#and it's not me throwing a tantrum over the decision either it's me throwing a tantrum because i can't have my own body and i'm stuck

[fizzfags]

the world if i could have my own body and do whatever i want forever

#ignore this post i just need to complain about a very minor inconvenience and i don't have anyone to complain to. anyways. #the request that lukas gave me is EXTREMELY reasonable. it's basically one thing i'm not allowed to do. #and i understand why he (and others) don't want me to do that and i am going to respect that decision. #there is also the feeling of 'i am stuck in this body and it's not fair that he gets to make all the rules just because he's host' #which could change at any time mind you. i was briefly host that one time. #and i'm going to be stuck in this body until i die. Cool #local man asked to follow a very simple rule; has an identity crisis and makes it everyone else's problem. #this isn't BECAUSE of the request. i promise i'm not throwing a tantrum just because i can't do stupid shit. #and it's not me throwing a tantrum over the decision either it's me throwing a tantrum because i can't have my own body and i'm stuck #it's more that it's made me more aware of certain limitations and that i'm never really going to be considered my own person. #but lukas gets to be his own person for some fucking reason i guess. #but i'm not going to be an asshole and intrude on other people's boundaries by trying to explain that to them. i can deal.

[darkmuffinstudios]

Was bored and decided to create a silly little one-shot of Errormare for @inkywellcrow 🤭

Who knows, I might get more motivation to make more parts, I might not haha

Baking One-Shot (Errormare) (1.7k words)

Darkxsoulzyxcaliberx

Dream’s birthday (and by extension, Nightmare’s) was only a few days away, and the two most dastardly villains of the multiverse were in the middle of making something for it.

You see, after many decades of struggle, the two guardians grew weary of the constant back-and-forth and had since settled on a truce; No more bloodshed and no more overbearing war meetings. After so long, however, the two had long since forgotten times of peace. It was nothing more than echoes of what could have been, as well as what once was… So, as always in their relationship, Nightmare decided to be the first to extend one of many olive branches that will occur down the line.

To show a sign of good faith and to celebrate the occasion, Nightmare had his boys come up with gift ideas that they would give to his brother. The dark king had hoped that, whatever the gifts may be, that the action alone would show that he intended to support this truce and to keep friendly relations with his other half.

But asking a band of miscreants and murderers was a bad decision in hindsight, and so after many, MANY days of brainstorming, he eventually caved to Horror’s insistence on a birthday cake.

Which brings us to the present…

“Error, you’re whisking batter, not pummeling it into submission.” Nightmare scolded lightly. He wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, trying not to get too irritated at how sloppy of a job his partner was doing.

“This is stupid.” Error grumbled.

“Error— slower, slower.”

“Don’t— !” His body locked up at Nightmare’s complaining, and he drastically slowed down his pace to a glaringly slow tempo. He gave Nightmare a frustrated look, to which the king easily brushed off. “Don’t tell me what to do. I read the recipe too.”

“Uh huh.” Nightmare deadpanned, setting a metal tray on the counter. “You're also as blind as a bat without your glasses, my dear.”

“They would have just got in the way.” Error huffed. After a few more mixes, he decided that surely was enough of that, and he dropped the bowl into the counter with a loud CLANK. “There. Done mixing.”

Nightmare rubbed his temples. What was that method of reducing stress? Counting back from five? Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. “Please don’t slam the bowl down.”

“Mmhm.” Error leaned against the counter, dismissive.

For his own mental (and Error’s physical) wellbeing, Nightmare opted to ignore him for a little while. Once he sprayed down the baking pan, he glanced over Error’s work. There was still some dry clumps of the batter mix floating around, but he wasn’t going to correct any of it since he knows how much his partner loves to throw his tantrums. Besides, Dream has been a pain in his ass for decades— the least he can do is crunch on some raw flour to save him from future headaches.

Carefully, he lifted the bowl and poured the mixture into the baking tin. Using a tentacle, he grabbed a spatula he set out beforehand to scrape any excess, and quietly put the bowl down. He gave Error a mild look.

Error met his gaze and paused, looking to either side of himself. “… What?”

“That’s how you put a bowl down. Silently.” Nightmare said, his voice dripping honey and tar.

“Oh, fuck you.” Error griped, rolling his eyes so over dramatically that his head went with it. Nightmare couldn’t help but smile at how stupid he could be.

After making his point, he walked over to the oven with the pan. After opening it with a tentacle (fashioned with a cute little baking mitten), he placed the pan inside and shut it with his hip. Making note of the time, he finally allowed himself to slump against the counter.

Nightmare looked up at the ceiling. How the hell does Horror do this every single day? Willingly?? He couldn’t even imagine how difficult it would be to order his men around such a small space, never mind how destructive all of them already are. Just the thought started to give him a headache…

“So,” Error started. “Why didn’t you ask your uh…” He thought for a moment, his body glitching a little from the effort.

“Horror?” Nightmare offered.

“Yeah— the big, freaky guy— to do this for you? Doesn’t he do this stuff already?”

Nightmare sighed. “… Well… Monster food is magic—”

“Uh. Yeah— I know.”

“I know that you know—“

“Then why say it—?”

Nightmare turned and glared at him. “Just let me talk!” Error held up his hands defensively, glaring right back at him for a moment, before Nightmare eventually continued.

“Well, because monster food is made of magic, then cooking monster food involves magic too. It incorporates the chef’s intent, and can communicate unspoken feelings through each bite.” Nightmare idly messed with one of the spoons on the counter, staring at the oven glass as he spoke. “To put it simply, it has to be made by me. I may not be the best at baking, but he will understand and appreciate the gesture anyways. He is that kind of guy, unfortunately.” He scoffed.

“So why drag me into this?” Error groused. “I couldn’t care less about making ‘Mr.Sunshine’ feel any better than he already feels.”

“Oh.” Nightmare turned to flash a smug look at Error. “Because I didn’t want to suffer alone.”

Error stared at Nightmare. For a long, long moment. A quiet, high-pitched sound began to come from Error’s body— the telltale sign that he was starting to crash. “You’re joking.”

Nightmare shrugged. “Am I?”

Error grabbed the whisk from the counter, chucking it with all his strength at Nightmare. “YOU ASS!! I COULD HAVE LEFT AT ANY TIME?!?”

The king chuckled, letting the whisk hit his shoulder. “Of course you could have. You weren’t obligated to do any of this.”

Error threw his arms around, already hellbent on destroying the kitchen. He ripped the toaster from its electrical socket, threatening to throw it on the ground when Nightmare continued. “But you stayed because you love me.”

That got Error to freeze in place. He stared at Nightmare, bewildered for a few seconds, before slowly lowering the toaster onto the counter. “… Whatever.” He mumbled, stewing.

Nightmare smiled at Error’s obvious admission of defeat, finding himself slowly walking over to him. He stopped a good few feet away, settling on leaning against the counter once more. “You love me, and wanted to help me because you loved me.” He teased lightly.

Error bristled. “I will leave!”

“But then I’d be so sad if you did.” Nightmare touched his own chest, right over where his apple soul would be. “All alone… abandoned…”

Error huffed, crossing his arms. “Good! Feel bad!! Feel bad for tormenting me for HOURS while I slaved away in this kitchen for you!!”

“It was only an hour, dear.” Nightmare chuckled.

“NUH UH!! You’re wrong!!” Error scowled, swinging an arm out to the side and ripping a portal open to a random, unsuspecting world. He gestured wildly to the setting sun. “See!! HOURS!! It’s already growing dark!!”

Nightmare rolled his eye. “Mmhm.” He knew he wasn’t winning this fight.

Error smiled triumphantly, leaning a little closer to Nightmare. The portal fizzled next to them, disappearing soon after. “Apologize.”

Nightmare raised a metaphorical eyebrow at Error. “For what?”

“For being mean and awful and terrible!” Error demanded, counting on his fingers as he went.

Nightmare rolled his eye for the second time. “Mmmmmmno. I don’t think I will.”

Error leaned back, pouting now. “Asshole.”

Nightmare sighed. A brief moment of silence grew between them as they waited for the cake to bake before Nightmare sighed again, shoulder sagging. He looked at the clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen, then back at the oven glass. The cake wasn’t rising at all.

“… Do you think he will like it?”

Error didn’t look at Nightmare, arms still crossed. After another beat of silence, Error’s shoulders sagged a little and he quietly responded. “What do you mean.”

Another beat of silence. Error didn’t like it. He turned back to glance at Nightmare, only to see the other have his hands folded against his chest in a sort-of self hug. His tentacles were curled inward on themselves, and Nightmare hadn’t looked up once from the oven glass.

It bugged Error. He tried again, softer. “What... do you mean by that?” Nightmare sighed again, a third time, and it was starting to get to Error. He shook his head. “No one hates chocolate cake. If I find out he does, I’m throwing him.”

“Not the cake.” Nightmare answered quietly, though he did smile a little at Error’s threat. The spectacle of the destroyer of worlds tossing his brother like a football was amusing, to say the least. He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “My… message.”

“Message?” Error echoed, clearly confused.

“My intent.” Nightmare tried instead. “It’s… I want this to go well. I want this to be our first steps in making up with one another, and I tried to put as much as I could into this cake… I tried to not fill it with…” he sighed, the fourth time. “… with my lingering feelings of the past.”

Nightmare raised a hand. “I’m certain I didn’t, and I know this won’t make up for everything that has happened between us… but…” He slowly brought his hand back towards himself, back to where it was wrapped around his chest. “I don’t know… I lack the proper words at the moment.”

Not that Error needed all of the words to understand. He thought a little bit before he spoke. “That’s why you asked me to help you with this.” The dots started connecting more in his head as he turned to Nightmare. “You didn’t want to do this alone.”

Nightmare considered Error’s words. “… I suppose I didn’t.”

Error stared at Nightmare, trying to get maybe just a little bit more out of him, before turning to look back at the oven. “… I think he’ll like it.”

“You think so?” Nightmare’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Yeah.” Error shrugged. “He is that kind of guy, like you said.”

Nightmare smiled a little. “I guess you’re right.”

#darkzyx #undertale au #undertale fandom #utmv #undertale multiverse #Undertale multiverse oneshot #utmv Drabble #sanscest #errormare #utmv nightmare #nightmare sans #error sans #utmv error #nighterror #they are so gay your honor #it’s been forever since I’ve last wrote stuff #I’m super rusty #not much beta reading #we die like men #I wrote this on my ipad so I’m hoping there aren’t too many mistakes

[disneyprincemuke]

my reputation's never been worse * fem!driver

her boyfriend's not made for her anger

pairings: matt x rocky (hehe)

notes: let rocky be happy challenge (impossible) LOL

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

she whines tiredly, throwing her head back. “draw of the luck.”

matt smiles slightly and drops himself into the vacant seat next to her, popping her pepsi can open. “you probably don’t wanna be sitting next to me right now.”

“what?” the girl snorts, snapping her head to him with furrowed eyebrows. “bub, why would you even say that?”

“because you’re sitting here instead of being on the track racing with everyone else, duh,” matt chuckles, offering her the soda can. he sits back in the chair and rests his arm on the back of hers. “i’d totally understand if you’re upset about being here.”

she sighs shakily, craning her neck to look at the small tv hanging in the garage. liam’s car is on the screen, just making the sinking feeling in her chest worse.

truthfully, what a shit start to the year.

the churning in her stomach makes her want to tear the walls of her garage down, but it’s simply too early to say. at least that’s what she’s been telling herself all day since sebastian had broken the news to her.

it’s just one race.

though, the devil on her shoulder is insisting that it’s not as simple as that.

she shakes her head, lips pressed into a thin line. “it was shocking,” she whispers with a firm nod. “but i’ll be back next week.” she leans against his arm, cheek resting on his shoulder and reaches over to take his hand into hers. “i’ll be okay.”

“i know you will be,” matt mutters, putting a hand on her knee. he glances at her. “but you don’t have to keep saying that to me — i’ll be here for you.”

“you’re really okay?” matt asks softly, bending to his side to try and get a look at the girl’s face.

the girl hums with a small grin, darting all over the room to shove everything into her backpack. “why do you keep asking that?”

he sighs, sinking further into his beanbag. “because you finished outside of the points today and you didn’t race last weekend. you haven’t lashed out yet, you haven’t cried… you haven’t even said anything about it yet.”

“it’s only been 2 races,” she shrugs with a small grin, standing up straight to look over at him. “bub, i’m okay.”

“i don’t wanna go there,” he frowns, “please don’t make me go there.”

she tilts her head, “what do you mean?”

“your only crash of last year, you got into a fight severe enough that it almost shattered your entire world,” matt points out softly, truly unsure if it’s even a wise decision to bring up one of her lowest points of the previous season. “you have to at least be feeling some type of way about this all.”

she sucks in a deep breath, tearing her eyes off of him. and he has a point.

right now, it seems like throwing a tantrum over mishaps from 2 races into the season just sounds like behaviour that she could easily get lost in. that’s not how she was raised, after all.

she just takes what she can get and she’ll remain grateful even though these past 2 weeks have arguably been getting harder to cope with. not starting the race felt like the end of the world a week ago — she’s just glad she got to race this weekend.

though she swore, stepping into the paddocks with her chest feeling tighter, that she wanted to cry into matt’s shirt. but when she opened the door to her room and saw him looking at her with sorry eyes and open arms, the anger and frustration seemed to be pushed away.

she shrugs again. “it’s just simply too early to tell.”

she can’t seem to say anything else that’s not an utter lie.

it’s unusual to be woken up by the heaviest sleeper he knows. matt had been woken by snuffling and he initially assumed it to be kidnapper sniffing either of them, waiting to wake them up for some snacks in the middle of the night.

until it hits him that they’re not even in her apartment in london right now — they’re in a hotel for the race weekend. his eyes fly open as he scrambles to sit up. he finds her sitting in a chair, face illuminated by her phone screen as she bites down on her nails.

“bub, what are you doing up so late?” he whispers so as not to startle the girl. “you have a race tomorrow.”

the room goes dark when she immediately shuts her phone. “nothing, i,” her voice quivers, “it’s nothing. i just woke up to use the toilet 10 minutes ago.”

he can’t help but notice the way her voice shakes. “is everything okay? what’s wrong? feeling sick?”

she sighs and shakes her head before she realises that matt can’t see her. “it’s really nothing,” she whispers, starting to climb into bed again. she sniffles and rubs her nose on the sleeve of her pyjamas. “i’m fine. let’s just go back to bed.”

matt scrambles to sit up, swiftly reaching over to turn the lamp on before he turns back to her before she can drop herself on the bed again.

“what are you doing?” he mutters, grabbing her arm and yanking her into his body. she doesn’t do much to fight it; just softens herself up as she lands in his lap, head buried in his chest. “why do you keep saying it’s nothing? i know something’s bothering you.”

“i just–” she grabs at the material of his shirt and bunches it up in her hand. she squeezes her eyes closed as another lump in her throat forms. “i hate feeling this way. you should see the things people are saying about me right now. it’s not fair; they don’t say any of that about liam.”

“rocky.” truthfully, he doesn’t really know what to say. how would he? he rests his cheeks on the top of her head as her soft cries fill the silence of the hotel room. “you really shouldn’t be reading that. didn’t seb tell you off on that?”

“he did,” she choked, shaking her head, “but after my performance in qualifying today… i had to see what everyone’s saying about me.”

he tightens his arms around her, hoping slightly that this would help her feel better. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault my life’s like this.”

so it seems that matt’s unlocked a part of her that she hasn’t shown anybody else. there’s a certain level of vulnerability now that not a lot of people have had the pleasure, or unluckiness, of experiencing firsthand in recent years.

once upon a time, she had people to turn to when her racing had gone to shit. but realistically, she hasn’t experienced many mishaps with machinery as a driver, which is probably what’s making it so difficult to cope with her current situation.

nonetheless, her only support system seems to have taken a life of their own that can no longer accommodate her. that’s what she tells herself: oscar and logan have lives and are building relationships and there’s no more space for her in their immediate lives.

she dreaded the media pen after another finish, barely making points out of the race in p9.

to her dismay, her predictions were absolutely right. her first question after stepping up to the mic and camera was something about her ending up behind logan in the placings after spending her entire racing career typically ahead of him.

she wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t pointed it out and now the resentment grows as the clock ticks.

matt sighs, “you don’t really mean that; they’re your friends.”

“but i do!” the young girl shrieks, throwing her arms in the air. she paces around the room as she heaves, hands tangled in her hair as she finally sighs about her frustrations. “it’s not fair! nobody cared that logan wasn’t producing results when oscar and i were! suddenly, they’re comparing me to him? i have every right to feel like this, matthew!”

“i know.” he grabs her shoulders to stop her in place then cups her cheeks to force her to look him in the eye. “and you do. i’m not saying you don’t have the right to feel this way, but–”

“you are, though!” she shrieks, stepping back and removing his hands from her. “you don’t get it. i spent my whole life better than logan and suddenly now i’m incompetent just because he’s scoring points? give me his teammate’s car — i’ll still beat him in a race by a margin.”

“i never said that,” he argues, throwing his arms in the air. “you grew up with these guys and i understand that you’re frustrated… it’s okay, but take it easy.”

“i can’t believe you’re taking their side right now, matt,” she sighs heavily, rolling her eyes. she throws her arms in the air. “everyone’s already on their side! i need you to be on mine!”

“and i am!” matt huffs. ��i am on your side — i just don’t want you to burn bridges like this! it’s okay to be angry, it’s just me here anyway. but these are your best friends!”

“you’re the only one i can be this open to! i need you to be with me!” she stomps her foot on the ground with her hands balled into fists by her side. “i can’t run to my friends and say that that should’ve been me. do you realise how fucked up that sounds?”

“i do!”

“then let me have this one! let me hate them for a couple of minutes before i have to swallow it down and pretend like i’m not fucking jealous of the success they’re all finding this year!” she opens her mouth again to say something, choking up as she tries to speak again.

she pinches the bridge of her nose as a lump forms in her throat. “i can’t say that to them, they’ve worked so hard to be there. and it’s not their fault that i’m not up there with them.”

“you’re right,” matt whispers, taking a step forward and enveloping her in his arms. “you’re right — i’m sorry. it’s just all pent up right now, isn’t it?”

“they’ve been supportive when i’m doing well. i feel like shit feeling like this towards them,” she whispers. “it’s not fair to them, you know? i have to show up for them like they did for me.”

matt calls out her name and the girl simply holds a hand out to him and walks past him in the garage. she pulls the balaclava off her head and shoves the door towards the paddocks to leave him behind.

“hey, talk to me!”

she snatches her arm back just as he grabs it, a bewildered stare on her face. her eyes are teary as she scowls at him. “just leave me alone. not now, matt, god!”

he sucks in a deep breath watching the girl storm further from him. he clenches his jaw and turns on his heel to make his way back to her garage, only to be met by a familiar face.

oscar looks over matt’s shoulder where the girl had strayed off to. “is she okay?”

“she’ll be okay,” matt grins, trying to ignore the pang of pain growing in his chest. “just needs a while to recuperate by herself.”

“are you okay?” oscar asks slowly, flashing him a knowing stare with a comforting smile. “she can get a little angry sometimes, but i promise she’s not always like this.”

“i know.” he forces a chuckle out. “she’s great. but she’ll be okay — just wants to have time to herself right now.”

every week brought around a certain form of unknowing. it’s hard to keep sane when you keep having to adapt to survive.

perhaps that’s the problem: she’s finding it too difficult to adapt.

when she gets out of the car, there’s only ever one consistent thing. it’s always meeting the same pair of warm green eyes in the garage and his arms wide open waiting to receive her.

she crashes into his body, stumbling back a couple of steps from the impact. “i can always expect one thing out of a race,” she sighs, eyes fluttering closed when she feels his hands wrap around her. “and it’s the fact your face will always be here in my garage.”

she feels a hand resting on her back. “well, i want to be here for my girlfriend, you know? she deserves that much.”

“haha, very sweet,” she giggles, pulling away with a small grin. “let’s head out to dinner tonight?” he nods excitedly. “it’s a date.”

perhaps she’s pulled the gun a little too early on that one. the evening had seemed like it was off to a great start with her feeling uplifted from the way she made it to the third round of qualifiers. the interviews and her team meeting hadn’t gone as well as she initially expected.

she leans forward on the table, cheek resting in her palms as she pushes the sole piece of carrot left on her plate. sat across her is matt, talking about something from his audition a couple of days ago.

he stops himself, tilting his head at his seemingly unresponsive girlfriend. “is everything okay?”

she lifts her eyes, lips parted with an empty stare. “yes. sorry, you were saying about your audition?”

“right,” he smiles, “i was saying that i think my audition went great. it’s a good show so if i get the part, it’s going to be–” but the lack of reaction and enthusiasm from the girl makes him stop midsentence again. he lets out a shaky breath, “nevermind. maybe another time.”

“no, matt,” she sighs looking up slightly more aware and attentive than before. “i’m sorry. i just have so much on my mind right now. please keep telling me how the audition.”

he shakes his head and drops his head to continue his meal. he would have asked what’s bothering her, but he’s since learned that she would tell him if he really wanted to, especially after he’d already asked her seconds ago. “it’s alright, bub. when you’re feeling better. what’s on your mind?”

“okay, wait up.”

matt struggles to catch up to the girl after having stormed out of the garage after briefly stepping into it for a mere second. he’d barely gotten a glimpse of her before she started stomping towards the small exit door in the back of her garage.

the girl had stormed through the semi busy paddocks with tunnel vision to the racing home, ignoring anyone and anything that tried to get between that. he had even followed up with soft apologies as she blatantly continued to ignore bigger names.

realistically, they should have taken the look of fury on her face as a clear sign. with her race, she didn’t have the energy to stop and feign a smile to make small talk.

no, because she genuinely feels the world spinning underneath her feet.

the door to her driver’s room flies open with a loud thud as it comes into contact with the wall.

and at the comfort of her floral-scented room, she stands in the middle of it, hands fisted by her side. she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she does so.

surely the 30 second pit stop that caused her a points finish warrants this, right?

to some degree perhaps, she tries to reason with herself.

she opens her eyes and starts to look around her room for something **— anything — to keep her from tearing the walls down of the building of the team that keeps screwing her over. she keeps her eyes on the picture frame on the wall of her and sebastian from the year before in miami, champagne drenched with her trophy in hand.

at the call of her name, she feels something snap inside her.

her scream pierces through the silence of her driver’s room, followed by the loud thud of her helmet clashing against the wall decorated with a singular picture frame. the helmet falls to the ground followed by the framed picture on her wall.

she drops to her knees with another scream, quickly transitioning into a sob as her fisted hand comes into contact with the carpeted ground of her room with every word she screams. “that’s not fucking fair!”

“rocky–”

“don’t!” she pushes away the hand that hovers over her shoulder, desperate to console her. “don’t touch me!”

she’s been holding it in since the race had started — something felt wrong. every weekend she walks into the paddocks feels like a chore; the only thing constantly in her head is the question of how another race could possibly go wrong for her.

every single passing weekend seems to outdo the previous and there is only so much she can do as a driver with a car that’s uncooperative.

the man behind her can only watch, in agony, as the girl kneels on the ground. she slowly hunches forward, elbows on the ground with her sobs echoing in the empty room. her fisted hands hit the ground with a soft thud as she cries. “i’m not any better than i was every moment before this. maybe i’m not even as good of a driver as i’d thought.”

she throws her head back as she sucks in a deep breath. she breathes out, “i don’t wanna do this anymore.” she twists her body, eyes stinging from her tears and her cheeks stained. a soft sigh passes her lips as the initial bout of anger and frustration finally leaves her. “can we just go home?”

“you still have the debrief to attend,” he says softly and hesitantly. “that might really make you feel better, you know? maybe if you talked to your team about it, they could address what your concerns are and even come up with a solution?”

“please,” she whines with a heavy sigh. “i don’t want to stay here. fuck the team.”

and so he does what he can to help, against his better judgment and the image that he tries to keep around here for her. he helps her pack her bags, wraps his jacket around her and brings her back to the hotel. he’ll just call sebastian later and explain.

she lies on her side, kidnapper nuzzled into her chest as she taps away on her phone. on the other side of the bed is matt, on the phone with his agent, talking about something regarding the audition he had gone to a couple of weeks ago.

she shuts her eyes at the constant chatter filling the silence of her bedroom, irritability growing in her chest. the peace and quiet she’d been hoping for is now gone.

she scrambles up with a soft huff before quickly leaving the room, the door slamming behind her as she leaves. she grabs the throw on the couch and wrapping her body with it. she lies back down on the couch and closes her eyes, desperate to get a nap in before their flight later in the evening.

the door creaks open, matt’s head popping out with the phone against his chest. “is everything okay? you left without saying anything.”

“i’m fine,” she mutters, voice muffled by the pillow she’s pressed her face into. “i just need time to myself right now.”

she hears him sigh. “bub, i’m on the phone with my agent. i can’t do this right now.”

“we’re not doing anything,” she scoffs, lifting her head momentarily to glare at him before lowering her head again. “just leave me alone. i want to be by myself.”

“okay,” he answers, the door slamming closed.

she wasn’t going to cry, at least not until now. all day she’d been dreading leaving for the airport to fly off for another race weekend — there are only so many misfortune a person can take in an underperforming car before it takes a toll on their confidence.

but she does and wraps it up the minute she hears the bedroom door open again.

she urges matt towards the door. “please, please. you have to come up with some lie why i can’t make it out tonight,” she whines, squeezing matt’s arm.

“what?” matt shrieks, turning around to stop her from opening the door. “they’re your friends. you should be the one to tell them why we’re cancelling on them tonight.”

“i can’t face them right now, bub,” she sighs, shaking her head. “i miss them, but i also kinda hate them right now. please?”

she’d agreed to head out to grab a couple of drinks with oscar and logan tonight, especially since it’s one of the rare times that they’re all in london together. but as the clocked would down to the time that they’re supposed to pick her up from her apartment, she abruptly changed her mind.

she just didn’t have the energy to go.

“tell them i’m sick or something or that i fell, i don’t know,” she whispers. “please, do me this favour.”

“i’m back from the store!”

matt furrows his eyebrows at the empty living room. he’s only greeted by kidnapper sitting in front of her bedroom door, mewing softly. the cat turns its head to glance at him, meowing again before turning to the door.

“is rocky in there?” he asks softly, bending down to pet the cat on the head. “and you’re mad she’s not letting you in?”

as if the cat understood what he said, he meows back again with a slow blink. he hums and puts the paper bag down next to the door.

he pushes it open, greeted by a dimly lit room. he flinches back at the figure sitting at the edge of the bed, hunched over with soft sobs filling the room.

“sorry,” she mutters, rubbing her nose on the sleeve of her sweater. “i fell down a rabbit hole. i know we said i shouldn’t but i couldn’t help it.”

“hey, what’s wrong?” he coos, walking around the black cat that’s pouring into the room with him. “what happened?”

she keeps her back facing him, yanking her phone towards the top of her bed. “i read the stupid articles again,” she cries, covering her face with her palms, “i had to know what they were saying about me.”

he sighs her name, a comforting hand on her shoulder. “why did you do that? you know that isn’t good for you.”

“because it’s not fair!” she shrieks, pushing herself off the bed to stand. “i worked so hard the past 2 years to prove that i belong in formula 1 — that i worked harder than anybody else to make it here and be the first woman in the grid in decades. but that doesn’t matter anymore, no, because i’m washed. i’m a fluke; sebastian took the chance on the wrong girl.”

“that’s why i’d said–”

“that kimi raikkonen and fucking jenson button are starting to eat their words about the girl that their friend had taken a gamble on to put in a race car alongside 21 other men on the grid,” she rambles on. she throws her arms into the air. “you don’t fucking get it, matt! and consider yourself lucky that you don’t have to because this shit is fucking exhausting!”

matt sighs, putting his hands on his knees as he takes her spot at the edge of the bed. he watches her intently as she continues her rampage.

“this shit sucks! do you have any idea how i feel? i’ve fallen so far from grace — there’s no saving my career!” she shrieks, turning her back on him to look out the window of her bedroom. “nobody’s ever going to take a chance on another woman if my results keep ending up like that.”

he closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, trying to ignore the way his patience was slowly escaping his grasp. while he likes letting her speak her mind, lately, it just seems like nothing is ever going through her head.

she listens, but nothing ever actually takes effect.

“let’s go get ice cream,” matt mutters, standing up from his spot on the bed. he only has so much self-control. “would make you feel better.”

she whirls around, eyebrows furrowed. “what?”

“come on,” matt beckons her towards her bedroom door. “let’s go. and then let’s pick stubby up from logan’s and go for a walk in the park. how’s that sound?”

“kinda nice actually,” she says softly. “okay, just let me get dressed.”

it’s happened again. she got mad at something minuscule again. if you asked matt, he wasn’t even sure what had happened. he simply asked her if she needed his help, cleaning off the contents of the vase that previously sat on the dining table as decoration.

then she just lashed out.

“yes, fuck’s sake,” she mutters after he’d asked. she lifts her head to look at the black cat sitting in the seat of the dining table, head hung low at her. “and god, kid! i told you to keep off the fucking table! that’s exactly why i keep telling you that!”

“hey! that’s a cat you’re screaming at!” matt stands up from his position on the ground, previously helping her collect the water beads that she’d thrown into the vase for the flowers. “it was a mistake — it’s a one-off thing! what’s your problem?”

“i’ve got bigger things to worry about, matt.”

“oh, my god, rocky!” he puts the vase down on the table and looks at her. “do you even hear yourself right? actually, have you taken a step back and listened to yourself lately? you’re screaming at a cat for doing cat things. your cat.”

she clenches her jaw, tilting her head. they’ve never really fought before. “there’s a reason he’s trained to not be on the table!”

“he’s a cat!” matt emphasises, pointing at the cat that’s now run off towards the balcony of the apartment. “listen, okay? there are two people in this relationship. you can’t always fucking expect me to baby you like this.”

she squints her eyes. “what are you talking about?”

“have you really even tried to look at the bigger picture lately? there’s more to life than your time and results in a race car,” he states. he hadn’t expected to break now. initially, he’d been planning to sit her down and have a serious chat about her mental state. but hearing her lash out again over something that typically wouldn’t be an issue broke him. “everyone’s telling you the same thing. it’s the car. it’s. not. you.”

“yeah, but–”

“and if you’re just going to nod your head and then drag your feet to lock yourself away from everyone else, it’s not going to make you feel any better! you actually have to believe the words that we’re saying to you. you know that, don't you?”

he takes a deep breath to collect himself. he doesn’t even really shout often. he’s more on the reserved side. “if you don’t want my help, fine. but if you need me… when you decide that you finally want my help — when you’re really ready to listen and willing to get some perspective — call me. please.”

matt finally gets a good look at her, hands clasped in front of her, now standing with her head hung low. if he’d taken a second longer to scan her, he’d have noticed the way her lips quivered and the tears that filled her eyes to the brim. “i don’t like seeing you like this,” he says softly, “but i also don’t like being treated like a fucking doormat. and i tried to be there for you, bub, but you’re unreceptive.

“i keep giving you my hand to hold and you just keep fucking ignoring it. when are you going to get in your head that shutting down and keeping to yourself isn’t going to be a viable way around this?”

“matt,” she says softly, her hand reaching out to grab his.

he takes a step back before she can touch him. “this always happens, rocky. you lash out, you hurt my feelings, you apologise then i forgive you. it’s good for a couple of days and then something happens and we’re just stuck in this loop — it’s exhausting. and i love you.

“god, i love you. and i want to keep liking you too, but love just won’t cut it,” he sighs, slouching his shoulders. “i don’t want to get tired of loving you, okay?” he sucks in a deep breath and he knows that he will probably regret uttering these words to her. “i’m sorry, rocky, but i can’t keep doing this cycle with you. i need a break.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

#fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #female driver #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #vettel reincarnate

[cloveroctobers]

FEBRUARY FLUFF — CARMY BERZATTO.

A/N: so carmy won this time around!!! Thanks to all those that voted and ultimately made this decision for me lol. Hope you guys enjoy this and have a safe, healthy, and happy love season 🩷 + yes this is a mixture of fluff and angst...i mean come on! I wouldn't be me if i didn't include that in here somewhere!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 1. “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.” “What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?”  + always giving the other the first bite of their food < or the last.

WARNINGS/SN: I wrote with a black or brown reader in mind although reader isn't physically described + they’re given a name only when mentioned, language is a thing here duh!, this is LENGTHY, lots of timelines: reader + nat became friendly before season 1 during the summer prior to 7 fishes which is estimated to be five years before season 2, reader knows of carmy due to past work, I feel like she can be just a few year(s) older than carmy but younger than nat—there’s a age gap for the Berzatto’s anyways, sexual relations are mentioned, this piece takes place months after the grand opening, & finally there’s a possible chance for a poly relationship or maybe just multiple crushes going on? Take that how you will.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

it was a Sunday.

The kind of Sunday you woke up embarrassed about but knew you had to swallow your pride and just send out that text. You knew you wouldn’t be judged regardless reaching out to Fak because he’s built to deal with things like this and never made you feel like shit about anything.

You usually had to squeeze it out of him to get him to lay out any cons about a situation but appreciated most times when he didn’t. Your minds been going haywire with a recent assignment as a food journalist and it really slipped your mind, although you were usually a quick thinker, you’ve been stressed over this recent restaurant. Thankfully it clicked for you after throwing a tantrum to simply reach out to Fak to come help you out.

The stupid lever in your bathroom decided to stop flushing on you and of course you panicked. Who wouldn’t panic in a situation like that? You no longer had a roommate and strongly debated if you even wanted to search for another; after the shady actions of the previous one, so you really didn’t have to worry about them giving you shit either. (Let’s see if your rent feels the same next month!)

It was just you in the end and perhaps you were learning to be okay with that.

Yet that didn’t stop you from FaceTiming Sydney about it. “Hey Siddy, how’s your day going?”

“Pretty good, yours?” She politely asked as she moved down the hallway of her shared apartment to prop her phone on the pedestal sink, moving around her functioning bathroom to grab some oil to grease her scalp.

Smacking your lips you glare, “it fucking sucks.”

“Oh?” Sydney questioned, appearing back in frame, “what happened? Did someone egg and scratch up your car again after a review you gave them? Noo wait, don’t tell me there’s a bullet hole?!”

That was light work compared to New York (it really wasn’t a competition of which state had its worst moments but your home state left you kinda triggered, not gonna lie!) where you were just starting off and those that were in tune with the culinary world didn’t take your words with a grain of salt. Most nights you still woke up gasping for air, reaching for your throat due to some trauma of a break in from a well-known nepo-baby chef. Don’t get that twisted, your mom didn’t raise no punk but that didn’t mean those events didn’t mess with your mental and you acknowledged that every time you had a nightmare. They only served three years and five months compared to the original five year sentence.

Ah the system…got to love how that works out for the privileged!

You shrugged, “no…the threats have been pretty tame lately so I can give myself a pat on the back for that. However! I still am in a crisis.”

Sydney begins to move her braids around to expose her scalp, “Elaborate for me.”

“My toilet won’t flush!” You whine, laying flat on your messy bed. You tended to not make your bed on Saturdays and didn’t get around to making it today—although it was after 3pm.

Sydney asks, “Like the waste won’t go down…?”

“Exactly!” You confirm throwing your arm over your eyes dramatically, “The lever thing is moving like my old dislocated shoulder.”

Sydney gags, “don’t fucking remind me of that day. That was spooky to witness but I am glad you healed from that.”

“Thanks girl, means a lot, truly.”

Sydney gives a small smile, “don’t mention it…have you considered YouTubing it? That’s what I do when I don’t want to ask anyone for help and figure it out by myself.”

You hummed knowing this was true. In a sense you could be like that too, especially when it came to the working field, since writers can tend to be some nasty bitches and always in rivalry with each other. You made a name for yourself in Chicago as well, coming from New York where you worked just as hard-maybe even harder than the rest to mean and write exactly how you felt about cuisine, regardless if anyone agreed or not. It wasn’t about if people liked you, the relationship with food would always be more significant and hold value in your life, just like the rest of these chef’s you encountered and you got that, people were allowed to be sensitive about their work. You’ve come toe to toe with many chef’s around the world who didn’t like your take on their craft but that didn’t mean you didn’t understand them. They hardly took the time to really dive into your ratings and automatically took it as you shit talking or not having any idea what you were saying since you “weren’t really a chef,” but you knew your worth most days.

Yes you could be straight forward but that didn’t mean you lacked compassion like some chef’s liked to think according to your reviews. You often wrote in a way that was puzzling to some, almost philosophical or riddle like with your own twist. Some just didn’t get it and that was okay but you wouldn’t back down from any confrontation. The second they didn’t want to really listen, that’s when you removed yourself from the escalating problem. It didn’t have to get violent like some wanted to inflict.

“Why didn’t I think of that?!” You exasperated, slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead.

Sydney snorted, “maybe because you’re under a lot of pressure lately and the most simplest of things don’t come as easily as they should.”

“You would think I have high blood pressure with the way these past two weeks have been.”

Sydney says, “give it time.”

“Gee, thanks! That’s exactly the kind of shit I want to hear from you.” You roll your eyes at the blurt of words that commonly escaped the braided girl’s mouth.

Sydney breathes out a laugh, “I’m just joking!”

“Yeah, yeah! Maybe I should text fak back and tell him not to come by!”

“You asked fak instead of the apartment manager?” Sydney is in amazement.

“Fuck that noise, he’s so full of shit that he should see a doctor about it. He’ll show up to analyze the problem, then acts like he’s going to fit you into the schedule and then when you catch him in the lobby he pretends that he has amnesia.” You commented with a scowl.

You get ready to minimize the call to text fak but some obnoxious knocks at the door made you pop up from your bed. “That was fast!”

Hopping up from the bed and padding out of the last bedroom in the apartment, you made the journey through the foyer to the awaiting black front door. Peeking through the peephole you spot Fak grinning widely up into it, almost making you jump back.

“He’s made it Siddy! I’ll call you back!”

“K. Good luck!” Sydney calls out before you end the call to pull the door wide open.

“Neil!” You scream, quickly latching onto his tatted wrist ready to yank him in until you notice someone else is with him, “…why is he here?” You point.

Fak quickly glances over at a brimmed Carmy who raised a brow at him in a silent told you so manner, “I mean we were having a boy’s day when you called and I didn’t want my buddy to be left out. Plus, it’s always great to have some assistance.”

“…i find it hard to believe that Carmen wants to fix my toilet.” You cross your arms, poking out your hip as you stare at him.

Carmen shrugs his shoulders, “I wanted to wait in the car if it makes you feel any better.”

“Hmm…it doesn’t.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose briefly in agitation, “you know what, fak you’ve got this right? I know you do so—

“Nope!” Fak quickly interrupts, “this maybe a two person job so aspie if you just let us do what we came to do—

Shooting an arm out to block the doorway you peer into Fak’s dark teal eyes to show you mean business, “didn’t I say I dislike that nickname, Neil?”

He nods.

“Also i find it offensive that you brought an uninvited guest to my place.”

“Just be glad it wasn’t Richie because that was also a possibility before he ran off to pick up the kid.” Carmy snaps making you roll your eyes.

If Richie was here you been would have slammed the door in both Fak and his face. Sure you had some sort of tension with Carmy and beef with .......his cousin but at least Carmy only gave it back to you when he had the energy to—meaning if he was already on one. The issue was simple, you wrote a not so nice review once before when the eldest berzatto, Michael was alive and running the joint. Richie couldn’t forget that and actually kept the clipping, yes the clipping of the review way back when. He had the receipts to show Carmy and Carmy actually brushed it off then, not seeming to really care or doubt some of the words that were said.

He came to revamp the place because Mikey left it for him, to fix the mess his big brother left behind, to create what they’ve always dreamed of. Sure he got shit for it in the beginning and part of him felt like maybe that was your case too? He could relate to you on that, yet the weight was slightly different on his part and he even spoke with you not long after he found those tomato cans.

That gave him a certain push he couldn’t really explain. He may have done a brief dive on you, wondering why you felt acquainted to him—completely forgetting about seeing you once around Noma—choosing to start with reading previous reviews by you on other restaurants here in Chicago and a few interviews you’ve done over the world. You weren’t just some nobody, you held your titles well and it reflected in your work.

You weren’t clueless.

He just didn’t really know what he was dealing with until a short time ago.

What he didn’t expect was for you to show up again on opening night with a certain head chef, also from New York. That made carmy more anxious than anything, seeing you sitting beside that four eyed fuck ready to set off a tornado in the heart of the bear. Was that your motive all along? With carmy attempting to build a bridge, not for you to kiss his ass with praise but there was a odd need to have a simple conversation with you. It was weird but it seemed like Sydney, Fak, and Nat liked you?

The jury was still out with the rest—except Richie but you were a mystery to Carmy. However carmy wasn’t the best at putting a read on people or their emotions in the first place, he was good at fucking that up unless you’re screaming it into his face. That’s just how he operated.

“You two can come in—only because I don’t have the patience with the manager here and Neil’s the best I’m gonna get.” You state while fak slaps a hand on his chest.

“That was really sweet, Aspen.” Fak cooed ready to pull you into a bone crushing hug but you hold up a finger.

“Save the hugs until after you fix my problem.”

��You got it boss,” Fak salutes before diving under your arm to travel through your apartment, ooo-ing and ah-ing before finding the bathroom around the corner from the living room.

Sighing you drop your arm and wave carmy through, who keeps his view straight while traveling through the hallway. You call out to him, “you can have a seat on the couch.”

“What? Did you drop a load or something and is that the real reason why you don’t want me to help Fak?” Carmy comes right out with it, nose twitching in amusement after whipping around to face you in the center of the living room.

See…only when he’s frustrated or overly focused will he just let it out. Some may look at this as Carmy attempting to make a joke but you took that somewhat personally. The only thing you were thinking after he said this was: What an ego on this one huh?

You stop on your heels and tilt your head to the side, “are you telling me that you think women or fem pronoun users don’t take shits? Do you know what it feels like to have period shits?”

Carmy blinks at you and shouts with his hands out, “I...don't even know what the fuck you're getting at? I wasn't even trying to be sexist to you just then! I asked you a honest question—

“About you being in my business,” you pointed out, “contrary to your beliefs I have a heart and decided to be nice to you and let you stay in my place to keep warm. You’re welcome!”

“Oh bullshit, don’t act like you’re doin’ me any favors.” Carmy scowls, “you don’t even want me here.”

You shrug, “yet you’re here in my apartment, yelling.”

Carmy exhaled while you smirked at him sweetly before turning to lean against the wall that leads to the bathroom.

“Everything okay in there, Neil?”

“Oh yeah!” He says, “I think I figured out the problem. Easy peasy!”

“Great!” You exclaim, pulling your phone out from your sweats to read a very important email.

The weight of stress seemed to lift a good chunk as you quickly responded to a email that you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been invited out (squeezed in) to a taste test at this restaurant for this evening that you’ve been trying to get into for a month before you brought it up to your employer. The deadline was approaching for the end of this week to have a review ready and they just responded to you five days before that deadline! Reading over it twice, the squeal in you slipped through your smile until you read the exceptions.

If you were to go over the amount of food purchased, which you would put on the company card anyways, you can get a discount if you brought a plus one and some reimbursement if the review was satisfactory to the owners—which the last part wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

You usually didn’t bring a plus one to any of the places you did reviews for, you got comfortable doing outings all on your own but this was different. Sure you were somewhat known in the culinary world but that didn’t mean you were a millionaire and this restaurant was apparently upscale. There was a waiting list regardless of your status—even for the celebrities that went there so this was a big deal and they gave you a short notice. Usually Sundays were known for a reset for the week but what better way to start it?

You don’t go forward with reaching out to anybody else that you work with. This was your battle and you were aware that two of your other co-workers also reached out to this restaurant. You just hoped you were the only one they picked and wouldn’t miss out on the great opportunity just because you weren’t sure about your guest.

A few hours before show time and you had to find somebody to attend with you. Your best friend was away in Cabo for a honeymoon, the other (who recently planned on moving to ATL) was dealing with the flu and had their no good ex boyfriend taking care of them, Sydney was suddenly MIA, and you even considered inviting Natalie Berzatto to piss carmy off just a bit.

“Hey, Nat!” You greet into the phone as you walk into the kitchen, witnessing Carmy perk up from the couch.

It’s small talk at first: you asking about how her day is going as a mom to be, if she’s going to be at the bear tomorrow, did she watch the Emmy’s the other night, tell her husband you said hello, and then finally if she had plans for tonight.

“…are you asking me to hang out?”

“We had fun at that club way back when no?”

“Yeah! But that was how long ago?”

You knew it’s been awhile. You were always friendly with Natalie, meeting her first—well second out of the siblings down at the small mart one summer you helped out at that your great-uncle owned. She was huffing about something her boyfriend at the time, Pete forgot to bring her and some groceries she was picking up for her mom. You were cool enough to become Facebook friends, exchange numbers, go out for coffee and go to the club together. This wasn’t unusual to call each other randomly but you knew she commonly got shit from Michael and Richard about her talking and hanging out with you.

The thing about Natalie Berzatto is that she always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yes she saw your review yet she kinda laughed about it initially but it was all fuck you’s from the other two loud mouth’s. Of course she was going to listen to her brother but she still had a mind of her own. she didn’t care to listen to Richie go off but she understood how Michael felt, although she was the only other Berzatto that heard you out.

Except you didn’t owe anybody an explanation even if some felt you were more cutthroat in your younger years.

“...Before you and Pete even thought about marriage?”

You were younger than them but you imagined how it would always work out for Nat and Pete, which included growing old together.

“Wow! Yeah that sounds right.”

“So…?”

“Can’t do it.”

“You didn’t even hear all the details!”

“I know, I know and it sounds like it’ll be a real fucking blast but if this kid wasn’t sitting on my sciatic nerve constantly and if my feet weren’t the size of two honeydews…I totally would! But I’ll have to decline this time around—so please don’t hate me!”

“I could never!”

“You know you could always ask carmy-

“Why on earth would I do that?” Your reply was instant.

Natalie sighed over the phone, “aspen…the potential of friendship and love is a beautiful thing.”

You scrunched up your face at the phone before placing it back to your ear.

“Do you want me to hang up on you?”

“I’d call you a rude bitch if you did but then get over it.”

“I can live with that because I know it’s real love between you and I.”

“…whatever that means.”

“Right.”

You both laugh, knowing just how weird the subject of love can be. Although you didn’t talk all the time it was always okay for one of the other to drop a venting text or call each other’s way and know the other would get around to responding. The both of you may not be the best of friends but you did consider each other friends regardless. There were conversations between the both of you that no one knew about and would be a constant reminder of what kind of friends the both of you would remain.

Natalie wished things could have been resolved between you and Michael but she reassured that the dislike wasn’t as deep as it seemed. There was no secret that you felt awful about how his life ended and being there for nat during that time also meant a lot. She told you that one of the last conversations she had with Michael was about you and it felt as if he was learning to let go of your review, slowly taking in Nat’s words of you not having a cruel bone in your body especially with all that you’ve done for her.

Anybody that showed his sister true friendship couldn’t be complete garbage. As much as he tolerated Pete, Michael was always aware that he was good enough for his sister. They were all cut from different cloths and the Berzatto’s were just from the same but opposite corner’s.

Natalie telling you this was not to erase any worries you had since that is always brought to the surface when someone you’ve been face to face with before decides to end it all. It was to show you that nobody ever truly knows what anyone is thinking whether there is love there or not.

You can feel Natalie smiling through the phone, “Think about it…all that tension could be smoothed out if you extend the olive branch…now it’s your turn.”

“It’s not my fault he switched up on me after your opening night.” You didn’t lower your voice or make it louder but you were definitely staring at carmy now who was side eyeing you, looking like phineas from phineas and ferb.

“That’s something you need to talk to him about, don’t you think?” Her tone was always so gentle that it made you sick sometimes because she could be right.

“I’m not here to do think pieces.”

“…aren’t you a writer?”

“Have a good night, nat.”

“Ta-Ta!” Natalie sing-songs, “be sure to send me the deets later because carmy never tells me anything! Bye! Chat later!”

Hanging up the phone, you slide it onto the counter and tap your nails against the island. To the right of you, you pick up on some clinking in the bathroom—which sounds somewhat normal and zone in on carmy who’s also holding onto his phone but staring at the blank tv in thought.

“Hey, Carmen.” You call his name.

His bright blues turn to you as if he hasn’t been eavesdropping on your conversation here and there between his texts with Marcus.

“You. Me. The Saffron Simmer. 7pm.”

The air is frigid as the both of you hunch your shoulders shoving through Chicago’s winter. Shockingly the streets are filled with cars tonight so you had to park on the next street over before walking up and around to The Saffron Simmer. Carmy offered to drive, which was a debate—no shock there—since there was no way he was leaving the bear stock van behind for no license having fak to play around in.

Fak definitely found that offensive and said he didn’t mind hanging out at your place, being done with your toilet but with the look you sent him he said he’s find an Uber or fak2 can pick him up. It’s not like you didn’t trust fak in your place…it’s just that the possibilities of what he can get into are endless.

You also didn’t want to ride in the bear’s van not because of shallow reasons, you just wanted to annoy carmy just a bit more for fun. Walking mostly everywhere was the way to go growing up in New York and Carmy working there so doing so here in Chicago wasnt foreign either. However with the type of cold here in this city is enough to give the bravest of hearts hypothermia. So obviously driving was the best option, it’s just the petty back and forth between you two of who will drive had to be spewed.

Eventually you gave in and sat in the passenger side of the van, being on DJ duty for the twenty-five minute drive—something carmy didn’t care to argue over. The both of you made it on time, throwing the door back for carmy to catch then bouncing on your toes while he blew into his gloveless hands waiting on the greeter to find your reservation.

The pictures didn’t do The saffron simmer any justice. There was so much to look at with its modernized speakeasy décor and the high ceilings did a superb job of making the both of you feel small in the spacious space. Thankfully the dress code was business casual so you didn’t have to go all out but you still put in the effort of looking your best in simple attire. You’re shrugging out of your scarf, earmuffs, and puffer coat while Carmy is already seated; with only the removal of his cap across from you in a chair.

He’s watching you as you place everything neatly to the right of you before you're taking a seat in the leather oversized chair, then digging through your tote to pull out your notepad, Sony camera, phone, and bolt pen. You quickly scribble something on the first line and circle it before dropping your pen.

Rolling the sleeves of your long sleeves back underneath your blazer, you roll your shoulders with a close of your eyes before opening them with a look of determination.

“Wow, that was something.” Carmy tells you, making you set your eyes back on him, forgetting just that quick that he was your plus one.

Clasping your hands together you quirk up a brow, “What?”

“Watching you prep.”

You dip your head, “should have seen me before I got dressed…much worse.”

A smirk appears on the corner of Carmy’s lips, “oh yeah?”

“Well yes, I can contain myself in public, Carmen. Your home is supposed to be your safe space so that’s the best place to go a little crazy sometimes.” You inform, yet still not giving too much away.

“Why are you in your head about this place anyway?” Carmy peers around the slightly filled dining area before meeting your eyes once more.

You lift your shoulders, “have you seen the way they market this place? Giving not too much away although it’s top ten restaurants here and I can either contribute to its success or its downfall. They picked me for a reason so my review matters at the end of this year.”

“But you uh-get a thrill out of this shit don’t you? It’s what you signed up for, right?” Carmy is actually relaxed against the chair across from you.

Which is a sight to see.

You state, “it’s part of the job, if that’s what you mean.”

Carmy blinks and seems to get it, “and so you stay.”

“So I stay.” You echo while holding his stare, which is broken by a piece of the stone table lifting and showcasing the menu illuminated by sepia lighting in the dark of the restaurant.

Carmy’s bright eyes are wide as he stares at the menu that appears right in front of your faces. There’s a grin on your face as you rest your fingertips around its rough edges, almost as if you were expecting this while carmy blows out a breath.

“The hell is this place?”

You peek over at him, “some next level shit, berzatto.”

“Yeah…I think I’m starting to catch on.”

You turn your attention back to the menu, swiping your fingertips along the touch screen although you’ve heard things about the menu, which they kept offline since apparently it renews monthly.

“What looks good?”

“Uh…these pages aren’t even labeled." Carmy exhales through his nose, eyes searching all over the tablet, "I have no clue. You?”

The words come at ease for you, "One of almost everything maybe?”

“Sounds good...I guess?”

“On me by the way,” you state with a wink as you flash your company card.

“I’ll get the tip then.” Carmy pats his jeans, the left containing his carton of cigarettes, the right holding his keys, lifting his hips he checks for his wallet although he’s been sitting on his behind for about ten minutes now.

You don’t argue with that, eyes in awe at the selection of items as you start ordering, “don’t forget to order your drink.”

“Water should be fine,” Carmy mutters to himself, eyes scanning over the first strange title of water that is described as flower and ginger infused purified water and decides to go with that.

You finally express after rapidly letting your fingers go over the screen and taking a picture with your phone, “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.”

It sounded so easy to you as you quickly shifted to pick up your pen and start writing notes.

“What was that?” Carmy pressed his elbows into the edge of the table, making sure he heard you right since he’s not even sure if he can trust his inner thoughts lately.

You’re still scribbling but also turning your face towards the messy haired chef, “you heard me. We have to act like we’re in a relationship because I’ve definitely went over the budget on the card.”

“That’s not really my problem?”

“Yes it is,” you demand, “you agreed to be my plus one so that’s that. Plus this menu further confirmed my suspicions from the email.”

Carmy scratches at his brow confused, “what are you talking about, aspen?”

“Here,” you swipe across your screen towards Carmy’s device, which brings up another screen instantly to carmy who’s in awe but scans over the details.

You didn’t share the email with him but he’s heard about how high tech this restaurant is but didn’t have the time to do his own research.

*Significant others in attendance are subject to applicable discounts.*

Carmy feels his stomach cramp at the fine print and it so small that he was sure anyone could have missed that.

Not you.

“…how exactly are we supposed to prove that, hm?” He's gripping at his greasy hair now, feeling himself getting a bit worked up about this.

You fanned your hand along, “just do what couples do and follow my lead...Depending on our witnesses,” you whisper as you look around, “they could always assume that’s what we are anyways.”

Part of carmy didn’t like how that came off.

“What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” Flies out of Carmy’s mouth before he can even process what he’s saying.

That stoops you too, making you press your back against the chair in thought. That wouldn’t be going down in the notes, as you stare at the pen in between your fingers for a moment. Which brings you back to Carmy’s tatted fingers first that touched you in ways that romance novelist craved to write about.

So you may have left that out, how a shared conversation about the “heartless” review of then Chicagoland turned the bear melted into hot and heavy actions in the front seat of your Mazda. It hits you in those same flashes you take of dishes: the unsure sloppy kisses, you taking the lead to get Carmy to just touch you, shaky hands that trace the tattoo from your rib cage down to your hip before soon holding steady and angled just right beneath your red tapered trousers.

“Where did that come from?” You question just as a server greets you, delivering drinks and announcing the small plates should be out in the next five minutes with a timer appearing on both of the stone tablets.

Carmy says, “you—you didn’t just think I forget right?”

“Well I was hoping.” You were honest, “neither of us are ready for relationships—especially hearing about you and Claire.”

Carmy felt his eye twitch, “and how do you know about that?”

Sydney.

You wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that although you could tell carmy already knew.

“I have my resources but don’t think I’ve been asking around about you or anything like that.” You sipped at the raspberry mint cocktail, it could be stronger.

His thumbs are shaking first on the table top but his icy stare made your chest pulsate in a way you didn't particularly like, “…would that be so bad?”

You and carmy didn’t exactly know each other well enough besides a conversation once had and with his hand down your pants! and you trying to get him to crash, clothes still on right in the center of his lap—It was a spur of the moment hookup and you could tell it was not something that happened often for carmy. He never had time for it or bothered to get attached but there was something about you that had him thinking otherwise. What was supposed to be a one time thing that you swept to the back of your mind was being brought up again.

The annoyance overtook what that feeling brought in the front seat of your ride. You weren’t ignoring carmy after that but the both of you had a lot on your plate with him renovating a restaurant and you diving back into your own work. Both fields of work seemed to matter more and not once did you think he ever thought about you in that way.

Communication was important people!

And here you thought he wanted nothing to do with you, especially with you showing up to the grand opening of The Bear. Now here you were months later, basically at your benefit, face to face hearing only pieces of what Carmen Berzatto was thinking.

“Hey, guys!” A familiar voice gathers your attention and you both turn to see Sydney smiling at you two.

Carmy widens his eyes, “Syd, what’re you doing here?”

Sydney snorted, “doing the same thing you’re doing? Having dinner.”

“Right.” He lightly shakes his head.

“Oh my god…am I interrupting this um? Date?” Sydney quickly connected the dots eyeing the both of you back and forth while you’re choking on your drink, “you okay?”

She pats your back for you while you gasp and Carmy slides over his water your way although you have your own glass near by. Gaining some air, you swallow some water and breathe through your nose. Normally you would have a response for Sydney’s joke but given what carmy just said to you had your mind running along with some burning tears you wiped away.

“So this is where you’ve been instead of answering me back?” You decide to switch the subject-you were great at that-wheezing a bit while Carmy scoffs and looks away.

Sydney frowns, “huh? When did you call me besides the FaceTime call…” she starts and pulls out her phone, “oh shit sorry. I placed it on do not disturb like thirty minutes after you didn’t call me back. I got wrapped into some entail about the menu from one of the chef’s that works here and is also a friend.”

Carmy speaks, “Didn’t know you had a connect with anybody here, Syd.”

“Can’t reveal all my moves, Carm.” She winks and lightly elbows him while Carmy sends her a small smile and a shake of his head.

Carmy asks, “scooping out our competition?”

“Only a little," She pinches her fingers before continuing, "and my dad thought it would be a place I wanted to try.” Sydney admits, “and if you two weren’t on a date I’d say let’s make this a group thing! so I’ll be going! I see my dad coming back from the bathroom…he’s got like a bladder problem and I don’t know why I’m sharing that with you two. But bye! Enjoy and just know I’ll be keeping my eye on you two.”

“Fuck,” carmy exhaled feeling his nerves rising, “don’t do that.”

Sydney chuckles to herself and sends a wave to you two before walking back to her table by the window.

“Siddy kicked me to the curb for her dad,” you sigh resting your cheek into your knuckles for a moment, “can’t be mad at that.”

“But you can be mad at me for what exactly?”

“You wanna do this with me right now?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“I thought we could move past what happened—

“You can say it you know? Me with my fingers inside—

“Excuse me!” You hiss, “I don’t need you to repeat action by action thank you. I was there too. We both know what happened, we’d agreed we can coexist around this big ass city. I show up to support—

“Did you though?” Carmy pressed, “support me? Or am I waiting for something else to be thrown at me with your upcoming review?”

“What?!” You bite, “is that what your stank ass attitude is about?”

Carmy tightened his jaw just as the first serving was handed over. You let him sulk in that for some time as you study the plating of the four appetizers, making note of each before taking more pictures with your sony.

“I wasn’t there to write a review.” You reply.

“I saw you—

“Let me finish. I understand pressure so I get it but you have to learn to channel your anger and this grief, elsewhere and deal with it better without projecting it onto any and everybody. I’ll tell you that right now that won’t get you anywhere and especially with me, Carmen.” You affirm.

You’ve been in Carmy’s position before so you can speak with experience. He seemed to always be waiting for the worse to continue filling up his plate but it takes time to accept the good in life. He was giving you something but you weren’t sure it was the best option for the both of you and you weren’t afraid to say that.

“Alright…I didn’t come here to talk about feelings either you know? That’s what those meetings are for.” Carmy spills just a tad.

You stare at the vibrant but delicate plating but his tone and the soft upbeat tempo above your heads don’t go unnoticed. “What did you come here for then?”

Carmy blinks and snatches up a spoon, almost weighing it in his hands before he dives the utensil into the dish. He stares as the stretch of cheese, twisting the spoon to break it apart before holding the Macaroni and Brie with Crab out for you to take the first bite.

He doesn’t answer for awhile and so you do the honors of taking a bite and savoring it's texture and taste.

“…that’s not my favorite.” You announce and notice that Carmy waited for your view.

He raises his brows, “tell me about it?”

“They need different plating.” You deeply sigh, “I know that type of plating works best for a dessert and that’s not it. There’s more breadcrumbs than meat, which seems to not be fully removed from its shell so be careful with that. It’s also lacking flavor even with the brie, which is my least favorite kind of cheese in Mac, although many swear by it.”

Carmy flicks his attention to your disappointment to you scribbling into your notepad with a shake of your head. If he was making you a dish, he’d try his hardest to make sure it was everything you ever wanted.

He quickly has his share and thinks to himself.

Carmy can agree, this was lacking flavor and the breadcrumbs didn’t even have a crunch to them. You can’t just depend on the cheese to give you flavor in Mac and cheese.

“What’s your favorite dish? I—I don’t think I ever asked you that. We just went straight into talking about the beef.”

And doing dirty things in the front seat but who needs to relive that?!

You look up from your notes and lift your chin, “you’re looking at it. It’s childish I know...but that’s exactly what it reminds me of: my childhood. Mac and cheese! then as I got into my adulthood…crab kinda took over. Which is funny because I hated on it for so long growing up. My papa—my grandad, he helped my mom raise me, he's from Ocean City so you can only imagine the amount of seafood on our table.”

You’re smiling to yourself and Carmy can’t help but to feel his small laughter lines appear by his lips as you’re locked into some memory only you can remember vividly. This was the most Carmy was learning about you, sure it may not look like much but he didn’t feel the need to dissociate even if at times he really couldn’t help it.

You were the question mark that he wanted to figure out and get all the answers to. Maybe it was his gut and he shouldn’t have blabbed to sugar about you because now Carmy was thinking this was Michael’s doing.

If you believe in that shit.

So the both of you take your time trying the small dishes before getting the main courses. It seems the longer you sit across from each other—the tension was definitely still there especially with Sydney’s eyes burning into the two of you across the room and attempting to not get caught—although she had once or twice but gradually it lifted as you and carmy shared this time together.

He watched you work while you asked for his input before you told your own. He also provided a few things he would do to tweak it if he agreed with what you didn’t enjoy. Which was eye-opening for you, yes you went to school for journalism and sat in on some cooking classes once that also tied into your passion for learning. After completing your first degree you decided culinary may take you to different heights and enrolled into culinary school. You didn’t find the need to continue going through with being a chef after Copenhagen, finding writing to be your stronger suit but you still understood food and the relationship with it when it came to chef’s.

So you took carmy’s input into consideration.

With the last serving being a Asian dessert called, “Jjan Hae,” which consisted of: coconut rice pudding served with fresh citrus (orange, grapefruit, kumquat) and coffee ice cream, topped with crispy pop rice & a shot of Korean rice wine, it was a strange concept but the both of you came to terms with the dessert working well.

Carmy even took a video to show Marcus tomorrow at the bear and sent a photo to an old colleague, Luca, that you were also familiar with considering Noma was a thing that you didn’t bother speaking much on…but it was your turn to give carmy the last serving.

He hesitated since he had his own bowl, which he finished way before you did but it was clear you wanted him to have the last bite so he also took it while saying something with his eyes.

Breaking the stare, the both of you felt your phone buzz with a text. Carmy didn’t jump to answer it right away…he was the worst texter according to Nat and Sydney but you can answer for the both of you as it was a group text from Sydney who was long gone with her dad.

Siddy + (773) XXX-XXXX: Carmy, invite aspen to breakfast in the morning?? See you guys then! 👍🏾😉

“You guys do breakfast at the bear now?” You say lifting your eyes from your screen.

You heard Sydney made a mean omelette but you haven’t been back since earlier this year and you weren’t in the mood for that that night.

Carmy frowns and closes his eyes with a shake of his head, “uh yeah it’s a new thing that Syd came up with but we agreed to do that with everyone once a month…later this month. Why?”

“She wants me to have breakfast with you guys…knowing I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s not happening tomorrow anyway, so what is she talking about?” Carmy digs into his jacket, where he carelessly shoved his phone into after sending the photo off to Luca.

Another text rings out: at carmy’s place. just us three???

Not Sydney making plans and then placing it all at Carmy’s apartment.

He’s taking a breath, almost as a silent reminder for him to do so before his thumbs move over his screen: i don’t even eat breakfast, Syd.

Syd: well youre gonna.

~ Syd has notifications silenced 🌙 ~

“Well, looks like your work wife told your ass.” You laugh, which you translated into her message but didn’t comment further than that.

Carmy harshly exhales through his nostrils in disbelief, “my work wife huh?”

He didn’t hate how that sounded but he also never thought about marriage or relationships in awhile.

“Yeah…the proof is in the pudding, no matter what anyone says.”

Carmy pinched at his bottom lip as he attempts to dryly joke, “I thought it was rice? and what about outside work…”

“That’s something you have to figure out yourself.” You shrug, getting ready to pack up your notes and cameras.

You turn your attention to the table, which knows just when to lift as you tap on the screen to signal that you’re ready to pay while holding out your company card, “are you paying cash for the tip or card?”

“Uh, cash.” Carmy answers, “…what if I’m starting to think about what come’s next?”

“With Syd?” You question, your now sage and mint scented hands flying over the screen as you select the correct paying method before tapping your company card against the screen.

Carmy starts bouncing his leg underneath the table, “with everything.”

“Well…when you’re ready you’ll make moves to make it happen won’t you?”

Carmy dips his head, “you bet.”

And here comes the intense eye contact that you can’t help but to huff out some laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s just people with light eyes always do this thing where they’re just staring into your soul you know? Like damn, relax!”

Carmy’s confused as he holds his wallet open, “uh sorry for having eyes?”

“Shut up, glacier eyes.” You tell while Carmy just snorts at you.

The both of you don’t waste any time rushing back to his car as the clock is approaching 10pm. The wind’s definitely picked up and the temperature dropped, making it easier not to get caught up in the night time city lights which you often liked to do. Back in the van, carmy doesn’t wait to crank up the heat and you don’t bother to mess with the radio this time.

“So?” Carmy asks as he waits for the car to warm up some.

You keep your attention outside the window shield, “yes?”

“What’s the rating?”

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you that, Carmen?” You continue holding yourself.

He sniffs, “I mean—I was sitting across from you the entire night while you told me some of your thoughts.”

“So you thought you should also get the final score? I don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“Ah, I think you’ve got some idea.” Carmy lolls his head over to peek at you.

Laughter bubbles past your lips, “I do. I’ve absolutely had better because—what the fuck was that?”

Carmen feels a crooked smirk appear on his own face, “I don’t want to completely bash other chef’s work but fuck, I thought it was just me? You said it got a 4.3 out of 5? The ambience and service was spot on but…the flavor for most of the dishes?”

“I knew you knew something about seasoning,” you continued laughing while carmy rolled his eyes, “should spend less on the tech and interior and more on some fresh herbs.”

“Isn’t it called simmer saffron?”

That made you laugh even harder as you gripped your stomach, “You’ve got that so backwards!”

And carmy couldn’t help but to scan your features as you laughed and he felt his chest getting somewhat lighter? Just listening to the sound of you and being beside you. What kind of feeling was this? He’s felt it before looking at someone else but that feeling was more of a tug with that light while this one slowly poured in from the black.

“Don’t be too hard on ‘em though? There’s always room for improvement.”

“Sure, but we both know the bear is better and you guys don’t have a waist list months in advance.”

“We also don’t have any celebrities showing up either.”

“Yet.”

Carmy taps his fingers against the steering wheel, appreciating that, “right, yet…I’m sorry about March. I was too in my head about so much shit and you’re right, I took it out on everyone and I’m still trying to make up for it.”

“Effort doesn’t ever go unnoticed if people look and feel it hard enough.”

Carmy chews on his lips at that, “if you believe that…then why do you feel what I said about dating—uh us—about us dating is out of the blue?”

“I said that?”

“Your eyes did. It’s the most expressive thing about you which is funny to me when you talk so much shit about mine when you hide the rest of it away on your face. It’s fucking confusing but I think I gathered that from our dinner tonight.”

Carmy was just as detail oriented as you. It was in his language with food and maybe even in his tattoos that you tried to understand starting with his fingers first. The way he spoke about what he would do with the dishes that were lackluster, except for the dessert—that was pretty good. Carmy wasn’t much of a talker because he wasn’t sure how to express himself, always been that way since you knew of him at Noma…but he told just enough in his dishes and you told just enough between the lines you wrote.

Someone just had to look hard enough.

“…I ever tell you I was engaged? Of course I didn’t, we’re still…I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here Carmen but I’m starting to sense that we could be special if we both want this badly.”

“What do you want?”

“Does anyone ever really know?” You laughed, “ I guess someone to look past the circumstanial and I had that once but then he died. So that was the end of that.”

“You swore off love.”

“Love is many things but maybe I closed off the long lasting part.”

Carmy could relate to that as least with family. He never had much interest in romance even growing up because he lacked that confidence in anything being permanent besides the chaos he’s used to, then he found some of it once he proved what he fucking set out to do yet cooking was all Carmen really opened himself up to. While Luca and others encouraged him to have a night out in the town, he always left early or if there was one person that caught his interest, they get to talking and both get bored of each other since Carmy hardly made the move to take them back to his. Before Noma?

Maybe.

Back in Paris there was one that could have been permanent but Carmy had to break her heart since Noma was calling. Culinary was his true love and he honestly couldn’t tell you what she even looked like now if you asked him. Things that should have mattered tended to get buried in the blue of his mind unfortunately.

He didn’t have the time to be attached and you didn’t want to have your heart ripped out again.

“How’d—

“He was a firefighter.” Was all you said and just those words alone told carmy it was anything but peaceful.

It took a lot for carmy to scream at himself how Michael went out and he imagined it might have been the same for you. So he wouldn’t dare ask for further morbid details because what did that help?

So maybe you weren’t wrong about the both of you not being ready to take that step on going on dates but change was everlasting.

“Uh—what about breakfast then after that not so great meal?” Carmy asks as he pulls off from the curb now.

You think about it. Really think about it that carmy starts to assume you may have dozed off.

“Depends on the time honestly? And who am I to turn down a free meal?” You beamed at Carmy who lifts his shoulders with a chuckle.

Carmy explains, “Syd and I usually start our days early, sometimes even earlier for me if I don’t get enough hours in. but thanks to the reno those on the early shift can get prep ready and I heard…you’re not a morning person?”

You’re just as sarcastic but there’s no lies, “I don’t even know my name or birthdate when I first wake up…what do you think?”

Carmy snickered at that, “okay? So how does 10am sound?”

“That’s pushing it but…I think I can be there so that’ll give me the rest of the day to work from home.”

Carmy nods, “can’t wait to read it. Shake on it?”

“On what? My review or showing up?”

“Both.”

“I’m not sending you a sneak peek, maybe syd or even nat but not you.”

“Ouch.” Carmy mocks, still waiting for your hand to touch his.

And when you do there’s a spark, that makes you yank your hand back and you feel like you’re in one of those cheesy teen movies.

You’re aware carmy’s felt that too but he just clears his throat and placed his hand back on the steering wheel. Leaving you to lightly massage the palm of your hand, now glancing at the profile of carmy’s face.

Life takes time to live but once you start to just let it be, the green starts to stand out more and can be equally as joyous…once you get through the rain and mud that is.

And once the ice blue sets back on you, the both of you can’t exactly see the future but there’s always warmth waiting for the cold to give them a try.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

February fluff anthology series continues here.

#Spotify #queued #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear s3 #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x black reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x black reader #sydney adamu #carmy x sydney #natalie berzatto #richie jerimovich #michael berzatto #marcus the bear #luca the bear #february prompts #february fluff #neil fak #jeremy allen white

[yandere-sins]

The Orcas' Tale - Give up wanting to leave them (BE 2)

Sooo, finally another bad end, and a really long one at that! Please heed the warnings at always, and I hope you guys enjoy it ♥

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Orca Mermen x GN!AFAB!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Monsters, Violence (Scratching, Biting, Verbal Abuse, Mention of a tragic birth), Sexual Content (Fingering, Groping, Mention of monster cocks, Non-consensual touches), Pregnancy and Nursing mention, Baby mention, Baby death mention, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Hinting at death, Long Post

Why should you even try? 

Slowly, you let your breath slide out through your gritted teeth, the tension being pulled from your body as you exhaled. Until there was nothing. You simply felt nothing. No anxiety, no stress, no panic. The urgency from before was replaced by numbness, your mind turning blank as you stared at the pool, the water gently rippling. It was utterly dark, seemingly endless in its depth. Even with the light of the shining plant climbing along the walls, the only thing that got clearer by the second was that there was nothing you could do.

It was simply a fact. A fact you had tried to deny for so long but that those three had already pointed out to you countless times. You were weak; you were helpless. Without them, you'd still be out there on your little raft. No one would have come to save you. Being indebted to them was one thing, but you couldn't deny it anymore that the chance of going back to your life had already been very slim even before they found you. Of course they wouldn't want to risk their life for someone they barely knew. Make a tedious and dangerous journey for someone they had already saved once before out of the goodness of their hearts.

And you… couldn't swim there. You had no idea where you were, but there was a high chance it wasn't near land. Judging by how little light illuminated the water in the small pool, you'd have to dive and swim quite a bit before you'd reach the surface. And then what? Try to weather the moody waters until you'd either die from exhaustion, heatstroke, or drown in the waves? They already told you they wouldn't come for you if you left on your own, so aside from nature's cruelty, you'd also be subject to predators like the orcas. Not even a trained swimmer would have a chance. You certainly wouldn't make it back to land. Who were you going to fool?

Just like that, you realized the choice you had to make.

"Fine…" you mumbled, catching everyone's attention, Lyr even pried open an eye again to watch you. "I'll stay."

There was a moment of silence. Even your heartbeat was booming when there were no breaths or movements around you in the cave. The expectancy of a joke was loud and clear, even amongst these creatures that weren't supposed to be human enough to understand it. As if you were going to go back on your word any passing second now and throw another tantrum about how you want to leave immediately. 

"Human," Nerrocan mumbled, sounding almost like a warning. "Let's sleep over it."

"No." Shaking your head, you cut off the idea. "I am done trying to fight battles I can't win! I don't have the strength to keep going like this. I have to make a decision now and be done worrying and agonizing about all the possibilities and consequences! I… I'll stay here. With you guys. You promised to keep me safe, so you better step up!"

You could feel the tears shooting into your eyes and quickly wiped them away, fed up with crying and too exhausted to care about the warning signs your body sent you. Your throat was clogged up, but you had said your piece, ready to lay the argument to rest. Just like you were ready to finally go to sleep and regain some of the sanity you had lost over the last few hours. Sleep that wasn't induced by panic or violence. Checking the ground behind you for stones or unevenness, you settled down, heaving a deep breath and trying to let go of any remnants of your conflicting feelings. All you wanted were a few hours of not having to think or feel before facing the new reality you chose. 

"Human," someone purred to your left, ripping you out of the calm you tried to force yourself into. Opening your eyes, Krill's face hung above yours, his deep red eyes sparkling alongside his widely spread grin. Almost immediately, regret crept back into your conscience as you dragged your arms in front of your body, only for your wrists to be caught in one of Krill's hands. 

"So you agree to stay? Give yourself to us?"

Before you knew it, he had brought his head down, his voice sweeter than anything you had ever heard, goosebumps surging on your skin as the sound tingled all over you. You gave a brief but firm nod, wiggling your body beneath him while Krill's body weighed down on you, the merman not wasting a breath to respond to your agreement. Lips crashing into yours, the strange sensation of his kiss reminded you of Nerrocan's when he first pulled you into the water. Domineering, confident, hungry. It didn't soothe the resurfacing anxiety, the thoughts swirling in your mind as you were forced to open your mouth for him, his plump tongue breaking through to lick at your blunt teeth and taste what you had to offer. 

You could barely struggle beneath him, trying desperately just to get air. But with your hands pinned down, Krill only relented when he felt every muscle in your body tensing, briefly pulling away for you to breathe while he kissed along your jaw and the side of your neck laid bare before him. This wasn't what you wanted from this deal, but you neither had the strength nor the chance to hide the jerk that went through you when his teeth grazed over the spot between your shoulder and neck, your whine sounding awfully lot like a moan.

The three of them gave you no second to catch your composure as all their hands seemed to appear across your body, claws squeezing into your flesh while the pads of their hands rubbed up on your inner thigh. Their interest in you greatly outweighed their common sense, and they grew more and more eager to explore you with every touch that fell on you, never enough to quench their curiosity. It was then that you realized the full extent of your choice. The consequence of your actions.

"We'll take good care of you," Krill hummed, his voice sending shivers up your spine, causing a tingle deep in your core. You knew he was using his magical siren voice at you, and yet you could not reasonably explain the visceral need you felt to keep hearing it. Your whole body shivered when he added in a honeyed purr, "I promise."

You knew you couldn't trust him, the orcas' promises never actually being fulfilled. But you realized then and there that you didn't have the fight left in you to argue. To really make them promise. There was no time to concentrate on anything other than the sensations running through your body as his hand slipped below, a strong, clawed finger settling between your folds, slowly, rhythmically circling and pressing into your sex. The sensation left you writhing up to the moment when the tip of his claw got caught on the fabric of your wetsuit. You gasped, shooting upwards, only for more hands to grab your shoulders.

As if they coordinated their movements, Krill's body retreated, not out of sight, but out of your thoughts, the sound of water splashing as he sank into the pool, barely able to catch your attention as Lyr took over. With his chest in your back, he kept you seated, a smug grin playing around his lips as he looked down on you from behind.

"Who's a good human?" he asked, your brain fully aware that he was mocking you, turning your expression into a grimace. And yet… at the same time… his voice kept going where Krill left off, your gut churning with the need to hear more of it.

"I'm not your pet!" you hissed back, but the sound was more of a childish complaint than the confident reply you wanted it to be. However, before you two could argue, your focus was diverted, your eyes snapping forward to Krill's hands roaming between your legs, spreading them. With his body demanding space between your thighs, he used his hands to slip beneath the supple flesh of your thighs, lifting them up and out of the way, steading them over his shoulders. "What–!" you tried to argue when your head was forcefully pulled backwards, eyes falling back on Lyr, whose sharp teeth showed in the form of a large grin.

"That's where you're wrong," he chuckled, placing his hand, gently yet firm, around your throat, denying you the chance to look away as he leaned forward to kiss you, tongue swiping over your lips demandingly. You couldn't help but jolt and push your hands into his shoulders above you, but no matter how much of your left-over strength you used, he didn't budge a bit until you relented, letting him in, the merman exploring your mouth with his tongue to his heart's content, letting out little chuckles as he went about having his way with you. 

There was no time to comprehend and work through everything that happened. Your clothes didn't last long with their hands clawing through the fabric until they could brandish your skin with their scratches. Tongues turned into teeth, salvia into blood. You gasped when Krill filled you with one of his fingers, moaning into Nerrocan's mouth, who had made it his life mission to ease you into their groping with more kisses, allowing you to breathe through him only. If you had to assess them, he was the only gentle one, and yet, even he couldn't stop himself from squeezing your breast needily when his grabby hands found them. 

Even he couldn't hold back biting a bloody, possessive ring of teeth marks around your nipples when the chance presented itself, and neither could his packmates, the hot blood trickling from your shoulder and thighs mixing with your tears and juices while they licked the wounds devotedly. None of them was satisfied with just one bite, marking their territories on your body, their jaws stretching wider, teeth burying deeper, and tongues licking more fervently with every mark.

The claw inside your cunt made you anxious, your walls clenching around the thick finger involuntarily, even as you were distracted from the waves of pleasure and pain. You tried your best to keep yourself controlled and conscious, but you were failing miserably, their muttered voices lulling you into letting yourself fall, giving up your struggles. You hadn't yet loosened up enough when Krill forced another one of his fingers inside, cursing about your tightness. 

"How's my cock supposed to fit inside?" he complained to no one in particular while your body jerked, sobs escaping you as he rampaged your pussy. It hurt! It was anything but lovingly! And yet, he fucked joint after joint inside you, triggering all the sweet spots you wished he'd never find. "It's like you want this to hurt! You're so much worse than our females!"

Every tear trickling from your eyes was licked up by the other two, and every complaint was swallowed by another kiss. You had already given in to them once, but letting go completely was harder than you thought. "Relax," Lyr purred into your ear from behind, sounding so damn convincing to your struggling brain and making you breathe out the air you've been holding in. His hand wandered below, teasing your body on its way until it found your cunt, spreading it and flicking his finger unintentionally over your clit.

"Do that again," Krill ordered, perplexed when you moaned out loud, your walls tensing and releasing with a shudder. You could hear the knowing chuckle behind you before Lyr began assaulting your clit with his fingers, twisting and circling over it, his touch so rough and mean, and yet distracting you from the hardship of Krill fucking you with his fingers until it came all together in harmony.

Nerrocan demanded entrance to your mouth once more as he played with your breasts, his claws stimulating and pulling your nipples alongside the pleasure given to you by the other two. That way, you were kept between heaven and hell until you finally caved, your orgasm rattling through your body violently, eyes rolling back as the three pushed you over the edge. Your songs of pleasure ripped through the silent cave, and the three joined in with cocky laughter and adoring whistles.

For a few moments, you were gone from the world, gone from the pain and agony that your decision had already given you. Someone laid you down into the soft fur as you convulsed, fingers popping out of you before you were enveloped in more tongues licking off the remnants of your orgasm, exploring and tasting you, forcing out whines from your throat whenever they teased a sensitive area. 

You were doomed. So fucking doomed.

It was nice that you'd go out with a bang, pleasure overweighing pain. Still, you hadn't saved yourself with your decision, only putting you into more misery. It had never been an equal partnership that they offered. You were more of a pet than an accepted member of their squad. But when you focused your gaze, staring into three sparkling pairs of eyes, pearls of cum dripping from their erect cocks onto your body, you knew you were more than even a pet. You were going to be their personal pleasure toy. And outlet for their desires. A broodmare.

Their children's mother. 

And your body did the only thing it could do to save you, forcing your conscience to drift away from you, your vision turning black as the sight of them closed in.

"It is so small. Again."

You didn't dare to pry your eyes off the little devil baby in your arms, even when his great aunt spewed her venomous words around you again. Even after baby two—actually three—she still had nothing nice to say about the half-humans you had given birth to for her sons and nephew. She had nothing but snide comments and derogatory words, and though every one of them stung, there was little you could do against her. 

"I'm sorry," you muttered, flinching noticeably when your son accidentally bit instead of sucked on your breast, hungry and desperate for milk that you wanted to feed him but couldn't. Even if you were lucky to even produce milk, considering your child wasn't the only one feeding from it and the constant stress you were under, there was never enough for him. Compared to his brethren, your son was small, causing loads of fear and anguish amongst the pack if he'd even make it. Yet he fed like a champion, suffering from your lack of milk to the point of recklessly biting you. 

"Come now, Dessi. Cut the human some slack."

Compared to her sister, Thalassa was much gentler when it came to you. Nerrocan's mother couldn't and wouldn't hide the smile on her face as she scooped up her first known grandchild from your arms, one palm enough to hold the little man. Had the three merely told you how massive the females of their pack were, you might not have believed it, but they towered over you, easily trice your size. Once the baby was out of your hands, you clutched your breast, the left-over milk mixing with blood as you winced. Unlike his father, the little rascal didn't leave deep and permanent marks, but your time pregnant and nursing was visible all over alongside the claiming mating bites, especially with the lack of clothes you were given, modesty not needed underwater. 

"You're just happy it's your grandchild this time." Desdemona followed the statement with a loud huff, dissatisfied and annoyed as she always was when it came to matters concerning you, while she stared at the little baby in her sister's palm. Danger gleamed in her eyes as she watched Thalassa coo and bubble to the baby, almost looking like a human grandmother despite her statue-esque size and unmistakable skin pattern similar to Nerrocan's. But if you were honest, only a small part of you would try to save your child from her wrath should she decide to unleash it on your son. You knew better than to try and throw a tantrum around the matriarch of the pack, who wished for nothing more than for you to disappear. 

"If only these three rascals would get their bums out there and have children with strong and healthy females instead of… that."

Her eyes shifted to you, and you instinctively hung your head in shame, knowing how unwelcome you were. In her eyes, you were a mere plaything of her children, not the respected mother of her grandkids. Your first encounter had been tense, Krill, Lyr, and Nerrocan having decided not to make a secret out of your existence but introduce you to their pack. They received a lot of retaliation from everyone, but when they made it clear through bared fangs and screeching that they would choose you over their family, the matriarch eventually relented. 

She cared very little about the new position you gained in the whole pack as the mother of her grandchildren, though. And behind whistles and snarky looks from every merfolk you met in the months you had been here, it was pretty clear that the only reason you were even tolerated was because of your three mates, who wouldn't hear any reason when it came to their choice of partner. Yes, mates.

Another reason she hated you so, as her sons and nephew refused to find—in her opinion—better partners and make children that were worthy of being nurtured and taught the ways of the sirens. Orcas didn't tend to stay monogamous. To learn they actually had a word for it, hearing it the first time uttered in disgust from the matriarch, had been an awful surprise. Desdemona despised you for depriving Krill and Lyr of that possibility, blaming you for their focus ever only being on you. As if you asked them to obsess and impregnate you. As if it was all your fault.

When really, it was just another consequence of your decision years ago.

Being tolerated was better than being dead, at least, even if your body felt like it was dying. Siren-human babies were needy like a human would be, in the body of a mermaid, together with sharp teeth and a tail. The horror of birthing was still stuck in every bone, and you were exhausted from being up all night trying to get your child to calm down. Nerrocan tried his best, taking his son swimming or floating at the surface when he could, but he was duty-bound, away most of the day to hunt. And if it wasn't their child, Krill and Lyr weren't genuinely interested in it, only looking forward to the time you'd be ready to mate again. 

"That's right," Thalassa chuckled, playing with the baby that looked like a miniature toy in her hands. It should have alarmed you, but who were you to derive the grandmother of what she enjoyed when she could crush you with one hand? "I am so happy it's my grandson this time. You already have one, Dessi! It's more than fair it was my sweet, little Nerrocan having a child this time. And look how cute it is! You're the cutest little thing in the world, aren't you?"

Your child was happily bubbling while you shrugged away from Desdemona, who seemed to slowly but surely lose her mind over her sister's affection for the little devil spawn she saw in your son. "At least it's a siren this time," she hissed angrily, reminding you of the painful memories you tried to forget. 

This child was lucky to be born with all the traits needed to survive below the ocean's surface. Fangs, claws, gills, and a tail were enough to secure its place in the pack, unlike his sister, your second child, who was born human and not a siren. It had been another show of how cruel these creatures were, ripping her away from you the moment you had birthed her, never even allowing you to hold her. A delusional part of you wanted to believe she was still alive, but you had never even once seen her, the sound of her cries turning into gurgles the only thing you remembered.

Your relationship with Lyr had never been the same since then. After all, it was his daughter that just didn't make the cut with the pack. These memories were too painful to remember for both of you, but even when he showed up and slept in the same cave, bringing you food and gifts, you knew he couldn't forget them, either. 

The water in the large entrance pool of the community hall—another cave, though larger and wider, with space for thirty or more orcas to assemble and often used by families to chat and linger—rippled before you as a familiar face broke through the surface, smiling politely at you when your eyes crossed. She was young and highly regarded in terms of merfolk's standards, some distant relative of your mates. But you never even learned her name as she only came to collect your children at your mother-in-law's request. She had nursed your first son for you and did it for the newborn now, but not without throwing you a pitiful glance when she thought you weren't looking.

To her, as to everyone else, you were nothing but a minor lifeform, unsuited and better as food than as mother for the children of their strongest warriors. Had she not been family, surely the matriarch had asked her to bear Krill's or Lyr's child, and she'd be the one sitting here with them, nursing and chatting with very happy grandmothers. Envy was not a good look on her pretty face, but could you begrudge her for it? 

"Time for food!" Thalassa lilted, ignoring that you had just nursed him, at least to some extent. Lowering her hand towards the pretty mermaid, the latter scooped the tiny child into her arms, giving a well-mannered bow to the matriarch and her sister but sparing only a short glance at you before slipping under. Gone was your hungry baby, and you breathed out, trying not to make your relief known too much. 

"Hah…" Desdemona sighed, looking after the younger female with longing in her eyes. "If you could at least produce enough milk for your own child, we wouldn't have to bother our lovely and kind daughters and nieces with providing for it. Do you even do anything but take from us, Human?"

Biting your lip, you knew arguing was pointless. What would you even say? Apologizing would only make her mad, and standing up for yourself had proved useless. No matter how many kills and victories her sons and nephew dedicated to you or how many gold chains and jewels they decorated you with, she'd never see you worthy of anything but her frustration and anger. Changing her opinion was nearly impossible if no one she respected argued for her.

"Now, now, Sister. Leave the poor mother alone. I have nursed your children too when they drained you of all your milk, don't you remember?" Thalassa came to your rescue, and you shot her a brief smile as a thank you that she returned in kind.

"That was something completely different."

"Sure it was, Desdemona. Isn't it more important that our sons are happy? Don't you like seeing them do their best for their beloved and the pack?"

Baring her teeth at her sister, Thalassia finally relented with her gentle scolding, raising her hands conciliatory at the matriarch whose word stood above everyone's, including her sister's. 

"Only when the human finally gives Lyr the child he deserves will they truly be happy."

It stung. Hearing her underhanded insults at your lost daughter and yourself hurt exactly like she intended, especially when paired with a glare that could kill. Lowering your head, the tears stung badly in your eyes, even when you tried to hold them back, not wanting her to see your display of weakness. She still noticed, especially with the scowl her sister gave her.

"Everyone makes mistakes," she backpaddled loudly, not as much caring about you as she cared about the image she created of herself to the other few groups of female orcas lingering around but keeping their distance. How would she look in their eyes, making her grandson's mother cry? "Our sons and us included, Thalassia."

"After all, it was the human's choice to stay here."

Unable to hold back your sobs, you covered your face in your hands. You wanted to scream that NO! it wasn't your choice. Well… it was, but what else could you have done? Simply said goodbye to your life? Miserably succumbed to nature or the predators waiting for you? Died while on your journey and killing their sons while at it?

"Ah, the tears again," Desdemona sighed, defeated. As if it was her who was suffering a great ordeal. Knowing you were painting her in the cruel light befitting of her attitude, she resorted to brushing off your feelings, even going as far as to mock you. "What a pitiful creature. Truly pitiful. The only reason you are still alive is because our sons feed and adore you. They might buy into your crying, but I will not humor this any longer, let's go, Thassi."

Slipping into the water, her massive body disappeared into the depths you, too, called your home now, however unwillingly. You knew below you was an elaborate city of deep waters and caves, all belonging to the pack. Nerrocan had shown it to you, albeit over a long, long time, as you couldn't adjust your eyes properly underwater. Without help, you were lost, left to someone's goodwill to be brought from and to the cave you shared with your mates, stranding you wherever you were, oftentimes alone and hurting as no one would reply to your calls. 

When she was gone, it was another big stone off your shoulders, her presence nothing but agonizing and dreadful. Thalassa scooted closer, her giant palm settling gently at your back. "It's alright," she soothed you, and you tried to compose yourself, wiping away the tears. "She's actually very happy with Krill being a father and her sweet grandson."

Her comforting words were nothing but pretty lies. However, you nodded, the pack's second-in-command still instilling a good heap of fear into you, even if she was pretending to be nice. 

"Alas," she sighed, a thoughtful hum escaping her, no less melodic than any word anyone ever spoke to you. She leaned forward, the hand rubbing your back coming to a halt as her fingers wrapped around your body, claws placed against your skin. She didn't hurt you, didn't even press a mark into your flesh, but the sharp claws against your neck and above your heart were threatening enough for you to still, not daring to move and hurt yourself on them. 

"You don't really have to give her another grandchild, you know? It would be a waste to strain your body for Lyr again. That boy is no good, not even as a father. How about you give my sweet Nerrocan another child? I don't mind if it's a girl or a boy, but wouldn't it be so nice if we could become a big, happy family? Bigger than Desdemona's. See, I can't have children anymore, but you're still fertile. Wouldn't you like to see me at the head of the pack instead of her? I know I'm asking much, but you could do me this little favor, and maybe I can put in a good word for you with everyone."

You glanced at her from the corner of your eyes, too afraid to turn your head. Her smile was no longer warm and welcoming. There was no kindness and no motherly care left in the calculated, forced expression on her face. Once again, she made you realize you were nothing in this world, their schemes and power struggles just as bad as humans, and if not a pet to her son and nephews, you were a pawn for her to rise to the position of the matriarch. 

"Think about how happy Nerrocan would be if you chose him for your next mating cycle. And of course, I'd be so happy too if you'd give me another grandchild. It's your decision, of course. I am sure you'll make the right decision… this time."

You nodded slowly over her claw to prevent yourself from getting hurt. In the end, every kind word and gesture had just been to move her plan into motion, cozying up to you for her own gain. Thalassa was no different from her sister or everyone else, and when she slipped into the pool, the grand cave hall slowly emptying out with the other orcas leaving as well, an awfully familiar feeling of loneliness overcame you.

Looking up at the glowing plant light at the ceiling, silent tears poured from your eyes as you longed for the warmth of a real family and real friends surrounding you. Of any human, really. Of the warm sun and the cozy rain, clouds above your head instead of stone and water. Endless amounts of water. You missed days you were pain-free and cared for. Where someone asked for your thoughts because they liked to hear them. You knew what you signed up for by now, but the cost had been too great, too devastating for you to bear.

The trophies and gold you were adorned with wouldn't make you happy. Being pregnant and raising more children wouldn't make you happy. Being with your mates, not out of love, but because you needed them to survive, didn't make you happy. Being a pawn and popping out kids for some power-hungry orca lady wouldn't make you happy, regardless of her promises. You had a role in this pack, and as such, you were treated well. But just because you were tolerated and respected, you'd never be happy with how you were treated as nothing more than a mother to children no one wants you to have aside from Krill and Nerrocan, maybe Lyr.

Staring into the water, you couldn't see the ground below. It was there, you'd reach it eventually if you sank far enough, but you wouldn't live long enough to ascend from it again. No one would come to save you this time. No one would take you home and tell you they loved you. But if you couldn't be happy… then at least you could be free.

And finally, everyone would be satisfied with your choice. 

#Mermay 2023 #mermaids #mermen #yandere mermaid #yandere merman #yandere!mermaid #yandere!merman #orcas #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[keikakudom]

another old note I have about how Alastor & Vox's friendship ended

I think the idea is cute and dramatic that Alastor and Vox's friendship ended after Vox was so lovestruck and got overzealous, confessing to Al, only to get burned. 

But. 

Consider the following:

Vox and Al worked together for decades(give or take 20 years), they're best friends and know exactly how each other operate. Vox knows the reaction Al will give him if he confesses, especially that he wants Al as a romantic partner.

So Vox never does, not for years. He lives off being in Al's  presence and company alone, and is contempt with that. For years. It gets frustrating, and hard to hide that Vox wants to go the extra mile. Alastor, naturally, spots the minute expressions on Vox everyday, and what does he do about it? Well he /teases/ Vox about it! Teases Vox affectionately about how often he flusters, messes up, short circuits, unknowing(or knowingly...) that it's not because Vox is just a silly picture box, incompetent at doing work without help. It's because of Al himself. 

Gradually, Vox gets tired of this treatment. It's like chasing something he will never catch, a fishing line of meat indefinitely dangled infront of a shark. 

And maybe, after all these years - Vox doesn't even love Al with the same capacity at tht point anymore. 

By the time Vox confesses-- it's not out of puppy love. It's an ultimatum. You don't want to love me romantically? I can live with that. But will you atleast be by my side, in work? That you see and want me in any mutual sense possible. That I know the minute you tire of me, that I don't entertain you, everything between us won't be discarded? That worry consumes him the most. We have something to signify we are together. Vox needs something to show for all their friendship. Alastor is content with his say-so alone(something something nature/conception of radio. He IS the source. The originator of info).

So, moment of confession and Alastor --

A) doesnt take Vox's proposal seriously, "you're far too incompetent as a work partner"

B) is offended by Vox, who got too close and Al thinks Vox sees Al as vulnerable enough to need to ally with anyone(Not in weakness, but in capability. Al is very obsessed with his cryptid, detached from humanity, persona).

(Vox would still get all bashful and romantic though. He's just suddenly reminded why it wouldn't work out and why he pressured himself to force this decision after Alastor rejects him).

Either way, Alastor didn't want to appeal to Vox's needs even once. I feel like even in a friendship, there still has to be some sort of sway and compromise here and there, but it was just so suffocatingly one-sided for Vox. Fondness turns to hate, and we all know the story from there.

In their current rivalry status:

- Vox can throw a huge tantrum all he wants, slander and hatepost about Alastor on every big screen in Hell - show everyone that HE HATES THIS FUCKER.

- But in part, Alastor/as the Radio Demon being the (not literally but I feel his personality leans towards radio symbolism) originator/source of information, he is comfortable not caring about their feud because at the end of the day he is confident Vox isn't over him, or will continue to like/love him. 

- That isn't to say Alastor isn't bitter in his own way. He and Vox had a good thing going on but 'oh Vox had to go and ruin that'. So he just expresses that with his own opinions by demeaning Vox's tech and using his own actions to prove that he doesn't need Vox or any of his proprietaries in ANY capacity whatsoever. Very telling. 

#Hazbin hotel #Radiostatic #Vox #Alastor #Text post #I imagine a varriant of this occuring for rr!au #Except that there was never a confession. Just moving apart and a muddy separation

[milkteahood]

Can I make a weird request. Kinda like a next day after intimacy with brahms, it just the roles switched and brahms having to take care of the reader cause the cant walk. I just think it be funny and fluffy. Also he doesnt know many chores so the next day it be up to us to clean up 😂

Note: I haven’t realized I have so many requests in my inbox since I was not here much, so my apologies for the delay lol anywayyyyy I love this idea

days with you

Brahms x reader

As the morning sun broke through the window, you found yourself gently rolling over and away from it. Although it wasn’t long until an arm wrapped itself around you and pulled you closer. Brahms pressed himself against your back, his nose nuzzling your hair. It was quite cute, you thought to yourself, that even in his sleep, he can’t stand being too far from you. As you slowly opened your eyes, and the soreness hit your body, you started to recall the events that brought you into this situation.

Your memories were slightly foggy, maybe due to the lack of feeling in your legs, or maybe you were still too tired to think straight. Either way, you didn’t care too much, for even the little clarity you had that early morning was enough to fill your stomach with butterflies.

“No Brahms! How many times do I have to tell you? Throwing tantrums isn’t going to make me want to help you with any chores!” you yelled around the room, hearing his footsteps in the walls.

He didn’t talk much, not when he was angry anyway. After some years spent together, you decided it was time he learns how to do chores himself too. Initially he didn’t take it well, but it was understandable, all his life he had people do things for him. After a while though, he started to help, he realized it made you happy and realized that the happier you were, the more you will praise him and do what he wants.

“Stop acting this way! I’m tired too! And I’m done with your crap!” you yelled again, but this time, there were no footsteps. Was he ignoring you? The thought of it made you even angrier and for once, you weren’t going to go after him. And so you didn’t. You continued with your day, with no Brahms in sight.

As the night approached, you started to feel bad and worry. He didn’t come out for dinner, didn’t come for a shower, didn’t come in the room as you were changing. You realized he was probably really sad or really angry and you didn’t know which was worse. Either way it was you who’d have to deal with the tantrums. But to his credit, ever since you two became a thing, he has tried to get better. Which is why he didn’t break half the house in rage, but preferred to keep his distance.

You decided you had to find him. Both of you had a whole day to cool down and it was time to talk. As you made your way through the walls and to his old room, you found him sitting on the bed. Even with his mask on you could feel him stare right into your soul.

“Brahms..” you said.

“Leave.” he responded, his deep voice filling the room.

“I’m not leaving until we talk” you stood your ground.

He didn’t respond, just stood up and started to talk towards you. “Leave” he repeated, heavier this time. Yes, he was trying to intimidate you, you it was having the opposite effect. He stood there, towering over you. It was moments like these your height difference hit you. You just kept looking at him and you could feel him tense up. Was he really that angry with you?

Without realizing, your hand ended up resting on the side of his mask. But it was just for a moment, because he grabbed your hand and pushed it away. You looked at your hand and then at him again, even in his anger he was still being gentle. You didn’t want to keep poking the bear, but you also didn’t want to leave things as they were, so, in a very little thought decision, you ripped his mask off and kissed him. Your heart stopped for a second, lips on his, not moving at all. You only felt yourself breathe again when he kissed you back, although it was a very angry and eager kiss. His big hand holding you by the back of your head, keeping you in place, while your arms wrapped themselves around his neck. The kiss was hungry, full on emotion, and you knew in that moment you weren’t going to be able to walk the next morning.

“Brahms..” you said, rolling over to face him, gently tracing his features with your finger.

“Hm?” he mumbled, in a mix of child like voice and adult.

“It’s starting to get late, we should get up”

“I don’t want to, Y/N” he responded with the voice of a child.

“Well, I’m hungry” you pleated, giving him a smile.

After some back and forth he stood up and you did too, or better said, you tried too. Because the second your legs were forced to support you, they gave up on you. As your body met the floor, Brahms turned to you worried and kneeled down.

“Y/N?” his voice was concerned, eyes widened, looking at you

“I’m fine... I can’t feel my legs..”

He looked at you for a while, worried at first, not knowing what was wrong. As he saw you rub your lower abdomen, it hit him, and worry turned into a smirk as he helped you up and back in the bed.

“Rest” he said, and kissed the top of your head.

“So you’ll do the chores today?” you smirked, getting comfortable again, almost rubbing it in his face that he did it to himself.

As realization hit him, he bit his tongue. He was going to have to do the chores himself. He knew how to do his chores, but he had no idea about yours. He didn’t know white clothes shouldn’t be washed together with red ones, so now he got himself a few pink shirts. Nor he had any idea how long you’re supposed to cook something for, granted, a little burnt and crispy meal wasn’t gonna kill anyone.

Brahms didn’t go a few hours before coming back into your shared room and pick you up, still completely naked, and carry you downstairs. He didn’t say anything but you knew he needed help. The day consisting of him carrying you around and you pointing out to him how everything needed to be done, trying not to think too much about the rest of the messes you would have to clean up the next day.

You tried your best not to chuckle when he did something stupid, you knew that would hurt him. Instead you opted for encouragements, seeing that always worked with Brahms. The more you praise him, the more likely he is to do what you want. It kept him happy and gave you some peace.

As the day went by, your legs started to feel better and so you tried to help him here and there. Ultimately you found yourself in bed again, his head nuzzling your chest. You gazed at him, taking in his features and your nails gently scratched his back. Being around Brahms did have its ups and downs, but he was trying and he was slowly getting better and that’s what really mattered to you.

#milkteas asks #brahms heelshire #brahms x you #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire x you #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms the boy #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher fanfiction #brahms x y/n #slashers x you #slashers x reader #slashers x y/n

[sorry-i-like-romantic-fabriz]

I'm not lying when I say at this point, there's more posts condemning and harassing fans that ship Riz with anyone than there are ACTUAL RIZ SHIPPING POSTS.

With the amount of posts I've seen where people claim Riz shippers are running rampant everywhere and ruining the fandom, you'd think those kinds of posts and blogs would be inescapable. That if you go into the "Riz Gukgak" tag, every other post will be ship oriented. That the most popular Riz blogs are filled with ship content.

Yet going into the tag for ANY ship with Riz, you'll see week and even months long gaps between posts. Going into the "Riz Gukgak" tag itself, you'll find more posts berating shipping Riz than actual posts shipping Riz. These people are upset over something that's not happening.

I know not everyone tags their posts, but that just makes all this ship-centered anger even more baffling. It means if you're constantly seeing shipping posts with Riz, you are actively seeking them out.

You are making the choice to look for things that upset you. You are making the choice to find what little content there is of something that upsets you and distressing yourself over it. If you can easily avoid fan works that cause you distress, you are making the active decision to let a certain type affect you. Your constant anger over these works existing is self inflicted.

You are the one letting a very small portion of fandom make you feel invalidated. While you cannot always control what makes you feel insecure, seeking out that which does is by your own volition. If something existing in such small amounts makes you feel invalid, then there are two things happening.

1.) You are incredibly, irrationally insecure about yourself. If all it takes to make you feel invalid is the existence of something you don't like, that is something for you to personally work through. It's not everyone else's job to ensure you're always feeling valid in your own personal label.

2.) You are using your identity to attempt to control people and stop them from doing things you personally don't like. Playing the "fans doing this makes me feel invalid" strategy doesn't work when the thing you claim they're doing is not actually happening. You are using your identity to validate your unnecessary anger towards something you don't like.

I understand the strong connection we can feel towards fictional characters, and I understand how important representation is. However, when you use those feelings to justify your harassment of others within a fandom, all your doing is throwing a tantrum. You are doing the equivalent of a toddler going, "People aren't playing how I like to play, they need to either do it my way or stop."

#fabriz

[itsclydebitches]

Y'know, about Ascension: If you really think about it, the Red King turning into the Red Prince isn't coherent with the established rules at all. I've already wrote about this somewhere else, so let me just copy that over here:

Blake suspects, and the Curious Cat confirms, in episode 5 that the Red Prince is the Red King, who ascended after being unable to deal with the fact the he lost to Alyx in his game. But if that's true, it doesn't make sense at all for the rules the volume establishes for Ascension. "Ascension makes you a better version of yourself." Except when it doesn't. The Red Prince is worse than the Red King in every way, team RWBY even points it out during the conversation in episode 5. The Red King was kind, trusting and generous, the Red Prince is a mean, paranoid, spoiled brat. The Red King was skilled at his game, the Red Prince seemingly needs to give his opponents handicaps and intimidate their chesspieces to win. Even the toy soldiers seem to miss the Red King. One of them yells at team RWBY that if it wasn't for humans like them and Alyx, the Red King would still be with them before the others hurriedly shush him. This implies that none of them see the Red Prince as an improvement either.

"Ascension happens to you when you're at an emotional low-point, can't fulfill your purpose anymore or die." Except when it doesn't. According to the Curious Cat, the Red King was emotionally devastated after Alyx cheated and beat him, he was "a crying mess." Well, so is the Red Prince after Team RWBY defeats him. He's literally breaking apart, bawling his eyes out and he's still doing it when RWBY and the Cat flee. The Cat says the Red Prince's new purpose after ascending was to win at any cost. But he didn't win. Even when all the chesspieces turned against RWBY, they still managed to give him a decisive loss. And even though just crying was apparently the thing that made the Tree collect the Red King for Ascension, the Red Prince stays right where he is. The ground doesn't open up underneath him, nothing. You could argue that he was taken off-screen, but if so why is he the only Afteran whose new ascended form we don't get to see in the happy-go-lucky finale?

"Ascension happens when the Cat touches your heart and finds it 'too weak to listen'." Except when it doesn't. The Cat gives a piece of their heart to the Red Prince, just like they do with the Herbalist, but all it does is make the Red Prince stop for a second before he starts crying and throwing a tantrum again. And as previously stated, even said tantrum doesn't get him picked up by the Tree's roots. This inconsistency is even repeated in episode 5, where the Cat presumably gives a piece of their heart to the Hawk selling mudpies to give him the purpose of fighting the Jabberwalker, so team RWBY can get away. Because apparently the Cat can just change an Afteran's purpose. Easy-peasy. Who needs the Tree?

"Ascension rids you of your past memories and traumas so you can start new." Except. When. It doesn't. The Red Prince's whole character is based around retribution for his one loss as the Red King. He cheats and bullies the opponent's chesspieces into not trying, because Alyx won by cheating so he must fight fire with fire. He has an immense hatred for humans, because Alyx was the one who caused his Ascension as the Red King. The Cat glosses over this with one line of "The heart very rarely forgets" but... then what is the point??? And why is the Red Prince the only one this applies to? The Genial Gems don't remember Jaune, Somewhat doesn't remember Ruby or her friends and the Cat confirms that the Herbalist won't remember anything about his past life either. The Red Prince isn't free of the Red King's trauma, if anything it informs every single aspect of his character.

Just... everything about the Red Prince and the Red King flat-out contradicts the already messy set of rules we have for Ascension and it's just never really adressed?

Literally all of this. The Red Prince is one of the biggest red flags early in the Volume that Ascension is not the wonderful answer the Cat paints it as. But as you say, none of this is ever addressed, including all the inconsistencies. My reading at the time focused on the "fulfill your purpose" aspect because although that might sound great on the surface, the Red Prince is presented as a perfect example of how easily that kind of definition can get twisted. Oh, the Red King lost? We need to remake him in a way that ensures he never looses again, so we'll reinforce that loss as motivation (which, as said, goes against everyone else loosing their memories), we'll turn him into a child who is obsessed with games, and give him a moral code that embraces cheating, threats, and outright violence—win no matter the cost.

Thus, the general arc for Team RWBY should have gone:

"No one dies here and everyone knows exactly what they're doing with their life (a callback to our own insecurities about being Huntresses)? Wow, that sounds amazing!! Oh... the Caterpillar was taken pretty violently... against his will too... and we don't really understand what he did wrong when his smoke helped us come to terms with some things... but you obviously know Ascension best, Cat, and we trust you both as a new ally and as a character from our beloved fairy tale. Wait. How is the Red Prince better now? He's not! He's killing his subjects and trying to kill us! We get that we're the outsiders here, but it's looking more and more like Ascension isn't the perfect solution you presented it as. Ha... now here comes Jaune saying the Cat is evil, Ascension is evil, and he's spent years keeping his paper friends from killing themselves. Yeah, I think this is our literal and metaphorical antagonist for the season! Oh my god, Neo convinced Ruby to Ascend?? This is a horrible tragedy and is in no way something we'll smile about."

Ascension was bad. Full stop. The Caterpillar, the Red Prince, the Paper Pleasers, Neo's torture session, and this being the tool of the villainous Cat—everything screams, "This is a manipulative, cult-like magic forced on people against their will" so when the Volume instead swerves and doubles down on it being a beautiful cultural difference, moments like those with the Red Prince completely fall apart. The only way RWBY might have been able to reconcile this is if they'd leaned a lot harder into the untrustworthy nature of fairy tales, specifically Lewis' book. Meaning, if the girls came into the Ever After thinking that the Red King was this wonderful, mature ally—because that's what they read—only to learn that this was never the case, that would be a different situation entirely. He's always been a dangerous, tantruming child and Lewis just made up a new version of the character to better suit the tale, a lot like how Ozpin and Salem's tale has been sanitized over the years into something that ends at the height of their victory and romance. RWBY could have made this about fairy tales themselves, re-emphasizing our Volume 1 message that real life is never so simple and reassuring. We could have gotten a Volume where the girls simply wound up in a place from their childhood, assumed it would be as wonderful as their nostalgia recalls, are blindsided by how horrible things really are, but re-discover hope in the beauty the Ever After nevertheless possesses, the good people there whom the heroes actually help, and they leave the world acknowledging that it was never a true fairy tale, but it's better than when they first arrived... and that's worth far more than having visited a prefect world from the start.

I really just want to chuck the entirety of Ascension into the bin. RT didn't think it through—at all—and the result is not just a continuity nightmare, but at times produces extremely uncomfortable messages for the viewer. Without, you know, that being a deliberate choice on the writers' part in an effort to unpack those messages with respect and nuance.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas #long post

[atonalginger]

Snippet Sunday

It's Sunday and I have a snippet from Stowaway Savior. It's fresh, it's juicy, it may make you say "damn it!"

anyway...it's under the break.

Lila woke on a small cot mounted to the wall of an empty cell. Her whole body ached and head throbbed. She blinked, her vision slowly coming into focus. As she moved on the cot she realized her suit was gone, which meant all her gear was gone too. A small groan leaked from her lips.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a man’s voice said through a speaker.

Lila looked over to see a familiar face through a clear helmet visor smiling back at her, “Impressed you let me live, Vega.”

“You’re no use to me dead,” he shrugged, “how else would I collect the rest of your miserable clan?”

“What makes you think you can hold me?” she pushed herself up. He tilted his head and spread his hands, “the Emissary was honest and clever. She taught us how to properly cage a starborn like you. How to set sophisticated mechanisms to stop your lot from using your powers.”

“Oh?” she leaned forward, “and what would that be?”

“There are sensors throughout this whole ship that can detect even the weakest use of starborn powers. If a sensor is tripped the life support fails. The crew is under orders to stay in their suits so they’ll be fine but you…you need those systems.”

Lila blinked again, her headache increasing with the new information. “A sufficient enough blast of starborn energy, say a nova blast? That will cause whatever hab the blast occurred to depressurize.” He sounded very proud, “If you were smart you’d sit put.”

“You think I’d just sit here and let you hunt my kids?” She shouted, her voice tinkling with a crystal edge.

“You think either of them are alive?” Vega raised an eyebrow, “Agent Stone hit that obnoxious thorn in my side with a mixture of toxins designed to take down terrormorphs. And the xenofreak? Even if she had some piloting knowledge, the Liberation successfully destroyed engines and landing gears. She likely nosedived into whatever planet she ran to.”

Lila shook with rage as he talked but was unable to act.

“Let me put it to you this way: you can throw a tantrum and airlock yourself if you desire, I won’t stop you. But if you do that you run the risk of endangering billions of lives. If you sit tight we will be able to collect your feral partner soon enough and then we can focus our attention on the Key. If you lose your cool we won’t have the proper bait and your feral partner will raise an army for slaughter.”

“We’ve won the last three major conflicts against the UC, what makes you think you have an edge now?” Lila asked.

Vega chuckled, “We have friends among your allies. Friends who do not agree with the Council’s decision to work with pirates. If the Fleet musters an army then our friends will begin framing the Fleet, sabotaging stations and settlements in Freestar space. But none of that will happen if you sit tight. Think of all those innocent lives you’ll protect by cooperating.”

#atonalginger writes #snippet sunday #starfield fanfiction #fanfic #crimson fleet #Lila Aiza #starfield spoilers #sort of #its all coming together

[eisforeidolon]

I am not sure how long you have been in the SPN fandom (I have only been in it for 3 years) but I was wondering has the infighting about which J is actually the better one always been a thing? I sometimes see some fans really hating on them for what seems like very petty reasons and projecting all kinds of jealously, codependence, and envious behavior especially onto Jensen. I love Jared but the way some Jared fans act like Jensen has or had some creepy obsession with him makes me wonder if this is something that has always been around or manifested more after the prequel situation.

It's been around 11 years for me, being properly in the fandom. I binged the series just in time to catch the start of season 8 airing real-time, and came to tumblr when I realized fanfic was not going to scratch the itch of sharing speculation about what would happen next. So far as I'm aware, from personal observation and seeing people who've been around longer talking about the what the fandom was like? It's always been a thing to some extent, but the extent has varied a lot depending on when and what part of the fandom you're in.

The extreme Jensen stans - generally called Ackles Army (AAs) - have always been upfront and loud about hating Jared over anything and everything - almost literally to the point of insisting he's breathing wrong. They overlap a lot with hellers because of a generally shared desire to get Jared off SPN and away from Jensen, convinced he was in the way/holding Jensen back/throwing jealous tantrums to control Jensen and the show/whatthefuckever.

While some extreme Jared stans didn't bother to hide, a lot of them insisted they were totally fans of both prior to prequelgate and maybe some were - to an extent. For the most part they could blend in, because most of the time? Jensen and Jared were in pretty synchronous agreement - doing publicity together, agreeing the brother bond was the center of the show, not really doing a lot of other projects, etc. But over time, long before prequelgate, well it just always so happened that if either J got solo attention or there was some perceived difference? According to these supposed bibros, Jared was not capable of even considering making a bad decision ever, while nearly everything Jensen did alone was somehow embarrassing or suspect and supposedly reflected badly on him. They didn't necessarily want Jensen to go away, just know his place as the cheerleading subordinate. Of course now that Jensen and Jared are doing separate projects and attention for Jensen does not automatically mean attention to Jared, with the handy kickoff of prequelgate to claim extra totes legit justification over that misunderstanding they sorted out in a single phone call ... well, here we are.

By and large the AAs/hellers have always been more extreme - in terms of sheer quantity of assholes openly wishing not just failure but actual harm on Jared and sending death threats to him and other fans. But in terms of petty back and forth bullshit dragging the actors, these days they openly do a lot of the exact same nonsense: J is ugly! J is an alcoholic/druggie! J is a complete failure post-SPN! J is abusive to fave!J! J is obviously jealous of fave!J/trying to sabotage fave!J! J only did X because fave!J did Y so much better! Only fave!J was essential to the show, it was his character's story!

Both sides are constantly justifying themselves with the ol' OMG THEY STARTED IT! nonsense. Sure, the self-serving justifications differ just a little where the Jensen stans pretend to be amnesiac and blind to the really gross and reprehensible shit sent directly to Jared and basically everything the real Jensen says, while the Jared stans insist no one should object to anything they say because at least it's not wishing death on anybody (despite how much they lose their shit over even the petty nonsense when it's being directed at Jared). As if it's not obviously a constant back and forth of copycat stupid that has everything to do with each side trying to "prove" their personal superiority in being fans of The Better J by talking shit on the internet.

#askboxery #anonymous #anti actor stans

[kvaradonaa]

It's always exciting to read people's headcanons 👀

I'm so sorry I let this rot in drafts! I assume it was about my tags to this post, so I'll share some general characterisation headcanons. Obviously, while they're inspired by numerous articles and interviews, they're still my fictional headcanons, not facts about Sheva (unless I say otherwise). Under cut for lenght, not for any sensitive content.

1. He is surprisingly sensitive about self. He takes criticism badly and gets really defensive about it. He doesn't like being teased and made fun of either.

2. Despite that, he is still a people pleaser kind of guy. It's mostly fear of consequences. Him, and even more so his parents, grew up knowing that even saying the wrong thing can have terrible consequences. So, quite often, he'd just let others walk all over him (and try not to cry about it), because he is scared of crossing them.

3. Unless he knows he can do what he wants without consequences, of course. I mean, in real life, he did throw tantrums at his coaches from time to time. He definitely can be a bit toxic sometimes.

4. Speaking of throwing tantrums, he generally tends to have a rather childish way of expressing strong emotions, from anger and sadness, to happiness even. Not because he is childish in general, but because he never really learned a way to express them as an adult. Perhaps he felt like he was never allowed to.

5. Others don't seem to mind that very much. In real life, Ancelotti once described a situation in which Sheva banged on the door to his office, whining "You left me on the bench. You were wroooong." and honestly? From that description, he didn’t seem to mind, he found it funny and endearing even. So I guess there's something about him that just sparks some protective instincts in people.

6. He really likes to feel special. I imagine his self-esteem is surprisingly low for such a successful person, or rather it's really unstable. Sometimes he feels like he deserves special treatment. Sometimes he needs constant reassurance.

7. Related to the previous one, he gets way too excited about all the tiny signs that make him seem like he was chosen by fate, born to do great things, etc. etc. The way he, in real life, was excited about number seven in Hebrew 😂. (And the fact that he didn't choose it himself? But was given it by his teammate? And it's "sheva"! Must have been fate.)

8. All those headcanons might make it seem like I think he's a horrible person. Maybe in a way he is, but mostly he's just so lost, shaped by his experiences (maybe that's a thing for another post?).

9. In real life he claims he values freedom very much. In my headcanon it's a bit more complicated. He likes to believe that whatever he does is his own personal choice, but he finds safety and comfort in having others make decisions for him. But when he needs space, he's going to make it obvious... By not interacting with anyone.

10. Despite claiming to be a shy little boy that doesn't like luxury very much, he does like it very much. Maybe not in an obnoxious show-off way, but he likes designer clothes and expensive trips... and rich friends who can sponsor such lifestyle. Somehow he's always known how to get the latter.

#ask #i don't wanna tag it with name and surname but i somehow need to so i can return to it #so maybe #my fics #? #it's not a fic but might be useful if i forget lol

[ecargmura]

Pokemon Horizons Episode 44 Review - Spinel Returns!

Things just got intense now that the Brave Olivine sustained major damage from Rayquaza crashing into it. I think the third arc being a school arc makes sense now as the kids can spend time at school while they wait for the airship to be fully repaired, which could take a long while.

The Explorers’ plan to capture Rayquaza seems well-planned. If they change the resonance, it could disturb the skies and its frequency, which is what Rayquaza rules over. They even planned out how to attack it, by using ice and rock moves, which are what Rayquaza is weak to; though, there’s one thing they’re missing: Rayquaza has a ball of its own. If they try to capture it, will it work or will it get canceled out due to the Ancient Pokeball’s existence? I’m surprised the Explorers haven’t thought about the Ancient Pokeball in their scheme. Then again, only Amethio saw it, so the other Explorers aren’t aware of it, most likely.

Speaking of the Explorers, Spinel being in this episode made me happy because he’s my favorite character in this entire show. It’s crazy how my favorite character is a villain, but he’s just so clever and cunning for an antagonist that I can’t help but to like him a lot. He even planned that Friede would come after him, so he laid out a plan to trap him and wait until the other Explorers capture Rayquaza. Coral was also another standout character as her last-minute decision to have her Glalie Self-Destruct is always a crazy, but worthwhile plan. It’s unfortunate that not much is known about Chalce, but given that she will appear in the next arc disguised either as a student or teacher, maybe she’ll get that screen time.

It’s crazy how competent the kids are becoming. While they weren’t in an actual battle, Liko and Roy used their Pokemon to block the Explorers to protect Rayquaza. Roy uses Fuecoco’s Stomping Tantrum to cause tremors so Chalce wouldn’t throw the ball; when that didn’t work, he used Wattrel to zap the ball away; her Medicham knocks it out with Psybeam afterwards. It was smart for Roy to use all the Pokemon he has in his arsenal to stop them. Liko even uses Sprigatito’s Quick Attack to distract Garganacl. Even Dot joins in as she developed a  shut-down program. She jumps out of the boat with her Nidothing outfit and then plugs her Rotom Phone into the resonance device’s outlets. It’s crazy how each of these kids play a huge part in stopping the Explorers. Friede didn’t step in to save the day either! Although not a child, Ludlow even contributed by having his Quagmire speed up the lifeboat by making it use Hydro Pump.

The Friede and Spinel battle was fun to watch, but the writers really do like giving Friede battles with no results. He had done this three times with Amethio before scoring a win on their fourth encounter. Will this be the same with Spinel?

I just hope that the other Rising Volt Tacklers will be okay. I do wonder what Iono’s role in this two-parter will be as she did appear briefly here. What are your thoughts on this episode?

#anipoke #pokemon horizons #liko #sprigatito #roy #fuecoco #wattrel #dot #quaxly #tinkatink #friede #captain pikachu #ludlow #quagsire #spinel #umbreon #chalce #medicham #rayquaza #review #anime #anime review #ecargmura #arum journal #spinel matters most

[sexisdisgusting]

Oh my god the adhd post 💀

It's like with autism

watching every themlet anime fan selfdiagnose because they really like a certain show or game and its their "autistic hyperfixation" or flapping their hands "uwu stimminnggg"

meanwhile i hit myself in the head when i get overwhelmed, get stares in public for sounding and acting like the whole circus couldn't finish school cause it got me bullied and i started biting and can't even make proper friends online cause i'm just maladjusted and spergy 🤡 like man i got a caretaker that comes over twice a week to take me to appointments, i cant work because i will randomly throw caveman-tier rage tantrums that can be triggered by literaly nothing and have to live with my mom at almost 30 cause i cant on my own...

I'm not even in charge of my own early-retirement money cause the gov doesn't trust me to make wise financial decisions.

I can't eat majority of foods because the texture makes me gag and chewing in general is something i hate i can't be taken anywhere because of the ragefits i cant controll.

And im STILL highfunctioning.

I hate hate HATE how bored kids and narc adults will just selfdiagnose themselves with this fuckin hell curse and spread shitty videos of them handflapping and going "squeee kyaaa beep boop hehe" like its something cute and endearing.

Especially as a woman this shit is HELL cause i just am not able in any way shape or form to behave or look how society sees acceptable of me.

I'm not able to be quiet polite and meek, i am not able to just silently endure situations i don't like and i'm not able to wear makeup cause the oily film on my skin drives me insane and i compulsively pick at my face anyway and stubble makes me scratch myself bloody from discomfort so shaving isnt on the table either (not to mention i cant be trusted with razors due to a history of hurting myself) it is NOT CUTE or endearing or charming and it does NOT make you act like youre 5 or an anime girl i am boilinnnggg with rage

SORRY BUT I HAD TO RANT TO SOMEONE AFTER SEEING THAT POST ILY

YKNOW I AM ENRAGED BECAUSE I TYPED UP AN ENTIRE RESPONSE TO THIS BUT I HAD HIT POST LIMIT WHEN I WAS TRYING TO REPLY TO YOU

BUT BASICALLY, LET ME JUST SAY THAT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ANONITA, PLEASE DONT EVER APOLOGIZE FOR RANTING TO ME!!!!

people are ESPECIALLY really fucking weird with women who have autism, especially because the autism diagnosis is soooo heavily male-centric

i feel for you, anonita, and i love you so much, thank you for coming to me with your lovely thoughts <3

#asks #anon asks

[stromuprisahat]

But Zoya would obviously revolt after her family was killed. I get why he did it but i also get why she revolted.

Now I feel like I'm missing a part of the conversation.

But without context, like this- it wouldn't really matter. She's just one (1) soldier, perhaps promissing, perhaps strong above the average, but still just one person. And from what we've seen in later books, she doesn't really have any authority or organizational skills. She's good in throwing tantrums, or intimidation by force, but unlike plenty of FanFic writers, I can't see her as a natural leader. She lacks self-discipline and from what we've seen she provokes either blind adoration (thanks to her strength and looks) or fear she can achieve by bullying people into submission. Neither equals respect, and neither is likely to earn it.

If we read Siege and Storm, nothing was happening untli Alina arrived with the King's blessing to lead the Second Army. Zoya was just another teenager too busy arguing about which Order matters the most. Vain, loud and arrogant, refusing to obey the only person trying to keep the Little Palace running, because he's Corporalnik, yet not offering an alternative until Alina swoops in to save them the effort.

Zoya wouldn't be the only person, who lost someone in Novokribirsk, but honestly- she's not likely to be the only soldier, who lost someone in military action in general. Ravkan war machinery didn't strike me as a system that deeply cares about possible civilian losses. Sure, the scale is unseen before, but I don't think Zoya's change of loyalties would matter without Alina's desertion.

Zoya's just "lucky" her anger has a rather clear target. She knows the Darkling, his involvement is no secret, there was nobody to stop her go looking for her aunt. There's no reason to re-examine the events (like the tiny little fact her aunt lived, until she decided to enter the Fold...). Who would be Zoya angry with, should Liliyana die after running to help people on a battlefield? Or jump into the abyss, should the Darkling use megaCut, like in the show?

I might understand Zoya's anger about losing her family, but I can't get over how much do the details make it look like pure idiocy and her aunt's own fault in a way... to quote The Magicians:

- "What you're doing is very heroic. Now, I mean that. But what's the difference between a live hero and a dead moron?" · "Food tasters?" - "No." · "One dumb decision. So when it's be brave or be smart… You know which one, okay?"

#reply #Grishaverse #grishanalyticritical #Zoya Nazyalensky #Liliyana Garin #The Darkling #Sergei Beznikov #Alina Starkov #quotes #03×02: Heroes and Morons #Margo Hanson #Eliot Waugh #anti Zoya #because I know how some of her stans can get...

[captainnameless]

Daniel having to put max in time out and max isn’t having any of it. He crying and throwing a tantrum and Daniel is trying so hard not to get angry. Daniel never normally gets angry but he’s just had a bad day and this is pushing it over the edge. Daniel probably also cries a lot when he’s angry so he knows he can’t get angry, he can’t let Maxy see him cry, or shout. Max still isn’t accepting the time out and Daniel eventually snaps. He shouts at max for being stupid and he starts crying. Normally, max would be scared of people shouting. Especially growing up with jos verstappen as his father. But he knew that Daniel wasn’t okay. He never cried or shouted near little max so he knew something was wrong. He instantly stopped his tantrum and looked up at Daniel with a small frown. He waddled towards his daddy and hugged his legs with a ‘Im sorry daddy. Don’t cry, I love you.’ That set Daniel off again with another round of tears. He squatted down so max could hug him properly. Max ends up being the one comforting Daniel for the next 20 minutes or so instead of Daniel comforting and helping max.

the “disciplinary” aspect of their dynamic is actually so very very important to me.

i do think Daniel makes mistakes, he’s not a perfect human being and although he tries to be he isn’t a perfect Daddy either. but that’s also what helps Max not feel like he has to be perfect.

Daniel’ll use verbiage like “You’re not making a good decision right now” but he’ll never tell Max “You’re not good” because one decision, or one bad day does not equal Max not being good. and Daniel making a mistake does not equal him being a bad Daddy.

in this mini fic Daniel’s too firm with Max in an initial reaction and he makes sure to apologize for it. and i do definitely think Daniel allows Max to see him cry, obviously he’ll try to put Max’s needs first but a beautiful aspect of their dynamic is that they care for each other it’s not just Daniel caring for Max.

i don’t think Daniel will ever call Max stupid, that genuinely will not happen because that’s not an expression Daniel’ll ever feel towards Max, he’ll get frustrated with him maybe, yes. but he’ll never insult him.

if Daniel’s too emotional himself to be dealing with Max’s tantrum he’ll probably put himself in time out too. tell Max “Daddy needs some thinking/calming down time too.” and if that entails tears than so be it, Max is allowed to cry in time out too. and Max is such a caring soul. he might’ve been fighting a time out, but he’s drawn to Daniel like a magnet and so they’ll have a time out together until they’ve both calmed down.

#littlef1adventures