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crappymixtape · 17 days

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tangled • part one

❝ all you’ve known your entire life is in the inside of your tower – the brick walls covered in your murals skating around you in a semi-perfect circle, the view from the very top one that would take anyone’s breath away, but how could it be beautiful when you could never leave? that is, until an unexpected someone happens upon your hidden tower and offers you a chance to escape | ( 3.2k, tangled AU • fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

S E T M E F R E E, O H I P R A Y 🎶 cowboy take me away, fireswimmer

You were up with the birds, awake as fingers of sunlight slipped through your window and fanned out over the quilt you’d stitched together during the winter months. Spring was coming to an end and the days were growing warmer, enough to probably not need your quilt any longer, and when you stepped out of bed onto the cobblestone floor you felt a buzz of inspiration zip through you.

Maybe it was the way the sun crept through your window or maybe it was the sound of the waterfall rushing just outside the tower, but you wanted so badly to run your fingers through the grass. Hear the way the breeze blew through the trees. Dip your toes in the water and look at the details of a petal up close and–

“Rapunzel! Let down your hair!”

Mother’s voice drifted up from the bottom of the tower and you felt your heart hammer in your chest. You’d never asked her to leave the tower before, hadn’t asked her for much honestly, but with your birthday coming up maybe she would make an exception.

Every year, on the eve of your birthday, lights would illuminate the sky. Dancing and swirling among the stars and drifting beneath the moon. Beautiful and sparkling and it happened every single year. Why? You were dying to find out. They weren’t far from the tower, surely she would entertain your request. After all, it was your birthday.

“Rapunzel! I’m not getting any younger down here!”

“Coming, Mother!” you called back and tossed your long, shiny locks up over the hook spun into the roof of the tower. They cascaded down the wall and landed in a spun pile at her feet.

Pulling and pulling and pulling, Mother ascended up to the window inch by inch until she stepped up onto the ledge and into your circular room, “Good morning, dear.”

“Morning, Mother.”

“It’s time to brush your hair dear. I saw on the way up, you’ve got twigs tangled up in the ends. Hardly a way to treat such beautiful locks, my goodness. What do you do all day? Tsk. Just another reason for me to keep you here, you can’t even manage to properly care for yourself.”

A pang of shame hit you square in the chest and you wrapped your arms around your torso, making yourself smaller. Unseen. Unheard.

“Sit,” Mother said pulling up a stool and you did as you were told, sitting on the small surface as she took the chair behind you, brush in hand. “Now sing me our song. You know how much I love it,” she demanded, not asked, and you did as you always did…

Flower, gleam and glow, Let your power shine, Make the clock reverse, Bring back what once was mine.

Heal what has been hurt, Change the fates' design, Save what has been lost, Bring back what once was mine. What once was mine.

“That’s my girl,” Mother appraised, running the brush through the ends of your hair and pulling too hard at the end, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Mother…” you started, hesitant, reluctant. Should you ask? She seemed in as good a mood as ever.

“What is it?” she snapped, short. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, but something in you pushed. Please, please ask. If you don’t ask we won’t ever know. And you had to know.

“I was thinking–”

“Never a good thing,” Mother teased meanly and you bit your bottom lip between your teeth. Nerves swelling in your chest.

“I was just thinking...tomorrow is my birthday and well–well, there’s something I was hoping we might be able to do.”

Mother hummed in her throat, a sharp thing that held irritation, like you were a pest she couldn’t rid herself of. “And? Rapunzel come now, speak up!”

“And–and I was wondering if you might take me to see the lights at the castle. They’re there every year on my birthday! They can’t be stars…I’ve charted them all and I just…I want to see what they are–”

“The lights?” Mother started to laugh. “The lights? Rapunzel you must be joking.”

“No, I’m not…I’m not joking, Mother I really do want–”

“Truly, how could you think I would just take you–”

“Mother, it’s what I really want! I just want to see the lights!” you shouted, but as soon as the words left your lips you clamped your hands over your mouth. Afraid of what you’d just done.

Mother narrowed her eyes at you, lips firmed into a twisted line, angry and her patience evaporated as she took a step toward you and you shrank again.

“You will never raise your voice at me like that again, is that clear?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Her voice notched up in volume as she stepped closer to you.

“And I don’t ever want to hear about those lights again, is that clear!”

She was closer still, breath heated and harsh against your cheek.

“Yes, Mother.”

Towering over you, Mother took you by the wrist and roughly pulled you up to her face so that you were inches away, the heat of her words spilling and burning and wicked, “And you will absolutely NEVER, EVER be leaving this tower! Is that clear??”

When you spoke for the final time your voice cracked, tears streaming down your cheeks, chest burning with embarrassment and shame and regret. “Yes, Mother.”

Letting go of your wrist, Mother sighed and sank back into her chair, eyes closed and fingers pinching her the bridge of her nose.

“Ugh, now I’m the bad guy.”

You sniffed, wiping your eyes hastily with the backs of your hands, trying and scrambling to regain your composure. Afraid to push her even the tiniest bit further. You wished you’d never asked, wished you kept your thoughts to yourself. The lights, your birthday, all of it. Wished you could take it all back.

Clearing your throat you sat back on your stool, curled into yourself as you peered up at Mother sitting her in chair. Impatient. Bothered. Exasperated.

“Mother…” you started tentatively, “I know what I want for my birthday now.”

“And what’s that?” she sighed.

“New paint? The kind made from the shells you once brought me.”

She fixed you with a look, the way you might regard a dog begging for scraps, “Well, now that is a long journey, Rapunzel.”

“Please? I promise not to ask about the lights again,” pressing your hands together you tried to look sorry, thankful, grateful, please.

Mother sighed again, but you held onto hope. “Oh, alright,” she conceded, standing from her chair to gather her things. Surely you couldn't do much damage over a few days. “I’ll be back in three days time. Are you sure you’ll be able to manage without me?” she asked.

You gave her a small smile, “Yes, mother. I’ll be fine.”

“You know I love you,” your mother said, a tight smile pulling at her lips.

“Yes, mother. I love you too,” you murmured.

“I’ll see you a bit, my flower!”

And with that you watched as she descended the tower, your hair in her hands sliding down, down, down to the grass below and off into the open, free, world you wanted so badly to explore, only to stand at your window while Mother disappeared into the vines draped at the edge of the meadow and into…well, unlike you, where ever she wished to go.

I SAID I WANNA TOUCH THE EARTH, I WANNA BREAK IT IN MY HANDS, I WANNA GROW SOMETHING WILD AND UNRULY.

Unbeknownst to you, the path to your freedom lay in the hands of a man just on the other side of the very vines Mother had just stepped through. Well…technically he was a man, but really more boy in the way he held himself. And carried conversation. And continually found himself in trouble because of his inflated ego, but a man nonetheless, holding your freedom.

Flynn Rider, a rogue, a thief, a ruffian. Just over six feet tall with sweeps of dark brown hair, skin like it held all of summer and the sun beneath it, eyes like burnt sugar and dotted in freckles and apparently much faster than he looked.

“RIDER!”

“Sorry, boys, gotta go!”

Flynn crashed through the line of shrubs he’d just hurled himself into and fell out the other side, scrambling to find his footing. He was probably going to regret the decision he’d just made, but that would be a problem for future Flynn Rider.

Patting the satchel at his side he peeked into make sure the contents were still intact and at the sound of thundering hooves picked his pace back up, sprinting through the woods.

It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in sight, rays of sun shining through canopy and dappling the forest floor with warm sunlight. It would have been even more beautiful if Flynn wasn’t being chased by the King’s guard, but he supposed it was the only option when you’d stolen the crown of the missing princess.

Chest heaving with the effort, he pushed his legs to go faster. Sprinting over fallen logs and thick brambles, wincing but not stopping as they pulled and slashed at the thin fabric of his tunic. He had to find cover before he ran out of breath or else he’d face the gallows.

Again.

It wasn’t that he was a bad guy. He wasn’t murderous or wanted for treason or anything. In fact, he wanted to be done with this life on the run and so he hoped this might be his ticket out. Hawk the lost princess’ tiara and hop a boat to somewhere far, far away.

His lungs started to burn as he sucked in air, sidestepping a particularly nasty blackberry bush and earning a scratch across his cheek. “Damn,” he hissed, wincing at the pinch of pain. He could hear the guards closing in behind him, the captain giving orders to his men to split up and Flynn knew his time grew short.

An arrow grazed past his ear as his slammed into a tree, the tip sinking into the bark just inches from his hands.

Too close.

“A promotion to which ever of you idiots catches, Rider!” the captain shouted and it pushed Flynn into another sprint.

Step over step over step, out of the thick stand of trees and into a wide field of wheat. The shhh shhh shhh of the grass against his trousers hissing as he stumbled once on a dirt clod and again on a molehill until the third time he wasn’t so lucky.

The toe of his boot caught on a rock dug into the dirt, sending him flying forward and over the edge of an embankment. Tumbling head over heels down, down, down and hitting the bottom with a heavy THUD!

“Sir! We’ve lost him!”

“What d’you mean you’ve lost him??”

“I–I’m not sure, sir. We–we’ve lost visual.”

“Bloody useless–if you lot can’t find him, then I’ll do it myself!!”

Groaning, Flynn pushed himself up from where he’d landed and blinked away the knock to the head he’d just earned for running through a damn field. Voices carried down the embankment and he could hear the King’s guard scuttling about back up the hill – they didn’t know where he was.

Scrambling back up onto his feet, Flynn quickly checked to make sure the tiara was still in place before frantically looking for an out. He had a moment’s cover while they tried to find him back up at the top, but surely they’d see the bent wheat stalks at some point. The bottom of the gully was more of the same, thick brush and brambles and trees and…vines? All drooping down just above the ground at the same angle and blowing just ever so in the breeze.

Brows knitted together he pushed a hand to them and stumbled forward a bit when his hand fell through them, not solid. So he pushed further still, watching as his arm disappeared further and further until he was completely concealed.

“Sir! We found something!”

Sucking in a gasp, Flynn pressed himself against the rock of the tunnel he’d just discovered and held his breath. The King’s guard tramped down the hill and trotted right past his hiding spot, their shadows dancing across the vines as they concealed him out of sight.

“He’s here somewhere, keep looking!”

The sound of hooves slowly disappeared and when quiet flooded back in, Flynn could hear the sound of a…river? A waterfall? Birds and a soft breeze across his skin…taking a few steps toward the bright light at the other end of the tunnel Flynn shielded his eyes in the crook of his arm and walked out into the most beautiful place he’d ever seen.

A waterfall cascaded down a cliff at the far edge of the little valley he’d wandered into, crashing into the rocks below and fanning out into a river that wound its way through the ground and past his feet. All manner of birds chirped and sang as they flew through the cloudless sky, landing peacefully in the trees. And there, just in the very center, a tower made of brick and cobblestones with a thatched roof, a chimney and windows all around but…no way up?

He knew he couldn’t stay idle, even if he was out of sight for now, surely the King’s guard would find him. Taking one quick loop around the tower, there was still no door in sight, so snatching the pair of daggers from the belt at his waist he stabbed one between the bricks high above his head and pulled to test his weight. When it held he found his footing and drove the second dagger in and arm over arm began to climb up to the largest window.

His biceps were burning, his shoulders on fire. There were a few times Flynn even thought he would surely fall to his death, but slowly he made it up, up, up and when he finally fell through the window gasping for breath, he prayed to whatever gods there may be that he might find a bed at the top of the bloody tower. Stealing a crown, outsmarting two idiot thugs and then running from the King’s guard was no easy feat and he could feel exhaustion in his very bones.

Heaving himself up off the cobblestone floor he loosed a heavy sigh of relief and pushed his hair from his eyes.

“Gods, finally. Alone at last.”

And then with a very loud CLANG! everything went black.

IN THE COMFORT OF YOUR ARMS, ON A PILLOW OF BLUE BONNETS, IN A BLANKET MADE OF STARS, OH, IT SOUNDS GOOD TO ME.

There was a man.

In your tower.

In your room.

AT YOUR FEET.

How he’d made it all the way to the top of the tower without the aide of your hair was beyond you, but as you peeked out at him from behind your mannequin you couldn’t help the tiny pang of guilt in your chest. Maybe you didn’t have to hit him with your frying pan, but it was too late for that now.

You’d never seen one before, only knew what Mother told you: dark, beady eyes and sharp fangs, gnarled hands to snatch you with and kidnap you away into the night.

Stepping out from your hiding place you took a tiny step forward, the smallest step, and poked him with the handle of your pan.

“HEY!” you shouted, but he didn’t move. “Oh, gods…” Did you kill him?

Another few steps and your bare toes nearly brushed his arm. Slowly extending the pan again you turned his head with the handle and nudged his lip, but in place of scary fangs were teeth. Just like yours. Bending down carefully you lifted a hand to his face and hesitated, waiting for something to happen, but his steady breaths continued to fall and his eyes remained shut.

A cut chased across his cheek, the tiniest streak of blood along with it, and your brow furrowed with worry. Did it hurt?

You ghosted your hand over his, just as normal as ever though a bit rough and maybe a little dirty, but wide and warm. Not gnarled. Not scary. You wondered at what it would feel like to hold it, yours so small and his so big.

Slowly, gently, your fingers trailed through the sweep of brown hair covering his face and brushed it aside to reveal mole dotted skin, warm and golden like summer and he’s beautiful. The most wonderful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on and you want to see more and–

“Unghh…”

CLANG!

You instantly regretted hitting him again, but what were you supposed to do? He opened his eyes and began to stir and what if he’d jumped up to grab you?

A groan escapes your lips and you rough your hands over your face, you still have a man in your tower. What to do, what to do. As you took stock of your modest surroundings there wasn't much to work with. Your mannequin, a small stove, things for baking and sewing and painting, your bed, your closet–

Your closet!

Blowing a puff of air between your lips, you bent down and grabbed hold of his feet and pulled a little. When he didn't stir you pulled again. A little more, a little further, a little further and further and straining, struggling almost dropping him, you shoved him into the wardrobe and slammed the doors shut, propping the handles closed with a chair.

“Oh! Oh! I did it!” you squealed, sweat clinging to your brow, giving a little jump of excitement. “I did it!! I’ve got a person in my closet. I’ve got a person in my closet…I’ve got a person in my closet! Mother thinks I’m too weak to handle myself, huh? Well, we’ll just see about that!”

And as you took a victory lap around the room your eyes caught something on the floor. A bag you hadn’t seen before and as it fell open, the contents inside flickered in the light as it came through the cracks in the roof.

Picking up the satchel you pulled back the flap and found something even more beautiful than the man you’d just shoved into your closet.

Gold. Purples and pinks and turquoises and glittering in the sunlight and as you carefully picked it up, you were surprised at how heavy it was. Eyes narrowing, you hold it closer to look at the intricate way the gold pieces twist around the jewels and gems, securing them in place and creating little flowers along the sides.

A smile flickers at the corners of your lips. It looks just like the pictures from your fairytale books. The kind of thing only a princess would wear. Laughing softly you step in front of your mirror and hesitantly hold it up over your head. Just for a moment. Just to see what it would look like…

Slowly, softly you lowered it and let it settle upon your head and a flash of light strikes you. A memory, bright and sharp and vivid. A spinning sun hanging overhead. The most lovely laughter, like music, like a song. A warm embrace. A lullaby.

BANG!

Sounds from the closet and you nearly fling the crown to the ground. How foolish of you to let you guard down. How could you forget? You could hear Mother scolding you, telling you how stupid you were, how you could have been kidnapped or killed.

Heart hammering against your ribs your eyes settle back on the closet as it bangs again.

Your guest was awake.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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adventuringblind · 11 months

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Solace

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: angsty AF but happy end don't worry

Request: No, but they're open! I love seeing your ideas so please send them! I promise I don't bite... most the time ;)

Summary: you and Max get to grow together. Neither of your dads being the best parenting model. When Max sees what your dad has don’t to you, he knows something has to be done.

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, depictions of most forms of abuse, descriptions of injuries

Notes: written in second person. I’ve noticed a theme with my writing… we’re just going to ignore it and I will continue to heal my trauma this way :)

Masterlist

Everyone expected great things from you. Expectations you wanted so badly to meet. Yet you always felt like you were falling short.

Your father is a Redbull mechanic. A good one at that. He's incredibly smart and respected within the paddock. One of Max's top engineers.

Your mother had left during your childhood. This means you got to spend your time traveling everywhere with your father. Him even being your teacher until you started online school and graduated.

Christian offered you a job that involved being on the pitwall. One you took happily. It meant you didn't have to spend the race in the garage with your dad.

From the outside, you looked happy. But you weren't up to standard with what your father wanted. You weren't perfect.

Behind closed doors, things were much different. You were blamed for your mothers disappearance. Blamed for your fathers woes. Used as a physical and verbal punching bag to help him feel better.

All the while, you convinced yourself it was for his benefit. That you deserved this for not being what your father wanted. He provided for you all these years, why couldn't you do this for him.

When Max started at redbull, both of you were still young. Regardless, the friendship was meant to be. No matter how much wither of your fathers hated it.

It led to secret rendezvous and stolen moments of escape with each other. You understood him and he understood you.

Max failed to realize how you understood. His dad was open with his behaviors. Jos had yet to back down from a session of publicly shaming his child. Your dad didn't do anything close to that. So how on earth could you know exactly what he needed during those hard nights.

He'd asked Christian about it a few times. Why you were so shy and timid around adults. It was difficult to understand.

Christian had told him not to worry about it and to focus on his racing. He was watching out for you.

It was true. Christian had been your Guardian angel on multiple occasions. Even staying with his family over long breaks why home was too difficult. He made sure you were fed and had clothes that fit. Everything you lacked in your own house.

The one thing that stopped him from getting him away from you is that you never explicitly told him or showed any signs of it. He was working on assumptions and possible hints.

He'd tried to catch anything that would give him a leg up, but he'd yet to het anything.

Your relationship with Max grew over the years. The two of you melded. You knew how to tame the Mad Max that fought to escape, and he knew how to soothe your tears.

You found solice in each other. Stability in your friendship. A love you both were willing to fight for.

Which happened a lot.

Neither of you knew how to communicate properly. Resulting in hard arguments and yelling matches. One of you is always shutting down before any real reconciliation can happen.

Christian got to be a father to both of you in this way. Coaching you two on how to express your feelings healthily. He was routing for you two. Knowing both your fathers weren't the best, you and Max needed to learn and love with someone safe. He was glad to take you both under his wing.

Then you were able to flourish. You started smiling more. Your eyes lost the bags from underneath them.

Max started opening up more. Standing up to his father slowly became easier. His smile and silly attitude got to be more prominent.

You started showing affection to each other in public. Openly spending time with the other. Not caring what either of your fathers thought.

After all, you were both adults. Right?

You thought everything was going to be over when you moved in with Max. You were nervous about it, mainly because you were self-conscious about your body. Nevertheless, you knew it would be a good change.

It was a soft moment between you two. Your giggles as Max left chaft kisses all over your face made him smile.

He felt bad for looking. He knew you were struggling with insecurities, and he wanted to respect your privacy.

But as your shirt inches up your body, he catches sight of the dark marks along your hips and torso.

He immediately stopped everything. His breathe hitched in his throat.

You looked where his eyes had landed. The secret finally out. One part of you wanted to be relieved, but right now you were panicking. Your brain reeling with every possible outcome.

You did the first thing that came to mind. You apologized. You begged him not to tell anyone. Tried to convince him that it was your own fault. Your breath becoming more uneven with every word.

Max was taken off guard. He knew it had been bad, but he’d never seen it and you’d never shown him. His emotions were bubbling to the surface rapidly. But you didn’t need him to be angry with your father right now.

He removes his hands from your body to give you space. He didn’t want to scare you anymore then he already had. “Don’t apologize, none of that is your fault, okay.” It felt like he was trying to soothe a wild animal. “Can I hold you?”

You nodded your head yes. Eyes moving rapidly to every sound. Your senses hyper aware of everything happening.

He reached out for you slowly, making sure to stay within eye view. Something that helped him when he’d come to you. Slowly you made your way into his arms. Basking in the way he felt like safety.

“We don’t have to talk about it now, but when you’re ready I’m going to spend hours kissing all your bruises better.”

The next morning, Max took it slow. You both were needed at the track but he wasn’t in a rush. He wanted to give you time. You’d fallen asleep in his arms. Him soothing every tear that ran down your cheeks.

When you two arrived together, he made his way through the back entry with you in tow. Attempting to avoid cameras and your father. He needed to make sure you got somewhere safe first before he even attempted talking to his lead engineer.

He immediately went to Christian. His face when he saw you two approach made Max want to turn around.

“I can see on your face that you want to punch someone.” Christian sighs in exasperation.

Max looks between his team principal and you. Words now refusing to form in his mouth. How was he supposed to explain this? “Can Y/N stay with you while I run around doing things.”

Christian hesitates, confusion evident. “Only if you tell me what’s going on.” He could see you were in pain. You looked like you’d been crying.

Max leaned into whisper. Worried about cameras and the nearing possibility of your father spotting you two. “It’s worse then we thought.”

Christian rubbed his temples. Motioning for Max and you to follow him into his office. The door closing the a soft click behind them. Neither sat down, the anxiety too much for either of them.

Christian was trying to get a read off of you. You, however, had yet to even look at him. Your body language had reverted back to when you were small. When he let you pretend to work on the cars. It hurt him.

He was about to say something when a knock sounded at the door. A rough knock. A familiar knock. You flinched away from the door. Your survival instincts kicking in.

Christian motioned for you two to sit down. Max gently gripping your wrist to get you to follow him. You flicked unintentionally but he just looked at you knowingly. You needed to move and he was just trying to help.

You sit down across from Christian. Max’s leg was bouncing up and down so fast you thought he might put a hole in the floor.

“Come in.”

You don’t turn around when the door closes. You can hear his breathing. Aware of his every move without even seeing him. Fighting every urge to run away.

“Oh- I was looking for Y/N. We need to go over some data.” He picked up on your fear. You knew it as he walked directly behind you. His hand gripping your shoulder.

You flinched and turned away from his hand. The tension in the room was to thick for you to breath. Max was already out of his chair and ready to connect his fist with anything.

Christian put his hands in between the two men. Aware of the still open door and people peaking inside.

You were trying to cower away from the aggression. Away from the onlookers. Into the safety of Max.

“I think Y/N was busy going over some things with Max, but I’d be happy to look at it.” Christian gave his best attempt at a neutral smile.

Your father was growing angrier. It’s the first time he’d openly tried anything. The grip he had on your shoulder already bruising.

“Busy doing what? Trying to ruin her future even more?”

Max saw red. He was already angry, but now he’d crossed a line. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. However, the feeling of his fist connecting with the jaw of your fathers was to satisfying for him to care.

Your father reeled backwards. His hands clutching his face.

You jump from the chair. Finding refuge behind Max's body.

Max was ready to go for another swing. Before he could lunge, Christian grabbed his shoulder.

"Why don't you Teo cool off in Max's driver room. I'll come find you later."

Max didn't move. His chest heaving. The two men willing eachother to make a move.

You take Max's wrist. Gently trying to lead him through the door.

You, however, didn't get far. Your father knew something was wrong the second he saw you come into the garage. He’d been around Max long enough to know that he’s a protector. He knew that if you wanted, you could ruin his entire life.

So, he lunged for you. Grabbed hold of your hair and pulled. You were in his grip again before Max could even register what was happening.

“Max, go get security.”

“But-“

“Your going to be faster then me.”

Reluctant, Max sprints out of the garage. Making his way swiftly to the nearest security checkpoint. He was grateful it was only Thursday. The amount of fans in the paddock significantly less and he didn’t have to drive with his adrenaline already so high.

You were silently pleading that Christian is able to talk some sense into your father. His previously free hand now covering your mouth.

You’d been here before. Breath. Hold. Exhale. Repeat. The mantra you’re mind recited through your entire childhood.

You could see Christian saying words but couldn’t hear them. He was trying to get closer but the hold on you became stronger with each step he took.

Your mind goes blank for a moment. Your body present but your mind dissociated. You can see the interactions take place, but you don’t feel present, or even real.

He is shaking you now. Your body jostling. Then the floor. More footsteps.

Max.

He’s leaning over you. Checking to see if your okay. You can see the panic in his eyes. A soft blue that you will your mind to latch onto.

You can hear him now. He’s whispering to you. “Your safe now” falling like a prayer from his lips.

Max cradles you in his arms. Holding you close as the noises of your father struggling slowly get quieter.

Christian also appeared at eye level. Crouching down beside the two of you. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t see it.”

“I didn’t want to cause my trouble.”

“You never cause trouble.” A smile ghosts across Christian’s face for a moment. “Your dad will not be allowed back into the paddock. And you already know, but if you ever need a place you’re welcome at our home.”

Unfortunately, the events that transpired were within view of people and cameras. Christian deemed it a ‘family emergency’ and let you two go back to the hotel. Leaving the media Max needed to do for tomorrow and Checo to replace Max at the press conference.

Now you and Max lay facing each other on the bed. Neither has said very much. Only trying to process the events.

Then you remember something Max said last night. “Can you kiss it better please?”

Max smiled softly and inched himself closer to you. “Stop me if it becomes to much.” You nod at him.

He lifts up your Redbull polo uniform just above your waistline. Placing gently kisses to every place on your body that your father had marked in some way.

He pulled you into him after he finished. The two of you just staying their. Embracing the new possibility of peace you’d both wanted for so long.

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shadowsandshapes · 1 year

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[𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲] 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 (Gojo Satoru/afab!Reader)

A/N: This was a 3AM scream into the void that I cleaned up for fun. I said I was gonna do Gojo smut and here we are. So I present to you: Gojo tortures himself for fun. Contains: Edging, Copious Amounts of Cum, Gojo Whining Like A Whore (: [1K]

Minors DNI | Ao3 Link

His eyes were so pretty like this.

Those brilliant, limitless blues are caught in a stupefying haze – glazed over and brimming with desperation.

Their depths had darkened with desire as Gojo stared up at your gorgeous body, moving atop his own in a steady, mind-numbingly pleasurable rhythm. He wanted to look away, hide his festering hunger and madness that was flooding into his being but simply couldn't. It would be a shame to miss even a second of the beauty he was witnessing. You were a vision so powerful and captivating it demanded to be seen. Every touch, every glance and noise from your lips captured the attention and held it hostage, leaving no room for wandering thoughts. Only you. You consumed the man’s mind entirely with your lovely body and soul. What did it matter, anyway? There was no need to think of anything else.

Just you and the sweet rolling of your hips.

Gojo's senses were on fire. Mind bordering on the sweet precipice of delirium and bliss. His hands fumbled to hold onto your thighs, squeezing and pulling at the flesh to help you along on his aching cock. A blush seemed to envelop your body – tinting the skin a radiant, glowing pink. The imprints his fingers left behind told a story. Faint bruising, both healed and fresh, functioned as monuments to his continuous acts of desperation. No matter how many times you rode his cock, Gojo always ended up begging for more. He was positively insatiable. Always looking to prolong and endure more of your sweet torture.

Gojo moaned out a strangled curse, halting your movements. "S-Stop, stop, stop—" he breathed out, chest rising and falling as he attempted to regain control of his body. "I'm gonna cum, just stop — not yet, please."

With a voice so utterly fucked out of his mind and broken, how could you neglect such lovely begging?

“Of course, baby, we’ll slow down,” you whispered, grinding to a stop on top of him. Gojo whimpered at the loss of friction but babbled and mumbled a few frantic words of thanks, his voice faltering and stumbling over each syllable.

“T-Thank you, thank you, thank – y-you…” He could barely breathe, feeling your godly pussy tightening and relaxing around his cock. “I almost couldn’t hold it anymore,” Gojo said, digging his fingers into the tender flesh of your thighs even harder in an attempt to ground himself.

He looks at you with a clouded gaze as you tenderly brush his white locks back with your fingers. “Why do you torture yourself like this, Satoru…” The words came out of your mouth with such reverence as you committed the sight to memory. It was beautiful, the way Gojo panted and whimpered at each touch you were willing to give him, like a man starved for connection and love. Affection was the single most addicting substance in the world to him. And the fact that it came from you, an absolute goddess among men, made it taste even sweeter.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so –” Gojo moans, bucking his hips up into you. “So f-fucking b-beautiful.” He’s crumbling. You can see his resolve to drag this out breaking as he begins fucking you again.

You leaned forward, catching one of his shameless moans with your lips. A kiss to silence your needy, depraved boy for at least a few seconds. Gojo's cock twitched furiously within you, fighting the orgasm that was mere seconds away. If he came now, you would get off him and it would be over. Gojo couldn't have that – he was far too addicted to you to let that happen. Oh, but the craving he felt for you was unparalleled. He wanted it so badly. To paint your inner walls his colors and release his seed deep inside you. But not yet. It would be too soon. This was torture of his own design and delaying the inevitable would only make his release all the more satisfying.

Gojo thanked his lucky stars that you were willing to indulge this overwhelming need of his. There was just one problem: his body moved beyond his control, grinding up into your sweet cunt like a man possessed. Desire had truly taken hold of him. He couldn't help it. His cock chased after whatever friction it could get. Your walls contracted with each thrust, embracing his shaft like it belonged there, buried within you, pressing up against your cervix.

How was he supposed to stop fucking you when you felt so goddamn perfect?

You watched his eyes glaze over once more, a mantra of curses and pleas to stop tumbling from his lips. "N-no," he moaned out, glancing at his own, furiously thrusting hips. "F-Fuck, stop – I'm gonna—" Gojo was livid with himself. Fuming at his lack of self-control. He had begged you to stop and you had so graciously granted his wish, but here he was fucking himself into you like a mindless beast. You were so good to him and he couldn't stop.

A desperate, moaning wail spilled from his perfect lips as his cock began convulsing furiously within your tight pussy. You felt his release splatter against your walls, cock pulsing with each spurt and thrust. Gojo's eyes rolled back as he came, his head flopping down on the pillow behind him as his body began to writhe and shake beneath you. Even that wasn’t enough for him to stop moving, though. He bit his own lips in an attempt to silence his blissful cries. A valiant but ultimately futile attempt: every wave of release made him wail and sob in pleasure. He'd waited so long to cum. Now he couldn't stop. Pearly white seed slipped down the side of his cock as he continued to ride the high, coating the part where your bodies joined in slick. The sound of your bodies grinding into each other covered in cum was enough to drive anyone crazy. Even so, Gojo wasn't done. You were full, stuffed to the brim with his cum, but he had more to give, spilling over onto his abdomen and your perfectly bruised thighs.

When he'd finally drained his balls into your complete, the mess was immense, sticking to your bodies and dripping from your hole onto the sheets.

"I'm sorry –" Gojo panted out the apology. "Can we go again? Please, I need more. Just one more time."

One more time, he said. You both knew that was a lie.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk x you #jjk smut

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sirenlulls · 8 months

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get him back! → theburntchip

pairing , theburntchip x youtuber!reader

summary , where, in lieu of yours and chip’s reconnection, fans find out how it happened, and just why you ended things in the first place.

part one (bad idea, right?)

oh, i wanna get him back! 'cause then again, i really miss him, and it makes me real sad

🔴 Y/n L/n Talks On Breakup, Reconnection, The Launch Of Her Brand, & More! FULL POD EP.77 -Saving Grace

join premiere!

LIVE CHAT !

user: stop i’m actually gonna cry ☹️☹️☹️

user: I KNEW THOSE TWITTER B WORDS WERE WRONG I KNEW THEY DIDNT END BADLY

user: that’s so lala land of them

user: “if i ever complained, i’d be the nagging girlfriend” NO BABY 😭😭😭😭

user: never thought i’d say it but i’m glad they broke up bcs if they hadn’t done it then, it would’ve been MESSY messy

user: off topic but can we please talk about how pretty she is :(

user: “if he ever complained about you, i would’ve given him a belting” YES GRACE 👏👏👏

user: WHY DIDNT WE GET Y/N ON HERE SOONER OMGGGGGG I LOVE THIS DUO SM

user: Sending love from Brazil! XX 🇧🇷🇧🇷❤️❤️

user: stop that’s so sad ☹️

user: she’s so real for the anxiety thing

LIVE CHAT !

user: i feel like i’m watching a tv show

user: “i don’t want to lose this again” and when i start sobbing????

user: ok but is the dick game good

user: HE SWIPED UP ON A COSTA TOASTIE ☠️

user: nah he’s down BAD me too but like 😭

user: he def would’ve thrown a temper tantrum if she didn’t respond

user: grace booing is so real i wanted a kissing in the rain screaming ‘i love you’ confession

user: her smile when she said she’s happy now man they’re literally my parents ☹️

user: Love you both X ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

user: the world is healing

user: NAH MAN SWEAR THATS CHIPS BOICE COMING IN NOW

LIVE CHAT !

user: i’m actually gonna cry i missed them sm ☹️😭

user: the camera switching to her looking at him with heart eyes after calling him a bellend is so funny GET HER ASS 👏

user: chip is the new an*rew t*te 🙏

user: oh how i missed him calling her lady and missus

user: he’s the leader of the sassy man epidemic oh lord

user: OMG I FORGOT WHEN SHE YSED TO GO ON COFFEE DATES WITH HIS MUM

user: leave my girl and her spotify playlists alone

user: this has literally made my year

user: just in time for y/n’s fall vids

[tagged: savinggracepod , gkbarry_ , theburntchip]

❤️ liked by georgeclarkeey, georgebxggs, and 98,992 others

yourusername mum! mum! i made it! i’m on saving grace!!!!!! (and i figured i deserved at least one pic of chip from the launch x)

user that episode was the funniest thing ever i can’t even i nearly pissed myself when grace pretended to spank u with the paddle 😭😭😭

user mother ur so gorg i’m speechless

user you know the content is gonna slap when y/n l/n is there

user im so obsessed with u pls

user CAL AND CHIP AT THE FUNCTION SIR 👏🙇‍♀️

user best video in youtube history methinks

gkbarry_ loved having you on babe, even if the boss man gatecrashed 🫶❤️

yourusername he doesn’t like feeling left out smh

theburntchip oh alright then

max_balegde ICONIC!!!!!!

user MY ROMAN EMPIRE

user i hope you know that twt is in flames rn

user i gen teared up a bit when you talked about the breakup 🥹

user icons only

[tagged: ynapparel , nellarose , theburntchip]

❤️ liked by landonorris, behzinga and 97,872 others

yourusername self representing by wearing @ ynapparel the past (and every) week 😩🤭 featuring the love of my life & chip ig…

theburntchip wow alright

theburntchip i thought you were a g 😔

yourusername oops sorry babe

theburntchip we’re over smh

yourusername oh no… what a shame ☹️ anyway… hot girl winter!!!!!!

theburntchip the fits are fire though 😮‍💨

yourusername as always x

user EATING SLAYING DEVOURING

user OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

user forever obsessed with u

user graduated from cuntingtion university with an phd in slaying

nellarose love you bae x

calfreezy chip looking dashing as per usual

theburntchip aye thank you brotha

nellarose AYYYY LOOKING SEXY 🔥🔥🔥🔥

yourusername ALL YOU BABY 💋💋💋

ynapparel looking good and dressed to kill 😉😇🩷

user face card NEVER declines

lissiemackintosh this barbie is my mother

user ur so real lissie

faithlouisak doll 🤩

alice_hez 😍🔥🖤

user WHATS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 64?????

user angel girl 🤍

centralcee 😮‍💨🔥🔥🔥🔥

user NAHHH HES BRAVE COMMENTING ON THE POST W HER BOYFRIEND

user CENCH GET OUTTA HERE MAN

user SIRENSIRENSIREN Y/N BABY RUN!!!!!

user OH??????

user wait am i missing smth why are we freaking out

user @ user cench has always been lowk flirting with y/n, like she interviewed him at some event last yr and he was being so flirty and obviously she was giving him blank wall back BUT when her and chip broke up he got even WORSE like man was always in her comments tryna chat her up and she entertained it a lil but now the bitch is back and he’s bold

user NAH MAN GTFO WE JUST GOT CHIP BACK IN THE PICTURE WE CANT HAVE U RUINING THAT

theburntchip just posted to their story

#theburntchip x reader #theburntchip imagine #theburntchip fic #theburntchip x y/n #youtube x redaer #youtube #british youtube x reader #british youtube #british youtuber x reader #uk youtube #calfreezy #gk barry #max balegde #nella rose

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merrivia · 1 year

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I think Laurent is such an appealing character because he is so emblematic of those people who are broken but still want to be worthy of love.

Laurent, to me, is a variation on a type of person I’m familiar with. The clever, gifted, introverted child who struggles socially, weighed down by a big brain and oddly adult preoccupations. The one who becomes fractured through trauma, ends up hiding behind a pointed, cold, even cruel, demeanour as self-protection. I bet most of us know that person (some of us might even be that person). It’s not a good persona to have felt forced to adopt. But beautiful, barbed-tongued Laurent makes it seem more palatable than it is.

Truth is, he’s in a bad place before Damen. Laurent is that person who holds everyone at arms length, mistrustful of being hurt and abandoned, but somehow still forges ahead on a path towards some goal they’re determined to win as it gives them purpose, even when they can’t even really envision a future for themselves (where will they be in ten years time? Who will they be? They have no answer). The one who finds romantic relationships so agonising, they often choose to absent themselves from them, because they come hand in hand with unbearable vulnerability, and who don’t know how to feel sexual desire without the past intruding, and without feeling like they’re giving something up or losing somehow, who suspect they might be permanently ruined.

Laurent’s mind is like a steel trap, and it makes it easy to look down on others (not something others find particularly likeable). Is the type who can separate out the deep moral integrity that forms the bedrock of who they are, from the more flimsy, politer, social kind of morality which they tossed out the window in the name of survival (hard to make friends when you do that). The kind of person who is haunted by shame and filled with secret self-loathing, who uses humour to cope, and feels stuck in a state of arrested development even though they had to grow up too fast. The sort who can lose their temper so badly they cross lines no-one else can, but will die for the people they love. Who can seem flippant and facetious yet exhausting in their intensity.

And then good, honourable, warm-hearted Damen comes along and sees him.

This Normal Boy (who is really an Exceptional Boy), clothed in the body of his enemy. This towering stereotype of attractive athleticism, this strong warrior prince, well-loved, well-liked, who should be stupid and selfish, a repellent, violent aggressor, but is instead an intellectual equal, honourable and caring and kind. Who makes sex an act of love, of giving and taking in equal measure, makes it slow and tender and meaningful and pleasurable, adjusting exactly to how Laurent likes it, makes it no longer something to fear.

Damen who guides Laurent back to his own heart, is the light to his dark, and softens those lethal edges. Who laughs with him, matching bon mot for bon mot. Who loves Laurent, for all his faults, who sees him at his very, very worst, all that ugly, vicious darkness laid bare, and still gives him his heart, and will never abandon him. Who heals him.

The books are the ultimate broken person’s fantasy, honestly. That if we see a glimmer of ourselves in Laurent, then maybe a Damen is out there who could show us how it could be.

#Captive Prince #Laurent of Vere #damen of akielos #damianos of akielos #damen x laurent #my two lovely boys #they are so precious to me

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ssparksflyy · 6 days

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my tears ricochet but its jason grace and his 'lover' that he cant be bothered to give attention to

"even on my worst day, did i deserve, babe all the hell you gave me? 'cause i loved you, i swear i loved you 'til my dying day" but its his lover knowing she wasnt perfect, but also knew she didnt deserve the way he treated her.

"i didn't have it in myself to go with grace and you're the hero flying around, saving face" but its his lover watching him be everybody else's hero and prioritizing people he hardly knew.

"and if i'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? cursing my name, wishing i stayed" but its his lover watching him at her funeral from elysium and seeing how pathetic he's acting, saying he misses her, as if he didnt once tell her in an argument she was the last thing on his mind at the time.

"you know i didn't want to have to haunt you but what a ghostly scene, you wear the same jewels that i gave you as you bury me" but it's the way he can't think of anything else but her, no matter how hard he tries, after she's gone. but it's the way that he had the audacity to wear the necklace he gave her when they started dating to the funeral.

"'cause when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave" but its their 'honeymoon phase' where he used to treat her as if she was the only person he'd ever care for.

"and i can go anywhere i want, anywhere i want, just not home" but it's the way he infiltrated her home that once adored her and made it all about him. the way camp half blood was once the only real home she ever knew, but now it wasn't. the way that jason once served as a home to her, only for a very short amount of time, but she was incapable of reaching that home as well.

"and you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones" but it's the way that he now realizes and regrets how much and badly he hurt her. the way she'll forever haunt him. the way he refuses to ever forgive himself and knows that apart of him died in shame that day.

"and i still talk to you (when i'm screaming at the sky)" but it's the way that when she was alive, his lover would beg all the gods for a way out. the way she wouldn't allow herself to leave but begged for the strength to continue fighting for his love that simply was no longer there.

"and when you can't sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)" but its the way that jason can't stop replaying the one video he has of her singing by the campfire and the way he can't fall asleep without listening to it.

"you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same" but it's the way that jason could've saved her from dying, but chose to help another camper in need, thinking you'd just get hurt and would heal eventually. the way that decision is the reason why he can't get out of bed in the morning, the way that decision is what causes him to lose himself.

"you turned into your worst fears" but its the way that jason realizes that he's no better than his father, the man he hates most, for being so careless and heartless when it came to somebody who loved and adored him in a way nobody else could.

"look at how my tears ricochet" but it's jason grace and his lover who both lost themselves for each other, but at different times. one of those times, being far too late.

his lover died in battle against an invasion of monsters in the woods of camp half blood. jason saw here just minutes before she passed, knowing he couldve helped her, but instead decided to help the camper who was only a year younger than her and who's name he didnt know. he figured she'd be fine and accepted the fact she'd get hurt, but knew she would heal later. years later, he's still killing himself from within for being unable to answer the question, if he knew it all then, would he do it again?

#felt a little sad and now you have to suffer with me :)#got this idea like a week ago nd decided to make it into a mini blurb #im kinda obsessed tho #percy jackson #jason grace #jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.

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raelle-writing · 4 months

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Phee and Jin as parallels in DFF episode 7

I feel like I haven't seen enough people talk about how Phee and Jin are parallels in episode 7. Both reacting in anger in ways that damage Non, and that they likely carry guilt for in the future...

Spoilers for episode 7 below:

In episode 7, we see both Jin and Phee react to Non badly after finding out that Non has had sex with Keng. And the way they both react to that information is... not good.

Phee reacts to the knowledge that Non has been "cheating on" him (I'd like to remind people that Non was coerced so we as the audience shouldn't label it that way, but from Phee's POV that's what it was) by telling Non to "get lost and die"

And he says this despite knowing that Non has su*cidal tendencies and tried to take his own life what seems like mere days before this.

I feel like people gloss over this because they understand why Phee is angry. And I understand too. But the point still stands that Phee basically tells Non to go k!ll himself despite knowing that the consequences of that could be dire... and permanent. If Non actually d!es, disappears, or heaven forbid actually kills himself after this? I don't doubt that Phee will carry the guilt of those final words for the rest of his life, and think of what he could've and should've done differently to prevent that unfortunate fate...

On the other hand, Jin. Who reacts to seeing Non sleeping with someone by recording him. Jin isn't shown to post the video himself, but he still made that snap decision in anger. Copper has said Jin reacted this way because he thought Non was cheating on his boyfriend...

But regardless of his intentions, the fact remains that the video he recorded is the one that was later released. And you can see on his face even in the past that he feels bad about it, feels guilty for his part in what happened. And in the present you see that same guilt...

There's a parallel drawn between these two boys. The two leads of this series who have revolved around Non this entire time. One with a crush, one, his boyfriend. Both dealing with harsh emotions and dragged into the mess that's been created by the others. They both react in anger to the same situation, both do something INCREDIBLY damaging to Non in a snap moment of anger. And both of them, I'm sure, carry that guilt into the future...

It changes Jin from a happy, smiley person into one who is serious and harsh to his friends, who has a damaged relationship with those closest around him, who calls himself a coward and wants to run to another country and never come back.

And it changes Phee from someone who whole-heartedly loves and asks the person he loves to be his boyfriend... to someone who can't get the words out, who seems afraid of commitment. Because he could get hurt? Or because he could hurt them again?

The impact of these actions have changed both boys in the present, and the parallels in the episode are so striking and interesting... and I don't think people talk about it enough. There's potential for a compelling story about these two learning to heal and forgive themselves.

And I hope the show delivers on it, because it would be an incredibly deep and compelling story that touches on dark pieces of humanity that we all carry. The guilt and shame of not always being our best person, and the impacts that has on the people around us. It could show something really touching and heartfelt if these two people who were kids during all of this can learn to forgive each other, forgive themselves, and move into the future together.

#dff the series #dead friend forever #dff #pheejin #jin dff #phijin #Phee DFF #Phi DFF #Non DFF #DFF meta

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bats-and-birds-24 · 16 days

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Chapter 6:

3 weeks had passed since Tim went to his nest and began to spy on the base on Sullivan's Island. He managed to hack into their files and found out that an important official would be visiting the base today.

If he made a scene during the official's visit, he would be caught and sent to Nanda Parbat immediately, bypassing the usual rigmarole of torture and interrogation.

He unlocked the steel door and crept inside, his bat instincts winced at the lack of discretion, but the faster he gets caught, the faster he completes the mission, and the faster he completes the mission, the sooner Bruce would get off his back. He was already starting to get calls everyday from him inquiring about his well being. As nice as the sentiment was, it was starting to get grating.

Just as he began to wonder where everyone was, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

A voice sneered, "stop right there little bird." Typical Gotham henchmen line. He debated being brought in by him, but then decided against it, if he was caught this easily, it would reflect badly on Batman. He'll let himself be caught by the next one.

He shouts out, "This is Batman's territory you're on!" Lest they forget his loyalties. He then felt a sharp pain by his side, someone stabbed him. Tim fainted with a smile on his face, knowing that he was successfully kidnapped.

Tim woke up in what seemed to be a medbay. His first thought was, "that could have gone better, but at least I'm still alive." He was wondering if he should break out of the room and search for the important official, when the door opens and in walked the woman herself, Talia Al Ghul.

Well, this just made things significantly easier for him.

He starts off easy, "Is this room soundproof?"

Talia raises an eyebrow, "Why would you want to know now detective?"

The detective epithet surprised him, coming from an Al Ghul, it was high praise.

He bites out, "You know what I'm talking about Talia."

She sighs, "I suppose the Jason situation would have come up eventually."

Anger surged through Tim, "So you did disturb his grave!"

Talia interrupts him before he could continue, "That was not me detective." She paused before continuing, "Jason himself dug his way out of the grave."

A moment of shock paused Tim's thoughts, before he managed to get out a feeble, "That can't be possible."

Talia sighed again, "It is possible, although I can understand why you wouldn't believe me. I found Jason wandering around his grave in a fugue state with no memory of his past. He could barely speak. I knew that the Lazarus pit could heal him, so I took him with me to Nanda Parbat."

Tim was beginning to get frustrated, "you should have at least informed Bruce when he came back alive! He has become reckless ever since Jason died."

"I know that very well Timothy," her voice still even, "I planned on returning him to the manor once he healed as well, however, ever since he came back, he doesn't want to see Bruce. He feels abandoned since the man he thought of as his father didn't avenge him by killing the Joker, and even went so far as to take on a new Robin."

The air stilled for a moment as Tim flushed red out of shame. Of course Jason would think he took his place, but if he could just explain to him that Bruce didn't choose him, that he simply became Robin out of fear of Batman losing control, then maybe Jason would be open to healing this rift.

He came to a decision, "Take me with you."

Talia smiled and covered her face with a mask, "As you wish Timothy." as smoke began to fill the room.

Before Tim could react, he fell to the floor dazed, and for the second time that day, the world faded to black.

#batfamily #batfam #batsiblings #dc robin #jason todd #batman #tim drake #red hood #bruce wayne #red robin #talia al ghul #marked au

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hooked-on-elvis · 5 months

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THANK YOU FOR BEING STRONG, LISA MARIE PRESLEY ♥ (1968 — 2023)

I'd like to address a few words on Lisa Marie Presley today, on [sadly] the 1st anniversary of her passing.

BRAVERY. That's the biggest virtue I see in Lisa.

At 5 years old she saw her life drastically changing for the first time, and it was the first moment she had no other choice but to be brave, even not knowing about it, consciously. Her parents, Elvis and Priscilla, divorced in 1973. Imagine how this feels to a child. Imagine now how this feels to a famous child, since gossip is all around and there's nothing anyone could do to prevent her from being exposed to it (even if Priscilla and Elvis tried the hardest to protect young Lisa, the best they could).

Although she couldn't possibly understand what was going on, a child is still very perceptive and sensitive to the world around. At 5 years old is the age we all begin to keep the first memories of being alive, so Lisa must have kept to her adult years, vivid, possibly painful, memories way back from 1973, even if just a few blurred images and soft whispers echoing through her mind.

Then, at 9 years old she was forced to be brave for the second time, but it was harder. Unfortunately, Lisa lost her loving father in 1977 and grief stroke her for the first time, ravaging her fairy tale castle at once, without any warning, and, on top of that, she spent her whole life from then on, having those painful memories being brought up to mind when people, naturally, asked about her phenomenal father, all the time they addressed to her. She could never, and she did never, managed to escape this, to keep herself from thinking about her father's death and avoid suffering.

But the worst about having to heal and "get over" her father's loss, certainly was witnessing people, many, many people, badmouthing him. The man this young girl knew, the one she looked up to, the loving parent that took good care of her, that spoiled her to a fault, the first man that protected her and the first man she ever loved, the one man that treated her as a little princess and made her feel the most special little angel on earth, was gone forever... and the people, instead of being compassionate and protective about her, were all around spewing venom over her father's grave, shouting how bad of a man Elvis Presley supposedly was. And it all started since the day Elvis passed away, from the gossip in the book "Elvis: What Happened".

To little "Yisa" Marie, Elvis was a hero, just a hero... nothing more, nothing less.

But she didn't have him around anymore, to hug her and tell everything would be alright, or to put her at ease and say those things they said about him, those things that were hurting her so much, were all lies — even tho much wasn't, she didn't understand and it would've been good having her father there to make her feel safe.

All she had available now, to help her feeling closer to her daddy, to get to know him a little better for herself and maybe getting a good and sound advice from him, were books. Books with the family and friends own personal accounts on who Elvis was and what he did throughout his life. But those books... the same books that contained the good side of Elvis, contained many things a daughter doesn't want and doesn't need to know about her parent.

To who Lisa could run to, when needing a little support, a little help soothing her sorrow, her grief? Her mother. Now, the worst must have been having her own mother writing a memoir book where she accused Elvis of many shameful, monstrous even, actions and behavior (one of the vital books that tainted Elvis' image forever). Now, Lisa didn't have her father anymore, and her mother kinda looked like an enemy at times. She felt lost, alone, and didn't know why those people kept on talking so badly about someone she utterly loved so much and that gave her nothing but the deepest love she ever felt.

Reading gossip all the time, being asked about things written in book she couldn't possibly tell rather they were truthful or not; things written in books she probably didn't ever read to keep herself from getting even more hurt. Still, Lisa had to sit and hear all those hurtful things about her own father and she couldn't do much to defend him. She just sat there and probably feeling the words cutting her guts like knives being twisted nonstop. This little girl was deeply hurt many times in her life, and nothing could mend this part of her broken heart.

It made her angry the way she was forced to hear some people mocking her father. It maddened her how the press kept questioning her about rather Elvis was or wasn't a bad man. But she had to live with this and keep a straight face. She had to grow up faster than most children/teenagers do while the press - and a good part of the society - kept on trying to make Lisa hate a part of herself, her origin, her own family name. She saw her castle being crushed many times during her life, with only a few quick breaks, here and there, so she could take a deep breath and get herself together again, only so she could prepare herself to the next dark moment she sorely felt would come to find her, sooner or later.

On top of Elvis, Lisa had to deal with many more damaging situations throughout her life, AND I AM ONLY TALKING ABOUT HER FORMATIVE YEARS UNTIL NOW.

Because of her status in society, her name, her fame, her wealthy, she never knew if the ones around her were genuinely loving and caring for her or not (something her father also experienced as an adult, something that Elvis confessed to friends it made him hopeless since he would never know for sure if he had true love in his life or if the people around him were there to get something only he could offer, and something that wasn't his pure love at all. Imagine living a life where you never know if you are loved because of who you are or for what you have to offer. It must make one feels like they worth nothing, like they didn't deserve being loved.

Yes, Lisa was poured with Elvis' fans adoration and love, but its a different love, it's distant. It's a love not even Elvis himself could feel in his soul, even tho he loved his fans so much. He said to friends our, his fans love, was an impersonal kind of love because we didn't know him as a person, just as an image. He was right, back in his time people only knew Elvis' image. As much we adore them, Elvis and little Lisa couldn't possibly feel loved only from the fans adoration.

Not knowing if her friends really cared for her must have been lonely. Like she had nobody she could trust. We know Elvis felt like this.

Living this kind of life isn't easy, it would quickly take its toll on any of us. Lisa must have felt browsing in the ocean, all alone. She needed to escape from those uneasy feelings. So, she had some drug issues during her growing up period in life. I don't blame her, neither should you. Like Elvis sang, "Walk a mile in my shoes". You and I have no idea how it must be unbearable listening to people mocking at your family publicly; saying the meanest things about your father, some mean gossip about her mother too, here and there, and even mean rumors about herself, when people begun judging her body, her relationships, and so on.

Yet, Lisa continued being brave. She lived her life, her own way. Never caring what outsides may think of her. She got married some times, she had children and for a moment things seemed to be doing okay. But the worst thing could ever had happened to sweet Lisa, happened. Suddenly she was losing her only son, her loving beautiful boy, her Ben. All of those things that happened in that little girl's life until now, and then this, the most horrendous nightmare strikes her, breaking not only her heart but her soul, in a way she would never recover from.

Still, Lisa Marie continued being the bravest she could, for herself but mostly for the 3 beautiful daughters she had to be there for, but from now on things were never the same.

I still don't know about Lisa Marie's life in a deep. There's many more things, I'm sure, she had endure, she had to face in her lifetime [the broken relationships, not to mention the inner monsters she had to fight against every single day], but those things everybody knows are enough to make me feel empathetic towards her.

Of course, there's poverty in the world, there's people literally dying from starvation or from guns/knives and bombs - and we all feel deeply for them too, but that doesn't mean the famous and rich people don't suffer as well. Everybody has their own mountains to climb. And yes, I feel very empathetic for the emotional issues Lisa Marie Presley had to face after losing her father as a child, all the press abuse she experienced since a young age and then the tragic lost of her only son.

I'm not trying to make Lisa a saint, much less someone you should pity. Not in a million years. I know, we know, Lisa Marie was happy too. Not everything was darkness in her life. ✨ She managed to find happiness and bliss in the little things. She wrote beautiful, meaningful and deep songs; she performed live onstage graciously, even if it must have felt terrifying singing in front of an audience when people had unreal expectations on her because of her father. Lisa lived life her way. She gave her father's fans her love and affection the best way she could, all her life. She grew a loving family. She had 4 beautiful children. CONTINUOUSLY, SHE LIVED BOLDLY, DOING HER OWN THING, TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS, SEARCHING FOR HAPPINESS WHILE BEING THE STRONG, BRAVE WOMAN SHE WAS BORN BEING.

Lisa Marie Presley is an inspiring woman. She was humble, she was fearless, she was a rock star. ⚡

Unfortunately, Lisa was taken away from her family, from us, fans, too soon, exactly one year ago. But we will never forget her, not because of her father but because of her own soul, the life she created by herself.

Now, something to celebrate is that we, gladly, will read Lisa's own words about her life. About her father, certainly, but most importantly about herself and this is something to celebrate indeed. Elvis didn't had the same good fortune of having the time to collect his memories and writing a book that could speak up for him when he was no longer here. Thanks to Riley Keough, Lisa's beautiful daughter, Elvis' grandchild, Lisa will have this triumph, this final time to set the record straight.

I'm SO, SO, SO happy Lisa's memoir book will be released! She deserves having her story told by herself. Once again, Riley is being the real Presley she is. God bless her.

I love that GIF so much! It's clear to see how Lisa is emotional seeing her father's history being told in such a fair, not full of bullshit way. If we think about other Elvis biopics released previously, where in some Elvis is shown ridiculously talking to his shadow, even tho Baz Luhrmann's 2022 "Elvis" movie isn't 100% accurate, it was the closest we ever got to his real, full lifestory being portrayed. I feel happy the last her father's history portrayed onscreen she got to see was one that made her feel happy, proud and honored. That's all Lisa wanted all her life in what concerns to her daddy memory and legacy. I'm in peace knowing that, even tho she died so young, she was honored and witnessed at last her beloved father being honored and praised for the good, unique Rock and Roll hero, the pioneer, the legend he was.

I'm happy it made her happy. ♥

We miss you so much, EP and dear Lisa. Hope you're both happy reunited. Look down for us, sweet angels. We'll keep your memories alive. May God keep Lisa's angel soul in Heaven, peaceful and together with her beloved father and son.

We love you, Yisa. Thank you for living your life in such inspirational way.

Rest in peace, sweet princess. ♥

#we miss you ♥#lisa marie presley #elvis presley #the presleys #rest in peace

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tirfpikachu · 4 months

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seeing feminist events and protests etc being ruined breaks my fucking heart :( like what do they think they're even accomplishing? even if they hate radfems there should be alternatives to just thrashing every feminist good deed radfems do for women in their often impoverished communities

if AT LEAST they had been working hard replacing it with their own trans-positive feminist version or whatever in the area that would've been one thing. but often they just destroy and just go aha! job well done, that'll teach those bitches. when women in those communities actually really truly need these things and all they do is ruin those resources for others and losing the movement activists that the movement badly needs. if they only knew that other activist movements that they respectfully bow down to ARE ALSO FULL OF WOMEN WHO HOLD RADFEM BELIEFS!!! and if every woman who thought that sex mattered, which is especially common with woc from outside the west or with family outside the west since they know first-hand how horrifyingly bad oppression can get for afab people, if they all had gotten called out cancelled banished from the spaces etc the movements would've failed before they even began and that would've led to SO MUCH more marginalized suffering!!!!

i truly believe that these kinds of extreme trans activists tend to be more on the privileged side outside of being afab, and use that activism as a way to prove they're not bigots like their white middle-class parents were nope they're radical and they fight the cistem and are cooler than those freaky bigoted genitals-obsessed gays and transsexuals... the same ones that fought hard for decades to earn them all the rights they currently enjoy and were oppressed on the basis of being same-sex attracted and are now being thrown out of pride events

it's also interesting with different cultures, bc for example with french instances of trans activists going batshit, the french world is much newer to the concept of gender identity than english folks, like there's SOOO many stolen english words that young french qweer activists are trying to awkwardly make a Thing in french spaces and they have the intense righteousness of trans english tumblr but the people around them are just like huh ????? bc the words and the concept of gender identity just aren't as widespread in french spaces, esp since our language is so sex-based. it makes them feel even more like martyrs and seeing the entire french world as bigoted. it makes for some wild shit in france like sex-based feminist events being trashed and cis feminists being assaulted and only english radfems hear of it and call it out, bc english trans activists don't care about news like these, it makes them all look bad and they assume it's all just elaborate fox news type shit or cis women are being dramatic again

i just think that the way trans activists are treating the feminism vs gender identity divide is really unproductive, surprisingly violent, very dangerous, and negatively impacts the afab women who need feminist events and protests etc the most. especially woc, disabled women, senior women, and other women w few resources. i'm seeing women being turned away from SHELTERS and other life-saving resources for using the words man/woman in a sex-based way or wanting only people with vaginas in trauma victim spaces for safety and healing reasons. would a homeless dude spouting the same language be turned away from a shelter or lead to activists rallying and protesting outside the shelter for daring to home him bc he's unsafe for transmasc people??? would a trans activist say nope we shouldn't give him a safe home we shouldn't give him a space in a shelter we should record him and post a video of him and shame him and laugh at him???? I REALLY DON'T THINK SO

#rambling #radblr #gender critical

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA for not reconnecting with my brother?

I (21x) have a really complicated relationship with my brother (18m), not helped by the fact we both live with our mom right now. He’s had a really hard time in his life, with having anger issues, ADHD, what we both suspect is NPD, and our family being. Dysfunctional at best and neglectful/borderline emotionally abusive at worse. We both know that our family wasn’t particularly good for us, but we have pretty different approaches on how to deal with it/how we feel like it’s effected us.

This is where some of my (100% AH) behavior comes in- I was incredibly cruel to him as a young teen (12ish) and basically belittled him and pushed him away at every opportunity. We used to be intense but loving with each other and I feel like I took that and made him feel like he couldn’t love or trust me (which he’s told me himself multiple times). I know I failed him as an older sibling and I hold so much regret and shame for not nurturing him into all the good he held (and still does).

Where it gets rocky is our current relationship. I hate to say this and I’ve never said it to his face, but I feel like the roles have completely swapped. He talks over and down to me, gets incredibly upset when I won’t drop everything for him (I won’t get into it bc this would turn into a long vent but he once got legitimately mad at me for days for not giving up my bed and bedroom for him out of nowhere because he didn’t want to be in his anymore). He’s called me every cruel name under the sun, and when I fight back or our fights get ugly, he reminds me it’s all my fault he’s like this because I ruined our relationship. I’ve tried to heal from my own separate trauma and mend our family situation but whenever I talk to him it’s like I regress into a fawning doormat who never challenges the way he absolutely steps over me and puts me down (my friends have talked to me about this and have come down a lot harsher than me, so I’m borrowing their words because I can’t let go of the fact he’s not. Wrong to be this upset with me- I’m a victim of emotional abuse in my own right and I know how it feels to be wrapped in fear and hate and don’t hold it against him that he’s been hurt by me).

I’ve wanted to be a better sibling for a long time, and since about 16 I’ve made a conscious effort to shelf my pent up resentment and hurt emotions to try to always understand him and give him space to be upset, plus always taking the step to reconcile and apologize for my part to play in arguments. I refuse to call him any of the horrible names I used to (bare minimum I know, but I’ve really worked to diffuse that anger and make sure everything I say isnt an attack on him personally and only ever touches oh his current actions) and I try every diffusing move in the book with only framing my feeling as mine and not reflective of who he is and how I want to know his feelings so we can work to understand each other and move past the proboem. But he still treats me like an unstable, untrustworthy bitch who “emotionally manipulates him” by breaking down crying when he calls me names and tells me I’m stupid and he’s above my level of intellectual thought and rationale (I wish I was joking but he has directly said this, almost word for word).

I’m at a big crossroads. I want to keep trying to show him I love him and want him in my life, but it feels like he’s given up on me. If he truly has, I think I have to accept it as part of my failures and shames, but he also tells me he wishes I spent more time with him and that he wants to have a relationship with me. AITA for trying not to engage with him anymore? I want to support him but when he treats me badly if makes me regress into anger and like I’m just digging myself deeper and I’m never going to be good enough to be part of his life. I don’t know what to do with myself and how to live around him when a conversation as small as asking him to do the dishes turns into him berating me for being a nagging stupid asshole.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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masculinepeacock · 1 year

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goddess given righteous anger

Touching Spirit Bear, Ben Mikaelson // Deluge: 'Questions directed toward the idea of Mary', Leila Chatti // @braveburattino // How to Cure a Ghost; 'after the loss, take two', Fariha Róisín // Show Your Fangs, The Crane Wives // @dateamonster // Medea, Euripides // Ziegfield Follies // The Myth of Devotion, Louise Glück // In the Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado

[Image Description: A series of quotes and images combined. 1: "People change two ways - with slow persistent pressure, or with a single and sudden traumatic experience." 2: "And how long before you realized (did you realize?) shame was a blade / you turned against yourself?" 3: Art of a deer with a skull for it's head, with smoke billowing out of it, the horse's mouth is open. The deer is rearing back on it's hooves and there are hills and trees all around it, the deer and smoke are white and everything else is red. The left antler is partially red. 4: "how do i ask to be saved in a world like this? a mysterious bruise, all splotchy, wanting so badly to heal". 5: "With malice, beasts will show their fangs They're in for a surprise Bravely I will wield my weapon I made from fangs of those that died". 6: A tumblr post that reads, "girl transformed by monstrous adolescence x girl killed off by the narrative for having too much sex". 7: "CHORUS LEADER: You would become the wretchedest of women. MEDEA: Then let it be." 8: A photo of Hedy Lamarr in Ziegfield Follies. 9: "because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness" 10: " 'I had a room to myself as a kid, but my mother was always quick to point out that it wasn't my room, it was her room and I was merely permitted to occupy it. Her point, of course, was that my parents had earned everything and I was merely borrowing the space, and while this is technically true I cannot help but marvel at the singular damage of this dark idea: That was my existence as a child was a kind of debt and nothing, no matter how small, was mine. That no space was truly private; anything of mine could be forfeited at someone else's whim.' " /end ID]

#divine tag #she's my fucked up babygirl #she's a paladin now!!!#c: lost township #dnd #beatrice.txt

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bandnerdlevel43 · 8 days

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Ravioli Week, Day Two- Tender Care (Sickfic, sequel to Day One)

Lu Legend x Ravio (Ravioli)

Summary: After a failed attempt to save Rulie, Hilda led Ravio and the others into hiding with nothing but a sick and injured Legend to show for their efforts. Everyone’s taking it badly- even Ravio, who’s Link is the only one free from the Shadow’s clutches, is unable to leave Legend’s side.

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: Nothing major. Legend suffers the aftereffects of his time in Dink Jail, Ravio and Shadow are a little sad, Hilda is tired of Everything, mosty light angst with fluff at the end

A/N: I’m apologizing profusely yet again for being super late. In my defense, I hit a massive writer’s block after day one, and school has been the worst lately. At the same time, I didn’t want to quit Ravioli Week after being committed to it for so long, and this is the result. This was written in the midst of my dry spell, so it was mostly a sort of “practice run” with the focus on how each character bounces off of one another. I’ll be back to writing regularly (and maybe with better quality?) now that my braincells are working and school is over. Thank you so much!

----

“How is he?” Hilda asked.

Ravio blinked up at the Queen of Lorule from his spot beside Legend. Her hair was in a loose ponytail- he'd forgotten to help her braid it- and her makeup was minimal. It had been, ever since the rescue. Ravio couldn't judge. She had been preoccupied with other matters.

“His fever is getting worse,” he mumbled, softly running his fingers through the sleeping hero's hair. “His wounds haven't healed, and he's been coughing his throat raw.”

Hilda exhaled deeply. She sat beside him, joining him in his quiet vigil. “Is there anything I can get you?” she asked intently.

“Saria's taking care of it,” he said.

“I'm talking about you, Ravio, not him.”

Ravio hesitated. He looked away and shook his head.

She laid a hand on his shoulder, and Ravio lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. They were tired, likely from the strain of holding the group together. She really shouldn't be worrying about him, of all people. She knew he could take care of himself. Still, she continued. “Ravio, you haven't slept in days,” she hissed under her breath. “You haven't eaten, either. What's going on?”

Ravio flinched and chewed the inside of his cheek. “I-I'm sorry, I just-” he stammered. “I've- well, I've been worried, see, and I just haven't found the time-”

Legend shifted and grunted in his sleep. Ravio froze with his mouth open. He snapped it closed and frowned, pausing for a long moment.

“Never mind,” Hilda muttered. “Just… promise you'll eat your food and get some sleep.”

Ravio nodded absently and narrowed his eyes at the rise and fall of Legend's chest, his ears flicking in amusement.

Hilda sighed impatiently and stood, walking away with her cape snapping in the air. He felt a prick of guilt in his heart for ignoring her, but it wasn't long before it was swiftly packed away into the neat little box in the back of his head where he hid the rest of his cares and worries. He was always left with some form of sorrow or another whenever he did that, as if his mind was lamenting the passing of his own emotions.

What a silly thought.

“Hmm… Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” Ravio asked the trees. He chuckled. “For shame, Mister Hero.”

Silence.

“Did you hear something you liked?” he went on, his tone light. “Or did you notice the irony in her request? One of the two, if not both, I assume.”

My, the crickets sound rather beautiful tonight.

“Bold. But justified, probably,” he reasoned. “And it's so very Hilda of her.”

“It's because she cares about you.”

One of the shadows flickered, and a blood red eye stared at him from amidst the gloom. “Idiot,” its owner added.

Ravio smiled. “Shadow. I should've guessed Hilda wasn't the only one in character today.”

“What does that mean?”

“Meaning I expected Mister Hero- who is currently faking sleep- to answer.” He shrugged. “I suppose finding another nosy hero in the bushes should've been expected as well.”

Shadow emerged from his namesake with folded arms. “Very clever.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Legend grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Look, you're both very witty, but I'd bet each rupee in Ravio's pockets right now that Saria can hear every word you two are saying.”

Shadow snorted. “Doesn't matter. She'd know what our breath smelled like without even getting close.”

“It is somewhat of an inevitability,” Ravio conceded, “even if that is an absolutely horrible metaphor.”

“The kid knows things,” Shadow said, ignoring him. “You'll just have to get used to it, Blondie.”

It was almost funny how quickly Legend's expression went sour. Ravio had to give him a stern look to keep him from saying something insulting.

On the other hand, Shadow didn't show any signs of pleasure at successfully annoying him. His cap, which was normally very expressive, didn't curl or even twitch. Instead, it hung limply from his head. He must've been more depressed than he thought, Ravio realized with a pang.

“Look, Shadow, I’m-” Ravio started.

“Don't apologize,” he interrupted sharply. “I didn't come here to talk about myself. Or you, for the matter.”

Ravio wrinkled his nose, taken aback. “Care to tell us what you did come here to talk about?”

“Nothing,” the darkling responded curtly. He reached into the shadows and said, “Frankly, I'd rather not be here at all. But Saria and Aurora send their best wishes, and I'm the poor guy who has to bring ‘em.”

With that, he gifted Ravio a rag, a canteen, and a bottle filled with a shimmering gold-colored elixir. Ravio accepted them, dipping his head towards Shadow. Thank them for me, would you?” he said.

Shadow's only answer was a flick of his cap as he turned and let himself be swallowed by darkness. He left behind a lingering sense of melancholy.

Legend seemed to sense it, too. “Just like him to dampen the mood and leave,” he muttered.

Ravio winced and pointed out, “That's not really fair.” He's suffering, just like the rest of us.

When he didn't respond, Ravio shook his head and placed his hand over the other's heart. “You need to rest,” he said gently. “Here, drink this.”

He placed the bottle of elixir that Saria had cooked up for him in his hand. Legend cast it a suspicious glance before uncorking and downing it in one go. He grimaced as it went down.

“Water?” Ravio offered.

Legend shook his head.

“Take some anyway,” he insisted.

Legend scoffed, but grabbed the canteen and took a long drink. “Anything else you want me to inhale?” he asked sarcastically.

“Nothing else,” Ravio answered simply.

“Good, ‘cause I-”

Suddenly, yet another coughing fit struck, this one particularly nasty. His throat must be so raw by now, after having this sickness tear at him for so long. Ravio wrung his hands anxiously as he worked through it. There wasn't anything he could do, and he had always hated hearing it.

Luckily, it didn't take long for the coughing to abate. Legend groaned weakly. Ravio found himself shifting closer and allowing the frail hero to lean on him.

“Are you alright?” he asked nervously.

“I'm fine, Rav, stop worrying about me,” he rasped. He pursed his torn and bitten lips and reached again for the water.

“Can I get you something to eat?”

“Ravio, really.”

Ravio bit his tongue. He couldn't help it! He was so worried- terrified, even- that his lover would do something rash to prove he was strong, or something noble and courageous like that. Heroes were prone to being stubborn idiots and getting themselves hurt because of it. Besides, fretting over these stupid heroes was one of the few things he was actually good at.

“Could you at least try to sleep for a couple more hours?” Ravio persisted.

Legend scowled. “Sleep is all I've been doing. Sleep during the day, sleep during the night, take an elixir, repeat.” He clenched his fists. “It's driving me insane. I want to do something, Rav.”

Ravio understood, he truly did. He just wished he'd stop being so obstinate about it. “If I take you for a walk after, would you do it?” he suggested.

Legend hesitated. He mulled that over in that frustratingly beautiful head of his, pretending not to care too much, but Ravio had seen how his ears had perked at the idea. He wasn't too surprised when Legend nodded.

Ravio wasted no time in gently pushing him back down into his bedroll and tucking him into his blankets. He doused the rag that Shadow had given him in water and wrung it out so it wasn't soggy. He placed the damp cloth on Legend's forehead. He didn't miss the tiny sigh of relief that slipped from his lips as it made contact with his burning skin.

“Hilda’s right, you know,” Legend said abruptly. “You shouldn't be starving yourself for my sake. Or keeping yourself awake all night.”

Ravio stiffened. Lolia! Why was everyone worried about him? Would he never escape?

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call irony,” announced a tiny Shadow in his head. He metaphorically swatted it away.

“I'm not going to explode if you get a snack or something,” Legend informed him.

Ravio shot him a flat look. “Thanks,” he remarked. “I feel better already.”

“Ravio, I mean it.”

“You're being just as sarcastic, Mister Hero.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I am not!”

“I already know you're not going to explode. That's sarcasm, Link.”

Legend rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if you don't take care of yourself, I'll make you,” he warned.

“Oh?” Ravio raised a brow. “And how will you do that?”

Legend smirked. With a devious glint in his eye eerily similar to Tetra’s own, he pounced. Ravio yelped as he was tackled from his seat and wrestled into the hero's bedding. He strained to free himself, but to no avail. He was startlingly strong, even when sick!

“Link, you're contagious!” he gasped.

“Should've thought about that during dinner last night,” he growled teasingly

“How was I supposed to kn- ACK!”

Ravio let out an involuntary and extremely undignified squeak as Legend poked a finger into his side. Sensing weakness, Legend continued to prod him mercilessly. Ravio squealed and squirmed but Legend refused to relent.

“Link! Stop it!” he giggled uncontrollably. “Let me go!”

Legend laughed at him! The audacity of that Hylian! He had half a mind to whack him with his own pillow.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” he panted. “I'll do it, just let me go!”

Legend let him wriggle free and stumble to his feet, grinning mischievously up at him. Ravio's face was red, but he tried to hide his embarrassment by pretending to dust off his robes.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mister Hero had the gall to say. “I'm sure Saria has something you can eat.”

Oh, Goddess, Saria! She had heard everything, hadn't she? Ravio groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“If you-” Legend began.

“Not a word out of you, Mister Hero,” Ravio chided. “You resorted to tickling to coerce me. How low the Hero of Legend has sunk!”

“Stop being dramatic,” he chuckled. “Now, scram. Eat some bread or something.”

“I'll have you know,” Ravio sniffed. “I am being as dramatic as the situation calls for.”

“Hey, I told you to get lost, didn't I? Go on, now. Shoo.” Legend waved his hands at him.

Ravio stuck his tongue out at him like they had when they were kids, bickering over trivial, meaningless things like the price of a hookshot or where to put Sheerow’s cage. It was almost unbelievable how dramatically things had evolved since then, yet some things were as familiar as ever. Goddess, he loved that man, even when he acted like a constipated raccoon with cacti for droppings. Maybe that's where he found the patience to turn around, approach Saria, and ask for one of the pastries she loves making. Her overjoyed expression almost made it worth the mortification of being teased about his husband.

When he returned, Legend was nestled in his blankets, curled into himself and snoring softly. Ravio found himself smiling as he brushed his pink-tinted locks from his lover's face.

He decided to eat the pastry. Legend deserved some sleep untormented by thoughts involving Ravio's own self-care.

It was the sweetest he'd had in a long time.

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phoneycam · 11 months

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Codywan but Hanahaki disease

I just remembered that i challenged myself to write shit and the randomiser just made me angstie with this one.

Y’all know how the disease work right? If not, here is the fanlore page to explain a little.

Resume: Obi-Wan is painfully remainded that he loves too much... in multiple ocasions.

1. Quinlan Vos

2. Satine

3. Cody

So!

There is this disease that is just kinda normalized by the galaxie. It’s normal to fall in love with someone you shouldn’t, everyone is beautiful and gorgeous in their own way you know? So there are clinics, doctors, specialized post-surgery treatments and things like that.

But for the Jedi it’s a delicate topic. For a jedi to have the hanahaki disease is rare and not always well recived. It’s a bit of a taboo subject let’s say.

A good amount of people think that they are incapable of getting this disease. Those who know are divided. Some think it shouldn’t be treated any different than any other medical condition, other that it’s a test from the force to prove padawans or to redirect them to the light side, and the most extreme think it’s a sign of the force that they are not destined to be part of the order.

So imagine the shitshow that unfolded when Obi-Wan, not even a padawan yet, was rushed to the healing halls after spitting a flower mide training.

This unruly and loud 11 year old youngling was having a harsh time with some rather rude bullies when he got to know a chaotic young padawan that kicked their asses. Quinlan Vos was with who he would get like house on fire. It didn’t took long for both of them to become an inseparable and terrifying duo.

Obi-Wan was a goner before even knowing what that meant. So after some time, Quinlan is gone on a mission with his master and Obi is missing him crazy while trying to train (and failing) and in one of his moments of like, recalibrating his breathing he hears some classmate.

“Surely he’s missing his boyfriend”

And it is like a whiplash of emotion just colliding. The frustration from the failing training session, shock from realizing something he didn’t wanted, shame and the rage directed to the other younglings, homesickness from Quinlans absense and just plain and suffocating fear.

He felt horrible, like he’d being punched in the stomach multiple times...

He wanted to vomit...

and he did.

It would take time for everything to go back to normal. After the surgery, Obi-Wan would start being more quiet and fearful, but when everybody kept avoiding him and yet the looks and whispers still followed him, that fearfullness became anger. Anger he would lash out at anyone who was close enough to make him snap and then escape.

He wouldn’t even get close to Quinlan for years. Only when he was back from certain kriffed up planet overbeaten by a useless civil-war did he brakedown to finally get a hug from a friend.

((I will explain Qui-Gon later if someone is interested ùwu7))

The second time it happens he was 16 and in another war infested planet.

Satine was insufferable. After getting separeted from his master, Obi-Wan was condemned to protect this blonde girl that seemed to enjoy getting in his nerves at any given moment, even when they were on a clear danger scene, calling him by several... innovative names, laughing when he tripped or just hitting him when she thought he said or did something stupid.

He was honestly starting to question if this misssion was worth his sanity when a bad encounter gets them to bond while hiding. They where both badly hurt and without any other option, were forced to truly depend on each other.

Over the rest of the year it would grow to become something more, but it wasn’t the time nor the place to let it flourish.

They had become important for the other in that certain way that would meet the needs of both of them at the moment. But they never got to become friends in the first place. So when the moment to split came, they both knew it wasn’t meant no matter how much it hurt. And it hurt.

Qui-Gon was silent during all the farewell. He wasn’t stupid, he knew something was up as soon as they had been reunited, so he wasn’t too surprised when the flowers came. They had barely left land when the cough started and by the time they where hitting lightspeed, Obi-Wan got send to the back of the ship where his master performed a highly clandestine surgery with the help of the medical droid.

When he wakes up after the surgery, Obi-Wan proceeds to pass the 5 stages of grief. Qui-Gon is nothing but patient through the hole process.

When his padawan tries to play dumb to himself, he just remaind him of the flowers. When he gets defensive, he just projects calm and serenity through the force. When the anxiety grows to much to the point to ask to please not to tell to the counsil about it, Qui-Gon promises to never tell a soul and when the inevitable brakedown comes in, he comms Quinlan to wait for them in the landing pad.

the fifth stage would take a long time to come. In fact, Qui-Gon wouldn’t even be alive to see it happen. It would be almost two decades and it would come in the form of a person.

It would be the start of the second year of war. Obi-Wan was putting an unhealthy amount of sugar on a cup of caff when he stopped himself at a realization. He didn’t like sugar on his caff, hell, he didn’t even licked caff! So why in the name of the force did he had it in his personal space??

“General?”

His commanders voice startles him. He turns around to be comfronted with a familiar sight. Cody was only using the bottom part of his armor, one hand resting on the bed he was currently sitting on and the other holding the datapad he was previusly compiling. A worried look acompagning his slowly not so relaxed position.

“Is everything ok sir?”

Oh.

Oh dear...

The realization would come... peacefully. Of course it would be Cody. His wonderfull commander had crowled into his heart slowly and deliberately without knowing. With the reasuring presence, strategic mind and dry humor, it was just logical that Obi-Wan would fall for him... Also because he couldn’t do anything about it. They are at war, he is his superior and he had a duty to fulfil.

The jedi took a deep breath when the familiar sensation starts to fill in, only this time, he doesn’t panic and run to the madical hall. No, this time is different. This time he isn’t overcome with anything if not acceptance.

This is his commander, who he loves dearly and can’t do anything about it.

So, with a reassuring tone and adoring smile, he responds.

“It’s nothing my dear, just questioning myself about the amount of sugar I see you consume”

Cody watches him closely for a couple seconds before smirking. They both know he is lying but this is not the time to talk about it.

“Sure sir, don’t you worry about it. It’s what keeps my sweet personality alive, other wise it would be crush by tha amount of useless paperwork we are given”

Obi-Wan just chuckles covering a discrete cough and turns to finish their drinks.

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