#anyways.... go stream build a problem

[blockgamepirate]

This is my petty complaint time, this video annoys me SO MUCH and even more so what annoys me is that the latest comment on it is this:

HE TAUGHT YOU SO MUCH BULLSHIT, PLEASE NO, DON'T LISTEN TO HIM

And yes, I've been thinking about this stream for nearly three years now, I've been meaning to go through it to critique Wilbur's arguments, I just never got around to it

Wilbur: "Tubbo, you've created an anti-state capitalist dystopia"

So all Tubbo had explained so far was that his town had a big company that owned two other big companies. Nothing about the government or anything. It's true that one company owning all the major businesses is pretty dystopian, sure, but I have no idea where Wilbur got the "anti-state" thing from, usually capitalist companies are fine with the existence of states, states do a lot of dirty work for the capitalists

Spoiler alert: Tubbo's city turns out to be pretty much a city state so Wilbur is just wrong anyway, not that he ever acknowledges it even when it does come up

Also it's not like corporate acquisitions are completely unheard of in the UK, as far as I know. Admittedly the UK is also arguably a capitalist dystopia but you know what I mean, the concept shouldn't be all that shocking to Wilbur

He's being so dramatic and trying to make it sound like he's caught Tubbo in a mistake or something. He also keeps asking questions and then not letting Tubbo answer properly before taking like one word Tubbo says and running with it

But this is the one that I find the most obnoxious:

T: "I did some research into like economics and stuff and I discovered this thing called UBI, have you heard of it?"

W: "What's it stand for?"

T: "Universal Basic Income"

W: "Yeah, I know about that"

He clearly does not know what UBI is.

It becomes very apparent very quickly:

W: "So you've got universal basic income but then also the rich exist still?"

T: "Yeah! Yeah they do."

W: "How does that come about then,"

T: "So in my mind--"

W: "is this universal basic income different for different people?"

T: "No, no, the universal basic income is better for everyone, just the people who have--"

W: "In order for there to be a 1% that means someone's earning more,"

T: "Yes, someone is earning more"

W: "but that means the universal basic income isn't universal!"

T: "No no no, not everyone's getting paid the same but everyone gets the same to begin with, okay? But then you can build on top of it."

W: "Oh no, you've got a-- Tubbo, you've got a fucking social point system!"

T: "Have I made a social point system??"

W: "Tubbo, you've made China!"

None of what Wilbur says makes ANY sense here. The only explanation I can think of is that he didn't know what UBI was, made an assumption that it just meant "everybody gets paid the same amount of money" or something like that and then just spoke fast enough that Tubbo couldn't correct him

Tubbo is correct here, Tubbo knows what he's talking about, but he can't out-speak Wilbur who is just throwing so much bullshit out of his mouth that there's no time to even respond

So, UBI means that everyone in the society gets a regular payment of a specific amount of money that's the same for everyone regardless of their life situation (and generally a requirement would be that it has to be enough to live on, altho people do like to water this down a lot...) This would be completely irrelevant to your wages or salary or capital gains. You can choose to either live on the UBI or you can just do the regular capitalist things to earn extra money on top of the UBI

Obviously I'm not one of those people who think that UBI would solve all of world's problems, I mean I am an anarchist and all (and not an ancap either), but it's literally just a very streamlined welfare system. That's all. It would probably be a lot better than the current models we have but it's not fundamentally different. There's nothing particularly weird about it, the point is just to make sure that everyone has enough money to live on, in every other regard it's just normal capitalism

Wilbur completely misunderstands the whole thing (because, again, he does not know what UBI is so he's just trying to imagine what it might mean based on what Tubbo is saying) and jumps immediately to something he apparently has heard of, which is the Chinese social credit system, which has nothing to do with UBI. In fact I'm pretty sure it also doesn't actually have anything to do with income either, or at least not directly, so I don't think Wilbur knows what the social credit system is either

He's literally just talking in buzzwords

Like if you actually wanted to make a leftist critique of Tubbo's city, you could, don't get me wrong. But instead Wilbur keeps insisting that he's made a social point system despite Tubbo trying to explain why it's not that at all

Wilbur just keeps yelling over Tubbo until his own chat turns against him and finally Tubbo himself also kinda gives up

And from there Tubbo also kinda just starts playing into the bit and just lets Wilbur direct the whole conversation, the rest of it is just them getting more and more into the roleplay. Wilbur keeps talking about the state pension plan, even though Tubbo already tried to explain that it's part of the UBI (this actually is how UBI is supposed to work, it does indeed streamline most of the welfare spending! Obviously you can still raise questions about that (I can think of a few at least) but Wilbur didn't let Tubbo explain so I have no idea what Tubbo actually had in mind)

I could try to go through all of what Wilbur says here but it's just too much, so maybe some other time. Although to be honest there are so many other streams that I probably should talk about instead that some fans unfortunately took a bit too seriously because they assumed Wilbur knew what he was talking about

My point here is mainly that just because someone sounds really confident and knows a bunch of buzzwords doesn't mean they know what they're talking about.

[notscarsafe]

OKAY SO what with the TWO new Hermits implied by the updated banner I will say that, though the Skizz truthers have me convinced, I now have room to do my own crazy red string monologue and throw my hat in for my choice

1) Mythical J. Sausage (the J is silent) is a multitalented S-tier builder that absolutely deserves to be shoulder to shoulder with the Hermits. The man does buildings, interiors, terraforming, custom trees, and he does them SO WELL.

2) The production values!!! Beautiful replay mod sequences with shifting camera perspectives, shaders, music that sets the tone for each segment that's different from series to series. He already has more than a million followers on YouTube and for good reason!!

3) He has been SO consistent lately. He started a hardcore world about three months ago (about the time you might expect the Hermits to finalize their s10 choices maybe...???) and already has 15 episodes and hasn't gotten involved in any other big content. (He did just start playing a little of the BCG server but from what I understand that's super casual /copium copium copium).

4) That hardcore world is conveniently about to reach a good "pause" point. He started his world on a cherry blossom biome island that he's filled with a medieval village and starter farms, he's said it's almost full and what's left is the castle. I'm guessing the new season will start the first week of February, so if Sausage puts out a video this week building out that Castle and finishing that island it will be MIGHTY CONVENIENT TIMING.

5) This man can GRIND. His Hardcore world hasn't even been going half a year and he's built... So much??? Magnificent! And when he was on the Hermitcraft server he did the Razorcrest for scar AND the player head baby yoda/stormtrooper merch AND the noteblock themesong AND still built in the xmas village and other "diamond of peace" and so many other shenanigans. Did the man even sleep? He can grind with the best of them.

6) He can do redstone, too! Maybe not unique designs, I honestly don't know, but he builds farms for build materials no problem.

7) The DRAMA this man loves his improv and his backstory and trauma lore! For every series he does! Can you imagine if he gets to interact with Ren for an extended period of time, what that would do to them, to us?? Give Martyn a run for his money!!

8) Which brings me to my next point, which is that Sausage is already One of The Gang, because he's been in series with so many of the Hermits already! Empires and the crossover, obviously, but also Pirates with Cleo and Origins with Scar, and he's even done MCC! Joel is the only other player with the same depth of different series but there are other people truthing him already.

9) The EPIC BROMANCE with Pearl. My god the devotion of this man to his sunflower goddess bestie. I would try to do ot justice but y'all have seen floweroflaurelins work, you already know.

10) He's already a PG streamer but with HILARIOUSLY PG-13 tendencies. Imagine him and Cleo cracking each other up at an HHH stream, *grips your shoulders* IMAGINE IT.

11) Sausage comes with his own mascot in the form of interdimensional dog extraordinaire Bubbles, but he's also just an animal lover on general. Mans drinks his "I love Jellie" juice and had her in his world even before the sad news of her loss.

12) Diversity win! No one should be hired just for their gender, race, sexuality etc etc unless it's truly necessary to the job, but we were all happy when more women got added to the server in s8 and I know a lot of people would be happy to see some ethnic diversity added, too.

... That bulletin board had a lot more pins in it than I thought it did but anyway MYTHICALSAUSAGE TRUTHERS/ALL OTHER TRUTHERS RISE UP SPEAK YOUR TRUTH! we'll only get to wildly speculate for a few weeks so we might as well make it everyone else's problem ENJOY IT TO THE FULLEST!!

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT with a reader who would literally get into a fist fight for them?? Literally, if someone even looks at them wrong reader will throw hands. It's literally that meme (Random person) "GET YO FUCKING DOG BITCH" (MCYT) "it don't bite" "YES IT FUCKIN DO-" I'm sorry I'm feeling silly 😔

OH MY FUCKING GOD I LOVE THIS PROMPT AND THE REFERENCE TO THIS MEME LMFAOOO OH MY LORD BSHWJRHEJJAJW ; very vine oriented so I apologize. you threw me into a loop referencing that

MCYT ; "anytime, anywhere, I'd beat a bitches ass for you"

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, slimecicle, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, talk of blood/injuries, physical fighting, vine cringe because I got very carried away and you can tell

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he was one of those kids in high school that made light offensive jokes but would never fight anyone over anything, he's not a violent person at all other than in his jokes

but God forbid some random person look at you two weird in public, you're on their ass

you're more offended that they were judging Tommy at all, you couldn't care that they were judging you

"sorry, do you have a problem?" You squint your eyes at the person, "me and my boyfriend are just trying to shop and you keep following us around and staring, like, can I help you?"

just a teenage Karen

yall do take it outside when the motherfucker follows you out and begins to record you

you beat this fuckers ass to a PULP

Tommy's just holding the few bags of stuff you'd purchased staring down, jaw on the fucking floor like "Oh my God wtf do I do"

he had the vlog camera on so he kinda got it all on video before he pulled you away from the person

yall sprinted the hell away bc the security guards were running towards yall 😭😭

#neveridentified

#the person admitted guilt anyways and said they were planning to hurt you so no point in trying to track yall down for self defense

#i barely know the law shush

RANBOO

they just kind of accepted that you were like this

"I do not endorse violence unless you are y/n. I can't make them un-violent. I have tried, they're a vicious guard dog now"

hurricane Katrina? more like hurricane tortilla when you enter the building

yk the free style dance teacher vine? that'll be ranboo out in public and someone will stare at them all weird and you'll glare back

"walk away, walk away" you mumble, watching the person hurrily walk away as they see you like glaring daggers into their skull

your dynamic is the one vine that's like "Oh can I have a sip of your water?" and "It's not water or vodka, it's vinegar" "bitch what"

then you'll go make angsty edge lord posts to the one bojack horseman audio "I'm not a violent dog" and insert a clip of you beating the shit out of someone in high school

FREDDIE BADLINU

you post the "look at all those chickens" vine on your Twitter everytime you see a hate comment made for one of you

you love instigating fights w people online it's the funniest fucking thing

if you don't know how to reply to some dumbass edgelord response you'll just spam the guacamole vine until they shut up

"wait, why does y/n have so many soaps?"

"MIND YOUR FUCKIN BUISNESS DAVID"

Freddie's response to your violence is usually the saxophone seal vine. he genuinely laughs everytime he sees you fighting w someone online

sometimes you'll stream it while you wait for a response and while you're fighting online trolls who've been brainwashed by Twitter

"You're gay?!?!?!?11??11"

insert the "ms keisha dead" vine and the battle is over idk what to say

fight fire with fire I guess

NIKI NIHACHU

she hates yet loves that you'd fight ppl for her

oh, someone treated her wrong? you'll be trending on Twitter for fighting the person

#y/u/n will literally be at number 1 for a week

people edit the fight too

she appreciates it though, even though she doesn't exactly like to promote violence, she'll accept it from you

"Oh, don't worry about them, they're just a little... nervous around people sometimes"

"nervous? girl that mf is SNARLING at me"

you'll see a post that's like "me when someone tries to start shit w my s/o" and reply with the "hahaha I do that" vine

when I tell you she CACKLES reading online fights with people 😭🙏

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

"get the F off my yard!" proceeds to have to drag you away from situations where someone's actin a little funny in a /neg way

he genuinely thinks you fighting people for him is funny

he'll tell the stories on stream and to his friends like "dude they fucked this guy up, I honestly feel bad for laughing"

honestly most the time it's people victimizing themselves

like that one meme where the lady very obviously and fakely falls over that bench on LIVE TELEVISION.

he's your biggest supporter

he's the old guy from that one vine of the kid singing "Oh wait a minute mister postman" and he does the whole ass high note

"here's y/n fighting someone for idk what because they're talking to the police 😋"

you're a problem at this point

QUACKITY

you've physically fought so many wild racists for him it's crazy

he'll gladly cheer you on

"AHHHH COME GET YO DOG BRO HELP"

"Oh it don't bite"

you proceed to bite the bitch

online fights are usually responded w the purple teletubby twerking meme

"L don't be a weak ass racist pussy next time"

you fight Logan Paul for some reason??? Twitter drama mostly

don't worry quackitys there to watch

17-3 don't worry... ehehehrhahahha

when he tells you that you need to stop instigating fights you send him the "They ask you how you are but you just have to say that you're fine when you're not really fine" meme BAHDNHAHA

FOOLISH GAMERS

"YOU KNOW WHAT DUDE? IM OUTTA HERE" vine in a nutshell with you two. I can't explain this but it makes sense I swear

"whatd you do to your eyebrows?" meme except its "Whyd you fight that person!?" "I don't really know!"

Twitter fights are like "and they were roommates!" "ohmygodtheywereroomates" I swear to fucking god

you love instigating shit with Twitter trolls

when you stand up for him/reply to edgelord haters for him he replies with the "country boy I love youuuuuuu" vine

"GIVE ME YOUR FUCKIN MONEY!" vine with the law and order intro is literallt how physical fights go

let's just say some stalker edgelords tracked you guys down at the streamer awards...

HE AND PUNZ GENUINLEY CHEER YOU ON

here you go trending on Twitter again

[mariclerc]

Cute boy next door | cl16

Summary: your little one can't sleep at night thanks to the noise from your loud neighbor.

Warning: latina!hispanic reader, streamer charles (i miss him A LOT) and fluff.

Part 2

A hallway with sleek, modern doors lining either side, the soft glow of moonlight filters through the window at the end. You stand outside one of the doors, biting your lip nervously... You hold a three-year old little girl named Lola in your arms; Lola is rubbing her eyes sleepily while she holds a stuffed animal in her little hands.

“Okay, y/n... you can do this! It's just a noise complaint and Lola needs to sleep.” you whisper to yourself.

You raise a fist to knock on the door, for a moment you doubt it, but you do it anyway.

The door swings open to reveal a handsome young man in a fitted t-shirt and sweatpants. He has a pair of glasses on and a bandana tied loosely around his forehead, he looks a little bit surprised.

“Uh... hi? Can I help you?” he asks softly.

You swallow a little bit. “Um, hola... hi... Excuse me for bothering you... I live next door, and, well...” You look down at Lola in your arms, who whimpers softly. “I don't know if you were playing loud music or something earlier? But, my little girl Lola can't sleep.” you say softly.

Charles's eyes widen in realization, he blushes slightly and rubs the back of his neck. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I was just... streaming while playing on the simulator a bit... I didn't realize it would be so loud.” He says with sorrow in his voice.

“It's alright, don't worry too much about it.” you say shyly. “This is all new to us, we just moved here from Miami a few months ago.”

He opened his eyes in surprise and smiled.

“From Miami? Wow, that's a big change! I bet it's quite an adjustment.” He says. “Are you hispanic?” he asked softly and you nod proudly of your roots.

“Si señor, now you have two latina friends on the other side of your wall.” you say giggling. “And yes... It is quite the adjustment, especially for Lola, since she misses her abuelos terribly.” (yes sir) (grandparents)

Charles smiles warmly at the both of you, he looks so friendly and there's a pretty familiar and warm vibe about him, but you can't quite figure it out yet.

“Well, I'm Charles, by the way. Welcome to the building! It's nice to meet you both.” He says and you smile warmly.

“Nice to meet you, Charles.” you say shyly and you quickly look away. “Well, I don't want to interrupt your night of fun but it was a pleasure and thanks again.”

He smiles genuinely. “It's no problem at all, and if Lola wakes up again, don't hesitate to knock on my door... Maybe we can have coffee sometime?” He asked, there is a slight blush on his cheeks and you nod and blushed a little too.

“Coffee sounds lovely. Thank you for the offer, but, we wouldn't want to intrude though...” you were saying but he gently interrupted you.

“Not at all! Trust me, a little company is a welcome change from the roar of a Formula One engine... Besides, maybe you can teach me some Spanish, my language skills are a bit rusty.” he says quite blushing.

You blush at his words, is that a slight flirtation or is it just your head making things up? Be that as it may, you smile tenderly at him.

“That sounds good, i'm sure Lola and I would be happy to help! Alright, Charles, we'll take you up on that coffee offer then.” you say and he smiles shyly.

Charles beams. “Great! Just let me know when... Here's my phone, you can write your number there!” He says, extending his hand to give you his cell phone and you do the same.

You write your number and schedule yourself as: "y/n the latina neighbor 🤍" He writes down his number on your cell phone and books himself as: "Charlie the nice neighbor ❤️" you smile tenderly when you see the red heart next to it.

“Well, I should go to my apartment... Good night Charles and thank you again... For understanding.” You say sweetly and he smiles, showing off his dimples. "dios que lindo luce con sus hoyuelos" you think while looking at him. (God how cute he looks with his dimples)

He smiles widely. “It's no big deal y/n! Have a good night you two, sweet dreams.” he says softly and smiles.

You smile back and walk into your apartment, feeling something strange and cozy in your chest. You place Lola on her bed and give her a little kiss on her forehead, meanwhile, your head won't stop thinking about the cute, handsome neighbor next door and you're sure that his shy smile will probably stay stuck in your head for days and weeks.

***

“Si mami Lola y yo estamos bien” You say while talking on the phone with your mom. “Y no, todavía no he ido a tomar café con el lindo vecino, mamá por dios! Que preguntas.” You say a little excited, Lola giggles at your reaction. (yes mommy Lola and I are fine) (and no, I still haven't gone to have coffee with the cute neighbor, mom for God's sake! What do you ask)

You were talking to your mom on the phone, what you told your mom was a "little white lie", since you were finishing getting ready to go to your coffee and dessert date with Charles and Lola, who was already dressed and looked like a cute little princess. You and Charles had been talking for several weeks by text and so on, he even sometimes stopped by your apartment before going to his, Lola likes his company, it's very fun for you to see the two of them interact. While you finish putting some of Lola's things in your bag, the door rings.

“Mami te llamo luego, sí? Te quiero mucho, bendición!” You say hanging up the call as you walk to the door. (Mommy, I'll call you later, okay? I love you so much, blessing!)

When you open the door you find a smiling Charles holding a bouquet of lilies, he was wearing his glasses and was dressed very casually but a little elegant at the same time, Lola came up behind you and smiled when she saw Charles.

“Hello there, señoritas! Ready for our afternoon of coffee and good desserts?” He says and you smile when you hear him speak Spanish, even if it's just a little bit. “These are for you y/n! I hope you like them, I think they are pretty just like you.” He says in a whisper and you blush when you hear his words. (ladies)

You take the bouquet of lilies from his hands and smile at his cute but meaningful gesture.

“Hello Charlie! Aww, you didn't have to do it.” You say as you place the bouquet in a vase, Lola looks at the bouquet curiously. “Mira mi amor, son unas flores muy lindas, no lo crees?” you say softly to Lola and she smiles. (Look my love, they are very pretty flowers, don't you think?)

“Flores! Dindas!” Lola says happy (flowers! cute!)

Charles smiles as he sees you two speaking in Spanish, a warm and cozy feeling is present in his chest.

“I guess you both liked the flowers!” He says smiling and with his cheeks red. “So let's go? Those desserts await us!” He says quite enthusiastically and Lola giggles, you close the door to your apartment and walk with them down the hallway.

He linked his arm with yours and you carried Lola with your other arm, to be honest, it looked like an image straight out of a movie, but that made you happy.

***

The three of you sat at a table a little far away from the crowd, but it had a nice view. You ordered an espresso and a pain au chocolat, you also ordered the same thing for Lola, only instead of the espresso you ordered her a strawberry milkshake in children's size. And Charles ordered a cappuccino with a small strawberry pie.

Charles's company was quite nice and comfortable, it was as if there had always been a place for him in yours and Lola's life and also a place for the two of you in his.

He looks at Lola while she drinks her milkshake and smiles. “Lola looks so pretty and cute!” He says as he strokes Lola's hair and she smiles. “You know? From what little I have seen I can say that you are a really good mom.” He says in a whisper and you smile slightly.

You look at him, finishing your pain au chocolat and feeding Lola with hers. “Thank you... Sometimes it's hard, especially when it's just the two of us, this thing about being a mother and father at the same time is... Complicated, but satisfying in a way.” You say as you let out a light sigh.

“I wouldn't want to bother you with this, but... Why did you move here? You two alone, venturing to the other side of the world.” He asks softly, he doesn't want to invade your privacy or bother you.

You nod shyly. “Well... It was something complicated for both of us back in Miami, but I think it has been worth it so far.” you say while you look at Lola and you look back at him. “You see, her "dad" didn't want kids and his most logical solution was to leave me after four years together, to be honest my father almost killed him...” You say and let out a small chuckle. “I had an apartment and I lived there while I was pregnant, after having Lola my ex wanted to come back and threatened me multiple times, which is not very nice as a first-time mother.” You sighed. “When Lola was 6 months old I decided to return to my parents' house.” you say looking at your little girl. “Ese desgraciado maldito.” You mumbled in spanish. “We decided to move here because I got a good job offer as a freelancer in a good business here... and to escape from my ex's harassment, to be honest.” you giggled shyly. (that damned bastard)

He looked at you in shock, he never thought someone could do something like that. “Oh, I'm so sorry that happened to you.” he said softly. “But you two are so amazing and cool! And, well, it's his loss at the end of the day.” He says and you smile a little.

“You couldn't have said it better Charles.”

Lola smiles and stretches her little hands towards Charles's strawberry pie, he smiles as he sees her stretch out her little hands towards him.

“Fresas!” Lola says animated and happy. (strawberries!)

“Mi cielo pero si acabaste de comer tu pain au chocolat! Let Charlie eat his pie, okay?” You say a little blushing at the almost embarrassing moment that Lola puts you through. (My dear but you just ate your pain au chocolat)

Charles giggled at Lola's antics and your words. “You know, it's okay! I have no problem giving you guys some of the pie... At the end of the day, it is to share with you!” he smiles and blushed.

Then he cut a little of the pie into three equal pieces for the three of you, you just smile at his cute gesture towards the two of you, Lola smiles and takes her spoon to start eating the piece of pie, she looks very happy while eating the delicious dessert, you took a spoonful and the sweet and fresh taste of the strawberries invaded your mouth, you closed your eyes happily, savoring the pie. Charles smiled when he saw your reaction, he thought it was super cute and sweet.

Between the two of you you've shared a few glances while talking about totally mundane and simple things, even though he may have all the money in the world for you he's a pretty down to earth guy and you appreciate that.

***

After having gone to a small park where Lola played a lot on slides and trampolines, the three of you went back to the building with satisfied and somewhat tired smiles on your faces.

“Come here my honey, let me carry you, okay?” You tell Lola as you try to pick her up, but she refuses. “Oh, don't you want me to carry you inside?” you ask her softly.

She looked at the green-eyed boy who was standing next to you with a smile on his face. “Chaaa! 'ould you carry me? Pweasee...” she said and Charles looked at you as if asking your permission to do so, you just nodded at him.

“Can I?” he asked shyly and you nod again.

“Yup, you can carry her inside. I don't have a problem with that.” you said timidly and he approached you to bend down and take Lola in his arms and walk into the building.

For you it was a super cute image, it was as if it had happened before, as if all the pieces fit together, as if he were the missing piece of the puzzle. You smiled as you walked a few steps behind them, you had a strange feeling in your chest, a feeling of belonging, something you hadn't felt in recent months and in the last three years, Lola looked quite comfortable in the green-eyed man's arms while they talked about... You don't know, maybe they talk about superheroes or princesses? You have no idea, but the smile on your girl's face is inexplicable.

When you reach your apartment floor he lowers Lola to the ground, but she didn't want to get out of his arms.

“Noooo, I don't wanna go in!” Lola says, hiding her face on his shoulder.

You unlock the door, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe she wants a piggyback ride all the way in?” You say, letting out a small giggle and he blushes.

Charles turns, a playful glint in his eyes. “Is that true, little princess? Well, hold on tight, we have an adventure.” he whispers softly at Lola and she had a bright smile.

He ducks through the doorway, carrying a giggling Lola into your apartment. You follow, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest. The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and Charles carefully navigates the small hallway, Lola clinging to his back like a happy koala, you can't help but laugh as you watch them.

“Alright, superhero princess, your chambers await!” you say towards Lola.

Lola throws her head back and lets out a peal of laughter. Charles reaches her bedroom door, a hint of shyness creeping into his smile. “Is this the secret superhero lair?”

Lola nods vigorously. “Yes! But, shh, it's a secret, 'kay?”

You smile at your little girl. “Our little secret, superhero. Now, how about we get you out of your superhero suit? Bed time awaits.”

You reach out and gently take Lola's hand, ready to help her down. But Lola hesitates, her eyes flickering between you and Charles.

“Can Charl tuck me in tonight, Mommy?” she asked softly.

The unexpected request catches you off guard. A warmth spreads through your chest, a surprising mix of shyness and something deeper. You glance at Charles, his gaze warm and understanding.

“Would you like that, y/n?” You meet his eyes, a silent question hanging in the air. Would it be okay? Would it be crossing a line? Charles seems to sense your hesitation. “Of course, it's entirely up to you... Just thought maybe it would be nice for Lola to have a superhero story for bedtime.” he smiles reassuringly.

You look back at Lola, her eyes pleading with a hope you can't deny. Maybe, you think, just this once.

“Alright, superhero. But only because you saved the day from tantrums.” you say while smiling softly.

Lola's face breaks into a wide grin. “Yay! Thank you, Charl! Thank you, Mami!”

You help Charles lower Lola to the floor, watching as he scoops her up again into a hug. A comfortable silence settles between you as he walks towards the room, the warmth of his presence lingering in the air.

***

Charles stands by the bed, holding a squirming Lola as you pull out a pair of fluffy pajamas decorated with stars. You manage to wrestle her arms into the sleeves, Charles chuckling as Lola tries to escape.

“Alright, superhero princess, time to transform back into your regular self!” you say smiling.

Lola lets out a dramatic sigh, then allows herself to be pulled into the soft fabric. Charles gently helps with the buttons, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. A spark of electricity shoots up your arm, making you blush.

“There you go, little superhero. All ready for your mission to dreamland!” he smiled gently at Lola.

Lola snuggles into the bed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But before I go, I need story! About a princess! Superhero!” she giggles softly.

You exchange a glance with Charles. “Well, how about we make one up together? Let's see, uhm... Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a brave princess named...” you chuckled.

You pause, looking at Charles for inspiration. He shrugs playfully. “Hmmm... Princess Lola! The bravest, strongest princess in the whole kingdom... But even princesses have problems sometimes, right Lola?”

Lola nods vigorously, sucking her thumb thoughtfully.

“One day, a terrible monster called Bedtime snuck into the kingdom! It made everyone feel sleepy and grumpy, and wouldn't let them have any fun!”

Lola gasps, her eyes wide. You continue, weaving a tale of Princess Lola's bravery as she confronts the monster Bedtime. Charles adds details, giving the monster a ticklish weakness and Princess Lola a magical cape that grants her super snuggles.

As the story unfolds, the tension in the room gradually melts away. Warm light bathes the room from a bedside lamp, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Lola's eyelids begin to droop, her thumb slipping out of her mouth.

With a flourish, you reach the climax. Princess Lola defeats the monster Bedtime with a flurry of super snuggles, restoring peace and good sleep to the kingdom.

“And so, Princess Lola learned that even the bravest heroes need their rest. Sweet dreams, little one.” he whispered softly.

Lola yawns, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

“Thank you, superhero... Charl... Night night mama!” she mumbles drowsily.

“Buenas noches mi niña... Have sweet dreams! I love you so much!” You whisper and give her a kiss on her forehead. (good night my girl)

Her eyes flutter shut, and her breathing slows to a gentle rhythm. You and Charles exchange a tired smile.

“Looks like our superhero princess is out for the night.” you whispered at him.

Charles nods, his gaze lingering on Lola's peaceful face. A comfortable silence settles between you, filled with a sense of shared accomplishment.

The silence stretches after Lola drifts off to sleep, a comfortable quiet that feels different from the usual solitude of evenings. Lola's soft breaths filled the space, a gentle counterpoint to the sudden tension between you and Charles. His gaze flickers from your daughter's sleeping form to your face, his eyes holding a warmth that sends shivers down your spine, a newfound appreciation for this unexpected moment.

There's a beat of silence, thick with unspoken emotions. You clear your throat, about to suggest to head out of her room, when Charles speaks, his voice barely a whisper.

“She's incredible, isn't she?”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “She really is...” you say softly.

He takes a step closer, his presence filling the space beside you. You can smell his cologne, a now familiar scent that makes your heart beat faster.

“Thank you for letting me be a part of this... For letting me be a part of both of your lives this few weeks.”

His words hang in the air, a silent confession of his growing feelings. You meet his gaze, your own filled with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper.

“Thank you for being here, Charles.” you say with your voice barely above a whisper.

The distance between you shrinks further. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray hair from your cheek. His touch sends a jolt through you, a rush of electricity that makes your breath catch.

Charles leans in slowly, his eyes searching yours, you don't pull away... Instead, you find yourself leaning in too, drawn to him by a force you can't explain.

The kiss is soft, a gentle exploration at first. His lips are warm and tender, sending shivers down your spine. It's a kiss filled with unspoken emotions: gratitude, affection, and, you might say, a little hint of something more.

You pull back slightly, your cheeks flushed. Charles's eyes hold a question, a silent plea for permission. You hesitate for a moment, then a small smile graces your lips.

“Maybe she doesn't need to be the only one with a superhero story tonight...” you whisper as a shy smile graces your face.

The air crackles with unspoken possibilities. Charles's smile widens, his eyes shining with a newfound joy. He leans back in, and the kiss deepens a little bit, filled with a passion you haven't felt in a long long time. You smile halfway through the kiss and in a rather cliché way, you feel content and happy with everything that is happening in your life since perhaps this was what you needed. A breath of fresh air in your life and in Lola's.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 1

I am finally ready to show you all the Sugar Baby!Steve/Sugar Daddy!Eddie fic I've been working on. I'm not sure how long it will go, but Steve's going to go on a journey with this one.

But I feel I need to go into the title of this fic a bit, because I feel it’s important to talk about before starting the story.

The Caged Bird Still Sings, because they are well taken care of and has every need met. They will never starve, or thirst or get too hot or cold, they will be cared for if sick or injured. The only price is the cage.

It’s like that owl that got released from that zoo by well-meaning ‘animal advocates’ that died by flying into a high rise building. If it had still been in the zoo it would have lived for another thirty years.

So in this story Steve starts off thinking that Eddie’s love and attention is only temporary and is actively trying to get a job, make money of his own, and move out and away from needing Eddie’s money and gifts to survive so that they can be on more even footing.

But as the story goes on and he can’t get work and he meets Robin, he slips into this melancholy for awhile thinking that if he wants to continue living like this there has to be some sort of trade and thinks it’s about sex.

Which is why Eddie refuses to have sex with him during that time. He wants them to be couple and knows that Steve isn’t there yet.

It’s only at the end when Steve realizes this isn’t temporary, that Eddie isn’t just trying to buy sex from him, that he settles into being taken care of. By Robin, by Eddie, by the rest of the band. Not because they don’t think he can take care of himself but because they love him.

There will be only two sex scenes in this. Once at the beginning before the Arrangement, and once at the end when they are both on the same page and they consummate their relationship.

If you think this isn’t your cup of tea, no problem. Let me know in the comments, tags, DMs, or even asks (I’ll answer privately) and I’ll take you off the list. I already have one that has told me upfront that they aren’t interested and won’t be tagged.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story.

~

Steve sat in his Bimmer, head hung low between his shoulders, tears streaming down his face. Everything he owned was in the trunk and backseat of the car. It was his car. The title had been signed over to him when he turned eighteen.

He was still wearing the stupid little green vest and name tag that bore the name Family Video. A place he no longer worked. He’d have to return them to the store in the morning, but for now, it created the illusion of still being employed.

When he woke up yesterday morning, he had three things; a home, a job, and a boyfriend. And now he didn’t have any of that shit.

All because last night his parents came home to find him and Tommy on the sofa with their hands in each other’s pants. Leaving no doubt about what they were doing.

They kicked Steve out mere minutes after Tommy fled, his father screaming that he wouldn’t have a dirty whoring fag in his house. All while his mother cried about losing her baby to those ‘horrid queers’.

Steve had called around to his friends looking for a place to spend the night, but they were all too afraid of his dad. His father roared with laughter each time a friend turned him down.

“They don’t want a dirty fag in their house either,” he said with a sneer as Steve hung up on his last hope.

“Now get the hell out of my house.”

Steve did as he was told and spent the night in his car in the parking of Family Video. When it came time to open the store, he grabbed his clothes and work vest and got changed in the bathroom.

By noon, his life was over. Keith had sat him down in his office and told him that due to morality clause that Steve had violated, he would no longer be working at Family Video. He handed Steve his last check and told him he had to return the vest cleaned with his badge by tomorrow or he would be forced to pay for them.

Steve cashed the check. It wasn’t much as it was only the beginning of the new pay period and he had barely worked eight hours before he had been fired.

He had some money in his savings account, another thing that had been signed over to him when he turned eighteen. But not enough for a hotel. So he went to the bank and closed out the account. All total it was only fifty bucks. That might get him a night at a cheap motel, but nothing past that. He would be homeless, penniless, and friendless if he tried.

But there was another way to get a warm place to stay at least for the night without spending everything he had.

He got dressed up in the sluttiest outfit he had. He pulled on tight leather black pants and yellow shirt that barely grazed the top of his belly button. He put on a little eyeliner and mascara, then he added strawberry lip balm to make his lips pop.

Steve opened his wallet and pulled out his fake ID. The one he got when he was sixteen off his cousin.

They looked close enough to be brothers and Scott was easy to change to Steve and ta da! He put it in front of his actual ID and drove out to the Hideout.

He parked far enough away from the bar so people wouldn’t see all his stuff in the back and then walked up to the line. He was so focused on getting in that he missed all the signs.

The lack of variety in clothes from those in the line, the bouncer asking for a high cover charge, higher than normal, and the most glaring? The great big fucking stage setup with the huge ass banner that said in bold fucking letters: CORRODED COFFIN.

Nope, it took getting a seat at the bar and the bartender straight up asking if his girlfriend was a fan of the band before Steve realized his error.

He was a prep surrounded by metal fans all there to see Corroded Coffin. Steve was familiar with them. But then again you had to be dead not to know the name of the biggest band to make out of Hawkins, metal fan or not.

Eddie Munson was older than Steve by a decade, so he was only ten when the older man took his band to LA and made it big. Which if you had listened to any of his teachers or even just anyone over forty at the time for longer than two seconds they would rant about how they never thought he would amount to anything. That making music was a pipe dream and to just accept taking his uncle’s place at the manufacturing plant on the outside of town.

He also knew that they made sure to stop and play here at the Hideout every time they did any American tour just to fuck with those assholes.

So he had really picked the worst night to have his life completely fucked over enough for him to even think about coming here to get laid. Because chances were, he wasn’t gonna. He just hoped that someone took pity on him enough to buy him his drinks so that he could shit-faced enough to endure sleeping rough again.

He ordered a dirty martini and hoped to be left alone at the very least.

~

Eddie was in the back tuning his guitar when Jeff came in shaking his head.

“What’s up, man?” he asked looking back down at his sweetheart.

“Some poor bastard wandered in on the night we perform,” Jeff said with a chuckle.

Eddie raised his head and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Come here, come here,” Jeff said, waving him over.

Eddie set his guitar down and walked over. Jeff pointed at the guy at the bar. Bright yellow shirt and shiny leather pants.

“Ooh...” he said with a wince. “Poor guy. Probably had a shit day and wanted to blow off some steam and now his day is just going to get worse.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, I’m half tempted to at least buy the guy a drink for the sheer fact he fucking stayed. The balls on that dude.”

Eddie watched as the guy fondled the stem of his glass. He licked his lips slowly.

“Oh no,” Jeff said, face palming. “I know that look. And absolutely fucking not. He looks super young, Ed.”

Eddie just shrugged. “He’s at least twenty-one, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it past Monty.”

Jeff raised his head and blinked at him for a moment. Monty was a good bouncer who could spot a fake a mile away.

“Yeah, okay,” he huffed. “Objection retracted.”

Eddie clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Tell Chrissy to start a tab for this guy and have it be in my name and to put the word out that if anyone is seen harassing him will get kicked out.”

Jeff sighed but did as he was told. Eddie sat back down and began tuning his guitar again. He thought tonight was going to blow, but a little yellow canary just made things a hell of a lot more interesting.

~

Steve was sitting at the bar nursing his one drink for the evening and keeping his head down when a perky blonde slid up next to him.

“I need five bottles of Miller,” she told the bartender and then turned and gave Steve a once over. “And something for the fine gentleman here.”

Steve turned to look at her. Her hair was actually closer to red than blonde but she was cute in a preppy cheerleader kind of way.

“All these going on the same tab?” the bartender asked, handing her the five unopened beers.

She smiled up at him. “Yep! And all his drinks, too. All night. Whatever he wants.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow and then looked over Steve up and down. “God damn him. He’s doing it again?”

The woman just giggled and winked at Steve before taking her prizes with her.

Steve wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth so downed his drink and ordered a Tequila Sunrise to replace it.

But curiosity won out. “Do I want to know what that was about?”

The bartender chuckled and shook his head fondly.

Steve thought about saying something bitchy, but he really wanted his drinks for free and poking the bear was not a plan if he wanted that to happen, so kept his mouth shut.

The band came out and Steve knew he was in trouble. He objectively knew what the band looked like and vaguely knew who was who even. But all that blew out the fucking window in the face of Eddie Munson in the flesh.

Tight pants, leather jacket, shredded t-shirt, combat boots, and his hair whipping back and forth?

God, Steve was instantly horny and just as hard. He shifted in his pants and prayed that the tight pants kept his dick from showing too much. Otherwise, this was going be a very awkward evening.

He was listening to the band and bobbing along to the music when some dude over fifty came up to him.

“Name three songs off their third album,” he growled.

Steve blinked at him for a moment and then raised one eyebrow. “Dude, I’m just here for the booze. I’ve had a shit day just want to relax.”

“So you’re some townie who thinks that because this your fucked up hell hole that you can just take the spot of some real fan who wanted to see them more than you?”

Steve really didn’t know how to answer that. Because, yeah. That’s exactly what he thought.

“It’s not that serious,” Steve said, turning back to his drink. “They’re playing in both Indy and Bloomington. They can see them there instead of this dimly lit bar.” He mouthed ‘sorry’ to the bartender, who shrugged and tried to hide his smile.

“And how would you know that, asshole?” the guy growled.

Steve sighed and pointed to the sign behind the bar listing Corroded Coffin’s tour dates.

The guy whipped his head to look at the sign but before he could say anything else, Monty came up to the guy and quietly ushered him away, whispering furiously as the guy’s face paled.

The bartender shook his head. “These dudes never learn.”

Steve took a sip of his drink and set it down. “What’s that?”

“That the guys,” he pointed to the stage and Steve looked over his shoulder at the band kicking it on stage, he nodded, “don’t like it when fans try and gate keep. They can’t do jack shit at larger venues but place like this? They absolutely refuse to let that kind of shit go on.”

Steve looked over his shoulder just in time to catch Eddie winking at him. He blushed and turned bright red.

The bartender laughed before he moved on to take another order.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟲: 𝗴𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 & 𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘆𝘀/𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: george has created a serious problem. you two have been dating for over three years, and he fed from you the first time about three months ago. the problem lies within the fact that he conditioned you to orgasm every time he used you as his glorified high-class wine bottle. on second thought, that’s a pretty good problem to have; his thirst is sated, and yours is as well. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. not beta read. vampires. dubcon (from the inherent plot). safe, sane, and consensual though. coming untouched. no penetrative sex. implied sex. blood drinking. biting. mention of multiple orgasms. unnecessary world building. the grid & mercedes knows about george being a vampire. hickeys/love bites. bruises. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: george russell x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: prey • the neighborhood

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i guess i got too into the plot and lost myself in the exposition. i was originally going to delete the beginning ramblings of setting the scene and what not, but this would be like 500 words if i did that. for some reason, the entire grid knows george is a vampire? i couldn’t find the brainpower to explain who he’s hiding it from or how that would work in f1. the kink is more of the inherent tension from drinking somebodies blood. lol, anyways have fun reading 🫶🏽

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cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

george had gotten enough schooling to learn what classical conditioning is. pavlov conditioned dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell ringing; a conditioned response. george may have done the same thing to you–he made the mistake of making sure you orgasm as he bites and drinks from you. now every time he feeds from you, you cum, even if there’s no sexual build-up at all; it could be the most bland feeding session and the minute his venom enters your bloodstream, you can’t fight it—he’s pavlov-ed his girlfriend. he should’ve never allowed himself to feed from you.

when george first met you, he was enamored with you from the start. after every morning run, he would end at a local coffee shop and you would already be cozied up in a corner seat working away on your computer. you smelled delectable, george quickly picked up on that. he was thankful the barista had already memorized his usual order, because he really wouldn’t have enjoyed explaining why his canines had elongated into fangs. he couldn’t handle the way your blood was calling to him and left the coffee shop as soon as he got his drink, running into several people on the way out. you would be in the coffee shop on two out of the three days he came in, and he would be a serious hazard to any customer who came in during the five minutes he was there. it was like this for two months and twelve days (not that he was counting or anything), until you weren’t in your seat one day. george sighed in relief, shoulders relaxing and the fixed grimace in anticipation sliding off his face—what he didn’t expect to feel is disappointment at the lack of your appearance and addicting scent. he dismisses the emotions, convincing himself that he’s just used to the constant repression of his instincts around you. he even takes the time to engage in small talk with the baristas; two months ago he was well-invested into their lives, he has a lot of catching up to do. he allows himself to be forced into a seat at the counter to drink his coffee and indulge in a few pastries that are definitely breaking his diet. it’s an off day for him, his only plans are to stream in the evening with the usual quartet, so he can afford to dine in this morning…and indulge in catching up on the coffee shop gossip, he’s only a man, alright?

george is halfway through his cup of coffee and laughing along to a story about how this adorable kid tried to buy hot chocolate with monopoly money when the entrance door jingles open. he chokes on his sip of coffee, almost spraying it over the counter in surprise as you walk up to the counter. he turns to look at you ordering at the register, to confirm he’s not imagining your presence and—you look amazing. you’re wearing flared black trousers with a short-sleeved, white, collared shirt tucked into them, elegant gold jewelry accented against your brown skin—you’ve dressed up today. it’s different from the usual hoodie and headphones george sees you wearing in that corner nook of yours; at least that’s his excuse for why he ends up staring you down. after finishing your order, you head towards your usual seat and end up making direct eye contact with george, because the universe hates him. he sees your attempt at a polite smile and his cheeks burn red at being caught, and jerks his head forward breaking his stare. he hears you continue to walk past him, and the barista stares at him disbelievingly, “mate…you fumbled that.” george stutters through a denial, but then he hears your footsteps stop—and he knows you haven’t reached the corner seat yet. he picks up on the sound of you turning on your heels and heading back in his direction, and he drops his head into his hands, resigned. 

“ah! someone’s taken your seat today,” the barista in front of george calls out to you—george narrows his eyes at the man in warning, “come sit at the counter then; you can tell me what you’re all fancied-up for.” the barista glances at george with a smirk, and he swears this may be the first time he bleeds a human dry.

you laugh and sit at the counter, one seat in between you and george. and george sighs in relief for the second time today; you’re wearing perfume and it taints the smell of your blood, enough for him to not start salivating, at least. its silent for a minute, and george can feel your awkwardness radiating. 

“so…” you question teasingly, “not in a rush today, then?”

george turns to look at you, shocked that you’re even talking to him—he never figured he’d be in a conversation with you. while your voice may have been teasing, your eyes are soft, warmed with kindness, and george melts. he manages to muster a tease back in your direction, “no, not today. but, look at you—in business casual attire, i was starting to believe you only knew how to dress in sweatshirts?”

you roll your eyes at him, and a smirk replaces your painfully polite smile, “ah? today must’ve not been the only day you’ve been staring at me, if you’re so familiar with how i dress…even though we’ve never spoken to each other before.” george’s mouth drops open at you checking him, and he can hear both baristas giggling behind the counter. and at that moment, george is pretty sure he fell in love with you right then—even though he didn’t have the balls to ask you out for another month and a half. 

for those weeks, every time george came to the cafe, you would wave him over to your table with a bright grin and invite him to sit down across from you. even on days when he really couldn’t afford to be late, he’d find himself sitting down to chat with you. instead of being early to zoom meetings with the mercedes team, he started being on-time, often enough for lewis and toto to comment on it. his only response to their gentle prodding at the change in his behavior being, “i added another mile to my morning run,” when he really was spending those minutes talking to you after his run. after he built up the courage to ask for your number (platonically, of course), he would show up to the driver’s briefings a few minutes late, rushing in yet tapping away on his phone struggling to hide the smile on his face. for all of his superior senses, he doesn’t notice how his grid mates stare at him like he’s lost his mind; eventually, one of the officials calls him out when he glances down at the notifications popping up on his phone screen for the fourth time in five minutes, “mr. russell, i am sure that whatever you find so interesting on your phone can’t be more important than our discussion about track conditions, can it?”

george flushed red (he knew he shouldn’t have fed until later) and stumbled through an apology. after the briefing ends, the drivers start teasing him for being ‘so unprofessional,’ and lewis doesn’t help when he reveals how george has started being late to mercedes team meetings, too. charles pretends to faint, alex gasps in horror, and lando’s eyes light up at the opportunity to be a gremlin.

“boysboysboys,” lando grins, gathering everyone’s attention, “i think it’s finally happened.”

george sighed, over the dramatics already, “what’s happened, lando?”

“you’ve managed to get yourself a girlfriend!” lando shrieks, his high-pitched laughter hurting george’s ears.

george flusters, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “she’s not my girlfriend!” and, he’s only made it worse. 

alex’s eyes widen, pointing at george in shock, “oh my god—so you are talking to a girl!” george groans and spins on his feet to leave the room, ignoring the jibes and teases of the grown men behind him. 

later that night, his hotel room is infiltrated by almost half the grid (including fernando, for some reason), all seeming to rally behind their common goal of getting george to ask you on an actual date. they debase all of george’s points about why he shouldn’t ask you out—the main point being that he’s a fucking vampire—and ask him the one question that he’s been refusing to acknowledge, “you can smell how she feels—does she smell like she likes you?”

george hisses at them half-heartedly, more like a frazzled kitten than a terrifying monster, “yes, i’m already aware that she’s interested in me—that’s the problem! i’ve already led her on this whole time, and she doesn’t know that she has a crush on an undead, immortal, vampire!” the room quiets at his outburst, and he can only groan and drop his head into his hands. 

“so just tell her,” max states bluntly, not looking away from the fifa game he’s beating charles’ ass in. george stares at max, appalled.

“let her make the decision for herself, right?” max starts, pausing the game to look at george, “for some bizarre reason she likes you for who you are,” george scoffs, “so, just tell her from the jump—you’ve already led her on enough, so give her the opportunity to decide whether or not if she should date your lame ass.”

the vampire stares at max disbelievingly, “that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

the red bull driver shrugs, ears turning red under the surprised stares in the room, and quickly un-pauses the game and scores on charles. the monegasque screams dramatically, and the tense air is broken. george shakily sighs, anxious, and pulls out his phone to ask you on a date. originally, he was thinking about asking you through a text, but with almost every driver in the room disapproving of any way he goes about wording it, he bares his fangs at them, and steps out of his own room, to call you. 

the phone doesn’t even complete the first ring before you pick up, and a pleasant, “hi, georgieeee,” slips from your mouth; he can hear how you’re smiling through the phone. he banters with you for a minute, listening to how you're singing praises about his performance even though the actual race isn’t for another day. when the conversation dies down, he blurts out the question, “do you want to go on a—“

“i would love to go on a date with you!” you cut him off, eagerly, “i mean–sorry, yes. i would like to go out with you.” george laughs, relieved and comforted by the fact that you’re as gone for him as he is for you. he can’t even bring himself to be mad when he hears the men in his room raucously cheer.

and when george took you out for brunch to the same cafe, ignoring the baristas’ proud expressions, he realized he had nothing to worry about. the conversation flowed easily, he made you laugh and you made him laugh, and most importantly, he didn't think about draining you dry like a caprisun. you’ve ditched the cozy outfits and dressed up again—dressed up for him—and george is out of his running attire and fancied up; and you make a off-hand comment about how unnatural this feels, and george is reminded of the one important thing he was supposed to tell you. time has flown by so quickly while the two of you were hidden away in your preferred corner seat, and it’s become mid-afternoon. george surveys the surroundings briefly and is shocked to find that it’s only the two of you, and the baristas in the cafe; it’s the perfect time to tell you. 

when george states that he’s a vampire, you obviously think he’s joking, “well, you’re not burning in the sunlight, georgie–so i don’t believe you! i am afraid that if this is a kink of yours, i don’t see a second date in the future.” he tries to smile at your joke but it ends up as more of a grimace, and he exposes his fangs for you to see. he hears the breath catch in your throat, sees your eyes widening in shock, blown-out pupils shrinking in fear, hears your heart beginning to race in your chest, blood rushing in your veins, and smells your scent souring.

“george russell,” you whisper yell, glancing around anxiously, “what the fuck! i believe you—you shouldn’t do that in public! what if someone else saw?!” and that’s when he realized that sure, a small amount of your fear was from the confirmation that he is a supernatural being—but mainly that, you were afraid for him. and at that point, george knew that he could allow himself to be vulnerable with you.

and after three years together, he fed from you for the first time. a lot of planning went into the initial feeding: after the end of the racing season, a trip away just for the two of you, george would satiate his thirst with his usual blood donor supply, he wouldn’t drink more than six ounces from you, you’d eat a full meal and be properly hydrated, and of course, he’d drink from you when you orgasm. the bite hurts in the beginning—george has been told many stories from feeders—and the most common distraction to the pain is a simultaneous orgasm. you were apprehensive yet extremely willing to allow george to drink from you, and told him that you trusted him completely—you even sat through his numerous clinical rundowns of the plan without complaining. 

however in the moment, george diverted from the script. instead of having you cum once, george forced three orgasms out of you and bit you on the last one. he practically mauled your neck, chest, and hickeys throughout the night, as if he was teasing himself with the indents on of his teeth on your body before he bit into you. you couldn’t figure out if it was the venom from his bite or the multiple orgasms that had you floating pleasurably. george couldn’t deny that seeing you covered in love bites and his actual fang marks didn’t provoke a hidden possessive trait in him. the love bites he left on your body would fade within a few days, the bite mark would fade in around two weeks—and you told george explicitly that if he ever wanted to feed from you again, he’d be more than welcome to do so.

the vampire always thought that he was the one who was at risk for getting addicted to your blood; his greatest fear being that he wouldn’t be able to resist sucking you dry. however, it rapidly dawned on him: you’re the one who formed an addiction.

george always made sure his thirst was properly sated with his usual blood bags before he drank from you. over three months, he’d consistently make you cum whenever he bit you, whether it was with his fingers, cock, mouth, thigh, etc. but he never quite realized that he conditioned you into cumming whenever he bit you, until the singapore grand prix.

singapore was hot. it wasn’t hell on earth like qatar, but it was still fucking hot. and then, he crashed. as he made his way back to the mercedes garage (stomping under the force of his self-deprecation), he became increasingly aware of the tingle in the back of his throat; he’s hungry, he needs blood. he ignores his race engineer asking if he needs medical attention, and asks for a ‘juicebox,’ the codeword for a blood-bag. only to find out, he had his last one yesterday after qualifying—the hotter race weekends have him draining his supply quicker than usual. the vampire whimpers, and suddenly he’s bombarded by you speeding over from the back of the garage. you’re tugging his face down to eye level, worriedly asking if he’s hurt, but george can only register how alluring your blood smells. contrary to popular vampiric-belief (if that’s a thing, he has no clue), blood does not smell sweet. it smells metallic, and the overall scent is affected by water content and ph-level; you smell velvety, and absolutely perfect to george.

the vampire briefly reassures you that he’s fine, before he grabs you by the hand and turns to toto. george begs his team principal to postpone any of his post-race interviews for as long as he can so he can get a brief feeding in with you before he loses his mind any further. toto cuts george’s pleads off immediately and allows him to do whatever he needs; the brit's temper is short enough already, if your blood can calm his mouth toto will personally send you a brand new g-wagon. 

george pulls you along to his driver’s room, slowing when he hears how you’re tripping over your feet two match his speed. he shoves the door open, but kindly guides you with a palm on the small of your back into the room, before he steps in and slams the door shut, locking it with a quickness. he speedily sits on the edge of his couch, and pulls you onto his lap, staring up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“love,” he starts, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip, “may i drink from you? i should’ve been smarter about preserving my supply, usually i’m more careful about it, but i think i was just overager with everything this weekend. i’ll only take a small sip, just enough to hold me over until we fly back home, yeah? i mean, if you’re uncomfortable, i will not drink from you. i should be able to wait—”

you cover the vampire’s mouth with a hand, and smile softly at him, “yes, georgie, you can feed from me. the whole point of drinking from me was to have me acclimate to the feeling for rare situations like this, yes? i’m okay with it, you can take as much as you need from me.”

george stares at you for a few seconds, for some reason, he’s surprised at your easy allowance, before he’s shaken out of his stupor by you waving a hand in front of his face.

“i won’t be able to make you cum—i need to get out there as soon as possible,” george rambles out.

“ok,” you state, looking at him oddly, “i’m pretty sure i’ll be able to handle it, and if not you’ll know before i do.”

the brit asks if you’re sure one last time, before he effortlessly stands up with you in his arms, spins around and places you on the couch, sitting you where he was. the vampire kneels in front of you, and parts your legs gently, before tugging at the waistband of your pants for permission. you’re still reeling from his easy manhandling (you forget about his superior strength, he never makes it obvious), and how he fell to knees for you—the duality of his actions has you embarrassingly hot. you lift your hips up allowing george to tug off your pants, and you see firsthand how he loses his train of thought. 

when george brings you along to a race, he avoids leaving marks in a visible spots, so unfortunately for him, your neck and torso are complete bruise free; the humid weather in singapore meant that you would be wearing tank tops or cropped shirts, so he can’t risk someone seeing a smidge of a bruise on your body; they wouldn’t understand. although, george could take his fill of marking you up on your thighs. the dark skin of your inner thighs is mottled with bruises from his lips and indents of his teeth, all in various stages of healing observed by the various shades of purple they’re colored in. george slowly presses a finger into one of the marks and smirks when a strangled gasp escapes you from the pressure. if the vampire wasn’t so focused on the scent of your blood, he’d probably notice how that motion alone already had you wet.

george buries his head between your thighs, close enough that you can feel the exhales of breath from his nose over your panties. you shift, squirming away from the feeling—this is about giving george blood, which he needs for sustenance, not for you to get turned on at, you try to remind yourself.  the brit halts your movements, his hands flexing around you only slightly. you try and buck your hips away to test his grip, and you don’t move a single centimeter. you glance down, making eye-contact with your boyfriend, and the teasing smile he’s hiding behind your thigh has your heart rabbiting faster, even though you roll your eyes at him. george begins to lick and nip across your thighs searching for the best spot to pierce your skin, and you are trapped in your own mind. you’re at the mercy of an immortal being, you have no chance of fighting him off if you needed to. of course, you’re very aware that george wouldn’t lay a finger on you, but your hindbrain runs off of instincts, and it’s telling you george is a predator and you’re clearly his next meal. the adrenaline thrumming underneath your skin causes you to start breathing a little heavier and you manage to wrangle the instinctual fear away to relax under him. george startles you from your thoughts when his cold hand leads yours to rest on the nape of his neck, and he pauses when he feels you jump underneath him. 

“hey, you can still say ‘no’ if you’re not ready for this yet. there’s no pressure, love,” george reassures you. the calming tone of his voice has no judgemental lilt, and his words soothe you enough to double-down with your agreement.

“thank you for doing this for me, love. as soon as we get back to the hotel, i’ll take care of you properly–i promise,” george praises you, “now, remember, this won’t take any longer than ten seconds. if you need me to stop beforehand, pinch the skin on my neck and i’ll stop, okay?”

you swallow, clearing your throat, “yes, george. can we start already? my nerves will scare me away if we wait too long.”

george nods, hands petting at your waist reassuringly, before he focuses back on your thighs. his nose tracing along your sensitive skin for a few more seconds, until he stops and nuzzles at a spot almost on the underside of your left thigh, close enough to your pussy to have the fear fade under the anticipation of pleasure. the vampire kisses at the spot three times, before he lets his fangs slide out with an audible shlick. he presses them gently against you skin for a few seconds before he bites down.

the pain isn’t from the invasion of his fangs, but from the spread of the venom. it burns as it spreads through your bloodstream; you imagine this is what boiling alive feels like. the feeling is immense but fleeting. the initial bite has always been paralyzing, but when george takes the first pull of blood, the venom must have reached your brain and taken effect, because the pain instantly switches to an immobilizing amount of pleasure. the scream that was originally building in your chest transforms into a keening moan, the burning pain no longer present.

you feel your core tightening as george continues to feast on your blood; thighs trembling in pleasure, eyes rolling back overwhelmed, and toes curling. it’s happening so quickly, quick enough that you don’t register that you’re cumming. waves of pleasure crash over you unendingly, and you’re unable to figure out why. every drag of blood george takes ruins any chance you have to think. the pleasure is so catastrophic that you don’t even register when george releases the bite. 

the vampire can only stare up at you in awe as your mouth parts, drool beginning to leak from the corner of your lips, your eyes slamming shut, and face scrunching from the force of the orgasm he ripped out of you. george soothes the bite closed with careful sweeps of his tongue, allowing you all the time you need to come back to him. he softly sucks a few more marks into the meat of your thigh before he fights himself away from cradle of your legs, brushing a kiss on your cunt over your panties.

the vampire slides his way onto the couch next to you, pulling you into his arms to allow you to shake through the aftershocks in his grasp. he presses kisses to your forehead, while he murmurs praises freely. while his mouth is running in one direction, his thoughts take a completely different turn.

he’s ruined you for any other person. he’s trained you to orgasm with a simple bite of his fangs. your body has correlated the painful spread of his venom with pleasure. george has tied you to him for the rest of your life. this is a huge fucking problem. his mind starts racing; if that’s the case he either needs to work that out of you, or he can never feed from you in situations like this again. you’ll be useless for the rest of the day, your brain has turned into jello. he needs to make sure that he manages his blood supply properly in the future, so he doesn’t have to drink from you where the media can discover how gone you are. 

george has no idea how he would go about un-training your…pleasurable…response to his bite. on second thought, george doesn’t want to change your newfound reflex. if anything, it’s like an equal exchange. the vampire satiates his thirst, and you satiate your thirst. george coos at you adoringly when he hears the near inaudible moans your breathing into his neck—yeah, he thinks you’ll agree with him when you’re aware enough to do so.

he finds himself tracing the fresh bite mark with a thumb, groaning when your hips grind against him in return. he fumbles his phone out of his pocket to tell toto he needs at least another twenty minutes.

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

© httpsserene 2023

[jams-sims]

Anyway i've calm down, taken a couple of deep breaths and I'm ready to tackle whatever the fuck it was we all just experienced the latter half of the stream.

Tubbo is confirmed dead, he is a robot of some kind, he made another robot called Creation, creation finds the Gurdian, the guardian is Philza, Philza and Creation meet it is initially hostile from Philza end, Everything is hashed out, Creation says he must rebuild tubbo for Sunny, they go to see Tubbos body, Create says that Tubbos is missing data.

Create must find the one that killed Tubbo to get that missing Data. The data is purpose (I think, I remember them saying a couple of name but for now we are calling it purpose.) it between all of that, create says the data must be in the possession of the person who killed Tubbo. That is Richas.

We go back to spawn we meet up with people, inbetween all of that, Creation scans Richas and says he believe Richas has the missing data/know as purpose.

This is the part that is really up in the air. I don't believe creation would have any reason to lie and say Richas has something he doesn't. But because no one check it pretty much has become schroders cat.

Now it could be Richas has another items of important. He may not even have this thing/data known as purpose. Because Tubbos has been in limbo the entire time we have had this reset.

Tubbos love life is in shambles, he feels out of place in the morning crew, he doesn't have create. He was in a bad place and there is a real world where purpose is not a physical item but something that Tubbos must attain himself. It is not something he can just be given or collected in data.

The second part that crazy is the only way to bring him back is for someone to unlock create and build a super computer. The problem everyone is super broke expect for Bad. An the person who was asked and given a special name was Philza, Philza is broke monetary in the new system. He can't do anything.

WELCOME TO CAPALTISM BABY!

This is not even touching on how soul crushing it is for sunny to be left alone. Tubbo and Sunny had a big fight and now sunny alone with no one and it's heart breaking. It ironic because the one that can relate to her the most is Tallulah.

Tallulah has gone through it beat for beat. An it sad that they couldn't have talked more and Sunny anger is valid. Her hate for Richas for taking her dad away will need to be worked through but for now she is left alone go back to her house to be with Leo.

It is on top of that I'm also bring up with the seriousness of the situation. Philza went directly to the spawn point to try and break laws to get a bunny to show up. It is heart breaking to see him breaking shit and screaming out into empty air for someone to show up.

Tubbo has named Philza correctly, he is a Guardian.

[sublimetragedychopshop]

Ever think about those desperate stalker yanderes that are desperate af to get the attention of their “idgaf” darling? I think about them a lot. How the darling doesn’t even bat an eye when they wake up with company in their bed (when they KNOW they locked the door with brand new bolts) just rolling over and get ready for work with a sigh. The tired darlings who apologize to their boss in advance for that weird person that has been standing outside the (store/company building/wherever you work) saying that it’s a complicated situation. Darlings that gaze straight at the camera that they know is being pointed at them. A tired look on their face.

They are just too tired with life’s problems to asses the actual THREAT that is right in front of them (nobody should be this chill when confront with a stalker). Their work makes them unable to make themselves proper meals. Now their yandere always manages to leave nutritious lunchboxes on their counter every morning next to a plate of fresh breakfast. Their family takes most of their money, being told that darling needs to repay them back after years of raising them, which leaves them being constantly near broke. Only for lovely yan to gift them various presents all ranging from luxuries to actual necessities. Of course the sickly sweet nauseous notes the leave with the gifts are hard to read, but reader appreciates every single gift. They really couldn’t afford to be picky. Next was the crushing loneliness of a person living day to day, just trying to afford being alive but not living. The yandere constantly leaves them sticky notes with positive affirmations in their home all the time. Often texting their phone with love messages, and paragraphs and essays about how they love them so much, how no one amounts to them, if someone so much as breathes near their darling then they are as good as dead. It’s oddly comforting in a sick and lonely way.

Darlings who know this is messed up. It’s wrong and sick and NOT NORMAL. they tell themselves that they need to get rid of the yandere but know they can’t. They can’t they can’t they can’t. What are they going to do if their yandere suddenly disappears? What fucking life are they going back to? The one that made them miserable and numb? Besides it’s not like Yan actually has down any real damage to darling. They act more like a house spouse in a way, loving and caring. But so blood thirsty to the people who get close to their darling. Two sides to the same terrifying coin. Nothing that they would be able to prove to anyone. Their yandere is smart-desperate and stalkery but smart.

Darlings who give in after finding the yan in their bed after coming back home from work. It was the third night that they have seen them, not often because Yan said they would melt under your overwhelming gaze. At first they greet you with a smile and a “darling! Your back, I missed you sooo much!” It was almost loving, childish and innocent how they looked. Like you were both a real couple. Without a word you just walked to them on the bed and slumped against them. Arms wrapped around them as you took them down against the bed. Full body going limp from exhaustion. They were surprised at first, but expecting you to just do that (though that have been surprised by your reaction to most things) smiling a little they cuddled you as you just closed your eyes for a little. Relishing in how soft and nice smelling they were, how warm and comfy this position was.

Somehow this brought you to tears, silent tears streaming down your face as you stayed their emotionless. Your hand gripping their clothes to stay as close as possible. God this was fucking pathetic of you, seeking comfort from a fucking stalker? A creep?…… it didn’t matter anymore. If this person was willing to have you, better yet be so obsessed with you that they would die without you, then you would just give yourself to them.

(In the end this turned a little sad but I like it anyway!)

[didyoulookforme]

thinking about riding Matty while his hands are tied behind his back yummy yummy monday evening thoughts

oh my god anon, thank you for this.

are you in my head? because this is something i've been wanting to chat about regarding soft subby bf matty but haven't gone around to doing a proper blurb so here are some ramblings that i hope make sense. it's just a run-on stream of consciousness thing with no formatting and no real ending. i also got too carried away so it is a longer one lol

warning: 18+, smut, reader is upset. grammatical errors, typos.

other bf matty blurbs & rambles here.

okay, so imagine you just got home from a fucking awful day of work. freaking debbie from accounting is back at it, making your job impossible and a living hell. who knows what her problem is. anyway. right away when you enter the apartment you are greeted by the scent of a delicious pasta that your dear bf matty is preparing because he's one damn good cook (it's canon for him, lol). you go to the kitchen and sit at the bar, watching as matty whips up the alfredo sauce which is your favourite. matty greets you without looking at first because he's too focused on getting the proper cheese to cream ratio for the sauce, but once he does, he knows right away that something's off.

bad day, huh?

you make some sort of confirming grunt before you rest your forehead on the cold marble countertop. because your head is down, you don't notice the sad expression on matty's face; he cares about you too much so anytime you're feeling down he cannot help but feel upset, too. he takes one last taste of the sauce (perfect!) before he pulls it off the fire and places it on a trivet. as much as he loves cooking and prepping dinner for you, he wants to make you feel better. so the pasta can wait. bless him.

he takes off his denim apron (which has a drawing of a rooster on the front, for some reason...) before heading over to your side. you feel the warm palm of his hand rub your back in the gentlest of ways while his other grabs your hand. c'mon darling. you raise your head to finally look at your surroundings again only to realize that he stove burners are off and his apron is crumpled on the countertop.

matty, what about the food, i know you like finish-

don't worry about it, love, the food will still taste good later on. let's go.

you're not one to deny him, so you get off the stool and follow his lead as he takes you over to the living room, guiding you to both to sit on the sofa.

he asks about your day as he knows talking makes you feel better in these sort of occasions but it catches him off guard (and you as well, truly) when you just start sobbing uncontrollably as you recount your day. the stress and pressure has been building in your body that all you can really do is cry out of frustration. matty instantly brings you close so you're straddling him, arms wrapped tightly around you, trying to provide some sort of comfort as the tears just stream down your face soaking the fabric of his shirt. your head is buried in the crook of his neck, giving him access to gently kiss the skin of your exposed neck, continuously whispering it's okay, it's okay.

and everything is usually okay, but this time you cannot help but feel an overwhelming mixture of anger and exhaustion. it's bad enough that you've subconsciously grabbed fistfuls of your boyfriend's curly hair, and when you realize you're doing so, you instantly jerk away, apologizing profusely while more tears streak down your face.

oh no, i'm sorry. i'm so sor--

he urgently but carefully grabs your face between his hands, bringing his forehead against yours. it's okay, it's okay. everything feels like too much right now, that not even the sensation of his gentle fingers on your face can soothe whatever is brewing inside you.

and at that moment you cannot help but kiss him. hard, fast and hungrily. he whimpers against your lips at the shock of it all, but doesn't hesitate to kiss you back, letting you take the lead and set the pace. teeth clashing against each other, you bitting at his bottom lip, shoving your tongue in his mouth constantly. it's messy and aggressive but he doesn't stop you, only pulling away to catch your breath, looking down at the crumbled fabric of his now over stretched shirt clenched in between your fingers.

seeing his dishevelled state--red swollen lips, unruly hair, wrinkled top--is enough to edge you on to continue, now focusing on leaving marks all over his neck, around the several necklaces that he wears. there's nothing gentle about it, a sharp contrast as to how softly he's holding on to your waist. you lick, bite, suck at any skin that you find, leaving behind countless bruises along the way as he moans uncontrollably underneath you. your left hand is back on his hair, pulling at it so his neck is exposed, while your right one is aimlessly trying to unbutton his pants but failing miserably. god knows you're already frustrated enough, so you just grab one of matty's hands and bring it over to the front of his jeans so he can undo the pesky button and zipper himself. once he's done, he places your palm back at the top of his pants, giving him a mumbled thank you before you slide your fingers under the fabric of his boxers.

you waste no time and start stroking his cock as fast as you can, all while you desperately kiss him leaving you both breathless once more. because of your erratic pace, it doesn't take long for matty to begin losing control. you know he's getting near his climax because of the way his legs are starting to shake and how close he pulls your body against him. however, you're too deep in whatever trance has possessed over you, that you take your hand away as to not let him finish. not yet at least.

and before he says anything about it, you get off his lap and on to your feet, dragging him up with you so you can take off his pants and underwear completely. you instruct him to remove his shirt and you swear he's never done it faster in his life. instantly your lips are clashing against each other for the millionth time that night, giving you the chance to reach behind your head and undo the white silk scarf holding up your ponytail. again, you're not entirely sure what's taken over your mind and body, but before you know it, you tie matty's wrists behind his back.

you push him down on the couch, bitting your bottom lip and silently asking him if this is alright. the fucked out expression and small smile tugging at the corner of his lips is all the confirmation you need.

please.

you take off your soaked underwear but decide to keep your floral cotton dress on because you know it's his favourite. it's the least you can do for how you've been treating him. not that he minds; it's quite the opposite in fact. with each of your knees to his sides, you straddle him for the second time that night, grabbing his cock and guiding him to your cunt before you sink down and take him all at once.

and it fucking hurts. having him inside you without any foreplay is probably a stupid choice, but part of you hopes that the pain can help take away some of the anger and resentment built up in your body not only from that day, but weeks and months prior. more tears end up streaming down your face. from the pain or anger, you don't know. probably both.

hey, hey. love are you ok-?

you cover his mouth with your hand before he can say anything else, but you look at him and nod, glassy eyes assuring him that it is okay. he returns an understanding, soft look, and that's when you finally begin to move your hips, grinding hard against his dick so you can feel every single inch of him inside you. in that instant you see his brown eyes roll to the back of his head, mumbling a fuck against the palm of your hand. you work yourself up to a steady pace, switching between grinding and moving up and down his cock to hit that spot inside you which makes you delusional.

with your fingers still over his open mouth, you can hear his muffled moans, his spit now covering the palm of your hand and dripping down his chin. it's fucking obscene sight but one that you hope you'll never forget.

making sure that his eyes are on yours, you finally take the hand off his mouth. his gaze follows as you take your soaked fingers and guide them under your dress, your high pitched moans a clear sign that you have started to rub your clit.

oh my fucking god.

he snaps his head up to look at you with the most lustful yet loving expression on his face. the adoration radiating off him is too much for you to handle and you cannot help but smile, the first time you’d done so during that whole day. there is no more pain, no more tears, just pure pleasure running through your body, washing away the frustration.

thank you.

[stanwixbuster]

jynx absolutely fascinates me as a game dev because they're like. inspiration but in the opposite way of literally everything they've ever done

jynx decided they want to make touhou-like shmups, and decided to approach this by building most patterns around extremely fast bullets relying entirely on player reaction or having already seen a pattern before, infamously the most disliked and player-antagonistic way of approaching bullet hells

jynx added a great iteration on touhou-like shmups with flash bombing, an infinitely regenerating way to clear bullets if you put yourself in active danger in contrast to the use of bombs as a safe but finite resource, and then made sure you could only use it if you aren't focusing your shots, which you spend over 90% of a touhou-like doing

jynx created "absurdly extra" stages just as a complete fuck you to the player. half of them are humanly impossible to complete

jynx's version of character development is to add more characters. jynx will drop one of the most fascinating backstories you've ever heard that has groundbreaking and sweeping impacts on len'en lore, yet somehow being entirely consistent with it, and then proceed to do literally nothing and minutes later introduce another character with one of the most fascinating backstories you've ever heard. len'en has 40+ characters and all of them have been in perpetual Big Things Are Coming hell for over half a decade

jynx has spent over an alledged 15 years working on the world and lore in mugenri and the outside world, desperately wants to share this and continually mentions the short stories and lore dumps they write, which we never see, because they have somehow convinced themself the only way to show this story is through touhou-likes, which are notable for showing "story" as an excuse for people to shoot bullets at each other

jynx treats feature creep like an arms race. there isn't a single idea they come up with that doesn't end up in a game or is planned to at a later date. len'en 4 is still technically unfinished despite it having enough paths to dwarf all the previous len'en games combined thrice over and featuring the entire cast of the series in it (i will stress again, 40+ characters), and they've promised a dlc with even more stuff to do

jynx wanted to make a mobile cafe management simulator after having made nothing but bullet hell shmups on pc, just because it sounded fun, realised their previous tools couldn't make mobile games well, realised they'd be going in entirely blind on a new tech stack, realised they'd be going in blind on a genre they have no experience with, decided to tag on a second entire game to the cafe management with a turn-based rpg, realised they also have no experience with that genre, continued anyway, learnt how to use unity from the ground up, realised the multitude of issues unity development brings, decided every single character also needed to be in this one with unique boss battles, realised the problems of having 40+ character assets and 5min+ music themes in a mobile game that very infamously is a platform you need to stick to strict asset and tech limitations, decided to stream in assets from a server, made it a live service game because it would be online and that was an obvious next step, stuck through it, totalling in five years of dev time to make a full "gacha" game that is generous beyond belief and makes them a net zero in ad revenue vs server costs

jynx iterates nothing. literally everything you see in their games is the first go and if it sucks, too bad

jynx creates all their music with default fl studio sounds and the touhou trumpet. everything's unmixed. they earnestly believe that loud = better

jynx, allegedly, "blacks out" when making music after hitting some kind of flow state, and wakes up with a complete track. like everything else, these are never iterated on

jynx wrote the entirety of len'en 4's 100,000+ word script in one week. i don't even have a funny comment for this one

jynx doesn't think len'en would fit the format of a visual novel despite the fact len'en 4 has a 100,000+ word script

jynx refuses to collab with anyone for any reason. motives unclear

jynx did three 12 hour back-to-back livestreams crunching to finish book of the cafe. literally no part of this is a good idea

jynx is like the quintessential representation of everything you shouldn't do as a game dev. they should have burnt out years ago and been remembered as nothing but a random quirky touhou ripoff that was an interesting yet janky interpretation but ultimately went nowhere and YET here we are coming in to len'ens decade anniversary

how the fuck is jynx a real person. why am i so obsessed with everything they've ever made

[cattimeswithjellie]

Stream Recap, Skizzleman, 7/03/24

((Got my internet back this morning, phew! I did post a poll last night for anyone who has input on which Hermits I ought to be concentrating on recapping. Go and vote in it if you have Thoughts, or send me an ask if your thoughts are more lengthy. In the meantime, enjoy Skizzleman starting up his Attorney's Office build, hanging out with Tango, being a guinea pig for Pearl, and discussing with Chat why the fans keep making him an angel.))

4:45 Skizz opens the stream with a black screen. He greets the Chat and gives everyone an unnerving stare for several seconds. One day, he promises, he will really commit to the bit and see how long he can hold that stare just to bother chat. He thanks subs and donos and opens the game. He is standing on the highest current level of his pyramid. Skizz has taken it very easy the past two days and is feeling lazy about it. There is lots to talk about today!

9:30 Skizz flies to his base while talking about dog problems. Kevin Bubbles has been very naughty lately. Skizz is not concerned about the possibility of Doc taking revenge against him for the court case. Skizz feels lazy because all his current projects are actually doing okay right now and the holiday long weekend is coming up, so he could’ve been on the server but wasn’t. He is not going to let himself feel guilty about that, though. Instead, there is a build plan for today! Skizz flies to the shopping district and lands on Poe Poe HQ, facing the empty corner between it and the Courthouse. He is going to build an attorney’s office! He put a lot of time and effort into building the “Skizz Attorney” character he made for the Cleo v. Doc court case, put a lot of TLC into the video, got a lot of good feedback, and now he does not want it to be a one-and-done anymore. (Highlights include Skizz telling his wife that he had to spend an evening prepping his case because he was going to court the next day.)

13:00 Skizz has talked to Bdubs and Scar about adding an attorney’s office to the area where they have been building and they were enthusiastic about the idea. Skizz is nervous because he’ll be building right next to large builds by two exceptional builders. He’s going to give it a try anyway, knowing all along that there is the possibility that at some point he will tear the whole thing down, put the grass back, and just give up. It’s a possibility, but it’s better to try than not to try!

15:40 A chatter asks Skizz what his feelings are on the “Angel” portrayal of Skizz in fanart. Skizz wants to make it clear that he is very honored by all fanart, but he’s not sure where the angel thing came from. He is super-distracted by a 100-sub bomb. Chat is very excited too. He thanks subs and donos. A chatter asks about how to get their stream restarted. He tells them to ask themselves why they want to stream, and if any part of that is “I love it,” then that’s enough. Ignore everything else and do it because you love it. He especially thanks the chatter who gave many subs.

20:00 Chat reminds Skizz that he was talking about fanart. He reiterates that he loves fanart, and the angel thing is sweet, but he does not deserve to be portrayed as an angel. They don’t upset him but he likes the art better without them. He thanks more subs and donos. A chatter asks why Impulse “cheated” with Jimmy to play Among Us. Skizz pretends to be upset but he is not, he and Impulse will play Among Us again. Skizz needs shulker boxes. He goes to his portal tunnel to empty a shulker of cobblestone, but it turns out that “throwing item” is enough to trigger the skulk sensor that activates the “Sup, buddeh,” noise, which plays about 15 times. Skizz is confused at first, then starts doing it for fun. The same chatter from before gifts another 100 subs.

26:00 A chatter tells Skizz that fanartists draw Impulse as a demon as a reference to how he first joined Hermitcraft. ((In Impulse’s first episode of Season 3, he is “summoned” onto Hermitcraft by Tango, Mumbo and Xisuma for redstone shenanigans, summoning circle, chanting and all.)) Because Impulse and Skizz have a very “yin-yang” dynamic, fanartists draw Skizz as the angel of the pair. Skizz remembers seeing that somewhere before, and admits that he feels a lot better about that explanation than thinking that the fandom has ascribed something particularly angelic or ultra-good to him. He continues assembling tools and materials and is about to tell Chat his plan when he gets distracted by Chat again. A chatter called “Evilbutnice” gets assigned the nickname “EvilButt” because Skizz likes to say that. He may start using that as a nickname for his wife. Chat thinks Skizz just likes to say “butt.” He agrees and tells the story of the time his band teacher said “butt” and it was really funny.

28:00 Skizz visits the Bop & Go to repair his elytra. He needs to go dig a whole bunch of sand so he can buy acacia wood from Doc. Chat and Impulse (who is lurking in the stream) notice that Skizz did not touch the noteblock to reset Bop & Go. Impulse notes that this is obviously why the machine has not been getting reset lately. Skizz fixes that mistake. He notices a comment from one of his mods saying that Skizz never remembers and rarely reads and insists that he _just did_ remember (with some help.) Every other time he has remembered and Impulse just didn’t happen to be watching. He asks if Chat wants him to pull back the curtain on something, then decides he won’t after all.

30:20 Skizz takes off for the sand-gathering desert, thanking subs and donos on the way. A chatter tells him that the fanartists also like the creative irony of making the guy who toes the line of PG more than anybody else into the angel. Skizz likes that a lot. He arrives at the desert and finds it empty of sand, but does find some coal. He finds a little bit of sand and begins the laborious process of digging it out with an unenchanted iron shovel. He thinks he should probably just sue Doc instead. He decides to get out the diamond shovel even though it doesn’t have mending, just to spare himself and everyone else the agony. Chat informs him that Tango is looking for him.

33:00 Skizz quibbles with Chat over who is the assistant sleepmaster and who is assistant TO THE sleepmaster. He sends Tango his coords and makes plans to play Wordle later now that Pearl has made the redstone even better ((Dyeduction can now handle double-letter words!)) He will not play on stream again, cause that was BRUTAL last time. He digs some more sand and gets distracted by the existence of terracotta. Chat reminds him that Scar sells sand, and that Tango is on his way. Skizz tells the music to be cooler. A chatter suggests that Skizz set his spawn, just in case. He does so.

37:40 A wild Tango appears on the horizon! Skizz shoots at him, of course. Tango dodges and weaves, eventually coming into mic range and making it clear that he has not yet seen Skizz and is trying to get directions from his chat. Skizz pings him with the bow. Tango flies up to meet Skizz and asks what Skizz needs and if he just called Tango out here to grab a shovel and get to work. Skizz protests that his chat told him that Tango was looking for him! Tango admits that he needed to kill some time after doing lots of boring redstone on stream that day. Skizz sighs and makes his own greatest technical achievement: a skompass. Tango is happy that he finished his project, and when he goes back to his factory he will be able to see if the new chunkloaders actually work or if the whole thing has pooped itself again.

40:30 Tango asks Skizz what he’s up to out here. Skizz reveals his extremely self-destructive idea to freehand a new building live on stream between a building built by Bdubs and a building built by Scar. “Yeah, sure, what could go wrong?” Tango jokes. He points out that there’s no way Skizz is going to be happy with it. Skizz tells him he’s the worst cheerleader ever. Tango says he’d rather do redstone on stream than build on stream because with redstone it’s either right or it’s wrong, but with building it’s easy to spiral into doubt. Skizz describes himself ask the kid who throws himself into the deep end to see if he can swim. He’d rather know on the other side that he made a bad choice than not trying to make a choice at all. Tango asks if it’s time to go get beer and burgers yet. Skizz tells him not yet, he’s going to pick up Impulse later and they will meet up with Tango. They are both excited (and hungry!)

42:30 Skizz double-checks with Tango about Scar selling both sand and gravel. Tango agrees, but says he doesn’t know if Scar has any stock. Skizz takes off unceremoniously and only belatedly groups up with Tango to talk. Skizz tries to shoot Tango a few more times as they fly back to the factory. He hits once but doesn’t kill him. Tango calls him Failguy and tells him his Velocitay needs work. It’s probably just as well though, since Tango is already bummed about his new redstone not working. Tango explains the trouble he’s been having trying to turn off the factory when he leaves the chunk, and how his chunk loaders are not turning things off like they should. Skizz asks how the system can possibly know when Tango leaves. Tango takes Skizz into the basement and introduces him to Unpaid Intern, an endermite on a floor made of observers whose movement serves as a player detector. When the intern stops moving (because there is no player nearby) the system reacts. Skizz compares it to an accelerometer sensor, Tango agrees except it’s not working. Tango’s chat has ideas for him. Skizz follows Tango down into his truly inexplicable redstone workings and takes care of some coal ore he finds there while Tango is troubleshooting.

47:50 There is actually quite a bit of coal ore around, but Skizz is just the guy for the job! As he mines, he asks Tango if he wants to play Wordle live on stream. “No!” Tango says immediately. Skizz assures him that it is the worst. Skizz has to go because he’s busy and Tango needs to debug anyway. He sneaaaaaks around the corner with his bow, but Tango flies away before he can shoot and mocks him over the groupchat. Skizz insists he wasn’t actually going to do it, but that does not stop the mocking. Chat is ready to hunt Tango for sport, but in a nice and friendly way. Skizz gets slightly lost before finding his way out of Tango’s basement and heading for the sand shop. He thanks subs and donos as he goes. He admires Scar’s build, but there are no more shulkers of sand and only a few stacks of sand. Skizz attempts to turn diamonds into acacia with math, but it is too difficult and he won’t read chat. He’s just going to dig sand… except he’s running out of rockets. He’s going to coast home, then he’s going to go dig sand.

52:30 Skizz fetches his rockets and organizes his inventory, putting things away like a grownup and fetching his better shovel. He goes to put away the sand he has already collected and realizes he already has a shulker box with nineteen stacks of sand. He sighs and calls himself a brilliant, brilliant man. Chat is amused. Skizz is just going to pretend he didn’t even see anything and leave. He’s going to buy some acacia and get working. He’s played around just a little bit in Creative with some ideas and he also collects up some blackstone before heading back to the SD. As he flies, he plays the Bop Song for Chat. He flies to the wood shop and realize that Doc has raised prices on wood and it is now four stacks per stack. He also can’t figure out where to pay, a consistent problem this season for Doc. Chat helps him out. He buys four stacks of acacia wood.

58:30 The Bop Song ends and Skizz tells Chat that Iskall told him the other day that he’d listened to the Skizzlefarts song. He’d initially given up five seconds in, then went back later and realized it was a bop. Skizz will play the song for Chat later. He checks profits in his own shop, some sales, and goes to buy some mud. Stress’s shop is still a pop-up and living on borrowed time, but it does have mud in it. He buys three stacks, then realizes he has to run home for grass before he can build. Chat thinks they understand why Skizz runs out of rockets so often. He gets the grass and plays the Skizzlefarts song as he flies back.

1:02:00 While the song is playing, Skizz sets up a home base outside the courthouse and begins filling in grass to create an even build surface. Chat likes this song a lot. Mr Joker comes into Chat but Skizz is in the zone and doesn’t see. Chat is sympathetic and tells him that the best way to keep a secret from Skizz is to put it in his chat. Skizz does eventually notice him and says hello. In game chat, Pearl asks Skizz if he would like to be her guinea pig. Skizz doesn’t see the message. Chat starts yelling at him about it. Impulse is also in chat and helps. Skizz is busy singing the Skizzlefarts song acapella.

1:07:00 Impulse, being the good friend and hero to Chats everywhere that he is, logs into the game and accepts Pearl’s invitation graciously on Skizz’s behalf. Pearl is happy. Impulse logs out. Skizz is still not paying attention. Pearl thanks Impulse for trying, at least. Chat is howling with laughter and rage. Gem says that Skizz can’t read, he’s a hermit. It’s part of the invite process. Skizz finally notices something and opens game chat, asking how much he is supposed to be expected to read! Chat thinks Gem is very funny. Skizz figures out what is happening, agrees on his own behalf this time, and pauses the recording, telling Chat that this is why he can’t get anything done. Chat doesn’t care, they are happy to go see Pearl. Knowing what guinea pig duty usually entails on Hermitcraft, Skizz empties his inventory except for rockets and food and goes to find Pearl at the flower shop.

1:09:20 Skizz arrives at the flower shop and is greeted by Pearl. She thanks him for being a guinea pig today. Pearl proudly explains that she has improved the Wordle redstone to do double letters successfully. Skizz wails, both because that was his favorite part of Dyeduction and because he’s realizing that he’s about to play Wordle on stream again. She explains the new intricacies of the system (a correct guess in the right place will not lock the letter anymore, just light up the lamp so full words can still be played.) Pearl promises him that it’s an easy word today and asks if he wants to try Hard Mode (which is timed). Skizz agrees reluctantly. Chat has been wondering if Pearl just woke up or simply has not slept yet; she has changed things down here since the end of her stream so the consensus is “has not slept.” Skizz empties his inventory and collects all his letters, impressed by the colorful new textures for the letter tiles. Pearl gives him the clue that it’s a double letter word.

1:12:50 Skizz starts the game and plays “HORSE.” Pearl sings the Bop song with him as he puts the word into place. He gets no letters in the correct spot, but R and O are in the word. He decides to get really bold and play “TROTT,” disregarding the trouble sign that Pearl doesn’t know if that’s how you spell Trot. Chat has qualms about this choice. He plays it anyway and gets the R and O in the correct spot, but there are no Ts. He thinks about Crown, but there are no Ws. He thinks about Brown, but there are still no Ws. He decides to play CROAK just to get clues. He gets no letters in position, but there is an A in the word. He is now past half-time on the clock.

1:20:00 Hard Mode Dyeduction currently has no sound, so Pearl provides some happily trollsome noises as Skizz tries very hard to think of what double-letter word fits his current clues. He makes a lot of noises of his own, then guesses AROMA and slams the letters into place as fast as possible. He is correct! Everyone cheers! Pearl thinks that was a great word for a flower shop. Skizz gets his reward bundle and because he did hard mode, he gets the flower crown reward! Pearl has to show him how to use the bundle because he was not around for TCG last season. He puts on the crown and stands next to Pearl, looking very hippyish. He loves Pearl’s redstone. Pearl offers to show it to him, but first the game must be reset. He puts the letters away and resets, but has forgotten the castoff barrel letters. He suggests to Pearl that she should put up a sign to remind people, she reminds him that Hermits don’t read things. He has to agree.

1:24:00 Pearl gives Skizz the grand tour of her “noodles,” the intricate and Pearl-optimized system of redstone that powers the game. It is much bigger than last time Skizz visited the game. He has no idea what is happening or how. She shows him a test system that she built with Xisuma while working on the double letter system. Skizz may or may not understand the redstone system, but he can definitely take care of the coal lurking in Pearl’s walls. She tells him to be careful of the water behind the walls and he yelps and jumps back, but she’s not too worried since this was only a test system. Skizz still does not want to take chance. If he broke this redstone, he would probably disconnect and not come back for a month.

1:28:00 Skizz compliments Pearl again on her awesome redstone. Pearl is justifiably proud of herself, saying she didn’t really think this would be her redstone season, but it turns out it really is. Skizz decides he’s going to do something for Pearl. Pearl hopes he is going to give her some redstone. Nope, he is going to hit her up (off-stream, of course) for a new project. She asks if it’s a redstone project and he tells her of course it is. “Oh no!” Pearl replies, but she is interested. Skizz tells her it has to be perfect but then gets distracted because he has somehow gotten himself incredibly stuck inside a composter. There is a block over his head and he cannot get out, and he can’t break the block because there is redstone on it. Chat pauses in their laughing just long enough to suggest an ender pearl might be the only way out of this one. Pearl finds an “Ender-me” and gives it to him, letting him escape his ridiculous predicament. Pearl reminisces about back in the day when the first version of Wordle was basically impossible to break. This version is very breakable, in a number of ways. Tango raids into the stream, though he doesn’t appear to realize he’s done so successfully based on his chat messages.

1:31:00 Pearl thanks Skizz for his guinea pig services as Skizz recovers his inventory and eats. He assures her that he is always ready to be a guinea pig for her redstone improvements and heads out. He flies back to the law office and welcomes the raiders, then thanks subs and donos. Tango’s chat says Tango needs to do his hair to get ready for the man-date.

1:34:30 Skizz restarts recording and gets back to work! He is using path blocks to sketch out the design of the building. He starts putting down acacia blocks, then yells “Assistant Sleepmaster!” and dives into bed even as Chat responds with a score of “TO THE.” With the sun back up, he takes the acacia back down and changes the shape slightly. Chat is concerned about blocking the bridge, but Skizz wants to leave enough room for Joe to have an office too, if he wants one. He moves his design over slightly. In stream chat, Gem confirms that the bridge has plenty of room.

1:43:00 Skizz does a little terraforming to get his design the way he wants it. Chat reminds him to eat. Tango announces in game chat that he fixed his iron issue, Gem and Skizz are proud of him. Skizz starts placing acacia again. He explains his patterning idea to Chat, a checkerboard of acacia logs that will get largely moved or covered as the build progresses. He is going to need more acacia. Skizz is a scaffolding guy, so he sets some of that up as well as he works. Chat says that Joe may not need half the space since he talked on stream about possibly building a law office into his Tuff shop. Skizz acknowledges that is a possibility, but told Joe he would leave the space open until he decided where he wanted his office. Skizz does not need such a large space to build on anyway. Law offices should not be the size of courthouses!

1:53:00 Skizz shows off the first wall, which seems promising. He reminds Chat that this could all wind up being torn down, but he still is happy that he’s trying. Chat gives him suggestions on how to optimize acacia use, since he is using lots and lots of expensive logs with this design. He sings a borderline inappropriate song but stops before the bad parts, then goes and sleeps again. Chat helps him correct an alignment in one of the pillars, and wall-building continues. Chat is restive about a design defect in the second wall, Skizz eventually notices that as well, but he doesn’t have the right acacia wood to correct it.

2:03:00 Doc loves to make Skizz miserable, so it’s back to Big Wood to trade more sand for acacia. He spends the rest of his shulker of sand for three more stacks of acacia, but he’s not going to be gracious about it! Chat shakes their head over out-of-control inflation. Skizz returns, realizes that he can’t actually correct the pattern in such a way that both walls are correct. He makes the front wall correct at the expense of the tiny side wall in the hope that nobody but Chat will notice. Chat reminds him to start recording. He builds some more, sleeps again, and admits he does the assistant sleepmaster bit because he hates the darkness in Minecraft. He puts more top pillars on and wishes he had Swift Sneak, but he does not because he was MURDERED. He puts some mud brick on the ground around the building to show Chat his idea for how the ground will look. Chat likes it, and also likes the noise mud bricks makes.

2:13:00 Skizz runs into one more pattern issue on the back wall but takes Chat’s suggestion on how to get around it sneakily with a pillar. He tells a cute story about the time his daughter met her great-grandmother for the first time and immediately said “I like your face!” Chat suggests the possibility that just going and chopping acacia wood might be easier than digging dozens of stacks of sand. He misplaces a log and yells about it, then cheerfully informs new chatters that he is Skizz and he likes to freak out about NOTHING. He looks at the building and realizes that the office is too small inside. He has to knock out the back wall and build it out bigger. He sleeps again, then takes the opportunity to rip out the side as well to correct some subtle pattern troubles.

2:21:00 A chatter asks who built Skizz’s (as yet unboxed) new PC. Skizz admits it was awhile ago now and he doesn’t remember for sure, but he thinks the company was called Apex. He has more pattern trouble and blames Chat for letting him do that. It turns out that ripping out the wall did not solve the pattern problem but it also does not make it any worse. Skizz needs more wood. He heads for the desert.

2:27:00 Skizz arrives back at the desert and realizes he forgot his bed. He gets digging. It is much faster with his better shovel this time. He insists that Chat had better remind him to start recording when he gets back. He talks with Chat about the movie The Fifth Element. He finds a pillager raid and spends some sand to bury them. He forgot to bring his bow, but the sand works well enough. He talks with Chat about filming the 100th episode of the podcast. It’s going to be all about reflecting on what they’ve learned so far, and Skizz may or may not have indulged in some adult beverage during the filming. There will also be official Imp and Skizz merch coming out! Chat is excited.

2:36:00 Skizz admits that it might be faster to just chop wood at this point, but he’s already dug up all this sand! He and Impulse are both very proud of putting out 100 podcast episodes without ever missing a week. He muses that Doc is winning by making Skizz dig all this sand, and it is a situation that may require Poe Poe intervention. He finds a ruined portal and is pleased to learn that they come with a gold block, though this one’s chest has been looted. He digs quite a bit, just to make sure the chest is not hiding in secret. Chatters send him some nice messages. He talks about the nature of friendship, and how knowing that even the best friendships are subject to disagreements and distance can help you not to take people for granted. He is willing to consider the possibility that, after being friends over these 100 episodes, he and Impulse may end up being friends forever. Also, if someone wants to sue Doc again, Skizz is totally ready for it. He is also willing to be Doc’s lawyer!

2:44:00 Skizz talks about Mumbo’s pinky-training short and how funny it is. He is nearly done with his sand-digging now, but his shovel is also getting quite low. He talks with Chat about My Cousin Vinny and how great it is, and also that he has seen Rusty_Courage’s latest animatic and it is great. He packs up his shulkers and heads back for the shopping district. A chatter asks what his favorite Mel Brooks film is, it is Spaceballs.

2:48:30 Skizz repairs his shovel at the Bop N Go, but does not stay for the song. He forgets to hit the noteblock. Chat reminds him and he tells them that was a test for Chat. He gets more rockets (it has been a very rocket-heavy day) and heads back to Big Wood. A chatter asks if it’s really 111 degrees in Arizona, Skizz does not know because he hasn’t been outside in hours. A chatter’s young child asks if there will be more animated shorts, Skizz has none in the works but he wants to do more. He does Sand Math and buys twelve stacks of acacia, then heads back to the office.

2:54:10 Skizz turns the recording back on and keeps building his walls. Chat reminds him not to be late for his man-date with Tango and Impulse. While he works, he practices his elytra-bouncing technique and plays with the voice-changer. He particularly hates a song on the background track and frantically removes it. Chat declares Skizz is in a mood, he proudly declars himself “a mood.” He talks about the movie Speed and how it briefly made Young Skizz want to be a cop so he could do things like jump into buses from moving cars.

3:01:00 Skizz works on the top pattern row and goes to make his pillars. Chatters are commenting, rightly or wrongly, about pattern problems, but Skizz is in a hurry and has given up on caring about the pattern so much. He likes the sound of stripping acacia. He finishes and gets a long look with freecam, declaring that he actually does not hate it! He adds some more mud bricks to the floor for a better look at that and tells Chat he will terradorm later. Chat approves the building and says the hermits will make a builder of him yet.

3:07:50 Skizz finishes and stops recording, then corrects a few more stripping issues. He likes the whole thing in general and will be interested to see how the roof looks when it goes on. There’s a lot more to do, but he’s got to go out with some guys Chat may know, Eyem-puls-ave and Tingoo. He says he may stream tomorrow, then raids into Jojosolos and ends his stream.

[holmesxwatson]

The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes dir: Billy Wilder, 1970

I only watched The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes for the first time a few days ago but it lights my brain up in that special way that I know I’ll revisit it a lot. Don’t get me wrong, it’s far from perfect, for one thing Colin Blakely’s Watson is a little too shouty for me, but it’s very worthwhile to check out despite its shortcomings, which I think mostly come from the fact that so much was cut from the intended script.

I absolutely love Robert Stephens as Holmes. His face is so good, he has a way of looking at Watson when he doesn’t know he’s being observed that is very soft. I thought I was hallucinating the beginning of this movie with Holmes telling the ballet dancer he’s gay and in a relationship with Watson. I thought it was going to be played for a joke, and it was a bit, but it didn’t just end there. Holmes and Watson have a conversation about the repercussions in a lengthy scene that turns very serious by the end. I can’t believe this was 1970 and no one has since tried to build on this specific dynamic in a more meaningful way. Someone needs to remake this into a mini-series exactly how Billy Wilder intended it to be, here’s hoping public domain can make it so.

[above: script page from the cut story The Curious Case of the Upside Down Room, where Watson creates a fake case to make Holmes feel better]

Also, the backstory of the making of this film is so out of control: Robert Stephens’s nervous breakdown and suicide attempt during the production, the amount of years Billy Wilder was trying to write it and get it made, the interference of ACD’s son, the Loch Ness monster prop that the crew lost in actual Loch Ness, the immense scope of the episodic story they were going for, the way it got cut down from its original 3 hour 45 minute runtime and how that cut footage was lost forever! (this is crazy! everyone go check your attics and storage lockers right now).

In one of the interviews I found, Robert Stephens says “if something is boring — if it’s three minutes long it’s too long, but if it’s interesting it’s never long enough…you don’t want it to end.” Big same Toby Stephens’ dad, big SAME. I didn’t want it to end. I read the uncut script and I am just floored at what we missed out on. Thankfully some footage and audio remain of some of the cut scenes (but still! check your basements too).

Just fully let it settle into your brain that they filmed all of these stories in the script, and then cut most of it away. Like that is mind-blowing to me, it existed at one point as it was fully intended to be. If this was made now during home entertainment times, they would have no problem releasing an almost four-hour movie, but at the very least there would be a big director’s cut dvd release and we would be enjoying all the small Holmes x Watson moments we deserve.

Anyway, in pretty short order I found a bunch of interesting links to stuff, details below. I also consulted my very well-thumbed Conversations with Wilder book by Cameron Crowe, but there wasn’t that much more information in there. I have Robert Stephens’ memoir Knight Errant and the TPLOSH blu-ray on order so I’ll add to this post if I find any more good resources. Let me know if I’m missing anything, and enjoy!

Full movie on YouTube (x) <-update: this link went private, but it's also streaming for free on Tubi and Freevee, and available to rent on YouTube, Google Play, and Apple TV

Original roadshow draft of script on Internet Archive (x)

Missing footage: Prologue [sound only plus stills] (x), The Curious Case of the Upside Down Room [sound only plus stills] (x), The Dreadful Business of the Naked Honeymooners [footage and soundtrack only, no sound dialogue] (x), alternate ending [sound only] (x)

Making of documentary that includes behind-the-scenes snippets of some of the cut scenes [this doc is in German, but you can turn on the auto-translate to English in the YouTube settings] (x)

Interview with Ernst Walter, film editor of TPLOSH (x)

Interview with Christopher Lee “Mr. Holmes, Mr. Wilder” 2003 (x)

My YouTube playlist with all of the above links in one place plus an excellent fan vid by Just Bee that I added to the list because it’s just so good (x)

Missing Movies: A Case for Sherlock Holmes from 1994 BBC Radio 2 on Soundcloud [includes interview with Robert Stephens and folks involved in the production] (x)

Articles about the lost Loch Ness monster prop (x) (x)

The soundtrack by Miklós Rózsa (x)

[xxxninjaxxx23]

You brought the light I needed in my life

Part 3

Sam is struggling with her inner demons and tries to fight what she feels for Y/N. After an heated moment at the gym, Tara must step in and clean up her mess of a sister.

(Later that week)

(Tara’s pov) Well my hopes of getting Sam to talk to me about that night just went out the window. Almost a week has passed and I haven’t seen or heard from Y/N ever since that day I met them. When I asked Sam about it, she always said “It’s fine Tara, you have nothing to worry about.” Or “I’m ok Tara, I just needed some time to think.” She doesn’t even talk about Y/N period. Whenever we go eat with the others,she’d shoot a glare at us if we try to bring it up.

Anyways I got fed up and didn’t want to be around Sam today so I left and went to meet Anika in film class. When I got there and we shared a hug, we talked about our subjects and daily life issues, mine regarding Sam

“And she seems to be getting worse by the minute. Keeping herself locked in her room and won’t even say what’s going on with her or Y/N.” Anika took a sip of her drink

“Look, I get you’re trying to help and all but Tara, do you think you should be sticking your nose into someone else’s business even if they don’t want to talk about it? That’s so not cool.”

I rolled my eyes “Oh sure genius, I would leave her alone if she wasn’t keeping me up the last few nights with her crying. God she sounds like a humpback whale when she cries.” Anika nearly choked on her drink when she heard that. I patted her back as she started snickering

“That is so mean and funny at the same time. Tara carpenter, the all time savage when she needs to be.”

I shook my head “I don’t know what to do Ani. I can’t just leave her like this, even if it’s not my concern.” Anika nodded “Maybe just maybe. Sam will come around when she’s ready to talk, as for your ears. I have professional grade earplugs if you need them.”

I pull out my phone and check for texts “Ok, I might have to take those by tonight.” I said.

Meanwhile Samantha laid on her bed, hand clutched to her stomach as a result from the constant drinking.

(Sam’s pov) So I got a call from my boss saying that a new employee was currently in training and needed to be put on my shift for today but I will still be compensated for my hard work and able to go back tomorrow (hence why I love this job) only problem is, my stomachs been angry with me lately. What with all the drinking and the stress of avoiding Y/N, also Tara who won’t shut up about it.

I managed to climb out of bed and take a ginger ale candy before sitting on the couch watching a movie that Tara left on stream. ‘Sigh’ “And she used my credit card to buy the ultra high definition! Figures.” I wrote the amount on a piece of paper to tab that out of Tara’s pay later on.

While watching the movie, I got a few texts from Tara and….Y/N which I picked up and just sent a small text

“I’m fine, just watching a little tv.”

“ ‘Sigh’ no point in sitting here all day” I said, going to make breakfast before I hit the gym today. ‘Pretty much all I do, well before Y/N tried to crawl their way into my fucked up life. Honestly I’m doing them a favor no matter how I really feel.

(After breakfast)

After I ate, I sat down for about an hour, watching another one of Tara’s shows. I tripped over one of her shoes the last time Y/N was here. At first they thought I had a kid or another little baby sibling with me.

When I told them no and asked why, they said it was because of the “kids” size shoe I tripped over. I had a field day with that, telling them that it’s just Tara’s shoe and to never say that around her. It didn’t end well for me when I did that, she’s got teeth as sharp as a piranha.

(One hour later)

“Ok…I guess it’s time to hit the gym.” I put on my jacket and head out. The gym is one building away from my place and I could use the walk. I spoke too soon when an empty cup got thrown at me by a passing car halfway there.

“Yup like I said, I’m doing Y/N a favor.” I shook my head and kept my pace, going to the gym.

I set my bag and towel in my assigned locker then went to go for a run on the treadmill. I looked around the place a bit as I ran in place ‘good thing the gym isn’t too packed today’ I put my AirPods in my ears.

(Later)

After my run, I move over to the dumbbells and began lifting my usual weights (readers choice lol) I did a good amount of reps before moving onto the bench press. I decide to kick it up a notch and upgrade to the heavier weights than my usual.

I took the barbell off its stand and started my reps. I got off to a good start, what with the headphones blocking out small sounds or any creep trying to hit on me. I made it very clear that I’m uninterested in their company or conversations.

As I was in the zone, I spotted a familiar figure to my left, lifting dumbbells ‘no…no, it can’t be! Is that?’ I didn’t get a clear look as I lost my concentration, dropping the barbell on my chest “OW! Fuck!!!”

The figure, dropped their weights and went over to get the barbell of my chest “You ok Ma’am?” I nod and look up only to see they recognized me “Sam?! Omg this is a pleasant surprise.” I smiled sheepishly “heh heh. Yeah it sure is.”

After Y/N helped me, I decided to take a break and have a snack. Unfortunately they sat down next to me ‘Jesus Y/N. Why can’t you leave me alone?’ But I put on a smile and offered a protein bar and water for them. “So….fancy seeing you here” Y/N said. I scoffed a bit “I always come to this gym. What’s it to you?”

Y/N playfully put their hands up in surrender “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. Im just surprised I came to your rescue.”

“I could have gotten that off myself. I didn’t need your help.”

Y/N was a bit taken back by my blunt words “Sorry. I’ll um….stand back and let you do it next time?”

I felt my heart beat at a quick pace when that warm feeling came back to me. But before I could process my feelings to Y/N, I saw my father sitting beside them, grinning and making a knife gesture “Christ almighty why can’t you leave me the fuck alone!”

(Y/n’s pov) if I thought the last words were harsh, I’m surely mistaken. “Sam please-“ then she went off again “Everywhere I go, you’re there just watching me! Trying to hover over me when I don’t want you to!” I was a bit confused “Sam what? You were the one who approached-“

“Shut up just shut the hell up for one fucking second! I….can’t even live a good life with you always there in my shadow just breathing In my damn presence, wasting my own breath and energy talking to you!” I felt my heart tear up a bit but before I could speak again, Sam went for the kill

“You….useless….sack of SHIT! You and your little legacy, everything! I hate it all I just can’t…..I hate you. I HATE YOU!!!!! If you’re done sitting there you can “kindly” get out of my sight, get out of my life completely, before I do something I won’t regret!” My heart was now shattered into pieces completely and Sam just tossed the remains in the trash can.

I felt a bit of anger rise up in me. Nodding “I get it Sam. I get the message loud and clear that I’m not wanted anymore. Thank you so much for yelling at me just to drive home the point!” I got up and tossed my snack in the trash can “Well fuck you then! Have a nice life Sam.” I stormed out of the break room, slamming the door.

(Sam’s pov) I flinched. In all my yelling at Billy, I completely forgot Y/N was still sitting there in the crossfire. I quickly got up and bolted for the door “Y/N wait!” As I was running I felt my ankle catch on one of the bleachers legs, spraining it.

Shaking the pain off, I limped towards the door “Y/N wait! Hold on!! As I opened the door, I saw them already walking out the front entrance. “Y/N! P-please.” They turned around to look at me one last time but I couldn’t bring myself to speak which they sighed and closed the door.

I dropped to my knees, staring at the wall ‘What have I done….’

(Outside)

I needed my place of comfort right now. I promised Tara I wouldn’t do it again but I’m really desperate at this point. I put on my jacket and helmet, then started up my motorcycle. Tara gave me a speaker for my birthday and attached it to the motorcycle. Might as well put it to some use. I hit shuffle and let it play from there as I tore down the road.

(Later that night)

(Tara’s pov) “Damn it no! How did you get past me!” I gripped the switch controller a bit. Chad chuckled, taking a sip of water “Sorry guys, I don’t know why I’m so good at this game.”

“Mario kart 8 is fun but it hurts my fingers” Anika said. “Um babe you know there’s an auto drive setting you can set up.” Mindy said.

I shook my head “And where’s the fun in that? I think the regular mode is good on your fingers. Makes it feel like your pressing down on the gas pedal in real life.”

Anika started selecting another level “Hey maybe that’s how Chad beat you T. As far as I can see, his thumbs aren’t red like yours. Ouch.”

Tara grumbled, fishing money out of her wallet to give to Chad for winning. “Wow you’re betting money from your girlfriend on Mario kart? That’s low, even for you peabrain.” Mindy said.

Chad whipped around, slightly embarrassed “Hey we both agreed on it right Tara!” I nodded “See? Plus I promised her I’d be a good boy in-“

“OK we don’t need to know that!” Mindy said throwing a chip at Chad which he surprisingly caught in his mouth. “Too slow.” He said which Mindy threw the finger before turning toward her girlfriend“Just start the game my love.”

‘Sigh’ Of course. Out of all the races, Anika had to go and pick rainbow road. No phobic of corse but this stage is so unbelievably hard, especially when my controller is stuck in “motion” control just because the sticks are broken.

While starting the course, I’m already in 11th place because pretty boy had to go and knock me off the course by “accident” when we started. Halfway through the race, I got a bit used to the controls but I’m still dreading on my wallet being eaten up again by Chad.

Luckily I was saved when my phone rang “Guys pause it please.” to which they did “Hello?”

“Yes is this Tara Carpenter?” The voice said ‘Oh great, I already know who this is.’

I clear my throat “Yes Stan it’s me. What’s wrong you seem upset.” Stan laughed a little “Upset. You’re goddamn right I am!! ‘Sigh’ Look, can you please come down here and get your sister? She’s already at it again, causing another scene in my bar and lashing out at my customers. I’m already 5 seconds away from calling the cops!

I pinched the bridge of my nose scoffing in disgust “Ok just hang tight, I’ll be right over.” Before hanging up.

‘Damn it Sam can I have one day, just ONE day of not taking care of you?!’ I shook my head, grabbing my jacket from Chad’s room. “Guys, I gotta head out. As munch as I want to keep playing, I have to go get Sam…..again.”

They nodded their heads, understanding what I meant “Alright love, do you want me to give you a ride there and back?” Chad asked. I shook my head “Thanks for the offer babe but I have a feeling Sam drove her motorcycle there. No way I’m letting her drive that deathtrap home by herself.”

“T do you even know how to ride a motorcycle?” Mindy said, giggling. I folded my arms “I do too, know how to operate a motorcycle Minds! Quinn and I used to sneak it out a couple of times when Sam was asleep” though she did most of the driving.

Chad smiled and gave me a peck before leaving “Be careful out there. Call me when you get back.”

I nod “Will do, love you Chad.”

(Later)

(Sam’s pov) “Had enough drinking your sorrows and throwing a tantrum for one day?” He said, sitting next to me “Not until you’re finally cleared of my conscience forever, maybe then I’ll be at peace.”

He “rubbed” my back “Well somebody’s got to. Otherwise you’d be just like your mother going down her path instead of facing your problems head on.”

I picked my head up and threw a glass at him, which passed and hit the wall. “You ever start to think that YOU’RE the reason I can’t have a relationship or any friends?! Another person down the drain because you had to show up and ruin it!”

He laughed a bit “Sweetie I was only trying to warn you to be careful. You didn’t have to go screaming at the both of us.” God, why do I even bother with him. Then a bunch of cameras flashed me in the face

“Samantha carpenter? Gale weathers here questioning your take on the latest murders in woodboro. Do you think Ghostface will follow you to the big apple or have you become-?”

I spit on her “Your about to see another Ghostface if you don’t get the hell out my face!!” I shoved the cameraman towards her. She scoffed and walked away, good riddance.

I angrily stumbled over to the table and slumped on it once again, closing my eyes for a bit and ready to knock out the next person that bothers me. I was having a good slumber until I felt a hand on my shoulder “Sam.”

(Tara’s pov) The next thing I knew I saw a fist fly right at my face, hitting me in the jaw. ”Ow! What the fuck Sam?!” Then she fell to the floor “Shit! I’m sorry, I’m very sorry Tara. I didn’t know that was y-you.” I held my slightly bruised jaw

“Just get the fuck up, right now!” Sam “quickly” picked herself off the floor throwing her arms around me, crying down my shoulder. “Please, forgive me….I’m sorry Tara I’m so sorry that I’m such a fuck up and a sorry excuse of a sister!”

Oh good god she reeks of alcohol! “Sam. Would you PLEASE get off of me! I’m not mad just….fuck! I can’t even talk to you right now or breathe!” I pushed Sam off for relief “I want you to go outside and wait by the bike, I’m driving us home.”

Sam tearfully nodded, handing me the keys. “I’ll meet you out there in a few minutes.” I said before she stumbled out the front door.

Stan was sweeping up the floors before giving me a look “I’m gonna permanently ban her if she can’t control her temper in here. That’s the third time this week. You better see to it that you have a LONG talk with her!”

I rolled my eyes “You want a tip? Keep your nose out of other people’s business and stop giving them more than they already had!” before leaving to meet Sam outside.

As I found the bike with the key, I see Sam throwing up her drinks behind it “You done sis?” I said patting her back.

“Mhm….mmm so tired.”

I got on the motorcycle and turned the key “Come on then. I’ll put a movie on at home and you can go to sleep.” Sam coughed a bit before handing me her helmet “Here….put this on. I don’t have a spare but I always put your safety over mine.” I sighed a bit before feeling her arms wrap around my waist

“Are you sure you know ‘hic’ how to drive this t-thing?” I scoffed “Yes. I do actually. I um, looked up a video before coming here. Let’s just go home sis, you’re already wearing me out.”

Sam nuzzled her face into the back of my neck as I took off.

(One motorcycle ride later)

(Sam’s pov) I can’t say how impressed I am with Tara’s motorcycle skill. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was sneaking it out from the garage every night, that girl always likes to get into trouble.

As I got off the bike, I waked a few steps before suddenly falling to the ground. Looks like my ankle is more swollen from putting too much pressure on it earlier. I tried looking for something to help me walk but I found nothing.

Seeing no other option I carefully pick myself up and kept my balance leaning on the railings before it ran out. “Sam! You ok?” Tara said, noticing that I wasn’t making any progress.

“I’m fine sis. I’ll catch up.”

Tara shook her head and walked over to me, turning around and cupping her hands “Hop on, I’ll get us up there.”

“Tara no. I’m too-“

“Will you just get on my back?!”

I smiled a bit “Well….alright then.” As I gently got on Tara’s back, she hoisted me up quicker and held onto my legs.

I got worried when Tara had to lean forward a lot just to keep her balance, I felt terrible that she has to do this. “Tara please just let me-“

“Sam would you stop being so stubborn and let me take the wheel in our relationship? You always put yourself before others but never let them return the favor, just let me as your sister help you just this once.” Tara said as she headed for the stairs since the elevator is broken.

‘Sigh’ “Just tell me if you getting tired.”

Tara nodded as she prepared to climb up 7 flights of stairs….with me on her back!

(7 flights later)

(Tara’s pov) Not a lot of people know this, but I got a really strong back. So strong that I actually won an award for being able to carry so many items on my back as I walked without any aches. Unfortunately I got the nickname “Pack mule” from the other students for the rest of my high school life, but I proudly carry that title with pride and dignity to this day.

As I dropped Sam on the couch, I sat down next to her and peeled off my shoes and socks, sighing in relief from the soft carpet. I wasn’t expecting to carry Sam up seven flights of stairs, my poor legs and feet.

“All I know is, you owe me another foot massage, a really good one too. Oh my poor aching toes, having to carry such a heavy load.” Sam threw a grape at me “Hey, you wanted to carry me the whole way here, ask Chad to massage your gnome feet.” She said, smirking.

I threw Sam the finger before gesturing her to lay her head on my lap. “Come on. It’s time to tell the doctor what’s wrong.”

Sam crossed her arms, sitting up “Very funny sis. I already told you everything’s-“ I slapped my hand over her mouth

“BEFORE you finish that sentence, let me remind you that this is the THIRD time I had to drop everything and get you home. Even after you promised me that you wouldn’t be drinking your pain away again! You either tell me what’s going on or I’ll go throw myself onto an oncoming train tomorrow.

Sam glared at me “You wouldn’t fucking dare! You know I won’t be the same without you.”

I smirked “Think I’m bluffing? Just try me!”

Sam punched the table “Fine….Fine! You really want to know what’s going on in my fucked up life, Y/N?!” She took a breather “You really think you can help me, can you?”

I looked at Sam in offense “I’m your sister. Siblings are supposed to help each other out, even if it’s problems like this.”

Sam gave me a small hug before placing her head into my lap “Ok, listen….about Y/N”

[theteasetwrites]

The Dixon Problem

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 (The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning series) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: swearing, mild violence ❧ Word Count: 5k

❧ Summary: Not everyone is happy with the Dixons’ presence in the camp, especially Shane. When things go haywire, the only solution is a compromise, and to let Daryl know you care.

❧ A/N: I realize I’m posting this after a weird little argument over the ethics of zooming in on a man’s crotch but here we are. This is a fanfiction blog, believe it or not. Anyway, here’s another fic set in the same universe as The Beginning (I really like doing these ok), and this one takes place between Chapter 4 and Chapter 5. I really wanted to do some oneshots that would’ve happened before they got together because idk it just seems to cool to read about them before they kissed at the CDC and sort of build up to that. I find it fun to hint at their burgeoning attraction to one another, and how they’re both kind of in denial about their little crushes lol. We all know it was love at first sight. Also I loved writing Daryl fighting with Shane it was so fun. Daryl should’ve punched Shane in the show don’t @ me.

A deep huff escaped your lips as the back of your hand wiped the dripping sweat from your brow. The sun was a few hours from setting, but Georgia summers were unforgiving, and even a setting sun would prove to be dangerous if you didn’t hydrate.

Taking a sip of water from the crinkly plastic bottle, you watched Lori skillfully sew up the rips in one of Shane’s shirts. It was a skill you had neglected, but at one point, you were pretty good with a machine. Hand sewing was something else entirely.

“You’re so good at that,” you said. “How’d you learn?”

Lori smiled as she looked at you, staring in awe. “My mom sewed, my granny sewed, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my great granny sewed, too.”

“That’s sweet… Maybe you could teach me sometime?”

“Sure, but I thought you were trying to get Mr. Crossbow to teach you how to hunt?” She spoke with a crooked smile, on the verge of laughing. You failed to see what was so funny, frankly.

But mostly, you were embarrassed. The warm blush on your cheeks and the butterflies doing somersaults in your belly betrayed you, though you just pretended none of it was there.

“Well, he, uh, said I should learn how to fight first. He said he’d teach me that, though.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm… Why are you laughing?”

Lori lowered her head until her hair covered her face, but you heard a few snorts and giggles from beneath the dark curtain.

“You’re so cute,” she said. “That’s all.”

“Cute? Why am I cute?”

“You just are…” She leaned closer to speak in a quiet voice. “I bet Daryl thinks you’re really cute.”

You scoffed, trying to laugh it off as you awkwardly nudged her shoulder with yours. “Stop. That’s not funny. Not true, either. I think he finds me annoying.”

“Oh, really?” she asked. “What about the little rock he cracked open for you? That doesn’t sound like the actions of a man who’s annoyed.”

That “little rock” was now your prized possession. You had one half, and you’d let Daryl keep the other. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you. That rock was a geode, something your father would’ve added to his extensive collection. Maybe you were thinking too much into it, and maybe it was cliché, but you liked to think that it represented the last beautiful thing in the world. You kept it by your cot, on full display so it was the first thing you saw each morning. Sometimes, the translucent purple shards would catch the new light that streamed through your tent in just the most perfect way.

“He was just being nice,” you said. “Daryl’s… really nice. I mean, he’s a little… grumpy, but he’s got a good heart. I can tell. I wouldn’t have brought him here if I didn’t think so.”

Before Lori could respond with another teasing quip, you both flinched at the sound of Daryl, the man you were just talking, and thinking a little too deeply, about. His voice was raised, one decibel away from being a yell. It sounded like it was coming from the center of camp, near Dale’s RV, so you both jogged over, anxious to see whatever was causing Daryl to yell a series of curse words and a few other words you couldn’t yet make out.

“Stupid cop!” you heard, now getting closer. “Who the hell do ya think you are?! This ain’t Miami Vice.”

You stumbled upon Daryl, with his chest puffed up and his hands moving vigorously along with his hostile words, in some kind of argument with Shane, who only shook his head with his hands on his waist as the bowman hurled insults his way.

“Listen, Dixon,” replied Shane, who was visibly also beginning to lose his temper, “we gotta maintain some order ‘round here. Now, I don’t give a shit ‘bout what you and your white trash redneck brother used to get up to in bumfuck nowhere, but there’s women and kids here, and I don’t want this shit ‘round ‘em.”

Oh, noble Shane, you thought to yourself, but then again, you still had no idea what the men were arguing about, so maybe he had a point. Still, you did take some issue to being compared to a child, but you weren’t about to jump in the middle of a fight between two burly, hotheaded men for the sake of feminism.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?! It ain’t nothin’, Merle goes off into the woods to do it! Ain’t no women or children gonna get hurt. You’re just as stupid as you look, Columbo.”

“It ain’t them seein’ the drugs I’m worried about,” Shane replied, getting closer to Daryl until their chests were nearly touching. “It’s you and your ugly ass brother.”

Drugs? You knew Merle had a stash of drugs, including crystal meth, and most others figured it based on, well, everything about him, but you didn’t think Shane would pick a fight with Daryl over it. Maybe Merle himself, but not Daryl. Merle wasn’t even there that day, having taken his turn to go hunting, though he never brought back nearly as much as his brother. You weren’t sure if it was because Merle wasn’t a very good hunter, or because he just didn’t care enough to bring back food for your group, but either way, it was clear which brother was better.

“Man, that’s bullshit,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at Shane. “You wanna see a threat then look in the mirror. There’ll be a big arrogant prick starin’ back at ya.” Daryl punctuated his sentence by shoving the other man backwards, but before Daryl could strut away as he planned, Shane shoved him back.

“Watch yourself,” Daryl warned, voice low and raspy. “I don’t want your pig blood on my hands.”

He tried to brush past Shane, but the man was fuming. He shoved Daryl back once more, knocking him to the ground.

A puff of dirt swallowed his body as you let out a small gasp of disbelief. No one in the group had gotten physical with anyone like this yet. Maybe it was only a matter of time before it happened. After all, a group of several strangers under incredible physical and mental stress in the middle of the end of the world was a recipe for disaster, but you’d hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon.

All you could register was the sound of Daryl’s grunting before he sprung back up to sock Shane across the face, disorienting him. He soon struck back, but Daryl ducked and delivered a blow to Shane’s stomach.

Shane had managed to deliver a few blows of his own, but at this point, all you could focus on was thinking of a way to break them up without getting hurt yourself.

“H-hey!” you shouted out, along with Lori and several other women who’d gathered around, yelling to the men to stop. “Stop it!”

Dale was frantically climbing down the ladder of the RV, then greeted the scene with wide eyes. “Hey, hey! Break it up!” He managed to get his arms between the two of them, but he could only keep Shane back. Daryl even tried to get around Dale so he could deliver one last blow to Shane’s face, but T-Dog came up behind and pinned the enraged man’s arms back.

“Get offa me!” he yelled to T-Dog, then turned his attention back to Shane. “I’m gonna beat your ass, you hear me, bacon bits?!”

Dale stood between them, holding his hands out to keep them both at bay. Their chests swelled with heavy, panting breaths as their faces molded into their own unique scowls. Shane’s was terrifying, much more than Daryl’s. His dark brown eyes didn’t need to narrow at all, they were just as terrifying in their wideness. His mouth wasn’t agape, it was sealed shut as the breaths pumped out of his flared nostrils. He stood completely still, like a ticking time bomb. You’d never been more terrified of the man.

Daryl paced back and forth for a few feet on each side of him, his face much more natural looking, but still enraged. At least you could make some sense of Daryl in his anger. He didn’t send a shiver down your spine like Shane did. Well, and maybe you were a little partial to Daryl now, since he’d shown you kindness. In any case, the awkward silence that permeated the stiff, humid air was excruciating.

“Just calm down,” panted Dale, arms still outstretched between them. “What the hell is going on here?”

Shane huffed before speaking. “I was just tryin’ to have a civil conversation about the drug use goin’ on in this camp.”

“Drug use?” questioned Lori. “No, no way. No drugs, not around the kids. That’s the last thing we need right now.”

Daryl turned to look at Lori, not with anger, but confusion. He seemed troubled, unable to reconcile something in his head. His eyes squinted shut as he wiped his nose, which had just begun to bleed from the punch. He spat a glob of pinkish saliva onto the dirt ground, then turned back to face Shane.

“Talk to Merle,” was all he said. His voice was quieter now, almost timid, but still with an air of defensiveness.

He turned back again, in the direction of his tent. You met his glance for a moment, at which point he seemed to stop in his tracks. His foot backstepped, flashes of blue still on you until they averted to the ground. When he regained his focus, he moved quicker, more determined. Still, his confidence seemed drained after he looked your way, but all you could pay attention to now was Shane, who was walking directly towards you, huffing and puffing.

“What the hell were you thinkin’, bringin’ those meth heads here, huh? You stupid or somethin’? I thought you were some kinda… librarian.” He ended his sentence with a sarcastic chuckle.

Before you could respond, Lori spoke up, and thank God she did. You were still petrified by Shane’s aggression, and Lori knew him from before the fall. Maybe he’d actually listen to her.

“Stop it, Shane,” she scolded in an almost motherly tone. Fitting, since the argument between him and Daryl seemed more like that of children than two grown men in their thirties. “It’s done. No point in arguing about it.”

For your part, you took a moment to collect your thoughts, then spoke to Shane with as much bravado as you could muster. “It’s because of Daryl that we’re not starving to death,” you said.

Dale stepped forward, hand outstretched slightly to gesture towards you. “That’s a good point, but what about the drugs?”

You shook your head profusely. “I don’t know anything about any drugs.” That wasn’t true, you knew Merle was getting high, and that he was a dealer, but that honestly didn’t matter to you much at this point. As far as you were concerned, everything that had ever separated the human race from each other was out the window. Drug addicts were no different from Mormons now. Granted, Merle could be unpredictable, and you hated him, frankly, but Daryl and Merle seemed like a package deal, so you’d have to deal with both of them if your group was to reap the benefits of having a skilled hunter.

Plus, you might’ve fostered a bit of admiration for him. Friendly admiration, of course.

“Well, I just ain’t havin’ no crystal meth in this camp,” replied Shane. “And I’m about this close to killin’ your buddy, so’s as far as I’m concerned, this is your problem to solve if you wanna keep them here.”

Diplomacy wasn’t your strong suit, but if it kept Shane from kicking out the Dixon’s, you’d try your best to find some common ground.

“Compromise,” Dale said with a nod. “(Y/N), you should talk to Daryl, ask him to talk some sense into Merle when he gets back to camp. We give them shelter, they get rid of the drugs.”

It sounded more like an ultimatum than a compromise, but you were perhaps the only person who’d had any meaningful contact with the slightly more tolerable brother, so you put aside your reservations to head to the Dixons’ camp, several yards away from the rest of the group.

He was on one knee as he chopped the head off a squirrel on the sawed log he was using as a butcher block. The sound of the axe slicing through the flesh and digging into the wood was so powerful that you flinched, alerting the hunter to your presence.

Though he didn’t look your way. He simply set aside the axe and continued skinning the creature as if you weren’t there.

“You want a piece of me, too, woman?” he asked. “Whatever you gotta say, I ain’t in the mood.”

You bit your lip as you stood still, thinking of what to say. Daryl was tricky, you knew that. Sometimes he was nice to you, and sometimes he wanted nothing to do with you. No one in the camp knew how to deal with him, really. You only knew a little because you somehow found yourself trying to ingratiate yourself with him, but why? You still weren’t exactly sure.

“May I sit down?” you blurted out, thinking that might be the first step to talking to him.

He looked up at you then, with a suspicious glare.

“Why?”

Just as you were still trying to get used to talking to him, he was still trying to get used to your desire to talk to him in the first place. Why would a woman like you want anything to do with a man like him, anyway? Surely you had an ulterior motive, though he couldn’t deny there was something genuinely kind and soft about your face. Maybe even, dare he say, pretty? Not just physically, though he was painfully aware of that, but through and through, you were quite lovely. Well, that’s how it seemed, anyway.

Merle always said that women couldn’t be trusted, that if they weren’t childlike and dumb, they were manipulative and cunning. Nothing else, nothing in between. Of course, Daryl had a hard time believing that. People weren’t that simple, and Merle’s authority on the topic of women was questionable at best. Still, old habits die hard, and maybe he was just a little skeptical of your intentions. After all, no woman or man had ever shown this much interest in talking to him.

Daryl was, for all intents and purposes, a loser. He still felt like one, though he had to admit, when you brought him to your camp, insisting that your group needed him, he did feel a small sense of real, genuine pride, for the first time in his life. Maybe he had something to offer, something good he could do. Maybe you really wanted him there, and he wasn’t just a loser with a bad temper and a meth head brother.

His deeply ingrained insecurity, though, told him otherwise, and that you were only kind to him because of what he could offer your group, not because you actually appreciated him. But then again, the rest of the group had all but ignored him since he arrived, and you were the one who’d spoken more than five words to him at a time. That had to mean something, right?

“I want to talk to you,” you said simply. “So, can I?”

He chewed his lip as he looked you up and down, as if inspecting you. Wordlessly, he nodded, then lowered his head again to focus on the mutilated squirrel.

As you cleared your throat, you sat yourself on a dinky camping chair across from the fire pit. Both of you were silent for a little while, with only the sounds of flesh tearing from the muscle of the little furry critters Daryl was skinning. You watched with furrowed brows, though at a certain point, you had to stop looking, otherwise you’d get a little woozy, so you lifted your gaze to the top of Daryl’s head, covered in short, choppy brown hair.

Surprisingly, just before you were about to say something, Daryl spoke first. “I ain’t no meth head,” he said abruptly. “I don’t touch that shit.” Not anymore, he thought, but something stopped him. Could it be… embarrassment? Maybe shame. All he knew was there was a part of him that cared what you thought, for some odd reason. He’d trained himself not to give a damn about anything, though it was in his nature to. Why was your presence bringing out his sensitivity? It was a blessing and a curse. It hurts to care, he’d always thought. Nothing good could come of it. He cared once, before he knew how cruel people could be.

“I never said you did.”

“S’what you all think,” he replied. “Y’all think I’m some kinda… stupid redneck bastard.” Wouldn’t be wrong, a voice inside him retorted.

“I don’t think that.”

He finally raised his eyes again, glowering at you. “You will.”

It shouldn’t have hurt you, but it did, just a little bit. “I bet you I won’t.”

He shook his head and stood up to retrieve the red rag that was often dangling from his back pocket. Wiping his hands, he nodded towards you. “What’d ya really come over ‘ere for? They send ya over to kick me out?”

You shook your head immediately. “No, no. Not at all. Just… You need to tell Merle to quit with the drugs.”

Daryl scoffed, almost a laugh. “Askin’ Merle to give up crystal’s like askin’ him to cut off his own hand. ‘Sides, ya don’t think I’ve tried? Ain’t no use in it. Might as well jus’ kick us to the curb ‘cause it ain’t gonna happen.”

His apathy frustrated you, and you let out an exasperated, now quite irritated, puff of air. “So you’d rather live out in the woods by yourselves than in a group, with people who will look out for you?”

“None of these people will look out for me,” he scoffed.

“Well, I would.”

He looked your way again, this time not suspicious, but confused. “Why’d ya bring me and Merle here in the first place? All ya got to show for it is bein’ yelled at and bossed around by that asshole Shane.” He spat the man’s name out in obvious distaste.

“I told you,” you said, “I thought you would be able to help us… And you saved me. I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for you.”

He lowered his head again, busying himself by cleaning between his fingers with the rag in the hopes of distracting you from the obvious blush on his cheeks. When he didn’t respond, you realized you hadn’t asked him a similar question.

“Why’d you save me, anyway?” you asked, your voice a little more quiet, as if afraid of him even hearing it.

After all, you were a complete stranger, why should he have helped you? What you knew from human nature was that people often only helped others if they knew there was something in it for them. True altruism was hard to come by, and often not evolutionarily beneficial. Those who helped others and put themselves in danger often died out before their lineage could carry on. Well, that was your vague memories of anthropology class resurfacing, but it still applied.

Indeed, you yourself hadn’t been acting out of true altruism. You had decided to bring Merle and Daryl into the fold because they were hunters, and they could benefit your group by providing your people sustenance. But Daryl’s motivations were less clear.

He swallowed hard as thought for a moment, himself now forced with the reality of facing that question. Why did he help you?

For the next several moments, he transported himself to that day just a month ago, when he was trudging around in the woods outside Atlanta, listening to Merle ramble on about some drunken memory, a relic of his “glory days” that he seemed unable to forget about. They had no destination, no idea where they were going. They’d tried the refugee center in the city, but that had been overrun about as soon as it was set up. Merle was quite content to rough it, and so was Daryl, so long as there weren’t flesh-eating monsters roaming around.

When he heard the rather faint sound of a woman screaming, somewhere ahead in the maze of aspen trees dotting the humid forest, something in him switched, and though he remembered the muffled sound of Merle’s protesting, all he could hear at the time was the scream getting closer and closer.

Soon he was in a small clearing, setting sight on a decrepit creature. Below it were two squirming legs, belonging to the screaming woman who was just inches away from becoming something’s lunch.

Without hesitation, he lifted his bow to shoot, snagging the creature in the head until it fell less than gracefully onto your chest. Pushing the body off, you faced him, mouth panting and eyes hazy with tears.

He tried to think of what he thought then, but it was difficult to put himself in that position again. He only remembered your face, how scared you were. You seemed so fragile, and yet somehow brave enough to look him in the eye. Most of all, you were peculiar to him, different from anyone or anything he’d seen before. Of course, there was nothing particularly strange looking about you, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. You were just… special, with a calming aura of warmth around you, something he was instinctively drawn to for whatever reason.

So, how was he supposed to explain that? You seemed special, important, warm… Creepy. He knew that would’ve sounded creepy. He was already embarrassed from Shane’s display earlier, and his stomach stung to think of you seeing that cop strike him across the face, to appear weak. Once again, he wondered why he cared in the first place.

He finally settled for a somewhat satisfactory explanation. “S’just what people do.”

Indeed, he would’ve done it for anyone. That wasn’t the issue Daryl struggled with, he knew right from wrong, for the most part. He struggled with understanding why you looked at him the way you did, and why he found himself wanting to keep you safe even after the creature attacking you was long dead.

At least you seemed happy with that answer, as one corner of your lips upturned into a small smile. “Well, I am sure some people wouldn’t have done anything. I’m really grateful… And I really don’t want you to go. Merle… I will put up with him if it means you stay here, but if you could please talk to him, try to get him to at least hide the drugs better and maybe go further away from camp to do it, I’d be even more grateful.”

Though he had no idea how he was going to get Merle to agree to changing anything about himself, he couldn’t deny that you were convincing. Something about your wide, almost pleading eyes. Somehow, making you happy seemed to make him happy, too.

“I’ll try,” he said. “But I ain’t promisin’ anything. Merle don’t care ‘bout what I got to say.”

“Well, he should,” you said as you stood to your feet. “He’s your brother… I have a brother, too. We used to talk all the time, though we sort of lost touch before all this.” You gestured around vaguely, ending your sentence with a small nervous chuckle.

Daryl almost didn’t speak, didn’t want to ask what he was thinking, but the look on your face as your lips began to droop and your eyes became vague made him wonder if maybe you needed to talk about it.

“Where is he?” he asked simply, though he immediately began to regret it when he noticed you shifting awkwardly where you stood. “I mean… I, uh… Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you replied with a shake of your head. “No, it’s fine. He’s, well… I don’t know where he is. Last time we talked he was in Atlanta. Actually, that’s why I was headed there when it happened.”

“It’s okay,” you replied with a shake of your head. “No, it’s fine. He’s, well… I don’t know where he is. Last time we talked he was in Atlanta. Actually, that’s why I was headed there when it happened.”

It seemed to be a universally agreed upon signifier. The fall, the turn, the apocalypse, the plague… Everyone called it something different, but what it all came down to was The End, or The Beginning, depending on who you asked.

“Sorry,” was all he could reply, though he found himself going further, speaking more than he normally would’ve. “Hope he’s all right.”

That meant more to you than anything anyone had ever said to you since the world turned. You hadn’t told anyone about your brother, and you weren’t sure why you decided to tell Daryl, but it felt right. In a world where everything was suddenly wrong, lots of things still felt right, all of which had to do with him. Strange.

“Thank you. I do too. He means a lot to me… I’m sure your brother means a lot to you, too, so I understand why you care so much about him. He’s lucky to have you as a brother.”

If Daryl wasn’t so strangely calmed by your presence in this moment, he might’ve protested to the assertion that Merle meant a lot to him, but he supposed he really did, whether or not Daryl liked it.

As he shifted his shoulders, he raised his hand to scratch his neck, chewing the inside of his bottom lip all the while. The unique little nervous mannerisms he had were already becoming part of your ever-growing encyclopedia of quirks Daryl displayed, and you had to say you found that quite endearing. Indeed, you truly felt that Daryl could become a friend. You wanted him to be a friend.

It reminded you that Daryl spent almost all of his time alone. Whenever Merle was gone or at the edge of camp getting up to his illicit activities, Daryl was by himself. You figured he had to get lonely, and surely the sole company of a man like Merle would eventually drive him insane, even if he was his brother.

“Daryl?” you asked, moving closer as you tried to telepathically direct his gaze up at you.

He did, and a flash of silvery blue eyes that caught little sparkles of light from the sun looked up at you. His eyes were quite deep set and narrow, making them seem at first glance to be cold and uninviting, but that wasn’t really the case at all. Now that you saw them in full view, there was mystery there, something waiting to be revealed. You had a feeling whatever it was, it was something lovely. Your curiosity made you eager to get to the bottom of it.

“Yeah?”

Even the strange softness of his often rough, gravelly voice struck you. As he licked his chapped lips, you found yourself trailing your eyes to his light stubble, sparse on his cheeks but more concentrated around his lips, which weren’t particularly full, but beautifully sculpted as if by delicate, intentional little hands. You found his face much more tolerable than his brother’s. Handsome, even. Perhaps not an A-list Hollywood movie star (certainly no one so clean-cut as Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt, both of whom you had at one point hung posters of on your closet door in the mid-nineties) but he had been blessed with good proportions and a pleasant visage that you only dwelled on for a moment until your subconsciousness took the image into its darkest recesses. The last thing you needed to do today was to admire a man’s physical appearance, though it did tempt you for just a few seconds. Maybe a few more.

“You should really join us for dinner tonight,” you said. “You know, around the fire… Dale’s going to make something special. I have no idea what, he says it’s a surprise.”

When his breath seemed to hitch and his muscles flexed in seemingly anxious response, you quickly tried to explain yourself. “I mean, I know it’s awkward, with the Shane thing… but Shane has watch during dinner tonight. Maybe you can just… talk to me, and Dale, Andrea, Amy, Glenn, Jacqui… We all sort of congregate, talk a little bit. I’m sure they’d like to get to know you more.”

He found himself wondering how to respond, how to tell you that he hated talking, especially to people he hardly knew. Then again, he liked talking to you. That was clear to him.

“Maybe… I dunno.”

Though you didn’t want to pressure him, it was hard not to try to convince him. You were shy sometimes, too, but the older you got, the more you realized that you needed people, and that couldn’t be more evident than right now, when people were hard to come by.

“All we have is each other,” you said. “You told me that the world’s never gonna be like how it was, and you’re right. We should never take people for granted anymore.”

He’d never wrap his head around the way you spoke sometimes, how you could be so articulate and intelligent, and at other times, so high-strung or bubbly or aloof… You were about as hard to read to him as he was to you.

“I’ll try,” was all he replied.

“That’s all that matters.”

When he briefly lurked around the fire that night, exchanging a few brief words with Dale and Andrea (and you, of course), you felt like you’d gotten somewhere further with the temperamental hunter.

He didn’t stay for long, and hardly ate any of Dale’s “mushroom mash,” but it was something, and though the day started with a fight between Shane and Daryl, it ended with the latter feeling just a little more welcome.

Most of all, you had no regrets about bringing Daryl Dixon to your camp. You had a feeling it was the right thing to do.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Masterlist

[nyoomfruits]

magic au .....!!!

magic au was me turning to one of my favorite tropes ever in times of really struggling so badly with writing lmao anyway the idea is magic haunted building tries to get two people to finally confess their feelings for each other by doing some. seriously questionable shit.

IN THIS CASE it's basically. oscar has a crush on lando. oscar is also a witch. anyway his MAGIC decides it's time for lando and oscar to finally get their shit together and tries to achieve this by. turning lando's driver's room against him???? (magic is weird). basically weird shit keeps happening in lando's drivers room which means lando is forced to spend time in oscar's drivers room (maybe the magic is onto something here). anyway here's the opening scene, for funsies :)

It starts, ironically enough, with a bang.

Lando has just said goodbye to Oscar in the little hallway of the McLaren motorhome, getting a small wave and a close mouthed little smile from Oscar before he’d ducked into his driver’s room, Lando disappearing into his own. His phone is on 10%, and they still have a ton of media duties before they to leave the track, so he grabs his charger, plugs in his phone-

The horrible fluorescent light above him explodes with a loud bang and a flurry of sparks as the whole room suddenly plunges into darkness.

Lando yelps, jumps back, trips over something on the floor and falls down in a flail of limbs, which is how Oscar finds him barely two seconds later, door of Lando’s driver’s room slamming open with a loud bang.

“Lando,” Oscar says, a little frantically. He’s standing in the doorway, backlit by the light still streaming in from the hallway, and Lando’s first thought is, ‘huh, he kind of looks like an angel’ followed very closely by ‘oh my god do I have a concussion’.

“I’m fine,” Lando says, struggling to untangle himself from the stack of race suits he’s somehow found himself in. Oscar steps over, sticks out his hand, hoists him back on his feet. “Thanks.”

“What happened?” Oscar asks, glancing up at Lando’s exploded lamp. It seems fine, except for the fact that it’s not doing anything.

“I don’t know? Plugged in my phone and the lamp just exploded. Too many things plugged in maybe?” He grabs his phone, unplugs it from the charger. At least that’s fine. “Going to have to ask someone to replace that, I guess,” he says, forlornly looking up at the lamp. “Unless you know where we keep the lightbulbs?”

Oscar snorts. “I don’t.”

“Hm, well,” Lando glances around his now rather gloomy looking driver’s room. There’s light filtering in from the hallway, but it makes the already rather sad looking space look absolutely depressing. “Can I maybe stay in yours for now? I’ll text someone to come fix it, but I think it’ll be a while and we have that media thing later I think?”

“Oh, yeah no problem,” Oscar says, heading for the door. “Kim’s coming over in a bit for a bit of a massage, though. My shoulder’s kind of stuck,” he wiggles it around for emphasize as Lando follows behind him.

“Yeah,” Lando says, texting someone from the team to ask if they know where the lightbulbs are, maybe. “Yeah, sure, no problem.”

--

It’s. Well. Lando didn’t lie. It’s not a problem, perse. But it’s. Something.

Lando’s curled up on the little couch in the corner of Oscar’s driver’s room, scrolling away on his phone and decidedly not looking at Oscar who is sprawled on his stomach on the massage table in the other corner, making truly indecent noises.

Lando thinks that maybe it would be better if Oscar would just commit. If he would just fully all out moan like his life depends on it. That way, Lando could at least make fun of it, a little, maybe. Or something.

But instead, Oscar’s making these quiet little noises, these half bitten off moans and little whines and soft gasps and it sounds like messing around in broom closets and trying desperately to stay as quiet as possible and hands over mouths and broken off moans and Jesus.

Not that Lando’s ever done any of those things with Oscar. But now he’s thinking about it.

Oscar’s taken his shirt off too, and so whenever Lando dares to glance over he’s just met with broad shoulders and strong back muscles and good lord when did Oscar get so big.

Lando wants to bite his neck. He also wants this goddamn couch to swallow him whole. He settles for something in the middle which is going back to frantically scrolling through Instagram. He hasn’t absorbed a single thing he’s seen for the past ten minutes.

Kim, who is also still very much there, presses into a specific spot in Oscar’s back and it startles this gasp-y little sound out of Oscar and Lando briefly considers if maybe his driver’s room did this on purpose. Maybe this driver’s room was like ‘fuck you for always leaving your dirty socks on the floor’ and sabotaged his lamp just to watch him suffer. He can almost hear it laughing at him, through the thin wall separating Oscar’s room from his own.

That, or he’s going a little insane.

He’s never been more glad to see their PR manager poke her head around the driver’s room door to inform them it’s time to go.

[scarlettjemily]

Good Luck, Babe! Pt. 2.

PART 1 | PART 3

Description: Continuation of part 1. Emily confides in Garcia after JJ runs out crying. JJ goes home and tries to cope by getting drunk. No one has heard from her in a while and despite Emily being hurt, she goes to check on her anyway.

Tags: Slightly angsty, V sad Emily, V drunk JJ, Sober JJ is clumsy, wait until you see drunk JJ, mommmy prentiss taking care of JJ, Penelope being such a cute friend, mommy prentiss is mad at JJ but she can’t help the way she feels, drunk JJ is cute but also clearly has a problem.

Chapter 2/??

Not my pictures.

“What happened with JJ? Oh my god, Emily, what’s wrong?” Penelope Garcia burst into Emily’s office, panic etched across her face after she had spotted JJ leaving, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Emily jolted at the intrusion, quickly composing herself and wiping her eyes, but it was too late. “Not now, Garcia. Please leave,” she coughed, her voice trembling with the attempt to suppress her emotion.

But Penelope couldn’t leave; not after witnessing the distress etched on both her friends' faces. She had tried to catch JJ, but the woman had vanished before she could reach her. “I’m not going anywhere. JJ just stormed out, sobbing, and now I find you in tears too? We all know that when Emily Prentiss cries, something must be terribly wrong.” She settled into the chair JJ had just vacated, her heart racing with concern.

Emily forced a humorless chuckle, sinking into her office chair, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “It’s so complicated, Penelope. You have no idea.” A tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek.

“That’s why I’m here. What’s going on?” Penelope leaned forward, genuine worry painting her features.

“It was me. I was the woman,” Emily whispered, her voice cracking as the weight of her confession bore down on her. Tears streamed down her face, and her breath hitched. “We slept together once. I don’t know how it happened, but I loved her so much, Garcia. I was completely in love with her, and she chose Will. She chose him and told me it meant nothing.” Rage flickered in her eyes, mingling with the hurt. “Then she walks in today, telling me she’s gay and that she did love me back then, but that she was broken.” Emily turned to Penelope, her pain raw and palpable. “She hurt me so badly. All I ever wanted was for her to love me back. And now she’s saying she did? Ten years? We could’ve had—something.”

Penelope was taken aback. She had been close to both women during that time and had never suspected a thing. The strength it must have taken for Emily to bury her pain was staggering. “I’m so sorry, Emily. I can’t believe you went through all of this alone. I wish you’d told us; we could’ve helped.” She edged closer, resting her arms on the desk, offering what comfort she could. “I know this happened a decade ago, but why can’t you both have something now? She’s left Will, she’s embraced who she is, and she confessed her love for you!”

Emily shook her head persistently, her hand lifting as if to put a wall up, blocking Garcia’s statement. “No way. I won’t let her hurt me again. I can’t trust her. How would I know she’s telling the truth this time? She’ll probably run back to Will, breaking my heart all over again. Nope.” Though the tears had ceased, her eyes remained red and swollen, reflecting her current emotional state.

Penelope wanted to scream in frustration, but she knew better. Her friend was in pain, yet all she could see was the possibility of love rekindled. “You won’t know unless you talk to her, Emily. She was really upset.”

Emily rolled her eyes, bitterness creeping into her voice. “Good, now she knows how I felt.” The resentment clung to her like a second skin. She wished JJ had never opened her mouth.

Meanwhile, JJ stumbled down the corridor of her apartment building, desperate to escape the weight of the conversation she had with Emily. Tears still stung her eyes, and she sniffled, wiping her nose as she unlocked her door and stepped inside.

The silence of her apartment was deafening. The bare walls and minimal furniture mirrored the emptiness she felt inside. She tossed her bag onto the kitchen counter and opened the fridge, the sound of clinking bottles breaking the heavy stillness. Grabbing a half-finished bottle of tequila, she contemplated a glass but discarded the thought, lifting the bottle straight to her lips. The burning liquid seared her throat, and she grimaced. “Ugh, fuck, that’s gross,” she muttered, heading to the lounge and collapsing onto the couch.

Hours later, JJ woke on the couch, sprawled awkwardly, her arm dangling off the side. The shrill ringing of her phone pierced the fog of her drunkenness. She groaned, hoping it would stop, but it persisted.

Flinging her leg off the couch, she used her hands to push herself up, stumbling slightly as the room seemed to tilt around her. She shuffled toward the kitchen where her phone lay, misjudging the distance to the coffee table and catching her foot. She fell, crashing onto the glass surface, the sharp sound of shattering glass filling the room. A scream escaped her lips as shards flew, some embedding in her skin. Lying on the ground, a low laugh escaped her—a bittersweet acknowledgment of her situation. She was grateful for the alcohol dulling the pain.

Eventually, she managed to rise on all fours, groaning as she crawled toward the kitchen, glass cutting into her hands and knees, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. She reached the counter, desperately grabbing her phone, which still buzzed relentlessly.

“What? What do you want?” she grunted, leaning back against the kitchen island, her head spinning.

“JJ, it’s Garcia. Where are you? Are you okay? You left hours ago and haven’t answered anyone’s calls! We’re worried! You didn’t tell anyone where you were going, and I kind of told Prentiss, and now she’s coming to find you. Please don’t hate me; I’m so sorry!”

JJ laughed, the absurdity of the situation hitting her. “Well great, Garcia, I’m drunk as fuck right now, and the woman I love is coming to my house.” Realization washed over her, and she corrected herself, “Loved, loved. I do not love her, but she’s gonna freak, Garcia. I kinda may have fallen and broken my coffee table, and there’s a lot of blood. You gotta call her and tell her to go.” She struggled to contain her laughter, knowing it was darkly humorous.

“Blood? JJ, what the heck happened?! Are you okay? I’m not telling her to go; you obviously need help! Do I need to call an ambulance?!” Panic flared in Garcia’s voice.

“No, no, don’t call an ambulance. It’s just a little cut—” JJ halted at the sound of a knock on her door. “Ah, fuck, Garcia, she’s here! You can stop freaking out now.” She hung up and tossed the phone to the floor.

Emily stood outside, dread pooling in her stomach. She didn’t want to be here, but she couldn’t ignore her concern for JJ. “JJ?! It’s Emily! Open the door!” She knocked urgently, her heart racing.

“I’m coming, hang on!” The drunk woman yelled. She stayed leaning against the kitchen bench, she couldn’t quite find the strength to get up. She drank half a bottle of tequila, there’s no doubt she was still trying not to completely black out.

“JJ?!” Emily’s voice came through the door, accompanied by more knocks.

JJ jolted awake again “oh” she chuckled; forgetting her boss was outside her door. “I’m coming, I’m coming” she used all her strength to drag herself up on her feet. Finally, JJ appeared, barely managing to keep the door open, the safety chain still in place. “Em, hi! What’s up?” Her heavy-lidded eyes and goofy smile betrayed her inebriation, but it was the blood—dark and smeared across her face—that sent a jolt of panic through Emily.

“JJ, oh my god! What happened?” Emily gasped, alarm flooding her senses.

JJ waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, nothing. Clumsy me, I just fell,” she slurred, squinting against the bright hallway light. “Sorry you had to come here; I’m fine, so you can go now.” She attempted to close the door, but Emily wedged her foot in the opening.

“JJ, you’re drunk. You’ve got a cut on your head that looks serious. Open the door so I can help you.”

With a dramatic sigh, JJ rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine.” She shut the door briefly, then opened it fully, removing the safety chain. “Fucking Garcia,” she muttered, staggering back into the kitchen. “Welcome to my lovely home! Want a drink? I finished the tequila, but I’ve got vodka, whiskey, gin…” She opened the fridge and yanked out a bottle of vodka, twisting off the cap and tossing it aside. “Let’s have vodka; hope you don’t mind sharing the bottle.” She laughed and took a long swig, wincing as the liquor burned her throat.

“Hey, no, no! Put that bottle down!” Emily’s heart raced as she took in the chaos around her—glass and blood strewn everywhere. She rushed toward JJ, desperate to take the bottle from her.

“What? You got a problem sharing the bottle? We fucked once, remember? Now you care about saliva?” JJ tried to lift the bottle again, but Emily swiftly intervened, wrenching it from her grasp and hurling it into the sink, where it shattered, spilling vodka everywhere.

“What the fuck! That was my vodka!” JJ shouted, irritation flashing in her eyes, but Emily wasn’t backing down.

“Jennifer, you’re bleeding! My god, you’ve got glass everywhere.” She inspected JJ closely—blood trickling from her hands, knees, and staining her shirt. “We need to take you to the hospital.”

JJ pouted like a petulant child, her hands drooping to her sides. “No, Em, please. I don’t want to go. Can’t you just clean me up? Pretty please?” She looked up at Emily with a wide, almost giggly smile, her eyes pleading like a child’s.

Emily watched, concern tightening in her chest. JJ was clearly not in a good place. Guilt washed over her; she felt responsible for this reaction. “Fine. Your room now. Where’s your first aid kit?”

JJ smirked, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Oh yes, Agent Prentiss, I’ll go to my room now. The first aid kit is in the bathroom.” She stumbled away, a giggle escaping her lips that felt disjointed against the gravity of the moment.

As JJ disappeared down the hallway, Emily whispered to herself, “What the fuck?” A wave of anger had coursed through her earlier, but now all she felt was worry. How had she missed the signs of JJ’s struggle? This wasn’t like her at all; JJ never drank like this. The sight of her friend, so unlike herself, sent a chill through Emily. She had never seen JJ this way before, and it scared her.