#i feel like it’s very easy to tell what shit was kept from the original writing and what stuff i filled in today💀

[plum-pitt]

Brief bit of context before jumping in, i wrote this lil guy years ago with intents of making a oneshot or brief multi chapter fic of it, and it never got past the planning stage. It doesn’t contain any totk lore for obvious reasons, mainly that it was conceptualized damn near 3 yrs ago. I found it while looking thru my notes earlier today and decided i’d clean it up a bit and post it on my tumblr like a sad little orphan baby with the rest of my deranged ramblings. Its a Breath of the Wild AU that borrows the everything’s great and everyone’s alive concept from Age of Calamity(if only to ruthlessly tear it to shreds), but not much else, so don’t worry about spoilers or confusion with that game’s lore or anything. With all that said, enjoy

So i suppose this is for anyone who thought Age of Calamity went just a *little* bit too well. So, hear me out, a what if scenario where AoC was all just a wish fulfillment fantasy created from Links fragmented subconscious being affected by Ganon’s Malice, in a last ditch attempt to pacify the hero and slowly kill him from the inside? And in order to break free Zelda uses what little remained of her power to manipulate the illusion just enough to give his subconscious a chance at fighting back? Well dear reader, i bring you (the vague conceptal ramblings of) a harrowing tale of this poor boy living the life he always(?) wanted, having to watch it crumble all around him, trying to fight reality every step of the way, and finally coming to accept the harsh truths of his reality and finding hope in its future.

We open in the castle sanctum with Zelda and Link standing in the center of the room. Zelda hands him the sheikah slate with an almost apologetic look on her face, only for Link to discover a peculiar set of photos, the very same photos Link used in the failed future to rediscover his memories of the past. She then tells him that he must head to the Great Plateau and investigate, explaining she has reason to believe the visual data is linked to that location and that her duties with rebuilding do not allow her to do so herself. Link, of course, agrees and sets off immediately, but as he leaves the room, the scene focuses in on Zelda’s face in the final moments, twisted with guilt before fading out.

The scene cuts back to the present with Link back at the plateau, except, something is… off. Structures from all corners of Hyrule are scattered haphazardly across the terrain, mixed in with decimated ruins completely overtaken by nature. The time of day and the weather fluctuate erratically as he wanders, and thick, hazy fog that his legs refuse to carry him through envelops countless areas, paired with an ever present feeling of eyes boring into his back. Eventually he finds the ceremonial grounds that should have been in Hyrule field, now half destroyed and covered with moss and decaying guardian shells, also the site of the first photo on the slate. In a flash he finds himself experiencing the subdued ceremony memory, where he is appointed as Zelda’s knight, except, this isn’t his memory. It isn’t right. Just like that he is thrown back into his body, and the ceremonial grounds that were once in front of him had vanished completely.

After such a rattling experience, despite the job he was given he finds himself looking for the place he entered, only to find it too had vanished, leaving him no choice but to keep looking for the other locations in the photos. Each time he encounters a new memory location, he has another vision, and with each one, the land further warps and distorts itself around him. Vaguely familiar faces begin to fade in and out of the spreading fog like phantoms, almost taunting him as he progresses, while the feeling of eyes watching him only grows more and more intense. These strange visions don’t line up with his memories at all, yet the foreboding and heavy feeling in his gut leaves him feeling more anxious and confused with each passing moment. Eventually, after he sees them all lose, sees himself die in Zelda’s arms, sees her go to the castle to face Ganon alone, he finally arrives at the entrance to the Shrine of Resurrection. There he sees himself, mutilated and deathly still, laying in the chamber, and collapses to his knees, the yawning feeling of dread and emptiness hitting him full force.

He looks up once more and finds himself in an empty, eerie lost woods with an unresponsive deku tree and nary a korok to be found. His eyes catch immediately on the master sword, decrepit and broken like everything else in that place, sat lifelessly in the pedestal he had just pulled it from not a month earlier. The feeling of being watched increased tenfold, making him turn around only to see the cloaked form of… himself. But, no! This couldn’t be him. This person had countless burn scars the same ones as the corpse in the shrine marring nearly every inch of him, long unkempt hair spilling out of his oversized hood, and a wild undead glint in his eyes. Link is given barely a moment to take in the appearance of his stalking shadow before the figure’s weapon is drawn and he’s flinging himself at him.

Imagine an epic, symbolic ahh fight scene where these mfs duke it out, that i’m too lazy to describe. The dynamic i’m imagining is that our POV Link is a manifestation of the Malice’s temptation. The one who wants to stay in the happy dream provided to him by the Malice invading his mind, pacified by the fake memory. The Link he’s fighting (let’s just call him Wild cuz LU brain and also it makes shit easier) is the part of his brain that wants to move forward, accept his true past, and face the future. Each time Wild lands a blow on POV Link, he’s bombarded with more memories that bring him closer to true clarity and acceptance, knocking down his resistance to the truth. Conversely, every time POV Link lands a blow, his resolve to fight the temptations of this fake happy ending weaken. The fight stretches on, and for a moment it looks like POV Link might win, but Wild being a shifty fuck manages to turn the tide and land a killing blow.

In that moment, our POV Link finally feels clarity, enough to accept what he knew in his gut all along. That none of this was real, and that the one he’s been fighting all this time was none other than himself. Still, he can’t help but feel mournful over this happy dream, even as it literally falls apart all around him. In this moment of weakness he looks up at Wild, the grief written across his eyes drawing a look of sympathy from his other half, before the cloaked figure spoke in a gravely timbre

“We can’t run from the truth anymore.”

“…Why not? Can’t we just have this? Don’t we deserve a happy ending? After everything?”

“We do, and we can find it outside this place. But only if you have the will to get us there.”

“….Okay.”

With that exchange, our POV Link finds himself fading away with a small, hopeful smile as he metaphorically rejoins with his other half. Leaving just one, reunited Link left in the clearing, smiling up at the sky as the illusion begins to completely break down and collapse under his wholehearted resolve to escape. From one of the fissures in the sky, he hears Zelda’s echoing voice call out to him, and he takes a moment to thank her for the wake up call and apologize for the wait. Ending it off by saying he’d be there soon, before he too fades away. The golden light where he once stood, gently floating upwards toward the fissure in the sky.

Was this any good? Fuck if i know dawg I wrote this my junior year of highschool and just cleaned it up for shits n giggles. But hey! Let me know your thoughts on this strange blend between outline of a oneshot and actual oneshot. Or if you’d wanna flesh it out more and write it for yourself, then by all means do so! Just uh, credit me ig? Oh and send me a link cuz i wanna read the hell out of it.

[spookysteddie]

That Friday Night

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

read part one here

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: alcohol, drugs (weed and cocaine), clubbing, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, possessive!Eddie, swearing, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), light choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, edging, creampie. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.3k (I'm so sorry)

a/n: First of all, I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged or made comments about part one. I was shitting myself posting it because (like I said) this is not an original thought. I'd read a few and it gave me this wave of inspiration. I am very proud of this part. It's also a little long (sorry sorry sorry I couldn't stop) . Also I don't think I'll be doing a tag list? When I used to do that no one on the list would like the fic and it was a lot of work. I hope that is okay? Let me know if you want more! I love and appreciate all of you!

...

You weren’t the type of person who got shy. Your entire job is being in front of a camera, telling people what you like, what you wear, the type of music you listen to. You did brand deals and went on lots of trips with people you didn’t know. Public interaction was easy for you and you definitely enjoyed it. 

But being personally invited to your favorite band's concert (even if you had tickets already) as their frontman's personal guest? It makes you weak in the knees. 

Telling your team about the phone call went about as good as one would expect. Anna and Case frown at you while continuing to say ‘you could’ve let it go to voicemail and we could’ve handled it directly with his people. AND why did you have him send the information directly to you?’

They weren't necessarily wrong in being upset. There were plenty of ways a conversation like that could be twisted and fucked with, especially if, for whatever reason, someone was recording the phone call. It was very easy for them to manipulate and edit that kind of shit, and drama was the last thing you wanted. 

However, the rest of the week went by without an issue. The gossip magazines had moved on to something else (though there were a few who continued to speculate about your non-relationship with Eddie. You did your deals, and kept yourself busy. And by the time Friday rolled around you were hardly nervous. 

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

“Bell bottom star pants. Absolutely,” Hana says from her place on your bathroom counter, practically in the sink. “With that black leather top you love AND the red leather jacket. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the red boots!” 

You put the outfit on, looking in the mirror, “you don’t think it’s too… stereotypical?” 

Hana looks at you through the mirror, “no such thing. You look great.” 

Hana was one of the few people in your life who’d tell you like it is. You could trust her to tell you if her gut feelings were off, or on. She was your best friend and one of the few people who weren’t just here for the exposure. She’s here to be your cheerleader and you were hers. 

“Alright, let's get this going before I change my mind which I am two seconds away from doing.” 

… 

You should’ve changed your mind. 

You can hardly keep from throwing up as you're led by security to a private entrance. To get there you have to pass by their tour buses. All you can hear is loud music and whooping from inside. It’s clear they’re running around in there as the bus is rocking and all you can do is pray they don’t see you. 

You’re far too sober for the interaction you’ll be having at this current time. 

Unfortunately for you, the universe hates you. Just when you think you’re home free, the door opens, almost smacking you in the face. 

“Don’t think you can get away that easy, Asher,” Eddie says as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown wide, clearly from whatever drug he’s consumed. More than likely cocaine and weed. His words aren’t slurred so he isn’t drunk, though he does have a beer bottle in his large hands. 

God his hands, there have been many times where you’d imagine them wrapped around your throat, cutting off air as he fucks you like he hates you. You bet he could reach you even as he’s eating you out, he’s so tall and long. 

You wish you could say the grin you shoot at him is fake, however with the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour and smother you, it's not. You feel like a fucking school girl who has a crush. Your heart pounds so fast in your chest and you swear everyone around you can hear it. 

“We weren’t running away,” you say, voice a little breathier than you’d like. “Um this is my best friend-” 

“Hana, nice to meet you,” he cuts you off. It’s then that you see his eyes get wide and you know he’s been stalking your profile. Not that you can say anything because you’ve done it… a lot. “I, uh, saw the instagram story you put up earlier.” 

Hana smirks, “sure you did, big boy.” She pats his chest and is clearly much braver than you. That’s another thing about you and her, if one of you is feeling not confident, the other makes up for it. Like, on your own, asking for ketchup feels like cutting off a limb, but if she can't do it then it's up to you and vice versa. 

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching over his wide shoulder, “want to join us? We have alcohol!” 

“We would love that. Wouldn’t we?” Hana looks down at you with her brows raised, still taller than you in heels. 

You nod, “yes. Yeah absolutely! Are we allowed to photograph in here?” 

You know it’s a stupid thing to ask, but you also don’t want to take a photo of you and Hana and then not be able to post it. And what if you get photos with the rest of the band? Everyone already knows you’re going to be here. Just not… in this tour bus. 

Eddie nods, holding out his hand, “you are allowed to do whatever you want, pretty girl. And if anyone has an issue, send them my way, yeah?” He kisses the hand you’ve placed in his before leading you up the stairs of his bus. 

It's chaos in there, pure and utter chaos. You turn to look at Hana, silently telling her how insane this is. She nods slightly, but you see the grin on her face. Hana loves this stuff; the parties, the madness, all of it.

Eddie introduces you to the band, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You all need to be on your best behavior. No one touches her. Do you all understand me?” Your heart flutters at how serious he is and it instantly forces his bandmates eyes to fall to your feet. It’s impressive, actually. 

Suddenly, a bottle of beer is in your hands, passed to you by Eddie. “Oh… thank you.” You can hardly look at him as a small smile forms on your lips. His attention makes you feel all kinds of funny inside, your stomach doing flips. You know you have to look at him eventually, but he’s just so pretty that it actually hurts. 

“Um, so are you excited for your show?” This time you manage to actually drag your eyes to his. He smiles at you, his teeth so beautiful and perfect. It’s when he sits down that you realize that was a stupid question. Of course he’s excited. This is his actual job. 

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you through his lashes, you could kiss him. But you don’t for obvious reasons. Reasons you can't really think of at the moment. Not when he’s looking at you like that.  The beer bottle hangs in his right hand between his legs. 

“Very. Not much comes close to the feeling I get when we’re on that stage.” He shakes his head, curly hair moving with him, “plus, being able to hear people sing my songs back to me is fucking incredible.” 

His hand finds yours, pulling you a little closer. Eddie is testing the waters, you know this. Unfortunately for you, your brain can’t see through the cloud of lust. So, you let him pull you closer, sit you on his lap, and wrap an arm around you. 

Your brain does catch up, quicker than expected. “It seems like it’d be incredible. I applaud you cause I could never do that. I have stage fright.” 

He blinks up at you, “stage fright? Haven’t you done red carpet interviews and stuff?” 

You shift a little, shrugging, “well yes. But that’s different.” You can't stop the awkward laugh that comes out of you. It was true, it was different. You weren’t exactly sure why but it was. 

Eddie's thumb moves along your side slightly and it leaves goosebumps in its wake. 

“I’m being honest, the lights are so bright that I can’t see everyone in the crowds. Mainly just the front rows. Makes it easier.” 

Eddie puts his beer bottle on the ground by his feet before sitting up and grabbing a joint. He’s quiet as he lights it, puffing out smoke to get it going. “Want some?” 

He holds the joint towards you, waiting for your answer. You’ve done this before at the frat houses at college. You’ve done it here and there in high school as well. This is second nature, but this time you’re nervous. What if you forget how to inhale? What if you throw up? Any number of things can happen. 

Something happens inside you and your brain finally catches up to itself. A small stroke of confidence happens and without taking your eyes off of him, you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the joint and inhaling. His eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue wetting his lips. You pull back, slowly blowing out the smoke. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” It comes out in a whisper and you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His eyes falling from your eyes, to your lips and back again. 

God you want to kiss him. His pillowy lips would feel amazing against yours, you just know it. You start to lean into him, desperate to know if you’re right.   

A bang on the door scares the fuck out of the both of you and Eddies boot knocks over his bottle. It’s a good thing he drank most of it, the contents not spilling on the plush carpet. 

“Let’s get going guys. Put your dicks back in your pants, we have a show to do.” You know that voice, that’s their manager. He’s the one who called your people to make sure you had all the rules for this evening. 

Photos are fine. 

Everyone must be tagged. 

Nothing negative. 

Absolutely no photos of any white substances. Even if it’s sugar. 

That last one would be hard considering it was on every flat surface in neat, clean lines. 

You go to stand up, but Eddie stops you, his hand tightening on your hip. “Promise I’ll see ya after?” 

You nod, “y-yeah of course.” 

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, sweet and you don’t want it to end. In fact, you totally forget about all the other people in the room. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as his tongue begs for permission. And once you grant it, it’s game over. 

He tastes like beer and weed and cigarettes and you love it. You want more. You want to get closer. 

But it’s not long before the door to his trailer opens up, his manager stepping into the bus. “I said get your dicks and tongues together. We cannot be late.” 

… 

By the time the show is over you barely have a voice, and you’re sure you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It might seem silly to say, but Eddie's kiss lingered the entire show and all you want is more. 

Back stage the band is still running on adrenaline, drinking water for once to try and refuel for the rest of the night. The rest of the night being a club that they frequent. A club you don’t go to because of that exact reason. 

“Ohhhhh! There's the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Eddie's voice booms as security goes to double check you and Hana. “Hey! Leave them alone. They’re with me.” 

Security stands back, hands raise like he knows it’ll cause more issues if he doesn’t. You almost feel bad for the poor guy, he was just trying to do his job. Like what if you had a bomb or something? 

“C’mon we gotta get outta here.” He laces his fingers with yours before he pulls you along with him. You look over your shoulder, catching Hana's eyes. 

Go! She mouths, hanging off Gareth's arm. I’ll meet you there! 

And so, you go. Are you nervous? Yes absolutely. Are you going to pretend you aren’t and have some confidence? Yes. Fake it till you make it right?

Eddie opens the door to the car, extending a hand, “ladies first.” 

You grin at him as you elegantly slide into the car, “wow. I didn’t know you were such a gentle man.” This time when you giggle, it's cute and self assured. 

“Yes, I have been told my entire life that I look,” he slides in sucking in a soft, thinking breath, “mean and scary.” 

“You look like a doberman but they’re precious babies.” You mean it too. He looks a little mean and scary, especially in the red lights of the stage. Not to mention the “devil music” (says the media) which can get a little dark. But that’s what makes it great, in your opinion. Plus, he does look like doberman. Like he could probably kill you but would actually not? 

“‘Precious babies?’” 

You nod, “mhm! I grew up with them. Very sweet and love kisses. Oh! And they each had their own comfort toys.” 

“Then maybe I am one because I do love kisses.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning over your face. He still smells like beer and cigarettes mixed in with the smell of his cologne. 

It’s your turn to close the gap and planting your lips on his. The kiss is hotter, more intense. One could argue it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your system that makes you so bold. You’re buzzed, but not drunk. It isn’t long before his hands are in your hair, tugging. It makes you moan in his mouth, opening up to him. 

He sits back, his hands in your hair pulling you with him, making you sit in his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his hips, your cunt nestled right against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. You test the waters by rocking your hips, the friction being so sweet that you’re the one who lets out a moan. 

“God, that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “Should record it and use it in our next song.” 

You hum and grin, “I wouldn’t mind that. Always wanted to be in a song. Can’t sing though.”  

He nips at your ear, “that’s my job baby.” 

Eddie's large hand grips your hips, stopping your movements. You want to whine, you want to protest. You were so fucking close. 

“We’ll save that for when we're back at my place.” 

You grin and kiss along his jaw, “who says I’m going back to your place?” 

“The way you were just grindin’ against my cock, angel.” He grins, “also with how you’re lookin’ at me.” 

“And how am I looking at you? Hmm?” 

“Like you want me to fuck you while your brain leaks out your cunt.” 

You shudder at the crudeness of his words. No one has ever spoken to you like that and looked like him. The car stopping in front of the club saves you from trying to come up with an answer. One you know will either be embarrassing or non-existent. 

He looks over at the paparazzi that is waiting and sighs, “are we going in together or…” 

The decision you make is quick. If you’re going to do this, even for one night, you’re going to do it together and let them talk. You give him a quick kiss, “together. Give ‘em something to talk about, yeah?” 

So, you do. 

The second you’re out of the car, cameras flash and photographers call out a mix of your name and his and you can hardly understand what they’re saying. You don’t stop to pose, letting them only photograph you and him walking hand and hand. Give them crumbs as your manager says. Once you’re in the club, not even needing to show an ID or give a name. 

From there the night happens in a blur. The band has the VIP section where bottles of expensive liquor are brought over by women dressed in a bikini. You know how much all of this costs (more than you can afford that’s for sure) but you also know that all of this is on Eddie and the bands tab. He’s told you six times. 

So you drink. And you smoke. And you watch pretty white lines disappear, most of which disappear up Eddie's nose. Of course you take videos, vlogging your night and making sure to follow all the rules that were set prior to this meeting. Taking photos to remember the night. Hana is having a blast, taking shots like it’s her job and making out with Gareth in between. Of course she takes photos with you, sitting in your lap and giggling so much the photos come out blurry. But those are your favorite kinds of photos. 

“Dance with me?” Eddie says in your ear over the music. 

You take the shot that is in your hands, “lead the way.” 

The second you’re surrounded by sweaty bodies you feel invisible. You’re sure someone has cameras on you and him but at the moment you don’t care. 

Your hips move to the music, back against Eddie's chest while his hands explore your body. His lips move against your neck, sucking a dark mark into it that you know you’ll struggle to cover later. Again, you don’t care. What you do care about is the hardness that you feel against your back. 

You spin around, grinning up at him. God he’s so fucking tall you have to tilt your head up a good bit to look at him. 

“We should get out of here,” you say as he pulls you into him. 

He smirks, “thought you weren’t coming back to my place sweetheart.” 

“Seems I told a fib. Now, I need you to take me home and fuck me like you hate me.” 

It’s all he needs before he’s grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of the club. The car is there and he quickly pulls you into the back seat. Once those doors are closed, the window tint so dark you couldn’t see inside if you tried, his mouth his on yours. Your stomach flips and the neediness you feel coming off of him. He pulls you till you’re straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. Not really the safest but at this point, all you need is his lips on you. 

The ride to Eddie’s consists of lots of kissing, so much so that you know your lips are swollen. You don’t get to see much of Eddie’s house, too focused on getting inside the house and into his bedroom. He drags you up the stairs, your hand is his. And once you’re in his room, he has you pressed up against his bedroom door. 

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Eddie pushes your jacket off your shoulders while he speaks, his words going straight to your clit. Your mind can barely comprehend that Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since they were considered an ‘underground band,’ is currently taking off your clothes. 

You do the same to him, pushing his leather jacket to the ground before tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Me? You are so beautiful.” 

He hums, popping the button on your jeans, “should we take a poll on who's prettier? Winner takes the loser on a date?” 

That makes you laugh, “sounds like a deal. But first, you need to fuck me.” 

His eyes nearly go black at that and before you can think, he’s throwing you on this bed. You land with a small oomph. You decide to take a little initiative, pulling off your boots, scooting off your pants and pulling off your top. 

Eddie watches, rapt and almost possessed, his eyes scanning your partially naked body. It’s not anything more than someone would see if you posted in a bathing suit, but you can’t help but feel nervous that he isn’t going to like you. 

He quickly puts those fears (fears he knows nothing about) to rest as he settles between your legs. His eyes don’t leave yours as he kisses up your thighs. You know there is a wet patch on your underwear and you know he can see it. You do feel embarrassed about it, but at the same time, Eddie is slightly rutting against the bed so he must like it. Right? 

You can feel your body heat as he gets closer and closer to your center. 

“Eddie, please don’t tease me.” Never have you begged a man. Typically whoever you were in bed with did the begging, much to your dislike. You were desperate for someone to take charge. Now you know why they didn’t. One bruise and they get shit from all your followers. Even if you tell them to leave these men alone. 

But Eddie? He wasn’t afraid. 

“But it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.” 

You huff, squirming exactly like he said as he sits up to pull your underwear down your legs before setting back between them. “Need you to touch me.” 

He licks a stripe up your slit, sucking on your clit as he gets to the top. The sound that falls from your lips is beautiful, sweeter than the sound you made in the car. Now Eddie really wants to put you in a song, but the jealous, primal side of him never wants someone else to be able to hear your moans. 

In fact, he doesn’t want to think about any of the other men who’ve heard you make these sounds. Murder wasn't really on his list of things he enjoyed. Bar fights? Yes. Murder? No. 

“You make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart. S’very hot.”  He slides two fingers inside you with little resistance, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you. The stretch feels good, your hips moving on their own, riding Eddie's fingers. 

You're close, the build up of this moment really getting closer than you originally thought. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight, baby. Are you close?” 

You nod, afraid if you speak you’ll say something ridiculous. 

But that isn’t good enough for Eddie. “Words.” 

“V-very.” 

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because he pulls his fingers from inside you, the emptiness making you gasp, “no! No, no, no I was so close!” 

He laughs as he pushes his pants and boxers off his body. “Exactly. Want you to cum with my cock inside you.” 

You look down between your bodies and your eyes widen. He was big and you accidentally voice what you’re thinking, “fuck… not gonna fit.” 

His laugh drags your eyes back to him, his cock moving through your slick and bumping your clit. “Baby you are so wet that I have no doubt it’ll fit.”  

You don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because Eddie is pushing inside you. The size of him stretching you makes you feel like he’s going to split you in half. But you don’t care, the burn just turns you on more and more and before you know it he’s seated inside you fully. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” 

Eddie is panting, trying to keep still so he doesn’t cum before he wants to. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. A man could become obsessed with this pussy.” 

He moves right as you begin to speak, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. He feels like he’s everywhere. “W-witchcraft” 

He fucks you harder, his cock hitting your cervix. You’re definitely going to have a bruise there but it's so worth it. 

“Didn’t know you were into dark shit. S’my schtick.” 

You wrap your legs around him, orgasm building again, “more alike than you originally thought huh?” 

He wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, squeezing gently and making your head spin, “oh, angel, I knew how alike we were the second you told everyone how bad you wanted to fuck me.” 

“C-can you blame me? Knew you’d fuck me just h-how I like.” 

You clench around him making him hiss, “yeah you need someone who will take control huh?” 

The hand around your neck slides down your body till he finds your clit, circling it. 

“Oh god! Please.” 

“I can get used to you prayin’ to me.” His thrusts are losing rhythm (something he’s usually very good at keeping) and you know he’s close. “Cum baby. I need it.” 

And it’s all you need to fall over the cliff and into bliss. He follows you, coming inside you while you squeeze around him. You both moan each other's names and you sigh as you come down. 

Eddie breaks the silence first, “that was… amazing.” 

You hum in agreement as he slides out of you and curls up beside you. You take a moment before getting up and cleaning up in the bathroom. When you come back Eddie has left out an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt and some boxers. And once they’re on, you slide back into his bed, laying your head on his chest.

“We should put that poll up, huh? I’m itching to win this bet.” Eddie laughs as he says it and before you know it, you two are finding a photo the both of you like and posting it on your story with the caption, ‘which one is prettier? Honesty is the best policy.’ 

“And now… we wait.”

[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 6)

pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 6 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

days off mean lounging around, sharing meals and potentially sharing intimate movements? it's getting harder and harder to push your feelings for lando aside, even if there is a voice in the back of your head reminding you getting involved with a british driver (but that voice sounds a lot like charles' so its easy to ignore)

word count: 5.8k tags/warnings some social media aus

if anyone read this part when it was originally posted im so sorry, something got messed up and like half of the chapter didnt post sooo here it is now

“I am not watching another one of these stupid vampire movies.”

Lando had kept his mouth shut all day. He didn’t complain when you put Twilight on, craving a bit of nostalgia and a reason to lounge on the couch for the foreseeable evening. He didn’t say anything when you put New Moon on, he just gave you a questionable look when you spoke in unison with Jacob Black when he said the iconic ‘Bella, where the hell have you been loca’ line.

By the time you started Eclipse, the third in the series, Lando stood up from the couch. Your attention had been divided between your phone and the movie for the majority of the day so you really weren’t paying attention to Lando until you realised he was spending a good chunk of time in the kitchen.

You lifted your head, “What are you doing?”

“Driving a race car,” Lando called back, tone dropping with sarcasm, as he pulled out a knife to start cutting the vegetables he had taken from the fridge. 

You sat up a bit straighter, eyeing the red pepper on the cutting board, “I don’t like red peppers.”

“There were peppers in your omelette this morning,” Lando scoffed, turning to look at you.

“Those were green peppers. I don’t like red ones.”

“They are literally the same thing.”

“Not to me.”

Lando held the pointed end of the knife in your direction, “You are making my life very difficult right now.” When you just flashed him a smile and turned back to the movie, Lando put the red pepper away and swapped it for a green one. 

You weren’t even sure what he was making, but it smelled good so you kept quiet for the most part. 

You tried to tell him you were allergic to whatever seasoning he just pulled out of the cupboard and in response, Lando put a handful of it in his hand, walked over to you, and blew it directly into your face.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes as you grabbed a tissue to rid your face of what you assumed was some sort of combination of dill and garlic powder. 

“You should be thanking your lucky stars this recipe didn’t call for cayenne pepper, you ungrateful shit,” Lando laughed as he returned back to the kitchen. Now you really stayed quiet. 

When he returned, you had your defences up, flinching as he approached you as you were scared he was going to throw something else in your face. Lando only rolled his eyes and handed you a bowl and a bottle of sparkling water. 

You sat up and took a look at the Greek inspired chicken bowl. With layers of rice, protein, a variety of vegetables topped with feta cheese, it made your mouth water before you could take the first bite.

“Maybe you should open up a restaurant,” you suggested when he sat down next to you. 

“Let’s just open one together.”

“In your dreams.”

Lando took a sip of his Perrier water and nodded in agreement, “Sounds like a pretty good dream to me.”

You ate dinner and kept watching the movie, choosing to ignore that comment. Lando asked a couple questions here and there, needing clarification on who some characters were that he had missed when he was making dinner, but you had the feeling he was as into these movies as you were.

Until it was nearing eleven and you had just put the final movie on. Breaking Dawn Part 2. And Lando snatched the remote from your hands, pausing it at the opening credits. 

“I am not watching another one of these stupid vampire movies.”

You stared at him in shock, “You said we could do what I wanted today!” 

“I didn’t think that would involve ten straight hours of a vampire-werewolf love triangle that is making me want to rip my eyes out,” Lando exclaimed with a laugh, his words cutting right through your heart.

You ripped the remote from his hands and sat up, pointing at the tv, “The Twilight Saga is a cinematic masterpiece.”

Lando threw his head back and laughed, “Oh really? How many Oscars has it won?”

“It won MTV’s Best Onscreen Kiss in 2009.”

“I feel like this isn’t information you should just know off the top of your head.”

You groaned and pressed play, “Can we just watch it? It’s the last movie.”

“You watch it, I’m getting ready for bed.” Lando tousled his hand through your hair before using you as a crutch to stand up. You pushed him out of the way as he walked in front of the tv and he made another comment about how this was one of the worst series’ he’s ever seen before walking into the bathroom.

You turned your attention to the screen, but when your phone started to ring you turned it down and saw Arthur was calling you to check in, ask if you’d be at Silverstone and what not. It was an innocent enough conversation, until he asked where you were.

“At a friend's house,” you sat up a bit, thankful that Lando wasn’t anywhere near you to make this conversation more difficult.

“Oh, which friend?”

Fuck your mind went blank.

You said the first name that came to mind, “Laura.”

Arthur laughed, “Who the hell is Laura?”

“Oh you’ve met her before,” you lied through your teeth. “Blonde, has the piercings-”

“That describes about half of your friends,” Arthur cut you off, probably not caring too much who you were with, as long as you were somewhere safe. “Have you talked to Charles lately?”

Aside from a few texts, you really hadn’t heard from your brother since you left Canada, “Not much, why?”

There was a bit of hesitation, “No reason, just wondering.”

Any other day you would have called Arthur out on withholding information from you. Something must have been going on with your brothers for Arthur to even ask if you had spoken to Charles, but Arthur ended this phone call almost immediately after, making up some bullshit training excuse.

You made a mental note to call him out on it next time you spoke, but until then you returned back to the vampire-werewolf love triangle Lando despised so much.

When the bathroom door opened, you glanced in that direction in time to see a cloud of steam protrude into the hallway. You wouldn’t have paid any more attention to it, had Lando not immediately followed and stepped out of the bathroom.

With nothing but a towel hanging around his hips. 

You really tried to focus on the movie. You would have been fuming if you stepped out of the shower in nothing but a towel and Lando couldn’t stop staring at you, but this was the first time you’d seen him like this and it was quite distracting.

You’d seen his shirtless pictures on instagram. You’ve seen clips of him changing shirts in Lando edits on twitter or tik tok, but this was different. Holy fuck was this different. 

Beads of water clung to his skin, accentuating the dips and curves of the muscles in his back. He shook out his head, running his fingers through the wet strands of hair to try and keep the curls from sticking to his forehead. 

And then he looked at you and you knew you had been caught staring.

“I’m just going into the room to change,” he told you. It had been your room for the last few weeks, but he still had all of his clothes in the closet. You nodded, mentally telling yourself to not look down at where the towel sat on his hips. 

But you couldn’t do anything about pulling your eyes off his body as he walked down the hall and shut the bedroom door behind him. 

It took you a second to pull yourself together after that.

Lando was hot. 

You knew he was attractive, everyone who had eyes would agree to that. He had cute, boy-ish features and a magnetic smile that made it hard to look away. Like a lot of the drivers on the grid, Lando was good looking, he had that going for him.

But he was hot.

Hot enough to make you temporarily forget about one of your favourite movie series, hot enough that you couldn’t say a single word to him when he told he was just going to change, hot enough that you were now imagining what he might have looked like without the towel.

You sat up straighter, forcing these thoughts out of your mind. You knew you shouldn’t be thinking about Lando like that so when he walked out of the bedroom, you didn’t even let yourself look at him as he sauntered down the hall. In the corner of your eye you could see him make himself a cup of tea in the kitchen. When he asked if you wanted one, you could only shake your head.

It was hard to focus on the movie knowing Lando was right there. You weren’t even watching, you were just pretending to because you needed something to look at that wasn’t him. 

When he sat down next to you, he carefully put his cup of tea on the coffee table and leaned against the back cushions with a heavy breath. He was sitting a few inches closer to you now than he had been before, you weren’t imagining that. He had the hood of his jumper pulled up around his head, his arm resting behind his neck and neither of you said anything for a little while.

Until Lando, not even pulling his eyes from the screen, asked, “Were you checking me out?”

In response, you grabbed the pillow that had fallen on the ground and smacked him right in the face with it. Lando laughed, but he couldn’t dodge it, instead letting it fall to his lap and eyeing the way your cheeks turned red and how you refused to look at him.

“That’s a very violent way to say yes,” there was a smugness to his tone. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking.

“I wasn’t.” You practically hissed, “I looked at you, there’s a difference.”

You were definitely checking him out when he stepped out of the bathroom.

But he didn’t need to know that.

Lando wasn’t going to let this go, “It’s okay, I check you out sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes, deciding that if he wanted to start this game, you would play dirty. “Yeah I bet you absolutely drool at the sight of me in the Ferrari garage talking to Carlos.”

But that didn’t deter Lando like you thought it would. He shifted on the couch to face you, arm resting along the back of it, “Okay can you tell me about that? Like is there something going on there?”

You finally looked at him, eyebrows raised, “Going on with…?”

“You and Carlos.”

You snorted, “No.”

“But you guys are close.”

“We’re friends.”

“Nothing more?”

“If we were more I probably would have called him last night instead of you, don’t you think?” 

It was a sentimental thought, but your tone was bitter and Lando caught it, like you couldn’t believe you were actually talking about this. But Lando didn’t know that this was an ongoing conversation with those that were close to you and Charles. People jumped to their own conclusions and while you did like Carlos, you would never see him as anything more than a friend. 

“So what are we?”

Now you felt forced to pause the movie. You turned on the couch, crossing your legs underneath you as you stared at the British driver, “Are we really having this conversation?”

“I just want clarification, is all,” Lando said, a hand held up in defence before you could give him any more attitude. “You didn’t call Carlos because you guys are just friends and nothing more, but you called me.”

“You’re thinking too much about this.”

“I’m thinking about it the right amount,” Lando retorted. Still, you were unimpressed and he could see that. Through your blank stare and semi-scowl, Lando got the impression that this was not how you wanted the night to end.

But he had a point, whether you admitted it or not. 

Lando was who you called. Even if you didn’t remember it, he was who you wanted to be with last night, he was who you missed. 

However there was something he seemed to be forgetting.

“I don’t date drivers, Lando.”

“I know, I know, and I don’t want to keep having this conversation but I also don’t know where we stand,” he tried to reason with you, he wanted more than just the same rejection you’ve been giving him for a while now. Flirting was fun, hanging out with him was exhilarating and while you knew it couldn’t turn into anything more, Lando wanted you to think otherwise.

“We’re friends,” you said, point blankly. You needed to remove yourself from this situation so you grabbed the empty bowl that had been sitting on the coffee table and you walked to the kitchen. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised when Lando followed.

“Friends who kiss?”

“Once,” you pointed out, dropping the bowl into the sink, making sure your back was towards him. “We’ve kissed once and it didn’t mean anything.”

Lando scoffed, you could practically hear his eye roll as he stood behind you, “It didn’t mean anything? Really?” 

No, but that’s what he needed to hear. You didn’t want Lando to know that you were conflicted, torn between knowing that you shouldn’t want to hang out with him as much as you did and wanting him to kiss you again. You didn’t like the level of comfort you two had reached and you hated that his presence made you as happy as it did.

So he needed to believe the kiss didn’t mean anything and maybe if you said it enough times, you’d believe it to.

“It didn’t mean anything,” you repeated, hands resting on the edge of the counter. “It was the thirty second deal. Once you reach zero you’re done.”

But Lando wasn’t as naive as you were.

“And how many seconds do I have left?” He asked, standing mere inches from you. If you looked up and to the right even slightly, you’d catch his eyes.

A sharp exhale passed through your lips, “Eleven.”

Lando gently took hold of your wrist and spun you around to face him. With your back pressed up against the counter, you were limited to what you could do or where you could look. You were practically forced to meet his hazel eyes and you were frozen when he lifted his hand up to the side of your face.

His fingers were gently, resting right where your neck met your jaw as he closed the gap even more, dropping his face to yours. He didn’t kiss you, but he came horribly close. Instead, letting his nose nudge yours as his lips parted. 

You found yourself reaching for the front of his jumper, curling your fingers around the material to hold him against you. Each breath carried more and more anticipation, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest as Lando hovered his lips right above yours. 

He had eleven seconds left, but he wasn’t going to rush into them. He just wanted to prove a point. 

You wanted to kiss him. 

“Lando,” you were so quiet. You weren’t even sure what you were asking from him.

You were frozen in place and Lando’s breaths were in sync with yours and each second that passed where he didn’t kiss you only drove you more and more insane. It wasn’t fair. 

“You can’t tell me this doesn’t mean anything,” Lando’s words were laced with timid desperation. He wanted you both to be on the same page and as terrifying as it was to admit, that build up, the moment before the kiss, meant something. You shouldn’t have wanted him as bad as you did.

You applied the slightest bit of pressure to his chest. Lando got the hint and stepped backwards, giving you the space you needed to think clearly.

“I just-” the fear of Charles finding out flooded your mind, followed by the media spinning this out of control and then images of a Ferrari-McLaren crash were at the forefront of your thoughts. You shook your head. “I need to go to bed.”

Lando wasn’t going to push to get anything else out of you. He watched as you slowly walked down the hall. You didn’t dare give him one last look before collapsing on the bed and calling it a night.

——————

3

The upside to yours and Lando’s friendship, or relationship, was that each new day was exactly that. A new day. 

You woke up in the morning and neither of you addressed the almost kiss you shared last night. Lando didn’t ask again if it meant anything and you were able to focus on getting ready and doing your makeup without any intrusive thoughts. 

Because you had watched most of the Twilight movies yesterday and that was all you wanted to do, it was Lando’s choice today. He had been texting furiously all morning and even stepped outside to take a few calls, leaving you with more questions than answers.

And he wouldn’t give you any hints. It was a surprise, apparently. He even asked if he could blindfold you before you got into his car and a simple glare in response told him that that would never happen.

During the drive, you both took turns picking the song. Lando would question most of your choices, mostly because a lot of the artists you liked were French, but in return you would judge the majority of the British rap that he chose. 

“Can you please just tell me where we’re going?” You asked, noticing you were driving further and further out of the city. “You’re not kidnapping me are you?”

“I’m not kidnapping you.”

“Is this another date?”

“Not a date either,” Lando answered. 

You couldn’t imagine what the outskirts of London had to offer. You tried to ask more questions, but they were all shot down. And when the road you were on turned to dirt and gravel and you could no longer see any sign of city life, you turned to him again.

“I need a hint or something.”

“You are so impatient,” Lando laughed, reaching over the console to give your leg a playful squeeze. “We’re almost there. I promise- well, I think you’ll like it.”

Almost was a stretch. It took another fifteen minutes before he turned down yet another dirt road, thick forestry on either side. You couldn’t begin to imagine what he had in store. 

And then you saw a few trailers parked in front of a steel dome with a garage door. It took a second for you to realise there was a dark green car parked in the garage and a few people hanging around it.

“What is going on?” You asked him, but you weren’t surprised when all he did was smile.

Lando pulled his car off to the side, using a few fingers to wave at the other people who were apparently waiting for him. He then turned the car off and gave you one of his familiar, charming grins. 

“Ready?” 

“I don’t know what you signed me up for, so no.”

Lando didn’t let you ask any more questions before he opened the door, quickly scurrying to the other side of the car to open yours as well. He helped you out and you watched as two of the people that were in the garage started making their way over to you.

You recognised Max Fewtrell, Lando’s best friend. You’d never actually met him before, but you’d seen him at races and all over social media. The girl next to him was also familiar with dark brown hair and beautiful features, but you couldn’t place a name.

With his hand on your back, Lando and you took a few steps forward. He gestured towards Max first, “This is Max, that’s Ria-” he looked at you to introduce you to his friends. “This is Y/N.”

Ria Bish, now you knew where you recognised her from. She was part of Lando’s Quadrant team. 

And both her and Max were wearing Quadrant merch. Merch that you hadn’t seen before. And usually Lando made a habit of wearing his own clothing whenever he could. Behind them, you finally spotted a skeleton crew of camera operators.

You looked up at Lando, “What the fuck is going on here?”

Ria sort of chuckled, “You didn’t tell her?”

“He doesn’t tell me anything,” you shook your head. 

But now you were able to figure it out. The new merchandise. The Quadrant team. The camera set up. 

“You’re dropping a new collection,” you said, finally it wasn’t a question.

And that wasn’t the only surprise.

Lando was positively beaming, “And I want you to model for the photo and video shoot.”

Your jaw dropped as you tried to tell if he was playing some sort of joke or not. The way he looked at you told you that he wasn’t lying. Ria and Max wore similar excited expressions, clearly you were the only one left out of this decision. 

Modelling wasn’t new to you, but usually your agent contacted you when you had a new job. You didn’t show up to a set with no warning and by the looks of it, this wasn’t even a professional set. This was something Lando had set up with members of his own team.

“I’m not-”

“You don’t have a choice,” Lando interjected before you could turn this down. “I’m pretty sure we agreed that today we did what I wanted to do.”

You thought about it for a moment before a new concern came to mind, “How long have you been planning this?”

Lando scratched the back of his neck, “Honestly, I always knew I wanted you to model this collection. It just worked out that we could do it today.”

“But why-”

“Danny’s never asked you to model one of his collections, has he?”

Oh.

Oh. 

That’s what this was about. Your driver ranking. You told Lando to get creative and he was doing exactly that. He knew you lived in your DR3 merch, he knew you admired the third Red Bull driver, but Daniel had never given you the opportunity to be part of his collection drop. 

Max handed him a purple top which he just handed over to you, looking quite proud of himself as he draped his arm over your shoulders, tugging you against his side.

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fun,” Lando encouraged. You held out the t-shirt to look at the design as Lando kept trying to talk you into it. “The fans will love it.”

“Charles will not.”

“Who cares what Charles thinks?”

You tilted your chin up, eyebrows raised, “You know, usually I get paid for these types of jobs.”

And it was your fault, really, for using a suggestive tone. For letting your gaze drop to his lips. For forgetting that two of his friends were literally standing right in front of you, watching this interaction.

Lando ran with it. He just dipped his head towards your ear, using a volume that only you could hear, leaving Max and Ria to wonder what they were missing.

“I’m sure we can figure something out later.”

Thank god for Ria catching the way your cheeks turned red. She grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled you away from Lando before the innuendos could get any worse, “Come on, I’ll show you the trailer to change in.”

You walked with Ria, waiting a few seconds before looking over your shoulder at Lando who had jumped right into a conversation with Max. But he was watching you too, his gaze darting towards you as he spoke, but trying not to make it obvious. 

Ria unlatched the door to the trailer and stepped back for you to walk in, “Can I ask how your brother feels about all of this? About you and Lando?”

“Oh he doesn’t-” you paused on the steps, sending one more look towards the British driver. 

You should have said, there was no ‘you and Lando’ but instead your instant response was to say that Charles was unaware. And even though you had no idea what was going either, there was certainly something. 

But you just shrugged, “Charles doesn’t know anything.”

Ria eyed the merch in your hands. You were both thinking the same thing, but she was the one to voice the thoughts, "I guess that's about to change."

ynleclerc

liked by maxfewtrell, carlossainz55 and 25,351 others

tagged: landonorris, team_quadrant

ynleclerc quadrant OFF ROAD* collection drops soon i think?

view all 2,197 comments

landonorris nice

riabish ♡♡

danielricciardo this feels like a betrayal?

ynleclerc still love u ❤️

inthepaddock that last pic is my 13th reason

usersainzz carlos has been awfully quiet

charles_leclerc what is this

landonorris merch drop mate

You told Lando not to respond to Charles’ comment, it would only feed the fire. But then you saw him click ‘reply’ and you weren’t quick enough to snatch the phone out of his hands. You tried, but Lando just held the phone way out of reach.

The photoshoot had been fun, you could admit that, but the entire car ride back to his place, your stomach filled with nerves as you debated posting a collection of photos from it. You wanted to support Lando, you wanted to show off the new clothing, but you were terrified of what Charles would say. 

Lando held the door open for you to step into his flat and he could see you were still fighting with yourself. He snatched the phone out of your hands and swiped through the pictures.

“If you’re so worried about what he’ll say, don’t include the last one.”

“But I like the last one,” you admitted with a shy smile. It was one that Ria had snapped when you walked out of the trailer in the all purple attire. And maybe you were the one that pulled Lando to your side to get a photo of the two of you matching but he was the one who dropped his head right next to yours. 

And then you were the one who held the side of his face, resulting in a pose that looked very…

“We look like a couple,” Lando voiced your concern as he sat down on the couch, pulling out his own phone. “I love the picture, I do, but if it's causing you this much anxiety, don’t post it.”

When you sat down next to him, you glanced at his phone screen and saw that he was swiping through the photos as well. Taking a few extra seconds to examine the ones of just the two of you. When he zoomed in on your smile you rolled your eyes and playfully pushed your hand against his face.

“You had fun, right?” Lando asked, turning his attention to you. Not the you on his phone screen, the you that was sitting so close to him that he could feel the faint movements of your body with each breath you too, so close that he could see the worry lines in your forehead and guilt in your eyes. 

But you nodded, “I really did.”

He grinned from ear to ear, “So am I up to third now? In your driver ranking?”

You sighed heavily, “It appears so.”

Lando curled his hand into a celebratory fist. You ignored his childish ways and looked at your Instagram post again. You really did have a good time today. Getting to know some of Lando’s friends was entertaining, especially when they were able to tell you all of the stories that Lando wouldn’t ever share himself. 

It shouldn’t have mattered how your brothers would react, you were happy. You had a really fucking good day. 

So you posted the four pictures.

Lando commented immediately. When you asked him if he had your post notifications on he just muttered a quiet ‘no’ and tried to hide in the hood of his jumper. 

And then Charles saw it. His ‘what is this’ comment made you feel sick and you begged Lando not to respond but Lando loved making your life difficult and even though his response was innocent enough, you weren’t surprised when Charles’ name appeared on your phone a few seconds later, his ringtone burning through your ears.

“I’ll answer it-”

“You absolutely will not,” you snapped at Lando. “You will stay quiet. If you so much as breathe too loudly I will shave your head in your sleep.”

Lando believed you. You weren’t one to bluff.

You stood up and answered the call, mentally preparing yourself for a scolding. 

“Hey Cha-”

“Why were you with Lando?” He asked. Not even a hello or a how are you. Just straight to the point. “Why are you promoting his brand?”

“It was a job,” you looked at Lando, but there was enough space between you that he couldn’t make out what Charles was saying on the other end. “Lando was in the city, he asked if I wanted to participate and I said yes. It’s not a big deal.”

It was a lie. It wasn't a real job and Lando didn't force you in front of the camera. If you wanted out of the photoshoot, you could have said no.

But you wanted to be part of it.

“It’s kind of a big deal, Y/N,” Charles didn’t sound annoyed, he sounded genuinely mad at you. “You’re my sister and you’re promoting another driver's merch? How do you think that makes me look?”

“I don’t think people are thinking about that,” you scoffed. Charles wasn’t one to have selfish tendencies, so this was really coming out of left field. “It was a photoshoot, Charles. Don't try to create a problem when there's not one. You don't care when I wear Daniel's merch."

"Daniel isn't driving."

"That's not the point and you know it."

Charles had something against you

There was silence on his end. You thought about just hanging up and ending the conversation there. Otherwise this would have turned into an argument that neither of you would win. 

But then he just had to keep it going.

“Do you-” Charles paused again. You knew where he was going and you really regretted not hanging up when you had the chance. “Do you like him?”

Even though Lando had no idea what sort of conversation you were in the middle of, he was still watching you carefully. When you turned your head to look at him, you felt stuck. Conflicted. This was not how you wanted to feel. 

“Peut-être,” you said, eyes locked on Lando’s. Maybe. Maybe you did like him more than you were willing to let on, more than you wanted to. 

Making the switch to French was a dead giveaway for Charles, “Are you with him right now?”

Again, all you could say was, “Peut-être.”

Lando was trying to piece together what you were saying. With his eyebrows pinched together and jaw tightened, you could see he was concerned. The photoshoot was his idea and now Charles was taking his frustration out on you, he felt responsible. 

“Je dois partir,” I need to go. You said quietly. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

“No, don’t hang-”

You pulled the phone away from your ear and left it on the counter in the kitchen. Lando stood up and walked over to you as soon as he knew the conversation was over. He gently put his hand on your back and kept it there as he turned you to face him.

“Look I knew Charles wouldn’t be happy but I didn’t think-”

“Don’t,” you shook your head, rubbing your hand over your face in distress. “It’s not your fault. None of this is and I shouldn’t even care what he thinks.”

“But he’s your brother, so you’re going to care.”

All you could do was shrug your shoulders. This was a lose-lose situation for you. If you distanced yourself from Lando, you wouldn’t be happy. If you stayed with Lando, if you let yourself be happy with him, Charles would distance himself from you. 

Lando lifted his hand to the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek, “Can I ask- what does ‘peut-être’ mean?”

You leaned into his touch, “It means ‘maybe’.”

“Maybe what?”

God were you really going to tell him?

It was hard to keep your eyes on his, every voice in your head told you to just turn around and walk away. Leave this conversation now otherwise you’d be digging your own grave.

But it was so easy to tune out those voices when the whole world stopped as he looked at you. 

“Maybe..." you started, taking a breath, “maybe I like you.”

Lando smiled, well it was a mix between a smile and smirk, hearing the words that he'd been waiting for. “Maybe?” He asked, heavy on the sarcasm. “Only maybe?”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he licked his lips. That fucker knew what he was doing. His gaze dropped to your own lips for a second, “I have eleven seconds left, yeah?”

You nodded and the last thing you caught was the devient glint in his eyes before he connected his mouth to yours, making the move that you were reluctant to.

Your lips moved in slow synchronisation, there was less of a hurry this time compared to at the hotel, both of you wanting this moment to last. Lando’s fingers slipped into your hair, your hand found his chest before it slid up towards his neck instead, bringing him closer to you, if that was even possible.

Lando’s grip tightened on your side and every thought in your brain, the countdown that you should have started, Charles’ disapproval, all of it vanished and instead there was him and only him. 

It was like Lando was kissing you with every inch of his soul. Like he was trying to use this moment to replace all of the words he couldn’t say because he knew you wouldn’t listen anyway. It was the kind of kiss that you could get used to, that you wanted to get used to. 

Breathlessly, you pulled away. Lando rested his forehead against yours, the pads of his fingers brushing against your cheek as he swallowed.

“Times up,” you whispered, both of you aware that it had been a little longer than eleven seconds.

“It doesn’t have to be, you know that right?”

You could have more than just those expired thirty seconds. You could have every day with him if you wanted, Lando not only hinted at that but he had also made it so blatantly obvious that he wanted you. 

This wasn’t about a stupid driver ranking anymore. 

Somewhere over these last few weeks, there was a shift. Lando didn’t just care about working his way up, he cared about you. He wanted to make you happy, he wanted to see you smile, be the reason for your laugh, spend every possible minute of the day with you if it wasn’t a race weekend, and even then, he wanted to see you at the Paddock more than anything. 

Lando liked you. 

And it was terrifying, but you couldn’t deny your feelings anymore. You couldn’t mask them with sarcasm and eye rolls. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You wanted more than just those thirty seconds.

You wanted him. 

masterlist here

taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1 @masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1 @scarlettisconfused @sbgal @e-lisa-bettan @harrysdimple05 @ophcelia @alesainz @fandomxs1 @majx00 @sbgal @mehrmonga @themockingjayreader if i forgot anyone im so sorry

[thecameronchronicles]

The Princess, The Pogue, and The Kook Prince

TW: threesome. Language. Heavy smut. 

SUMMARY: You have a threesome with the two guys you want the most, two who couldn't hate each other more if they tried. 

WORD COUNT: 2100

ORIGINAL CONCEPT

The Princess, the Pogue, and The Kook Prince

Dating Rafe Cameron meant you were often the subject to stroke his ego. His gratitude often shown in the privacy behind closed doors and the way your body was left trembling with a violent passion that seemed incomparable. But during one of those very instances where his face was buried between your thighs, your back arching off of the bed as your fingers pulled the shorts strands of his hair, your eyes came to the last person who should bear witness or simply be in attendance in general. 

JJ Maybank. 

Those cool blue eyes narrowing and studying you as you found an unrivaled release in knowing he watched you come. It played in your mind in such repetition that you nearly spoke JJ's name a handful of rendezvous with your boyfriend. But tonight, you couldn't take it for another moment. 

You would have both of them. 

The plan was simple. Luring them into the same room would be easy. Keeping them there would be the challenge. 

You started with Rafe, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as you felt his fingers over your curves before asking him to meet you in a room prepaid within the resort on Figure Eight. The same one JJ was working after being fired from his recent job on The Cut. 

Once Rafe was out of sight, you moved to JJ, flirting with him relentlessly as he fell into your seductions. You convinced him something within your hotel room needed assistance and without a second thought, he followed behind you as you kept your short skirt just out of reach of his ringed fingers. Your eyes rolling prematurely to how they would feel eating into your skin. 

"Was starting to think-" Rafe began as his eyes fell to JJ. Immediately, JJ's defenses were up. It took no less than two seconds before they stood chest-to-chest. Your hands were set in the nick of time before one took hold of the other, their focus falling to you. 

"Very Rafe of you, having your girlfriend lure me up here...afraid I'll kick your ass in front of all your little boyfriends?!" 

"He didn't ask me to." 

"Sure, princess..." JJ spoke with dismissal before he faced him completely. 

"I wanted you up here." His eyes narrowed in confusion as you turned back to Rafe, your hand remaining on each of their chests, "I wanted both of you up here..." 

You traveled to the edge of the bed, kicking off your wedges, before crossing your legs. 

"You want to watch us fight? Pretty sure you could have done that any other night..." Rafe explained, rather annoyed. 

"No..." You slipped your legs apart, your skirt hanging between your bare thighs. 

"I want to fuck you both..." 

"Fuck..." JJ expressed. 

"There's no way a dirty pogue is touching you, let alone-"

"I can't even begin to explain how wet I already am just thinking about it..." You ignored Rafe, your hands slipping into your panties. "Oh my God...it would be so easy to take you both right now..." 

"Fuck..." Rafe clenched his jaw. 

"So I don't care whatever differences you two have, put them aside and make me come because I've wanted this," You winced at the electricity your fingers left at your clit. "For so long...oh my God..." 

"This is..." JJ ran his hands through his hair. 

"You think I'm lying J? Feel me..." You pulled his hand between your legs as Rafe tensed. 

"Goddamn..."

"Tell him what you feel..."

"Soaked...shit..." You rode against JJ's fingers as he moved closer. 

"Yes..." Rafe was growing increasingly angry as you set your hand in his direction. 

"Play with my nipples, baby...just like I like..." 

"He doesn't get to see you naked." 

"He's already rubbing my clit..." You reminded as Rafe groaned, twisting your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress.

"So good..." You moaned as JJ took the liberty of slipping past your direction and sinking his fingers inside of you. 

"Yes!" Your hand wrapped around his wrist as he fucked you with his fingers. 

"Jesus..." JJ responded as you arched. 

"Ahhhh....oh my God....yes..." You were purposely vocal as Rafe growled, pulling himself into the bed behind you and widening your legs for JJ. 

"Yes!" You gasped to Rafe's rough hands. 

"Eat her out. " JJ ignored Rage. 

"That what you want princess?"

"Fuck yes…" 

He dropped to his knees immediately and began at your clit. 

"If you wanted a threesome, I would’ve asked Top...maybe Scarlett..." 

"Oh shit, she likes that idea..." JJ groaned. "You curious, princess?" You nodded, your interest in anyone taboo making your list inflamed. Girls. Guys. Pogues. Kooks. You wanted to know what felt best, and right now it was JJ and Rafe. 

"Wider...let me see..." Rafe looked over your shoulder as he spread you apart, locking your ankles in place with his own feet as you buckled. 

"She likes to move?" 

"You have no idea, Maybank...use your fingers too, makes her shake and I fucking love her little whimpers " Two fingers sunk inside as both boys worked together for your benefit. 

"Yes!" You managed to gasp before your orgasm began. 

"You wanna come on his face?" You nodded, just like you wanted to that night. 

"Then you're gonna come hard!" Rafe attacked your clit as JJ focused on your opening, your body in tremors to the waves as you cried out both of their names in those final moments. 

"Fuck...that’s..."

"Come here..." You faced Rafe, climbing down his torso and unlatching his belt as JJ already worked your panties down your ass and teased the supple skin. 

"You gonna suck me off in front of the pogue, huh?" 

"Yeah..." You turned back to JJ before Rafe gripped your jaw. 

"Then you're gonna share that dirty little mouth so that I can watch...yeah?" 

"Anything you want .." You faced against his abdomen before exposing him to you. He was in your throat in seconds as JJ rubbed your ass. 

"Fuck...." He collected the droplet on your thigh that made you tremble. 

"You don't deserve her ass," He winced at the suction you made to his head, earning a slap to the skin JJ adorned. 

"Think that should be up to her..." JJ taunted Rafe as you rolled your eyes to how they bickered. 

"She's a bit busy choking on me...guess you'll have to let me decide for her..." Rafe boasted, taking one hand to the headboard behind his head and thrusting into your throat. 

"She's practically pouring down her legs? Oh fuck...." JJ groaned.

"You wanna fuck her?" JJ ignored Rafe as you slipped your fingers over yourself so he could see you work your lips. 

"Jesus fucking Christ..." Without another word, JJ was back on his knees after tossing your hand away. 

"Yes!" Rafe groaned to the vibrations shooting through him as your moans from JJ's tongue managed to add to his pleasure. 

"Make her come again and your can have her ass...fuck-" JJ was motivated, wanting to claim that tight little space so few knew could bring such pleasure. And your body shared in the excitement. 

Suddenly Rafe pulled you upwards to face him. You turned to witness JJ buried into your ass, only his eyes peeking over your perked ass as his eyes rolled and his tongue rode your entire perineum as you shook. His hands held you flat as he nodded against you from behind. 

"You use that hand now before I kick him out and remind you who you fucking belong to..." Rafe rasped, turned on at how JJ looked against you, more specifically how he was in control. You wrapped your hand around him and winced, a close orgasm pulling your lips to an o as Rafe endorsed you. 

"Oh, she's close, J...you should see her face...let him see..." You turned to JJ as he groaned and pulled your ass wide and made deep strides to loosen you up. 

"You want his cock in your ass...you come for me..." Rafe groaned. "Like that...good fucking girl....show me I can trust you'll do what I want..." 

"Suck..." He ordered as you resumed your blowjob, him bucking into you as JJ kept you flat to the waves threatening your hips apart. 

"Make her come right now before I shoot my load down her throat...fuck-" Rafe held you down hard enough for you to gag. "That's right baby...choke on that cock...oh yeah...that's it...like that...fuck...cry for me..." 

"She's coming!" JJ basked as you gasped as Rafe withdrew and held your face to him to watch you come apart. 

"Princess, I've gotta be inside you somewhere...oh God..." JJ stood with his angry cock in his hand. 

"You earned it baby..." Rafe smacked your ass as you laid on your back, your head resting against Rafe's hip. 

"Fuck me, Maybank." You ordered.

"Wrap it up, pogue..." Rafe tossed a condom as JJ was lightning in applying the Trojan. He then stood between your legs and used your recent orgasms to lubricate the exterior. 

"Oh shit..." He groaned to how you already felt against him. 

"JJ..."

"I know sweetheart...I'm not gonna make you wait..." He shot an eye to Rafe before thrusting once inside, bottoming out instantly. 

"Fuck!" You breathed as Rafe turned your head to his cock. 

"Through your nose...I'm gonna come if I have to hear you come again." You basked in how both men contrasted. JJ was devoted to tenderness whereas Rafe was a machine and vulgar. 

"Wait!" You begged as you could feel yourself crest. 

"I want both of you!" You explained as Rafe's dick fell from your lips. 

Rafe hesitated. 

"I'm so fucking wet baby...please...next time it can be someone you want..." His brows raised. 

"You mean it baby?"

"Yes!" He smirked. 

"On your knees then..." Rafe angled you over him. 

"Let me get her ready for me and then we can share her..." You bit your lip. 

"Hurry up, baby or I'll have to finish myself..." You whimpered from the pulsation through your clit. 

"Oh fuck..." JJ groaned at the thought. 

"If you do...I'm gonna need your mouth on me, princess..." You nodded as he prepared for this before your hands came to his shoulders with a gasp from your lips. 

"Oh my GOD!" JJ looked down to see Rafe at your ass. His fingers preparing you for him. 

"You like that?" JJ asked as you dig your nails deeper. 

"Oh fuck…yeah..."

"I want your hand..." He guided your hand around him. "Just for a minute..."

"Oh...yes, yes! YES!"

"I'm not gonna take my fucking time, so you tell me when you're ready to take all of me..."

"Now! Please Rafe for the love of God, fuck me!"

"You love God or me?"

"Your cock!" You answered to spite him. 

"This one?" He thrust into that tight muscle as you fell against JJ.

"I need you too...'' JJ was softer before gasping against Rafe’s movements. 

"Slow down.-"

"Can't keep up then fuck your fist instead..." Rafe snapped as JJ steadied your hips softer as Rafe took hold of your breasts leaving claw marks and bruising. JJ kisses your neck as Rafe spoke profanities of hoe your ass look taking his cock. 

"It looks so fucking good baby...you take it all so good for me..."

"JJ..."

"All good princess..." He winced before you kissed him. Tongue entangled in his before he pulled back in a moan. "Not if you kiss me like that..."

"Make me come...please...I'm so close..." JJ took it upon himself to reach for your clit before Rafe sat up and started his hand away. 

"For fuck's sake, both do it!" They took turns, actually working together. 

"If she goes, I am..." JJ moaned. 

"Fuck, me too...baby I'm close...make me come...come one...more" He slapped your ass. 

"Yes! Ye-" 

"Fuck I'm...shit!" JJ came first, his body forcing yours into tremors, and finalizing with Rafe’s. But through the circuits, JJ became hard again. 

"Wait...wait I need more!" JJ threw you onto your stomach and took your ass for himself. A shorter orgasm that hit harder as you buried your head between rages legs. Your nails drawing blood on his thighs. 

"Looks like you might have some pogue in you after all..." Rafe teased JJ as he wiped his brow and disposed of the condom. 

"I think I was the one who had a pogue in me." Rafe rolled his eyes before kissing your lips. 

"Next time, I choose..."

"Anyone in mind?" To this, he only grimaced. That dangerous grimace of mischief you had come to know only meant torture. Delicious. Wet. Sticky. Torture. 

TAGLIST: @rafesmoon @maybankslover @puzziepoppin @gillybear17 @onclouds999 @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @belcalis9503 @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection @jjsprettybaby

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON 2ND MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON 3RD MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK 2ND MASTERLIST

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

I like your blog but I was disappointed to see you say it would ever be okay for Zutarians to have Katara and Zuko cheat on Aang and Mai in their fics if they acknowledged it is bad. Somethings can't be done right and need to just be kept out of any story. It's completely disrespectful to the Kataang and Maiko fans.

Also if I were you, I'd block the anon who said they could understand the appeal of Zucest even if they claim not to ship it, and in case you don't know, a blog you reblog from a lot hello-nichya-here likes that cursed shit so there's another one for your block list. Incest is gross and immoral even if it's fiction, and you'd be better off not interacting with that kind of people.

Buddy, I'm brazilian. I was raised on soap-operas. If I gave people shit for enjoying any media that involves the main characters selfishly cheating on their partners to be with each other, I'd be the world's biggest hypocrite. That kind of stuff is an easy source for drama, and it will always be part of romance stories - regardless of the quality of said romances.

As for it being disrespectful to Kataang and Maiko, yeah, I could see it, but only if it's combined with a bunch of slander towards these characters, and pulling stuff like "How I Became Yours" did by saying Mai was a terrible, abusive person for being angry that her husband cheated on her, or if it's shit like Zutarians constantly harrassing shippers about how Aang/Mai is totally being cucked. But if they're just writing as a source for drama in a story, without demonizing the characters that are clearly being screwed over by Zuko and Katara, I don't mind it.

Also I fully disagree with you on the "Somethings can't be done right and no one should write them." No topic should be forbidden in fiction, and what people should discuss is "Does this make narrative sense?" not "Is this a morally correct thing for people to do?"

How would that even work for the Avatar fandom anyways? "Sure, the original show is literally about war and genocide, and it is constantly praised for having an imperialist prince redeem himself and befriend the people he sent a hitman after, but if we write characters doing immoral things like cheating or sleeping with a relative THAT is going too far"

Sounds like one hell of a double-standard to me. And I've literally said it in my pinned post: This blog exists solely to point out the kind of behavior that made Zutara become such a hated ship, not to bully people that are just minding their business, or to tell them what tropes they are allowed to like. I don't like the idea of Zuko and Katara together at all, especially not with it involving them hurting Mai and Aang. But if the people writting these stories weren't constantly forcing it down everyone's throats, I wouldn't mind them adding that trope to every single fic they wrote.

As for the second part of your ask, I guess there's only one way for me to make my stance on Zucest VERY clear, so you and anyone else who could be bothered by it can decide if you want to keep following this blog:

Hello, Nichya here. I'm not going to use this side-blog to block my main, as I feel it would be kind of pointless to block myself considering the content in both accounts is coming from the same brain.

And see Zutara fans? It's super easy to only bring up your OTP when it is relevant to the conversation and without trying to force other's to like it, and it tends to get you far less hate too, no matter how "problematic" your ship is.

[bite-sized-devil]

What are your first vs last impression of the demon brothers?

@crazyyanderefangirlfan

Ok Yan, since it's you asking of course I'll answer!

Disclaimer: these are just MY impressions. Don't take offence if I insult your favs. I won't give a fuck anyway (if I'm being honest I actually will give a fuck so please don't make me cry! I'm soft ok!)

Lucifer first impression:

Why does this chest clutching motherfucker think he's so fucking great, yeah he's good looking so what? Did he not choose me to be the exchange student? Why is he giving me so much fucking attitude then? Fucking annoying first born, oh you think your life is hard? Try being the first daughter, I look after my entire family including my older brothers. Unbelievable.

Lucifer last impression:

Daddy let me make you feel good, are you stressed? What am I saying you're always stressed! Let me give you everything you want/need. Let me look after your brother's for you, take a break, get some rest, wanna fuck?

Mammon first impression:

He's so pretty! But why is he always so mean to me? We could be friends man but you're ruining it by all the annoying pushing me away shit. I definitely don't think you're trash? I am also very down to steal from the rich. Bring on the shenanigans! Let's annoy the shit out of everyone!

Mammon last impression:

He's my precious babygirl! My favourite little dumby! My partner in crime! Does mammoney want to cuddle? A kiss? A dollar? Something shiny? He can have it all and more! Out of curiosity/necessity can we fuck on that pool table? Or is that like not in the cards for us? Because I have trick cards that we can use so it becomes in the cards?? Interested? No? Just me? Okkkiee!

Leviathan first impression:

My third crush. Angry little e-boy needs to get fucked, and I'm willing to take that one for the team. I instantly liked him. I love insecure losers, because I am one! Now continue your 3 hour speech about that new anime you're into, I am listening, I am interested, I am wanting to kiss that silly little face of yours!!!

Leviathan last impression:

See first impression, it has not changed. I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOUR. Is what I'd say if I was on trial. He's just such a pathetic nerd and I love that. And you know what, he's got a huuuuge dick and no one can convince me otherwise.

Satan first impression:

Book worm also likes cats. Ok I can dig that, personally I was not fussed on him to begin with, I was like where's the fire? Mainly because he wasn't very into the surprise guest shit and I didn't think it was worth it to spend my dp's on his favourite food for every surprise guest visit. And then I did the gold hellfire newt syrup arc and I was like oh damn there's the fire. Ok ok ok, I can get on this Satan train. I'll buy a ticket to ride.

Satan last impression:

I LOVE FLIRTING WITH HIM!! It's so easy and quite endearing to have him become a blushing mess. Proud member of the anti lucifer league, it gets me the punishment I neeeed 🙏🙏🙏 I also have like a fuck ton of cat pictures on my phone and I know he'd love that.

Asmodeus first impression:

He's pretty, and pink! But kind of full of himself. Originally I wasn't super interested in him, but he kept doing all this cute shit that kept drawing me back in. I want to pet his pretty little head and tell him he's the prettiest little being in all three realms. 🩷

Asmodeus last impression:

Besties! Fuck buddies! Dancing partner! He'll be seeing all of my naughty pictures before I send them because he's the one taking them. I still think he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and I'll be telling him that every second of every day.

Beelzebub first impression:

B I G. Like hello up there can I get a kiss? My second crush that took over first place. How could he not? He's so sweet, I want to take care of him. I want him to fuck me senseless every single night. My goodness, when he blushes I swear my coochie swoons. Did I say big already? I did? Ok well I'm saying it again! B I G!!!!!

Beelzebub last impression:

My one truest love. My favourite biggest boi. My sweet pumpkin pie. I love him. I love him. I love him. I love him. I'm completely not normal about him! I can't be, he drives me insane. Fucking BIG!

Belphegor first impression:

My first crush actually! He's just so pretty, and soft spoken and angry and he's so fucking romantic when he wants to be. He blows me away. And the fact that he is fine with me wanting his twin too? My god could he be anymore perfect.....

Belphegor last impression:

Hehe now my second crush! His twin takes first place. Still everything the same as first impression, but like X10 because he killed me. *Swoons* don't ask me to explain, it's obvious.

Would love to hear your first/last impressions too Yan! Or anyone's actually 😂

@sassykattery @delphi-dreamin @attic-club-sandwich @kyungjoon-do @yourboyhack @yuujispinkhair

[dumbfinntales]

After about 45 hours I finally beat Lies of P for the first time. Man, how lucky am I to play three complete bangers of games in a row? Lies of P was an amazing game, not perfect, but truly a gem in the rough. Click more blelow to read my full thoughts!

So what is Lies of P? It's like if the "we have bloodborne at home" meme was genuine and you play as twink Pinocchio who fights against mechanical puppets. Sounds ridiculous, right? But the game makes it work. The world might be based on the story of Pinocchio, but it goes into so many different wild directions. The lore, the characters and most importantly the atmosphere are so superb that I kept forgetting that I'm playing as Pinocchio. I really do like the story they went for and there are a ton of nods to the original Pinocchio story.

Lies of P is a souls like and probably the best one I've played. It is the closest that any souls like game has reached Fromsoft level of quality and truly feel like it. And I'd go as far as to say that this game does reach Fromsofts quality. Everything feels so pristine and so fine tuned. The art direction is godly, the enemy designs are wild and varied, the bosses are brutal and the world and its atmosphere are great. And the game feels really good to play, for the most part. But I'll get to my criticisms later.

One thing that they did a bit different from Fromsoft are the story and characters. The characters were real fun and I quite grew to like them, Venigni and Polendina for example. There was a lot more dialogue to each character so you really got to know them and what their story is, while in most Fromsoft games their stories are tragic, but you don't really get to know them. The games story is also very straightforward and most things are revealed to you in time. So it's not your usual Fromsoft "figure things out on your own" type of story telling. It's quite refreshing actually and there were some really nice story twists and revelations along the way.

Like I said previously the game feels really good to play. The combat is top notch and feels a lot like Bloodborne when it comes to combat options and speed. I'll give bonus points to Lies of P that you can fully upgrade multiple weapons per playthrough, while in Bloodborne you can only do two. One criticism or irk or whatever you wanna call it is the parry timing. Many people have talked about his online, and I agree. The parry timing is strict and combine that with extremely delayed attacks and you're in trouble. I wish the parry was a little more lenient because learning the pixel perfect timing for each boss is quite tedious. And the more attacks a boss has the more tedious it is.

This is not a criticism per se, but holy shit this game is hard. Far harder than any Fromsoft souls game. In fact it might be one of the hardest games I've ever played. The balance is a bit all over the place though, like most levels and basic enemies are easy to deal with, but bosses and mini bosses are brutal. I was stuck on a mini boss for like 50 minutes. That's how long a boss should take, not a mid level elite enemy. The game is this difficult because it asks so much of the player. You are somewhat squishy so you die quickly, bosses are relentless and the parry timing are extremely strict. Some enemies in this game have these overly delayed attacks that hang in the air for long and come down in fraction of a second and you can't possibly react to that in time. You gotta see that attack multiple times until you can predict when it comes down accurately. Many bosses in this game took me more than an hour to beat.

But despite being stuck on most bosses for so long I still persevered. As a personal challenge I did everything solo as well and I never really felt frustrated. Dunno why, but Lies of P sparked my classic enjoyment for souls bosses that Elden Ring killed.

I'm not sure where I'd rank Lies of P yet, but I'm really looking forward to any possible DLC or continuation. This developer has truly showed that they know how to make a tough as nails yet fun game, and they know how to craft an interesting and twisted world. Using a classic fairy tale no less!

[schismusic]

One for Godflesh, my girlfriend and Dog

[Disclaimer: the following deals in an assortment of mental disorders (primarily depression and anxiety) and has relatively detailed descriptions of death, sexuality and a number of other amenities I can't really remember off the top of my head. Be warned.]

[Disclaimer 2 - Disclaim Harder: the following was written very feverishly at 2am a couple days ago. I did not like it when it was done. @oldshittydog told me to leave it be and since I can't think of anything better or more precise to say about the topics at hand, I will post it as-is, no editing except for formatting - which was not present in the original - and some minor punctuation/spelling edits to make things clearer.]

It was Dog, G., D. and I, and we were listening to Godflesh, way too late for me to still be up. The conversation obviously went on to be about Justin Broadrick's relationship with his very recent autism and PTSD diagnoses and that sort of spiralled into me writing yet another page of this bullshit. Godflesh is a very important band to me in that they are possibly the only industrial metal band worthy of being taken seriously. Also in that Justin Broadrick and Ben Green are part of that small list of things that were there for me more than most of my family during some of the hardest times I've had (see: the last active years of this blog). As usual, it was all my doing. Sometimes you do stupid shit and sometimes, just sometimes, you pay the price for it. I distinctly remember sitting in the middle of a full one-hour crying session I was having at the time and thinking "I know I fucked up and I deserve to feel bad about this, but what the fuck, there has to be a limit to this". A little while later I first listened to Christbait Rising and it hit me like a truck:

"Don't hold me back. This is my own hell".

The active belief that I held - that I was, in fact, in a personal form of hell - was an absolutely integral part of what I felt in the wake of those days; I guess being a teenager really is about being extremely dramatic when it isn't warranted. But it wasn't easy, that's for sure. Fuck a breakup, my main issue was that the breakup coincided with the end of high school, with the end of innoncence, with the end of my teens, to an extent one might argue with the end of my family as I knew it.

High school was terrifying. I met an old classmate of mine at my uni last year and inevitably we started talking about what it was like after the end of high school: I kept pretty reserved about it, not one to flaunt my shit years all around (you guys are the only one who get the displeasure to deal with them), while he went on and on and on about how fundamentally that experience had fucked him up - nightmares, anxiety and depression, therapy sessions, his relationship with his parents. He's a shaken man, to his core. He's also always been very vindictive and absolutely full of rage. There is an alternate reality where I am just like him, and that sort of scares me shitless - no disrespect intended. The studying wasn't easy either and I distinctly remember being stressed for my marks for weeks on end and it was gutwrenching. Walking home having to tell my mother about the measliest of failing marks was a horror story to me; to avoid confrontation I tried to stay under the radar to literally everyone*. All of my friends were in other classes. None of them talk to me anymore. Ironically enough, I have kept contacts with maybe four people from my old class (most of the others I wouldn't stand to meet ever again) and literally no one else from that school - except for my Physics teacher. He was a legend and a role model to 17-year-old me, and I still think very highly of him. My friend whom I met at uni told me he was very badly mistreated by him and that feeling of betrayal did become a bit hard to shake. Sometimes I miss the idea of getting a Physics degree. When I have to tell people who aren't up to speed that I am now studying cinema I still get ashamed, three full years in, about to get my bachelor's and about two years away from my master's.

I have done some pretty heinous shit to women. My relationship with sex was radically and pejoratively altered by my earliest sexual encounters, which for obvious reasons I am not about to describe here. Suffice it to say that the exertion of force - the idea of having to submit or be submitted - was just about a basic part of what happened; consent wasn't even a word that we knew, let alone considered. This doesn't make me any less responsible of all the absolutely insane behaviours I undertook, and I would never imply that I am free of guilt. I was broken, and like most so-called adult males in existence, the burden of guilt can be too much to bear for someone who is societally kept away from it on a systematic level. So I decided to fully immerse myself in this horrifying feeling for a while. This was possibly the best decision I could take at the time, despite what everyone said to me. The only person who, I think, ever saw it right away was S.: I remember being kind of blindsided by her very honest comment, "you deserve this" (with a red heart emoji right by the side), because no one had been as blunt and direct to me and it was liberating to see that my realization was valid and real, and that I was finally going through it the proper way instead of denying the evidence and hearing it denied back to me. Finally I knew I wasn't alone because someone was there, someone who despised me so openly and clearly I simply had to do better.

It was all fine and dandy being fifteen, chasing pussy and playing Half-Life a full seventeen years after its original release and then Half-Life 2 right that very same summer, getting to know about Filthy Frank and picking up a guitar to actually play with a band for the first time. Try doing that all over again when you're nineteen: it was Metal Gear Solid this time, simply. Hideo Kojima and heavy metal subgenres share a lot of similarities in my eyes in that they're both so big, obvious, bombastic with the way they express feelings and concepts that you're either enjoying them through the lens of a posh, post-modernistic ironic detachment or absolutely one hundred percent into them. Having to pretend you're "mature" and "serious" is something you can consider undertaking only when you're sixteen and spend way too much time on the Internet, and Godflesh was as instrumental as Hideo Kojima's work for me to understand that embracing big ass emotions espressed in an obvious way can be absolutely liberating, because both Godflesh and Kojima games are actually somewhat more elaborate than most would give them credit for - without sacrificing the gigantic emotion driving them. My first listen of Selfless was as liberating as the first time I finished MGS by myself: Gray Fox taught me that one must imagine Sysyphus happy, and Justin Broadrick taught me that not everyone can carry the weight of the world. Therefore it's okay to run the risk to be crushed by it.

We knew our great-uncle U. was about to leave this mortal coil. My mother spent the entirety of September 2017 with him, he was taken to a hospice to help him live out his last few days as peacefully as possible. Motherfucker looked remarkably like Charles Bronson (the actor, not the guy haunting British prisons), and acted quite like him too: sharp-tongued, fast-witted, spoke very little and very measuredly. He liked The Good, the Bad and the Ugly a lot and would routinely quote that one Eli Wallach line ("I get dressed, I kill him and be right back!") for no specific reason everytime he had to do something quickly. Some of my last memories of him include him, then aged 84, playing with my sister who couldn't have been older than 9: he would literally lie on the floor to play with her, then need help to be picked back up again. The kids would put a snapback hat on him and ask him to pretend to be a rapper and he would absolutely fucking do it, no questions asked, this fair-eyed beautiful motherfucker. When he left I think something fundamental broke in the equilibrium of my family, or rather the perception we had of it: everyone was game all of a sudden. Grandpa isn't feeling too well lately, and I'm always afraid my grandma will be swiftly following suit. I guess that's taking a bit of a toll on everyone involved, to be extremely euphemistic.

I'm guessing some of you might be thinking of me as some sort of unserious crybaby by now, someone who can dish it out but most definitely can't take it. You would be absolutely right. I have no defenses to raise because there is no point in raising any defenses anymore: what I did and did not do in the past is not a matter of debate, I must live with it and I was lucky enough to find people who did understand what I did - and decided to give me another chance. I am forever grateful to have gotten this second chance. Surprisingly enough, this is why the music of Godflesh now strikes me in a totally different way: it is no longer crushing in the teenage "hail satan \m/" way, and it is no longer a soundtrack to my competitive crying sessions. It can be elating and joyful. It can be a meditative experience. It can be a reminder that as bad as I have been I always have the opportunity to be better everyday and never let the past behind, facing myself everyday and learning to live with my weaknesses and my mistakes. Bee has been of massive help in this. I don't know whether she understood just how absolutely jaded I was when we began dating, but she's one badass motherfucker, too, and she's not taking anyone's shit - especially not mine. She was very clear to me: no mind games, no crybabying, no bellyaching. She was (and is) not there to baby me, and baby me she never did. As someone who has tried to escape from his mother's shadow all of his life, I really appreciate this. And I treasure and salute Bee - someone who's simply too stubborn and too smart to let an asshole like me drain her happiness away, and someone who I am dearly in love with. The fact that she loves me back is mindblowing to me, but I guess I could take it as a testament that I am, in fact, being a better person.

When we were done listening to Selfless, I showed Dog the song Don't Bring Me Flowers and its relative remix from the Merciless EP, Flowers. They told me they loved them. They were having "an experience" to them. I will forever treasure Dog's opinions because their choices of words are always so writerly and precise and one might even argue ornate to an extent; their writing singlehandedly made me fall in love with the act of writing again. I have never been more jazzed up to open a Notepad page and just let loose. I wrote some fiction for the first time in literal years and they were the first person I showed it to. They are, most likely, gonna be proof-reading this too (even though it's more for quality control, which I need given these are essentially just long streams of consciousness that I only thinly overlay with an overarching structure. I think this one isn't as good as the last one - too thematically sprawling, not enough threads being tied, it's a bit of a mess, but that's how it goes tonight). I treasure Dog's friendship dearly.

*as I was proof-reading this post, I realized that just today I bought a beautiful print by a very talented artist going by the handle @faida-acquifera on Instagram. The print says something to the effect of "I have tried multiple times to disappear and attained the opposite effect". I guess that felt relevant to add, since I didn't even remember writing the particular sentence I'm annotating.

[system-of-a-feather]

Feathers Story Time

So context to the hair shit with XIV, way way way way way way way way way back when XIV and I were still tearing at eachother's throats in a competition for dominance and who is "the real one" between the two of us - XIV 1.0 had a HUGE thing out for pissing me off any chance he could and trying to assert his existence over mine and basically taking any and every opportunity to remind me that he was in fact planning to take shit over at that he has the perseverance to get what he wants. He's admitted it to be chronic and passive psychological warfare and basically a passive way of terrorizing me with the intent that if he stressed me out enough I'd shut down and it'd be an easy grab.

And two of the many passive micro-reminders were 1) Lets get tattoos and 2) We will dye our hair white. And so when he started to turn around, he was STILL a snarky annoying asshole - but he lessened all the not-petty actually more harmful things and maintained his more petty ones cause admittedly it was kinda a nice mutual way to vent our inherent need to buttheads while we were still going from very negative enemies to where we are today. So when we weren't constantly chummy - it served to fill the conflict need by maintaining a sense of that "oooooh imma get you. im more determined and perseverant than you are a stubborn control freak" and a "no I am ignoring you because I am more stubborn and a control freak than you can last"

Which ORIGINALLY was genuine aggressive back and forth, cause XIV would always one up me back when it was genuine with a "no, you aren't. I can already tell you are waning in your effort and besides, I never loose, so by nature, you will loose" and he wouldn't be wrong cause honestly, at the time - the amount being able to self express himself as a host meant to him (and thus customizing the body to his taste) was a lot more than my arbitrary reactionary "No." and love for a pointless aesthetic status quo and HONESTLY it used to genuinely stress me out and he was right that if we hadn't worked on our dynamic, he probably could have stressed me out enough to win overall

But like again, as we developed into more of the dynamic we currently have, we really maintained the hair and tattoo saga as a banter that went from genuine to semi-genuine and now at this point it's just the principle and long term friendly competition on which parts of our brain has more stamina.

Cause in the semi-genuine phase, the content wasn't as much what we were arguing over so much as a "is XIV capable of imposing himself over my will" and that being a thing we actually quietly cared about even when we knew it wasn't something healthy for our dynamic because for me - admitting that he could still made me feel insecure and a bit frightened cause of his old rhetoric and for XIV it was a principle of his own principles of "never loosing"

(which has since changed his understanding of "never loosing" so while he still holds it, it is a much more mature version than just this petty level - in modern though, he intentionally holds onto that old XIV 1.0 definition SOLELY for this)

And so in that semi-genuine phase it was him holding up his pride and dedication to his pride of never loosing VERSUS my stubborn denial to acknowledge that XIV is more stubborn than me because honestly I am a bit proud of my stubbornness as - much like his principles and dedication to dominate and get needs met, my genre of stubborn has not only kept us safe but got us where we are today

And so in the MODERN era

The hair conflict is a very friendly nostalgic banter that rather than competition of insecurities and stuff, it's a competition to acknowledge the STUPIDITY of both of our "super powers" as parts.

The longer the conflict goes, the more we can acknowledge XIV's ability to focus down and dedicate himself to a cause and goal and maneuver obstacles to get where he wants

The longer the conflict holds, the more we can acknowledge my stubborn dedication to my idealism and most importantly, my dedication to serving as host for the system and just genuinely - for better or worse - how strongly the system can rely on me to not budge my ground when it matters

That being said, there is an unspoken mutual understanding that I will infact eventually cave in on the sole account that 1) XIV is more perseverant than I am stubborn because his perseverance is more ingrained and backed by his personal life experiences, trauma, and roll + the more he gets challenged the more he gets fight response set off which makes him more dedicated and its a frightening loop 2) we both acknowledge this is the stupidest of stupid conflicts since hair can be dyed, cut, grown out, etc whenever

And with THAT being said, we both still keep it up because in the end, we both - while different in most depictions - have a warrior's bond where it's not the content that matters but the principle of not giving up the ground to a rival XD

And this shit started to become an inside joke and meme in the system cause like after a year and a half of it - XIV would pester about it almost every day or anytime we saw a platnium blonde person or white haired character with a "Hey Riku, you know we should dye our hair white" as if it was a NEW SUGGESTION EVERY TIME then go quiet for like a month or so on it, let me get my guard down then randomly

"Hey ya know, Riku, I was thinking" "Yeah?" "We should dye our hair white" "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME ITS BEEN X YEARS"

And once again

Once again, I was like ah. Its been like three or more months since he bothered me about it. Maybe he's gotten bored of it and no longer wants to bother with such a stupid petty argu-

Him: HEY TUMBLR TIPS ON DYEING HAIR POST NOW

and im just like

fucking hell

what the fuck XIV

It's been three years.

Three years of this constant pestering.

Here's the thing

For the pastl ike four days before he posted that

Everytime

Im on youtube

And that one Danny Phantom or something close to it guy comes up in youtube shorts

"Hey you know Riku, if we dye our hair white then when it grows longer we could have that really near bleached-nature kinda dynamic he has" "Hey you know Riku, gotta admit its an aesthetic good look" "You know Riku, I think I really deserve to live my white hair dreams ya know? What do you think?" "Have you ever considered how neat it would be to have white hair?" "You know now that we have a job that wouldn't care about us looking weird or extra we should TOTALLY dye our hair white" "Okay heres a deal, I'll stop asking about tattoos for a while if we dye our hair white. I mean dyeing your hair is a lot less permanent then tattoos no?" "Hey you know, that hair dye is on sale, I mean its probably really bad and not what we want cause you dont wanna cheap out on that, but ya know, it gets me thinking. We should probably bleach our hair."

AND EVERY TIME HE ACTS LIKE HES MENTIONING THE IDEA FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER

WHEN HES BEEN DOING IT FOR THREE YEARS

AND DOING IT FOR EVERY DAY FOR LIKE TWO OR THREE WEEKS BEFORE GOING SILENT FOR A MONTH OR TWO THEN COMING BACK AND HARRASSING ME EVERY DAY

JESUS CHRIST

this is why im going to loose

[mayamacall]

O My God

Summary: The avengers were on a mission, leaving you and bucky alone.

Warning: bref smut, y/n is tony's best friends, fluff.

The sound of skin slapping and moaning fill the room. You and bucky were curntly on main room couch, the tv was playing in background but you didn't pay any mind to. Both of where to busy lost in each other. you riding bucky's cock right now he was so deeper that you couldn't form a sentens.

"you love riding my cock don't you, huh " bucky monaed right next to your era.

you and bucky were all alone in the compound. The original plan was to watch family guy but how could you keep your hands off him when he is looking so goddam good in that blue shirt. After 1 or 2 episodes you were on bucky's lap. your panties push to the side and his cock barred deep in your pussy.

being tony starks best friend has its pros and cons. tony had 3 simply rules

you can use tony's credit card when even you. no limits.

always cover for tony when pepper asks for something he forgets to do.

and the most important rule is (well was) not to sleep or date any avengers.

so the last one went to flames

" so good bucky, so deep" you moaned as he hit the soggy spot. you were getting closer to your release. and bucky knew that so he grabbed your hips and thrust upwards.

"oo yes, yes, yes bucky fuck" you cursed you were so close but then you heard high pitched scream. you and bucky were so lost in pleasure you didn't realize the avenger was back early. they weren't supposed to be back for 2 weeks.

" My eyes, My eyes, somebody burn them," sam said yelling and covering his eyes with both of his hands.

"O My God , come on guys we sit on the couch," Clint said

" You owe me 100 bucks Roger, and told you so," nat said with a grin. of course, she knew something was happening.

" But how he would have told me, wow buck I expected more from you, what happened to til the end of the line pal," steve said almost disappointed and all so happy to know that his best friend found someone.

you and bucky were now standing in front of them, clothes fix. everyone has said something but the person you were most afraid to tell about your's and bucky's relationship was tony. And yet he just stood there.

"tony look before you say anything" "I-" "No let me finish," you said cutting him off. You take a breath in and-

"Bucky and I are dating, and are very much in love," you said letting a breath out. you have to say you do feel a weight off your back.

tony looked between you and bucky. Everyone thought he was going to shoot bucky. bucky was ready to run and you were ready to run with him. but it never came.

"I know y/n," Tony said with a calm look

you on the other hand were losing your shit, what does he mean he knows, did he hear you- did he see you and bucky on the couch, did you hear tony right, or maybe you are dreaming or-

"What do you mean you know," bucky said putting a hand around your waist, calming you down.

Everyone was as confused as you and bucky were. Everyone was expecting tony to Tell bucky to leave or shoot him, not the he knew.

"What do you think, you both of are sneak and won't find out, please I know everything" he said sitting on one of the chairs.

Everyone looked a tony with a questionable look.

"Tony" you warned he, if he doesn't tell you how he knows you will do something wrong to him.

"you think you will have sex in my lab I won't find out or the kitchen or the jet" he standing up waking up to you and bucky.

"you both had sex in the jet"

"dude we eat in kitchen"

"tonys lab nice"

"hold on, you knew and didn't do anything to separate us" you said shooed.

"yeah I was mad at you at first. but then I realized that I can't do anything about it. if I separate both of you I will be breaking your heart and if I told you I knew you would feel like you betrayed me, so kept quiet and trust me it was not easy." Tony said

You where to shooked to say anything-so instead of saying anything you hugged him and he hugged you back.

"thank you for not breaking us up or hating me" you said baring your self In the crook of his neck.

"yeah yeah, ok get off me now" he said paring your shoulder.

"thank you tony it does mean a lot to me and y/n" bucky said with a smile, as you came to his side.

"yeah whatever, just don't break her heart or I will break your face" tony said with a warning face.

"oh you don't have worry about that I promise you I will never hurt her on purpose" bucky said all seriously.

"yeah his to in love with me to hurt me and even if he did I just break his face my self" you said smirk.

"that's my girl" Tony said gaving you a high five.

**********************************************

[impuretale]

Alright - Headcanon Asks yeah?

All of them! Every last one for a character in the Stand. Which character for each headcanon up to you.

Okay [cracks knuckles] I can try that! I may wind up going back to a few more than others but it just tells you which ones I do the most thinking on. Also by and large this is specific to the 2020 miniseries but will figure in wider canon sometimes.

SO

Headcanon meme ask list is here.

☾ - Larry Underwood's dreams and visions, even those alluding to Mother Abagail, are as disturbing as they are at the start of the series because he's still taking coke. Hence why his vision of her calling him to come and see her is intermixed with that of his dying mother.

★ - Joe/Leo Rockway still has dreams about both Larry and Mommy Nadine as he grows up.

☆ - Kojak the dog fathers puppies and lives a good, long dog life.

☠ - Lloyd Henreid's gold tooth that appears after arriving in Vegas, is not purely cosmetic. One of the first people who wound up on the telephone poles didn't understand the pecking order yet and thought he was an easy target to take a swing at, and while Lloyd scrapped back, Flagg finished the matter by establishing that he picks his soldiers and they are off limits.

✿ - Flagg is very accustomed to his partners passing out before the end and tends to hit such a devastatingly huge dip in adrenaline afterward that he could probably benefit from aftercare, which never happens because his partners are out. When your mind is open to the eldritch horrors and arriving leaves everything exposed and unguarded, you don't experience post-nut clarity so much as post-nut disparity. This is not a big enough deterrent to warn him off from the practice itself, but then it is very canon that he finds this kind of exposure necessary, even if unpleasant. Wizards, amirite?

■ - Glen Bateman tends to live in clutter. Where he puts something down is just where it lives which means his home dwelling can contain a lot of organized piles of stuff -- it looks like a mess and on occasion he will be very "shit I need to clean I'm out of surfaces" but he knows where everything is.

♡ - Lloyd Henreid is in love with Randall Flagg and doesn't really expect anything from it -- he isn't afraid of him as Julie thinks he is. What he's afraid of is the notion that Flagg only tolerates him. This leads to him trying too hard to be accommodating, on occasion.

♥ - Fran ignores or rebuffs Harold's romantic advances because even if her feelings go beyond "kid I used to babysit that I thought was annoying when I was a teenager" it is not romantic in origin -- she also projected a lot of her little brother onto him, who died when he was little. So him making it after Trips was bittersweetly important because he has always been the younger sibling that made it. Even if it is something she distanced herself from because childhood trauma is hard to deal with as a kid and a teenager, and her friendship with his sister made it a quietly kept secret. She recognizes that's unfair and not something he asked for, but she didn't ask to be the object of his unrequited affections either.

☮ - On the way to Boulder, Glen went fishing a few times with Stu, which seemed to relax him. They would usually catch things and Glen would joke, if they did not, that his loud speechifying scared the fish away.

♦ - Stu cannot play any instruments and his singing is for the shower and the radio only.

☯ - Harold loves PayDays (canon) but absolutely hates fruity candies. After trick or treating he and his sister would barter for their favorites and his willingness to let go of higher-value candy like chewing gum for chocolate meant it was a largely pleasant experience where neither sibling had much reason to steal from each other's stashes.

▼ - Fran hates swimming and can only do it because her parents made her take lessons when she was a kid.

∇ - Assuming my New Game+ theory re: the 2020 miniseries and Flagg holds water, Mother Abagail is also just as aware that events have transpired before and is less ruffled by Flagg because she's literally had these conversations with him multiple times.

♒ - Flagg has a sweet tooth (book/TDT canon) -- with a fully stocked kitchen and permission to fuck around and find out, Lloyd discovered this when he made deep fried oreos and then almost didn't get to have any.

☼ - Lloyd Henreid's XIX tattoo is an easter egg but he got it because it was his first tattoo, on his 19th birthday, and he couldn't think of anything else cool to get.

ൠ - Randall Flagg has no pop culture memories from after 1994. His car has a tape deck because it doesn't occur to him that cars wouldn't have one. He keys into new music pretty quick but all his favorites and the ones that get stuck in his head are from well before that and come from a variety of places.

[woodlandwildfolk]

For a writing request how about some headcannons an amnesiac TFA Optimus getting recruited by the Society of Ultimate villany into being their newest member?

My first tfa ask 🥺

So as per usual the members of the society of ultimate villainy manage to escape prison

Captain fanzone is fuming and is heard muttering something about machines as he leaves to do the paperwork required after the break out

Something about security bots being easy to evade

The SUV meet at their hideout in the clock factory to formulate a plan

"come on fellas tell me your ideas, we need a plan, a scheme, a move. Something that can't be stopped by those autobots"

"I say we hit 'em hard and fast"

"what did I say about violence!!"

"hold your horses, lassie"

After some squabbling and straying far from the original purpose they accept the fact that they can't defeat the autobots without an edge

And so nanosec reveals a little secret that he'd kept hidden from them until that point

When they first met swindle he found a little device on his floormats with the words temporary memory scrambler etched onto it

He quietly pocketed the thing and didnt mention it

So now they have the edge they were looking for and all they need is a 'bot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Optimus was out on patrol late at night near lake eerie

He transformed to bot mode and took a few slow invents to let himself unwind from all the weight he carries because of his position as leader

Sometimes he wishes he could just close his optics and not have to deal with anything and everything for a while

What he didn't know is that wish would come true very soon in a very unexpected way

He saw a black figure in his peripheral vision and before he could turn around to see what it was he felt something latch to the back of his helm and an electric shock run through his frame before he was lulled to stasis

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Optimus onlined his optics to find himself flat on the floor

He sat up to find himself surrounded by a group of four creatures who looked familiar but he couldn't quite place how he knew them

The smaller of the four sat on a levitating machine and the one in green held an arrow poised and ready to strike

The two in front of him, the one in black and the other in purple started to speak to him

"hello optimus, you seem dazed. Do you remember what we were doing?" asked the one in purple

He was about to stutter out a response when the one in black cut him off

"well slowmo, looks like our friend is ready to get back to the mission right, op?"

Optimus looked at the group again and didn't know what to make of them but apparently they are friends? They're on a mission??

He felt awkward about not knowing them and something in the back of his processor kept telling him that something was off- and those two in the back pointing weapons at him weren't helping either

"y-yeah, I think? Remind me again what the mission was?" he decided to play along until he could figure out what was going on

Because something was definitely up with those four

Like primus why was that small one in pink glaring at him like that!?

The SUV took optimus to a mall and asked him to break down the entrance

Okay he may not remember shit but he definitely feels like he shouldn't be doing this

He's just kinda stands in front of the entrance and awkwardly looks to it and back to those ppl who claim to be his friends and he doesn't know what to do

Everytime he tries to touch the entrance he gets this feeling he should turn around and bail but they're all just staring at him and he doesn't wanna disappoint them cause what if they are his friends?

While he was stuck in his indecisiveness nanosec climbs up his back and breaks a window open and goes through to open the door from the inside

And in his rush he didn't notice that he kicked the memory wiper and it shifted a little

Optimus felt another electric shock go through his processor and the feeling of being disoriented started to fade a little

And that kid was still staring at him with the most disgruntled look a child's face could bear like what's up with that kid??

They stepped inside the mall after nanosec opened the door and the alarm was going off

Optimus was really unnerved by the alarm but everyone else seemed more interested in filling up this bags theyre carrying with all kinds off stuff

He strayed further in the mall and around that time the police sirens could be heard outside

They turned around to see the police cars through the mall's windows after they finished their looting- as the man in green put it, optimus noted

The police weren't alone tho and optimus noticed a figure of yellow shouting something about letting his friend go

Optimus started to put two and two together and settled for the fact that the people doing the actions that made him feel sick were definitely not his friends and the fact that the only other mechanical being he saw since he woke up seemed to dislike them as much as he figured he did, not that he could remember but thats not gonna stop him from knowing what right

The fighting stance he took came to him naturally and he didn't know why but he was grateful for his instinct because that little girl looked livid at that point

"uuggh! Stupid robots! Stupid violence! I don't like it!" yelled out professor princess, optimus noted he remembered her name this time

She pointed her wand at him and sent a blast of that obnoxiously named thing that she shoots you guys can probably tell I don't really like her but let's keep going

Although optimus' fighting protocols were kicking in they weren't fast enough with the wiper still partially attached to him

He took the blast and fell on his back for the second time that day and took a hit to his helm

He woke up to the night sky greeting him and with the stars flashing bright and strong

Almost as strong as the processor-ache he had but he doubted anything could be as bad as what he feels right now

He got up to find bumblebee standing next to captain fanzone and the SUV being taken away by cops

Apparently he missed the fight

Not that he was complaining but he might as welm have fought with the pain tbrobbing in his helm right now

When they got back to the base ratchet checked up on him and explained that the wiper was broken and it could have left some lasting effects if was working properly but that was last thing on optimus' processor right now

He went to his room and laid down on his berth and stared up at the sealing recounting the events of the day

He almost helped the SUV raid a mall

But he didnt tho

And even if he wasn't meant to be a hero as ultra magnus says

He at least knows that even when he doesn't know who he is, he still does the right thing

And that will be enough for him, if he can't be a hero

Since that is what ultra magnus said

Sorry anon if it got kinda bittersweet at the end but I'm having optimus feels rn </3

Anyway I hope you liked it <3

From now on all my writing will be tagged with #ghost writes if anyone's interested

[glytchedmuffins]

Ben went through so much shit since he was 10 that he is honestly in a dire need for a therapist.

And since canon didn't give him one, I will:

––––––––––

Name: Sh'Suri

Species: Ectonurite

Occupation: Therapist

Sh'Suri, unusually for her species, decided to leave the Anur system to explore the world outside it solely out of curiosity, wanting to know what else was out there.

She saw a lot of things in those first years of her travels, and has met a lot of beings too, though for most of it she just looked on with mild interest, if not complete disinterest.

However, something did catch her interest.

That being everyone's reaction to her.

Fear, distrust, disgust and so much more, all directed at her for merely existing. There were some who looked at her in indifference or even intrigue, but those were rare.

Now, she was sure many would have been hurt or offended by that, but to her, it was all so fascinating.

Why did they think like that? Why did her powers, the sound of her voice, the way she speaks and even the mere sight of her cause such reactions? Back on her planet she was considered quite the catch, which seemed to be the opposite anywhere else. Why is the way these species view these things so differently? She knew it wasn't simply because of their culture, though it did still play a part, since their reaction to seeing a simple glimpse at what's under her protective layer caused negative reactions, which seemed more of an instinctive reaction than a taught one.

She soon became interested in how the brains of other species work and why they think the way they do, especially when it comes to the more darker thoughts they have.

Sh'Suri wanted to know all there was to know about the most darkest recesses of the minds of as many beings as she could.

The problem was that, in order to do so, she needed them to actually tell her about them, her species weren't capable of reading minds after all, but no one would willingly tell her anything if she just went up to them and asked.

So, she'll have them come to her instead.

Becoming a therapist seemed the best way to do it, seeing as a give and take situation. They give her all the interesting bits hidden in their psyche, and she in turn helps them heal. 

A win-win situation in her mind.

Getting accepted into an education facility, however, wasn't easy in the slightest, since most wouldn't even hear her out and not to mention she didn't have the currency that is used outside the Anur system, but eventually, when she tried entering one of the many education facilities on Galvan Prime, she got accepted.

She was nearly rejected again, though that  time it was mostly because Galvans are stuck up and only accept the very best, but, fortunately for her, the grandmaster of the facility took notice of her, specifically her species and that she was from the Anur system. Essentially nothing was known about the system and the species within it, so the grandmaster made a deal with her: She would be allowed to attend for free as long as she kept her grades up and answered some questions and took some tests, all within reason of course.

Needless to say she agreed and ended up being one of the top graduates of the institution.

At first Sh'Suri didn't get many clients, but over time her reputation grew and it increased her workload.

She mainly dealt with major trauma related patients, since those are the most intriguing to her. The bigger the trauma, the better.

Until eventually, she got assigned to one Ben Tennyson, who ended up being her favorite patient to analyze.

––––––––––

Now, originally I did not intend on having her be an Ectonurite, but when the idea came along I had to go with it.

Wanted Sh'Suri to be not malicious at all, but still have that creepy Ectonurite feel to her, especially with her very morbid curiousity. I hope I got that across.

Sh'Suri will also appear in my AU, though only in Omniverse since before then Ben refused to go to therapy and he only actually accepted that his mind is a wreck after the whole Malware's return arc.

She'll kind of tie in with the whole Ghostfreak (the actual transformation not Zs'Skayr) arc I am having for Ben, and the Omniverse Anur arc, mostly just by being not only an Ectonurite who doesn't want to harm him, but also being the first Anur citizen Ben meets who doesn't want to harm him.

[allyricas]

Broken (but not beyond repair) pt. 1

Author's notes: Pairing: Steve Harrington/Original Female Character any romantic pairings will be 18+ and I will tag for any warnings/ratings. There will be eventual smut. Also, Eddie is OFC's ex-best friend and not the nicest originally. He will eventually be the Eddie we know and love, but it's gonna take awhile. I haven't decided about whether to make this a steddie/OFC yet. I've named the character, but kept it vague as far as skin color and appearance for the readers. Not edited by anyone but me, so feel free to let me know about any glaring errors. I haven't written since I was into the teen wolf fandom years ago, so be gentle please. Brief mentions of CSA and abuse. current word count: 3500 whoops.

Summary: After her best friend Eddie breaks her heart, Catarina ends the friendship and moves on. She gets close to Robin and Steve, eventually getting involved with all the danger that Hawkins brings. As she gets closer to Steve and has to learn to fight for what's important to her, what will she do when Eddie is eventually dragged into the danger as well?

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You first met Eddie Munson in the sixth grade. He’d ran right into you outside the school, knocking you both to the ground. He’d apologized and you’d shrugged. You were already used to being bullied. You were overweight and you didn’t fit in with the other kids. Hitting puberty before everyone else just made it all worse too—like did you need to get your period at the end of third grade or have a C cup by fourth? With Jenna Williams and her little lackeys constantly mooing at you, you learned to be quiet and just try and get through the day. They would wait until you were in the bathroom and throw things at you, tell you how ugly you were and that no boys would ever like you. Even the younger kids would bully you. Jason Carver especially seemed to hate you. He would trip you and pull your hair. It was hell, at least until a scrawny, weird kid with a shaved head had nearly given you a concussion when he sent you sprawling into the concrete head first.  

The first words he’d said to you were “oh shit I'm sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going... I’m Eddie Munson. Shit. Shit. Uh, your head is bleeding!” 

You stared at him for a minute, dazed and confused because this boy was talking to you without being mean. He was saying sorry. And then he helped you to the clinic and refused to leave, adamant that he would stay with you until your mom came to pick you up. And then he never left your side. You became best friends. You’d race home to do your homework so that you could go ride bikes to the quarry with him. He showed you all his metal and you showed him all your books. It turned out you really didn’t care for most of the heavier metal, but he loved fantasy and science fiction. You both loved campy horror movies and Halloween. You both knew what it felt like to have shitty families and trauma from abuse. You both knew the pain of being different and hated by your peers.  

And God, did Eddie make it easy for you to care about him. His adorable doe eyes, and warm laugh. The way he would hold your hand or gently tug on your hair. How he would always get tapes for you from the music store even when it was music he didn’t like. You knew about his dad and all the things he went through before moving in with his uncle Wayne. He knew about your dad and the abuse and the bullying. He stood up for you when Jenna or Jason would say things to you in the hallway. You would seethe at anyone who called him a freak for wearing nail polish or liking metal. You were each other’s safe haven until you weren’t anymore.  

You knew you loved him. Nearly right away he’d stolen your heart. Eddie Munson had wormed his way right into the essence of your soul. There was a part of you that simply belonged to him and always would. As you both grew older and Eddie became less of a boy and more of a man. A very handsome one, with long hair and stupidly sexy hands—tall and beautiful. His voice was no longer higher pitched, but deeper in a way that felt dangerous. He’d speak to you and sometimes, you felt it everywhere. But you knew Eddie didn’t see you that way. You saw the way his eyes followed the cheerleaders. You saw how he’d stare at Jenna or her little underlings. He stared the most at Chrissy Cunningham even though she was a few years younger than you both. She was beautiful and thin with long blonde hair. She always had a placid smile on her face, hand in hand with Jason Carver of all people. And yet, you watched Eddie pine after her. It didn’t worry you too much but it certainly hurt.  

When Eddie started dealing, you didn’t judge. He needed the money and besides, it meant you could smoke for free. Word spread and by senior year, Eddie was the dealer. He went to the parties and all the popular kids suddenly noticed him even if they still called him a freak. You still felt invisible most of the time. Then you graduated and He didn’t. Then He didn’t again. You managed to stay best friends, even though it would be harder with Eddie was still in high school. You knew Eddie saw you as his best friend, but never as anything else. He had a certain charisma about him though. You saw the other girls notice him. You saw the way they giggled as he strutted by despite his being a super senior—maybe it was like a bad boy type of deal. Between having a band and the best drugs, you knew he was probably hooking up with girls. Regardless of how you felt, you refused to let it affect your friendship. It was on a normal Friday afternoon when everything changed forever. Eddie had been distant for a few weeks, but you knew he was busy so you tried not to worry about it. As you sat on his old couch about to watch a stupid movie, he seemed like he was about to burst with energy.  

“Alright, Ed. What is wrong with you? Did you take something? You are like vibrating dude.” you asked him, a little concerned but trying to play it off. He was acting so strange today. Tense. But excited. “Come on, just tell me. You always do anyways.” 

“Yeah, I need to tell you something. I can’t believe it even happened. I mean, I've dreamed about it, sure. But fuck. Chrissy kissed me. In the woods, at my spot. She came to buy weed and I was flirting a little. Uh, next thing I know, she’s kissing the hell out of me.” Eddie exhaled; eyes wide. You felt your stomach drop and your heart shatter. You knew it wasn’t fair to feel that way, but damn it hurt. And you also knew that Chrissy and Jason were still together. You’d seen them just yesterday at the coffee shop. They’d sat in the corner, laughing and cuddling (not even ordering anything) and you remember thinking they seemed happy. Even though Eddie had been crushing on her for years, you liked Chrissy. She was kind for a cheerleader and she didn’t participate in any bullying directly. She often would scold others quietly if things got out of hand. She seemed a little lost sometimes. Like maybe, she had been through something—you could usually recognize that in other people. You worried she was using Eddie to deal with whatever that something was.  

“Ed. Chrissy and Jason are still together. Is she breaking up with him?” you sighed. You didn’t want to have this conversation but you cared enough to do it anyways.  

“I don’t know. We decided to keep it a secret for now. Jason is a dick. She doesn’t want to deal with the drama of a breakup.” Eddie crossed his arms. You could see his defenses were going up. “I have liked her for years, Cat. I have got to go for it.” 

“She is going use you while she hangs all over Jason. You deserve better than being a dirty secret. You...I …I just." You stopped, your words failing you for a moment. “I think Chrissy is struggling with something and she’s trying to escape and she is trying to use you to numb whatever it is. I know what that looks like. So do you, and I just don’t want you to get hurt, I care about you so much Ed.” 

“You’re just fucking jealous.” he scoffed. His face was red and you noticed his eyes, pupils small and hands shaking.  

“Please don’t be with Chrissy. Eddie, I care about you. Do you understand what I am saying? I would be so happy to show you off to the whole world. I would try to make you happy. You deserve someone who will see you and love you. Ed, I love you.” the words spilled out before you could stop them. Your heart sank because you said the three words you swore you would never say out loud. And you could not take them back now. You had talked to Eddie many times about how you felt like no one would ever want you romantically. That you felt undesirable and unlovable. That it was a big source of anxiety and pain for you. You had cried in his arms, worried that you would always be damaged goods—broken beyond repair. He’d just rubbed your back while you cried and told you that it wasn’t true. That someday you would find someone who wanted you.  

“Um. What do you mean ‘you love me’...like as a friend” Eddie asked, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. He stared, waiting for you to answer him.  

You took a deep breath. There was no going back now. You had to be honest.  

“I love you. Not just as my best friend. I want to be more than friends. I’ve felt this way for a while, but I was scared to tell you. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” You were barely able to whisper out the words. You felt your eyes sting and you blinked back the tears.  

“I don’t love you like that. I want Chrissy. I’ve wanted her for a long time. I’m not giving up a chance to be with her over you. You're my best friend, but I could never want you that way.” he replied coldly. His arms were crossed and he was glaring at you. He was now shaking all over. You could smell that he’d been drinking, you hadn’t noticed before being so caught up in the Chrissy revelation.  

“Ed, you’re drunk. Are you on drugs, too?” you asked, hoping this was why he was being so mean to you. It was fine if he didn’t feel the same way. Okay, your heart was broken, but you’d get past it because it was Eddie and your friendship meant everything to you.  

“Catarina, I don’t want you. No one does. You are a great friend, but just not the girl that anyone falls for. Sad truth.” He was trying to hurt you on purpose. He was furious you’d said Chrissy was using him. Furious you weren’t happy for him. Furious he had to deal with this bullshit instead of hanging out with you. So, he dug the knife in deeper. “I don’t want damaged goods. You are broken beyond repair Catarina. I don’t want your daddy’s sloppy seconds, that’s fucking gross.” 

He threw your own words and pain back at you. The part of you that had once belonged to Eddie shriveled. You let all the anger and hurt take over and carved out every single part of your heart that had been infected by Eddie fucking Munson and you burned it. You know he’s lashing out and fucked up on alcohol and drugs. You know he has his own traumas that he refuses to work through, but you won’t ever let someone speak to you this way. Take words you told them in confidence and have them weaponized against you. You were done with him. Not just as the boy you once loved, but as your best friend.  

“Munson, fuck you. Don’t you ever fucking talk to me again. Don’t look at me. Don’t fucking think about me. Go be Chrissy fucking Cunnigham’s slutty little secret and rot in hell.” And you stormed out of his trailer and out of his life.  

The next day he tried calling a few times, confused as to why you didn’t show up to his show at the hideout. You always went. Finally, after the fifth time, you answered the phone. “Hello, Connor residence. This is Cat.” 

“Cat, what the fuck. Why didn’t you come to the show tonight?” Eddie whined. Your head started to spin. What planet is he on?  

“I told you to not to call me or talk to me. Leave me alone. Stop calling me.” You hung up the phone. How dare he call you like nothing happened. The phone started to ring again.  

“What don’t you understand about ‘leave me the fuck alone’ Munson?” 

“Wait, Cat. Don’t hang up. What happened last night? I was so fucked up on pills and I was drinking Wayne’s shitty whiskey. Did I say something to piss you off?”  

“Don’t ever call me again. I don’t want to talk to you. You shattered our friendship and I’m certainly repeating any of the bullshit you were spouting last night. Fuck off.” You hung up the phone, ripping the jack from the wall. You went upstairs and crawled into bed. This was your last summer before community college. You had to work early in the morning. You needed to find new friends. You wanted to move out of your mom’s house and start your life. But tonight, you just needed to cry over the boy you thought would always be by your side and who had broken your heart more than you thought possible.  

______________________________________________________________

Two weeks after walking out of Eddie’s trailer, you’d walked into the Family Video. Your friend from high school Robin worked there and you needed some human interaction. Your mom had been staying with your grandparents in Florida to help out and it was just you, alone in your stupid house. It had been some time since you’d hung out with Robin as she was a year below you in school thus about to graduate this year with the wonderful, beautiful Chrissy and maybe even Eddie—if he pulled his shit together and actually showed up to class. You looked like total shit, hair a total mess and eyes puffy from crying. You were wearing a ripped Tears for Fears top and pajama shorts with your chucks, and you had not an ounce of makeup on. It wasn’t Robin at the counter though, it was Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington. You rolled your eyes because of course you look like death warmed over and this handsome fucker is here looking like he stepped out of a gap magazine. You looked at him for a moment longer, noticing that he had clearly put on a bit of muscle and grown out his hair a bit more. He looked even better than he had in high school. You might’ve been in love with Eddie, but even you were not immune to how pretty Steve was.  

“Hello, there. Welcome to Family Video. Do you need help finding a certain movie?” Steve told you, and sadly, it was the first human interaction you’d had in weeks outside of the book store. You just stared, feeling tears sting the corner of your eyes. Fuck, you were not about to cry in front of Steve Harrington. Reel it in, do not do it. “You alright there, pretty girl? If you’re going through a bad breakup, I could recommend—” 

“No, not exactly a breakup.” You felt the first tear escape. You fought the tears valiantly, but they continued. “How about when your best friend of eight years breaks your heart and chooses a pretty cheerleader over you and tells you how awful and unlovable you are?? Oh my god, I am so sorry for the major oversharing. Do you have Grease 2?” 

It was then that Robin (thank God) walked into the store from the backroom. “Cat!! I haven’t seen you in ages. You look like shit? What's wrong?!”  

“I... Me and Eddie. I-” You started to cry in earnest at this point. Robin quickly threw her arms around you. 

“She said he broke her heart, chose a cheerleader over her—that she was awful. Clearly untrue. Eddie Munson is a freak if he thinks she is the awful one. Just saying.” Steve shrugged, helping to fill Robin in on what she had missed as you were sobbing, unable to speak.  

“Thanks, dingus. Eddie has treated you like his own personal cheerleader for years and totally ignored that you were obviously in love with him because he was hung up on Cunningham—who by the way, never knew he even existed until she wanted to start rebelling against her boring little existence. This explains a lot though. They’ve been all over each other at school for weeks. It’s disgusting. If I have to hear her through lunch laughing and sighing ‘oh, Eddie you’re so bad. You're so funny’ I will absolutely vomit all over them. You should see Carver though. Apparently, there was some overlap between them breaking up and Eddie and Chrissy getting together. Oh, the scandal of it all.” 

“Rob, what the hell...I don’t think she needs to hear all of that right now.” Steve interjected, clearly exasperated at his best friend's ramblings.  

“No, I think it helps to know.” you gulped between sobs. You took a deep breath. “Fuck Munson. I don’t need this bullshit. I came to see if you wanted to hang out Robin. I won’t lose the few friends I do have because of Edward Munson.” 

“Right on. You have Robin, and you can have me, too. I mean, if you want.” Steve threw his hands over his face, embarrassed of how that came out. You and Robin both chuckled.  

“I know what you meant, Steve. Of course, I want to be your friend too. It kind of seems like you and Rob are a package deal. How long have you been dating?” You asked, sensing the obvious closeness between them.  

“Oh NO. No, no, no. Eww, no offense. Steve and I are platonic. Capitol P platonic. He’s my bestie, my sweet cheese—totally unromantic.” Robin stuttered, rambling more and more.  

“Gee thanks, Rob.” Steve laughed, “She is right though. We are just best friends. We’ve gone through some heavy shit together, it shows.” 

“Ah, well then. Do you guys want to come over to my house tonight. I have the last of my weed and we can order takeout, watch a movie...or play games? Whatever really.” You offered, praying they would say yes.  

“We get off in an hour, we will bring a few movies. Even Grease 2.” Steve winked at you and you felt your stomach swoop. Shit.  

“I’ll order the pizzas.” you smiled. “But don’t talk shit about Grease 2. Michelle Pfeiffer is a goddess and she is so hot in that movie and the music rocks.” 

Robin stared at you intensely and Steve’s jaw was dropped.  

“You...think Michelle Pfeiffer is hot? Like in a girl crush way? Or...” Robin asked tentatively.  

“Um, in a ‘I’d faint if I ever met her’ kind of way. I hope that’s cool. I kind of thought you were...that you might also think. Um. I like girls and guys. Bisexual. Please tell me that you’re both cool with that.” you heart dropped, why did you always do this? Say too much and ruin things before they even started.  

“I’m a lesbian. Steve knows, he’s cool. Right Steve. But for the record, she’s not really my type. My type is unavailable and straight, apparently.” 

“Yeah, it’s hot. I mean, I’m cool with it.” Steve nodded, enthusiastically while Robin slapped him on the arm, rolling her eyes. 

“So... we’re going to discuss that later, Rob. Yeah?” You responded, hugging her tightly. On a whim, you also threw your arms around Steve. “Thanks for being cool about it, Stevie.”  

Steve flushed red and just patted your back. As you were walking out the door, you heard Robin laughing at Steve, calling him Stevie.  

“I think only Catarina can call me that, sorry Rob. You already call me dingus...”  

You smiled as you drove home. You’d sobbed in front of Steve Harrington, which yes, was mortifying. But you also reconnected with Robin in a whole new way. You were out to two more people. Eddie had known as well, and he hadn’t cared one way or the other since he also liked both. Steve had said it was hot before correcting to that’s cool. The butterflies returned with intensity as you considered the flush on his face as you’d hugged him and called him Stevie. The last thing you needed was to crush on your new friend, but it was impossible not to with Steve. He’d called you pretty girl and said Eddie was a freak for not seeing you. You couldn’t wait to hang out with your friends tonight and help Robin with her crush. This was a new beginning. You could never imagine a life without your old best friend, but what if you’d been so caught up in him that you missed out on getting to know amazing people? As much as losing him hurt, you felt it—that this was a good thing for you. And it meant you got to look at Steve Harrington, that certainly didn’t hurt either.  

[rebrandedbard]

Alright so, I’m gonna send this as an ask instead of clogging your comment box on ao3. And I’m still laughing at the fact you call these essays when it’s just unedited night ramblings. 🫡

Full disclosure, I have absolutely zero knowledge about music. I’m not even going to pretend like I knew what I was doing with those annotations and I certainly don’t know enough about poetry to articulate how that would work either… But I still very much hold firm to the belief that this would make an excellent recitation. The only other way I can articulate it is by insisting that it is a melodic kind of language. I see what you were going for and you’ve done it so well and I am so excited to see this kind of style and specific diction of language.

My education and experience is more in painting, art history, critical analysis so you know I’m not a complete hackjob and just blowing steam out of my ass! But I really have like no knowledge of music. 💀

I also very much hold firm to the belief that Jaskier is always going to be a choice. That is ultimately at the heart of the found family trope/genre. It’s not about shoehorning people into traditional family roles, but rather and I’m going to borrow from your fic here to support this, it’s about people coming together and the care and love that exists between them regardless of background, experience, and pre-ordained fates.

“Ciri put herself between the stranger and Jaskier, waving a large branch in warning. “Keep away,” she growled. “If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”

This is great. This is important. This is also really funny. A small child protecting a larger child. I know Ciri is more powerful, and perhaps even stronger than Jaskier. But the mental image of her defending Jaskier against a witcher with a branch is hilarious. I bet Lambert was telling everyone about it when they got to Kaer Morhen.

What’s important about this observation is that Jaskier lets her. It cannot be easy for a grown man to suddenly have to rely on a child to take care of him, but he lets her and there isn’t a shred, not an ounce of resentment between them.

Also, I did not originally mean to analyze this against the hero’s journey and the monomyth, but the witcher so often explores the concept of destiny and fate that I find myself falling into it constantly. What this fic does though, as I’ve mentioned before, is refuse the call and subvert the myth which I love.

I’m very interested in that perspective, thank you. I was a little suspicious because Jaskier was clearly picking up on something but I knew from his reaction at the end that he really didn’t know. It’s that thing where as an audience we have more information than the characters which again very much puts me in mind of a play and the fics other artistic qualities. I think I feel more like Ciri in this instance, and also a little like Jaskier. One is kept in the dark because she’s a child and the other because he’s literally blind.

Omg okay last disclosure… I couldn’t remember the word for prose poetry (idk why) and it sent me on a deep-dive. I just really love writing, and fanfiction and all this shit. It’s my goddamn jam, and I’m literally incapable of shutting up. I’m about to vibrate out of my skin.

I never ever ever forever want you to shut up. I love this. I love ALL of this. I want to read this analysis like I'm in an english lit class. I am eating it up with two serving spoons like I've been given the entire tray of sweet potato casserole to kill off at thanksgiving. PLEASE I beg of you, CLOG MY INBOX. I would LOVE to have this in my inbox to keep and to treasure. In fact, I keep my favorite ao3 comment emails in a special folder! Please please PLEASE copy and paste this and put it beside the other half so they are together. Your comments are FAMILY you can't separate them! They need a loving home!

[booksandwords]

The Boy in the Dress by Jonathan Butler

Read time: 8 Days Rating: 4/5 Stars

The Quote: You must tell Warwick's story — 'Mum' Butler (she died while Jonathan while writing this Warwick was her Uncle. If any line made me emotional it was this one, it was her death.)

Warnings: Homophobia

The first thing you need to know when reading this book is it is an investigation written from an assumption. The author, Jonathan Butler's assumption or familial belief that Warwick Meale was gay. There was no evidence. I could just as easily project my own sexuality onto him. Quite frankly that was extremely frustrating, especially because the author kept pointing out the ways ie saw himself in his great uncle. But yes this death did impact his life too. Warwick's homosexuality prevented Jonathan's mother from easy acceptance of him and his sexuality. His father's family had that generational homophobia I've honestly just come to accept. They'll all be gone soon anyway. His mother's diagnosis was hard that was just a painful disease. Jonathan does in the last chapter acknowledge some of the concerns I have with the book's premise, as does one of the interviewees. I do appreciate that he nearly acknowledged his naivete in the original now he has finished it.

This is not a bad book a does a good job to educate readers on some of the realities of queer culture in WWII but some of it was also nss (no shit sherlock). It does at times feel a little disjointed but that's kinda charming. It feels like what it is... someone's personal research project that they lost control of. There is an interesting writing style used. It is readable, with very short chapters. I think the longest I found was about 20p most would have been under 10. It combines two narrative writing styles in a single chapter. One is written almost from the prospect of being there at the time, though not 1st person. The other is J relaying the facts he discovered as they were relevant. It's quite a captivating way to read the story. Even if I did occasionally lose track of who the players were, there are a lot of them.

I like the conclusion that Jonathan comes to with the three cases he raises. They feel like almost the three options for Warwick's death. Though there uses some wriggle room on all three. Jack Lloyd's conclusion feels particularly stereotypical and disappointing for the family. His senseless death is excused because of gay panic. Even if sexual encounters at the time were slightly more fluid than people would like to think. We are talking about virile young men in their prime for the most part, what do you think was happening?

Have some comments and quotes.

I think this is book for those with an interest in queer history. But for those with an interest in military, it feels like it could add a whole other dimension, especially those younger readers.

There is a bibliography available online for those with an interest. I was entirely unsurprised to see serving is silence included and referenced in this.

Tom and Clyde and written in a way that makes you kinda what to know what happened to them, we do find out. We find out about most of the major players.

Look no further than Australia's Defence Minister Peter Dutton who, in 2021, scolded defence personnel for celebrating the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, Interphobia and Transphobia. He ordered his department to stop pursuing a 'woke agenda'. — I really hate Peter Dutton. The thought that he may become our opposition leader now Scott Morrison has stepped aside distresses me greatly.

But what made the blood of many Australian men boil, more than anything else, was the Americans' relationships with Australian women. The Yanks were paid considerably more than the diggers and had nicer uniformer and a certain way with women - they knew how to dance and how to charm. — I mean can you blame them? The Americans were the peacocks with the finer plumage and women needed to make their nests somehow. Hard to do in the post war period.

History has a very real impact on people today. It's shaped how I see the world And so much our history would be lost without the nations archives. — My librarian self loves this quote. It is a joy to see someone acknowledge their societal import.

As a child I found it soothing to gaze at that image of a boy in a dress, It offered me hope that maybe I wasn't so different. The older I got, the more I struggled with an alarming feeling growing inside me, a feeling I couldn't name at the time. It was an urge to wear my sisters' clothes, play with dolls and be free of typical 'boy things': — This is the importance of Warwick to Jonothan. I think s many queer people have someone like this. But few have someone so close to them, so biologically connected.