#like i’m very happy my friends all have it going good with lads but when the fuck is it my turn

[ellecdc]

i come barring a request for a poly!marauders🫡📃

idk you ever do this with ur cat but when mine meows at me i respond back and pretend we’re having a full conversation, and now imagine reader this with her cat and she’s roommates with lily so she’s used to but then the boys see they’re all thrown off and slightly worried.

now i bid you good day my lady 🫡

I've had this blurb like half finished for a while, but since we were all talking about our fur babies today, I thought it'd be perfect to finish and post! thanks for this cute request - hope it's what you were looking for

poly!marauders x fem!reader who talks to her cat

Remus felt sort of bad for Lily at the way the boys all deflated when it had been her who opened the door to your shared flat instead of you. Thankfully, the red-head just laughed and invited them all in.

“Sorry to disappoint boys.” She jested as they all made themselves at home on your couch.

“Oh, we’re always happy to see you, Lily.” James said at the same time as Sirius grumbled “you should be”, earning him a pinch in the ribs by Remus.

“Hey!” Lily called down the hall. “The boys are here!”

Remus winced at a painful sounding thump and a muffled. “Okay thanks! I’m almost ready!”

The boys were very excited, if James’ knee bouncing and Sirius’ impish smirk wasn’t obvious enough. Lily had been gushing about how sweet her new roommate was and how she thought you’d get along really well with the group of friends, and she’d been right. You came to two pub nights and the boys were hooked; constantly asking Lily for updates and if you’d be at the next one.

Lily had grown so tired of playing messenger that she asked you if she could give them your phone number, to which you had agreed.

The four of you had been in a group chat for nearly a month and a half before they felt brave enough to ask you out on an official date.

“Where are you guys going tonight?” Lily asked as she sat in an armchair in the living area where the boys were waiting.

“We’re going to the pub on 42nd.” James answered readily. 

“The one with the board games and vintage video games?” Lily clarified. 

“Yup. That way there’s something for us to do if conversation lulls, and something for James to do with his hands.” Sirius explained teasingly, causing James to blush and lean into his side as if he were trying to hide inside of Sirius’ smaller frame.

“Don’t tease the lad.” Lily admonished playfully. “He’s already likely nervous enough. I don’t think you lot have to worry about tonight though; conversation never lulls with her around.”

Remus tilted his head in bemusement at Lily’s comment but never got to ask for clarification before he heard some muttering.

“Would you stop that?” He could hear you mutter quietly; barely any ire detected in your tone.

“Please don’t do this, I’m already late.” You begged before a big crash took place. “For fuck’s sa- why.” 

“You’re not allowed to get ready with me anymore.” You declared to your bedroom. Remus shared a look with Sirius and James before turning towards Lily who only shook her head and brought her finger to her lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that!” You carried on. “If you want to be here to see me off, you need to behave yourself.”

It was quiet for a few moments. “No, knocking over my jewelry stand is not behaving.”

They listened to you shuffling around before you let out a big sigh. “I love you too, but you are stressing me out. Do you want to watch shows with Lily tonight while I’m gone? Hm? Let’s go ask.”

Finally, you exited your room and made your way down the hall, entering the living area before pausing to take in the fact that the four occupants of your flat were all staring at you with varying levels of bemusement and amusement. 

And trotting happily behind you was a small cat seemingly none the wiser to the fact that it just made its mistress look like a fool in front of her dates.

You chuckled awkwardly. “How much did you hear?”

Lily snorted and pat her legs as an invitation for your feline friend, who happily agreed, hopping and curling up on the red-head’s lap. 

“Enough to know that knocking over your jewelry stand is not behaving.” Sirius teased salaciously. 

You groaned and moved to cover your face with your hands, but James was having none of that and quickly made for you.

“Don’t hide that beautiful face from us; it’d be a shame if the only one who got to appreciate your date night look was your cat.” He commented as he gently pulled your hands away from your face.

You still looked awfully embarrassed but acquiesced. “A bad cat, at that.” You spat to the ball of fur currently sitting with your roommate without any real malice. 

“Oi!” Lily defended quickly, brushing broad strokes over the cat like the villain from Austin Powers. “Don’t speak ill of Princess Bernadette the Third.”

“Princess Bernadette?” Sirius asked bewilderedly at the same time as James murmured “the Third?”

“Birdie, Lily. My cat’s name is Birdie.” You corrected, not at all amused. 

Lily raised her nose in the air. “When we stay home to watch Bridgerton without you lot, she’s Princess Bernadette the Third. Now off with you, we have Ball’s to attend, and you have gentlemen to court.” 

Remus watched with a loving smile as you flushed furiously at that, laughing when it only deepened as Sirius suddenly stood and made his way for you, bowing with a flourish and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Shall we, m’lady?”

You gave him an eye roll but Remus could tell it was mostly for show as you bore a sickeningly sweet smile and accepted James’ elbow as you made your way to the door.

“Have fun you guys!” Lily called towards the door as Remus bent down to scritch Birdie on the chin.

“You too, Princess Bernadette, Princess Lillith.” He offered with his most posh accent and a quick bow before joining his two boyfriends and their date at the door.

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part one.

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tagged: landonorris

yourusername a smiley lando is the best lando in my books! to celebrate the end of the 2023 season, here's a handful of my favourite photos from throughout the year!

view all 3,171 comments

mclaren What a happy lad! We can't wait to see that smile again in 2024 😁🧡

↳ yourusername you and me both! 🤝🧡

user she's got the dream job omg

↳ user IKR??? imagine just getting to follow lando around and take pictures of him all day, i'd be dead within the first hour

↳ user he'd smile at me and i'd be asking “what are we” on god 😩😩😩

↳ user is that literally all she does??? she just follows him around and takes pictures??

↳ user there’s probably a technical term for what her position is and i just don’t know it, but bc there’s so much going on around the track at any given moment, sometimes the press and other media workers are focused on something or someone else, so she’s hired on by mclaren to specifically focus on mclaren to make sure that there is content for mclaren or mclaren sponsors to use. she’s not just lando’s photographer, she also takes photos of oscar, the pit teams, and the other staff that work in the garage, but she was hired on when lando started so her portfolio is pretty full of him. hope this helps!

user didn't know i could need so much orange in my life but here we are

user LANDO NORRIS SUPREMACY

oscarpiastri i see who the favourite is 🫤

↳ yourusername you literally SAW me picking photos for your post too

↳ oscarpiastri yeah but you posted his first 🫤

user guys this is the face of the 2024 wdc winner take it in now

user i could write a 50 page thesis on the importance of these photos and what they mean to me and how the serotonin they make me release could replace my depression meds

user lad’s like a mini danny ric with how smiley he is

landonorris best photog right here folks

↳ yourusername you're only saying that bc i always get your good side

↳ landonorris i'll have you know that all sides are my good sides 🤨

↳ yourusername whatev helps you sleep at night luv 😊

In 2019, when you took on the job of being McLaren’s lead photographer, you hadn’t expected it would garner you the amount of attention it has, or that it would slingshot your career to levels of success you never could have anticipated, or that you would get a best friend out of it.

When you first met him back in those early days, you’d thought Lando Norris was an arrogant, pretentious, self-righteous prick who thought he was hot shit because he was a Formula One driver. However, he’d quickly proven you wrong when he’d admitted to you that a lot of the confidence was an act━ carefully constructed to hide his insecurities about his performance both on and off the track.

“I mean, we’re drivers, yeah?” He’d said. “But we’re also actors. We’ve got these personas that we have to uphold even out here on the paddock, and I’m always worried I’m not playing the part well enough.”

It hadn’t made a lot of sense to you then, you thought he was pulling off the persona of Total Douche remarkably well, but in Shanghai, things changed.

After the Chinese Grand Prix, things were dour. Lando had DNFed━ the first in his Formula One career━ which contrasted greatly with his previous accomplishment of P6 in Bahrain. Carlos Sainz hadn’t been doing very well, either, and it didn’t paint a very pretty picture for McLaren so early in the season. You’d thought he’d throw a hissy fit, tear Daniil Kvyat apart for his role in the crash, or at the very least throw some shade his way, but he hadn’t done any of that. He’d accepted his fate with grace, joked to the media about how boring the race had been because of what had happened, and then gone on to congratulate Carlos for at least finishing.

What was even more shocking, was that despite his disappointment and the frustration he must’ve been feeling, instead of going back to sulk in his lonesomeness or drown out his feelings with booze and loud music at some club, he’d comforted you later that evening.

The morning of the race, as you’d been getting ready in your hotel room, you’d gotten a text from an unsaved number admitting to you that they’d been taking part in a months-long affair with your boyfriend but had been previously unaware that he was already taken and therefore wanted to let you know to clear their conscience. You’d managed to hold yourself together then━ mostly because you’d already done your makeup and, quite frankly, didn’t have the time to sob it all off and then attempt to salvage it━ but as the day drew to a close and the adrenaline of the race and its excitement wore off, and with nothing else to keep you distracted, you were struggling to keep yourself composed.

Lando had somehow noticed in that weirdly perceptive way of his that something was off, and he’d sat with you, asked what was wrong, and listened when you━ through tears━ explained the situation to him.

“He sounds like a total fucking muppet,” he’d commented after you’d said your piece, and he’d done it with such a deadpanned expression that it had startled a genuine laugh out of you. Because yeah, you’re (now ex) boyfriend had been a muppet.

After that━ and after all the rom-com and ice cream binging you’d both done in his hotel room afterward much to the chagrin of Lando’s nutritionist and the displeasure of his PR officer━ you’d rescinded your initial judgment of him. He was significantly less dickish than you’d originally thought, and it let you finally understand what he’d meant when he’d talked about putting on a persona.

The cocky, know-it-all prick that Lando pretended to be half the time was all just an act to hide his overly self-critical nature fueled by his insecurities.

By the end of the season, he’d gained a little confidence of his own and had subsequently toned down the assholery when he no longer needed to “fake it til he makes it,” and you were calling him your friend.

It’s 2023 now, and he’s since been upgraded to best friend status━ a role he takes very seriously, and constantly reminds you of.

“I’m your best friend━” case and point, “━you have to come to Bali with me. Literally, like, what am I gonna do without you there? Do you expect me to just go by myself? What if I get lost? Or what if somehow the mafia, who have unknowingly had a hit out on me for years, track me down there and I’m kidnapped and ransomed off for billions of dollars? What will you do then?”

“You just want me to take pictures of you,” you answer, rolling your eyes only because you know he can’t see you through the phone.

He gasps in mock offense. “I cannot believe you think I value you so little! I want you to take pictures of me and be here to help me make fun of awkward tourist spray tans so I don’t feel like a total asshole for being the only one who laughs.”

You laugh at that. “Well, unfortunately laughing at bad fake tans doesn’t pay the bills.”

“But taking pictures of me does.”

“Yeah, when McLaren is paying.” You turn back to your laptop, a photo put on pause mid-edit splayed across the screen. It’s of Lando, as most of your photos tend to be despite your attempts at keeping things even between the McLaren boys. It’s the last of the images you need to send over for their 2023 sendoff, and when it’s finished you’ll officially be without work for a painstaking two months. “I’m on break too, technically, until they need promotional shit for the new season.”

He huffs, and you can almost imagine the childish pout on his face. “What are you even doing, then?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t want Lando to know about your winter plans, but because you don’t really know how he’ll react, which means it could be anything between genuine happiness for you and congratulations, or abject horror and feigned screams of anguish. He’s always been dramatic like that, but even more so now that he’s comfortable enough with you and himself to have crawled a decent way out of his shell.

Even still, he’s your best friend and it would make you a pretty shitty person if you didn’t tell him.

“Believe it or not,” you start, wringing your hands together, “but Manchester City actually hit me up with an inquiry. Asked if I’d be interested in working with them on a project documenting their training throughout the winter months. I said I would love to.”

He pauses for a good long moment, and you prepare for the screaming, but all he says is━ “Man City? You traitor. I thought Man United was our forever!”

“Be so fucking real right now, Lando Norris,” you answer, laughing as you do so. You’re relieved, at least he hasn’t gone the feigned anguish route, but you also can’t tell if he’s happy for you or hiding his true feelings behind humor like he’s prone to doing. “You know damn well you only watched them for Christiano Ronaldo and he hasn’t played with United since 2009.”

“Technically he played for them in the 2021-2022 season,” he grumbles.

“Yeah,” you deadpan, “and he was dogshit. We both agreed to pretend it never happened.”

He groans, “I can’t believe this. My day is ruined and my disappointment is immeasurable.”

“Oh, get over yourself. It’s only for the winter. I’ll be back in McLaren Papaya by February when they need me snapping shots of you and Oscar next to the new livery,” you promise.

The reality is that it’ll probably be sooner. McLaren has always been good about getting you back at HQ pretty quickly, either to get some snapshots of the beginning of Lando and Oscar’s pre-season return or to just capture some material of the engineers at work to promote their readiness. You understand why they can’t keep you around all year━ no Lando and no Oscar means no you━ and with the sheer amount of content you capture and edit for them throughout the season, they’ve got enough to last them the handful of weeks you aren’t working.

Unfortunately, you aren’t working with a driver’s salary to keep you sustained over the break and rent certainly hasn’t been getting cheaper. In past years, your bank account has been chirping with crickets when you’ve returned to work after the winter, and that was before your landlord had decided to make your life a living hell.

You have an important job, but it’s by far the most important, and sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Working in sports media taught you that early on.

“Who knows?” Lando’s voice snaps you back. “Maybe Jack Grealish with his perfect hair and perfect calves will steal you away and you’ll be in sky blue forevermore.”

You laugh, “Jack Grealish is a happily taken man, and although he does have perfect hair and perfect calves, I’m more of a Haaland girl anyway.”

He guffaws. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re so far gone that you already have a preferred player. Jack Grealish is England’s poster boy! Everyone loves him whether they like City or not!” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “Christ, I can already feel you slipping through my fingers. I give it a week over there at Etihad before you call me up telling me I can find a new best friend because you’ve replaced me with Phil Foden and Julian Alvarez.”

“For someone who supposedly hates Manchester City, you’re certainly well-versed in their roster.”

“Well duh, I need to know my competition,” he says, like it’s obvious.

“Ah, yes,” you snark back sarcastically. “Because you, a Formula One driver, have to be worried about the football players of Manchester City.”

“Apparently I do if you’re calling yourself a Haaland girl now!”

You burst into cackles and he’s following shortly after with chuckles of his own that eventually peter out into a comfortable silence. You are really going to miss him for the few months you aren’t working with him.

The Formula One schedule is so jam-packed across the season that it typically means you’re getting to see him every day for an hour or two at least, if not for the entirety of the time he’s at the track. You follow him and Oscar to their sponsor obligations, their interviews, and everything in between. It’s honestly rare if you’re not getting a moment to goof off and dick around with one another━ and it’s even rarer for you to not actually see one another face to face in passing at the very least.

The off-season is your least favorite time of the year for this very reason, and though it makes you feel a bit full of yourself to think so, you imagine Lando doesn’t enjoy this time of year much either for the same reason.

“I promise I won’t replace you with any of the City boys,” you say after the silence has stretched on a moment longer.

He huffs again, but you can envision the smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose even if you do, I’ll just show up to a match and steal you away again.”

“As if. Have you seen Grealish’s calves?”

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footballfansofficial BREAKING: Manchester City Forward Garrett Ward caught with mysterious woman revealed to be well-known Formula One photographer Y/N L/N! The two were seen sharing a romantic evening on Friday, the 5th of January, ringing in a passionate start to 2024. Garrett Ward has been with Manchester City since 2021 but was out on loan to a lesser-known Championship League team until 2023. He has just recently begun to play for his team again, but an injury early into the season has seen him benched for a majority of his time back. Y/N L/N is a photographer for Formula One racing team McLaren and has been working with them since 2019. Recently, she has been working with Manchester City to help promote a new docuseries following the men’s team’s winter training. Check the link in our bio for the full article!

view all 12,971 comments

user OMG GARRETT WARD??? NOTORIOUS BACHELOR GARRETT WARD???

user who is she? like genuinely how is she relevant 🤔

↳ user no literally cuz like who even gives two shits about formula 1?

user girl works in f1 why can’t she stay there

↳ user i’m sure there are plenty of drivers who’d smash her idk why she needs to try and get footballers too like bffr 😒😒😒

user aint no way this bitch is kissing my man rn

user literally what does he even see in her??? she’s not even cute AND she’s wearing man united colors 💀💀

user Y/N L/N??? I THOUGHT SHE WAS WITH LANDO NORRIS???

↳ user LITERALLY ME TOO?? like she posts him all the time on insta so i just kinda thought they were an item or smth?? trouble in paradise maybe

user she’s fucking ugly wtf

user i wish these footballers who get with regular women would realize there are so many better girls out there that would ACTUALLY treat them well and would support them in their careers. like i bet this girl doesn’t even know anything about football. she works in f1 and that’s where she should stay bc nobody cares about that shit round here. she probably doesn’t even know the first thing about how football works, but i bet she’ll be at matches pretending like she knows what’s happening. garrett ward is gonna flush his career down the troilet for this chick bc she’s gonna convince him his busy schedule ain’t worth it and then city will be down a great forward for good, and it’ll all be her fault

user i mean she’s kinda pretty tbf

↳ user stfu she really isn’t

↳ user she gen looks like any random bitch off the street

user these comments are not it…. 😬

↳ user maybe you f1 fans just don’t know how to handle constructive criticism

↳ user is the constructive criticism in the room with us rn?? cuz all i’m seeing is bullying and hatred directed towards an innocent woman who’s only “crime” was going on a date

user ok so she can take photos?? 🙄🙄 maybe she should get a real job

↳ user she’s probably only with him so she can mooch off of him like a fucking gold digger

user AINT NO WAYYYYYY

user it’ll last a month max 😌 i’m calling it

user ayo lando come get your girl

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette

━━ a/n: here we have it! took me a bit longer than the start of american smile did, but lando's story is officially here! (and it's a whopping 2.9k words to start us off). first and foremost, before we get started, garrett ward is 100% an oc and obviously does not play for manchester city, and this is bc i would feel absolutely horrible portraying a real person in the way that garrett will be later on. gather from that what you will haha! regardless, i hope you enjoy this first part and stick around for the rest!

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Writing Advice #?: Don’t write out accents.

The Surface-Level Problem: It’s distracting at best, illegible at worst. 

The following passage from Sons and Lovers has never made a whit of sense to me:

“I ham, Walter, my lad,’ ’e says; ‘ta’e which on ’em ter’s a mind.’ An’ so I took one, an’ thanked ’im. I didn’t like ter shake it afore ’is eyes, but ’e says, ‘Tha’d better ma’e sure it’s a good un. An’ so, yer see, I knowed it was.’”

There’s almost certainly a point to that dialogue — plot, character, theme — but I could not figure out what the words were meant to be, and gave up on the book.  At a lesser extreme, most of Quincey’s lines from Dracula (“I know I ain’t good enough to regulate the fixin’s of your little shoes”) cause American readers to sputter into laughter, which isn’t ideal for a character who is supposed to be sweet and tragic.  Accents-written-out draw attention to mechanical qualities of the text.

Solution #1: Use indicators outside of the quote marks to describe how a character talks.  An Atlanta accent can be “drawling” and a London one “clipped”; a Princeton one can sound “stiff” and a Newark one “relaxed.”  Do they exaggerate their vowels more (North America) or their consonants more (U.K., north Africa)?  Do they sound happy, melodious, frustrated?

The Deeper Problem: It’s ignorant at best, and classist/racist/xenophobic at worst.

You pretty much never see authors writing out their own accents — to the person who has the accent, the words just sound like words.  It’s only when the accent is somehow “other” to the author that it gets written out.

And the accents that we consider “other” and “wrong” (even if no one ever uses those words, the decision to deliberately misspell words still conveys it) are pretty much never the ones from wealthy and educated parts of the country.  Instead, the accents with misspelled words and awkward inflection are those from other countries, from other social classes, from other ethnicities.  If your Maine characters speak normally and your Florida characters have grammatical errors, then you have conveyed what you consider to be correct and normal speech.  We know what J.K. Rowling thinks of French-accented English, because it’s dripping off of Fleur Delacour’s every line.

At the bizarre extreme, we see inappropriate application of North U.K. and South U.S.-isms to every uneducated and/or poor character ever to appear in fan fic.  When wanting to get across that Steve Rogers is a simple Brooklyn boy, MCU fans have him slip into “mustn’t” and “we is.”  When conveying that Robin 2.0 is raised poor in Newark, he uses “ain’t” and “y’all” and “din.”  Never mind that Iron Man is from Manhattan, or that Robin 3.0 is raised wealthy in Newark; neither of them ever gets a written-out accent.

Solution #2: A little word choice can go a long way, and a little research can go even further.  Listen carefully to the way people talk — on the bus, in a café, on unscripted YouTube — and write down their exact word choice.  “We good” literally means the same thing as “no thank you,” but one’s a lot more formal than the other.  “Ain’t” is a perfectly good synonym for “am not,” but not everyone will use it.

The Obscure Problem: It’s not even how people talk.

Look at how auto-transcription software messes up speaking styles, and it’s obvious that no one pronounces every spoken sound in every word that comes out of their mouth.  Consider how Americans say “you all right?”; 99% of us actually say something like “yait?”, using tone and head tilt to convey meaning.  Politicians speak very formally; friends at bars speak very informally.

An example: I’m from Baltimore, Maryland.  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Texas, in which case I’m from “Baltmore, Marlind.”  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Pennsylvania, in which case I’m from “Balmore, Marlin.”  If I’m speaking to a fellow Marylander, I’m of course from “Bamor.”  (If I’m speaking to a non-American, I’m of course from “Washington D.C.”)  Trying to capture every phoneme of change from moment to moment and setting to setting would be ridiculous; better just to say I inflect more when talking to people from outside my region.

When you write out an accent, you insert yourself, the writer, as an implied listener.  You inflict your value judgments and your linguistic ear on the reader, and you take away from the story.

Solution #3: When in doubt, just write the dialogue how you would talk.

[strwberri-milk]

hello!!! I’ve been loving your work for a liiiitle while now. I’m hoping you can do all the LADS guys of if mc/you being of latin descent (Mexican/ Honduran, Salvadoran, etc) who loves going to gathering with friends and families (like barbecues, quinceñeras, those type) and how they would react to being in such a place, meeting your large family, and reacting to you dancing/ trying to get them to dance with you (cumbia is my fav at any party lol) would). Would love to see what you come up with, much looove 🩷🩷🩷

Xavier seems uncomfortable at first with the amount of people but it's just because he's trying to figure out how everyone knows each other and how he can fit into conversations. He doesn't want to impose himself on anybody despite how welcoming they all seem.

You wouldn't have to work hard to get him onto the dance floor but he isn't exactly the most rhythmic so he's going to try his best but that doesn't exactly look amazing but everyone can appreciate that he's very clearly trying very hard.

He'll get used to it over time but he does get fatigued very easily from the amount of social interaction big family events of yours take. You just have to cuddle him up and give him a second to breathe when the two of you get home. He likes seeing everyone though and how happy you are around them so he'll never say no if you invite him to an outing.

Zayne is very good at small talk and keeping people chatting so being in a crowd like this isn't too awful, even if he's exhausted from going to work then straight to a party. He doesn't mind keeping you company and he's already met your parents. Getting along with the rest of your family doesn't seem like it'd be too difficult a task for him.

He doesn't show his fatigue until he gets home. He didn't grow up with a large family so it'll take him a while to get used to being around so many people who seem invested in him as a person, in addition to his work as a doctor. Any advice he gives as a doctor is one that he strongly urges people to double check because there are certainly some people who are hoping to ask him to look at this or that. He does give his honest opinions and if there's anything he can see himself working with he'll try to schedule them in, telling you it's no problem and he doesn't mind helping the people you love.

He can't make it to every event but the events he misses he insists you go buy something to gift your family as an apology. He would hate for any of them to think that he's missing the event on purpose and will offer his apologies in person the next time he sees them all.

Rafayel fits right in. I've mentioned before that I think he grew up in a communal parenting/child rearing environment so being surrounded by tons of family is perfectly normal for him. He's going to go into this event with a more positive outlook than normal because he wants to get along with your family.

You were a little worried that he'd come off as rude or uptight because of how he tends to be at his own shows if he doesn't want to be there but thankfully he treats them as though he's known them for a while. You can tell his social battery is draining though but he has fun getting to know people and playing with the younger members of your family.

He definitely was exhausted when he got home but he also looked a little nostalgic. There's something in the look in his eyes that makes you a little sad. He'll appear at other events in the future but he doesn't always stay the entire time just depending on his schedule. If he misses it for whatever reason he'll tell you to apologise on his behalf and usually tries to at least pick you up so he can make an appearance and say hello.

[thebladeblaster]

Reading panels like the one on the right makes me feel like Sullivan

Warning: Manga spoilers

I’m so proud of my son! Look at him! I am basic and the zero to hero story ALWAYS gets me. Iruma going from feeling like a powerless victim to ambitious young lad is so good. It’s definitely interesting how much more demon-like he becomes as the story progresses with him gaining values more like theirs while retaining vital human values. I’m very surprised how much I liked this manga. I ended up starting the anime on a whim and now I’m hooked. Out of nowhere this dude just got into my top 10 favorite protagonists.

Boy really said to Beezlebub give me my friends rn. He knows what he wants. You have a boy who’s selfless to a fault learning to think for himself ooh. This is something that’s always difficult to write well and honestly I think the writer really nailed giving Iruma genuine greed (like not just the haha he eats a lot) without making him unlikable. Him getting Soi out of his shell was great. His newfound confidence and ambition allows him to get through to him which ultimately helps Soi be happy with his classmates.

I almost hollered at him showing pride. It’s very specifically not the toxic kind but rather the kind that keeps you honest. AKA not compromising and taking the easy road. Also Iruma is taking an action that will not only make the club stand out but him too and this doesn’t bother him at all unlike during the original event. There’s some earlier instances but I just got done binging the manga so the most recent instance is the one that’s on my mind.

I feel like if handled by a lesser writer than adding these traits to Iruma could have made him unlikable but it’s the opposite here. Like I love Iruma now more than ever. I want nothing but the best for him. He’s growing up so much. It shows how traits that are generally portrayed as almost always a negative thing can be good for someone in moderation.

This was some king shit. What a legend. He really just BTFOed the despair based ideologies in a few sentences. This kid has suffered through a lot and is going to do something about it.

He becomes one to jump to fight without hesitation when there’s danger rather than avoiding danger at all costs. Like before he would try just talking but he’s much more willing to throw hands now and I’m all for it.

Sullivan’s monologue here got me. Like this is me. This is how I feel.

Also they are his real family and there’s no buts about it. Sometimes a family is a grandpa, his butler, and a child.

[sciderman]

You said you get more asks here instead of Ask-Spiderpool

Does that mean there's presently no asks? Or you have an Itty bitty backlog,,

honestly the amount of asks I get on ask-spiderpool is so, so paltry and sad at the moment that i can barely scrape together any motivation for it because there’s No inspiration coming in. which is kind of the point of an ask blog lads. conversation. it is Not a one-sided thing !!

sure, there’s a backlog but those are like, pantry items. I need fresh fruit and vegetables or I’ll die of scurvy

anyone who tells me “I want to start an ask blog” I immediately say “in this economy? don’t bother. you won’t even last a day.” I’m hanging on for grim death here .

it’s not about numbers. you’re more than numbers. you should be more than numbers, so please. act like more than numbers. please. don’t you want to be more than numbers? every time someone talks to me and I respond back they seem Shocked to find out I’m actually a human or whatever. why are you guys like that. of course I want to be talked to. any human wants to be talked to. so talk to me!! I’m as lonely and nerdy and pitiful as the rest of you. I’m here because I want friends. so please, be friends. I don’t need numbers. I need friends.

it’s so not about numbers. I still get thousands of notes or whatever,, more notes than before, even, but you’re all so passive now that it’s depressing. I miss when ask-blogging felt like a community,, and that’s Why I did started, and why I kept on for so long… sighs. I feel like everything’s been reduced to numbers. I don’t know how anyone can be happy with just numbers. numbers are so cold and unsexy. numbers do not tickle my pickle at all. (no sir)

I feel like the human element of everything I do is kind of slowly diminishing and I’m looking around at the wasteland like,, where did all the people go. not just here. everywhere. so I’ve been diving into career things again and having success with it, but I don’t want that to be my lifeline. it was my lifeline pre-covid and I don’t want it to be my lifeline again. I’m good at it, but I miss real people with real gratitude and excitement. not just people paying a pay check for my services. I never, never want what I do to just feel like an exchange of goods for like, money. or numbers. those things have No Soul. They’re not a substitute for what I actually look for when I create anything. and what I actually look for is Conversation. (which doesn’t cost you much, can you believe!)

it’s so funny how when I said I’m planning on quitting (which I don’t want to do, but I’m kind of being forced to do because I mean. how can one keep on running an ask-blog with no asks) I got a very big response here saying “noooo don’t do it” and it's sweet - it's really sweet, and appreciated, and warmed the heart but - again. no asks on the actual blog. so.

if you want ask-spiderpool to actually live on, there’s something so very simple and free (does not cost you money) that you can do! three guesses as to what that might be

I have so, so many plans and posts and scripts but I’m not writing into thin air,, man. why should I keep doing a stupid thing like that. what happened to us, that we’ve stopped communicating with creators because we’ve forgotten that wait a second ,, they share things on the internet because they want other people to interact with them. artists are the neediest guys on the internet. they need people to survive. I’m not going to keep on pretending I’m above it all and I’m cooler than that. I’m not cool, and an ask blog needs asks. you can’t expect it to keep going on without them.

so freaking . leave a kiss. leave a comment. stop just leaving a like and disappearing into that goodnight . I hate you all.

anyway. love you. kisses.

[ragingbookdragon]

You're Feeling Ten For Ten

Task Force 141 x Reader (Actually Reader x Ghost if you look close enough) One-Shot

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Hey I made a part two. Happy now? Enjoy! -Thorne

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

The little breakroom is cozy, she decides as she plants her ass on the couch and props her legs on the other side. Cozy enough that she can already imagine some of her things here and there. A bag of Black Ivory coffee beans beside a La Marzocco Strada Electronic Paddle, a seventeenth century Persian rug, a Parsifal Round Fendi couch complete with a Metropolis coffee table, the ideas are endless, and she can’t help but begin to call in orders from her high end clients. It’s the center of her focus until a ringtone echoes from the coffee table and, her being who she is, reaches over and takes the iPhone, carefully looking over the contact.

Nannie Moira? Must be the Scots granny, she thinks and answers the phone.

“Hello!” she chirps politely and the response she gets is not one she expects.

John?

“I’ve been called quite a few things in my life, but ‘John’ has never been one of them.” She’s already pulling up the 141’s files, sliding to “John MacTavish” before she enters “Moira MacTavish” into a search bar. Of course, she comes up within the first ten searches and she smiles.

Oh, Christ, I thought I’d rung my ogha.

“Oh, you did, Missus Moira,” she answers. “I’m afraid John is out right now, but he left his phone and you seemed quite important, so why not answer?” she smiles. “John talks quite a bit about you Missus Moira.” Her eyes scan the newspaper articles from Stirling, Family of Five Killed In Massive Car Pile-Up, Leaves Boy, Two, Orphaned. “Best woman he knows, yes?”

Aye, my ogha, John. Raised the lad myself.

“Missus Moira—”

Call me Nannie Moira, darling. Any friend of John’s is a child o’ mine.

“Of course, Nannie Moira,” she smiles. “So, tell me more of John. He’s so tight-lipped about himself.”

Oh, I can talk for hours of my ogha. Did you know—

***

It’s a good half hour before the door to the break room opens and in piles four men who stop like deer in headlights as they take in the woman—they do not know—sitting on their couch, laughing as she answers, “Nannie Moira! You did not say that to Johnny’s girlfriend!” Whatever response she gets, they can tell it makes her laugh because she presses the back of her hand to her mouth.

Soap’s already headed her way at the mention of his grandmother; she bats at his hand when he tries to take the phone from her. “Oh, Nannie, I think John just got back, would you like to talk to him?” she holds out the phone expectingly and chastises, “Nannie’s very upset you didn’t call her last night.”

He takes the phone, “Nannie, are you alright?...well, yes, I know I didn’t call, I was—yes, Nannie…yes ma’am…I promise I will call you tomorrow night…I love you, Nannie.” He hangs up and glares down at her. “Congratulations, you’re invited to midnight mass on Christmas Eve.”

“Can’t wait,” she replies with a smirk and turns her gaze to Ghost. “Hi, Simon.”

“How,” he starts darkly and stalks towards her in slow, warning steps. “Did you get in here?”

She blinks owlishly at him. “Let’s see, I forged a key card, showed it to the enlisted at the gate, and you might want to actually enlighten them on who they should and should not let it, and walked right in.” she sniffs and tips her head to the air vent that they now notice is missing a covering. “Air vent was a little snug too.”

“I’ve half a mind to arrest you.”

“Oh, I can agree you do have half a mind. It’s why you’ve never managed to beat me in any fight we have.” She raises her hands like she’s waiting cuffs. “Go ahead. But if you arrest me, you won’t have a way to blow up that Syrian power plant you all are planning without leaving someone behind to make sure it does.”

That stops all of them and they stare at her, Price especially when he walks over. “You’re the woman Soap mentioned.” They all ignore how Ghost absolutely glowers at Soap who has now found the ceiling much more interesting. “How much do you know?”

“About the power plant or the mission?”

“All of it.”

She taps a pointer to her chin. “Well, that’s no fun to tell and not get rewarded. I’m not a good girl unless I get a reward, Captain Price,” she purrs and gazes at him. “In return for this information, I’m going to give you my file and you will strongly consider my…introduction, into the 141.”

“No, absolutely not,” Ghost gripes. “I am not working with you.”

“Oh, don’t hurt my feelings, Simon. We both know you and I work so well.”

“You are a killer.”

“I’m a murderer of very bad people, the same as you. So, I’d be careful waving that hypocrisy stick around—might end up with it too far up your ass.”

Ghost turns to Price. “Her name is Spades, she’s an international assassin responsible for taking out targets with the biggest bounties.”

“So, by technicality, I’m a bounty hunter,” she adds. “He’s right though, I do take out quite a few bounties. But believe it or not, the most scandalous thing about me is that I am a morally good assassin. I don’t kill good people. Only very, very, very bad people. Like the Guestroom Butcher.” She ignores the shocked stares. “God, I had to spend months in London before I got that guy. I hate London.”

“You—you killed the Guestroom Butcher?” the fourth man asks, and she peers at him.

“You must be Gaz. And yes, I did. His name was Albert Franklin. A physics teacher at a local secondary school who was a janitor part time. Spent years traveling to different guestrooms all over London to murder tourists. Such an odd man. He talked a lot before I killed him. Kept muttering something about his late wife being killed by tourists decades prior. Sad, but understandable as to why he targeted tourists.”

“And how do we know you killed him?” Gaz inquires.

“Well, my name isn’t Spades for a reason, dear,” she explains and looks at Simon. “Have my card still?” He wordlessly pulls it out and hands it to Gaz, who looks over it. “That’s my calling card. I leave it on bodies so that police know I was there. Look up the case on the internet. There’s a photo of my card.”

“How do you know someone didn’t forge this?”

“All my cards are made by hand, with gold inlay. Signed too. No one can forge my card. And no one in the business is foolish enough to get on my radar for pretending to be me. I’m one of the best there is for a reason.”

Price looks at her. “How do you know about the mission?”

“Simon forgets that he shouldn’t carry around information on a phone.”

“It was locked,” is all he replies when Price glares at him.

“Oh, it was, I unlocked it with a hacker’s bypass.” She clears her throat. “As for the mission…I know the logistics of what you’re planning. I know someone is going to have to stay behind to make sure the pressure in the facility gets high enough that it blows. I also have a bypass for that in which we don’t have to hold a funeral for someone here.”

They stare at her, watching, waiting.

She lifts a small plug, no bigger than a thumb. “This, is a kill-switch made by one of the scientists who helped build the power plant. When the Syrian government found out he was gay, they had him executed. Before that, he made this as insurance and sold it to the black market the United States frequents. I paid quite a pretty penny for it.”

“What’s it do?” Soap asks.

“This little plug will directly overload the system in fifteen minutes. There is no way to stop the overload once it’s been activated by this. That’s why it’s the kill-switch.” She rolls it in her fingers. “You insert this into the mainframe and in exactly fifteen minutes, you blow everything in a ten mile radius to kingdom come.” She smiles. “Only takes five to get out of the facility and to the rescue chopper. Ten minutes to get outside the blast radius.”

They’re silent and she knows she’s found her entrance point as she rises from the couch; their eyes follow her.

“I’ll be in my quarters. Simon, I chose the room between you and Gaz since it was vacant. Oh, and Captain Price, there’s going to be quite a few boxes being delivered to the base in the next two hours. If you would, have someone bring them to my room so I can set them up.” she gathers her things. “Also, if one of you, I’m hoping it’ll be Soap, can help me move out all that ugly military furniture from my quarters, I would appreciate it.”

She walks past them without a care in the world.

“Can’t believe you plebians live like this. What ever happened to having good furniture and a supported spinal column when you sleep?”

The door closes behind her and Simon’s the first to break the silence. “You’re just going to let her stay?”

Price glares at him. “The fuck am I supposed to do? She looks more prepared for our mission than we are right now.”

Ghost growls, legitimately growls, and says, “I cannot believe I have to fucking work with her.”

This, doesn’t stop Soap from raising his hand and asking, “Wait, so fraternization only works on folks in the military right?”

“SOAP, SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

[aphroditeslover11]

Thinking In Numbers

Oppie x Reader

A/N: as always, based on Cillian Murphy’s very fictional depiction of Oppie, if you don’t want to read it I’m not forcing to and if you do then please feel free to stick around.

This is the response to the poll from the other day, handling some problems arising from the couple’s age gap.

Warnings: mentions fo alcohol, age gap, world’s mildest angst with a happy ending!

You had been on his arm at a lot of fundraising events recently, trying to raise money for the causes that he supported, which meant that you had been spending a lot of time with Robert’s circle of friends. They were all amazing and very interesting people, the conversation was always incredible and you loved them, but you couldn’t help feeling a little like a fish out of water. You were only a philosophy student, in a sea of seasoned academics.

The first time that you really started to notice the difference in your ages was at the end of the summer semester. Both the staff and the students were organising parties and you didn’t know whether you should go and celebrate the end of term with your friends or go and have a far more civilised send-off for the holidays with Robert and the professors. For him there had never been any question that you would accompany him, despite your age he always perceived you as being too mature and sensible to enjoy the parties of your fellow students. He assumed that you were exactly like him at your age, unbelievably introverted and not seeing the point in all of the chaos. You did as he expected of you, and it was a lovely evening with the help of a few of Oppie’s martinis, but you had ended up following him towards the physics faculty who were now having a conversation that you had no chance of understanding. When you got home that night you called your friend’s house, making sure that she had got home from the student celebrations.

“You don’t have to worry about me y/n,” she chuckled, clearly under the influence.

“Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah, the boys decided that it would be a good idea to to try and raid the chemistry stock room so we ended up with impromptu fireworks, it was quite a show actually. One of them nearly blew himself up, but I think he’s alright now.”

“God, I wish I could have been there.”

“How was your evening?”

“Not too bad, it was nice to spend the evening with Robert but he ended up in a corner with the physics department so I was left to my own devices. He expects it of me though so I just do it for him. I’m sure you had a better evening than me.” Little did you know that Oppie was walking past the semi-open door, and heard every word that you were saying.

~

The next day you went back to the campus to pick up some books from the library that you wanted to look at over the summer. You bumped into a few of the boys that you had met over the year, all part way through their degrees just like you.

“How was the party with the old boys club y/n?” One of them asked.

“It was quite fun actually, a lot of interesting conversations. They aren’t all old men, you know.”

“Oppie’s alright, the rest of them can be a bit of a drag,” this came from Luke, who you knew took one of your boyfriend’s classes.

“I heard about your antics with the fireworks, I’m amazed that you’re all still in one piece. I’d take a drag over a near death experience!” You tried to joke back, though it was true that you would rather have spent the evening with them.

“Come on, why don’t you come out with us tonight, live a little. Do you want to be old before your time?” It was then that you felt a familiar arm wrapping around your waist. Looking to your side you were met with Robert, his face with the usual soft smile it wore whenever he saw you.

“Why’s she going to be old Luke?” He questioned, humouring the lads. He was closer with his students than many of the other lecturers at Berkeley and they felt that they could have a little banter with him as a result.

“All of the time that she…” Luke started.

“…Spends sitting at home reading books when I could be out with them.” You quickly cut him off, Robert didn’t need to be involved in this. Luke gave you a bizarre look and carried on talking to his professor, but you could tell that said professor was unsatisfied. Not long later, as you were walking away, he started questioning you.

“My love, what didn’t you want me to hear Luke saying back there?” You were walking back to his office to collect the papers he had left before heading to New Mexico for the summer.

“If you want the truth, they were teasing me for spending so much time with the faculty. It was all in good fun.” Oppie paused for a moment.

“It is true that you don’t spend much time with your own friends though. I have to admit that I heard you on the phone the other night, I never thought that I might have been pressuring you into anything, but I can understand now that I have.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with your friends, I really do. Sometimes I just feel like I want to do the sorts of things that normal students do.”

“Darling, why didn’t you say any of this earlier?”

“I didn’t want to make things awkward or make you to feel obligated to do anything that you didn’t want to do.” Robert sighed softly at that, turning and taking your face in his hands, looking down at you.

“My love, you can always tell me anything. You are too caring for your own good sometimes, you know that? This is my fault, I shouldn’t have been so shortsighted, so its up to me to make it up to you.”

“Robert, you don’t have to…”

“This weekend we’ll stay here, we’ll have some people over to the apartment, your people, and we’ll do whatever you want for an evening. You know what, I can clear out for the evening and leave you in peace if you like.” He could tell from your smile that you had other ideas.

“Or you could stay and join in with the madness, you do owe me afterall and I think you could make it up to me by proving to Luke that you aren’t an old man. Maybe then he’ll stop taking the mick out of me.”

“I could probably do with a good shafting anyway,” he acquiesced. “So, will you forgive me for being so hopeless.”

“Only if you cover up the raid the boys did the other day on the chemistry department.”

“What raid?”

“They have a habit of setting off homemade fireworks at parties.”

“They are not setting off fireworks in my house…” You stood on your toes then, closing the gap to silence him with a kiss.

“Dr Oppenheimer, my party, my rules!”

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Skepsis_Ree! @skepsiss has 16 fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and 15 of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @skepsiss:

The Last Strange Thing

It's Snowing In Hawkins

Long Road Ahead

House to ourselves

Modern Problems, Modern Solutions

"Bailey's fics are phenomenal and they don't get enough love!" -- Anonymous

Below the cut, @skepsiss answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

a) Why does anyone latch onto any pairing? Something about Steve and Eddie grabbed my attention like no other ship has in years. I’ve always liked Stranger Things, but I never shipped anything from it until season 4 and until I saw the on-screen dynamic of Steve and Eddie. It felt so fun, and I just constantly saw Steddie art popping up on my dash, so I was looking more and more at it until I just said OKAY, I’M GOING ALL IN and started writing private fan fictions for just one of my friends who encouraged me to post them. b)Why do I still write Steddie? Probably because of my pals Eddy and Jess who talk to me about the lads day in and day out <3

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I’m really bad at reading fan fics, to be honest, and I don’t actually enjoy reading tropes. The closest thing to a trope I like to read is probably just “they’re in love” or “they will fall in love.” I like good stories, regardless of the setting or the trope.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Does angst count? I pretty much just write angst! I love drama, angst, and exploring miscommunication! Supernatural elements are also super fun, and of course, I love horror, but those things feel more like genre rather than tropes. But I am also a sucker for a happy ending, so you can sort of expect that from me.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

My fav fic is “No Regrets” by @/strangersteddierthings I loved it so much that I made a graphic for it, and Jess uses it as a banner for the fic now!

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I try to avoid tropes in my writing, (unless you count drama and angst, lol), so I’m not really sure how to answer this. I’ve never written a classic “there is only one bed” or “coffee shop au” or ANYTHING like that, so maybe I should try and do an actual, classic trope. I don’t think I’ve ever, EVER written a REAL trope before, tbh. I’m actually really curious what people would suggest for me to write, if anyone has a suggestion, I’m all ears!

What is your writing process like?

If I’m looking for a story idea, I usually play the “3-word game” to generate an idea. It works like this: I ask someone to give me 1 word that is a Person (priest, character from a show, sister, etc), a Place (NYC, a house, tombstone, etc), and an Object (pen, houseplant, knife, etc) and then I try and connect those 3 things. That usually helps me generate an idea and develop an interesting story. My other method is… I have wild dreams and wake up with a fully-formed scene in my brain, and I deconstruct that scene in order to find out how I can create a story to get to that point. I also write super fast, so I try and get the idea down on paper asap, or I’ll lose interest and never write it. If I’m writing for a Big Bang or something, I have usually finished writing that fic like… months before I need to post it.

Do you have any writing quirks?

A say “though” a lot, start sentences with “so,” and say “a bit” or “a little bit” in my writing a lot. An example would be “He wasn’t alive though, he didn’t ‘have a life’ to speak of, so this was what exactly?”

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

As soon as I finish!!!! I have a hard time holding back….

Which fic are you most proud of?

That I have posted? Probably “The Last Strange Thing.” It is my longest one. But I have one that I will be posting soon that I am very proud of that I have been working on for a while called “Senior Year” which I’ve been writing on and off since November 2022. I finally buckled down and finished writing it for the Steddie Big Bang and I’ll be posting it this year!

How did you get the idea for The Last Strange Thing?

“The Last Strange Thing” was written for a Reverse Big Bang in collaboration with @/llamalpaca. They created an amazing art piece of Steve and Robin in apocalypse gear, and it got the wheels turning in my brain about an apocalypse AU which reminded me of a conversation I had with a pal about “The Last of Us.” It inspired a whole tale in my brain about Steve and all of the “Stranger Things” party existing in a “The Last of Us” world, so I mashed them together and started writing a story.

When writing The Last Strange Thing, what was something you didn’t expect?

I plan out my stories pretty thoroughly, but something I feel is a very “weak point” in my writing is “action scenes,” so I really surprised myself by even ATTEMPTING to tackle something like “The Last Strange Thing,” which has so much action in it. At first, I sort of assumed I would avoid action as much as possible and make the story about the journey, but as I plotted things out, I just kept making plot points that involved more and more action so when I sat down to write it… I was really surprised that everything flowed together so well and the action felt really natural. Lots of people even complimented my action writing, which felt amazing, cause I’ve always felt it was a weakness!

What inspired It's Snowing In Hawkins?

“It’s Snowing In Hawkins” was a request for a mini-Steddie Winter Exchange where a secret exchanger submitted three requests/tropes/inspirations, and you got to choose from them. One of them involved a snowman-building contest, and Eddie “schooling the younger members of the party.” Another part of the request was that they DID NOT WANT ANY ANGST, so that was a big challenge for me! So it was all fluff, and I thought giving Eddie a slightly ADHD-sideways assignment from “snowman” felt fitting for him. Thus, snow-dome and Steve and Eddie getting some private time in the snow together. That, and at that point, I had never written “virgin Eddie” before, so I thought it would be super cute to explore.

What was your favorite part to write from House to ourselves?

Oh geez, this one is almost PWP, but I think probably just the adult-domestic side of it. Just two dads… getting to be dads. Their young kids are away for the weekend, and they get to take a nap together? There is something so… luxurious about that as an adult (I don’t have kids, but working full-time doesn’t give you enough time for naps either) that feels so nice and REAL about that, haha.

How do/did you feel writing Modern Problems, Modern Solutions?

I really wanted to channel shitty-teen energy. This was the most TEENAGE ANGST AND TEEN DRAMA story I’ve written. Everyone in the story is properly a teen in this, and I dug deep to remember what it felt like to be a teenager again. So I guess what I was feeling was… teen spirit.

What was the most difficult part of writing Long Road Ahead?

This is a really emotional fic, actually. Probably the hardest chapters to write were chapters 2 and 3 where we see the intense yearning between Eddie and Steve and how both of them truly believe that nothing would work between them—Eddie because he thinks Steve doesn’t like him, and with Steve, it is because he is terrified about being queer. I think the toughest thing about writing this was challenging Steve’s intense internal homophobia. That’s something that isn’t explored a lot in fic, and it does not feel good, so I get it, but I think it’s realistic for the 80s. Steve being really scared about his own feelings would be something a lot of boys would struggle with in that era, especially as a handsome, sporty guy who really thinks he is straight up until that point where he falls HARD for his guy friends uncontrollably. It’s difficult to write characters who have polar opposite opinions compared to yourself, but I find it really interesting, and it makes it really fun to write them GROWING OUT of that mindset.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I don’t think I can pick a line because it has been too long since I have written any of those fics, but scene-wise, I think one of my favourite scenes is from one of my stories called “Tooth and Nail” where EDDIE is the one struggle with the idea of being queer and Steve is the one who has “come out” first. Anyway, Eddie is sitting on one side of a door, and he has no idea if Steve is listening to him or not, but he is confessing all of his feeling of “I messed up, and I don’t know how I feel, but I know I messed up and I’m sorry.” Also later, he cries about it to Steve and gets so embarrassed he pulls his shirt over his head to hide the fact that he is crying, and I still think that is adorable. I really like both of those scenes.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

a) If you haven’t read “Tooth and Nail” you should, it’s older but up on my Tumblr. b) New project wise though!!!! I HAVE THREE NEW ONES! c) “Batter Up” just dropped on June 16th and is a 14,000 word fluff fic for the Steddie Summer Exchange. It’s about Baseball!Player Steve and Rockstar!Eddie meeting and falling in love. d) “Momento Mori” is my Wayne & Steve (with Steddie of course) fic for the Stranger Things Big Bang that will be posting in July, so keep an eye on my Tumblr and/or my Ao3. My artist @/the-aphelion-archives has some really cool art being cooked up, so stay tuned for that! e) And last but not least, my Steddie piece “Senior Year” will be posted for the Steddie Big Bang at the end of this summer/early fall during the bang with art made by @/metalfreaks86! This is my 50k fic that spans from just after Season 2 to after Season 4, and involves a lot of heartbreak, and first loves. Keep an eye on my Tumblr and Ao3 for that one too because we do not yet have a release date.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Thank you to whoever nominated me! I often feel like my fics aren’t for everyone because I tend to write for a more serious audience and tackle tougher topics and that just isn’t an overly popular medium in fan fiction––which is fine! Because fan fiction is escapism and I know people use it to feel good, and sometimes you don’t want to read sad stuff. So, I really appreciate people who take the time to read my sad stuff (that ends happily every time, cause I also like happy things haha), and enjoy my hard work. Genuinely, every time I feel like throwing in the towel because I think I’m writing into the void, some little kudo-kween pops up and reminds me that my writing is appreciated. Thanks gang <3 Also!!!! I am ALWAYS accepting requests. Anyone and EVERYONE (anon or not) is welcome to pop into my inbox on Tumblr at ANY TIME to make a Steddie fic request, be that a trope, a tiny Steddie idea or whatever. And if you’ve made a request and I’ve forgotten… please ask again!

Thank you to our author, @skepsiss, and our anonymous nominator! See more of Skepsis_Ree's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[neon-junkie]

In the Heat of the Moment - Chpt.1

Summary: "Less than ten percent of domesticated species go into heats," accord to Tech and his research, and (un)fortunately, you're one of that ten percent. What else are you meant to do? Trapped during a heat cycle with five men - five willing men who are happy to help relieve you, but not all have the confidence to say so.

Relationship: The Bad Batch x fem!Reader (she/her)

Tags: Heats, Mating, Sex pollen, Friends with benefits, Friends to lovers, Slow burn, Sex, Jealousy, Pining, Scents, Knotting, Creampies, slightly A/B/O, Tags to be added.

Word count: 1.5k

[Chapter 2]

Notes: I've had this series in my drafts for a while. I keep adding to it here and there, and I figured I should start to post *something*. Not going to lie, I purely had myself in mind when writing this. I've been tired of trying to write for an audience, and instead, I'm just writing what I want to read. I also miss writing smut-centered fics, so let's scratch all of those itches at once!!

For context: Your heat is vaguely based off the heat cycles that you see in animals. Once a year, your species goes through a heat cycle, where you have a high physical urge to mate. These can last 1-2 months, depending on if/when you mate. I took a lot of inspiration from the sex pollen trope, kinda "fuck or die" but without the death. Just a lot of pain/discomfort. It's a craving, your body NEEDS to fuck or else you're going to get nasty about it. Very nasty. The lads won't be happy with your attitude, but how can they turn down such a pretty and desperate thing?

Chapter 1 - And here we are...

"I should not be doing this."

"I should certainly not be doing this."

"I understand that I am assisting you, but this? This is going to get me reported, shamed, decommissioned and-"

"Tech, please!" you whine. "Stop thinking out loud. I'm only going to report you if you hold back from what you're doing!"

Tech slams his hips forward, coming to a halt. "I apologise," he mutters, and tightens his grasp on your hips before returning to a brutal pace.

How did it come to this? On your knees, your elbows propped up on the Marauder's pilot chair - Tech's chair, in fact. Speaking of the devil, he's also on his knees behind you, with his cock slamming into your slick cunt.

Tech is 'assisting' you through your heat. Yes, because you're no standard species. The galaxy has a vast variety of beings out there, but "less than ten percent of domesticated species go into heats," accord to Tech and his research.

He had noticed that something was off with you recently - a slight temper, recklessness, lack of sleep - not to mention that you smell. Like, you really stink, so much so that even Wrecker has pointed out that, "you're getting as bad as me!"

And Hunter, poor Hunter, has kept his distance from you. Neither of you have commented on it, almost like a silent, mutual agreement. The poor man has heightened senses, and you can't tell if your scent is driving him the good or bad kind of crazy.

At least your scent is tolerable, a sweet, yet sweaty lingering flavour. Tech had begun silently researching after noticing that your 'new behaviour' had stuck around for a few days, with no intention of disappearing, which brought him to a series of detailed articles about ruts and mating.

Well, the articles weren't about your species specifically, seeing as there was little to be found on that topic, but it gave Tech more than enough to understand what your body is currently going through.

You're horny, to put it blankly. You're pent-up, frustrated, and desperate to be filled.

The Batch had left for a supply run, leaving you and Tech behind to guard (and repair) the ship, which gave him the perfect opportunity to speak to you alone. He began explaining how he has done some research, and "somewhat understands the difficult time you are going through. Perhaps I can assist you in some way?"

Tech said that line with the intention of giving you medical assistance, supplements or whatever, but the pathetic whine that you let out caused his cock to harden, even more so when you shifted your thighs together and innocently asked, "are you suggesting that you can satisfy my natural urges, Tech?"

Back to the present. Tech's eyes drift to the side when he notices a light flashing on his datapad, resting on the co-pilot's seat. "The others are on their way back," he informs you through gritted teeth.

"But we've barely started!" you whine, knowing that your urges will be lingering for the next month. Minimum.

"And we'll find other opportunities to satisfy you, General," Tech comments. He notices the way that your cunt twitches around his length at that word alone - General - because you are his superior, after all.

This is all so complicated, a desirably defective Clone Trooper mating with his Jedi General for the simple purpose of assisting her during her natural urges. Insane, and incredible.

There's a silent and mutual agreement to keep this matter private, seeing as it would... complicate everything. But Tech had already let some information slip when Crosshair caught him researching ruts. "Do I dare ask?" Crosshair had pried, but it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Another hard slam of Tech's hips causes you to let out a heavy moan, and with it, your upper body practically collapses on the pilot's chair. You're fucked out, debauched, yet still craving more. "Where shall I finish?" Tech sputters behind you.

"Inside," is all you can whimper.

Tech's hips come to a halt, "I may be willing to assist you during your heat, but I am not willing to impregnate you," he comments with a raised finger.

Peering over your shoulder, you explain, "I can't interbreed."

"Oh," Tech blankly sighs, and his finger softens before returning to your hip. "In that case, I'll happily finish inside," he cheerfully smiles.

And with that, he's slamming into you again, his brows furrowing from the pure intensity of it all. It doesn't take much for you to climax, just a few messy rubs on your clit, and you're cumming on Tech's cock with a series of pathetic moans escaping your lips.

Tech practically explodes, his mind fogging up at the sensation of your cunt gripping the life out of him. You're milking that poor man, and all he can do is fold over and rest his forehead on your back, panting heavily as he waits for you to relax and release your death grip on his cock.

"I..." Tech begins, and licks his lips as he straightens his back. "I assume the males of your species have the ability to knot?" Tech observes.

"What gave it away?" you sarcastically reply, and attempt to relax your muscles, allowing Tech to escape.

Tech lets out a pained, "ah!" as he slips his cock out, then tucks his poor little trooper away. "I'll certainly need to get used to that sensation," Tech casually states.

"Did it... hurt?" you ask, and begin cleaning yourself up, tucking your Jedi robes back into place.

"Not at all, but I am particularly sore," Tech replies as he offers you a hand, pulling you up to your feet. You watch as he clasps his codpiece back into place, followed by correcting a few pieces of armour that have drifted astray during his wild turn of events. You needed urgent care, and Tech didn't see much point in removing his armour when he's simply providing assistance.

There's a moment of silence, an awkward pause, and Tech breaks it by nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he states, "feel free to ask for assistance when you next need it."

"Oh..." you stutter. "Yeah, thank you, Tech."

Like the fool that you are, you push up onto tiptoes to plant a light kiss on Tech's lips, before making your way through the Marauder, ready to splash your face with cold water in the refresher.

Everything happened so fast. You were painfully aroused, and ate Tech up like a three-course meal. Your hormonal urge has been filled, but from experience, you know that this is only a temporary fix. Hopefully, before you know it, your yearly rut will be over, and you'll be back for to your standard, witty self.

As for now, you'll need to tolerate it, and redeem your Tech voucher whenever the time is right.

After coming to your senses in the confinement of the refresher, you shimmy out to find that the others have returned, shopping bags in hand. "You look tired," Echo comments as soon as he locks eyes with you, and you're unsure if that's a statement or an insult.

"That's what happens when you spend the afternoon doing repairs," you sarcastically reply, and Echo rewards you with an eye roll.

Wrecker is quick to drag your attention away as he begins going through the fascinating new foods that he's brought, all thanks to your Republic credits. You're starved, hungrier than usual during your troubled times, and before you can pick out a treat and tuck in, somebody else pulls your attention away.

"Here-" Hunter interrupts. He chucks a small prescription bottle at you, the tablets rattling as they come into contact with your hand, and you rotate the bottle to read its label. "For your... new problem," Hunter explains before heading down the ship, obviously trying to keep his distance, even more so seeing as he can't simply hand the tablets over to you.

Wrecker can be heard sniffing the air, and proudly comments, "you don't stink any more!"

How innocent he is, unaware that you've been given assistance to your 'medical problem.' "Yeah," you say with a soft laugh. "Scrubbed extra hard in the refresher this morning."

"I still think your problem is stress related..." Wrecker begins, and waffles on about his thoughts and opinions on the matter. All the while, your eyes gloss over the label, the cure to your problems sitting in the palm of your hand. Yet, your mind is asking the same silly question over and over.

Why don't you want to take these pills?

[thelarriefics]

TOP 10 DEVILINMYBRAIN FICS:

Tumblr: @thedevilinmybrain​

babydoll blues (111k)

Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?

the agony and the rapture (79k)

Louis thinks back to that first day, sitting in that pub with Harry, asking him about heaven. He hadn't thought much of it then, but maybe Harry's word choice had a heavy weight behind it. If Louis would see paradise when he got to heaven, what would Harry see? What is home like for him? It must be something else with the way Harry is always cowering around, fearful of the above.

“Do you think we’re worth it?” Louis asks, glancing over at Harry. “Humans? Worth all the drama?”

“Of course, you’re worth it.” Harry doesn’t pull his gaze away from the window, staring at the rendering of the angel again. It really is in his likeness. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought you weren’t.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Louis’ tone goes soft, so very sincere. “Glad you were assigned to me.”

into that goodnight (62k)

Once upon a time, there was a boy. But not just any sort of boy. This was a clever boy, the cleverest of them all.

and i would search the night sky to find you (56k)

Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. He has his whole life already planned for him, learning his place as the potential mate for an important Alpha, practicing his home making skills, and be obedient above all else.

When he attends a school trip into town though, he meets Louis Tomlinson - a blacksmith and mouthy Alpha who doesn't particularly care for the standards of high society nor for the people in it. But things are not always what they seem and a past grievance may change the lives of everyone involved forever.

secrets don't make friends (30k)

5 times Louis' crew knew too much, and the 1 time they thought they knew, but didn't really. Not at all.

you're shooting stars from the barrel of your eyes (20k)

5 times Louis was gross hot and 1 time Harry was.

i'm a captain on a jealous sea (15k)

It’s not that Louis doesn’t like Nick. He is, if he’s being honest, kind of indifferent. Louis gets that Nick is just doing his job most of the time, being loud and prying, not having boundaries. But it’s just a little too much for Louis’ taste. Louis, who has learned over the years, when to be loud and when to know that coy is the game. But, it doesn’t matter really. He’s not required to like everyone, doesn’t have to make nice with them outside of having a camera shoved in his face. He can let Nick be Nick and it shouldn’t affect Louis at all.

Except.

What Louis actually has a problem with is the way Nick Grimshaw looks at Harry.

stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) (12k)

Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

to be a better man (9k)

“I can tell how much of a good boy you think he is.” Leon’s snarl doesn’t change, the corner of his mouth lifting higher. “But he’s still calling me, not you, hm?”

“Watch your mouth.” Louis is about done with this conversation. Who the fuck talks about their own boyfriend like this? “Or are you accusing me of something?”

“Just giving you an out, lad. Like Harry would even look at you. He’s too busy crawling up my ass to notice anyone else.” Leon snarls, rolling his eyes in a dismissive shake of his head. “But if you’re so concerned, go see what he wants. Make him happy enough to leave me alone, eh? Since you’re so worried.”

I don't know if I could ever go without (5k)

Sunshine is pouring in through the bedroom window, hazy with early morning and the bitterness that is a December London. It hasn't snowed yet but there is rain in the forecast, dark clouds probably rolling in from the coast later tonight. No one will think to bother them, too caught up in their own quarantine, their own lives. It's the first time in a long time that Louis doesn't have to worry about their phones ringing or someone coming to knock on their door or flight itineraries. Right now, it's all soft and warm, sliding over white sheets and the mess of brown curls next to him.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Six.

Are things about to get spicy for our troubled pair? Hmm. Maybe... ;)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,367

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

She could feel her lips starting to throb from the kiss they’d entered what must have been minutes ago, yet to actually part from, her fingernails softly circling at the nape of his neck. Ella truly couldn’t remember a single other moment recently where she’d felt so happy, having the bloke she knew she’d begun to like more than a friend show her that yes, he felt just the same as she did. Until he suddenly pulled away with a groan. 

“Sorry, babe. Gotta stop for a minute, or I’ll do something stupid,” he lamented, arms still around her.  

“Like what?” 

He chuckled, low and dirty, shaking his head as he closed his eyes tightly. “Like drag you to a dark corner somewhere and start taking your clothes off.” 

“James!” She was a little aghast, but only because she liked his forwardness.  

“What?” he barked, laughter continuing. “I’m a bloke, we have a turn on speed of about four seconds!”  

Hugging him tightly, she suddenly fully understood what he meant. Oooh. “Oh, right. Yeah. Something came up to say hello.” 

“Innit.” 

She threw her head back, softly thumping his chest with her fist. “Do you want to go for a walk, calm down a bit?” 

“As much as I can walk with a raging hard-on, yeah.”  

“Cool beans, come on.” Turning back, they walked around to the main path that led through the middle of the grounds, James taking her hand in his, feeling a little sparkle within that hadn’t existed prior to kissing her.  

“So, little. Do you believe me now? Cos’ you’ve gotta stop letting what shitty people said about you years ago affect the way you see yourself and all that. Dickheads, the lot of ‘em.”  

His words matched everyone else’s there. “I know I do. I know. it’s so difficult for me to get that through my head, though. Skin and bones aren’t an achievement over them. I worked that one out with Dr. Beaumont the other day. I don’t like, get any prizes for being so thin, it isn’t shoving their noses in what they used to say about me, because they aren’t even in my life any longer.” 

“Yet you still fear the mashed potatoes,” he chirped, watching her cringe and giving her hand a little squeeze. “When we get out of here, come round mine and if Snedders is still living there, I’ll get him to make you some. Fuck knows what the fella does with ‘em, but they taste amazing. He’s a flid, but shitting hell, the lad can cook.” 

The mention of the scary food was diminished slightly by his statement, that in his mind, he wanted to have contact with her on the outside. That showed thinking ahead, and the thought of it made her beam. For James, though, he kicked himself. While he knew he’d love that future, a life away from the facility with her in it, he didn’t know if he was capable of promising it to her.  

The last thing he wanted was to hurt the adorable little soul he’d begun to find himself becoming very much attached to.  

Coming to a stop beneath one of the large oak trees stretching tall into the sky, he sat with his back to the trunk, Ella making herself comfortable between his long legs as she rested against his chest.  

“Can I make a request?” 

“You can,” he confirmed. 

“More kisses, please?” 

Oh, she’d kill him with that cuteness. Who was he to say no to that, and the sweet little face the statement came with? He could have tried harder to engage his more rational thoughts as he leaned to press his lips to hers, but not doing so felt much too good.  

She felt dreamy as her tongue swirled softly with his, noting to herself again what an amazing kisser he was. Sensual, she guessed she’d describe it, no clashing of teeth or experiencing the back of her mouth being infiltrated by an overly keen tongue. James definitely knew what he was doing.  

It certainly made her wonder how good his tongue would feel on her... ooh. Reverse that thought. That was a little too much when there was nowhere she could sneak off with him and comfortably experience it. It also brought with it issues that were scary, having somebody see her naked. No, kissing would suffice for that moment, her hand rooting in his masses of silky, black hair, the other resting where his hand lay just beneath her ribcage.  

Again, they lost themselves to it, but predictably for him, the negative thoughts began to creep in. At least they kept the physical manifestation of his desire for her in check, James knowing that he they didn’t, he’d likely have flattened her to the grass and taken things much further than just kissing. Then again, the presence of orderlies touring the grounds every so often also nipped that in the bud.  

“Your heart's beating really quick," she spoke, pulling away, moving her mouth to kiss the side of his neck.  

“Are you surprised?” he exclaimed, leaning to her. “Getting me all sexually vexed, innit. Trust me, if we were at my place right now, I’d be carrying you over my shoulder to bed.” 

“Don’t even say it!” she whined, closing her eyes painedly. “I haven’t had a shag in such a long, long time!” 

“How long’s a long, long time?” 

Her wincing continued. “Trust me, feels like it was in the Stoneage. I am not a happy camper about it either. It’s big time embarrassing.” 

“No need to be. Mine’s been a while. Five months, or thereabouts.” 

Immediately, she hid her face behind her hands. “Mine is way longer. Like, a year and a bit longer.” 

His eyebrows almost vanished into his hairline. “You fucking what? Over a year? Shitting hell.” 

“Yeah," she snorted, “gagging for it doesn’t really come close, now I’m a bit healthier and actually have a sex drive again. And now I have the attention of a man who looks like you, and kisses like you do, too. Made me feel all hot in my pants, you have.” 

He groaned, hiding his face against his shoulder for a moment. “Don’t tell me things like that. Fuck, I’m having enough trouble trying to stop myself from diving on you as it is. Then there’s the whole scared of breaking you issue. Because I think I would, innit.”  

She shouldn’t say it, and she knew she shouldn’t. “Getting you between my legs would be more than worth it. Too bleedin’ sexy for your own good.” Turning, she moved to sit astride him, having a quick glance around for any patrolling orderlies. None were seen. Turning back to him, her mouth pressed to his, the heat of the kiss swirling like a summer tempest.  

She could feel her arousal dampening the fear of his hands beginning to explore, roaming beneath her top, fingers curling up to stroke at the tiny curve of what little in the way of breasts she had left. When he pinched at her nipples gently, the mewled gasp it pulled from her set his blood to burn, beginning to lift her top. Immediately, she halted his hands. 

“No, please don’t. I don’t want you to see me underneath it.” 

Seeing the panic in her eyes at the idea of being seen so closely, he nodded, stroking her face. After all, she wore long tops and baggy clothes for a reason.  

“I’m sorry, but I just... I can’t even have sex without my top on. I hate being seen, and I’m not saying we’re about to do that...” 

He silenced her babbling with his mouth pressing to hers. “Ella, it’s fine. All in your own time, babe.”  

Their kissing resumed, his hands gently stroking her hardened nipples through her top rather than beneath it, feeling her relax, a breathy sigh fluttering from her mouth into his. Thier tryst began to gain heat, her body yearning for more, not stopping him when one hand slipped down to begin unbuttoning her trousers.  

It was a brave move, to allow somebody to touch a body she detested so intimately, the payoff more than worth it when his fingers sank into the warm, honey wet of her folds, James groaning as he kissed her with blinding lust. Guitarists had dexterity in shades, and she knew this, but the way he touched her was something else. Long fingers stroked a heavenly aurora over her clit, dipping inside, rotating until she clenched around them, pulling back to continue rubbing over her bundle until he had her crying out.  

“Shhh, or you’ll alert the gestapo,” he rasped, mouth at her neck, her hands rooting into his hair as her hips swayed against his hand.  

“Yeah... something about me... I’m... fuck, I’m not quiet when I’m about to... ahhhh!” Come, she would have said, but the way her eyes virtually rolled back in her head as her body stiffened, he could guess that for himself.  

“Shitting hell, darlin’. That was quick!” he laughed, kissing her, his fingers gentling before he pulled his hand away. “I know I’m good, but really?” 

“What can I say that I haven’t already?” she panted, her eyes swimming with desire, her cheeks flushed rosy. “Told you it had been a while.” Tickling his lips with her tongue, she squeaked when he bit it softly, kissing her way to the side of his throat while her hands reached for his jeans. “Mmm, your turn now.” 

Sadly for James, though, it wasn’t. 

“Ella! James! I see you down there.” Both shared an annoyed groan for hearing Chris call to them from the path. “Unstick yourselves from one another, please. Let’s keep this PG and not broaching on an eighteen!”  

“To use one of your favourite phrases, not cool beans,” he grumbled, Ella fastening her trousers again before they stood up, both looking to where the orderly stood and made sure nothing else was about to occur beneath the tree. “And now that’s twice I’ve had to try and walk off a hard-on in the past half an hour. Fucks sake.”  

“I’m sorry, sexy,” she purred, grabbing his hand, James releasing it to wrap an arm around her instead. “I’ll ask Andrea for her hiding places and drag you off there soon.”  

He grinned. “Can you ask her in the next ten minutes?” 

“As much as I want to, I think we’ll have to wait until the gestapo won’t be onto us for going off to do exactly that.”  

“Fucking hate that we’re watched like kids when we’re grown adults. This place can full on suck my fucking dick.” In truth, now his brain wasn’t so clouded by the swirling storm of arousal, it was likely better they parted when they did. He knew himself, after all. If gone too far on arousal, he likely would have pulled her trousers off and had sex right there with her against the tree.  

His thoughts and emotions, he needed to bring them to order. He had to regain a little control in a situation that no matter how good it felt, needed processing in line with what was best for them both and their recovery. They sat together for the rest of the afternoon and evening in the common room, until it was closed at 10pm, both returning to their rooms for the night.  

While lying on his bed, he began to think about it all, what had begun to happen between him and Ella. He wanted it to, there was no mistaking that. Unfortunately, it clashed with the uncomfortable truth of whether he should. If one good thing had come from therapy sessions, it was knowing that burdening himself with extra worries on top of attempting to get well again – which at any given moment he either did or didn’t want - were not conducive to his overall mental wellbeing.  

Keeping away from his little shining light of solace was another matter entirely, though. 

“Seriously, you took these?”  

Combing her hair from her face, she nodded, feeling a spark flare in her chest. Ella seldom showed her photography to people, but had a little book there with her at the facility, something the staff felt beneficial to her recovery. It was an incentive to get back out there again with her camera, although she didn’t have that there with her. All she had access to was the sight of other people’s pain, which she didn’t feel was a particularly good photographic subject.  

“Yeah, yeah these couple are from Draycote Water, those two are Great Central Walk,” she began. 

“I recognise the bridge, yeah! We did a band photoshoot up there,” he enthused, studying her work a little closer, flicking through to the next page. “Is that Caldecott Park?” 

“It is, yes! It’s like, a two-minute walk from my mum’s house, so I used to be there all the time, clicking away.” On the outside, they didn’t live far from each other at all, Ella in Rugby and him in Nuneaton. It took about twelve minutes via train. “The next few are from when I took a camera to the Global Gathering rave in Long Marston, so lots of people absolutely off their faces on E’s.” 

“You into all that, then, the ecstasy culture?” 

“Yep, I like it every so often, dropping a pill and then dancing in euphoria for about five hours. Well, I did. I think I might have outgrown it a bit now at twenty-two,” she revealed, closing her eyes for a moment and remembering it. She missed it, the pounding beat of dance music charging over her body as a dose of MDMA floated through her nerves and made her feel nothing but bliss.  

“I’ve tried it a few times, but it don’t wanna make me dance,” he spoke, chuckling as he remembered the last time he’d dropped a pill. “Goes right to my fucking dick, innit. I come up and I just wanna shag for hours on end. Nearly put a new hole in my ex, poor bird couldn’t walk properly for a few days.”  

“Lucky her,” she winked. 

He snorted softly, turning the page. “She probably wouldn’t have agreed with you afterwards, fucking whinging her tits off that she felt like her fanny was gonna fall out.” 

His words prompted her to practically scream with laughter, another who was close by not quite as entertained by his statement as Ella was.  

“Can we keep all talk of fanny-destroying shagging to a minimum, please?” Andrea requested, lowering the magazine she was engrossed in. “This is not good for my recovery.” And that was why she permanently had her nose in a magazine. Reading meant she could stop thinking about sex for longer than a few minutes.  

Ella winced, realising. “Sorry, sweetie.” 

James couldn’t help himself. “Steve sends his regards.” 

A shudder rippled her as she remembered the man with the chocolate brown eyes, and piercings in his lip and tongue that had felt very pleasurable when she’d kissed him. She took a deep breath, ignoring the soft laughter of her two cohorts. “And I am counting to ten, I am not thinking about sitting on that pretty man’s face, I am not thinking about going to town on his dick, I am counting to ten and reminding myself that healthy sexual desires are better than obsessive compulsions.”  

“Steve really wouldn’t mind if you had an obsessive compulsion about him.” 

He received an elbow from Ella for that. “Behave!” 

“Thank you, Ella,” Andrea spoke, cracking one eye open a fraction and giving the middle finger to James. He only continued to look pleased with himself. “Bloody church burner and your yap.” 

“Oi, only she’s allowed to call me that!”  

She bobbed her tongue at him, going back to her calming thoughts, clearing her mind of his best friend while he and Ella continued chatting. They only parted for the rest of the day at dinner, heading back to one another in the common room, sitting apart until the orderly's swapped shifts, Gus coming in to oversee. He shook his head with a soft laugh as soon as Ella moved to plant herself on James’s lap for a cuddle while they watched TV.  

While it was true that relationships between patients were heavily discouraged, he couldn’t discount that the pair seemed a lot brighter while around one another. He also counted anything that kept James calm and not running his mouth as a plus, too.  

By 9pm, it was just the two of them there, Gus in the corner reading a newspaper, Ella cuddled with her head beneath James’s chin as she enjoyed the feel of him stroking her thigh.  

Feeling her lips suddenly press his neck, he raised his eyebrow while looking down upon her. “Calm yourself, little.” 

“I am calm,” she chirped, kissing his cheek, her dainty fingers circling the centre of his chest. “Just thinking how lovely you are.” 

He pressed a long kiss to her forehead, closing his eyes, the soft, fresh scent of her daisy body spray lingering under his nose. She had a habit of spritzing wildly. His thoughts began to gnaw at him once more, having to admit it to himself. He’d been falling for her for weeks, and while in any other circumstance that would have been positive, the timing was just so, so wrong.  

She shouldn’t be his primary focus, yet he felt her definitely shifting into the forefront of his thoughts. Ella, his sweet little ray of sunshine, the girl who made the experience of being locked away in a mental health facility all the more bearable by just being who she was.  

He had her to consider in all of this, too. 

She was becoming just as attached to him, anybody with eyes could see that clearly, and it panicked him, what that would mean for her own recovery. How would she take it, for him to be so keen one moment and then cool things with her the next? She was far from an even keel with her eating disorder, but risking her suffering a setback to the progress she had made was something he steadfastly did not want to do.  

“Come on then, lovebirds,” Gus spoke, closing his paper, “time to say goodnight.”  

Lovebirds. Quite apt, if James chose to admit it, but doing so made his thoughts race unpleasantly.  

“See you tomorrow then, BFG,” Ella spoke, pecking his cheek and hugging him close before they parted ways, noticing the hug she received back wasn’t quite to his usual standard. 

“Yeah, darlin’. Sleep well.”  

Kissing her head, he stroked her face with his thumbs before turning to head for the stairs, the usual noise from the more rambunctious and unsound of the male patients meeting him as he walked back onto the ward. Big Keith was on form again, so he could hear. 

Once in his room, he let his clothes fall to the floor, climbing into bed and staring up at the ceiling, trying to zone out. If only his thoughts would let him. He was stuck, he knew it now, stuck between what he wanted to do and what he should. The former was the continuation of pursuing what he had with Ella, and the latter, well, calling it off altogether for that time at least. He couldn’t discount the happiness she brought him, but at what cost? 

His moods were evening out much more, he felt better than he had in a long time and he knew she was the reason for that. He also knew that while the very dark thoughts he had still plagued him, the desire to chase death too in his moments of hopelessness, he did not want to put her through that.  

He wouldn’t put her through that. Not with his head still such a mess. 

Lying there alone, with only his rapidly firing brain for company, he felt the darkness pulling at him once more. The void within called out its siren’s song, and for the first time in weeks, he let himself hear it all over again. 

This couldn’t continue.  

[in-death-we-fall]

Scar Tissue

Scar the Martyr marks Joey Jordison’s first new music since the death of his Slipknot songwriting partner, Paul Gray. It’s helped heal his wounds and got him excited for the future…

Words: Paul Travers Photo: Paul Harries (drive link)

Joey Jordison and Paul Gray were in many ways the beating, bloody heart right at the centre of Slipknot. They were both in there from the start. They named the band. They were also the core writing team. Joey once said that when he was writing, he’d always just know where a Paul idea would fit just right. When the bassist died in May 2010, Joey lost an important piece of his musical puzzle.

Some of Slipknot’s scars have healed, through their live shows, including an incredible headline slot at this year’s Download. But now, Joey is finally flexing his creative muscles again, with Scar The Martyr. It’s not the new Slipknot album, but their self-titled debut is the first new music the drummer has written since the death of his best friend and songwriting partner. For Joey, though, Paul Gray’s influence still permeates everything he does.

“It’s always going to be difficult,” he sighs. “It will never not be hard to write without him, because he was my partner and my best friend. But there’s a huge part of Paul in me. I know what he’s thinking, I know when he’s upset, I know when he’s happy; I can read his emotions. This might sound weird to people, but I still talk to paul. He still talks to me and it’s spooky. He might not be here in the flesh, but he’s still here in the spirit. When I get stuck I go, ‘What would you do now?’ and he tells me. He helps me when I get stuck.”

That songwriting partnership might still survive in an ethereal fashion, but Scar The Martyr is a very different beast to Slipknot. The album is dense and dark, taking in post-punk atmospherics and tempering its noise-flecked industrial clatter with vibrant melodies and surging synths.

“Do I think it will surprise people?” Joey muses. “Perhaps not so much as other things I’ve done. When I put out the Murderdolls record (2002’s Beyond The Valley Of The Murderdolls), that was a completely left-field move from what I was known for. But for the record I do think that Slipknot fans will totally dig this album.”

That is good. Because the seeds for Scar The Martyr were sown when Joey began the painful process of trying to pick up writing for Slipknot’s long-awaited fifth album.

“I went into the studio and wrote a load of songs for Slipknot. A load of songs,” he says. “I wrote about 30 songs and the stems of another 20, so that’s 50 songs. But when I realised Slipknot wasn’t going to be happening for a while I stayed in the studio and started this.”

Hang on, 50 Slipknot songs? How come this isn’t going on the new record, then?

“The timing just wasn’t right,” admits Joey. “We have to all be on the same page at the same time, but I still have those songs ready for the new Slipknot album. Once we get together we’ll tear them to pieces and see what works.”

So you’re saying the album’s written?

“We might use one song or we might use all of ‘em. I don’t know what the fuck we’ll do.”

Okay. So did Scar The Martyr allow you to make an album without the pressure that the new Slipknot record would?

“There is less pressure,” says Joey. “There are no expectations, so yeah, it’s a lot easier. But I’m not sitting in there just jacking off. This band is now a part of me, just like Slipknot is.”

With the music written, Joey assembled an impressive bunch of ex-men, with Jed Simon (ex-Strapping Young Lad) and Kris Norris (ex-Darkest Hour) on guitars, and Chris Vrenna (ex-Nine Inch Nails) on keyboards. Joey handled drums and bass himself and recruited a largely unknown vocalist, Henry Derek.

“I did want a vocalist that no-one would know,” Joey explains. “Someone put me in touch with Henry and I sent him four songs. When he returned them, I was blown away – he was totally who I was looking for.”

Henry was given free reign on the lyrics. As a consequence, Joey isn’t willing to discuss the themes on the album. The drummer does, however, reveal that much of the turmoil and anguish of the past three years has been channelled into this new project.

“It’s different from anything I’ve ever done and I think you can tell the emotion in the music,” he nods. “I was in a really different place when I was writing this stuff. It’s not just anger, although there is some in there. There’s reflection, beauty – all kinds of different moods.”

And how is Joey Jordison feeling right now?

“I’m ecstatic,” he beams. “I’m really excited. Whatever happens in the long-term isn’t the focus right now, but we’re going to be around for a while.”

That’s good news in one respect, but where it leaves Slipknot’s immediate future is still unclear.

“I can’t tell you an exact timeline,” Joey shrugs. “Stone Sour’s still out [on tour] and I’ve got this record, but [Slipknot] are still playing shows to keep in touch with our fans. It’s just a matter of waiting until it feels right for Slipknot to get back in there.”

What do you think it’ll be like when that happens?

“Whenever it is, it’s gonna be the perfect time, because we’ve never had this much material, ever,” enthuses the drummer. “I just got three song ideas the other day from Corey [Taylor], and they’re fucking awesome. Corey’s primarily been a lyricist in the band, and it’s cool to see someone who doesn’t normally write the music getting so excited about making Slipknot’s next record.”

So Slipknot is still for the future. But for now, Joey has Scar The Martyr to immerse himself in. You get the feeling that somewhere out there, his songwriting partner and best friend would approve.

Scar The Martyr’s self-titled album is out on September 30 via Roadrunner

We’ve seen it live!

Joey unveiled his new band in New York on August 10. We got the first look! Review: Hardeep Phull Live photo: Shaun Regan

It only takes a few songs of Scar The Martyr’s first headline show to realise that Joey Jordison is not trying to create Slipknot Mk II. Instead, the band are attempting to carve out a sound that has more in common with industrial pioneers like Ministry and Killing Joke through songs such as Never Forgive Never Forget.

Although the broader scope and ambition is impressive, it’s the traditionally heavier songs that Scar The Martyr perform more confidently. With it’s (sic) siren-like opening riff and relentless pace, the first single Blood Host is already a crowd-pleaser, if only because it’s the only song anyone has heard to date, while the crushingly heavy finale of Last Night On Earth is where the band give a tantalising glimpse of how good they could turn out to be.

So, with Slipknot still on hold, this is Joey’s main bag for a bit. Us maggots can wait a little longer, as Scar The Martyr are a brilliant distraction.

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of June. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) All This Time | Teen & Up | 1046 words

Louis Tomlinson had been best friends with flower shop owner Gemma Styles for years. It wasn't until she suggested he date her alpha brother that he ever thought of Harry that way. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea...

2) On The Borderline Tonight | Mature | 1470 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Ethan Hawke.

Louis is an artist in need of inspiration. He finds it one sunny afternoon in a Brooklyn coffee shop.

3) Everything Is So Fine, Little Bit Of Sunshine | Not Rated | 2,009 words

Fluffy PWP of catboy Louis and his boyfriend Harry.

4) Soulmated | Mature | 2046 words

Niall forces Louis on a date. Ends differently than both of them expected.

5) Beauty And The Beast | Explicit | 2216 words

A virginal Louis is ‘sacrificed’ to the Beast to ensure the safety of his village. Dressed in ceremonial attire, Louis is locked in the stocks at nightfall and offered up to the Beast.

6) Darling, Just Hold On | Explicit | 2481 words

“I’m actually dying for a piss, but I don’t really know what to do about that. Here’s COACOAC.”

7) Thank You Five! | Explicit | 2719 words

It’s fifteen minutes to the start of Harry’s set and he is nowhere to be seen, much to the stress of everyone else……it might be that he is a little busy with a certain blue-eyed Doncaster lad.

8) Obey Your Alpha | Explicit | 3413 words

Harry and Louis are mated, but Simon isn't happy about it. He ends up separating them from each other. All is good though.

9) Don't You Know That I Am Right Here? | Mature | 4314 words

Louis is proud to be an Omega but his journey hasn’t been exactly easy so far. There’s nothing technically “wrong” with him, or so his doctor likes to remind him when he goes to see him every year since he was 15. His situation is more unusual than a medical problem, but it doesn’t mean most alphas will see it that way. When yet another inconvenient heat threatens to disturb his grad school move-out date, he sets a plan in motion. Enter best friend and gentle alpha Harry Styles.

10) I Can't Get You Off My Mind (I Still Crave It) | Mature | 4519 words

"You're an idiot," It was Lya's time to interrupt. "Why would you want another guy when you already have yours? Don't you ever get tired of those silly games?" "It is different!," Louis defended himself again, mouth open. "How come it is different?," Lya asked again. "I love Harry," it was easy like breathing. "He's the love of my life, I'm going to marry him," Louis looked around, until his eyes looked with Harry's, glossy and vibrant. "That guy was just a hook."

11) The Way to My Heart | Teen & Up | 6516 words

Louis' having a bit of a dry spell, until he bumps into an attractive alpha in the supermarket and leaves with his number. It was a hard bump. Very... muscular. The only problem is, said alpha asks Louis to cook for him - which is not exactly his skill set.

12) New Alpha | Mature | 6841 words

Request: Can you do omega Louis goes into heat and Harry finds him. They mate and Louis get's pregnant. But with more story behind it. Thanks (I know it's standard. But I really love werewolf stories.)

13) Rock My World | Mature | 14238 words

Harry threw the burly guy off the hot, clueless man in seconds. Harry turned his back to the pit of rowdy men and planted his feet to keep them steady. “Are you okay, kid?” The man he saved was even more beautiful than Harry expected. His tiny, elfish nose crinkled at the pet-name. The black lines around his eyes made his blue eyes even more striking. His cheekbones were prominent, making his overall frame even more small. “My name is Louis and I’m fine. Get off me, perve!” Harry hadn’t realized he’d kept his free hand against the small of his back or that it kept the man pressed directly his chest. Harry hated releasing him even in the slightest; Louis was much safer here. “Can you not see I’m security? That it’s my job to save idiots like you?” “Idiot?” Louis shouted to be heard over the man currently screaming his head off into the microphone. “Well, I’m sorry for being small, you dick! Not my fault they slammed into me!”

14) One Day I'll Come Into Your World And Get It Right (A Relaxing Afternoon.... Or Is It?) | Explicit | 14652 words

Zayn treated Louis to an afternoon massage with his friend Harry. They meant well. But Louis was sensitive, and Harry found him too much for his taste and... They're going to send Zayn a fruit basket.

15) What's Left Of My Halo's Black | Explicit | 22464 words As Harry sucks lovebites into Louis’ neck, Louis hopes that one day those marks will cover the way he can still feel Alex’s handprints burned into his flesh. As Harry’s nails drag scratches along Louis’ back, Louis hopes that one day the scabs on his heart will heal and drop away just like the scabs on his skin. As Harry fucks him down into the mattress, the bed shaking with every thrust, Louis hopes that one day his mouth will forget the shape of Alex’s name, won’t trace it over and over as the heat builds inside him, won’t want to scream it when he comes. Maybe one day he’ll open his eyes, as he slowly floats down from his post-orgasm haze, and won’t expect to see Alex’s face smiling back at him. But today is not that day.

16) True Blue | Explicit | 23409 words

Louis has always prided himself on making plans. His freshman year of high school he’d spent the entire night color-coding a five-year plan to get him to the exact career that he’s in today. When his parents wouldn’t let him and Zayn see the midnight premiere of the final Harry Potter, he’d crafted an intricate slideshow mapping out each outcome that his parents were worried about and countering every argument they’d tried to give. Just last week he’d sat down with Harry and forced him to listen to his ten-step process for them to secure the front row at their favorite artist’s show. It’s with this experience under his belt that he starts to devise another plan. One to start pulling his weight and also to prove to Harry and everyone that he is very much capable of fending for himself, thank you very much.

17) Hope Your Life Leads You Back To My Door | Explicit | 56709 words

“What’s the matter?” Louis asked quickly, eyes wide in alarm. “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never gone anywhere alone like this,” Harry whispered, his voice shaky. Louis didn’t look surprised, but there was something really fiery about him as he spoke again. “Then come now,” he insisted with a grin. “Just trust me. Get on this train with me and I promise you’ll have so much fun.” Louis Tomlinson wasn’t ever someone Harry thought he’d trust or look to with such open admiration for having the spirit to do things like this, but suddenly, he did. He trusted him and he wanted this. He was going to do it.

18) Where I Burn To Be | Explicit | 143346 words

There were very few people who managed to get under Louis’ skin as effortlessly as Harry had, and even fewer who had done it in only a day and a half. It was quite an accomplishment, really. They’d only interacted a handful of times and yet Louis had the insatiable desire to slam the locker into that frustratingly well-defined face that never seemed to hold any expressions other than contempt and arrogance. “That’s right. I do own the skies. And you wanna know why?” he sneered. Without his boots on, Louis was a fair bit shorter than Harry, his eyes pretty much level with Harry’s chin and his socked toes bumping into the boots of the other man, close enough that Louis could make out the tiny scar on Harry’s brow and the individual shades of emerald in his irises. He was handsome, but that only made Louis hate him more. Heart thumping heavily against his sternum and his hands balled into fists, Louis lifted his chin defiantly and plastered a coldhearted smirk across his lips. “Because I’m the best goddamn pilot here.”

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[techsbrowneyes]

Thank you for all the likes and comments on my previous posts. I really appreciate them ❤️

Here’s another fluffy Bad Batch one-shot in an AU where everyone is happy and alive and living on Pabu - just the way I like it!

Also, Phee and Tech have a little surprise :)

Summary: Hunter is confused by the many changes Omega is going through. He needs advice, and Phee is just the person to give it.

Title: Changes

Word count: 2,415

***

Omega was acting strange.

Hunter couldn’t figure it out. One morning she was her usual chipper self, off to school after kissing him good-bye.

The next she was spending hours in the ‘fresher and trying out new hair styles and fretting over her appearance. She even asked him once if he thought she looked pretty. Of course, his opinion didn’t seem to matter because he was her father and he was probably just saying nice things because.

Hunter decided he was terribly inexperienced when it came to adolescent girls. He knew she was going through many changes right now, but he didn’t quite understand what those changes were. Perhaps if he had some advice, he’d be better equipped to handle this new phase in his daughter’s life.

So he decided to pay his sister-in-law a visit. Phee was a woman. She would know what to do, and Hunter would appreciate any help she could give him.

The next morning, after Omega left for school, he set out and walked down to Tech and Phee’s house. The morning air was humid. It was going to be another hot one, but that was no surprise. It was always hot on Pabu. Luckily, there was a perpetual breeze that blew, offering respite and comfort.

When Hunter arrived at his destination, he knocked on the door.

“Door’s open,” Phee called.

Hunter went inside and almost tripped over a toy bantha. Phee and Tech’s twelve-month-old son toddled up to him and tugged on his pants. His full name was Hunter Racer Genoa, but everyone just called him Racer to cut the confusion. Racer had been Tech’s choice for a name.

Racer smiled up at Hunter, revealing a dimple. Hunter smiled back. He and his nephew were best friends.

“How’s my ad’ika?” Hunter asked as he lifted the baby into his arms.

“Determined not to wear his glasses,” Phee answered, coming into the room. She put a pair of goggles on Racer that were nearly identical to his father’s. Racer refused to wear them otherwise. He was having a hard time adjusting, the poor lad.

“So what can I do for you, sergeant?” Phee asked Hunter.

Hunter set Racer down and he toddled away. “I need advice.”

Phee invited him to come sit down. Hunter claimed the sofa. He watched distractedly as Racer lined up all his building blocks in a neat row, smiling because the child reminded him so much of Tech. He was deliberate and thoughtful in his actions.

“It’s Omega,” Hunter said finally, looking up. “She’s been acting . . . strange.”

“Strange,” Phee repeated. “Define that.”

“Just strange. She spends a long time in the ‘fresher fretting over her appearance. She thinks she isn’t beautiful enough, though I tell her otherwise. She snapped at me the other day just because I asked her what was wrong. Honestly, I’m at a complete loss, Phee. I don’t know what to do.”

Phee’s gaze softened. “Hunter, Omega is growing up. It’s perfectly obvious what’s going on.”

Hunter snorted. “You sound like Tech. When he thinks something is obvious, it’s usually not.”

“Omega’s behavior is obvious to me because I was her age once, too.” Phee grinned. “There’s a boy she’s sweet on.”

Hunter stared at her in surprise. “A boy?” he repeated. The idea appalled him. Omega was supposed to be his little girl and now there was a boy in her life? He didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

“Yes. Don’t look so shocked. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“But . . .”

Tech walked through the door that very moment. He didn’t seem to realize Hunter was there, because he sauntered right over to his wife and leaned down to give her a kiss on the lips.

“I missed you, love,” he declared.

“It’s been ten minutes,” Phee pointed out.

“All the same. Ten minutes is akin to one hundred planetary rotations when I am apart from you.”

Hunter wanted to laugh. His brother had turned into such a romantic.

Phee cleared her throat. “Baby, Hunter is here.”

“Oh.”

Tech sounded so disappointed. Hunter bit the inside of his cheek to keep his amusement from showing.

“I came for advice,” he explained. “It’s about Omega.”

“Ah. I take it you were unprepared for the turbulent moments that accompany adolescence.”

“Well, no. I guess I just assumed she’d always be my little girl. You don’t understand because your kid is still a baby. He hasn’t even said his first word yet.”

Everyone glanced over at Racer, who was carefully building a tower out of blocks.

“I’d hardly call him a baby,” Tech said, adjusting his goggles. “He’s remarkably precocious.”

Racer placed another block on his growing tower. But that was one block too many. The tower tilted to the side and collapsed, scattering the blocks around him.

“Kriff,” he said.

Phee sucked in a breath.

Tech’s face lit up in a smile. “I believe that is his first word,” he said proudly.

“Who taught him that,” Phee demanded, sounding upset.

“Don’t look at me,” Hunter said defensively, when she glanced sharply in his direction. “I don’t curse around the children.”

“Neither do I,” Tech seconded.

Phee glared at him. “Well, somebody taught him that.”

The front door slid opened and Crosshair entered the house. He tripped over the scattered blocks.

“Kriff,” he cursed.

Tech pointed. “There is your culprit, love.”

Racer, upon seeing his favorite uncle, squealed in delight and ran to Crosshair. Crosshair lifted the baby up into his arms and smiled broadly. Racer was the only one who could draw it out.

“You put my baby down!” Phee ordered.

Crosshair looked confused. “What?”

“You’re a bad influence on him.”

“Kriff,” Racer said again.

Hunter thought Phee was going to murder Crosshair right then and there. Tech just stood there with his arms crossed, looking amused by the whole situation.

Phee planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t want you using that language around him, you hear?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t teach him that word,” Crosshair said defensively.

“That narrows down the list quite a bit,” Tech remarked dryly.

“He heard it from someone,” Phee said. “I intend to find out who.”

Hunter tuned them out for a moment, drawn back to his own troubles.

Omega liked a boy. That didn’t sit very well with him. She was still young and innocent, and he just couldn’t stand the thought of her growing up so fast. She might prefer that boy over him. She might not want to spend time with him anymore.

Suddenly, he felt utterly despondent.

“What’s with him?” Crosshair asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hunter said sulkily.

His keen sense of smell caught the faint whiff of burning food. He glanced over at Phee, who was fussing over Racer and telling him he shouldn’t curse, and Racer just stared up at her in adoration, looking cute enough to melt even the toughest heart.

“Uh, Phee,” Hunter said. “Are you cooking anything?”

Phee gasped. “Kriff!” She leapt up, shoved Racer into Tech’s arms, and ran into the kitchen.

Crosshair folded his arms over his chest and snorted. “And she wants to blame me for teaching the kid how to curse.”

A moment later, Phee appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish. “I owe all of you an apology,” she said.

Hunter rose to his feet. “Don’t worry about it, Phee. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get going.”

“Where?” Crosshair asked.

“Anywhere. I need to think.”

“Good luck,” Phee said.

Hunter saluted. “Thanks.”

He left Phee and Tech’s house and simply started walking with no particular destination in mind. He just needed to sort his thoughts and make sense of everything going on with Omega.

He was well aware that she wasn’t going to need him forever. She was getting older, and was now wanting to be more independent. He just wished they’d had more time together. He liked being there for her, guiding her when she needed guidance, or simply lending an ear when she wanted to talk. In short, he enjoyed being a father.

Hunter felt no worse or no better by the time he got home later. He’d spent a good portion of time just walking. He was surprised to find that several hours had passed, and he hadn’t even been aware except for the changes in the sun.

Wrecker was sitting at the table in the dining nook, diligently oiling his gun. He liked to keep everything in working order, just in case Phee needed them for a job, which was sporadic at best.

“Where’ve you been?” Wrecker asked.

“Walking,” Hunter answered.

“Thinking about Omega, huh?”

“Yeah. She grew up on me. I don’t know how I feel about that. Phee thinks there’s a young lad in her life.”

Wrecker shrugged. “You mean Rohne.”

Hunter frowned. “You . . . know about that?” He felt bitter suddenly, knowing Omega told Wrecker everything but not him. What was he, chopped liver?

“Nice kid. He likes to go fishing.”

“Huh. I didn’t even know there was a boy until now.”

“I thought it was obvious,” Wrecker said, using Tech’s favorite expression.

Hunter scowled. “Very funny,” he said.

The front door slid open and he looked, expecting to see Omega and what’s-his-face. He planned on employing a healthy dose of intimidation to let the kid know he better watch himself, or there was going to be trouble.

But it was just Crosshair. Racer was in his arms, asleep with his head on Crosshair’s shoulder.

“The lovebirds wanted to be alone,” he said. “I offered to watch the kid.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

“I know.”

Hunter regarded him. “Do you know about Rohne, too?”

Crosshair smirked. “The tall kid with the long hair? Sure I know him. Wanted to know all about my position as the squad’s marksman. I even let him see my kit.”

Hunter was beginning to feel real low right about now. So everyone knew who this Rohne kid was except for him. He didn’t like being left out like this. If his daughter was running around with a boy, he had a right to know. He had a right to meet this kid, see what kind of character he was.

“What’s with him?” Crosshair asked Wrecker.

“Oh, he’s just sore ‘cause he’s the last to know about Rohne,” Wrecker answered.

Hunter didn’t bother to respond. He sank down in a chair and heaved a heavy sigh. Just to keep his hands busy, he un-sheathed his knife and fiddled with it.

“What’s your reading on this Rohne?” he asked his two brothers.

“He’s a good lad,” Wrecker answered. “Says please and thank you. Very polite. Likes fishing.”

“You said that already. I want to know about his morals. Can he be trusted?”

“If you’re worried about this kid, don’t be,” Crosshair said. “He’s aware of what will happen to him if he puts even a single toe out of line. I made sure of it.”

Well, at least that was comforting. But that was supposed to be Hunter’s job. He was supposed to be the one to let the kid know nothing good would come to him if he hurt Omega in any way.

He didn’t despair, though. He was going to make sure he got to meet this kid. He was going to ask Omega to invite him over to dinner, then he’d see for himself if this Rohne was good enough for his daughter.

His senses prickled. He looked up at the door, knowing Omega was approaching. He sat up straighter.

The door slid open and Omega entered, followed by this tall, gangly kid with long, dark hair. He suspected this was the infamous Rohne.

“Hi everyone,” Omega greeted warmly.

“Hiya, kiddos,” Wrecker returned.

Crosshair just nodded.

Hunter stared at Rohne. Rohne stared back, unflinching and curious. Hunter was begrudgingly impressed by the kid’s audacity.

“Oh, Dad, this is Rohne,” Omega introduced, smiling shyly. “Rohne, this is my dad, Hunter.”

Rohne stuck out a hand. Hunter grasped it and they shook. The kid had a nice, strong handshake. Hunter considered that a good quality in a man.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Rohne said politely. “Omega has told me all about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Hunter said, smiling.

“Good things, I promise.”

“So you like fishing, is that right?”

“Oh, yes. I enjoy it very much, sir.”

“Rohne wants to take me out in his boat later,” Omega said. “If that’s okay with you . . .”

“I’ll have her home by eight,” Rohne promised.

“Well . . .” Hunter looked at their hopeful faces, then decided it wouldn’t hurt. Rohne seemed like a nice young man. He suspected the kid would keep his word. “You’ll have her back by eight on the dot?” he said, and Rohne nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Just do one thing for me and stay for dinner. I’d like to get to know you better, son.”

“That sounds just fine, sir,” Rohne agreed. He and Omega smiled at one another.

“We’re going to go study now,” Omega told Hunter. “We’ve got a big test tomorrow.”

She hurried off to her room with Rohne close on her heels.

Hunter just stood there for a moment, thinking he’d overreacted. Omega had good judgment. If she liked Rohne, it was because he was kind and courteous, and he treated her well. That was all that mattered to Hunter.

“Don’t worry, boss,” Wrecker said suddenly. “I’ll have my eye on ‘em the whole time. That boat won’t get out of my sights.”

“I’m not worried,” Hunter said, meaning it. “We’re forgetting that each of us has taught Omega valuable combat skills. If Rohne steps out of line, I suspect she’ll handle him just fine on her own.”

“Yeah! I bet she’ll kick him right in the—“

“Shhh!” Crosshair hissed, covering Racer’s ears. “Not in front of the baby.”

“Right,” Wrecker said. “Sorry.”

Racer lifted his head from Crosshair’s shoulder and smiled. “Kriff,” he said.

“We’ve got to teach him to say something else,” Hunter decided. “Hey, kid, can you say mama?”

Racer stared at him and blinked his big, brown eyes. Hunter had a feeling the baby understood the task, he was just being very selective about participating. It had to be on his terms.

“Say mama,” Crosshair encouraged.

The front door slid open and in walked Echo, looking dour as usual.

Racer pointed a finger at him. “Mama!” he cried.

Echo startled. “What?”

Hunter sighed. “Well, at least he’s not saying kriff anymore.”

[addisonstars]

"i haven't stopped loving you once"

also written for day 25 of november for @wolfstarmicrofic with the prompt "fireplace"

501 words

Sirius and James were inseparable, even after the both of them being long married to the other love of their lives and living hundreds of miles apart for many years. They were best friends with an inseparable bond between them that nothing, nothing, could come between. 

James and Regulus had finally moved back to London after living in Amsterdam for a few years before they decided that London was where home was. They had a housewarming party many hours ago, with the gang all back. Most everyone had left around an hour ago, but the four of them- Sirius and Remus, along with Regulus and James- were left. 

They were reminiscing on their “good ol’ days” in Hogwarts, where they were just a bunch of horny little boys that had stupid little crushes on their to-be future husbands. 

Sitting around the fireplace, James laughed, the sound deep and filled with heart. “No, no, you can’t say anything about my pining over Reggie when you came to me one day saying, ‘I want to be broken.’” He grins wickedly at Sirius before continuing. “And, I was like, lad, you already are.” 

Sirius laughs, “that’s right, I had torn my ACL earlier that month during our quidditch match.” He nods. 

“So anyways I go: Physically? Mate you already are.” Remus chuckles, because he's pretty sure he knows where this is going. Sirius shakes his head, a little embarrassed for this to get out, but what are friends for if not to embarrass you?

Taking a sip of his firewhiskey, James continues his story. “Sirius laughs after I say that, but he makes a grave face as he says completely serious that he would rather be broken, like, mentally, you know broken apart and then put back together.” 

“By Remus of course,” Sirius tacks on, leaning to his left and kissing Remus chastely. Remus’s face goes all red. Regulus adds in, nodding, as if agreeing that he wouldn't have minded that either. 

“Anyways, he’s like, ‘I want someone to degrade me’ and at the same time ‘I want someone to call me a good boy,” James takes another sip, “I stood there, all like “Ok mate. I shrugged, not knowing what to say to him because I felt the same way. I ended up agreeing with him, because Merlin, what I wouldn't have done back then for Reg to take me apart.” 

Sirius makes a face, but they all laugh, because they know that the little Black brother was a hot commodity at Hogwarts. Lucky James for being the winner of the prize. 

Sirius laughs at his former self, wondering what his past self would have done if he knew that it would have happened and more in his years to come. Remus leans over and whispers in his ear in that sultry voice of his. “Well, I’m sure you're very happy with yourself for making that wish come true.” 

He smiles warmly, “I am Moons,” he looks into his lover's eyes, “I am.” 

this fic is dedicated to and written for, the james to my sirius, the sun to my stars, caylen <3

-a.s.