#maybe it would be season 3 if not for the slow first half

[cloudsinsummertime]

I’ve been rewatching Hannibal and of course season one is fantastic but I’d forgotten how season two is just that much better.

[ferrstappen]

what happens with the kids? l Max Verstappen x reader

a/n: *sigh* I'm so done with this season bc I just know we'll be getting the same podium every other career and my tifosi dreams are just crumbling... also can we please just talk about that driver introduction like?????

anyway, this is based on this request I got the other day! thank you for requesting and sorry it takes me so long write the requests, but uni is kicking my ass <3

genre: angst oop

pairing: Max Verstappen x female reader. Lando Norris x reader but not serious.

warnings: divorce, kids, not proofread.

summary: Max really didn't have to find a girlfriend that soon after the divorce, and the fact that his girlfriend had a daughter of her own, didn't really help your case.

It's safe to say you never really saw it coming. or maybe you did, but tried to ignore it as Mila and Luca had just celebrated their third birthday, with the second half of the season looming over your household, Max said the the words you never thought you'd hear.

I think we need some time apart to figure out some stuff.

At first you didn't really process it. Why would you possible need time apart? The twins were so young, you needed all the help you could get and things were good.

That's what you thought.

He said it was hard to continue your marriage if you couldn't keep him company or support him the way you used to, before having kids. Maybe he was oblivious to the disbelief showing on your features, trying to comprehend if he really needed to be reminded of your two young children, who had strict hours. You didn't feel the need to remind him that just three weeks ago Mila had to go to the emergency room for an allergic reaction, and a week before that, Luca was questioning you about why his dad wasn't around as much.

Max rubbed his left hand on the nape of his neck, obviously trying to ignore this part of the conversation, seeing as you eyes became teary and your eyes tried to find his blue ones, but he avoided them at all costs.

Then, it was time to bring the kids to a race, Austria to be specific. It was strange to walk without him on the so familiar space, holding Luca and Mila's hands, making your way to the Red Bull hospitality where Max was supposedly waiting for his family.

During the walk, you were greeted by most people from every team; engineers fist bumping the twins, Lando and Max Fewtrell giving you a side hug before trying to talk with Luca and Mila. Yet, when you reached your finishing point, Christian Horner's eyes opened widely, like his mind was trying to process something.

The Red Bull team principal was clearly distressed as he walked towards the three of you, greeting you as usual, but offering to take the twins for a quick tour, telling you there was a new snack bar the engineers had created and they should get to know it.

It didn't take long to realize the brit knew something you didn't.

A feeling you couldn't explain sank on your stomach. Your cheeks were already flushed, palms turned sweaty and suddenly your subconscious was trying to convince yourself that it couldn't be that bad, whatever it was. The world shook and your vision slowed down when you noticed a gorgeous black-haired woman, leaning against your husband as he laughed at something she said.

Your trembling legs managed to silently take a step back, trying to hold back the tears as you left the room, watching as Christian was still entertaining the twins, following you as the kids noticed you.

"Christian, can you please call Max to tell him we're here?" Somehow, with some divine strength, you were able to get the words out, ignoring Christian's glare as if he was trying to ask if you were okay.

In a matter of seconds, Max had joined you, receiving Mila and Luca with open arms. He wasn't aware of the fact that you already knew the reason he wanted a time off wasn't because he didn't get to see you, or that you couldn't make the effort to travel with the kids.

No.

Just as Christian had suggested, the kids went with him as Max directed your way to a secluded space. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it sure wasn't "I want a divorce"

He blinked. Once. Twice. "What do you mean you want a divorce?"

A snicker left your lips, was he trying to play dumb? You knew Max Verstappen as the palm of your hand. You knew him better than yourself.

You didn't need to see him kissing the black-haired woman, or holding hands, or even touching her.

Max's eyes, your husband's eyes, expressed everything you needed to know.

It wasn't important that he berated you for dropping this news right before Red Bull's home race, that his eyes tried to find yours but were unable to, as your crossed your arms as if that would protect you from the heartbreak and sudden change of plans; from a happy couple, a merry marriage and joyous family, to a life of weekends separated, of preparing their bags on Friday night, of being civil for the sake of the twins during their birthday...

And because you knew him so well, the relief that flashed through his blue eyes didn't pass unnoticed by you, because it wasn't him who said the words. He was guilty, but he didn't take the shot.

Your girlfriends always joked about his friends always were the first ones to reach out after a break up, making you laugh until text messages and Instagram DMs started rolling in: Red Bull engineers and mechanics, Lando Norris, Martin Garrix, among others.

Hey! I heard about you and Max, just wondering if you are okay and want to meet up some time?

It didn't take long to accept one of their offers, having messy nights with a British driver and multiple people from the paddock, but it was never meant to be more. and it absolutely wasn't, but it was early Sunday when the concierge called to inform the arrival of Max and the twins. Of course you didn't hear, Lando's body pressed against you as his soft snores invaded the bed you once shared with Max.

and obviously, Max being as restless as always, decided to just take the direct elevator to the penthouse overlooking Monte-Carlo. That's what made Lando open his eyes, very widely, as you hastily walked him towards the walk-in closet so that he could get dressed and not be seen or heard by Max.

Not that it mattered, but you were capable of putting family peace in front o making your ex-husband jealous.

"Hello my sweets!" Mila and Luca made their way into your arms, not caring about their backpacks making things a bit uncomfortable. "Did you have a good weekend?"

Luca started blabbering about papa's new place, the dishes Max's girlfriend cooked for them, and the incredible time they both had with Sara, the daughter of Max's girlfriend. There obviously was a bond between the three children, both arguing about how Sara liked them more than the other.

Max hadn't had the time to greet you or ask about your weekend, his gaze fixing on an orange hat.

"Since when do you own McLaren merch?" Max questioned you, pointing the foreign object, the logo being unusual on the household.

Ignoring how your heart skipped a beat, feigning ignorance your body turned to where Max's finger was pointing. "Oh, I don't know? I think someone gave it to me at one of the races. Long time ago, though."

That's when both Max and you noticed the twins were gone, probably on their bedroom unpacking or searching the kitchen.

Max took a couple of breaths, his eyebrows scrunched and eyes trying to find yours, not even attempting to hide his feelings. "Are you hooking up with someone from McLaren, (Y/N)?"

Your eyes widened, then took a step back trying to see if you heard him right. "Why would you even ask me that?"

Max shrugged; "I have a right to know, in case they end up sharing time with M and Luca. I can't control how everything works during the week so I'd like to be kept in the loop."

This time it struck like lightning, the fury and anger and disillusion your heart was carrying. "You have no right, Max. Absolutely no fucking right to be kept in the loop about what goes on in my life,"

Max didn't flinch at your tone, "I didn't say about your life, I'm aware that we are divorced, I'm talking about Mila and Luca,”

"I always think of them, they're the first thing on my mind when I wake up, and the last thing when I go to sleep. They're always on my mind and never leave, and I would never do anything to hurt them or even cause them the tiniest bit of disappointment. You have no right to come here and tell me you want to know about what goes on in here, because you are the one who chose to leave us in the first place," You vented, with Max's blue eyes fixed on you he was trying to keep his composure, but you knew he was uncomfortable.

"We are not having this conversation now, (Y/N). It's over, now it's just about the kids," Max added with a slight roll of his eyes.

"When are we having this conversation, then? When are you going to tell me that you wanted to separate because there was someone else already? that I wasn't enough for you? not even our kids were enough to make you doubt your decision to leave me, and it feels terrible and I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to feel the same because I'm shattered, Max." The words felt like someone was ripping your heart out of your chest, leaving you vulnerable as the thoughts became real, they were out there, but then it was followed by a bittersweet relief of not holding back anymore.

He noticed the tears and hiccups as you tried to make the point. His eyelids trembled as his hands meant to reach out to yours, pull your body to his, squeeze your waist and kiss your hair while assuring everything was going to be just fine.

That was the moment he realized that wasn't his place anymore, probably would never be again. Max didn't even think about that while signing the divorce papers, he didn't bother to show up to anything, sending a lawyer to do whatever was needed, and now it was hitting him like a ton of bricks.

His realization was cut short as the kids came running, Luca placing the McLaren hat on his head, ignoring Mila's voice telling him it wasn't daddy's team.

"I think this is when you leave, Max,"

You managed to keep your voice from quavering and erasing every trace of a tear, telling the kids to say goodbye to Max.

Yeah, this wasn't what Max had in mind for his Sunday morning.

[agoodomenssideblogiguess]

What if Aziraphale wasn't on earth between 1941 and 1967?

What if, the same way Crowley was brought back to Hell in 1827 Aziraphale was recalled to Heaven in 1941?

Hear me out: Aziraphale has been making slow but steady progress within his character arc right? In 1941 at the end of the night, sharing drinks with Crowley in the bookshop, Aziraphale was willing to accept that things are not always black and white and sometimes there is room for shades of grey (albeit very light grey). Compare this to his thinking concerning Elspeth. Aziraphale kept flip flopping back and forth over whether Elspeth's actions were good or bad. He didn't seem to consider her actions were ethically complicated. In his mind they could either be good or bad depending on whatever information came to light in the moment.

It also seems that after the church, the magic trick, and the shades of grey discussion, Crowley and Aziraphale are back on good terms with one another. At the very least, talking and willing to spend time together again. Other than the mention of how easily accessible the holy water is in the church, Crowley doesn't seem to mention or allude to his request again. However, in 1967, it feels like their interactions are strained again. Aside from the awkwardness and tension in their conversation, it's also strange that Crowley is surprised to see Aziraphale in the Bentley (despite being PARKED IN FRONT OF THE BOOKSHOP) and that Aziraphale is only aware of what Crowley is up to through second-hand means “I work in Soho, I hear things." (You don't need to 'hear things' when Crowley is conducting those things IN FRONT OF THE BOOKSHOP)

So what happened? My theory: Aziraphale has been serving out a punishment in Heaven since 1941.

Fandom consensus seems to be that there is a 1941 pt. 3 coming next season and many are hoping for a kiss or something undeniably romantic (I am too ngl). But what if it's actually a scene where Aziraphale gets dragged back up to heaven?

Shax said that 80-90 years ago was the first time that she heard about Crowley and Aziraphale being an item. We can assume that this 80-90 years ago was during Furfur’s failed evidence presentation to Dagon and F(r)iends.

A lot of demons were hanging around in that scene. It wouldn’t surprise me if one of them (or Shax herself) got in touch with an angel in Heaven and let them know about the rumor downstairs of Crowley working with an angel on Earth.

Obviously, Heaven can’t allow that, and who else could it be other than Aziraphale? He’s the only angel down there, so they recall him. Without evidence though, and given that (1) it's a demon's word against an angel's; (2) less than a century and a half ago, Gabriel awarded Aziraphale a medal for his work on earth (bookstore opening cut scene); and (3) as far as we know, Aziraphale hasn’t had any major offenses other than frivolous use of miracles, I don’t think Heaven can really do much. That doesn’t mean they don’t do anything, I just don’t think they do anything like use hellfire on him or make him fall.

Despite the lack of evidence, Heaven still has to make an example out of Aziraphale for getting caught working with a demon. I think whatever punishment Heaven doles out, keeps Aziraphale up in Heaven for a long time.

(Small tangent: If it can be traced back to one event rather than a slow progression over millenia, this rumor is also probably what makes all the archangels be so cruel to Aziraphale (or at least finally gives them permission to act on what they’ve been wanting to do for ages). Maybe this is when they start looking into Aziraphale’s past endeavors and notice Crowley everywhere.)

It could be worse, if there had been evidence, it would have been worse. Still (Aziraphale might think), this is Heaven, 'the side of good', they wouldn't take it too far. He probably received a trial before his punishment began. And yeah the trial is more for show than anything else, but it's not like Hell would have bothered with any of that. Hell would probably delve right into whatever torture they'd decided for punishment. His time spent in Heaven, no matter how intense the punishment, would have been a breeze to tolerate compared to what Hell would do to Crowley. Speaking of which...

By the time Heaven lets Aziraphale back down to Earth, I think he would be a mess of mindless worry. He had just come to terms with his feelings for Crowley after all. Maybe this is why Aziraphale decides to give Crowley the holy water after all. He's had more than enough time in Heaven to realize that as much as he wants to protect Crowley and keep him safe, all that intent means nothing if he's stuck in Heaven because of his own carelessness. In Aziraphale's absence (or destruction), holy water could keep Crowley safe, at least from Hell, even if it is dangerous. Once Aziraphale is back on Earth, when he hears what Crowley was plotting, it probably further cements his decision to give it to him.

If Aziraphale got taken up to Heaven right after the magic show, he probably has no idea if his palming of the polaroid worked for sure. The bookshop is a safe place for Crowley to be away from Hell, but how long will that last? Is it still an embassy with Aziraphale up here in heaven? Is Crowley defenseless against the other demons down there? Did Hell come for Crowley after all even without evidence?

So how long is Aziraphale gone for? We already know that after Crowley got sent back to hell in 1827 and Aziraphale didn’t see him again for “a very long time.” The next meeting we, as an audience, see between them is the holy water request in 1862. So at worst, Crowley's been in Hell for ~30 years. Heaven probably would have taken Aziraphale back for a similar amount of time. And wow look at that, 26 years ago by between 1941 and 1967.

There’s enough ambiguity in the set and dialogue to allow for this length of absence as well. I already wrote a post about how ridiculous Aziraphale is for saying 'I work in Soho I hear things' in 1967 when the whole scene takes place outside the bookshop and how equally ridiculous Crowley is for seeming to think Aziraphale wouldn't notice him prancing around the block plotting to steal from a church. But maybe Crowley conducting his holy water heist business all over Aziraphale's corner of Soho is because as far as he knows Aziraphale isn't around anymore. In my post, I point out that the bookshop is blocked off by the "Striptease" and "Love Shop Cinema" signs but that you can tell it’s the bookshop because of its pillars.

I admitted that it was weird to cover up half the windows, but didn't really have any diegetic explanation for it. Maybe the explanation is that Aziraphale’s bookshop has been abandoned for years. In which case, I think Crowley might be hanging around Soho caring for it and the books, making sure it doesn't get vandalized, protecting it from snooping humans, etc. (tangent: this could also be why Aziraphale says that the bookshop is both of theirs. Maybe the "plenty of use" he said Crowley got out of it was while Aziraphale was away. Maybe Crowley used it as a pseudo base of operations.)

Aziraphale being gone would also explain why, suddenly, 105 years after his initial request, Crowley is plotting to steal holy water from a church. Aziraphale has been gone a long enough time that Crowley is starting to get antsy. Maybe he’s starting to think that Aziraphale is gone for good (not dead, he is an OPTIMIST DAMMIT). I think Crowley is spurred to start the holy water heist because he thinks Aziraphale isn’t going to be assigned to earth any more and whoever they're sending down next is going to be more of a smitey kind of angel. And if Aziraphale isn’t around anymore, then the demon-proof-except-for-Crowley-bookshop/embassy is also likely not going to stop any demons from getting to Crowley whenever they want. If Aziraphale is really not coming back, then Crowley is alone again, on his own side, for the first time since they saved Job's kids. He's gonna really need that insurance now more than ever and unfortunately, he has no one else to rely on. He’s gonna have to procure it himself, even if it’s dangerous and dumb.

Aziraphale's absence (as much as I am loathe to let go of the theory that Aziraphale and Crowley are just being incredibly dramatic idiots) can also explain some of the dialogue from the 1967 scene.

“What are you doing here?” might seem a silly thing to say when Crowley is parked outside of the bookshop, but makes sense if he's reacting to seeing Aziraphale for the first time in years, so damn close it can’t be a dream, right inside the Bentley.

“I work in Soho, I hear things,” is not just a way to give the audience exposition that Crowley wouldn’t need but a way for Aziraphale to explain why he’s there.

The barely concealed desperation in Crowley's voice when wanting to give Aziraphale a lift home (despite being LITERALLY OUTSIDE THE BOOKSHOP), or to take him anywhere he wants, makes a little more sense if he hasn’t seen him in years, wants to catch up, and doesn’t even know where Aziraphale would be staying if not the bookshop.

If this theory is true and Aziraphale has been absent between 1941 and 1967, it could explain why we don't see the bookshop in the 1967 scene even though everything else in the scene points to it taking place on that corner, it would give Aziraphale a reason for deciding to give Crowley the holy water after all even though hes been stubbornly opposed to it for more than a century, and it could also explain why even though he was making a lot of progress character wise to, it felt like he was regressing again.

[tanoraqui]

key elements of Crownless (the Young Aragorn show that lives in my head and heart) season 1:

(Note that I will play a little fast and loose with timelines and for the sake of a better story. And/or take ruthless advantage of canonical slow Dúnedain aging to spread the timeline out over several decades)

First episode(s) is Aragorn (age 21, functionally late teens) leaving Rivendell to start wandering the wilds with the Rangers. I would do Elrond & his people dirty and say that Aragorn has been kinda sheltered growing up, a little because Elves tend to baby Men, especially young Men, and mostly because everyone wanted to be sure Isildur’s heir was safe as darkness grew in the world, especially after his father was killed when he was 2.

So Aragorn starts with significant book smarts, homely peace smarts—historical knowledge, animal friendship, herblore, diplomacy skills, technical sword/knife/bow skills…but he doesn’t know the dirty fighting tricks that win a fight. His tracking, hunting, forest stealth, etc. skills…suck at first. He’s prone to freeze in urgent healing (or combat) situations, because he’s never done this on his own before—though he has a natural talent for the ‘calling people back from death’ thing we see in LotR.

(This gives Aragorn obvious skills to pick up that demonstrate his character growth as a leader, while also establishing from the start that his real talent in kingship is, always was, diplomacy, strength of character & connection with his people, literal and metaphorical healing. Also, weirdass plans, often based on things he read, with success resting on luck/prayer/hope more than any reasonable thing…including a willingness to trust strange new and/or sketchy people…and they work.)

Maybe eps 1-2 is a double-length episode: opens with newly widowed Gilraen arriving in distress with a toddler 18 years ago, then first half is mostly restless late teen!Estel in Rivendell, ending with Elrond revealing his true name, broken sword, time to go forth… Smash cut to Aragorn tripping in the forest and falling in a stream while 2 other baby Rangers laugh at him and whoever’s stuck training these new recruits sighs heavily. There’s a lot of “this is the new Chieftain of the Dúnedain, Isildur’s heir?”

Format: 22ep 44min monster of the week (like GOD INTENDED) focused on the newest young Rangers: Aragorn, Halbarad, Dúnawen (OC: “maiden of the west”, don’t @ me for naming), as they range throughout Eriador learning how to be badasses guarding the boundaries of civilization. Monsters include orcs, wargs, mortal bandits, trolls, giant spiders, a small ice wyvern that made its way to northern Dale, barrow-wrights, unhoused fëa, rival clans of Men or maybe Dwarves who are about to go to blood feud war…

…and a slowly mounting season plot of the trouble of 3 Nazgúl reoccupying Dol Goldur, after the White Council forced the “Necromancer” out 15ish years ago. (Riling up ghosts throughout the countryside? Something something themes of moving on from the past. Also, can’t go wrong with an episode in which heroes must confront their literal personal ghosts.)

Repeat cameos from Elrohir & Elladan, cousins of all Mannish Dúnedain (and kind of older brothers to Aragorn in particular.) Are they helping him? Are they harder on him than on the other new recruits? Are they good cop/bad cop-ing it?

Arwen! Meet briefly ep1 and/or she’s a key feature of midseason finale; return in season finale to be badass. “Tinúviel! Tinúviel!” scene in Lothlórien casts a hiccup in a fledgling romance between Aragorn and Dúnawen

All combinations of Aragorn/Halbarad/Dunawen ARE welcome, nay, encouraged. They’re functionally in college and they’re all hot, and constantly in near-death situations. I advise the writers to have fun. Bisexuality is free.

Gandalf introduction early, ep2? Probably also in finale (something of a large team-up).

Late season bottle episode, maybe just before a 2-parter finale, in which due to a thunderstorm/mudslide/cave-in incident, Aragorn, Halbarad and Dunawen are trapped in a cave/small series of caves with a random assortment of other travelers on the road west of Bree: a pair of Dwarvish merchants, a few men, 1 elf (journeying to the Havens to Sail?), and 1 hobbit, Mr. Drogo Baggins of Hobbiton, who was making a perilous journey to Bree and back in order to fetch his beloved, very pregnant wife a particular kind of cheese she was craving. No loss of air threat, but they’re stuck. Obviously getting Drogo home is of utmost importance (and everyone else needs to get home safe, too). Tempers run high! Only once the Junior Rangers sort out their late-season interpersonal drama can Aragorn rise to the occasion and organize/mediate this microcosm of Middle Earth’s populace to dig their way out of this cave.

Aragorn is exceptionally good at facing down Nazgúl and their weaponized despair because he has—indeed, he is, by name!—hope. This show is about hope first and teamwork second, and looking badass in a beautiful landscape while Howard Shore music swells third.

[s2 in notes]

[theharddeck]

talk with my hands, maybe take it real slow (jake seresin x fem!reader)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: Jake's roommate has a new tattoo and can't stop itching at it...what kind of friend would he be, if he didn't help distract her?

Warnings: this fic is 18+, minors please DNI – we go pretty quickly into smut, featuring the usual--explicit oral sex (both receiving, bc we're feminists like that), and then also PiV sex, including but not limited to, condescension, overstimulation (bc what's the point of fiction if we're not wringing multiple orgasms out of our self insert?) and creampies (do not have unprotected, unnegotiated sex pls)

Length: 7.8k

A/N: sorry about the moodboard being lacluster; I couldn't find a tattoo pic that wasn't on a size 0 thigh or white, so we went without

You hadn’t considered yourself to be a person with particularly awful self control, but then again, you’d never had a tattoo healing on your inner thigh, driving you mad with the need to scratch at it. It’d been 3 weeks since the appointment and your ink was probably 95% healed; the redness had faded entirely and a couple raised patches of roughness were all you had to show for the fact that it was new. Which somehow made the incessant need to itch all the more frustrating, because you were pretty sure it was mostly phantom at this point. 

“Listen, honey, you gotta chill.” Jake’s voice interrupted your inner monologue, from his seat on the couch across the living room. 

Your roommate had started in hard on the Southern pet names when he’d seen that they’d flustered you. Honestly, there was precious little the man wouldn’t do, if it meant making you unnerved. You two didn’t have what you’d call a friendship, but the playful Something between the two of you felt safe and fun. Even if it did mean that Jake seemed to take a little more pleasure than he should’ve, in the face of your pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you replied drily, “are the literal thousands of abrasions on my skin irritating you?”

Jake rolled his eyes at your melodrama. “I can feel you thinking from over here, and it’s taking up real estate that belongs to Maya Hawke,” he gestured to the TV where the latest season of Stranger Things was playing.  

“It itches,” you mumbled, hearing the complaint in your voice and knowing it was pathetic, but too over it to care. 

Jake cut you a long look, like he also heard it, and was embarrassed for you. “Want me to get you some ice?” he asked, and it was sweet of him to offer, but…

“We’re out of ice,” you sighed. “I went through the last two trays in, like, record time, and they’re refreezing now.”

“We have like fourteen trays,” Jake frowned.

“Yeah, well someone,” you paused meaningfully, “drastically depleted our resources when he decided to have a bourbon tasting over the weekend.”

Jake had the grace to look guilty for a  moment. Then it was his turn to sigh dramatically, lifting his arm to the back of the couch and swatting at the cushion next to him. “Alright, kid, c’mere.”

In retrospect, you probably should’ve asked why, or at least deliberated for half a second before doing what he asked. In reality, you pushed off the settee you’d been lounging on, and flopped ungracefully onto the couch next to Jake. You shared a bathroom with the man and he’d seen you on the second day of your period; dignity was a distant memory. 

Still, it didn’t prepare you for Jake pulling your legs apart with one of his large hands, and spreading his fingers over your tattoo, all while calmly turning up the volume of the TV with the remote in his other hand. 

“Jesus, Jake,” you choked out, telling yourself the goosebumps erupting over your whole body were entirely because of your surprise, and not any other reason. “Buy a girl a drink first.”

Jake chuckled, somehow managing to shake his head at you while not looking away from the TV. “You’re the one who’s always telling me my hands are cold as ice.”

Had you said that?

It sounded like something you’d say.

But Jake’s hand on your leg felt anything but cold. Okay, no, if you separated your brain from—well, from anything—you could recognize that his fingers were quite cold, and it was incredibly soothing having them over you. His thumb was brushing lightly over your skin, while the rest of his hand stayed still, and you knew that ice cubes couldn’t do that, but damn, it would’ve been great if they could. You settled back into the couch, relaxing into the soft material and the relief brought by Jake’s hands.

It was a wonderful two minutes. 

Good to know that that was how long it took for the fourth law of thermodynamics to kick in, and for Jake’s fingers to warm up after extended contact with your skin.  

Then a new problem was presented—you couldn’t scratch at yourself without scratching him. You shifted slightly, to see if you could get any type of friction, but Jake’s touch was light enough that he moved with you. You snuck a glance at Jake’s profile, still fixed on the TV screen, and his expression could best be described as incredibly pleased with himself.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you muttered accusingly.  

“Absolutely,” he said, smugly. “You could fidget up a storm over there, but here you have to just deal with it.”

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from sticking your tongue out at him petulantly. You folded your hands in your lap, determined to ignore the rising propensity to scratch at yourself. At some point, you’d sunken into the couch until your shoulder was pressed against Jake’s arm, and you shifted so your cheek was resting against him too. His tshirt was soft, and he smelled clean, like a freaking linen candle, which was annoying, because it didn’t help clear the riotous tangle of thoughts rushing through your head.

You did stop fidgeting, though.

“Atta girl,” Jake said quietly, his thumb still moving over your thigh.

Was it hot in here?

It had to be hot in here.

Because this was Jake, your roommate, who’d never shown an ounce of interest in you, being calm as anything with his hand literally on your thigh, and saying things that would’ve sounded like come ons from anyone else.

You tried to focus on the TV, and whatever ridiculous shenanigans the children on it had found themselves in, pulling a deep breath through your nose.

(Immediate mistake, because of said linen candle bullshit). 

On the TV, Nancy’s hair got frizzier, Steve’s life got shittier, and all the while your leg was getting itchier and itchier.

You reached to press a hand over the skin distractedly, forgetting momentarily that Jake’s hand was there until you encountered his fingers instead of your skin. He turned his hand over, his knuckles pressing against your skin while his fingers intercepted your own.

“Where’re you going?” he asked, voice lightly mocking, and you wrinkled your nose. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t affected, his hands so close to your burning skin, and he still had the wherewithal to tease you for your poor impulse control.

“Jake,” you whined, trying to untangle your fingers, but his grip was unrelenting, “I’m not gonna scratch, okay, I just need to do something.”

He looked down at you, which you had to admit, was a hell of an experience when your head was practically on his shoulder. 

He blinked slowly, looking at you closely before he opened his hands, letting your fingers go. You pulled your hand back, eyes closing in relief when you pressed them against your skin. It wasn’t as good as scratching, but the pressure helped, and you shifted your fingers—and your nail accidentally dragged against your skin. 

Which was pretty much the worst thing that could happen, because it was like a tease and it shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but you were half a second away from clawing up your thigh when Jake’s hand closed around your wrist again. 

“Seriously?” he asked, amusement coloring his tone. 

“Just let me,” you pleaded, trying to pull your wrist back. “It’ll take like two seconds and then it’ll hurt and I can stop.”

“You could also get infected or mess up the ink placement,” he said, and you stopped pulling for a moment.

“When did you learn so much about tattoo care?” you grumbled, and Jake chuckled again. It sounded different this close to him, deeper. 

“When my roommate decided to mark up the inside of her leg,” he replied easily. “Now don’t you have a lotion or something you can put on this?”

“I do, but it doesn’t help,” you said, annoyed that he was right. 

“Well, let’s at least try it, yeah?” Jake asked, and you rolled your neck, sighing. 

“Fine,” you pushed yourself off the couch. 

You felt Jake’s eyes following you to the bathroom, so you didn’t scratch at your leg, not wanting to hear more of his teasing. You found the jar of lotion, dropping back onto the couch as you unscrewed the lid. 

“It’s just gonna be sticky and leave white marks on the couch,” you groused, looking confusedly over at Jake when he held his hand out. “What?”

“What do you mean, what,” he retorted, like it was obvious. “I’m not gonna let you do this; you have zero impulse control.”

You were too stunned to resist when he plucked the lotion out of your hands, dipping his fingers into the jar. 

Had you said that the worst thing was an accidental nail brush against your tattoo?

That wasn’t true. 

Because the actual worst thing was having to sit there, pretending everything was fine and normal, as your ridiculously hot roommate started spreading Aquaphor on your inner thigh. 

Jake was nothing if not thorough, his long fingers smoothing the cool lotion over your skin, pressing slowly into you and fucking kneading into your thighs, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that he was entirely serious. Gone was the teasing condescension, the knowing look, and in its place was an unfamiliar gentleness. 

Jake’s head was bent, some of his perfect hair falling in front of his eyes, as he properly tended to your leg like he was a nurse and these were doctor’s orders. Like he wanted to be absolutely careful as he looked after you, like looking after you was even something he did. You swallowed, forcing your breathing to remain even. 

This was fine, this was normal. 

This was absolutely not complicating the tenuous relationship the two of you had, and wasn’t causing you to read into the pet names, the caring, the fact that his big hand was literally between your legs. 

He had to stop, or you had to stop, because now was not the time to be thinking risque things about your roommate, not when he was genuinely being sweet and trying to help.

“I think that’s good,” you said, hoping Jake couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice. 

Jake tipped his head to the side, considering his work, then nodded to himself, satisfied. He rubbed his hands together, wiping the excess lotion on the backs of his knuckles, and screwed the lid of the jar back on. You were readjusting on the couch when he leaned across you to leave the jar on the coffee table and when he shifted back, one of you messed up, because his forearm brushed against your chest. 

“Uh, sorry,” Jake said quickly, “I wasn’t—”

He was interrupted, of course.

Because you could tell yourself you were fine, everything was fine, all day long, but turns out that the slightest, accidental brush of Jake against your breasts had an ungodly whimper spilling out of your mouth before you could stop it. 

He froze. 

Shit. 

“Shit,” you said aloud, hands covering your face in embarrassment, “no, I’m sorry, that wasn’t—uh, we can ignore that—I don’t know what’s going on with me, sorry to make it weird, it’s not your fault—”

You stopped babbling when Jake’s hands closed on your wrists, and, for the upteenth time that night, you let yourself be guided by him. When he pulled your hands away, your breath caught at how close he was, and the unfamiliar expression on his face as he looked between your eyes. 

“I need to know right now,” he said, his voice serious as anything, “if you’re apologizing because you’re embarrassed, or because you didn’t mean it.”

You pressed your lips together, not trusting what sounds would come out of your mouth with Jake’s hands holding your wrists, and his eyes this intense. Whatever he read on your face had Jake’s lips parting, a shaking breath drawn in through them, before they thinned in a lazy smile. 

“And here I thought I was the perv, taking any excuse to get my hands on you, darlin’, when you’ve been wanting me just as bad.”

Your jaw dropped at his blunt words, but what, were you going to say he was wrong? 

Jake’s head cocked sideways when you didn’t say anything, and he guided your hands to the back of his neck, before letting go of them. Your fingers wound around his neck, the ends of his hair brushing your thumbs, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something before this—whatever ‘this’ was—went any further.

“Probably worse,” you admitted, not even trying to hide the breathlessness in your voice, “if I’m honest.”

Jake’s eyes darkened and his grin grew wider. “If that’s how honest sounds, I think I want to hear more of it,” he said.

Fuck, he was going to ruin you.

“Kiss me and find out?” you managed, and Jake huffed out a laugh before reaching for you again. His hands settled on your waist and he lifted to drag you towards him. 

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered before his lips crashed into yours. 

You were still reeling from the title, and how you liked the sound of it a little too much, but Jake’s mouth against yours drove that thought from your head. He kissed you like he’d wanted it for longer than you could’ve expected, his teeth biting at your lower lip, his tongue soothing after it. You shifted to help him as he pulled you towards him, both of you gasping when you settled in his lap. You were thankful his flannel pajamas could stand a bit of residual lotion, just as you were thankful for the pressure of his hands on your waist, fingers pressing into you and pulling you closer. Jake licked at the seam of your lips and you opened for him; when his tongue swept into your mouth, you felt it in your core. And suddenly, or maybe not suddenly, maybe finally, after months of build up, you were desperately needy. 

Your fingers pulled through his hair, and Jake’s hips pressed up when you pulled lightly on the strands. At the motion of his rolling hips, your pajama shorts pressed tightly into your core and the friction felt like building, and Jake broke away from your mouth with a gasp. His hands tightened on your waist, holding you still, and while you appreciated his restraint, you wanted to feel him again. 

You whispered his name as he trailed kisses down your neck, and your breath quickened when he found your pulse point under your jaw. Jake hummed, the vibration echoing over your skin, through you, and you realized he was muttering things against your skin. 

“D’you know how hard these last three weeks have been,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed kisses to new goosebumps, “with you always in those tiny shorts, saying it’s because you can’t have tight clothes over your tattoo?”

You felt lightheaded at the idea of Jake wanting you this whole time, maybe longer, locking it away and refusing to act on it because he didn’t know what you felt.    

“It’s true,” you managed, and Jake laughed, a puff of warm air over your skin. 

“And if that wasn’t enough,” another kiss, another soft suck, “you’ve been so whiny, haven’t you? Always pouting, always needy, making me wonder how you’d sound…”

Your eyes were closed, your world distilled to the heat of his mouth, the heat of his words. You pulled at him, needing his mouth over yours again, and Jake obliged. He was so much softer than you expected, gentle but firm, and he tasted so damn good. 

With him distracted, you rolled your hips again, rewarded by the friction over your core, and you could feel Jake hardening in his pajama pants. It was addictive, and you sought him out again, pouting when Jake stilled your hips again. 

“Baby,” he murmured, and heat shot through you at the pet name, not one he’d used jokingly before, “what was the point of the lotion if you’re going to grind it off against my flannels?”

“You can reapply it later,” you rationalized, but Jake shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. His lips were swollen, his cheeks reddened, and you loved the look of him like this, almost dazed. 

“C’mon,” he prompted you, and guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you managed, and Jake’s hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs. You were between his spread knees, and his hands played with the hem of your shorts before he pulled them down your legs, taking care to not scrape them over your tattoo. The air felt cold on your exposed skin, and Jake swore quietly as he dropped the shorts, staring at you in your underwear with something that felt dangerously close to adoration. 

He leaned closer, and at first you thought it was so he could be more gentle with your fragile panties, but then he pressed a kiss to the outside of your thigh and you jumped, pushing him away, embarrassed again. 

“You don’t—” you started, pursing your lips, “um, you don’t have to…do that. We can—”

Jake’s hands smoothed over your thighs, coming around to cup under your ass. Had you said his hands were cold earlier? You were sure they were burning, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched. 

“Nah, baby,” he whispered against your thighs, his nose brushing the soft skin there, as his hands squeezed you, “nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming ‘bout for months.”

Well, fuck, when he put it like that…

“Okay, then,” you said quietly, weaving your hand into his hair again, and Jake flashed a smile up at you. 

“Okay, then,” he echoed, and his fingers pulled your underwear over your hips. He scooted to the front of the couch, a motion that should’ve been cute for his enthusiasm, but instead was simply devastating. He looked so good like this, eager and hungry, and your breath caught when he licked his lips, your hips canting towards him. 

He didn’t look away from you. 

His green eyes locked on yours as he leaned closer, not pausing when his tongue crept past his lips and you were the one to break, your head tipping back when he licked you. His tongue was flat against you, like the first taste of ice cream, and your head spun at the shamelessness of it. You whimpered when he pulled away, and Jake’s breath was warm as he leaned back again. 

“There’s that sound I was after,” he murmured, his soft words a cutting juxtaposition to his filthy tongue. 

He teased you with soft licks, lapping at your arousal that’d only grown since he’d first touched your thighs earlier tonight. His hands snuck around to pull you apart, spread you on his fingers like he needed his tongue closer, tasting you and drinking you. He was unhurried and it was maddening, and you pulled at his tshirt distractedly, needing to feel his skin.  

“Ah, honey,” Jake muttered as he pulled back. “You taste so good, fucking unbelievable.”

You opened your eyes to find his chest heaving, his eyes dilated and your slick smeared across his chin. He looked so good like this, drunk on you, and you imagined you looked nearly as wrecked. He leaned back to pull his tshirt over his head, and your fingers smoothed over broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, as it was bared to you. 

He tossed the shirt aside and a moment later he was leaning back into your cunt, nuzzling your clit with his nose as his tongue lapped at you. Your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, and Jake groaned, the vibrations only increasing the intensity of the feelings flooding you. His strong hands held you up, spread before him, and he lifted his mouth to tease at your clit. You whined when his tongue rolled around you, alternating tight circles and slow, and your eyes rolled back when he closed his lips and sucked. 

“Jake, oh my god,” you gasped, feeling your stomach tighten. It was too soon, you knew it, but you also couldn’t fight it, and it was practically crashing over you—

Jake pulled back. 

You whined in confusion, looking down to find him looking up at you, a familiar expression of smug awareness on his face. He turned his head to press a gentle kiss to your thigh, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. 

“Told you I’ve been waiting on this for months, honey,” he teased, another wet kiss slightly higher on your thigh. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”

Nothing about this felt easy. Not the way he had your body primed for release, every nerve wound tight, not the way you felt it slipping away, and your desperation only climbing. 

You whimpered his name, too gone to be embarrassed by how fucked out you sounded. 

“Aw, baby…” Jake cooed, and you saw his shoulders shift as he repositioned. Before you could anticipate his next move, a broad finger was stroking through your folds, and you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulder to steady yourself. 

“So pretty like this,” Jake soothed, pulling his finger through you, stroking back over you, the pressure perfect, but not enough, “needy. Desperate.”

“Jake, please,” you cried, appalled to find real tears were pushing behind your eyes. After being so close to release, then being denied, then held steady wherever his fingers pulled you, you couldn’t be responsible for the way your body was shaking.

“Bet you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?” Jake said, voice even and unbothered. He added another finger, still not entering you, just teasing over you, languid. “You’re all proud when you’re strutting around in those shorts, cute when you ask for help, but not like this, huh? Like this, you know who’s in charge.”

Any response you had was cut off when he plunged both fingers into you. 

No warning, no easing, just sudden pressure and thickness and your body tightened around the sudden intrusion, unrelenting and unexpected and fucking perfect, and you couldn’t stop your orgasm as it ripped through you.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake groaned, as he recognized your walls tightening around his fingers. “Thatta girl, come on, give it to me.”

You moaned, your core clenching as your denied release rolled over you, scalding and strong and you felt it in your toes. You didn’t know how you were still standing, you knew the sounds pouring out of you were unbridled, and Jake was proudly talking you through it. 

“So beautiful, baby, you’re doing so good,” he said, his other hand stroking up your neck to support your head. You turned your head desperately, pulling his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it, needing to be grounded. 

“Fuck, baby,” Jake moaned, and his fingers kept their pace inside you. You felt the edges of your orgasm soften as he worked you through it, and as the fingers not in your mouth brushed against your cheek, you realized he was wiping away tears. You were shaking, it was perfect, but his fingers inside you were pressing deeper and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to push you higher again. 

“How we doing, honey?” Jake asked, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. He was watching you carefully, and he pulled his thumb from your mouth so you could answer him.

“Good,” you whispered, through the clearing haze, “really, really, good.”

Jake hummed, tilting his head as he considered you. His fingers scissored inside of you, and you clenched down on him, hands grasping his shoulders. 

“Then I think you should give me another,” he said, smile growing as your eyes widened. 

“Jake, wait—” you protested, but you went without opposition when he pulled you back to the couch. His fingers paused their exploration but he didn’t pull out of you as he guided you onto your back, propping your knees up carefully. 

“Have to be gentle with that thigh,” he said, his voice growing husky as he settled between your legs. He stroked his fingers again, and your core clamped down on them, still not fully returned from your first high. Any other protest you had died when he bent down again, his mouth returning to your cunt. 

You’d had his tongue, you’d had his fingers, and they’d made you cum like you hadn’t in months. And now suddenly you had both at once, and you were pretty sure it was going to cost you your mind. 

“Jake, fuck,” you keened, your back arching off the couch.

Jake didn’t respond, too busy lapping up your release and thrusting into you. His tongue traced a maddening pattern over your clit as his fingers pressed deeper into you, stretching you.  

“You taste even sweeter like this, baby,” he mumbled into you, and you moaned as you felt his words. His fingers brushed something deep inside of you and you couldn’t breathe; you reached for Jake’s hair, pulling desperately, hoping he could read how impossibly taut you were. 

“You know something,” he mused, like it was the calmest thing in the world, “you came so quick, didn’t you? Came once you had something fucking you, and it was so beautiful, honey…but I never got to hear you beg.” 

“Jake,” you whispered, his name the only word you could manage, the only thing you could say with his fingers brushing that spot and his mouth just a breath away from you. 

“Nah,” he said, his voice low, “I know you could do it so prettily. Won’t you do it for me, sweetheart, won’t you let me hear it? Let me make you cum again?”

He kissed you again, his mouth light and teasing, brushing caresses over your mound but not where you were aching, throbbing, for him. His fingers slowed, torturously, pushing you closer but not fast enough, and you felt your eyes filling again. What was he asking for?

What was anything, what did he need?

“Jake, please,” you gasped, your voice thick. “Please, please—”

“Please what, baby?” Jake asked, another soft kiss. “What do you need?”

“I need to cum,” you practically sobbed. “Please, need it so bad, please, Jake—need you so bad, need you to—”

“That’s right,” Jake practically growled, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. “You need me. And I’ve got you, honey, so you can let you go, since you asked so nicely, and I’m gonna take care of you…”

His forearm was banded across your waist, holding you still as his fingers found that spot inside of you, pressed up against it, and your thighs shook as your second orgasm bowled over you. Jake’s tongue was over your clit, then his lips closed, and when you thought you might be ready to let go of the high, he sucked, and you fully shattered. You could feel your nails raking into his back, feel his responding groans through the mouth still pressed to your cunt, as your world dissolved into white heat. It swept over you and you stopped trying to ride it, just let yourself be thrown, buffeted by Jake’s mouth, Jake’s fingers, Jake’s soft words.  

“Fucking gorgeous, baby, you did so good,” Jake was murmuring into the skin of your stomach. His fingers were still inside of you, gently rocking but no longer trying to stimulate you. It would’ve brought tears to your eyes, if they weren’t already streaming, how tender he was being with you. The whiplash was incredible—how quickly he’d brought you to orgasm, how easily he’d denied you, how thoroughly fucked out you were, now that he’d given it to you. 

God, and you hadn’t even had him yet. 

“Jake,” you croaked, your throat hoarse, and he lifted his head to look up at you. 

“What is it, honey?” he asked, voice soft. He was propped up on his elbows, and he shifted slightly, pulling his fingers out of you. You pressed your lips together to stop a whimper from escaping and trying to ignore how empty you felt, and watching quietly as he wiped his hands absently on his pajama pants before looking back up at you. 

You lifted a hand to brush away some of his hair that’d fallen into his face. You shifted slightly, pulling the hem of your tshirt down to wipe at his chin, clean him up a little. It was rough, not the intended purpose of the garment, and Jake laughed a little at the clumsiness of the action, pressing his jaw into your cotton-covered hand, to help you as you wiped at his face. 

You bit your lip, more to stop yourself from smiling so wide it made you hurt, looking down at him, propped up on his elbows 

He looked proud. 

He looked content, and it made your heart swell uncomfortably in your chest, that he’d look like that after taking care of you. But the longer you looked at him, something like doubt flickered behind his eyes and he cleared his throat, looking away. 

“If…” he started, and he shook his head, like he was clearing the fog after a night out. “Uh, you know, if that’s too much…or not what you wanted, or something, we can just say it was a distraction. You know, to get your mind off the tattoo.”

You hadn’t thought about the thing in what felt like a lifetime.

More importantly, you saw Jake still wasn’t meeting your eyes, like he expected you to say that that’s all this was, and he was worried you’d see too much if you were looking at him when you said it. It broke your heart, that he would push away his own repressed feelings, if it meant protecting yours. 

Although, to be fair, you’d both been more honest in the last thirty minutes than you’d been in the months before, so it was probably on you, as well as him. 

You carded your fingers through his hair again, waiting.

It took another couple seconds, but Jake steeled himself and looked back at you. 

You hadn’t realized you’d missed the green of them. 

In the height of everything, they’d been hooded and dark, the bright color nearly lost in his blown pupils. But like this, clear and sweet, you thought you might like this better. 

“It wasn’t too much,” you said, simply.

Jake’s shoulders dropped, just slightly, and you saw him wanting to contest it, and so you shook your head. 

“I think that’s a conversation for later,” you said gently, “when we’re both a little more clothed, hmm?”

“Oh,” Jake said, his head turning quickly as he looked around for your pajama shorts. “I can reach—”

You wanted to roll your eyes and you wanted to pinch him, just a little, to get him to listen to you. “That’s not what I meant,” you corrected. “I’m not…I’m not ready to be done. Besides, we han’t gotten you off yet.”

“Oh, that’s okay, that’s not what this was about,” Jake said quickly and you tilted your head, pushing yourself up to sitting. 

Jake was still between your spread knees, your faces close together now, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a quick reassurance before you reached between the two of you. 

Jake jumped when your hand slid over the front of his pajama pants, and you felt like cooing. Even through the thick cotton, you felt him respond to your touch. The fabric had to be adding to the illusion, because he felt enormous under the flannel. 

And it was very gentlemanly that this was for you, that he didn’t want this to be a thing about reciprocity, but in a much more tangible way, he’d made you feel infinite, just a few minutes ago. If you could do the same for him, you imagined you’d probably feel just as proud as he had, to see you come undone.

“What’d you say,” you asked innocently, your fingers trailing up the length of him, “about distracting me?”

When you looked back up at Jake, his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, deliberate, like he was holding his breath. 

Sweet man. 

You leaned back up to kiss him gently, waiting for him to kiss you back. It took only a moment, and you bit back a moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. You kissed him softly for a minute, gentle lips, gentle tastes, coaxing. When you pulled back, Jake’s lashes fluttered before he opened his eyes to look at you. 

“I don’t know,” you lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think I’d be pretty distracted if I were choking on your dick, Jake.”

“Jesus,” Jake whispered, and his hips bucked into your touch. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to–”

You licked your lips, his words from earlier coming back to you. “Nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming about for months.”

Jake surged forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you to him. You tasted his longing in this kiss, the tight reins he held himself in check with, and how desperately he wanted to give them to you, if only for a moment. You wanted that, and maybe for a little longer. So you kissed him for a moment more, then slid off the couch, settling between his knees like before, but this time, he stayed with his back against the back of the couch, and you were on the ground. 

“Wait,” he said, leaning over to grab a pillow, and gesturing for you to use it under your knees.  

Forget rolling your eyes or pinching him, did you want to marry him?

You shook the thought out of your head, settling on the cushion and reaching up to help Jake slide the pajama pants down. He hooked his boxer briefs along with them, and once they slid past his hips, his cock sprang free. 

“Holy fuck, Seresin,” you whispered, looking up at his face. Jake shrugged, a kind of bashful you hadn’t seen him before. One of his hands fisted his cock loosely, like he needed something to do, and you reached up to pry his fingers away. 

No wonder he walked around like he did. 

As you wrapped your hands around him, replacing his fingers, you couldn’t deny a fresh wave of arousal washed over you. His wasn’t the longest dick you’d seen, but he was thick, a dusty rose color that you’d kill for a lipstick match of—which just made you think of why you were waiting so long to get him in your mouth. 

But he’d teased you, and when you glanced up at Jake, his hands clenched at his sides, his stomach tight, you figured he was due for a taste of his own medicine. 

You kissed up his thighs slowly, loving the contrast of wiry hair over smooth skin, and when you got to his cock, you let out a warm breath over the tip. As you watched, a smooth drop of precum appeared at the edge of his cock, and you frowned in mock sympathy, knowing how worked up he must’ve been from finishing you, while denying himself. 

“Bet you’d beg something pretty yourself, Jake,” you teased softly, licking at the drop of moisture and pulling his salty taste back into your mouth. You hummed, immediately salivating for more, but Jake’s hips jerked up as he choked in a breath.

“Darlin’...” he said, his voice low, and you had mercy on him, not needing to hear the words to know how badly he wanted this. 

“Good thing I’m nicer than you, hmm?” you asked, before you licked at him again. 

Jake’s head fell back limply as you tongued his tip, teasing the sensitive head before you licked up the length of him. This was supposed to be for him, but as you were here, you were lost in the exploration of him—the gorgeous weight of him, the musky scent of him, the rich taste, and the sounds he was making. 

You kind of loved how quiet he was being, when it was clearly costing him dearly. 

It meant that when he did burst, it was going to be loud, and you wanted that break. You kissed your way lightly back to his tip, before opening your mouth and pulling him in. 

You’d been joking earlier, about it being distracting, but fuck. The ache to your jaw was immediate, your mouth open as wide as it could to accommodate his thickness. But it felt so good, deeply satisfying, to be able to hold him like this. Warm and thick in your mouth, stretching you—you moaned around him, imagining him filling you. You hollowed your cheeks lightly, sucking, and Jake groaned above you. 

There it was. 

You pushed yourself deeper onto him, holding your breath and fighting your gag reflex, and Jake’s hands shot out to hold the back of your head, his breath a low moan that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. 

You clenched your thighs together, the sound of him and the weight of him had you feeling so empty, while you knew you were physically stretching to your limits. You pulled off of him, a trail of saliva falling from between your lips and his tip, and Jake swore softly at the sight. 

“That mouth, baby,” he groaned, and you felt his thumb trace your lips, smearing your spit across it. You opened your mouth, holding out your tongue and Jake groaned again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.

You felt like he could see straight through you.

That was how it felt, his eyes boring into you as his cock stretched your jaw and his hips pressed slowly deeper. Your nostrils flared and your eyes were streaming again, but you wanted this, wanted him, wanted him to find his release in you, as you had in him. You couldn’t take him all the way down your throat, not now, although you relished the idea of training, so you found a rhythm that seemed to work for both of you. 

Jake’s hips rose slightly to meet you, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, alternating sucking and swirling your tongue over his tip. Your other hands stroked the part of him that you couldn’t fit, squeezing and pulling and you heard Jake’s breathing getting heavier. You were lightheaded, overwhelmed by him, but you couldn’t stop, not for something as simple as air. 

The stretch of him was so good, unrelenting and perfect, and the steadiness with which he held himself in check, it felt like a promise. It made your core ache, throbbing and empty, but you reached up to play with his balls. One of your hands cupped him lightly and then Jake was pulling you off of him. 

You choked at the sudden influx of air as Jake set you back on your thighs, his hands smoothing over your face as he checked you were okay. You couldn’t remember a time you’d felt better, lightheaded and dreamy, but you nodded obediently in answer to the unspoken question, and Jake pulled you to standing. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, but you knew with absolute certainty that you’d follow him.

Mercifully, it was just around the couch, and when you understood his plan, you whimpered slightly, hoping you could take it. You braced your forearms on the armrest of the coach, rocking back on your hips, presenting your ass to him, and Jake was already behind you, covering you. His long arms draped over yours, pressing you into the couch, even as his knee worked between your thighs, spreading your legs. You moaned when you felt his cock slap against your thighs, and one of Jake’s hands fell to between your legs to cup your cunt. 

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, voice somehow both rough and awed. “Is this new? You work yourself up, getting me off?”

You meant to say ‘obviously, asshole’, or ‘as if you didn’t know it’, but what came out was a truly pathetic, “Jake, please…”

He chuckled, his body stretched over yours, and the sound broke off when he guided his cock towards your core. 

“Honey, you’re so wet and warm, fuck. Need to be in you, baby, need to feel this tight cunt—”

“Do it already,” you cried, rewarded by another deep laugh from Jake, and then you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because that thick cock was pushing into you. 

It was a good thing he was holding you up. 

Your body was shaking to accommodate him, already loosened from your orgasms and his fingers, but the stretch still bordered on painful, and you dropped your head to your forearms as he pushed into you. You weren’t doing anything, you were simply there, letting him fuck into you slowly, and you couldn’t think of anywhere better to be. 

“Fuck, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned, and you knew he was trying to go slow, but that didn’t make the stretch any more attainable.

“Need you,” you managed. “Please, Jake, want to be full—”

His hips slammed forward and you cried out as he bottomed out into you. 

You felt impaled, you felt him in your throat, you felt like this was everything you could want and you trembled but held him in you. You felt full, and it was so, so good.  

“Honey,” Jake gritted, “I’ve got to move, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m good,” you whispered, “let me feel you.”

He groaned, another gorgeous iteration of that sound, and when he pulled back, you clawed at the edge of the couch. It was like he was shifting your center of gravity, but the pull was re-orienting. You had no choice but to surrender to it. 

Your whole universe was balanced on the edge of the sofa. 

Jake’s thick cock, stuffing you. Jake’s strong chest, pressed against your back, his arms holding you up, pulling you to him. Jake’s sweat, dripping off of him and onto you, sweet and sticky and heady. The pull and push of him, overwhelming and deep, remaking you. 

You weren’t going to cum from this; it was too much, but it was too good to stop. You’d already had yours, and you could hear how good it was for Jake, could feel it in the tight clench of his hands and the short length of his thrusts. 

Jake groaned, a throaty sound that jolted through you as he pulled you back onto his dick.

“Sweetheart you feel so good…is this what we’ve been missing out on? This tight as fuck cunt, that I can just feel clenching around me? Touch yourself, honey, I need to feel you come again, want to feel you come on my cock.”

You couldn’t be sure if you were crying or babbling, but when Jake told you to play with yourself, you summoned your boneless limbs to do as he asked. 

When your fingers brushed your clit, you immediately pulled back; it was too much. 

“I can’t,” you gasped, hands falling back to brace against the couch. “It’s too much, Jake, I can’t–”

“Poor baby,” Jake gritted, and one of his hands smoothed down your back before dipping around to your stomach and finding his way to your clit. Your knees buckled and your hips jerked away from his hand, but a moment later you were pressing into him, needing the perfect pain of his touch. 

“Honey, you’re doing so good,” Jake’s voice was tight. “God, you feel unreal, clenching down on me like that. Are you gonna cum again? Is this pussy going to cum for me?” 

“Jake,” you sobbed, his name the only prayer you could manage.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothed, his touch gentling, even as his hips sped up. “I’m almost there; I know you are too. Where can I come, honey, where do you want me–”

“Jake,” you moaned, your head thrashing from side to side. It was too much, it wasn’t enough, but you knew you needed him. “In me…please..Jake...”

“Holy fuck,” Jake groaned. “Baby, are you sure I–”

You bucked back into him, the thought of losing his heat and his presence nearly unbearable. “Need you,” you whimpered. “Jake, please–”

“I’m right here,” Jake’s hips pistoned impossibly faster. “Fuck, I’m here, I’ve got you. Shit, honey, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me cum, baby, please–”

He ground his hips deep into you and rolled his fingers over your clit once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out and you felt Jake grunt as he caught you, his hips pounding into you a couple more times and he stilled with another beautiful moan as he pumped his release into you. You felt him, hot and pulsing inside of you, and you wanted to curl up into that feeling forever—warm, full, safe. 

Jake summoned some kind of strength as he turned the both of you, him settling onto the ground and you on his lap, your cunt clenching around him, like you still couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving. You turned into his chest, and Jake wrapped his arms around you, cradling you, somehow knowing how intense that had been and that you needed the warmth of his chest before you could come back down. 

You were shaking, incredibly exhausted but deeply satisfied. And as you drifted back, you became aware of the tangible things around you—Jake’s chest hair prickling your face. Stranger Things still playing, on the TV. The cool air in the room around you, the sticky remains between your thighs. 

You lifted your head to find Jake looking down at you, his expression careful, like he was worried what he’d see. Your eyes closed again, and you managed a smile before you turned your face into his chest again, pressing a kiss to whatever was closest. His hands were locked around your back, but you could feel his thumb brushing over your skin, lightly. And it was wild, that that was what had started this all, and if you’d had the energy for it, you would’ve laughed. 

You could deal with the repercussions later, what this meant for your roommate situation, if your thigh was any worse for wear, any of that. Because that motion, that comforting gesture that Jake didn’t even seem to be aware he was doing—that meant that this was always where you were gonna end up. 

//

tagging: @bradshawsbitch @callsign-fangirl @laracrofted @datemephoenix @mandylove1000 @withahappyrefrain @gigisimsonmars @babyonboardfloyd @blue-aconite @mxgyver @hangmanbrainrot @lt-bradshaw @wildbornsiren @fuckyeahhangman @double-j @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @teacupsandtopgun @thedroneranger

[inchidentally]

https://www.tumblr.com/piastrisms/738775293993549824?source=share

I NEED YOUR ANALYSIS OF THIS VIDEO! PLEASE <3

okay listen this has spun me out into a whOLE thing so let's take another trip down a road I like to call Why is the Non-RPF Real Life Relationship between Oscar and Lando So Endearing and Boyish and Sweet:

so my absolute favorite thing about Lando's face when he's relaxed or in his natural element is how absolutely every. single. emotion. he's feeling is broadcast at equal volume. his vulnerability is a massive part of his charisma. but! he has to have the right habitat! streaming, Youtube, his lifelong friends - those are the right habitat.

F1 is not naturally the right habitat.

when Carlos found Lando on his proverbial driver's doorstep he did not know what to make of him and Lando was barely able to squeak out a few words around anyone new or when a camera was around. but! Carlos trained Lando into how to bounce a dynamic between the two of them just like he'd been doing with his last awkward baby, Max. interestingly Max was much more excitable and eager to please of the two and Lando's intense shyness took a LOT of work to get past. but once Carlos had gotten the drift of Lando's super silly sense of humor it was smooth sailing. and then with Daniel it was even easier because half the time Daniel knew he was expected to carry the conversation. it's interesting because Lando allowed a bit of that old shyness to come back and it definitely disarmed Daniel a bit in a satisfying way. but thanks to those big personalities, Lando found his F1 self and even started to deal back and lead occasionally. of course DTS and a lot of media pilloried him for this because apparently what Carlos and Daniel do naturally is seen as snottish and bratty for him to do. the Youtube/streamer personality where he felt so safe did not at all translate onto other platforms and media.

so it hasn't been smooth sailing for Little Lando Norris to know how to be as a person in F1.

cut to 2023 and with the advent of Oscar we've seen a slow dismantling of Lando's F1 PR personality completely in his content with Oscar over the season. their very first unboxeds Lando was still wearing his guarded PR face and assuming he should lead and carry all the content. it was still sort of around for the Jenga/Garden Games challenges but had started to soften around the Austin filming (including the Finish the Lyrics classics). at some point, Lando truly realized that Oscar would still be fond of him even when Lando was in a terrible, low blood sugar type mood (Tic Tac Toe etc) and oh wow!

their content could really just be Lando being whatever he was feeling that day/that moment and Oscar smiling and finding him funny/cute/fascinating! that was enough! he didn't even know that was allowed! (and maybe it wouldn't have been if Oscar wasn't there to bolster him)

and that's when we started getting unguarded, authentic Lando instead of entertaining Lando. and it's because Oscar was the person next to him representing all of us, trying to tell Lando that we just wanted to see him. we didn't care if he was 'on' or not. he's just an interesting outdoor cat we want to watch go about his life.

which is why we got Lando letting himself sit and stare right back at Oscar like this.

where we can see his expressions do that slow blossoming thing, and right in full view of just Oscar. it's the anti-DTS material because it isn't open to the camera and easy to manipulate. narrative television hates when two people go into quiet, subtle communication because it can't be made into a false dramatic arc. (trust me they'll invent one using chopped up footage and even more chopped up commentary lol they always do but it'll be uphill work)

but when you contrast this with the nonstop, quick back-and-forth Lando has with Carlos and Daniel it's where we pick up on the something that's so unique to Lando with Oscar. it's wrong and making way too big an assumption to say it's a closer friendship bc you can't quantify other people's friendships that way. but it's very, very different to those friendships. and the biggest difference that we on the outside can see is that Lando allows himself to determine exactly How He Will Be. and that might change from one minute to the next! and that doesn't always go down well with most people!

but every time, no matter what, Oscar smiles and laughs and everything Lando does is alright. he gets it. Lando means no harm and he's got a good, warm heart. if he likes you then that won't change just because his mood changes.

like their end of season message. Lando went from doing a great job summarizing his thoughts for the viewers, handed it over to Oscar and just... watched. didn't get bored and stare at the camera or off into space. I actually compiled just how often Lando spends staring openly at Oscar into one long gif lol:

he fully knows he's still on camera but he turns himself into a viewer instead of bouncing around and off of what Oscar is saying. Oscar gave him that, he can give it right back.

and there's no specific Lando-Oscar dynamic like there is Lando-Carlos and Lando-Daniel. hell, Lando's got a dynamic with just about anyone. except! Max F, Martin Garrix (and probably quite a few of his friendships that we're never actually even shown) and Oscar. with those people we see Lando be precisely whatever he's feeling at that moment because they'll either indulge it or enjoy it depending on how good or bad the mood is. if it's Lando, it's all good.

I feel like there's a commonality with those people of being quiet but strong as opposed to the big and bold of most of the F1 drivers on the grid. Max F absolutely has obvious similarities to Oscar (I still love how much he sided with Oscar when he watched the 'most likely to' video). I don't know a lot about Martin but it's literally a DJ's job to be enough apart from the crowd to read it and they set the energy passively through what they spin. Oscar is a fun guy who loves being around the people he cares about but he's never The Guy that it all turns around.

and for their own reasons, they find Lando inherently fascinating and lovable. whereas Lando has to inhabit Carlos', Daniel's, George's, etc etc worlds because they are in themselves The Guy Everyone's Watching just like Lando. Lando has to share. he has to figure it out. but guys like Max F and Oscar do not have the energy or interest in being The Guy. they'd choose privacy over popularity every single time if they were made to. and actually come to think of it, they have actively chosen privacy at the expense of popularity quite a few times.

because let's look at Oscar's face when Lando teasingly brings up Oscar's sprint win:

Oscar gives Lando that genuine, affectionate smile and ducks his head because he wants Lando to know that he appreciates it. in truth, that Sprint win was hailed by wider F1 community as being a massive achievement for a rookie in the Max V era of dominance. they both know that it is. but Oscar didn't posture or show off about it and for that Lando has made sure to bring it up on his behalf time and again. Oscar gave him that, Lando can give it back to him.

which is even sweeter going back to that post race video because Oscar gives Lando that same affectionate, private smile. he's had to throw the video's content over to Lando and Lando gave him that big affectionate smile first because this is how they do these videos. it's always awkward - especially if their results that day weren't great - but they know that together they can do these videos and share a laugh over how absurd it feels sometimes.

and the hint of a private joke between the two of them is there early on and you can just feel Lando relax into it.

and when you skip all the way to their last race media duties and this interview, it truly surprised me how much Lando kept checking in with Oscar - the rookie! -as he was answering. when he found himself giving boring PR answers he threw in a joke that he knew Oscar would crease up over. sure enough it loosened them both up.

and like, that's where the vulnerability and openness comes from now with Lando. he's got a teammate who is basically the same age, who gets him and who actively wants Lando to just be Lando. who clearly threw Lando at first by inadvertently foiling those attempts to establish a dynamic or a bromance. who Lando probably at first thought was just shy and awkward. but Oscar stayed true to who he is and kept that door open for Lando to eventually walk through.

so when it's the two of them, it's everyone else who's on the outside looking in. they're just being themselves. if that doesn't make everyone else feel entertained or happy they honestly don't care - and will probably share a secretive little smile about it.

it's also why they sometimes do that twinning thing and creep everyone out asfgjlaflsgjf

[shinjisdone]

To Soften a Warrior’s Heart (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn; Part 5.1)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors. Though it is more difficult than anyone can could ever imagine…

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet and crawl your way into Thorfinn’s heart (based on season 1; both platonic and romantic)]

Part 1 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 14 and how he is at that age

Part 2 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 16/17 + headcanons of growing closer (slightly following s1 story)

Part 3 is here - blooming friendship with Thorfinn (slightly following s1 story)

Part 4 is here - Thorfinn unwittingly opening his heart as he realizes he does not want you to die

Part 5.2 is here - other sweet thigns Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 6 is here - Becoming Canute's guard while Thorfinn accepts your relationship and bond

Part 7 is here - Canute grieving over Ragnar and Thorkell catching up; Thorfinn leaves you alone for revenge

Part 8 is here - Thorfinn wins against Thorkell; Questioning your bond with Thorfinn

Part 9 is here - Meeting Leif and Thorfinn dueling Askeladd; Losing while Askeladd told him the truth of his constant losses

Part 10 is here - Thorfinn and you bound by heart; Promises of Vinland broken and abandoned

[Mentions of wholesome things now happening between you and Thorfinn in your daily lives as vikings :)

No awful things this time - except potential harrassment of the other bandmates is mentioned. Many female examples in general + gender-neutral ones.]

Also literally had to split my original post in two because tumblr said no 🤡 one more word and youre out

i simply have;;;;;; too much brainrot ughhh too many thoughts

Sweet Things Thorfinn would Do For/With You Now That You Trust Each Other And Get Along And I Have Too Many Thoughts In No Order :)

Just as a heads up:

Never, never ever would Thorfinn ever express his feelings for you verbally, no matter if platonic or romantic. Not a living soul is going to know what's really going on inside of him (not like he even knows what he's really feeling!). Even you could be the one asking him why he's doing what he does and what he feels in his heart but Thorfinn would only scoff and leave you with no answer. If anything, he'd just come up with a light counter question.

The blonde is careful when he handles you. Do not misunderstand, there will be no signs or touches of affections from him. Oh, no, no, no. Thorfinn pushes, drags and pulls whenever and however he pleases. It's just when he does it with you, he keeps reminding himself to be gentle.

Not because he sees you as fragile, injured or not, but because he wants to be gentle with you. He's just not used to it, hence the remembering.

When he pushes you, he does so with half of his strength and because he wants to keep you out of harms way. While others roll down the hill and break their necks, you stumble.

When he drags you, he is, well, dragging you. Maybe you talk for too long, you're distracted or you're being too slow, ya drag. Again, he doesn't haul you by the collar but instead clasps your wrists and leads you elsewhere.

When he pulls, he is first guiding you, then giving you a brief shove into the right direction with his hand on your back. Sometimes he does pull on your hair though to wake you up. The guy is cheeky like that at times, only when you two are alone though and then he has the gall to say with a grin that he just pulled some hay out of your hair (if you have light-colored hair, then he has the excuse that he couldn't just see the hay and...pulled on a handful of locks). And if he doesn't do that, you can bet he pinches your nose long enough to wake you up.

Over time however, there will be not need to remind himself to be gentle. Thorfinn will just become gentle with you. It's like he's learning.

In general he would not think of anything of your gentle or soft touches. Thorfinn takes it that you find his company pleasant too so he wouldn't be surprised if you were kind with the way you are handling him.

However, he might freeze up like a cat that got in contact with water or even have the slightest of blushes on his face (very faint and very rare though!) if you show him any signs of affections or intimacy.

Your grin could rival the sun or you can giggle like a princess and Thorfinn would only smile at the brief joy you can share. It's nothing that flusters him.

However, if you were to tell him how, depsite everything, glad you are that you met him or that even he can be sweet in the same breath, then prepare to meet widened eyes and lips stretched to a line. It's hard to read what he's feeling in situations like these.

Bonus points if you are being affectionate with him. Nothing grand but something akin to gently brushing his hair out of his face when checking for injuries (the sensation of your fingertips gingerly gliding over his skin is foreign), tapping his face when trying to wake him up (your 'Hey, hey!'s that form as warm breaths hit his skin and your own hand is warm on his cheek) or when he drags you away with his grasp on your wrist, your fingers sometimes graze over his palm (You don't seem upset when he does that. It's like you let him know that you are there). All of these little gestures stun him at times...and yes, he might blush. Do NOT ever point it out or you're dead!

Even so, sometimes...just sometimes...if you are being reaaally cautious, you can catch him being affectionate as well.

It's not his fault. Your affection just has infected him.

The young man doesn't even notice. There isn't a change of behaviour or character, it is just a simple action that passes by like a breeze if you blink. When he thinks your joke was lame, he teasingly gives you light shove pat on your noggin (he acts like he's 'punishing' you for that bad joke even if his touch didn't hurt at all). When he cuts your hair or untangles it, he runs his fingers through as a last check-up (or maybe he does it twice, very gently too). When you are too tired or injured he gives you a piggy-back ride if the band has to move on, careful not touch your thighs (in fact he balls his hands up in fists so he can't have his fingers brush you) and adjusting you so you can be comfortable. You can bet he will tell you to hold onto him tightly so you won't and can't fall off. When he wants to wake you up, he nudges his head with yours, right next to his.

Thorfinn doesn't even realize these things can be seen as trusting or intimate. He just...does them. After all this time, why should he be rough with you?

When on baot, both of you have no choice but to share the same sleeping spots with the other men, no matter how much you dislike them. Either you'd wake up before them to enjoy the stillness or sleep in as much as possible until you have to get up. Since neither of you are of any help on the ship (rather Thorfinn refuses to when there is nothing in it for him and for your age you aren't as strong as the others to row).

On land you can bet your camp is faaaaar away from the others. Even when there are not on the battlefield, they are loud, sing, tell each other stories, pillage houses left behind or end up arguing which always leads to a duel. It's not pleasant to be with them so you two prefer each other.

If there are truly no enemies near, both of you feel free to fall asleep...but after that stunt from Askeladd, Thorfinn would always insist on staying up at least a bit before sunrise. It doesn't matter if Askeladd himself comes near, any of them men could be a potential danger (especially if you are a woman).

You wake up and get ready for breakfast. Anything that is edible will do and you both quickly decide who does what. Both of you are okay with whatever task needs to be done, so there isn't much arguing (neither is there in general). You cook, eat, and Thorfinn often trains during the breaks before the band moves on. He refuses to train with you though. On one hand, since he aims to kill, he cannot afford to go easy in general even if it is for sparring. On the other hand, he doesn't want you to get hurt. The blonde doesn't really believe he ever would, even on accident while training, hurt you (the guy is a bit unaware of his strength though...like, he totally could accidentally hurt you. If you told him so, he wouldn't believe you.) - but, as mentioned - Thorfinn does not risk anything when it comes to your safety.

You can best believe he would never admit that though. It's one, if not the only thing he is very much self-aware of - wanting to keep you safe. So if you ever ask why or you insist on training, he will bluntly and briefly tell you no.

If he doesn't train, you check each other's weapons or prepare yourselves while casually chatting. Better be safe than sorry.

If there isn't anywhere to go or anything to do, you'd usually go through your routine or do things that need to be done.

Patching up clothes or repairing weapons near a river while the other one catches some fish for lunch or as provisions. Getting familiar with the area or finding other useful material in the wild (breath of the wild style).

Wether you like or not, both of you have to bathe sooner or later. It gets rid of the stench, of blood, potential infections and diseases. You can't go on sailing the sea when you are this filthy.

I feel like Thorfinn in general is not fond of bathing. He would only do it if he has to, so he probably waits until the day he really, really needs to. When he is stinky and gross. Go ahead and tell him so while covering your nose, he might immediately defend himself but he needs the reality check.

No matter who you are or how close you two might be, I don't believe Thorfinn would want to bathe with you. He'd prefer to do it alone for...no reason really. He is done with it quite quickly too anyway, so he wouldn't need the help or company. It's just not something he'd like to do (yes, he'd find a way to wash his own back if it means he won't have to bathe with you).

He wouldn't want to bathe with you if you are female anyway. So it's not even a question.

In the meantime, he does not mind if you watch his belongings, inlcuding his dagger. The young man wouldn't let his dagger out of his sight for a second but he trusts you to watch it. However, he'd appreciate it if you wouldn't touch or clean it. He would rather do that.

Thorfinn has no problem with you washing his clothes though! Don't be stranger, go ahead! (Well, you did say he reeks. And what's the point in bathing if the clothes stink as well? He's washing himself right now, he doesn't have time, so...)

But in return, he'd do the same for you.

You can go ahead and bathe, he'll watch your belongings and if you ask, well, fine, he'll also wash your clothes.

Again, if you are a woman, he'd definetly will keep watch over your belongings and for you. The blonde would stay near and have his back turned to you as he keeps watch of the area. He can't risk any of the bandmates or others to see you or steal your clothes while you are bathing.

On a note; when he is washing your clothes, he would only go so far as for your pants, top sections, cloak, belts and pockets. He would not touch your underwear. You can go and do that yourself. It's better this way (Thorfinn would in return not expect you to wash his underwear either. Like, ew.).

Aside from bathing, you'd also groom yourselves.

Both of you have no qualms about brushing each other's hair, epecially when it comes to taking out lices. When asked Thorfinn would drop what he was doing (well, if it wasn't anything important) and brush your hair, no problem. The first few times he did that for you he most likely to definitely hurt you and got stuck on some tangled locks multiple times. He does get better though and gets gentler over time.

However, the blonde only insists on help when he is really being terrorized by lices. Even if he has a few, as long as they don't keep him up at night he does not see a reason to brush his hair. Bro could look like a scarecrow but he still wouldn't ask. Thorfinn does not care for his outer appereance as long as he can f i g h t grr.

(Okay incoming angst here: Another reason why he might not want to get his hair brushed is because it might remind him of the old, english mother who did that for him - before he ended up getting her killed. If you were in the middle of brushing his hair like she did, he might freeze up and tell you to stop - sorry, I know I said this would be wholesome but it just came to me,,,, ಥ,_｣ಥ I'm sowwy, if you want wholesomness pls ignore this)

Back to the wholesomness haha: If you do brush his hair, no matter if you talk to him/tease him/are completely silent, for the first few times, Thorfinn would definitely get embarrassed.

He knows it's done for the sake of hygiene but...he can't help it. Having you take care of him through such an motherly act is...touching as it is equally embarrasing. It would not help if you started just casually talking to him, or tease him for his behaviour or start humming like a mother taking care of her fledgling. PLEASE. JUST STOP.

And if you compliment how nice his hair looks? That you like how blonde he is? Gods, p l e a s e. just s t o p. You're embarrassing him, he's gonna go red as a tomato!

It's another reminder of how...normal of a person you are. That this moment that you shared was a moment of normalcy.

Normal, everyday interaction. Something akin to what friends, family and lovers have.

You two have long learned to not do this in the presence of the others. While the men simply wash themselves when it rains and groom themselves by running their (usually dirty and bloody) fingers through their hair, they see your way of taking care of yourselfves as too intimate. It's the same result and something many villagers do but it still makes these prideful vikings laugh.

So when you do take care of yourselves, you do it in private (You grumble how anyone can be so childish to mock something as normal as brushing your hair with an actual brush).

This includes cutting hair.

In his opinion, Thorfinn's hair doesn't get in the way so he seldomly cuts it. He can cut your hair whenever you like though.

He'd even use his dagger. There isn't much going through his mind when using said weapon - he might admire it in one hand while holding a few of your locks in his other before starting. The same blade that belonged to his father, which he killed people with and defended the both of you with, he would now use to cut something as simple and light as hair. He'd feel a bit more sentimental though if the point of cutting your hair was benficial to your general safety.

The blade that kills and defends would now keep you a bit safer (would his father agree?).

Aside from all this sentimentality, you can bet all your belongings that Thorfinn is an awful hairdresser.

He'd take a fistful of your hair, just the amount that you said you wanted gone, and just...cuts it. No corrections afterwards whatsoever. He is as gentle as a mother but your hairdo still looks like trash.

Well, in the world or vikings where you could die at any time and at any battlefield, looks don't really matter.

Still, there is something going on in his mind, you can tell.

After or during the haircut, Thorfinn looks at your cut locks in his hand, blinking with an unreadable expression before having the wind slip them out of his grasp.

Perhaps he is thinking that even something like long hair can be a danger out on the battlefield and the sea. Maybe you actually like to keep your hair the way it was but simply had to cut it and saw it as a shame. Or he might have thought how pretty your hair is. Who knows.

Thorfinn is the kind of guy who overthinks but keeps most of these things to himself.

Injuries are common as mercenaries and when you do have some, you two are the only ones taking care of each other.

In fact, either of you would refuse to help anyone else on the ship.

Men who raid, kill and follow a man who tried to get you killed are not worth to fuss over (yes, you both are still salty about that).

They can get sick and rot as much as they want, they won't get any help from you and Thorfinn.

When it comes to injury and sickness, it is one of those times where the both of you treat the other like glass. Gingerly and carefully while ordering that there will be no more working, helping and fighting until they are better. Thorfinn is a bit more stubborn to disobey and fight regardless and you've told him dozends of times how foolish that is. In fact, you might have had to save him a few times because he was being too stubborn.

On that note, you both save each other. It's an unwritten rule and there are no favors expected at the end. You save him and he saves you because both of you want to. Both of you don't want the other to die.

That can lead to arguements on what is considered dangerous. It's all out of tough love, however.

And when the day draws to a close, you two perpare to rest. Food is shared and the sleeping spots prepared. On boat, you are on the far back, huddled close and leaning against the raling to sleep. On land, you either camp or sleep on some hay in a stable.

Nevertheless, before anything can be done you two decide who will keep watch first. The decision is done quickly and whenver the other one starts to feel tired, they nudge the other one awake to switch.

If it gets cold and the wind bites you, well...you and Thorfinn were thinking of cuddling not to freeze to death. It's embarrassing (definitely for him, you could be a total different case entirely).

First you tried to share your blankets but keep some space. That would mean neither of you gets to move though. Besides, what's the point of keeping warm if you can't feel the body temperature of the other?

So...it seems like you have to physically touch. It's easy if both of you are sitting and just lean against each other, maybe even have one rest their head one the other's shoulder or head. Knees touching as your hunched small and close, though Thorfinn is very hesitant to wrap his arms around you. It's different when he is simply patching you up or leading you elsewhere...here he has to keep you warm.

Will most likey not initiate any kind of cuddling/wrapping his arms around you AT ALL. Dude is too embarrassed. And if you are female, then he is certainly hesitant. What if you don't want him to be close at all but have to endure it due to the cold? He surely can't touch you then.

However, if you tell him it's alright or if you initiate it, then...well, he needs time and a bit more encouraging but he will accept. Gingerly so though, and constantly overthinking where he even should put his arms. Finally decides to just have his arms around your shoulders, maybe rest his hand on your head.

Speaking of heads, he really, really, really prefers to have your head on his shoulder and not the other way around. As comforting as the thought may be...it also makes him feel small, like he is being taken care of. Just let him rest his head on your head, alright?

Please do not talk to him during this. It's beyond embarrassing but also...flustering. Thorfinn wouldn't know what to say anyway. Sleep, it's the reason why you are so close in the first place, right?

Now if you were lying on the ground...uh oh.

Thorfinn would not ever cuddle with you while lying down. He'd rather freeze to death.

No, no, no, no. He can't handle that.

But if you were the one freezing? If the cold, howling wind bites you and snow starts covering you like a blanket? He would do it. No question.

Again, please take the initiate. Just...tell him what to do, briefly and bluntly with no teasing. The blonde doesn't have the patience for that.

Thorfinn could never spoon in general, let alone be the BIG spoon. You and him...aren't like that. And have him be the little spoon? No, feeling your arms around him from the back is also just too much. It messes with his head and seldomly might even make his heart speed up.

Ugh, how annoying.

No spoons. Just not dying. That's it.

It's best to just sit and sleep if you have to cuddle.

Having your arms around each other, being so close, lying on the hay, your face so close to his...and then, maybe you even snore and he feels your breath fawning over his lips...

Bonus points - or rather, to add to his anxious horror - it would even be worse if you move a lot in your sleep.

You could cuddle into his chest, neck or face. That'd just be awful. How is he supposed to move? How is this going to look like in the morning?

AND IF YOU MOVE AWAY FROM HIM AND HE IS SUPPOSED TO KEEP YOU CLOSE SO YOU WON'T GET COLD??? BRO HE IS TRYING TO HELP YOU.

Does he seriously have to physically pull you close to him? What. A. Drag. He shouldn't have to be dealing with this.

The young man is already battling with himself where he is supposed to keep his hands when pulling you back to your original position. Oh, hell no, he going to wake you up and tell you to stop moving (stop snoring while you're add it btw).

Oh, also a VERY important point: You are not shorter than Thorfinn. Period. You can be the same height or taller but Thorfinn keeps on being the short one, capiche. He. Remains. Small.

So because of that when lying next to each other, you are probably face-to-face most of the time.

It is...bothersome. Thorfinn can't turn away nor look anywhere else when your face is right there.

He might even tell you so since he cant see anything with your mug right in front of his face when he has to keep watch. You offer to make yourself small and it inevitably leads...to you nuzzling into his neck (or chest if you hunch real small. Your back is gonna hurt in the morning though). The young man supposes it's better than nothing. The only way even perhaps.

He keeps a hand on the back of your head to keep you from moving and blocking his sight. Does not help when he feels your warm breath hit his neck.

You are either both asleep, or you switch, nudging the other awake to keep watch.

If it is Thorfinn, well, lucky him. He definitely can't sleep when you are cuddled up to him like that...though he tries to see it as something useful. He won't ever fall asleep while on watch and neither would he get any nightmares when he's awake.

Especially if you snore.

But perhaps you don't snore. You talk in your sleep instead.

It could be about anyhting; A dream, nightmare, a memory, family, your past, something that just happened a day ago. It depends on you if Thorfinn is familiar with it.

He'd stare, not knowing what to do. As long as it isn't anything that causes you to panic, he lets you sleep. Having no choice, he probably must listen to your rambles, wether or not you both like it.

If he hears anything personal, he won't mention it in the morning. You didn't mean to spill any beans, it just happened.

If you seem to be in discomfort, oh boy, does he not know what to do. Thorfinn might try to rub your back and he might try to pat your head but if it doesn't work, he shakes you awake. No use if you panic in your sleep right next to him.

He tells you of your discomfort but wouldn't know what to do afterwards. You can either try to sleep again or take over watch...

[too...many...thorfinn thoughts...overtaking...my...brain...not good...

also there literally are no pictures of prologue Thorfinn smiling :,) there is that one thing where he makes fun of Canute but thats no smile...thats basking in mockery :,)

little thorfinn is cute thou]

[snapscube]

i trust your opinions very much so i have an important question: how would you rank all six seasons of better call saul?

Oh god this is such a difficult thing to do but my gut take is, from highest to lowest (of course keeping in mind that even the lowest tier is still 10/10 filmmaking and one of my favorite shows of all time):

Season 3 - Easily the show at its best imo. I feel like I maybe go against the grain ever so slightly when I say that I enjoy the first half of this show ever so slightly more than the back half, and it really loses something special when Michael McKean as Chuck leaves despite having enough interesting stories to go the rest of the way. Jimmy's relationship with Chuck is the infinitely compelling centerpiece of his character that quite literally changes everything that came before and that would come after. not to mention this is the season that gave us Chicanery, which is my favorite episode of the show and one of my favorite episodes of television ever.

Season 5 - though I think S6 ends up being an intensely compelling finale overall, I think the more straightforward direct descent into darkness that the characters experience in this season ends up being JUST A TAD more potent for me. Especially once you reach the end and see where Kim lands and how that affects Jimmy internally. The payoff is great, but there's something about the impending potential for disaster that this season sets up that really made it stick with me.

Season 2 - This season gave us the inflatable man montage. I need say no more.

Season 4 - This season gave us the something stupid montage. I need say no more.... but I will. It was also the introduction of Lalo, a character I honestly don't know if I fully believed we would see until it happened. Fucking legendary piece of lore building.

Season 1 - Again, I think Jimmy's relationship with Chuck is THE SINGLE MOST INTERESTING thing this show ever added to the character of Saul Goodman. This season is an extremely worthwhile buildup to understanding that relationship fully, and though some complain it's too much of a slow burn I think it's perfectly paced. This and Season 2 give us the "early years Saul Goodman" show that the premise implies, but has just enough tension boiling underneath the surface to lead us into what the show REALLY is come Season 3 onward.

Season 6 - ...okay I KNOW HOW THIS LOOKS. I honestly wasn't expecting Season 6 to be at the bottom of this list because I REALLY LOVE Season 6. I think it's just because I've watched the other seasons so, so, so many times so they just really mean a lot to me, and I still only have one watch of S6 under my belt. I gotta rewatch it soon cause there is so much to love about the way this show wraps up. Again, I have to stress: bottom of a Better Call Saul tier list is still S+ filmmaking.

I fucking love this show

[percyjacksonblog]

PJO TV series thoughts (some spoilers)

The actors know their characters really well

The pacing is too slow

It really missed the mark on Percy and Luke’s early relationship and therefore missed the emotional impact of Luke betraying Percy in the forest

Quit giving the kids the answers immediately, one of the best parts about the series is how you see Percy and the rest of the half-bloods wrestling with their issues during the quests and therefore generating more character development

Missed the opportunity to look more deeply into Annabeth and Luke’s relationship and Annabeth feeling betrayed by Luke

Did like them bringing up Thalia in more detail before SoM

Action scenes were lacking. These characters with the movie action scenes would have improved the overall experience in my opinion

The Lotus Casino and Hotel was disappointing to me. That chapter in the book revealed so much more about the characters then everything up to that point i.e a preview into their “fatal flaws”

Didn’t mention Annabeth’s love of architecture but A+ mentioning her fear of spiders

I did like some of the changes, and it overall was more true to the story than the movie

Not Jason Mantzoukas actually being one of the best casting choices for Dionysus

They did a good job making Kronos creepy, but missed just how sinister he actually is

Overall I did enjoy it. I think this was a good place to start to test the water and the audience before the rest of the story comes out.

Things I hope they do and keep in mind moving forward.

They need to pick the pace up. They cut so much from the book and just left the big plot points that it seems like nothing is actually leading them from one plot point to the next.

Hopefully the show runners saw what is happening with the stranger things kids and won’t let that happen here. They were like 12 years old when they started and now they’re in their late teens and early twenties. They need to film as much as they can for the next two installments as possible over the course of this year and then they can do the same with BotL and TLO. We’d either get a Logan Lerman or Stranger Things scenario where adults are playing teens and it looks so bad.

Better marketing for the pre-teen audience. I was in 6th grade when I first heard about Percy Jackson and The Lightning Thief had been out for probably close to 3-4 years so I literally grew up with Percy, it was a very personal story for me. That being said, because I was around Percy’s age I related to the characters more and there needs to be a better job of connecting the 11-14 year old target audience to this story. PJO fan clubs at the junior high schools, book clubs in their English classes with resources from the show etc. I love this story, but I’m a full grown adult now with an adult job and have had one for years so I know I’m not the target audience for this show, but I know several people like me who are in the same situation.

SoM is the shortest in the original 5 book series so they need to stick closer to the source material, maybe more Odyssey references as SoM is essentially a retelling of The Odyssey.

Unless they literally film the next 4 seasons at once within the next two years, I don’t think we’ll get a HoO series, the kids will be too old. The only work around I can see is recasting Percy and Annabeth or making two original characters, but then SoN,MoA and HoH wouldn’t make sense.

[on-a-sunbeam]

Revenge and Dollhouse for the ask game?

YES HI!!! Uhm I’ll do Dollhouse first!

My rating (1-10): I’d give it a 6, maybe. Which is to say that I enjoyed it A LOT but also I have just like. A Few Critiques. Just one or two.

My favourite character: ADELLE!! There is no contest here at all I loveee her

My least favourite character: Okay, this used to be super easy because I really hated Topher at first, but I have grown to tolerate him so. I mean I hate like almost all the clients and also Sierra’s handler, but you’re supposed to hate them so it’s not really specific to me, I guess. I’ll say Nolan though, for obvious reasons.

The character I think I'd be friends with: I think Ivy because I have friends that Ivy reminds me of heh

The character I think I won't hit off with: Maybe Ballard? He seems very serious I don’t know

My favourite episode/scene: EVERY SCENE WITH ADELLE. I’m kidding but only slightly. Uhh I really liked A Spy in the House of Love, though, and I think Echoes is pretty funny. Belonging has um. A LOT going on in it, but I will say I really liked Adelle in that one, too.

Whose clothing style I like best: Unfortunately, I’m legally obligated to say Topher because I dress exactly like him. It was slightly detrimental to my whole initial hating-him campaign that every time I saw him I went ‘ah I would wear that’

Times I watched it (and if I would again): Once! And I definitely would again; despite its flaws I do really like it and it’s not super long either. Plus Adelle.

Aaand Revenge!!

My rating (1-10): 8.5! I love it a lot

My favourite character: UHHH HARD tie between Emily and Victoria. I do also really like Amanda so I don’t know.

My least favourite character: It’s been a hot second since I’ve watched this, so no one’s really jumping out to me. I will say though that I somehow forget that Jack exists half the time. I really don’t know how I manage that when he’s kind of a Main Guy, but it’s still a little surprise every time he shows up. This doesn’t even happen to Declan, just to him.

The character I think I'd be friends with: I’m not saying Ashley is normal, per se, but I am saying she’s MOSTLY normal. I feel like we could hang out and chat while I was blissfully unaware of any scheming.

The character I think I won't hit off with: I have a weird soft spot in my heart for Tyler but we most certainly would not be friends

My favourite episode/scene: SHOOT. Okay, I liked the party where it all came full circle to the beginning, and I feel like there were some really good twists, but I really like the scene where Amanda dies (which is stupid because I love Amanda but). Also I know this is SUCH a small thing, but for some reason that group shot of the Grayson’s after Victoria kills Helen means everything to me. It’s so silly, but I love it so much.

Whose clothing style I like best: Nolan, maybe? I don’t know, I feel like he had some iconic looks.

Times I watched it (and if I would again): I have a confession to make guys, I actually have not finished it yet 😔. I’m actually still in the middle of season 3 because I’m slow at watching things sometimes. But I have really liked it so far, so odds are pretty good it would be something that I will rewatch!!

Sorry, I just thought of an answer to the least favourite character thing. I HATE AIDEN. I HAVE NO RHYME OR REASON I JUST DISLIKE HIM.

THANK YOU SO MUCH for the ask though!!!

[smolcinnamonchipmunk]

I’ve only recently thought of this but I’ve personally never seen anyone do like, a giant naga and a Cervitaur (deer centaur). Just imagine it. Maybe have like a game they play together when both of them are bored is for the naga to chase the Cervitaur. Honestly I would love to ramble of the scenarios I’ve cooked up but I wouldn’t want to bore you and this ask is long as it Hehehe

- 🌽 anon

Ps: this isn’t related to the ask but I’m told that sometimes I act like venti sometimes. Just thought id share :3

(I always love nagas and I made a cervitaur sona YEARS ago, so perfect combo! Here's a naga trying to bask and a cervitaur bothering him because every character I make is either sad or a menace.

Also, I took a very lengthy and startlingly in depth Genshin Impact character quiz and got Albedo. Do with that information what you will, lmao.

Also, also, feel free to ramble! I always love reading how creative people are here!)

Count: 1189

TW/CW: Just G/t

“Lazarus!” They called out, stotting towards the largest predator in the forest. Who was currently basking on a stretch of dark stone that had already melted the first inch or so of snowfall of the season that showed up in the night, making it the warmest spot within a mile probably.

They saw a section of ombre blue coil twitch ever so slightly at their call, the sound of a soft groan joining the small movement. It wasn’t long before a humanoid torso larger than them pushed itself up to blearily look around with green eyes. Cat-like slits narrowed onto them and a gaze that would likely have naturally left many cowering only made their tail wag for a second, slowing to a light trot up to the naga.

A black tongue that faded to pink flicked out of the nagas mouth as he tasted the air briefly, greeting, “Yew.”

“Whatcha doing,” the cervitaur asked rhetorically, knowing that he had been warming up in the morning sun. And, as they jumped up to balance on top of his rather large tail, he read their emotions pretty easily. The tail beneath them twitched slightly to the side to jostle them a bit, making them yelp. The sound elicited a chuckle from the naga.

“Feeling bored, are you?” Lazarus questioned back, tongue flicking out again as he resettled his head back on crossed arms. His coils shifted slowly and carefully to use the tip of his tail to prod at their side. He snorted as they batted it away. “No,” Yew immediately replied on instinct. They paused and fidgeted with their hands a bit as they sheepishly amended, “I mean.. Well, yeah, I’m a bit bored… the first snow has put everything in a sluggish state and I already collected the last of the berries around.”

The naga hummed, tilting his head slightly. “And you're not sluggish as well?”

“No,” they sighed, absentmindedly scraping their hoof on the scales beneath them lightly. “I’m restless and Espen said he was too busy already preparing for winter to make time to hang out.” “He’s more warm-blooded than me.”

“That’s what I said,” Yew huffed, crossing their arms as the duo talked about their ursine friend. “I didn’t really feel like hanging by the side of the river while waiting for him to fill up his fish basket, the river water is freezing today.”

“I imagine,” Lazarus chuckled. He shifted so that he lifted his head from his crossed arms and gently poked at their side with a dark blue claw this time, green eyes glinting in the sunlight. “I’m going to go ahead and guess that you’re probably here to either bother me from my basking with chatter or that you want to play.”

“Well, it sounds childish when you put it like that,” they didn’t flinch from the sharp digit that brushed against their furry-halfs ribs, simply huffing and giving him a disgruntled pout that probably just proved his point. “But, yes, I was hoping to do something together.”

The naga actually laughed slightly at their response and pulled his hand back. With a small grunt of effort he pushed himself off the stone to take the weight off his arms, reaching out and scooping up his smaller companion in his claws off of his tail. 

Yew didn’t squirm or struggle as the claws closed in and folded their legs beneath them to make it easier for him to hold them in his palms that didn’t involve them struggling with balance. They waited patiently the few seconds it took for him to lower his hands from his tail level and tilt his hands down, letting themself slide off his hands slightly before getting up and hopping down, hooves clattering a bit on the stone as they landed.

“How about a chase then, hmm?” Lazarus asked, reaching up and stretching his arms over his head as the cervitaur turned back to face him. “Burn that energy out of your system.”

“Yes!” Yew jumped slightly in place, excited at the thought of a game so much that their tail wagged again. They knew that he could catch them easily with a powerful burst from his tail, but they also knew that he enjoyed these sorts of games as well. They hopped from hoof to hoof giddily, asking, “Five seconds, like usual?”

“Sounds good to me,” the naga finished stretching. A few audible pops and cracks made Yew’s ears twitch as he rolled his shoulders, looking down with mischievous eyes. “Run.”

Yew happily pranced in place for a moment before whirling around and bolting into the trees. They didn’t hear Lazarus count down and he didn’t need to, they were already counting down in their head. And, as they mentally went from one to zero, they heard the distant shift of scales against stone and the exclamation of ‘Here I come!’.

They couldn't help but glance behind them, letting out a yelp that was the result of instinctive panic at seeing a giant naga slithering towards them and playful giddiness that made the end turn into a bit of a laugh.

For over half an hour Yew was chased by Lazarus. They leapt over fallen trees and rocks that his powerful tail easily crushed or swept aside if he didn't feel like slithering around them. He'd occasionally block them with his tail, but they'd either leap over it or flip around to run in the opposite direction. They felt the rush of wind sometimes as he playfully missed grabbing at them. It was only when their pace flagged noticeably that he decided that the game had gone on long enough.

“Getting tired?” Lazarus asked, slithering around to block the cervitaurs current trajectory.

“Not at all,” Yew replied, lying through their teeth. They reared back as a wall of scales shifted in front of them, too close to even try jumping over. Sides heaving, they glowered at their larger friend, wheeling around to start bolting in the opposite direction. But another coil of his massive tail was already there to block them off. Indignant at being corralled they grumpily exclaimed, “Hey! You’re not playing fair!”

“And you’re lying,” the naga hummed as he shifted his coils enough to gently curl around the cervitaur. Yew let out a disappointed groan as the walls of scale around them easily shifted their small form and coiled around them, the cool scales feeling like a relief against them after the running roundabout they’d just had, even as they were lifted up to the nagas awaiting hands. As the coils loosened and his claws scooped them up again, they crossed their arms over their chest. “Even if I am lying, it’s still not fair.”

“Think of it as repayment for interrupting my bask,” Lazarus’s tongue flicked out, everything shifting as he started to slither back to the dark stone from earlier. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

The duo hadn’t really wandered off incredibly far and it didn’t take much time for him to take them from slightly snow covered grass and dripping trees back onto the warmer stone clearing he’d been laying in earlier.

[sskk-manifesto]

yeahh atsushi's internal monologue and plea always felt like a eye of the storm moment to me, absolute silence, except for the plea for "somebody anybody... please fight with me". it could have stood well enough on its own, just atsushi calling out in the darkness, the music was not needed

EXACTLY exactly!! It's a moment of complete solitude, and that can only translate with low and slow music / complete silence tbh.

(Following a line of thought I ended up rambling a bit about some things I haven't had the chance to bring up so far, it's quite negative on occasions so leaving it under the cut / feel freee to ignore)

I don't knowwwww like why are they compressing the episodes so badly to the point in three (3) episodes they never had time to roll the ending credits. I don't get it. In my very humble opinion: chapters 84-87 should have taken one episode and half (again. The sskk / Fitzgerald fight has the same length and that's the anime screentime it got). And it actually works perfectly, because chapter 87 *needs* to be a cliffhanger at the end of the episode, so they could have easily arrenged the episodes like: all the previous episodes events (chapters 78-83) should have taken two episodes and half, then the remaining half together with the entirety of episode four would have adapted chapters 84-87. As in season 4, the amount of events adapted isn't really the issue (they're almost adapting on panel by panel basis) as much as it is the restless pace that leaves you trying to catch your breath. By making the events adapted so far take 4 episodes they could have easily spaced everything better, include some things that were overlooked (I feel like leaving out Fukuchi's motives was a big loss... Like as an anime only, why is he even doing what he's doing? I know some people have speculated it's for political reasons and I understand the argument, but then again even if they wanted to include it, how could they possibly make it fit)- not to mention, well, maybe have enough time to show the ending and not make it overlap with scenes that have a completely different atmosphere.

I don't know why they're cutting things so short. The pace was a problem with season 4 too, but now in addition to that there was also a massive and evident quality drop to the animation which... Eh. Episode 3 had whole scenes of just static frames which are extremely awkward to see, and a thousand times more so in a supposedly action centered episode. From the very beginning: if one was bitter enough to bring together all the time they spent on the same Akutagawa / Dazai on opposite sides frame in the first flashback sequence they'd get 36 seconds, which is just unacceptable.

I don't get it. Wouldn't it make more sense to make as many episodes / seasons as possible as to have more dvds to sell AND to keep the fans engaged with the franchise for as long as possible? It's not like the manga updates super quickly so they were in a rush to catch up or something. But that can only lead me to one consideration: what was the reason of having two seasons come out in the same year? From my very limited perspective, applying a little common sense, here's a very simplified way to describe how I'd guess things should work: anime company releases a season. The anime season gets the fans invested, so anime company can sell them merch for a while- and that's why you can attest an abundance of merch release simultaneus and following the anime airing. After some time passes, the audience will start losing interest: that's when anime company releases a new season, and the cycle starts over. If anime company releases the seasons with such a small time frame between them, aren't them losing profit? This way anime company basically ends up losing all the potential profit of the first wave of interest that comes after the season that released first. And it's reasonable to guess that, given the unusual amount of it, bsd profits /a lot/ from selling merch, so I don't get it. (And that is neglecting, in a way that is reprehensible on its own, mentioning the negative ethical consequences that releasing one season right after the other has, especially in relation of overworking animators. I was hoping the execution of season 5 was assigned to a new animators team who worked on it in parallel to season 4 but, given the evident drop in quality and overall how unpolished the new season is, I'm afraid one can't afford the luxury to believe that anymore).

Tl;dr: Capitalism ruined the Atsushi “I’m all alone someone come rescue me” scene, which should have had either silence or a gloomy background music, but instead got the ending song because they just don't have space to fit things. I really can't seem to understand why they'd rush the anime release because it doesn't make sense to me from any point you see it. Also justice for chapters 84-87

[originallypoki]

Our Flag Means Death S2 Spoilers!

Something people doesn't seem to realize, is that pacing has a key impact to a story. Yes, the tale you want to tell can be the best someone has ever come up with, but if your pacing of it is awful, it pulls the whole story down with it. To rushed pacing? It loses meaning and impact, because there's no time to become attached. To slow paced? It becomes boring and uninteresting, finishing the book, show or movie feels more like a task than actual fun.

The first 4 episodes of season 2 of OFMD were awesome. The pacing was perfect, we had enough time to register what was happening and to sort out our emotions. I was a bit thrown off by ep 5. Because, while still good paced, you can start the see the problems because of the missing 2 eps ( for example the skipped fight, instead choosing to tell, not show. )-

Then episode 6 and 7 happened. And oh boi, I wanted to drop the show, only my love for it keeping me going.

I know that it isn't David Jenkins and the production team's fault, since the 2 episodes got cut, giving us the total of 8. But I can't excuse the decision to cram the plot of 10 eps into 8. If you have so little time left, why don't just cut some 'unimportant' storypoints?

Like Ned Lowe, he was introduced and died in the same episode. His purpose was to give GentleBeard development I know, that still doesn't give him enough importance to let him stay in the shortened version. Just like the second break-up from GentleBeard we got in ep 7.

Instead we got very out-of-character characters, Stede for example. I can see why he acts the way he does in ep 7. It would make sense, had he more time to have proper character development! Instead he feels weird, plus the very very uncomfortable second-hand embarrassment scenes (like the fight with Zheng). And sadly after ep 3, I couldn't feel the same chemistry GentleBeard had in S1. While there were cute scenes, like the end of ep5, I felt like something was missing to make me actually care. It's just my feelings, so not very important, but it was a bit disappointing.

The end of ep 7 gave me hope. Because it was a perfect way to introduce a villain, who's a genuine threat to our heros. And I maybe like Prince Ricky a bit to much. Then ep 8 came crushing down while drowing my love for OFMD, that made me ignore everything wrong with the second half of S2.

I like ep 8, well the first few minutes. It felt like I finally had time to see what's happening and David Jenkins didn't leave us completely clueless. ( Let's ignore the logic holes since it was is a comedy show and they were always there. ) And I was way to busy squieking like a pig of happiness to think critical.

I have many criticism points, but will only focus on one;

Izzy's death. And by god, I. Am. Pissed. Killing a character that is beloved by the fandom isn't the problem. While I love him, he's my favorite, I also love a good ol' angst. But he was in the middle of his redemption arc, and ending this with death is just such weak writing. I have nothing against killing a character off for development. Iron man for example, his whole story is about becoming a better person and jumping over his ego. And it ends just like Izzy in death. But Tony was through his arc, his death was the final, showing he has changed, showing he would do everything to save the universe and more important, the people he loves.

If Izzy died at the start of or before S2 I wouldn't complain, because it would've been perfect for him. Maybe if he died a more impactful death I wouldn't write this. But you can't make a character finally change and then destroy the meaning of it by killing him off in the fucking middle of the change. It would've had so much more impact seeing how he becomes a part of the crew he loathed not even a few weeks ago. Episode 5 did that great, while a bit fast. I like how he and Stede get along. Growing closer. It was a bit too fast paced, and I hoped for them to finally communicate, not talk. The same with Ed, I wanted him and Izzy to finally talk to eachother and not through eachother. However, giving us acutally communication while Izzy's fucking dying is not how you give impact. (And credit where credit's due; I really like that dialog, it was beautiful and the right words choosen to explain how Izzy feels)

Not to forget what a meaning it conveys. Izzy always did what he thought was right, even when it was completely wrong. But when he finally grows and begins to do actually what is right and let's go of Ed, he dies?

Still, I wouldn't say that they shouldn't have done a season 2 at all. It has great potential and I can see what they were going for. So, while it has it's problem's, it's nothing what a good fanfic can't fix. So I look forward to the amazing works that will build up on this hot mess and / or 'correct' it.

So bye, I'll go cry and give the last three episodes of S2 of OFMD, the last 20 minutes of S2 Go treatment T^T (except that GO S2 was fucking fantastic through the whole season)

[beyoursbb]

€uro Tra$h Series: Dipped in $ugar (Part 2)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x You (Reader) || Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 3.3k || Link to Part 1 and Link to Part 3 - final (Timeline for this work is Season 1 btw)

Summary: Billy comes back from work with The Boys. He can't say what he was up to, but makes sure your wait for him is worth it. 

Author’s Note: Really happy to post this sequel as I appreciated the love and feedback Part 1 got. Would like to know how this work compares to Part 1 (I feel like I let this one go more lol, tried to make the smut a little hotter, and be intentional with pacing the story) and hear any writing advice in general. I’m excited and enjoying getting back into it!

Warnings: same as before — sugar daddy / daddy kink (use of the name daddy 2 times), age gap (implied, not specified), swearing, protected p in v, tiny bit of choking and degrading reader

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

You woke up startled. The sound of several deep, booming male voices arguing outside the room reverberated through the door. You hardly had time to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes before the latch unlocked and Billy came striding in followed noisily by three other men all talking at once. You lifted your head and instinctively covered your arms around your frontside even though you were completely clothed. 

“Jesus, fuck!” one of the men exclaimed, just as startled. “Butcher, who the hell—”

The sound of a heavy, blunt metal object clattering onto the table cut off the question and made you flinch as Billy stared at your rigid figure laying on the bed. 

“ ‘m sorry, sweetheart, thought you would’ve left by now,” he said.

Your eyes flitted between him, the group of strangers frozen in place on the motel’s sage green carpet, and the large semi-automatic rifle laying next to your half eaten dinner. You forced yourself to take a shaky breath as you noticed Butcher’s battered physique — in fact — you realized all of them were in pretty bad shape: clothes tattered, arms cut and bruised, faces caked in sweat, grime, and dried blood. Each had at least one handgun tucked into the waistband of his pants. 

“I’m going to get us another room,” the tall, skinny man announced awkwardly. “Come with me, Frenchie.” The shortest man nodded, took a moment to shift his gaze between you and Billy, then back to meet your eyes in a gentle glance as if he wanted to say something, but instead, he darted out quickly. 

“Un-fucking-believable. This where you  been fucking off to, Butcher?” the man who was left asked, glaring at Billy. “How fucking old is she, by the way?”

“She’s a fucking consenting adult so mind your fucking business,” Billy shot back.

“I would, if your business, like maybe the fucking plan tonight, didn’t always end up fucked up.”

Billy had been staring off at the far end of the room, but now turned toward his associate. He took one, slow, menacing step forward, squaring up chest to chest with the man, who was honestly built like a truck. Billy was obviously huge, but this guy’s biceps alone were bigger than your head. Billy’s gray eyes were piercing and stone cold, which you’d never seen before. They never broke contact with the pair of brown eyes across from him. You held your breath waiting for the first swing that never came. 

Billy’s voice was low and sounded angry, yet also eerily calm when he spoke. 

“You lot are the ones who called me for help. The fucking plan tonight was me doing my fucking best to clean up your mess. So I can fuck off where ever I want with whoever I want because I’m not the one who needs a fucking babysitter. Next time you get in trouble when you go off on your own, MM, call Janine’s nanny.”

The man’s jaw was clenched so tight as he glared at Billy, you thought it would pop. After the longest silent minute you ever had to sit through passed, he shook his head, turning to you. “I’m sorry we scared you. I’m just pissed at this asshole.” With a final angry scowl thrown in Billy’s direction, the last mystery guy pivoted to exit. 

As abruptly as the room had been filled, it had emptied. The distance between Billy and you felt like miles in that small, cramped room, alone. You checked the time on the digital clock on the nightstand and did the mental math of how many hours you’d been asleep. You didn’t even remember falling asleep, but from your estimate, you calculated Billy had been gone for five hours. Whether you wanted to find out what happened in those five hours, you weren't sure. 

You didn’t move a muscle, and neither did he as he sat against the table, arms crossed over his chest with one hand holding his bearded chin. His body was tense, his face hardened and unreadable. His eyes stared out in front of him, deep in thought. The silence hung heavy like the humid summer air in a New York City alleyway.

You felt confused, but mostly scared. Your heart was pounding in your ears from shock, your breathing was shallow and uneven as if you were recovering from a run, and the tension held throughout your body, culminating in your chest, was almost painful. Yet you couldn’t tell if you were scared of him or for him. It leaned toward the latter.

“That was work?” Your voice came out smaller than you wanted.

Billy straightened up slowly, making eye contact with you for the first time since he’d returned. 

“ ‘Fraid so, luv.” 

That already sounded like the end of the conversation. 

Billy moved to sit at the foot of the bed and started undressing, kicking off his shoes first. You scooted up so you were sitting against the pillows again and hugged your knees into your chest. It was cold because the air conditioning had been running when you accidentally fell asleep, but you didn’t want to get under the covers in case that crossed a line. 

You didn’t normally stay the night and sleep with Billy; actually, it had only happened once, when he hit you up on such a whim, you both arrived at the hotel at the same time. The front desk staff only gave a couple weird looks when you two checked in, but Billy being his usual, completely unfazed self helped you ignore any awkwardness you felt. He had appeared a bit disheveled that night, but it was nothing compared to how he seemed right now. You didn’t even have sex; all he did was sleep next to you, one arm wrapped around your waist. He stirred slightly every time you reached for the TV remote or shifted to a more comfortable position, but in the morning when he unceremoniously handed you your payment, he mentioned it was the best sleep he’d gotten in a long while. 

“How’d you get here?” Billy asked as he took the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head. 

Your voice was a little stronger, but still quiet. “I drove.”

He nodded absentmindedly. “Offer still stands. You don’t needa stay.”

“It’s okay. It’s late. I’d rather not drive at this time.” 

He stood to remove his jeans. 

“Unless you rather I go,” you added, quickly. Maybe he wanted to be alone after whatever the hell he went through with his coworkers. 

“Don’t matter to me,” he replied plainly, shrugging and bending his arms at the elbow, palms facing up as he walked to the bathroom. 

This time, Billy stayed in there longer, which made you feel like the amount of time spent waiting with your fifty burning questions you assumed he wouldn’t answer anyways was more than twenty minutes. He went straight for the bed when he came out and untucked the covers on his side to crawl under right next to you. The mattress springs creaked under his weight as he sank in slowly on his back, trying not to wince. After his second shower of the night, he had patched himself up with several bandaids and medical tape wrapped around a couple fingers and his left wrist.

Before you had the chance to stand and wash up in the bathroom yourself, Billy rested his hand against your thigh down by your knee. You immediately relaxed the muscles you didn’t notice were still tense. 

“I know you probably have a million questions. I can’t answer ‘em.”

You looked at him understandingly, as if it was totally acceptable to be kept in the dark in regards to the whereabouts of a man whose BFG-50 was still pointing in your general direction, but at least he was straightforward. 

“You were never meant to know,” he added. 

Now that made you furrow your brows. Know what? You literally didn’t know anything about his life because he’s never told you anything. You and Billy were not close. Your irregular meetings meant you didn’t have a connection built with him like you did with other sugar daddies you saw frequently. Sure, you were madly attracted to him, borderline obsessed, but you were far from friends sharing secrets. The nature of your arrangement was always business, and said business was the epitome of “get that bread, get that head, then leave.” It was work you enjoyed, but the opportunity for meaningful conversation was severely limited. 

Billy’s hand slid up your leg and you stiffened again. He slowed, but kept traveling up past your hip to the middle of your back, turning his body onto his side closer to you, his other hand wrapping around your stomach, until you realized he was simply pulling you into a hug. You tucked yourself under his bearded chin and inhaled his scent off his bare chest, his fuzzy hairs tickling your nose.

Now that his adrenaline levels were down, his naturally rough voice was a tad softer. “You shouldn’t be scared of me.”

He spoke in a way that made you think he was not saying to stop your emotions, but externally processing the full realization of how the guys’ surprise entrance and his argument with his buddy affected you.

“Not scared of you,” you explained. “I was concerned for you.”

Billy’s chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Earlier you thought MM might’ve killed me right then and there? Not a chance, darlin’.”

You shook your head. Being witness to angry men sizing each other up can be terrifying, yes, but you hesitated telling him the truth about how you were still unsettled by their bounty-hunters-who-got-badly-beat look. 

“You're stiff as a board, luv,” he commented, gently separating you both and bringing one hand to lift your chin to look at him. It was true, you still hadn’t fully relaxed at any point since he’d been back.

Except at this moment — when his lips connected to yours. And you melted. 

It was probably the most tender kiss Billy had ever given you, but it didn’t stay that way for long. His tongue started it first, slowly going deeper into your mouth every time he took a breath, but it was your hands that gripped him tighter until your legs became tangled and your hips grinded together. You loved a makeout session that forced you to lose all your senses to where you could only handle hearing, taste, and touch. With your eyes closed, your sight disappears, and since your nose has to concentrate on helping your lungs obtain oxygen, you’re not really focused on smelling. But the sound, taste, and feeling of Billy in your arms is enough to overwhelm you. The longer you go at it, the heavier both of your breathing becomes, interspersed with short gasps and moans, the sloppier your taste buds get in exploring every centimeter of the other’s mouth, and the more desperate your hands are to tug, squeeze, and mold to the shape of your partner’s best assets. 

You didn’t usually take your time kissing either, maybe because you typically met on a time crunch, or you were just extremely horny around each other, so you tended to skip to the main event pretty quickly. But you got the sense that because of the night’s earlier situation, Billy wanted to slow down to make sure your head was in an okay space before proceeding, or not. You appreciated that; it was a gentlemanly move. You made sure he knew you were ready for more by rolling on top of him, straddling his hips, and grinding down against his hardening cock, all while keeping your fingers interlocked behind his neck and your lips mashed onto his. Billy responded eagerly, his fingertips gliding across the soft, smooth skin of your back, and creeping underneath your shirt to unhook your bra. He didn’t even bother to remove any of your top layers before feeling up your chest. You refrained from any wanton noises while he kneaded your breasts, but you did bite his lower lip a little extra hard when he teased your nipples. 

When you finally separated, the shift of your bodies made you well aware of the wetness in your underwear, and you were practically panting, your hands still roaming his torso because they couldn't decide whether to grip his muscular back, shoulders, or arms. 

“The other offer from earlier,” Billy said, his hands sliding down to your ass, giving it a squeeze, “also still stands.”

Catching your breath, you were so nervous of sounding utterly gone already without even being naked, all you could do was nod.

“That a yes? Want me to fuck you ‘til you’re screaming my name, princess?”

“God yes,” you almost moaned. “Please, Daddy.” 

You were pretty sure he could hear the urgency in your voice, but you made it crystal clear how badly you needed him by cupping the imprint of his dick through his boxers. Billy grunted in response, and in less than two seconds, he flipped you both over and discarded your leggings and panties carelessly out of the way. Now you were both playing with each other — you stroking his length while any number of his fingers rubbed your clit and teased your folds. 

“It’s more than wet down here, luv; you’re soaked,” he chuckled against your neck, his hot breath hitting your ear. 

It made you shiver, but at the same time, you were burning up, so you whipped off your shirt and bra. He wasted no time diving in to suck one of your nipples to a hardened peak. When he did the same to its twin, you finally gave in to the loud moan that had been gathering in your throat. Billy released his mouth with a pop and gazed down at you. 

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he said, his eyes hungrily raking over your nude figure before he stood to finally take off his one article of clothing and retrieve a condom.

“That cock block of a call was bloody inconvenient,” Billy muttered as he rolled on the latex and lined himself up to your entrance. “Can’t wait to feel this sweet fucking pussy.”

His last word was punctuated by him sliding in fast and deep. Even though you watched him disappear inside you, you were still caught by surprise, evident in your eyes rolling back into your skull while your mouth formed a silent “O.”

Billy was so goddamn huge and he knew it. 

“Somethin’ tells me your other daddies ain’t cuttin’ it,” he smirked. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, just grabbed your hips and set the tenacious tempo he wanted.

“They don’t fuck me like this,” you admitted through heavy breaths, reaching to bring him closer. Your hands settled on his lower back and he leaned forward, his arms moving to either side of your head to prop himself up above you. 

“Like what?” 

You knew what he wanted you to say. Like I’m a slut. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction so soon, even if it was true and you loved it. Your ability to form a coherent response was waning rapidly from his hips pounding into you anyways. The rhythmic slapping of his skin against yours made your brain go numb. 

“Like what, darlin’?” Billy repeated. His right thumb swiped against your lower lip, ready to press into your mouth, while he pulled out and stopped, barely leaving his tip in you. The sudden emptiness brought you out of your daze. You opened your half lidded eyes to find his dark pupils peering down at you. 

“Like—like you use me.”

“‘Course I do; what else are ya for?” he snarled. 

His hand trailed down, fingers surrounding your neck, squeezing it just enough to hold you down to resume his relentless pace, sinking in deeper and deeper with every thrust. 

All your sugar daddies “used” you so to speak, and you obviously used them for money. But with Billy, it never felt like you were fulfilling an obligation to the bit. It was almost natural to sink into the mindset of being nothing but a tool for his pleasure. It was easy because there was something so, so hot about laying spread open for him, allowing him to fuck you any way he wanted, and not caring how rough he was. Knowing you would be left to find bruises and deal with sore legs for the next few days after taking his cock excited you in the most feral, animalistic way. 

You let your body go limp and closed your eyes to focus on the sensation of Billy’s dick continuing to stretch you out while he growled more filth disguised as praise in your ear. You were so distracted by his voice urging you to be a good little slut and let your wet cunt come all over his cock because you sounded so pretty moaning his name, you didn’t notice him lick two of his fingers and send them down between your bodies. If you weren't already laying down, the zap of pleasure that shot straight through your stomach from him circling your clit would have made your knees buckle. You were almost embarrassed at how fast your pussy clenched, though you knew it was just a compliment to Billy. 

“Don’t be shy, luv,” he chided, as if he was reading your mind. 

You gasped as your climax continued to build with each delicious stroke of his hips. The friction was like fire against your nerves, so close to setting your whole body ablaze. Billy was breathing hard now too, sweat beading at his brow. The thumping of the bed against the wall had long been ignored, but now was completely drowned out by Billy’s grunts and groans of how good you felt around him. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Like your cunt was made to fit my cock.”

That elicited a loud, unrestrained moan from you. “Daddy,” you whimpered. It was futile to try to hold out longer. Your body craved release. “I’m gona—fuck.” 

Your body seized and your mind went blank as pure ecstasy washed over you. The chant of his name filled the space and you wrapped your legs around his waist, sending him impossibly deeper. Billy groaned feeling your pussy contract around him, his climax following close behind. With a last couple thrusts, he shuddered to a stop as he milked himself dry. 

Chest to chest, with Billy’s head resting next to yours on the pillow, you slowly came down from your high, unintentionally clenching his softening length as your breathing steadied. 

He gave your sweaty forehead a quick peck as he rose up, removing his hand from your throat. You had honestly forgotten it was there, so engrossed in how your lower half had been responding to him. Billy carefully slipped out of you and took care of the condom while you adjusted the bed sheets.

Then he approached you with his wallet and held out two bills. “For staying the night,” he offered. 

You shook your head while waving them off with a flip of your hand, not even looking at the number on them. You hadn’t checked the original amount he left in the envelope on the nightstand, but you figured he probably already paid more than what would be equivalent to the actual amount of hours you spent interacting. 

“Special deal; cuddles are free, tonight only,” you smiled softly. 

Billy returned a small, amused smile. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, I’m very comfortable,” you sighed, opening up the blankets to let him under, and settling into the crook of his arm. 

“Good, darlin’,” he replied with a yawn, his warm body pressed against yours, lulling you to sleep.

[hairstevington]

Freaky Friday (Steddie's Version) - chapter 4!!

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Eddie has a conversation with Robin that makes him realize there's a lot more to Steve's life than he originally thought. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Link to Ao3

Word Count: 3.2K, more chapters to come

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, canon universe (more or less) set before season 4, body swap, they are idiots, ANGST, revenge (attempted, see: they are idiots), POV switching

A/N: Omg not updating has been agonizing for me but it's midterm season and I just spent the weekend in NYC where I saw MAYA HAWKE IN CONCERT (!!!) She is amazing we love her, this one's for you Maya <3

“Uhhhh…” Steve didn’t even know where to start with his explanation. He looked around at the students bustling through the halls. “Maybe we should -”

“Drama club room, let’s go.”

Dustin led Steve through the hallways of Hawkins High to the drama club room. Once inside, Steve noticed the way the Hellfire table was arranged, including Eddie’s throne at the end of it. Steve chuckled to himself, thinking it was absurd. He really loves this power trip, doesn’t he?

Curiosity tugged at him, though, and a few moments later he was sitting in said throne to test it out. You know, to see if it was as lush as it looked.

(It was)

“Damn, this thing is cozy,” Steve said, admiring the soft velvet on the arms. 

“Watch it - if Eddie finds out you sat in his chair he’ll totally -”

“Technically I’m not sitting in the chair, he is,” Steve argued. “And he’s allowed to sit here whenever he wants, right? My actual ass is nowhere near this thing. It could be anywhere, actually. Maybe he got me arrested already or something -”

“Jesus, Steve - shut up about the chair and your ass and just tell me what happened already!” Dustin exclaimed, exasperated. “After I left. Then what?”

Steve recounted the story to the best of his ability. The bullies, the power plant, the lightning, the swap. He intentionally left out the shower thing, due to him and Eddie’s agreement. Thankfully, Steve had gotten pretty good at keeping secrets and pretending things never happened. 

“So, yeah. I went to school and he’s been at work now for uhhh -” Steve looked at his watch to double check the time. “Two and a half hours, just about. If he even went to work, I mean. I don’t trust the guy.”

“So you’ve said. Multiple times,” Dustin deadpanned. Steve winced at how much his dislike for Eddie annoyed Dustin, but it’s just the way it was. Eddie was kind of an asshole to Steve. 

“Sorry, I’m trying, man, but he just -”

“I know, it’s fine,” Dustin interrupted him. “Okay, so you swapped bodies. How do we get you to switch back?”

“If we knew that, we would have done it,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

“Okay, smartass,” Dustin replied. “So we look into when the next big storm is, and we get you guys back to the plant -”

“Woaaah, woah, woah,” Steve interjected. “You want us to get struck by lightning again? Dude, it like - it really sucked the first time.”

“So you just want to stay like this forever, then?”

“I’m just saying there’s gotta be other options,” Steve pleaded, desperate for Dustin to give him the real answer. The kid was smart. He’d figure something out. Preferably something immediate and painless.

“It’s just a theory,” Dustin replied. “Our first theory. It’s a start , Steve.”

“Fine,” he agreed. “So, we go track down a weatherman and ask him when we'll get lightning again or something?” Dustin sighed, squeezing his eyes tightly closed, then relaxed them.

“No, we don’t track down a weatherman. The weather is on the TV or in the paper, idiot.” Steve’s look of realization - raised eyebrows, mouth in an o-shape, slight nod - was one Dustin had seen several times on Steve’s face. It looked much different on Eddie’s. Foreign. Incorrect. 

Weird. 

“Oh, yeah that makes sense,” he replied.

“We’ll look up the weather later,” Dustin proposed. “But first, we’re going to the video store.”

-

Robin arrived at Family Video at 2:58pm - two minutes ahead of her shift. Eddie had been waiting patiently, adjusting to the boredom of it all, and finding joy in little things to pass the time. Keith had left around 2:30, but nobody had come in since then. He could have left too, but he didn’t. He considered it, but there was a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him to do the right thing. He hated that stupid voice. Eddie always felt like it didn’t matter whether he did the right or wrong thing, he’d always just get the short end of the stick either way. But, as much as he wanted to be the tough-as-nails asshole he presented himself as, and as much as he wanted to ruin Steve’s life, he knew deep down he wasn’t going to do anything. Eddie had ruined his own life. He knew what that felt like already, and he didn’t care to feel that downfall a second time.

So, a new tactic. He was going to be a good person. He was going to try to be a good person, anyway. ‘Kill them with kindness,’ right? He’d already proved that Steve sucked at his job, and that Eddie could do it better. What other ways could Eddie show Steve that he could be some preppy pretty-faced rich kid too, given the right resources? What if Eddie just…stole Steve’s life a little bit? Would that be so terrible? 

“Hey,” Eddie said as Robin entered the store. 

“Hey, Dingus.” She hardly looked at him as she sped past him to the back room. “You owe me for last night. That old guy we hate came in here and made me describe the plot of like ten different movies before settling on one again.” He followed her voice into the back room, where she dropped her backpack. 

“Yikes,” he responded, even though Eddie would have probably been happy doing that, depending on the movies. Robin joined Eddie behind the counter a moment later. 

“Okay, so - wait woah, ” she said once she looked at him for the first time. “Steve, your hair. What happened to it?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie knew exactly what she meant. It was frizzy and huge, with bits and pieces sticking up every which way. He looked like a mad scientist.

“You look like Doc Brown,” she said, echoing Eddie’s thoughts. He smirked. “And you’re smiling about it? Who are you and what have you done with Harrington?” 

For a moment, Eddie thought the jig was up already regarding his identity. He’d barely said anything and she knew by the hair alone. Figures, he thought to himself. 

He assumed she’d keep pestering him about it, but she dropped it immediately, to Eddie’s surprise. She started sorting the return bin, chattering away about her day at school. 

“Oh, yeah. I heard Mrs. Lipton is a total hardass,” Eddie replied after she’d finished complaining about a class policy.

“Steve, you literally had her last year,” Robin countered. “Did you stay out all night again or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Eddie said. “Right, yeah. I remember now - Mrs. Lipton’s class. That was torture.”

“It’s probably worse than when we actually got tortured,” Robin remarked, so casually that Eddie thought it must have been a joke. He thought about how Steve and Robin had worked together at the mall, and guessed that was what she was referring to.

“Definitely.” He hoped a generic, non-committal response would suffice. Robin was cool, but sometimes he didn’t know how to talk to her because she was just as sarcastic as Eddie, with far less energy in the delivery. He had no idea when she was serious.

“Although, I just remembered the bonesaw,” she said as she continued to shuffle through tapes. “Actual torture was worse. But only by a little.” She smirked, so Eddie did the same, but holy fucking shit? What?

There wasn’t a single way Eddie could make sense of that, unless it was some weird long-running inside joke. It had to be that. Right?

Right?!

A customer came in, successfully distracting Eddie from his internal monologue for the time being. 

“Hellooo, how can I help you?” he quickly asked, surprising himself at how well he’d adapted to the job. He finished handling the customer, intentionally asking Robin to ring them up so he could peer over her shoulder and double check how she used the system. 

Yeah, he’d been doing it wrong. Ah well. 

The customer left, and Robin sighed, searching for a new topic of conversation. She settled on -

“So, how’s Joanna?” She was leaning back on the counter, without a hint of jealousy on her face. Eddie wondered if she and Steve really were just friends, but he doubted it, for some reason. They seemed close, and kind of perfect for each other. They’d worked two jobs together, had weird inside jokes about torture, were brutally honest with each other…

It didn’t add up. 

“She’s good. Really good,” Eddie answered, having no idea who Joanna was. 

“Better than Maggie?” she asked. Eddie’s eyes widened. He knew Steve got around in high school, but he thought that after graduation he’d cooled things down. Especially after that Scoops Ahoy getup - Eddie hoped that Steve had lost his touch. He’d relished in the thought that Steve had peaked. But nope. 

“I dunno,” Eddie answered, lost in thought. He kept looking at Robin’s reactions. She wasn’t fazed in the slightest talking about Steve’s sexcapades. 

Robin was pretty. She was smart. Funny. Why wasn’t Steve going for her? Eddie couldn’t figure it out. At first he assumed Steve was leading her on, and that she had an unrequited crush on him that he held over her. But it didn’t seem that way, now that he was talking to her. Maybe they’d already had a history? Maybe they’d dated in the past and realized they were better as friends? But WHY -

“Steve, you’re so lucky,” Robin said with a sigh. “You’ve got all these beautiful girls at your fingertips, meanwhile I can’t even muster up the courage to look at Vicki for more than 5 seconds at a time or I feel like I’m gonna faint.” Eddie took in her words slowly, watching her as she hopped onto the counter and played around with the rings on her fingers. Eddie missed his own rings. He would have been fidgeting with them himself if he wasn’t occupying Steve’s ringless hands. “What?” she asked, after noticing him staring at her. Whoops.

“Uh, nothing,” Eddie replied. I wasn’t supposed to hear that. I’m not supposed to know this. He felt immediately guilty knowing Robin had come out to him basically without her consent. The ethics of it all were weird and complicated, but it still felt wrong. As she continued to talk about being put next to Vicki in the marching band and how excited she was for it, Eddie stared into the distance and tried not to let guilt eat away at him until he was hollow inside. 

“You’re acting…weird. Is everything okay?” Her question snapped him out of his own thoughts once again, and he nodded, meekly. “Steve, I know something is wrong. Spill it.”

Eddie wasn’t sure why he directed the conversation where he did. He just figured that, if he was headed to hell anyway, he might as well commit to it. Time for some answers.

“Can we talk about the time we got…uh…tortured?” Robin’s face was curious at first, before it shifted into sincerity. She nodded. 

“Yeah, we can. I just know we usually don’t mention it. Is that what’s going on today? Did you have another nightmare or something?”

God, their friendship was so precious it hurt. A half hour ago, Eddie would have been delighted to learn that Steve Harrington had run to his best friend about nightmares, but now it felt different. 

“Mhm, yeah,” Eddie answered. “The, uh. The bonesaw.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Robin replied with guilt on her face. Oh, no. Now I’ve made her feel guilty when I’m the one at fault here. Shit. Balls. Abort!

“Not your fault,” Eddie said quickly. “I promise. Just. That’s a really crazy thing we went through, you know?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” she agreed. “I mean, we’ve been through a lot, you and me. Secret spy messages, evil Russians, giant monsters, girls with superpowers, -” Oh, she’s got to be kidding me. No. That’s not real. No way. “- Dustin calling his girlfriend ‘Suzypoo’,” she finished with a smile. He’d heard about ‘Suzypoo,’ and the name made him cringe every time. Eddie would have laughed, had his entire mind not just been blown. 

Out of everyone at the school, Robin was one of the few who didn’t look down on Eddie. They didn’t talk much - only in passing, really - but she treated him like any other human being. And here, at Family Video, she was being incredibly kind to Steve. Eddie wasn’t sure if she would have treated Eddie the same, and now he desperately wanted to know. 

Here’s the thing about Eddie - once he had a thought, it ached in him until he acted on it. It got him into plenty of trouble, but otherwise he just felt…itchy. 

“Nah, you’re good,” he responded. I have to know. “Hey, so you know Eddie Munson?”

“Uhhh, yeah.” She was keeping up with his rapid switching of conversation topics with ease. “Why do you ask?”

“Just, uh. Just curious. Dustin talks about him all the time, you know.” She nodded in agreement. Eddie continued - he couldn’t seem to stop. “What do you think of the guy?” Robin was still unfazed by this line of questioning, somehow. Eddie felt a desperate urge to keep pressing until he felt resistance. The ache was insatiable.

“I think he’s - I guess I don’t really have an opinion?” 

This shocked Eddie more than anything she’d said so far, including the torture thing somehow. 

“You don’t have an opinion on him?” 

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a shrug. “Like, he’s just a guy. We go to school together. I don’t really know him.” 

Just a guy?! Eddie was offended for some reason. He’d never been referred to as just a guy before. 

“You’re not, like, scared of him or - you don’t think he’s stupid, or a freak, or a druggie, or, like, a future serial killer? You don’t think he’s insane or brainwashing the youth into some kind of satanist cult? None of that?” Those were the kind of descriptors he’d heard his whole six years (and counting!) at Hawkins High. Just a guy? Fuck no. 

“I never really bought into that,” Robin replied. “But it certainly sounds like you did.” She rolled her eyes. Oh my god, this is the coolest chick I’ve ever met. “Come on, Steve. I thought I knocked that bitchy judgmental shit out of you.” Please be my friend and not Harrington’s, I beg you.

“Old habits die hard,” Eddie responded. She still wasn’t fazed. One more question. “Okay, so like - hypothetically…” Robin huffed out a short laugh and turned to Eddie, waiting. “If we had never become friends, and we were all still in high school, who would you rather have been friends with? Me or Eddie?”

“This is about Dustin, isn’t it? Steve, for the last time, you don’t have to feel jealous or threatened by Eddie.” Wait, wait, wait. Hold the goddamn phone. Harrington is jealous of me??? He grinned, which probably made him look crazy, but he didn’t care. Steve, for whatever reason, was jealous of Eddie, and now he could die happy. “Dustin loves you, okay? You’ve saved his life - like, many times. Just because he has another older-brother figure at school doesn’t mean he forgot about you. I promise. ”

Well, that was a lot of information. He’d deal with it later, making a mental note to confront Steve about the torture and the monsters and the girl with superpowers and saving Dustin’s life the next time they saw each other. First, he had to get back to his initial point.

“Answer the question, Robin. Me or Eddie?” He could feel himself pushing his luck, going from annoying and quirky into rightfully suspicious territory. She groaned and rolled her eyes so hard she looked possessed. 

“You are such a dumbass, Steve. A few years ago? Yeah, it probably would have been Eddie just because you were such a douchebag in Click’s class. But then you and I were brought together by the great powers of the universe, - or, Scoops Ahoy and the Russians, I guess - and I found out you’re actually my platonic soulmate, and I’m here with you, dingus. Not Eddie. Can we move on?”

Before Eddie could even process the irony of her comments (and how giddy her answer made him), the front door opened. The pair turned towards it, ready to handle whatever customers were coming in. 

Eddie’s jaw dropped. He knew the people in front of him, and he had to say - he preferred the strangers. He was just getting a taste of this life, and he didn’t want it to end, yet.

“I honestly didn’t expect you actually to still be here,” Eddie watched himself say in the doorway. 

“Okay, what is going on?” Robin asked. “Why wouldn’t Steve still be here? Am I being pranked or something? Steve, you know I hate -”

“That’s not Steve,” Dustin said, pointing at the man beside Robin. Her face contorted into confusion. 

“What?!”

“You know?” Eddie asked Dustin, who nodded. 

“He figured it out,” Steve added. 

“Smart kid,” Eddie acknowledged. 

“I mean, yeah,” Dustin replied. “But Steve is also a really bad actor.”

“Shocking,” Eddie said. Robin pressed her fingers to her temples. 

“If someone doesn’t tell me what’s going on in the next ten seconds I swear to god I will -”

“Eddie and Steve swapped bodies,” Dustin explained, pointing at the two men. 

There was a solid beat of heavy silence. Nobody knew what to say. Eddie finally settled on -

“Uh, yeah. That is in fact what happened.”

He looked at Robin’s astonished face. She didn’t even bother going through the denial phase of all this - if what she’d been saying was true, she probably had just learned to accept all batshit insanity. Then, Eddie realized that must have been why Steve had been so passive about the whole thing the night before. The bodyswap thing was weird and awful, but it wasn’t, you know, torture by Russians.  

“So that’s why you were asking all those questions,” Robin deduced after a minute. “Wow. Wow, okay. But, like - oh my god.” Her expression twisted into pure fear. “Wait, but I told you -”

“I know,” Eddie said, his hands up in surrender. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m not gonna say anything, I promise.”

“What did she tell you?” Dustin asked, curiously. Eddie looked at Steve, who was also frozen. Eddie had to think fast. 

“About, um. The monsters,” he said while flashing reassuring eyes at Robin. She relaxed ever so slightly. 

“Yeah, sorry,” she said once she started breathing again. “I was telling Steve - I mean, I was telling him about - well, about what we went through over the summer, and I just -”

“That’s okay,” Dustin excused immediately. “Eddie isn’t going to tell anyone, right?”

“Cross my heart,” Eddie said, genuinely. Who the hell was he gonna tell, anyway? He briefly caught eyes with Robin once again, who stared at him tentatively. She was back to fidgeting with her rings, eyes darting from Eddie to Dustin to Steve and back again. “Promise.”

Her eyes found Eddie and stayed fixed on him long enough to accept his words as truth. Then, she nodded.

(next chapter)

___________________________

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[knee-stockings]

So I’ve been listening to lots of podcasts at work lately to break up the monotony of my office job. Mainly they’re horror, suspense/thriller, drama, that kind of thing. Trying to give ratings without spoilers~

(Check out updated pod recs here)

The Left Right Game (a journalist investigating an urban legend that gets increasingly more dangerous as they go): 5/5, this being one of the first ones I listened to set the bar really high tbh, it was great, immersive sound design, genuinely suspenseful and creepy moments, interesting plot, my only gripe is that I didn’t love the ending but I couldn’t dock a star just for that, highly recommend, maybe I’ll retire to Wintry Bay someday 

Alice Isn’t Dead (delivery trucker goes searching for her believed dead wife, comes across supernatural towns and creatures and a conspiracy that goes way deeper than one missing woman): 5/5, so so good, enjoyed a lot, I loved learning the truth about the Thistle men, still don’t completely understand oracles but that’s okay, some delightfully creepy moments, this will be high on my recommendation list (also it’s by the Welcome to Night Vale people, which I actually haven’t listened to lmao)

Harley Quinn and the Joker: Sound Mind (it’s a Harley Quinn origin story basically): 5/5, very enjoyable, sound design great, plot was fun, I don’t know how accurate this story is to the original Harley Quinn origin story but I liked this a lot

The Burned Photo (two women try to fight a familial curse haunting their bloodlines): 4/5, not bad at all, I thought the sound design was great and immersive but I thought the monster’s voice was a bit goofy idk, the plot wasn’t bad though ofc it was pretty bittersweet and sad in the end, tho I think it was never going to be happy for everyone involved

Blackwood (group of teens investigate the town urban legend and uncover more than they bargained for): I can’t decide…3.5 maybe? It was okay. I didn’t love it or hate it, I’m pretty neutral about it. It was interesting enough

Gaslight (girl goes missing and then reappears to her best friend years later with little explanation): 3/5, feels like there should be another season, wasn’t as dramatic/suspenseful as I thought it would be (maybe that’s my own fault tho, from the description and stuff I thought there would be more to it)

Ice-Cream (teens suspect the friendly neighborhood ice cream man of abducting little kids and uncover a dark secret): 4.5/5, interesting and a lil creepy, there’s something oddly funny about hearing someone scream “fuck you Beelzebub” even in context, sound design is pretty good and voice acting is great, finale was also pretty good but I’m docking half a star bc of that very last bit and bc I said so, overall short n’ sweet, no pun intendo (I’m kinda glad that it’s only the one season and not super long, gives the feeling of not overstaying its welcome. Also in awe that they made it within like a month, gonna go listen to their other podcast Cascadia too)

Cascadia (submarine expedition to uncharted waters, gone wrong, we almost died!?): 5/5, by the Ice-Cream people so I expected great sound design and voice acting and said expectations were met tbh, yes god love the drama, ocean depths are inherently scary to me so this is top tier horror, season one was chef’s kiss beautiful and I heard season 2 is coming so I’ll be waiting eagerly for that

Listening now:

Within the Wires (season 1 is relaxation cassette tapes from another world, season 2 is a guided museum tour I think): also by the WTNV people, interesting so far, the plot that unfolded in the first season was cool to watch as it played out, but also I am so sad. I like it so far

Rabbits (girl goes searching for her friend who disappeared because of this mysterious Rabbits game): feels like a really slow start after a few episodes, I kinda wanna get to more action soon please

Wake of Corrosion (apocalypse where characters are trying to find other survivors and also answers): mild shrug, not sure what to make of it just yet. Only like 2 episodes in so I think I need to give it a bit

Ars Paradoxica (scientist accidentally invents time travel and is thrown back to the 1940s): pretty interesting so far, science is fun 

Spoiler comment for Cascadia under the cut bc it's the one I just finished and I have Thoughts

As much as I enjoyed Cascadia, when I think about the expedition for more than 2 seconds I get confused. Not the whole alien thing, that’s fine, it’s Badger and Maria and their ulterior motives. Why in the world did Badger spend millions of dollars to make a submarine that’s faulty on purpose? And there was so much media coverage around it so the second something went wrong reporters were practically beating him over the head with microphones, so why risk so much bad press? Plus sacrificing three other talented divers who trusted him with their lives??? That’s the most confusing to me. There’s no way Badger foresaw them getting attacked underwater and losing Declan alone, so he must have been fully prepared to lose captain AND crew. Holden said that he saw Badger as a father, and yet he chose Holden to die? He said he handpicked them, so what did Holden, Alia, or Iris ever do to him to deserve being sent on a suicide mission? Doing all this just to get rid of Declan and be with Maria doesn’t feel right. Feels like there should be something more there. Tldr: surely Badger had another reason for conducting the suicide mission, right? Also since season 2 starts with Lila all grown up, a diver just like her father, I wanna know her opinions of her mother and of Badger. Did she learn about her mother’s betrayal? Is Badger still involved in funding deep sea diving or did the FBI take him out of that? Omg who’s the father of her little sibling…I’m so curious…