#so like that last part makes sense in context

[gin-juice-tonic]

book of bill discussion ish post about a single line in the book. Despite it being one line, its a bit long and rambly

So. Ford's "hes making it all up as he goes along" line. Is what I will be talking about

If you read the whole book, you already know this, but just as a recap:

In the book of bill, Ford has placed several pages of messages written by him addressed to any possible readers. These first set of messages offer an explanation of what the book is, and why you should not read it.

In the middle of the book he adds in another set of messages, this time chastising the reader for making it this far and then warning the you to stop reading further.

At the end he stops chastising you and admits he read it too, and how the books presence has been agonizing and embarrassing to him, and how he felt the need to hide it from his family. He goes onto explain how his family finds it anyway, and they laugh at the contents of the book, and at how desperate Bill is for attention. They all reiterate to Ford how they of course care about him despite his past of being manipulated by Bill, and Ford finds comfort and strength from his family and seems more ready to put his shame about Bill behind him.

The above "He's making it all up as he goes along." line is part of this last set of pages.

Something that is notable about its placement, is that the last sort of "story" that Bill tells the player in the book is the "missing journal 3 pages". After that, Bill tries to make a deal with you and is interrupted by Ford's final message here.

A few people have suggested to me that doyalist-wise, the idea the journal pages are fake hurts Ford's arc in the book. However, I think this line and it's placement, if the pages are not fake, hurts Ford's arc in the book.

One thing we know about the book is it changes contents based on the reader, so I do not actually think Ford *read* the "missing journal pages" in his own version, nor do I think his family saw them in theirs. However, I think the placement of the journal pages being basically right before Ford's final message is supposed to connect the two in our minds as the reader.

Like I have said above, Ford's arc is about being able to move toward putting Bill behind him:

If the journal pages are real, to me, Ford's comment ends up coming across as a sort of Denial (though likely inadvertent) of these pages, and calling Bill a liar regarding pages he supposedly wrote himself. This flies in the face of the arc that's been built up for Ford. If he does not care about what Bill has to say about him anymore and is ready to start moving on, and these pages are real, I genuinely believe this line should not have been included.

Rather, if the pages are fake, his comment is more of an acknowledgement. Ford does not care about what Bill has to say about him, he does not care that Bill may be spreading lies about him, he knows Bill is nothing but an attention seeker and Ford is not going to waste his time worrying about what he has to say anymore.

So I think, from the perspective of how the book was written regarding its structure and Ford's arc, this line only makes sense within the context of those pages truly being "made up" by Bill. Whether you agree or just think Alex made a poor writing choice there is up to you. (Though I would like to point you again to this interview clip from Alex. Note that he talks about "other perspectives in the book" to be paying attention to.)

...but that's my two cents on that.

[hannahssimblr]

Her shoulders begin to shake with her sobs. “I hate this,” she says. “I hate all this bloody change all at once.”

“I know.”

Startled, we both look up as the patio door opens. Evie slips out. Perhaps she is looking for me, but she diverts her course and begins collecting the empty plates on the table instead. She goes back into the kitchen. 

“Fuck sake,” says Jen, swiping at her face like she could shove the tears back where they came from. “Here I am, crying at you, after Evie’s already cried at you, and who knows who else, Jesus Christ.”

“It’s alright. There’s a kind of sad, crying vibe in the air these days.”

She laughs. “Except you, right? You’ve not shed a tear.”

“I’ve cried,” I say mysteriously. “Just not tonight.”

“You will.”

“I don’t think so. To be honest, I’ve been feeling a bit numb in general.”

“Makes sense. I wish I was.”

“No, you don’t.”

She rests her head on my shoulder. It’s a familiar, specifically Jen kind of action, the feel of that soft, warm cheek through my t-shirt and the smell of her shampoo. This action is one she’s repeated a thousand times before, like when we watch a film, or when she’s tired, or sad, or wants to talk about her day, or read a book with me and comment on it without context. I know it will be the last time for a while. 

“I’ll miss you,” she says. “I think I’m going to miss all of this time in my life when it’s gone.”

“Nah, things will get better than this. Don’t hold these years up as the best you’ll ever have. That’s depressing.”

“Do you think we’ll romanticise our teens some time in the future? Whether we’ll think about how young and gorgeous we were, all the fun we had, and give absolutely anything to get it back?”

I chuckle. “No. I’ve hated this mess. There’s barely anything I’d like to preserve.”

“Except me.”

“Yeah, except you, exactly as you are. Obviously. I’d keep you in a glass jar if I could and take you all over the world in my bag.”

Evie crosses the kitchen window with another handful of bowls, and we both watch her slot them neatly into the dishwasher. “And her,” says Jen. “You’d keep her too.”

“Jen.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“I think that if you had half a brain, you would.”

It’s true. This girl that I watch through the window, with whom I spent just a summer, has trusted me with her dreams. Those whispered to me in a parked, idling car. Her secrets, she revealed as we lay on the grass under a canopy of blossoming trees. There are parts of me only she has seen. I know that if the timing were different, and a girl like this would have me, I would build my world around her, but we’re too young, and by the time I met her, it was already much too late.

She flits around the kitchen until she’s cleared away the last dish, and then with idle hands, for one moment, she stands and stares out the window. I know she is looking for me, and won’t see me in the dark, yet I feel like there’s a frisson between us. It’s striking and strange. It’s some sort of knowing. We are watching one another with a stillness, like two animals of the same species spotting one another in the wild. 

Then she turns and is swallowed up by the darkened hallway behind her. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[stackthedeck]

hi!! I was wondering what happened to your t4t butch dean and trans cas fic?? Im really interested to read it if you still have it! butch dean is WAY to close to my heart. anyways have a nice day! <3

this has been in my ask box for literal months but I've decided to rewatch Supernatural (I'm not well) and I remembered this fic and this ask so... I'll probably never finish the fic or post it on ao3, but I did write this one scene and I like it a lot even though I like to think I'm a better writer now, but I wanna post it.

So for context this is happening in early season 5 where Sam and Dean are separated and also the plan for the fic as a whole was that Cas's complete separation from heaven was also mirrored by her gender journey, so Cas in this doesn't think of himself as a man, but has accepted that people view his vessel as a man and has excepted it. Basically, her egg hasn't cracked yet.

The road has been lonely since Sam left. Good lonely. For the first time in… well ever, Dean’s not playing mom or big sister. She’s just a hunter. A hunter who doesn’t have to look over her shoulder every second to make sure her baby brother isn’t getting maimed or hooked on demon blood. It’s good lonely… kind of.

It’s just that the front seat of the Impala is so empty and no matter how high she cranks the volume, the car just feels so quiet. The road just goes on and on forever. It sucks not having back-up on hunts, but Dean’s capable. According to the angels, she’s too important to die so she’s been pushing her luck lately.

The road hasn’t felt this empty since Dad went missing.

Dean’s pulled from her thoughts by a buzzing in her pocket. She pulls out her phone and sees a familiar number on the screen. The last time Dean ran into Cas, she gave him a burner phone so that they could keep in touch.

“Hello?” She says, phone wedged between his ear and shoulder.

“Dean, it’s Castiel,” Cas’s voice says from the phone, “where are you?”

“On the road.” Dean looks around for a mile marker, but it’s in the dead of night and there are no streetlights. Dean rambles off the interstate road she’s on and takes a wild guess at what mile she’s at. “I can pull off at the next exit if it’s important.”

A woosh of air and a flap of wings reverberate through the car. Dean looks over and Cas is in the passenger seat. “You don’t need to pull off,” Cas says into the phone as he stares at Dean.

Dean huffs and hangs up the phone, shoving it back into her pocket. “Any updates on God?”

“Nothing since the last time I saw you-” Cas sighs and looks out the windshield “-but I’m still looking.”

“If there’s nothing new—” Dean drums her fingers on the steering wheel “—then why are you here?”

Cas does his head tilt and Dean pointedly keeps her eyes on the road. Sure, she finds Cas’s clumsy attempts at expressing emotion cute, but it’s cute like a baby or a puppy. “I sensed that you were lonely.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Whatever happened to not perching on my shoulder?”

“Things are different now.” Cas’s words hit Dean’s ears with such certainty and finality, but she doesn’t feel like they’re true. Things are exactly the same. She’s still saving people, hunting things. It’s the family business, just without the family. Okay well, maybe things are different.

Dean does her best to keep her eyes on the road, but the highway is empty at this time of night. It’s so easy to let her eyes drift to the angel in her front seat, silhouetted by moonlight. His face is stone, that typical neutral expression, but Dean can see in his eyes that something is eating at him.

“So sitting here in silence is your grand plan for making me less lonely?” 

Cas shifts in his seat, his tie suddenly becoming very interesting. “Can I ask you a personal question, Dean?”

Dean does her best not to sigh. This better not be a chick-flick moment or worse yet, a Christian movie moment. “I thought you already knew everything about me? What with the rebuilding my soul and all.”

“I want to hear it from you.” Cas drops his tie and meets Dean’s eyes.

Dean nods, pursing her lips. “Alright, shoot.”

“How did you decide to…” Cas hesitates “...decide to… not look like the other females of your species?”

Dean laughs. If Cas had asked her that a month ago, she’d assume he was trying to get her to grow her hair out and start wearing pink. But she trusts Cas, trusts that he likes that humans don’t perfectly line up with God’s vision. “You mean, why am I a lesbian?”

“No, I understand that,” Cas says, “women are very pleasing to look at.”

Dean smiles. She’s surprised that the strip club incident didn’t turn Cas off of women or just humans in general.

“So, why am I butch?”

Cas nods. “Yes, I believe that is the term.”

“I don’t know, I just am.” Dean drums her fingers against the steering wheel. “Sam took a gender studies course when he went off to college, he probably gets this stuff more than I do.”

“Well, I want to hear it from you.”

Dean sighs and rubs at the back of her head. “I don’t know, I guess Dad was a real traditional guy. From what I remember, Mom cooked and cleaned, took care of me and Sammy and Dad went to work. I don’t remember much of Mom, but I remember being in the kitchen with her and her handing me baby Sammy to hold while she was busy. I didn’t mind those things because I was with her, you know?”

Dean stares through the windshield, watching the landscape blur as the car speeds past. “And then Mom died and Dad still went to work. And suddenly it was just me and baby Sam alone in motel rooms for days. I think Dad was so caught up in his revenge that he forgot that Sam and I needed a dad and a mom. So I started cooking and looking after Sam because if I didn’t we’d starve.”

Dean can feel the words spilling out of her like a busted dam. She’s never told anyone any of this, but now that she is, she can’t stop.

“I think Dad expected me to be the new mom. He’d come back to the motel rooms from hunts or from bars and be furious if there wasn’t something to eat. And it’s not like he ever went grocery shopping. He’d just leave a credit card—that barely ever worked by the way—or cash and expect me to figure it out! I couldn’t stand that he treated me like his little wife. Then, Sam started looking at me like I was his mom and not his big sister.

“It didn’t help that I looked like Mom. I have her eyes, you know. And when I was younger I had long curly blonde hair. Sam liked to brush it, which was good because I didn’t. I think it was soothing for him or something, but that’s probably why he keeps his hair long now.”

Dean’s rambling. She knows she is and she’s doing it on purpose because she doesn’t want to say what comes next. Cas’s eyes are fixed on her, but Dean’s not taking her eyes off the road. She could stop talking, change the subject, or give an easy answer. But if she doesn’t tell Cas right now, she’ll never tell anyone. And it’ll just keep festering and rotting inside of her.

“Dad would run his hands through my hair and tell me how pretty I was when he was drunk. It creeped me out, always made my skin crawl. He never… you know… did anything. He’d look at me the same way he looked at old pictures of Mom. I know it’s not true, or at least I don’t believe it’s true, but I feel like he only saw Mom when he looked at me. I wasn’t his daughter, I was the ghost of his dead wife. A ghost that he couldn’t salt and burn.

“And he treated me like I was going to go up in flames like Mom. For god’s sake, Sam learned to shoot a gun before I did! Dad wouldn’t take me on hunts, wouldn’t train me because if I was alive he could pretend she was too. One day I couldn’t take it anymore. I stole Dad’s clippers and buzzed my head.

“And boy, was Dad mad.” Dean winces, squeezing the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white. “He was really mad. But suddenly, he didn’t care if I went up in flames. He put a gun in my hands and took me on hunts. And it felt amazing.”

Dean smiles at the memory of the first time Dad clapped her on the back and bought her a slice of pie after a successful hunt. She can still feel that warm swell of pride after her first ghost, first vampire, first demon.

“My hair started growing out and it looked bad, like so bad. But Dad started hiding his clippers so I just had to let it grow out. Then one day he dropped me and Sam off at Bobby’s place and he took one look at me and gave me my first crew cut.”

Dean looks at herself in the rearview mirror. It’s kind of embarrassing that she’s had the same haircut since she was fifteen, but if it ain’t broke. “I remember looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, that’s me. I didn’t look like Mom anymore, I was just me for the first time.”

Dean feels wetness on her cheek and realizes that she’s crying. They’re not tears of sadness but of relief. Man, it feels so good to get all that off her chest. But still, she always ends up crying around Cas and she really can’t make a habit out of this.

“Thank you for telling me that, Dean.” Cas’s eyes aren’t trained on Dean but on his own reflection in the windshield. “I suppose I just have one more question.”

Dean shakes her head but smiles. Might as well continue this chick-flick moment. “Go ahead.”

“How does Dorothy shorten to Dean?” Cas tilts his head. “I’m unfamiliar with the nuances of human languages.”

Dean laughs at that, a good hard laugh that echoes through the car. “It doesn’t, not really.” Dean claps a hand on Cas’s shoulder, unable to stop grinning. “Sam was a little shit when I buzzed my head and he called me random boy names to get under my skin. I always liked those old cowboy movies so, whenever we’d play cowboys, Sam called me James Dean. The joke stuck and now I’m just Dean.”

“Huh,” Cas says, “you’ll have to show me those movies sometime. I’ve never seen a movie.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Cas,” Dean says, “we’ll have a girls’ night, paint our nails and watch cowboy movies.”

He’s joking but Cas doesn’t get jokes. “I would like to do this girls' night with you.” That’s a hint of an excited smile on Cas’s face and it makes Dean’s heart flutter. In the same way that puppies or babies make her heart flutter, of course.

“It’s getting late,” Cas says, turning towards Dean, “you should stop and get some rest.”

Dean shakes her head and sighs. It is late, really late, and she’d kill for a bed right now. “Wish I could Cas, but there aren’t exactly a lot of motels around.”

Cas frowns, furrowing his eyebrows. “I could drive,” he says after a moment of thinking, “and you can sleep in the backseat.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “You ever driven before?”

“No,” Cas says, “but I’m an angel of the lord, it can’t be that hard.”

“Tell you what,” Dean chuckles, “you give me an angel blade, and I’ll let you drive.”

“Dean, we’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

…

When God created the angels he named them. Each name was unique and divine, but it also gave God power over the angels. The angels did not have the power to create, to choose so they took the names with gratitude. When Lucifer rebelled, he took new names: Satan, Morning Star, The Evil One, and many others. Castiel has not rebelled against God, just against heaven. When he finds God all will be set right. Castiel is keeping his name as a promise. He has not fallen…just questioning.

Castiel may see the importance of names, but the Winchesters do not. Sam is not Samuel, the name his mother gave him to honor his grandfather, he’s Sam or Sammy, or a million other strange words that Dean hurls at him. Dean is not Dorthy, the name her father gave her to honor her grandmother, she’s Dean. Cas is not Castiel anymore, he’s Cas and so much more.

Dean’s been calling Castiel Cas since their second meeting, it’s just a shortened version of his name; it’s not a big deal. But then… Cas is sitting in a diner with the Winchesters late one night, trying to track down the horsemen. The siblings are eating burgers and Cas has one in front of him too. He doesn’t need to eat, he's an angel, but he’s curious. He’s curious about a lot of things lately.

“Pass the ketchup, Cassie,” Dean says through a mouthful of food.

“What?” Cas looks up from contemplating his burger to stare at Dean.

“I said pass the ketchup?” Dean frowns, but then just reaches across Cas’s chest to grab the bottle at the end of the table. “Never mind, I got it.”

“No-” Cas swallows nervously “-I mean what did you call me?”

Dean and Sam put down their food and exchange glances. “...Cassie?” Dean says slowly.

Cas still doesn’t understand facial expressions. Humans read so far into a tiny movement of facial muscles. So he keeps his face very still. When Castiel was just a fledgling, Gabriel, Balthazar, and the other older angels would call him Cassie. Fledglings weren’t ready for the full responsibility of their names, so it made sense. But Gabriel continued to call him that well into his adulthood. It was sweet, made Cas feel seen and seen by someone so powerful and important as an archangel. And then Lucifer fell and angels got much more serious about names.

“It’s like Sammy,” Dean says, awkwardly bumping her shoulder into Cas, “are you good with that?”

Cas looks between Dean and Sam, unsure of what to say. He’s created tension, he can feel it, but he’s not sure how to fix it.

“Hey don’t worry about it, Cas,” Sam says a little too loudly, “you’re a grown man and it’s weird to be called something like Cassie or Sammy.” He shoots a tight-lipped frown at Dean.

“Bitch.” Dean reaches across the table to steal fries off Sam’s plate.

“Jerk!” Sam attempts to swat Dean’s hand away, but misses and Dean ends up trying to stick her tongue out at Sam and eat fries at the same time.

“I’m not a man, I’m an angel,” Cas says, looking toward Sam. “But, it’s fine,” he says, mostly to prevent any more petty squabbling. The nickname is a sign of sibling affection, both in heaven and on earth. It doesn’t matter that the way Dean said it makes his heart race and his mind reel. “Cassie is fine.”

“Well, Cassie-” Dean smiles at him “-are you going to eat that?” She doesn’t wait for a response, just snatches the burger off his plate.

And the things Dean calls him only got worse from there.

…

When Cas first met Dean, she accused him of being a “prince charming” and at the time Cas wasn’t sure what that meant, but he’s starting to get the picture. Something about saving someone only to be rewarded with a relationship. That’s not Cas.

He’s in the far corners of the globe looking for God, when he hears Dean’s voice. It’s a quiet voice in his head, but it is powerful and desperate. A prayer. Cas is close to God, he can feel it. If he just keeps going a little longer, he’ll finally make it. But Dean’s voice is in the back of his mind, calling, pleading.

Cas flies to Dean without another second of hesitation. As he gets closer, the details of the situation flood into his mind in an instant. From a human perspective, Dean and Sam are in the basement of an abandoned mansion, surrounded by people, baring gruesome smiles with knives and fists drawn. From Cas’s perspective, Dean and Sam’s souls shine in a haze of demon smog. Dean’s the brightest, familiar in it’s golden hue.

“Cas, we could use some angel mojo down hear!” Dean shouts, voice thick with blood. “...Please!”

The demons laugh like in a chorus of gnashing teeth. One steps forward, kicking Sam—who’s barely clinging to consciousness on the floor—as he moves to grab the front of Dean’s shirt.

“Scream all you like, little girl,” the demon whispers, his breath hot against Dean’s face. “The angels don’t take calls from the likes of you.”

Cas appears suddenly, hand on the demon’s head, smiting the creature inside its meat suit. Dean actually smiles when she sees him, not even looking at the shell of the demon that falls to the floor.

“You came,” She says, unaware that it holds the same power as a prayer.

Another round of hideous laughter comes from the gaggle of demons. “Oh, how the mighty fall,” another demon cackles.

Cas’s stomach drops. He’s not fallen, he’s still doing God’s will. How can protecting Dean not be his purpose?

“Dean Winchester,” the demon continues, “damsel in distress waiting for a prince to save her.”

Dean, despite three broken ribs, a twisted ankle, and several lost liters of blood, sprints at the demon, burying the knife in his chest. She moves to attack the next closest one, limping as the adrenaline wanes. Even so, she’s a machine and Cas watches her with aw.

“Cas,” Dean shouts, “a little help here!”

Cas bolts into action, smiting demons almost as fast as Dean can stab them. Once they’ve killed all the demons, Cas stands with his arms pressed to his side, watching Dean pull her knife from the final demon’s throat.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says.

Dean places a hand on her chest, cradling her broken ribs. “For what? You totally saved our asses there.”

“I do not wish to belittle you,” Cas says, “what that demon said, if I ever—”

“Can it, princess,” Dean says, “it wouldn’t be the first time a demon tried to get under my skin.”

Cas nods then steps forward with his hand raised to heal Dean. She nods back and that’s all the permission he needs to press his fingers to her forehead, healing her instantly.

Sam groans from the floor.

Dean jumps away from Cas, staring at her brother. “Umm, maybe take care of him too.”

“Yes, please,” Sam gasps, weakly wiping blood from his mouth.

Cas leans down, healing Sam as well. Sam stumbles to his feet, glaring at Cas. 

“Did you seriously heal her first?” Sam scoffs. “After she called you princess?”

“I did not!” Dean says.

“You totally did,” Sam says. “Cas, you’re just going to take that?”

Cas cast his eyes downward. He didn’t take any insult from it, but it seems he should have. “I am still unaware of human social rules, but Dean has made it clear that I am not to be her prince charming.”

“Yeah don’t be friggin’ sexist, Sammy.” Dean walks over, swinging an arm around Cas’s shoulder. “Cas is our princess in shining armor.”

“I believe I am wearing a trench coat.”

After the incident, Dean teases Cas by calling him princess. It’s just another nickname that makes its way into the many the Winchesters use for him. For the first month, Sam tries to get Dean to cut it out, but eventually, he gives up. Cas thought that Dean would drop it once it no longer annoyed her brother. It’s only when he has this thought does he realizes he doesn’t want her to stop. 

But she never does.

…

“Hey, angel,” Dean greets, shoving his shoulder the same way he shoves Sam.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says, “I do not call you human.”

“She’s flirting with you,” Sam shouts from over the impala.

“Bitch,” Dean shouts back.

“Jerk.”

Cas looks down at his vessel. He doesn’t like it being called angel, there is nothing divine about this meat suit—as Dean so often calls it—it simply carries his grace while he’s on earth.

“Cas? Earth to Cas? Cas?”

Cas startles, looking up to realize he had tuned out another Winchester argument. “What?”

“You don’t mind when I call you angel, right?” Dean says with a smirk. “You think I’m funny right?”

Cas stares into Dean’s eyes, swallowing thickly. A part of him knows—no, hopes that Dean does not see his body as him. Perhaps she knows better than anyone that what body one happens to inhabit does not define them.

“I don’t mind your nicknames, Dean,” Cas says, “but I do not find them funny.”

…

“Dean, I feel ridiculous,” Cas says through the door.

Dean waits in the hallway outside of Cas’s room.

“No you don’t,” she says, “you’re just worried I’ll think you like ridiculous.”

“What’s the difference?”

Dean chuckles at that, shaking her head.

“How do you feel, Cas?”

The door opens and Cas steps out.

“...I feel good,” she says.

She’s dressed much the same way she did when she thought she had to present her vessel as a man. But now with all the angels locked in heaven and Cas is very human, her body isn’t a vessel. It’s her. They’ve traded the slacks for a pencil skirt and nylon tights and replaced the shirt and tie with a white blouse. She’s been growing her hair out since she turned human, mostly by accident, it’s still not as long as she’d like it, but it will be. Dean’s been helping her get a smooth shave every morning and showing her what lotions to use to keep her skin soft. But Dean was never great at being a girl, so what perfume and makeup to use has been left to Google. They’re working on getting her on HRT, but it’s not like they have insurance. They have also considered a couple of spells too.

And she’s still wearing the same trench coat.

“How do I look?” Cas asks.

Dean steps forward, taking her hands in hers. She plants a kiss on her lips, soft and sweet with lipgloss.

“Like a baby in a trench coat,” Dean says, “my baby.”

[archliches]

everything immediately proceeding and following the part of "the last days of judas iscariot" where judas spits in jesus' face, btw. if you even care.

[eggwishing]

little peek at somethjing i am cooking up ...

[sonknuxadow]

every time someone tries to make the i love captains scene in sonic prime about that one pirate shadow costume that has never been relevant to anything ever while completely ignoring that knuckles was the captain actually being discussed there an angel loses its wings

[magentagalaxies]

i really want to start making a table collecting statistics on the audience demographics i'll perform my aubrey material for (like what generation most of the audience is, whether i'm performing in a predominantly queer space, etc.) and how well the jokes land bc like. i need to collect more data points before i can properly present my findings but the results so far have been fascinating

[elegyofthemoon]

sorry to honkai post again but i finished reading divine key last night and got sad about fu hua i know that fu hua doesn't remember anything about her past but there's just something about the way that she, like kiana, had lost her mentor and that her mentor also bears the same name as kiana

and i think about how fu hua was the one (in some form) to tend to/protect kiana while she was in hiding after she regains control. i can't remember the dialogue exactly but like. did fu hua know what she was saying when she was trying to push kiana forward? are these words spoken from a life long forgotten - an experience that she faced but is only rooted now into her character?

idk fu hua as a character always makes me kinda 🥺she has such a cool concept so it's really cool to see the different lives that she had lived before we got to meet class monitor fu hua she's so cool

[clembian]

i will never ever recover from that

[mosspapi]

Can't decide if this dude in my studio course is well-intentioned but ignorant as fuck, or just straight up a bigot :(

[captainmoonlite]

i am being so so normal rn*

*thinking about the way both cat and marwood are the children of fifth monarchists. the way that both end up tied to and having to care for older men whose minds are worn down by both age and time spent in prison. the way those same men become more extreme and show more hateful views towards women as time passes. the way both cat and elizabeth cromwell have absentee fathers who missed most of their adolescence and fled the country for entirely different reasons. the way neither of them found the place or trust to find what they had in common because they were too occupied keeping secrets and trying to protect themselves and their loved ones. the way that the recent wars and the religious/political divide they created has continued to linger and affects so many elements of so many people's lives

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Big Mama's Dialogue

I've heard a few people lament on how Big Mama is difficult to write because of how she speaks, so I thought I'd share my tips and tricks.

I start out by writing what I intend for her to say without the flowery language added on. For example:

"I look nice in the new jacket I bought."

Doesn't sound like Big Mama at all, but it'll help you have a place to start so you don't have to be intimidated by scrolling through thesaurus.

Now, Big M has a tendency to do the following:

Use outdated American slang (anywhere from the 1920's to the 60's)

Apply alliterations (using the same letter at the beginning of a word to the adjacent/close word)

Use adverbs, so describing words with the end suffix -ly (i.e. softly, mysteriously, quickly)

Sprinkle in a few made-up words

So let's take the base sentence I provided an shape it to Big M's standards.

Resources for American slang:

Instead of word vomiting out all the outdated American slang I know, I'm going to link some resources/websites you all can look at and come back to. She mostly uses 20's slang, so the links are centered around that.

1920's slang PDF, alphabetically organized!!!

List of slang phrases originating from the 1920's to the 2010's

Short list of slang flapper's from the 1920's used

So let's edit our base sentence a little, now it's:

"This new jacket I bought is the cat's meow."

Adding the next layer:

I did mention that Big Mama tended to use both alliterations and adverbs in copious amounts, but don't feel pressured to use both at once in a sentence. If it fits, it fits. If it doesn't, some trimming might be useful. This is why having a base sentence is important, so the intention behind the dialogue isn't lost under all the additions you're adding. So with that in mind, I'm going to alter our example:

"This new jazzy jacket I just bought is the cat's meow."

The last part:

I save the "fake words" part for last, because beginning with them can make your sentences clunky or not make sense. This part really relies on your personal touch or the context and tone of the situation at hand. The example I gave make Big Mama sound like she's preening about her looks, so I'm going to lean into that.

"This newsie-woozie jazzy jackety I just bought is the cat's meow! Grr!"

And for comparison, here's where we started.

"I look nice in the new jacket I bought."

And well, that's it!!! Hope it was helpful to those that needed it!!!

[awearywritersworld]

my very soul demands you

sukuna x reader summary: you introduce sukuna to cuddling and romance novels. meanwhile, he's still struggling to make sense of his feelings for you, despite wanting to commit murder because another man had the nerve to touch your arm (which earns him a lecture from yuuji). w/c: 2.5k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst to fluff. jealous!sukuna. aged up!yuuji. features yuuji x reader. cursing. banter. hopefully not too ooc for sukuna. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it'd flow much better with the context of the previous two parts. lots of denial and begrudging softness from sukuna here. definitely more fluff than anything tho. this series has been fun to write, so thanks for reading<3 i appreciate reblogs or feedback! let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any additional parts. series masterlist // masterlist

when you crawl in between sukuna's legs and curl up against his chest, it's a foreign experience that makes his body stiffen.

he'd been with countless women during his lifetime, but while fucking is one thing, he never once found himself in a position that struck him as this... intimate.

"hold me," you whine as if you can sense his unfamiliarity with such matters.

he rolls his eyes, beginning to wonder if your habit of throwing orders at him is actually some sort of compulsive need. "didn't anyone ever teach you manners?"

despite his irritation, he acquiesces to your demand and once he envelops you in his arms, some of his rigidness dissipates.

you hum contentedly. "isn't that better?"

"it's tolerable," he asserts, his chest vibrating against your cheek.

"whatever you say." tangling your legs with his, you turn your attention back to the movie you've both been watching.

he doesn't understand this... tedious display of affection, nor does he particularly enjoy it... right?

and he only allows it because he can't rid his mind of the image of your tear stained face... right?

yeah, that has to be it. he figures he can endure this, given that he was the reason you were so upset earlier.

it goes without saying that he doesn't realize it when he begins to rub absentminded circles on your back.

and the way the warmth of your body forces his usually tense muscles to relax goes unacknowledged.

when the credits begin to roll, sukuna's wearing an expression of unimpressed disinterest. "that's seriously how it ends?"

you don't respond, so he looks down only to find that you're fast asleep.

"tch. you ask to watch a movie, force me to pick it, and then you don't even have the decency to stay awake." he's not sure why he's chiding you even though he knows you can't hear him, but he keeps his voice low enough that it won't disturb you.

sukuna's spent more time than he cares to admit watching your sleeping form, but this is the first time that it's actually him you're pressed against. it's the first time he can reach out and touch you.

your hair has fallen across your face, so he pushes it back behind your ear gently. the pads of his fingers brush against your cheekbone, a ghost of a caress, and his gaze lingers on your parted lips.

he lets out a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from you. "impertinent brat."

reaching for the remote, he flips off the tv and casts the room in darkness.

upon waking up in the morning, yuuji's confused once he notices that he's on the couch and you're sleeping against his chest.

he may have been half asleep when he arrived home, but he's still positive he went to bed. stretching his arms above his head, the movement jostles you from your slumber.

"mornin', baby."

"good morning, yu," you yawn in response, shifting to sit up.

"how'd i wind up on the couch?" he asks, though he's already got an inkling of the answer.

"oh," you blush. "sukuna kind of made an appearance last night."

"that so? how'd it go?"

you think there might be a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips. is he teasing you?

"good," you offer. "we watched a movie."

"watched a movie with the king of curses," he muses before his face breaks out into a lopsided grin. "you sure are somethin', baby."

returning his smile, you lean in and press your lips to his. "hm. says you."

it's not uncommon for you to meet yuuji for lunch if his mission is short and nearby, and today is one of those days, so he eagerly makes his way to the cafe you agreed on.

he's still a few hundred feet away when he spots you through the window, chatting with a man he recognizes as your childhood friend.

his gaze drops to where his hand is wrapped around your forearm as you both share a laugh together.

it doesn't really bother yuuji, he trusts you implicitly and jealousy isn't an emotion that's really on his radar. the same can't be said for everyone, though.

sukuna watches on as well, his thoughts much darker than his vessel's. who does that wretch think he is, putting his hands on you?

you're not his to touch.

"give me control," sukuna growls, his mouth appearing on yuuji's cheek.

"and why would i do that?"

"so i can rip his heart out and gift it to her since he seems so interested in offering his affections."

"duuuude," yuuji begins, somewhat amused. "i don't think she'd be super crazy about you murdering her friend."

"fine," sukuna bites back, well aware that yuuji has a point. "but he can live without his filthy hands, can't he? perhaps i'll pull each arm from his torso—"

yuuji snorts. "you have some serious issues, man."

he can feel sukuna trying to take over and easily curbs the attempt, though that only fuels the king of curses' irritation. "my only issue lies in the fact you're allowing this to happen."

yuuji reaches the door, a bell chiming through the cafe as he pulls it open. "she's a big girl. she doesn't need either of us to dictate what can and can't happen to her."

once you see your boyfriend, your face lights up and you call out his name. you place a kiss on his cheek and snake an arm around his waist in greeting, and the space it puts between you and your friend is enough to keep sukuna from protesting further.

"you two have met, right?" you ask.

"yeah! hey, itadori! it's been a while."

"it has! good to see you, yamada."

"i'd love to stay and chat more, but i have to get going," he states, leaning in to give you a hug which you return. "we should all go out together soon!"

"absolutely not, you deplorable knave—" yuuji slaps a hand to his cheek before sukuna can continue and yamada gives him an odd look.

your eyes widen for a split second and you have to stop yourself from facepalming.

"what'd you say?" yamada asks, sounding a bit hesitant.

"i said absolutely, sounds like an enjoyable night!"

the men exchange a handshake before you and yuuji make your way to a table.

"sukuna, what the hell was that?" you hiss once yamada's out of earshot.

"i don't know what you mean," he responds smugly.

you meet yuuji's eye and he just shrugs his shoulders, but you swear the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

you can't imagine anything good coming from the two of them colluding with one another, but let it go anyway.

opening up your menu, you sigh in defeat. "if you say so."

"what do you mean you'd rather disembowel yourself?" you question the man sitting across from you.

it's becoming more commonplace to see those dark marks adorning yuuji's body during the nighttime hours. you sometimes wonder if he's letting it happen or if sukuna's just getting better at taking over, but you're too nervous to ask.

"do you need a dictionary? there's one over on the shelf—"

"no, asshole. i know what disembowel means! i just don't understand your refusal."

he raises his eyebrows at the obscenity, but doesn't comment on it. "i'm not reading some inane romance novel."

"but brontë's one of my favorite authors!"

"it makes no difference if it was penned by the gods. the thought alone is absurd. can we move on now?"

you don't respond. instead, you cross your arms and stare at the wall defiantly. your face is contorted into an expression that lets sukuna know you're clearly affronted.

"very mature, you silly little girl."

"sorry you find me and my interests so childish," you huff.

"oh, please. that's not what i said."

you continue giving him the cold shoulder, having no desire to argue further, but more than willing to die on this hill.

"fine, don't talk. it's no matter to me," he claims (despite it being the furthest thing from the truth).

as the minutes tick by, he keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye and exhaling dramatically.

eventually, he calls your name in an exasperated tone, and while it makes your heart flutter, you still don't spare him a glance. you just hold the book out for him and to your surprise, he rips it from your grasp.

"you're ridiculous," he grumbles, opening the cover to reveal the first page. "i hate you."

when he glances over to see you're beaming at him despite the insult, he adds (albeit half heartedly), "i mean it, brat."

the two of you sit in silence, each of you reading your respective books. a few chapters in, sukuna comes across the following conversation:

"do you know where the wicked go after death?" "they go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer. "and what is hell? can you tell me that?" "a pit full of fire." "and should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?" "no, sir." "what must you do to avoid it?" i deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: "i must keep in good health, and not die."

to your astonishment, you actually hear him chuckle, but when he looks over and finds your self satisfied smirk, any hint of humor disappears from his face in the blink of an eye. your hand quickly moves to your mouth to stifle a giggle.

"something you want to say?" he baits you.

"nope, nothing at all!"

two nights later, he's already nearing the end of the story and you refrain from commenting about how quickly he's made his way through.

you doubt he'd allow your current position if you had— you're laying on your side, your head resting comfortably in his lap, one hand occupying the space above his knee.

when you asked if it was okay, all he offered you was a clipped, "i suppose."

your hair is splayed across his thigh and your eyes fluttered shut a while ago. when he agreed to this, he didn't realize how distracting it'd be. his gaze flickers between you and the words on the page with embarrassing frequency.

he's decided what you call cuddling is absolutely suffocating. how anyone could actually enjoy it, he's sure he'll never comprehend. he can hardly concentrate on the novel that's right in front of him—

"read to me, 'kuna," you mumble, interrupting his thoughts. it surprises him that you're still awake.

he scoffs. "what do i look like? your personal audiobook?"

"you didn't even know those existed until like a week ago," you laugh. "c'mon, pleaaaaaase."

he stays quiet for a few moments, so you're under the impression he may just ignore your request. as such, you're exceptionally pleased when his voice fills the otherwise still apartment.

you think the sound of his voice is comforting, an idea that would more than likely make him cringe, so you keep it to yourself. after all, you don't want him to stop.

at some point or another, he begins twirling a strand of your hair around his finger whenever he's not turning the page, an action that seems to take place without his noticing.

occasionally he'll pause to ask if you're even listening. it's an odd feeling that blossoms in his stomach when you assure, "mhmm. every word."

as he reaches the second to last chapter, he reads a line that makes you question whether your heart's stopped beating. you're not sure if it's because of the tone of his voice, the words he's imparting, or some mix thereof.

"no—no—jane; you must not go. no—i have touched you, heard you, felt the comfort of your presence—the sweetness of your consolation: i cannot give up these joys. i have little left in myself—I must have you. the world may laugh—may call me absurd, selfish—but it does not signify."

he stops reading, as if he too feels the sense of unease that's invaded the air. against your better judgement, you turn to look at him. his eyes are glued to the page, almost like they're avoiding you, and his jaw is tense.

"my very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”

when his gaze finally lands on you, his expression is almost pained. it's a strange contrast to the warm fondness you spot in his eyes.

you quickly push that thought away, however. whatever you believe you may have seen, you're probably just deluding yourself. you know you aren't his least favorite person, but surely he'd never feel even half of that sentiment toward you—

your breath catches in your throat when his hand reaches up, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. he still marvels at the fact you don't shy away from his touch, that you're usually the one to seek out contact with him.

perhaps the story is not as asinine as he expected it to be. rochester presumes jane will find him revolting, yet she still agrees to be with him, even after his selfishness has been made plain to her. after the sins of his past have caught up to him.

no, no, no.

to be so desperate for some woman's approval, or her devotion for that matter, is despicable. rochester's nothing less than foolish and sukuna isn't anything like him.

but you're certainly like jane, aren't you? fearless, passionate, and determined: all things he can't help but find endearing...

gods, what is this turmoil? it's making him feel pathetic and there isn't an emotion in the world he hates more—

you distract him from his internal monologue when your fingers wrap around his wrist and bring his knuckles to your lips. "you okay?"

"of course," he mutters, pulling his hand away. "just trying to get past all the mawkishness."

"really? you think it's that bad?" you question, the frown on your lips igniting that ache in his chest that appears whenever you're upset.

"it's not terrible," he sighs, realizing there may indeed be one thing he despises even more than feeling pathetic. "although i don't understand how jane is so taken with rochester."

you seem to ponder this for a moment before shrugging. "love is weird."

"what a clever analysis."

you slap his chest playfully. "oh, whatever. just keep going, you're almost finished!"

and you're right. he does reach the end of jane eyre that night, but not before you fall asleep on his lap. he closes the book, running a finger down the creased spine and setting it down carefully. it's obvious you've read it several times.

admittedly, he can see why, but he'd be caught dead before he'd ever tell you as much.

left alone with his thoughts, he considers the impossibility of jane and rochester: a charming, headstrong woman and a cruel, arrogant man.

leaning forward, he whispers your name to make certain you're asleep, then places a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"..sweet dreams."

[rrrrinmaru]

calculated risk (but boy am i bad at math) (sylus x mc) (nsfw) pt 3 - finale

wc: 2.2k rating: E warnings: NSFW content, dirty talk, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, thigh fucking (intercrural), orgasm denial, penis in vagina sex, dom!sylus sub!mc, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, use of Evol, light choking, mating press, doggy, full nelson, creampie brief: you lose a bet to sylus and you have to do whatever he wants for 24 hours // recommended to read part 1 here and part 2 here for context

It feels like years. Sylus wakes you up with a mouth on your cunt, licking wetly at your pussy and sucking your clit into his mouth, eyes glittering with smugness as he stares up at you from between your thighs. He moves back the moment you arch your back, fingers winding into his hair in a weak attempt to hold him in place—he doesn’t let you cum.

In the shower, he slides his cock between your soaped up thighs and fucks you like that, the head of his cock slamming into your swollen clit with every swing of his hips. You’re gasping, hands scrabbling for purchase on the tiles while he brings the showerhead down to spray at your clit. Sylus’s other hand is squeezing your tit, fingers pulling sharply at your nipple and making you cry out. You’re close, fuck, you’re close. 

At the dining table, you’re on his lap. His cock is trapped under your panties, sitting against your wet cunt like a pulsing rod of heat. It slides against the seam of your pussy every time he leans forward to scoop something off the plate. Sylus feeds you, laughing lowly when you can barely stomach more than a few mouthfuls. You’re more focused on other things, like the heat coiling in your gut like a snake about to lunge at its prey. The lips of your cunt are spread around his cock, your hole clenching desperately against the base of his cock. 

Again, and again, Sylus brings you to the brink. He holds you there, like he has a hand on your throat, choking the orgasm off right at the tip. He keeps you right on edge, until your body is so overworked and so sensitive that even a brush of his shoulder against yours is enough to make you jump, pussy tightening at the slightest touch no matter how much you try to remind yourself that Sylus won’t let you cum. 

It makes you irritable. You want the high, the suffocating heat of something buried in your sweet cunt, something thick for your pussy to grip onto as you shudder through your orgasm, but Sylus dangles it just out of reach. You end up glaring at him more often than not, turning away to huff at the mere sight of him. 

But Sylus just laughs, one hand reaching out to reel you in, and proceeds to make you lose your mind before letting you go. 

“Sy–lus,” you choke out, fingers clutching weakly at the bedsheets. The fabric is completely crumpled beneath your grip and the pillow below your abdomen is soaked with sweat. Your legs feel numb, knees bent with your ass up as Sylus fucks into you with four fingers. He sets a harsh pace, licking at your clit as he slams his fingers into your cunt, hitting your g-spot with devastating accuracy. 

You’re going to tip over the edge. His tongue laps at your clit, lips closing around the swollen bud to suck on it harshly with a particularly vicious thrust of his fingers—it forces you up along the bed, hips jerking back to sit on his fingers before jolting away, as if your body can’t decide whether it wants to chase that pleasure or escape from it. 

“G’na cum,” you pant, barely getting the words out with how breathless you are. It’s a warning in every sense of the word—you think you might actually kill him if he stops halfway, but at the same time, something deep inside you wants to let him know you’re close. To let him know that if he’s going to stop, he needs to stop now or your mind will go blank from the way he’s sucking on your clit. 

Sylus gives one last kiss to your clit, teeth scraping briefly against the oversensitive nub before pulling away. It makes you yelp, the pleasure bordering on pain, but it’s so good, so fucking good that you can’t help but push your hips back in a bid to chase after his mouth. 

“Can’t have that happen, sweetie. Not yet,” he murmurs. But his fingers are still going, crooking inside your cunt and making you clench up every time they scrape against your walls. He’s fucking you like he intends to make you gush, like he’s ready to watch your slick drip out of your pussy, down his wrist, all the way to his forearm. Those clever fingers are punishing, demanding as they fuck into you, and your eyes roll into the back of your head when your pussy trembles once, twice—

Sylus withdraws his fingers in a flash. Your cunt clenches on nothing, hips squirming as you try to cling to his fingers even as he draws them out of you. There’s a loud, wailing sound in the room, and it takes you a good few seconds to realise it’s coming from your mouth. You’re sobbing, face buried in the sheets, gasping for your life at the orgasm that was ripped from your fingertips. 

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he gets to tease you like this, to bring you to the edge so many times and leave you wanting—it’s not fair that he gets to play your body like a fiddle, making you sore and achy and so desperate for cock that you barely recognise your face in the mirror. It’s not fucking fair—

“Easy, dollface,” Sylus laughs, one hand scruffing you on the back of your neck, fingers and thumb wrapping around your throat like a necklace. “Open up.”

And he slides in, home, all the way until his cockhead pushes against the opening of your cervix. The slide is wet from how soaked you are, and you’re tight despite how he fingered you for what felt like hours. His cock sinks into you, and you distantly hear the low groan he lets out as he fucks in, in, in until his hips slam against your ass and he just stays there for a moment, luxuriating in the feel of your throbbing cunt closing around his dick. 

You don’t make a sound. Your mouth is open, chest tight as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your limbs twitch, back arching as your hips move of their own accord, spasming around Sylus’ fat cock. It burns, like a fire eating you alive from the inside, so explosive it hurts. 

You cum from the feeling of his cock fully buried in your cunt, pussy gushing wetly and soaking the sheets. You shake apart, senses dulled as your entire world shrinks down to your cunt, your twitching clit, your pussy clinging desperately to the stiff cock inside you, stuffing you full. 

“Good girl,” Sylus says breathlessly from above you, fingers tightening around your throat. “I told you I’d make it good.”

The sound you make is indescribable. Sylus lets you ride it out on his cock, groaning whenever your cunt pulsates around his length. Right when your body is about to relax, to come down from it’s high, Sylus pulls out and slams back into you.

You shriek, entire body jolting from the electrifying burst of overstimulation that flashes white-hot through your body. 

Sylus doesn’t let up. He fucks you hard and dirty, like he’s putting all the pent-up energy from not being in your pussy for the past twenty-four hours to good use. He fucks like he’s desperate to bury himself in your cunt, to carve out a space for his cock that your pussy will remember for centuries even when he’s not inside you. 

The punishing pace shocks you right into your next orgasm. The pleasure never stops, just builds and builds until you’re pushed off the edge again, falling right into the throes of your second orgasm. 

“S-Sylus!” You cry out, voice hoarse from overuse. “Please, please—”

“I’ve got you,” Sylus growls. His voice is low, tight from exertion, but his hips don’t stop moving. His cock saws into you, the cockhead hitting your cervix and scrapping against your g-spot with such devastating accuracy that you can’t help how loud you get when you cum again, pussy squirting furiously around the hard cock inside you. “Again, sweetie.”

“C-can’t,” you gasp, desperately sucking in mouthfuls of air despite the grip on your neck. Sylus’s other hand is on your hip, holding you firmly in place as he fucks into your cunt, and you can hear him chuckle at the way your pussy drips slick. 

“What a messy girl,” he croons, slamming his cock deep into your pussy. It makes you shiver, overstimulation mixing with pleasure as it crawls all over your body, setting your nerve-endings aflame. “One more time.”

You exhale, body spasming as it obeys him. Your pussy clenches around him so tightly it makes him groan, and you feel like you’re coming apart at the seams when you cum again. 

This time, he fucks you slower, really letting you shake and shiver through the aftershocks of this orgasm. You’re a quiet, whining mess when he flips you over, cock still buried inside you, and you can barely force your eyes open to look him in the eye. 

“Cute,” he remarks, eyes glinting in the light as he reaches up to press a thumb against your parted lips. “Are you satisfied?”

You lie there, chest heaving as you try to gather your wits about yourself. Your cunt clenches weakly around his cock, clinging to the heat radiating off his length. If you could muster up the strength, you would maybe lift your legs in the air so he can get a better angle to fuck you with. 

But you don’t have the energy. You’re tired, vision blurry from sweat and tears, and you think you might need a few days to recover from this entire ordeal.

Sylus gives you a knowing look. His gaze rakes across your spread-out body, combing across every inch of you, and his gaze is so hungry that it makes you shiver and tighten up on his cock. 

He leans down, head dipping to position himself right at your ear. His hair brushes against your cheek and his breath blows against your neck. It’s too much. It’s not enough. You want to reach up and claw at his back but you don’t have the energy.

“I’m not satisfied,” Sylus whispers into your ear. His tongue darts out, tracing a wet trail along the shell of your ear. “I think you can give me a few more orgasms, sweetie.”

“Too—nngh, too much,” you breathe, voice stuttering when he rocks his hips into yours. “S-Sylus, I don’t—”

“You can,” he asserts, hands wandering down to grip you tightly by your hips. “Three more, and then I’ll kiss your pretty pink pussy until you soak my face. How about it?”

You moan, eyes fluttering shut at the mere thought of it. If Sylus says three more, he isn’t joking. He’ll fuck those orgasms out of you, whether you want to or not, and he’ll wring the pleasure out of your body until you’re a breathless, panting, limp body. Until your cunt aches and you can’t walk straight for a week.

Before you can answer, something pulls your legs up. Heat circles around your ankles, yanking your legs up and to your sides, knees coming to rest at your shoulders. Sylus pulls back just enough to hook the inside of his elbows around your knees, and he smirks down at you as he grinds into your cunt.

The slide is wet. So wet it’s absurd, so wet you can hear the squelching sounds from your dripping pussy. 

“Count for me,” Sylus murmurs, one eye shining a brilliant crimson. “I want to hear you scream my name.” 

He fucks you, over and over again, using his Evol to manhandle your body into different positions until you’re begging for mercy. You cum when he cums, at the hot sensation of his cum spilling into you, painting your insides white. You cum again when he holds you up, bouncing you on his cock with your tits pressed up against the window, clit rubbing against the glass, vision blurry as you look out onto the N109 zone. You cum one more time, slick dripping uselessly from your throbbing cunt when he fucks you while you’re on your side, one leg lifted into the air, his hand on your clit, the other hand groping your tit. 

Then he makes good on his promise, energy circling your ankles like cuffs as he holds your legs over your body, folding you in half so he can grip your ass and pull your cunt apart for him to lick into.

When you cum again, you think it’s a dry orgasm. Your pussy clenches and throbs, your clit pulsating weakly, but you don’t know if you produce any more slick or if your cunt is just filled with his spit and cum. You feel wrecked.

He mouths at your clit, carefully licking with the tip of his tongue while you shudder in his hands. When you come down from the orgasm, he pulls your legs back down and your body finally eases into the sheets. 

“Easy, sweetie,” Sylus repeats, but this time there’s a softness to his tone. His hands on you are gentle, tucking you into his chest as he lifts you from the bed. “I’ve got you.”

And despite all his sharp edges, all the snark, all the challenging—you think he does.

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[allisonreader]

She was surprised by what she saw when she woke up. Her childhood bedroom instead of her hospital bed with Jesse hovering nearby.

Her hands weren’t the aged ones that she was used to seeing but the firm smooth hands of her youth. This wasn’t what she had been expecting. Perhaps she hadn’t passed yet and was just dreaming…

Except it felt so real at the moment. Or could this be her perception of heaven to begin with? She really didn’t know.

Maybe if she closed her eyes for a few moments things would make more sense again.

She drifted off without meaning to. The next thing she knew was that she could feel someone sitting on the edge of her bed.

Jesse.

A cool cloth was place on her forehead. That didn’t make sense.

She slowly opened up her eyes only to find Nanna the one sitting on the edge of bed.

"Nanna?"

"Yes my dear. How are you feeling? Are you feeling a little bit better?"

"I- I don’t know… I had the strangest dream-"

"You’re still rather flush. You’ve been very sick my dear. A horrible way to spend your sixteenth birthday."

"Sixteen?"

"As of this past Wednesday. Your grandfather is rather upset at me that I won’t risk his health so that he could come in and wish you a happy birthday. I told him you were delirious enough to not notice and would understand once you were better. As well as that you’d be much happier knowing that he was keeping healthy. I know that you wouldn’t want him to get sick because of you. We’ll hold a party only once you’re feeling better and well rested."

Nanna rubbed her cheek.

"Do you think that you can try to eat something?"

She nodded carefully. Her mind spinning. Sixteen. How was she sixteen again?

She should be about Nanna’s age give or take a few years. If she was truly sixteen then Jesse hadn’t even officially started racing yet.

They hadn’t even met yet.

She still had school to finish.

Ruth would be alive at the moment… and had Nanna mentioned her grandfather? It was a lot to take in.

She hoped Jesse was doing alright. She wished she could see him. But if she was truly as sick as Nanna claimed, then she better focus on getting better first.

Would Jesse know her? Or would they be as strangers?

"Here you go Emily. Broth and a piece of toast. Hopefully that will sit well enough in your stomach."

"Where’s daddy?"

"At the offices. In a few weeks he’ll be going down to Georgia to see some of the tracks there."

"Do you think if I’ve recovered enough by then? Daddy would allow me to accompany him?"

"I think you’ll have to ask him, but I can’t see why not. Your grandfather might put up a bit of a fuss about it, but you can ignore him. I’ll be able to keep my husband busy."

"Nanna!"

"Mm, I dare say that you’re starting to sound much better my dear."

oOo

It was very odd being 16 again. Seeing Alex galavanting around and taking Bea to events again.

She wondered if things could change or if they had changed. She certainly didn’t remember having been so sick around her 16th birthday before.

She also couldn’t remember exactly which year her grandfather had passed. Certainly it was before this point? She shouldn’t complain about that though. Time with him was well spent.

Going to Georgia was something she was immensely looking forward to.

Hopefully she could at least catch a glimpse of Jesse.

She missed him so much. If things could change, then maybe they could meet so much earlier this time. Be together longer, maybe do something for Ruth…

Would he even know her?

xXx

He didn’t know what was going on. He was back in Georgia.

Feeling better than he had in decades. All his aches and pains were gone. His scars were gone and maybe most importantly, Ruth was alive. Seemingly less sick than she had been before at this time.

He didn’t understand how, but he was going to take it. Especially since both of their parents were alive?

The how was foreign to him. They weren’t even home currently.

Henry was home from college at the moment apparently and spending as much time with Joan he could get.

Things were topsy-turvy in what he knew.

He wasn’t even sure he should try racing, but it should hopefully put him in the path of Emily as long as that hadn’t changed.

He was going to risk it. Seeing the love of his life would be worth the risk of racing.

One that payed off better than expected. She was at the race with her father. Looking so very young, but then he’d look much the same.

Unlike his first race last time, this time he was pretty confident that he could do decent if not win the race again, if his skills had transferred along with his knowledge. He wasn’t the rookie he’d seem to be. He had his years of racing under his belt and the years as Lightning's crew chief as knowledge as well.

He wondered again since he was here, could Emily have also taken a similar journey. Only speaking with her would give him that answer.

This time when he heard his low odds of winning he just chuckled to himself. One day he might be the sure bet if he decided to race again. Which he just might have to.

Maybe he’d be able to avoid that race he wrecked in and have a longer racing career. Have a career to rival Weathers's maybe.

This race had to happen first.

He had forgotten over the years that Scott had loaned him a helmet this first race. It went about as well as it went the first time, though it was a bit less of a close race than it had been the first time.

If he had his Hornet, he’d have done better. It was enough to catch the attention of Edward Piston again though.

He and Emily had come up to him again much like last time, except this time he knew who Edward was from the beginning and he was much more interested in looking over a young Emily.

It would be rude to just stare at her, as much as he wanted to.

She didn���t seem to have quite the same problem and seemed to drink him in greedily. Her hands folded in front of her, one finger tapping her ring finger. He took that to mean that she was his wife, if he wasn’t misreading her.

He gave a similar motion and he saw her smile brighten.

He made sure to properly introduce himself and she made mention that she hoped to see him race again.

Well now he’d have to race, for her. Something he was more than willing to do. He had so much that he wanted to tell her.

That he had caused quite the stir in going back to Piston Cup. That here, in this slightly different world, both his parents were alive and Ruth didn’t seem as sick.

That would all have to wait until they had the chance to talk more in private.

xXx

Her Jesse was here. He recognized her.

She felt like she was floating on a cloud. Life could hardly be better. She couldn’t wait to see him again. Hopefully it wouldn’t take a year to do so.

She would do as much as her dad would allow her to with Piston Cup. She wanted to be as close to Jesse as she could be.

Maybe she should try racing this time.

She could probably get Nanna and her grandfather to persuade her dad to let her drive. That would probably surprise Jesse.

It would certainly be worth the look on his face. Even if she had to wait two years to do so.

She’d have to start working on that now to break him down. Maybe she’d start with telling her grandparents that she wanted to learn to drive first. They might be able to convince her dad easier than her.

"Nanna, I want to learn to drive."

"I think that’s a grand idea my dear. Isn’t that George? It’s very independent of her."

"It is. It reminds me of when you learned to drive there for a bit."

"It was a good skill at the time."

"Nanna? You know how to drive!?"

"I don’t know if you can call what I did driving dear. At least not by today’s standards. Automobiles were still quite novel when I tried to learn. It was a fun experiment, but I didn’t much care for the focus that was needed. I’d rather let others do my driving for me."

"That- almost seems out of character Nanna…"

"You would think that. Your grandmother would rather be able to talk and take in the scenery than have to focus on the road in front of her."

"There are more pleasant things to do than drive. But I see no reason that you shouldn’t learn if you want to Emily dear."

"We’ll talk to your father. I’m sure that’s your biggest concern."

"It is, thank you."

oOo

They did it.

Her grandparents managed to convince her dad to allow her to learn to drive.

Her biggest question now was how much did she remember from what Jesse taught her. Was she going to look too much like she knew what she was doing? Or would she be starting from scratch? She’d only know once she got behind the wheel.

Relearning to drive was easier than she remembered learning to be in the first place.

The teacher her father got for her was decent, but couldn’t compare to getting lessons from Jesse.

She missed him. Did he get his Hornet yet?

She should start writing him everything that she wanted to tell him. That way she wouldn’t forget anything that she wanted to tell him. Like how hard she was working to become a racer. Though she wanted that to be more of a surprise.

What was he doing now? Was he okay?

She begged her dad to let her come on any trips that might bring her near Jesse. And of course there were still the family trips to Radiator Springs as well.

Seeing Flo and some of the others so young again was refreshing. She was sure that she didn’t come off quite as spoiled or naive about life this time, though she was still quite sheltered at the moment, but she had lived a lot more life than she looked like she had.

She didn’t get the chance to see Jesse before he started racing again. But she certainly made sure that she was at as many races as she could be.

Using Alex as an excuse to get as close to Jesse as she could. One of the first times she went down she “got lost” just so she could run into Jesse.

"Excuse me? I think I got a little turned around. I was looking for my brother."

Jesse quickly turned to face her, trying to control the grin on his face at her blatant to him lie.

"Who’s your brother? I’m new to this myself, but maybe I can help."

"Alexander Piston."

"Miss Piston, it’s a pleasure to meet you again."

"Oh! You’re Mr. Hudson, from last year when daddy gave you his card. I am glad to see that you’ve decided to race this year."

They continued their conversation like that until they were away from the bustle and could speak frankly.

"I’ve missed you so much Em."

"I’ve missed you too."

"I wish I could kiss you, but if anyone saw us…"

"I know. Do you think we can write each other? I want to know everything that’s happened since I last saw you."

"I’d like that. …. After you passed Em, I did end up getting dragged back into Piston Cup by a kid. Had a rocky start with him, but he was a good kid. You would have loved him… Sally sure did."

"She found her one then."

"Yep, a trouble maker for sure."

"Sounds familiar."

"We should probably get back before people start to wonder where we went."

"I know. I don’t want to though. How has Ruth been?"

"Great. She doesn’t seem as sick, Henry’s actually in college and playing baseball, and my parents are still alive."

"Oh Jesse that’s great news to hear. I’m so happy for you. My grandfather is still alive. It’s brilliant for Nanna. She’s even more vibrant with him living."

"Sounds like good news across the board."

She just nodded as they started back towards where Alex was.

"Perhaps I will see you around Miss Piston."

"Thank you Mr. Hudson for helping me find my brother. Good luck in the race today."

"Thank you." She couldn’t help but watch him walk away.

"Who was that Emily?" Alex asked.

"Oh, he is just a new racer who helped me find my way over here."

"Dad shouldn’t let you be down here."

She just rolled her eyes.

"I’m careful. I happen to find all of this extremely interesting. Maybe one day I’ll be out there racing as well."

"It’s a man’s sport Emily."

"I don’t see why women couldn’t race too."

"Dad won’t let you."

"Nanna and granddad got him to let me starting to learn to drive. I bet if he saw another woman racing he’d let me."

"He won’t let that happen."

"I guess we’ll have to wait and see."

oOo

They did start writing each other and trying to catch sight of each other as much as possible at the races.

That first year she had even managed to sit with Jesse’s mom and Ruth which was thrilling for her. To get to know the woman who would have been her mother-in-law and to get to know Ruth, Jesse’s twin who he loved so much.

This time she made sure that they properly introduced themselves. She and Ruth quickly became friends after sitting with each other a couple of times.

So she had started exchanging letters with Ruth as well.

Becoming friends with her was one of the best things that could have happened. She’d never had someone she could talk to like she could to Ruth, at least, not at this age before. She’d miss sitting with her once she started racing.

xXx

He was getting a little anxious that he hadn’t seen Emily yet. She had written that she would be at this race, but she hadn’t stopped by yet.

"Hey Hud, have you heard the latest news?"

" 'Bout what?"

"Sounds like Miss Piston is trying her hand at racing this season."

"What!?"

"It looks like there’s going to be two of them out there."

"I’d hold off judgment of Miss Piston for now. She might surprise you. Besides, she’s nothing like her brother."

He got raised eyebrows at that.

"How’d d'you know that?"

"We’ve spoken before."

"She’s a kid isn’t she?"

"I dunno…" he wasn’t going to admit that he knew exactly how old Emily was right now, nor the fact that he knew her birthday. That she was only about 18 right now and that he’s three years older than her. Now he really wanted to see her. Was she truly going to race?

"Can’t believe her father is actually letting her race. His precious little princess."

He held back an eye roll. Yes she grew up spoiled, but she wasn’t a brat like her brother, at least not currently. He couldn’t speak for before they met. He just wanted to see her.

oOo

All her nerves were firing at once. This was going to be a completely new experience for her.

Her grandparents promised they’d be in the crowd cheering her on.

She was confident in her driving skills. She didn’t know if she’d be winning any races soon, but at least she thought that she could still could compete against the others.

As long as she could beat her brother one day, that would be good enough.

Hopefully she’d be able to break into one of the groups of the racers, preferably Jesse’s so that they could actually spend time together.

Well, now was the time to get moving and maybe see Jesse before they started. She’d like to at least walk by and give Jesse a wave. He was expecting her today.

As she passed Jesse and everyone one around him, she gave them a wave that was much more confident than she felt. Though Jesse’s wave back did warm her to her toes.

She missed him so much. She was so tired of being parted from him. Maybe they could have a whirlwind romance this time and get married before the end of the year.

Not that it actually would be a whirlwind to them.

It would just be getting back into their marriage. Maybe this time with everything that had changed they’d be able to have kids this time. Not that she didn’t love him even though they hadn’t before.

It didn’t mean she still didn’t want them. Anything was possible, right?

[azulpitlane]

vicious pt two I ln4

pairing: ex!lando norris x reader, charles leclerc x reader summary: you are trying to move on from lando but he refuses to notes: more dramaaa and asshole lando sorry, this is short cause i kind of got busy🧍‍♀️ part one, masterlist

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell and 3,268,379 others

yourusername emails i cant send is officially yours💌

it has been a long and emotional process writing this album but i loved and enjoyed every bit of it<3 im so excited to share this piece of my life with you and officially close this chapter and move on

thank you for the support, ill see you all soon❤️

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user OMGG IM ALREADY CRYING ITS SO AMAZING

user stfu is that charles in the fifth pic?!?

user it is!! he was credited in a few songs for instruments🥹🥹

user because i liked a boy hits so different when u know what she went through :(

maxfewtrell running on stream to listen to it

yourusername pls dont hate im still sensitive user omg noo i cant watch whats he saying about it?? user he loves every song, hes being so supportive and said hes team y/n😭

user her friendship with charles is so cute omg

user “friendship” rightttt😏

user lost lando but got charles, a win is a win

francisca.cgomes love love love💌

user omg i know charles introduced them

user ‘ill see you soon’ ARE YOU TOURING???

pietra.pilao so incredibly proud of you❤️ such an amazing album

yourusername p ily and miss u sm🥹❤️ pietra.pilao i miss you more we need to get together soon! yourusername otw to text u so make plans rn🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

user the fact that landos friends are still supportive despite the breakup tells me everything i need to know

user “officially close this chapter” new era fr🫶

charles_leclerc so honored you even asked me to be apart of this❤️so proud of you ma cherie

yourusername so grateful for you❤️ user JUST DATEEEE user now kiss!!!

Lando so you and y/n huh?

Charles she's my friend is that a problem?

Lando i dont remember ever introducing you two?

Charles not that its any of your concern but i introduced myself last year on the paddock while you were too busy ignoring her

Lando so when i had back turned, you took the chance to steal my girlfriend?

Charles dont try turning this into something its not she's trying to move on so i think its time you do the same lando dont ask about her again. read

f1gossip

463,582 likes

f1gossip Following Y/n Y/l/n's album release, Lando and Charles have unfollowed each other on instagram! It is not confirmed if Y/n is the reason why, but it is heavily speculated. It seems Lando was the first to unfollow and Charles quickly followed suit.

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user all too much for little lando norris

user y/n breaking up a friendship now🙄

user she didnt do anything except release an album on how she felt, if lando gets offended by that then hes clearly the problem here

user 16 4 fans lost today but then again lando started it🤷‍♀️

user karma works in funny ways @landonorris

user lando has every right to be mad imo

user not at all, he treated her like shit then cheated and now hes mad she has friends in f1? make it make sense

user why watch soap operas when you can watch f1

user 2024 season is gonna HIT

user charles is going to have the motivation for wdc now, ferrari fans won🙏

user even though im a lando fan, i have to be team charles and y/n on this one sorry

user yup, after listening to her album i definitely support y/n

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 3,295,204 others

yourusername first time performing my new album at my one night show was the best time ever!! thank you for all that showed up you were an amazing crowd❤️

and just in case you missed my little announcement, bet u wanna is my next single of this album...this one's a little funny when you know the context🙊

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user wish i was able to go :(

user WHATS THE CONTEXT??

user listen to the lyrics, lando definetly wanted her back after his side girl cheated AHAH

user i need to know if charles was there

francisca.cgomes such a wonderful night💌 liked by yourusername

user your stage presence is so amazing

luisinhaoliveira99 so great seeing you🤍 liked by yourusername

user SHE WAS THERE?!? user pls tell me you guys took pictures together

user bet u wanna is so good omg

user are you opening for eras tour in europe

user it is rumored, i hope its true😭

f1gossip

376,845 likes

f1gossip Charles, Pierre, Kika and Luisa leaving Y/n Y/l/n's concert in LA tonight! Thoughts on the singer's new friendship with the drivers and girls?

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user i love them😭❤️

user i was there and saw charles with pierre and kika singing along to every song🥹

user SHUT UPPPP user stop theyre so cute

user luisa and y/n mean everything to me

user them supporting y/n despite the drama with lando shows a lot about him

user ive never wanted to part of a gc so bad

user charles is so supportive, yk who wouldnt be....

user i need them to date, he would treat y/n so good

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,402,440 others

scuderiaferrari Special guest for the first qualification of the season! Thanks for coming to the our garage❤️

tagged yourusername

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user OMFGGG

user i need pics of her and charles NOW

user charles got p1 cause bae was watching🙈

user is she staying all weekend!?!

user her and charles supporting each other omg

user are they finally dating??

user he was asked about it in an interview and he said they were just friends! user ugh can charles make a move already? i dont want another lando situation..

user i wonder if she bumped into lando😳

Lando was y/n really in ferrari garage?

Carlos yeah... are you okay mate?

Lando how can i be? he stole my girlfriend and is now parading her around the paddock its fucked up

Carlos he did say they were just friends and i didnt see them acting like a couple or anything

Lando there's gotta be something more i just need y/n to see who he really is

Carlos i dont know, maybe its time you move on mate

Lando no, i cant give up now do you have an extra paddock pass?

Carlos why...

Lando remember charles' crazy ex girlfriend who was obsessed with him? i heard shes in town to see him what if we send her the paddock pass so she can show y/n how charles treated her

Carlos this seems a little crazy lando why dont you just talk to y/n?

Lando she wont even let me get near her just please carlos? and then i wont ever bring it up again if it doesnt work

Carlos fine but dont tell anybody about this

Lando thank you mate, i owe you

tags: @iamahallucinationnn, @sofiacblair