#that anson turned down!

[ansonmountdaily]

Anson Mount and Ethan Peck at Star Trek: Las Vegas 2023

Photos of Anson and Ethan's Strange New Worlds panel at STLV convention, August 6 2023.

To great fan excitement, Ethan also joined fellow Spock actor Zachary Quinto at his panel, inspiring social media discussion on a possible crossover between Strange New Worlds and the Kelvin timeline Star Trek films! \o/ This was the first time the two actors sat down together and talked to each other. :)

Source: Creation Entertainment [2] [3], TrekMovie

[dreamauri]

hii!! i love your writing and i have an idea. toto wolff’s daughter used to date max but they broke up (bc yk mercedes and redbull rivalry) and she starts dating a footballer (it can be anyone that you want but i was thinking mason mount), but out of nowhere they break up and he shares in a podcast idk that shes still in love with her ex, max. id love to see how this would end 🫶🏻

┊𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗗𝗔𝗬𝗦 ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max verstappen x fem! wolff! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( 2, 104 )  ╰ 🫧  :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

★ ☆ This was from like august, im so sorry its so late. ik the annon said anson mount, but i dont really know his personality that well, so you can just imagine any person you want ig ━━━━━

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests )

2021

Everything was so blurry. You could see the illumination coming from your phone, little blurry grey and blue texts. You couldn't feel your body, ragged, unsteady breaths falling to and from your lungs.

"Block him. And delete his number. I don't want you to go out with him or be seen with him ever again." Your father's strong voice was the only sound in the room. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, but he wouldn't even look at you, rubbing his eyes as he sat on the bed of your hotel room.

Too many things were happening at once. This wasn't fair. This was wrong. "Aber papa." [but dad] "My words are final, Y/N." He spoke with such authority and strictness, you hated it when he was like that with you. Looking back down at you phone, you saw the 'seen' under the last bubble of text you sent.

Panic shot through you like a sharp arrow, hurt climbing through you. Scrambling quickly, you block the number and delete the contact. You couldn't bare to see the reaction or the reply. And you stood like that for a few minutes, the world falling apart as Toto talked. But you weren't listening. And you didn't want to listen. You didn't want to hear his voice.

And before you were to even realize it, you'd smashed the phone against the wall.

You tore the Mercedes shirt off your body, replaced it with a random sweater, stomping around the room, collecting your things. "What are you doing?" Toto stood up, watching you stuff you belongings in your bag. He held your wrist to stop you but you only yanked your arm back, shouting something at him, anything at him.

Toto was defiantly taken aback. He's never seen his little girl like this. Eyes red with tears, yet so angry. He never even thought he'd hear such hurtful words from you either. No father ever wants to hear 'i hate you' from their daughter, and it hurt right in his chest. You shoved the Mercedes shirt in chest, zipping up your bag and headed straight for the door.

"My love—" "Ich bin keine tochter von dir." [I'm no daughter of yours] Was the last thing he heard from you before the door was slammed shut.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2023

The Las Vegas GP had truly ruined the city. Max couldn't even have a nice drive from his hotel to the circuit in peace. The traffic was heavy and the honking was loud. At this point if max could, he'd just dump the car in any corner and walk the few kilometres himself. But he couldn't. And this added another reason as to why he hated this Grand Prix so much.

Try something else, he told himself. Disconnect. Max turned on the radio flipping through the channels every two seconds when his ear caught something. His stomach was flipped upside down and he was pretty sure he felt like his lungs would explode.

"You broke up with Y/N L/N recently." "Yeah, I have." "But she was such a nice girl." "She is. She really is. She wasn't clingy or needy. Like the perfect amount." "And beautiful as well." "Very beautiful, if you get what i mean." The men on the podcast laughed. Max felt him self frown. How dare they talk about you like this was some sort of goldy locks story.

"Yeah, She's perfect and all. But she's really hung up on her ex. You didn't even have to ask her, you could just look at her and tell that she wanted something else. I'm not going to say names, but the guy really fucked her up."

fucked her up? Max felt his heart skip a beat, or even more likely, it stopped beating at all. He turned the radio off quickly, gripping the steering wheel till his knuckles bled white. Of course he had fucked you up, no wonder things went the way they did. They shouldn't have went that way. He should've never gotten his rival team's boss' daughter to fall for him.

No! What was Max thinking? The months he spent with you were the best things that have ever happened to him. It wasn't his fault. How would he know the Mercedes and Red Bull relationship would grow so bitter. How would he knew you'd be caught in the cross fire. He spends one winter break with you and then it all rips to shreds.

Was that why you changed your Last name? So he wouldn't find you? Must've been since it did work in your favour.

Y/N L/N.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Y/N L/N, Max thought as he typed the name into google. Your face was the first thing to pop up and Max had to hold down a gulp.

You definitely grew up. The playful and bubbly aura to the girl had almost completely dissipated, leaving a quiet and mature woman who looked very serious and uninterested, with a defiantly much more womanly body, enough to get you on the cover of vogue.

"You okay, mate?" Max looked up seeing Checo. They were gonna do the opening ceremony at any moment and the world champion did not look like he was in his head. Max quickly swiped off the tab and shrugged. "Nothing, just some drama." The blond waved it off, tucking the phone in his pocket.

The teams were being announced, starting with HAAS all the way up in the constructor ranking. "I never took you for a person to be interested in drama and stuff." Well, Checo was correct: Max wasn't into that kind of thing. He just happened to stalk his ex by accident since he couldn't get the thought of her out of his head.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You lied to me." You huffed, stuffing your hands in your pockets, refusing to take a step further. "I didn't lie to you, technically. I just didn't tell you." Your friend shrugged, hooking her arm with yours and forcefully pulling you along while you tried to resist. "I don't want to be here, you tricked me." "I did."

It was certainly a sight. Lady gaga dragging Y/N L/N at the paddock of the Las Vegas GP. "The cars dont bite, N/N." "Yeah! That's because I'll be the one biting you!" The woman quickly let go of you at the threat. You went to walk out only to find people looking at you with exited and confused eyes. The exit was now too far.

With a dissatisfied sigh, you held out your hand and Lady Gaga took it, continuing to pull you along. "Today's just the race. So we'll watch. We'll wave the flag and then we'll leave." "I'm not waving the flag." "I'll do it."

You folded your arms, watching from the bottom of the grid on the side as the drivers arrived on the grid. The cars were lined up with car #16 and #1 on the top row, thankfully far away from you. Thankfully, the Mercedes were also far enough as well. You definitely wouldn't stand out in some non-flashy hoodie and shorts. You would've dressed better if you knew you were going to end up being forced into this.

People didn't really notice you at all, more concentrated on the drivers and celebrities. But they soon did notice you, a celebrity being pointed at by a driver. 'No way' Danny ric mouthed, face bright with surprise, a wide smile and arched eyebrows. He waved you over, and waved even harder when you shook your head in decline. You didn't want to appear rude. So you stood to his side, side hugging him as he rambled on about how much you missed. And you listened. You couldn't hate danny. he was like a big brother since f1 was practically your life.

"You should've told me you were coming, ya know." "I didn't even know I was coming." You chuckled, looking around.

FUCK! you looked away quickly, cutting the eye contact with Max short. Bad idea. Very bad idea. You thought, heart hammering in your chest.

"He still loves you." "Huh?" You looked up at Daniel confused. "Max." "no no." you shook your head. "He does." "he doesn't." "He was searching you up." You paused. "I saw it, your name on google." "That's called stalking—" "But he still thinks of you." "good point . . ." "You should think about it, considering how things ended. I think you should at least be on the same page." ". . . thank you danny."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Oh shit." You looked at gaga confused. "Hold this for a second, something's in my eye." She handed you the chequered flag, more like shoved it into your chest while she went to fix her eyelash.

"A little faster." Your hurried, hearing the cars come around turn 17. But gaga took a step back continuing to try and fix her issue. With a huff, you stepped forward, leaning your body on the railing, waving the flag just in time for Max who crossed first.

When all the cars finished the last lap you finally took a step back, flexing your wrist tiredly from doing all these Xs. You turned to see Gaga smiling at you, her eyelashes long forgotten because there wasn't an issue all along.

"You suck." You grumbled, and she laughed taking the flag from you. And just like that, finally you were able to get out of there. The crowds were too busy watching the podium ceremony to see you exit and leave through the parking lot.

You plopped in your car, turning on the engine. You couldn't bring yourself to drive out though. The excuse would be that the engine was still not warm enough. But really, you didn't want to leave behind those blue eyes again. they deserve an explanation for what they read that night two and a half years ago. But it's not like max would know you're waiting for him, or find you if that's the case. How would he know you're waiting for him in your car?

Well however he knew, he knew. The passenger door was opened and the Dutch man sat in the seat next you. You didn't even realize he had been looking for you throughout the whole parking lot, hoping to see you again. You've been looking down at your hands for goodness knows how long. You only looked up one you heard him cup his hands together and blow into them.

You cleared your throat, turning the seat warmer on for him. He must've gotten used to the warm Monaco weather for a cold city like this. The two of you sat in silence for a couple minutes. You didn't dare to look back at him, because you knew he was looking at you. And if you looked at him, who knows what would happen next because for sure you're still fucking dying to kiss him.

"Max, I'm sorry." / "Y/N, I'm sorry."

The two of you froze, looking at each other. "You go first." Max nodded.

You took in a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. "I didn't mean to end things that way." and i didn't want it to end, you wanted to add but opted to leave that out. "Torger barged in my room and told me to end it right then and there. I didn't really have a say in anything." You sighed deeply, scratching the back of your neck. A moment of silence dawned in the car until Max spoke again.

"That explains the spelling mistakes." he chuckled lightly, opening his phone and scrolling through until he found your message chat. You could see the 'ts pver' and 'domt tezt or tqlj to me wver afqin' messages at the bottom. an un received message holding the words 'wait what?' 'baby whats going on' you never saw these messages, you'd blocked him by then.

"We should've talked." You admitted. "In person- discussed things. This wasn't fair to you . . . I really am sorry. I should've never let someone take control of me like that. I ended up hurting you."

". . . I always thought you hated me." You sprung up eyes wide as you turned to him. "No no. Never." You shook your head. You weren't even over him. "I don't hate you, I never did, Max. You're too amazing and important to me for that." You didn't even realize the words coming out of your mouth.

The words that led the blond to cup the back of your neck and pull you into a kiss. A kiss he'd been waiting almost 3 years for.

[all-da-ladies-luv-leoo]

pjo characters as songs from my spotify playlist:

(pt. 2)

Percy: Run Boy Run by Woodkid

↳ tomorrow is another day and you won’t have to hide away; you’ll be a man, boy but for now it’s time to run

Annabeth: W.I.T.C.H. by Devon Cole

↳ and she don’t wanna be anybody else, she’s a woman in total control of herself

Grover: Heaven by The Walkmen

↳ stick with me, oh your my best friend; all of my life, you’ve always been

Nico: This is Home by Cavetown

↳ get a load of this monster, he doesn’t know how to communicate; his mind is in a different place

Leo: Trying My Best by Anson Seabra

↳ i hope that you can see the pain that i’ve seen and all of the times i’ve spent being not me; i hope you know that it’s not always happy in my head

Piper: Girl is a G*n by Halsey

↳ it’s a shot in the dark, i’m not a walk in the park, i come loaded with the safety switched off

Jason: Keanu Reeves by Chase Petra

↳ and i hurt like a child with an unreconciled need to carve out a smile on a face i revile

Hazel: Could Have Been Me by The Struts

↳ don’t wanna live as an untold story; i’d rather go out in a blaze of glory

Frank: Work Song by Hozier

↳ no grave can hold my body down, i’ll crawl home to her

Reyna: Centuries by Fall Out Boy

↳ some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold but you will remember me; remember me for centuries

Will: Sun Machine by Bears in Trees

↳ i’ve got something to prove, i don’t know what it is yet but it’s golden as the stars you drew in the corners of my eyes

Thalia: Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears for Fears

↳ help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure; nothing ever lasts forever

[tellmegoodbye]

Welcome back everyone! This week's themes are Disasters and Nancy & Mateo. I'll admit, this theme was a tough one! I have two songs that reflect on two very disastrous moments in the show. It's a loose interpretation of the word, I know, but the result is now probably my angstiest music monday submission yet. You're welcome. Or I'm sorry.

Thank you as always to @lonestar-s5countdown!

---

Walked Through Hell - Anson Seabra

I guess all the mountains that I moved just weren't enough And all those nights I walked you home From crowded bars when you were drunk Well they meant nothing 'cause you up and walked away And I just wonder what it'd take to make you stay

Cause when you said jump I said how high But when I jumped you said goodbye

I would've walked through hell To find another way I would've laid me down If I knew that you would stay I would've crossed the stars To keep you in my life But now I'm falling hard Without you here tonight

I'm kicking things off with a breakup song. TK and Carlos were both broken in their own ways, but these lyrics are a reflection on Carlos' state of mind in the immediate aftermath. There's a touch of unreliable narrator involved here because obviously TK loves Carlos, but from the perspective of the person whose heart has just been broken, he doesn't. This song really digs into just how much pain something like this causes, and how much healing they had to go through. Much like a recovery from a physical injury, such as Grace hurting her leg or TK taking a bullet to his chest, Carlos' love and trust needed a lot of mending.

Atlantic - Sleep Token

(cw: reference to a suicide attempt)

I woke up surrounded, eyes like frozen planets Just orbiting the vacuum I am And they talk me through the damage, consequence And how it's a pain they know they don't understand

Sobbing as they turn to statues at the bedside I'm trying not to crush into sand So flood me like Atlantic, weather me to nothing Wash away the blood on my hands

This is TK in the aftermath of his overdose. The narrator describes themselves as a vaccum, surrounded by people who love them but can't understand the pain that they're in. TK feels so broken and empty at this point, and even though he lies to Owen and puts on a stoic face. We know he's hurting so much more than he said. We know that this overdose was no accident, that TK felt so lost and unlovable that he had tried to take his own life. He'll go through the motions. He'll move to Austin with his dad and rebuild a firehouse. He'll go back to work and seek out physical comfort from Carlos, but he doesn't heal from something like this overnight. He still feels like he'll never have the kind of future he wants. Love and happiness feel so distant for him right now, nearly an impossiblity. He can't see a way out of the darkness.

Tags!

@strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet @herefortarlos @bonheur-cafe

@ironheartwriter @emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @literateowl @carlos-tk

@paperstorm @guardian-angle22 @lightningboltreader @eclectic-sassycoweyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings

@whatsintheboxmh @firstprince-history-huh @toomanycupsoftea @reeeallygood @butchreyes

@nancys-braids @captain-gillian @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @reyesstrand + open tag!

[bantarleton]

First Battle of Cape Finisterre

The First Battle of Cape Finisterre (14 May 1747) was waged during the War of the Austrian Succession. It refers to the attack by 14 British ships of the line under Admiral George Anson against a French 30-ship convoy commanded by Admiral de la Jonquière. The French were attempting to protect their merchant ships by using warships with them. The British captured 4 ships of the line, 2 frigates, and 7 merchantmen, in a five-hour battle in the Atlantic Ocean off Cape Finisterre in northwest Spain. One French frigate, one French East India Company warship, and the other merchantmen escaped.

George Anson, 1st Baron Anson, most famous for his four year military circumnavigation around the world between 1740 and 1744.

France needed to keep shipping lanes open in order to maintain her overseas empire. To this end she assembled merchantmen into convoys protected by warships. Anson on Prince George and Rear-Admiral Sir Peter Warren on Devonshire had sailed from Plymouth on 9 April to intercept French shipping. When a large convoy was sighted, Anson made the signal to form line of battle. Rear-Admiral Warren, suspecting the enemy to be manoeuvring to promote the escape of the convoy, bore down and communicated his opinion to the admiral; the latter threw out a signal for a general chase.

Centurion under a press of sail, was the first to come up to the rearmost French ship, which she attacked severely, and two other ships dropped astern to her support. The action became general when three more British ships, including Devonshire, came up. The French, though much inferior in numbers, fought till seven in the evening, when all but two of their ships were taken, as well as nine East India merchantmen. The French lost 700 men killed and wounded, and the British 520. Over £300,000 was found on board the ships of war, which were turned into British ships.

François de Grasse, later the famous Comte, was wounded in this first battle. He was taken prisoner among the crew and officers on La Gloire, which was captured.

Following his victory, Anson was raised to the peerage. The French assembled another, much bigger, convoy which set sail in October. After Edward Hawke's defeat of this fleet in the Second Battle of Cape Finisterre, the French naval operations were ended for the rest of the war.

According to American historian William Williamson's 1832 account, the battle was a "most severe blow to the French interests in America. Besides immense property taken, there were found on board … numerous articles designed for the Acadians and Indians."

[mysticstarlightduck]

Character Aesthetic Deep Dive Tag!

Let's go with Saoirse Richards from Scrapyard Boys for this one!!!

Rules: Make a moodboard with your character's aesthetic, a playlist that fits their vibe, "badly summarize them" (like, talk about their personality, but funnily), etc. It absolutely does not need to be super detailed!!!!!

✦ Character Aesthetic: Saoirse Richards, WIP -Scrapyard Boys

♡ Moodboard ♡

♡ Playlist ♡

Are You Satisfied? - Marina & The Diamonds

Was I meant to feel happy That my life was just about to change? One life pretending to be The cat who got the cream Oh, everybody said, "Marina is a dreamer" People like to tell you What you're gonna be is not my problem if you don't see what I see And I do not give a damn if you don't believe My problem is my problem that I never am happy It's my problem, it's my problem on how fast I will succeed Are you satisfied with an average life? Do I need to lie to make my way in life? High achiever, don't you see? Baby, nothing comes for free They say I'm a control freak Driven by a greed to succeed Nobody can stop me

Things We Lost In The Fire - Bastille

Things we lost to the flames Things we'll never see again All that we've amassed Sits before us, shattered into ash These are the things, the things we lost The things we lost in the fire, fire, fire These are the things, the things we lost The things we lost in the fire, fire, fire We sat and made a list Of all the things that we have Down the backs of table tops Ticket stubs and your diaries, I read them all one day When loneliness came and you were away Oh they told me nothing new But I love to read the words you used These are the things, the things we lost The things we lost in the fire, fire, fire

O.D.D - Hey Violet

I should never listen to another voice But my own Now I've grown up, now I know That when I'm tryna be myself it isn't so simple Anymore Some days I wake up I just wanna hide under the covers 'Cause no matter what I do I'll never be like all the others I'm a little O.D.D Most people really don't get me I'm the girl in the back of the class Blank stare, don't care, don't ask I'm a little O.D.D I see the way they look at me I can hear it when they talk that trash Saying "Any minute she gon' crack"

Mind Games - Sickick

Once I'm in there ain't no letting go, letting go Watch me turn your mind into my home Now that I'm in there's no letting go And your emptiness begins Once I grip onto your mind and soul And your brightness starts to dim Sin after sin you won't feel no more You've lost your trust again I know you wish you could let me know That you're praying for an end

Welcome to Wonderland - Anson Seabra

Welcome to Wonderland, where should we go There's a tea party along down the road Make an appearance and maybe they'll sing us a song Dancing through a dream underneath the stars Laughing 'til the morning comes Everyone that leaves has a heavy heart Oh, Wonderland I love Nothing around here is quite as it seems Not sure if anything's real or a dream And the only thing sure from the start Is the song that's inside of your heart Don't let it leave If this was a dream, then at least I've got Memories for when morning comes Now that I must leave with a heavy heart Oh, Wonderland I love

Boo Hoo - Neoni, ft. RIELL

When you start a fire and hide the matches Been down that rabbit hole Swore I would never go Back to bad habit's, I'm through Around and around we go sick of the vertigo Abracadabra, screw you White lies, red eyes, I've had enough Fake nice surprise, I've had enough White lies, red eyes, I've had enough Fake nice surprise Boo hoo, you don't like me, well That's good for you Boo hoo, say you're over it, well That makes two Throw your pity pity pity party Bring your friends, but you got nobody You, you don't like me, I don't like you Boo hoo

Numb Little Bug - Em Behold

And the world it feels too big Like a floating ball that's bound to break Snap my psyche like a twig And I just wanna see if you feel the same as me Do you ever get a little bit tired of life Like you're not really happy but you don't wanna die Like you're hanging by a thread but you gotta survive 'Cause you gotta survive Like your body's in the room but you're not really there Like you have empathy inside but you don't really care Like you're fresh outta love but it's been in the air Am I past repair A little bit tired of tryin' to care when I don't A little bit tired of quick repairs to cope A little bit tired of sinkin' There's water in my boat I'm barely breathin' Tryna stay afloat So I got these quick repairs to cope Guess I'm just broken and broke

♡ Badly Summarized OC ♡

A brilliant young telepath/telekinetic superhero fueled by coffee, candies and spite, as well as a truckload of pizza.

Puts her intellect to good use by creating the most unhinged plans and somehow making them work! Is the Gremlin Mom Friend.

Is terrified of fire because her father's business partner burned down his lab with him inside. Now doesn't know how to feel about the fact that one of her best friends controls flames.

She's probably a bit more childish and naive than the rest of the team but is sharp-witted and funny all the same. Also! Out of the starting members of the Gang, Saoirse is the only one who was born in serious wealth, though she lost it all.

If someone fused a black cat and an orange cat into one and turned them into a human being, that would be Saoirse.

Can speak a lot of languages but most of the cast doesn't know until she randomly starts spouting fluent words in foreign languages in a situation where that's required. (Cue the classic: "We didn't know you spoke [language X]!" followed by "... But you never asked?")

Gives suspiciously good relationship advice but has never dated before.

Loves a grunge style and absolutely revels in a goblin-core aesthetic, plus adores watching the chaos unfold from behind the scenes.

Has a deeper voice than one would expect, which often also sounds coarse when she's bored or focused.

Sleeps like a rock and could potentially sleep through the end of the world. Counts scientific facts instead of sheep when she can't fall asleep.

Can crawl and climb basically anywhere. This has nothing to do with her powers - she's just uncannily agile and stealthy, to the point she jumpscares her friends often lol.

Source for pictures: Pinterest

Source for music/songs: Spotify

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@the-golden-comet, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@differentnighttale

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

Taglist for Scrapyard Boys below the cut 🧪

Scrapyard Boys Taglist (-/+): @ray-writes-n-shit, @sarandipitywrites, @lassiesandiego, @smol-feralgremlin, @kaylinalexanderbooks,

@diabolical-blue @oh-no-another-idea

@cakeinthevoid, @clairelsonao3,

@thepeculiarbird

@the-golden-comet, @urnumber1star, @ominous-feychild, @anyablackwood, @amaiguri, @lyutenw @finickyfelix

@thecomfywriter, @the-letterbox-archives, @differentnighttale @wyked-ao3

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[tooneys-russo]

BOOTS AND BROKEN HEARTS

Previous Parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: Alessia and her UNC coach Willa have a bit too much chemistry. Only downside is that Willa has a girlfriend.

CHAPTER 5

The game in Miami was frustrating to say the least, Alessia continuously got knocked to the ground by their defender. Willa was furious with the referee, before they had even gotten to half time Anson sent Willa to the changerooms to cool down. It was also accompanied by a glare by Alessia. When the team entered they looked tired and defeated. Willa stood up the back and watched the girls walk in, she went over to Sydney and spoke to her about some tactics. Anson tried his best to lift the girl’s heads, they were still at nil all but they thought it would be an easy game, instead they were faced with a very physical game and they were trying to keep up. Alessia closed her eyes and leant up against her locker, when it was time to get back on the field she was the last to get up. Willa walked behind her, “Target the right side, that is their weakest side. Cut it back into the box and you’ll have a shot.” Alessia nodded and continued walking. Willa stayed in the changerooms, knowing that she may be a bit of a distraction. It wasn’t long before she heard a cheer, including the voice of Lois meaning that UNC must have scored. At the end of the second half when the girls came into the rooms they were cheering and celebrating Alessia who scored the only goal for the game. Willa stood back watching the team, especially seeing Alessia’s face light up as the girls rallied around her. Anson began to speak, the girls calmed down slightly and Willa went to her office. She waited until the girls were leaving to find the blonde. 

Finally Willa saw the blonde heading to the car park and followed her, “Can we please talk?” Willa grabbed Alessia’s hand and she pulled it back immediately. “About what? My game? Or the fact that we did something stupid.” Alessia snapped. “I know we did! But to be honest I don’t regret it. For the first time in a long time I actually felt something with someone. A real connection.” Willa tried to step closer to Alessia but she took another step back. “If you actually felt a connection Willa you would have ended it with Jennifer. But no. You kept flirting with me and like a stupid kid I flirted back. You wanted me just as bad as I wanted you and you ran right to her after what happened. Just leave me the fuck alone, you need to work out your own shit and leave me out of it. I will respect you as a coach but as a person you suck.” Alessia got in her car and drove off quickly. “FUCK!” Willa punched her car window and immediately felt pain shoot through her knuckle and hand. 

“Care to fucking explain what that was Willa?” She heard the familiar voice of Jennifer, perfect. “What happened between you and that little slut?” Jennifer walked over and crossed her arms over her chest. “We kissed.” Willa examined her hand not wanting to look at Jennifer. “What happened between you and Alanna?” Willa turned to Jennifer. “Um, we are talking about you.” Willa laughed. “Oh please I know you two fucked, everyone knows, Ali and Ashlyn felt horrible for me the two times I spent time with you and the team.” Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Yeah so? You cheated too so we are even.” Willa leant up against her car. “This isn’t a competition Jennifer. We are shit together. We don’t work and we aren’t happy. We aren’t 18 anymore, I am fucking miserable.” Jennifer stepped back. “You are dumping me? For who? That college girl? Wait till she really finds out who you are. I will give you credit Willa, you are a great fuck but you are truly a shit girlfriend. You are nothing without me, just a hasbeen who will never step foot on a football field again” Willa clenched her jaw. “That girl won’t give you the time of day when she makes it.” Jennifer continued to yell, Willa looked at the ground completely torn down by Jennifer’s words, they were true Alessia was made for greatness and she was never going to get close. “Then I guess you and I are the same then, you aren't that good either.” Jennifer slapped Willa across the face, cutting her lip. “Fuck you Willa.” Jennifer began to walk away, Willa spat out some blood on the floor. “You already did Jennifer or can’t you keep count?” Jennifer got into her car and sped off. Willa looked at her face examining the handy work that Jennifer did, which she completely deserved.

Lotte and Lois had heard and seen everything that happened. They quickly rushed back to their dorm and gave Alessia a rundown of what happened. “I mean at least you know that she would have been good in bed.” Lois said and Alessia shot her a glare. “But just as I suspected she’s a shit girlfriend.” Alessia sighed. “Sounds like they were both shit to each other.” Lotte was sympathetic to Alessia’s feelings but also felt that whatever was going on with Willa and Jennifer was toxic. Alessia was worried about Willa’s face, but she couldn’t reach out to the girl after everything. They both had sleepless nights and looked terrible at training the next day. Willa had wrapped a compression bandage around her hand hoping to stop the swelling and wore sunglasses to cover up as much of her bruised cheek and black eye as she could. The girls whispered about the coach’s new look as she stood on the sidelines as the girls were running. She had a chat with Anson about what had happened and he sent her to the hospital for scans, she groaned but left which led to even more gossiping. After dinner during the film session Willa was back without her sunglasses showing the damage on her face, her hand was in a splint with the x rays revealing she had a fractured knuckle but nothing much could be done. Willa sat up the back and Alessia resisted her urge to look back at the brunette, Willa couldn’t resist looking at Alessia during the film session. 

They had a massive game the next day but they both struggled with being able to focus, Alessia didn’t move as the rest of the team left. Willa cautiously walked down the steps and stopped at the bottom, she turned and looked at the blonde whose eyes focused on the blank screen. “Alessia, there are not enough words in the world to express how sorry I am for what I did.” She walked up and sat a few seats from Alessia. “I fucked up royally, I should have stopped what was happening, but to be honest I didn’t want to. I don’t regret it, I am sorry that I hurt you but being with you whether it was just kicking a ball, sitting and talking or when we made out in here it was the best I have ever felt.” Willa leant over and touched Alessia’s leg. “I can’t do this with you. I just can’t Willa. I messed up too, I knew you had a girlfriend and I pursued you as well. So I am sorry for my part but we can’t continue this. I need to focus on my football, this is all I have ever wanted” Alessia wiped away a tear and rushed from the theatre. Willa put her head in her hands and sat there for a few hours, going over everything that had happened between them. She was an idiot for not leaving Jennifer sooner and just going all out for Alessia.

Willa had done her best to avoid Alessia, the blonde had done the same. Neither of them could be in the same space for long. They had danced around each other for weeks, there had been small comments made to one another but nothing substantial, just polite. Alessia and Willa had a few more sessions but there were now other players who were in on their extra sessions, no longer was Willa holding Alessia in drills or their bodies pressed against one another. To her credit Willa was able to still get her message across to all players and was seeing an improvement in Alessia with each minute. It was phenomenal to watch her, Willa was captivated by the blonde. At the end of training Alessia hung back to chat to Willa, their first conversation in weeks. “Thank you.” Alessia stood in front of Willa. “I can feel myself improving.” Willa nodded. “Yeah you are looking great out there. It is nice to see you with your head over the ball hitting the back of the net and not the crossbar.” Alessia rolled her eyes. “I am trying to say thank you and you are being a dick.” Willa smiled slightly at Alessia. “Yeah sure, thank you for the appreciation. Now rest up. You covered 11 kilometres today, well done.” They walked away from the pitch in opposite directions, both of them avoiding looking back at the other. 

The next day the team were getting warmed up for the Wake Forest game, they were a physical team and Willa knew that the girls were up to the task. Willa received minimal interaction from Lotte and Lois, who knew all about the love triangle and were very pissed at their coach. Willa stood on the sidelines with her sunglasses on and cap on trying to hide some of her shame. The first half was hard, Alessia was being targeted and when Willa yelled at the referee and was cautioned for her outburst. Lois watched Willa closely. “They can’t just grab her and pull her down without a foul being called. There isn’t a fucking ghost out there, she is going to get hurt if they don’t call something.” Willa paced behind the bench. Three minutes into the second half, Willa’s prediction came true. Alessia was running with the ball down the right wing when one of their defenders slid with studs up into Alessia, a crunch was heard and Alessia screamed at the impact. Willa rushed on cursing the referee for not controlling the game earlier. Alessia was clutching her right shin and Willa touched her side. “Fuck.” Alessia whimpered as she sobbed, their medic was on the phone to get an ambulance they got her on a stretcher and into the change rooms, Willa followed close behind. “It's okay Alessia, there will be an ambulance here soon.” She put her hand on Alessia’s arm, the blonde gripped onto Willa’s hand and groaned in pain. Willa held Alessia’s hand and rubbed it gently. While they waited for the ambulance Willa tried to calm Alessia. 

When the ambulance arrived they immediately gave Alessia painkillers, Willa knew that Alessia most likely broke her leg and that it was her season finished. Alessia slowly became more and more incoherent from the painkillers, they loaded her into the ambulance and Willa jumped in with her. Alessia mumbled and grabbed Willa’s shirt, “I can’t hear you Less, you okay.” Alessia laughed and looked at Willa. “I miss talking to you.” Willa sighed, the drugs had kicked in. “You. Good. Football.” Willa smiled at the girl and Alessia closed her eyes and hummed, the paramedic cut off her boot and she groaned. “Ouch.” Willa rubbed her hand as they then took off her sock and shin guard. Willa’s eyes widened as Alessia’s leg looked a little misshapen. “Is it okay?” Alessia looked at Willa. “Yeah it’s fine, you are all good princess.” Willa sat in the waiting room while Alessia was taken into surgery to set the broken bones in her leg. Her tibia and fibula were both broken just below her shinbone. Willa called Anson to update him on what the plan was, he had already called Alessia’s parents in the UK to let them know what had happened. Her Father was going to fly over to take care of her, Willa hoped that he didn’t know what had happened between them.

CHAPTER 6

[achillyscomedown]

dead poets as song lyrics pt.3-

todd: blue skies turn to grey now // my eyes turn to rain clouds // and i’m tired // it’s been three weeks since you’ve left me // so tonight i’m feeling empty // i don’t know why // we were nine clouds high, then we fell down // nowhere to hide, caught in the fallout // and i can’t lie, wish you’d call now // for one more time // one more time //

charlie: i’m not sad but i’m not exactly happy yet either // unless i live forever, i have to keep writing this sh!t // my biggest fear is that i will be forgotten // the grass will grow over my gravestone and nobody will bother // you know the beautiful thoughts you always think? // nobody will hear them again // 

neil: i’m just a tenant paying rent inside this body and i // got two windows and those windows, well i call them my eyes // i’m just going where the wind blows, i don’t get to decide // sometimes i think too much // yeah, i get so caught up // i’m always stuck in my head // i wish i could escape // i tried to yesterday // took all the sheets of my bed // then i tied up my linen with five strips of ribbon i found // scaled the side of a building, i ran to the hills til’ they found me // and they put me back in my cell, all by myself //

knox: oh, i fell for your charm // i was so infatuated // but you left me in the dark, and my heart completely vacant // and now i don’t know // is your heart just preconditioned for brevity? // i don’t mean to accuse you of refusing longevity // but i can not excuse you for abusing my empathy // my empathy // i can take rejection // but you gave the impression that this was the inception of something real //

cameron: i know i’m not as cool as i’d like me to be // but why do you feel so down again? // i know i’m not a very good friend // why do you feel so down? // sure, that’s not something i’d stick around for // why do you feel so down? // 

pitts: a couple whiskey and cigarettes // i got a few things to get up off my chest // i’ve been knee-deep in my regrets // i’m missing home // and if i go back, i might not like // where my heads at every night // i feel a semblance of where i’d like to go // 

meeks: thought if we were free for a night // we’d make it right // live in peace // not bleed // heaven cries // and buries my hope for all the people // who are here to live and die // yeah tell all the people // there’s no need to dim the lights to hide // just live and die //

edit:

todd’s song: ‘it’s raining, it’s pouring’ by anson seabra

charlie’s song: ‘fentanyl’ by mccafferty

neil’s song: ‘mind is a prison’ by alec benjamin

knox’s song: ‘the way you felt’ by alex benjamin

cameron’s song: ‘why do you feel so down’ by declan mckenna

meeks song: ‘live and die’ by gina dirawi

pitts song: ‘whiskey & cigarettes’ by chance peña

[wouldyoustilllovemeifiwasawyrm]

Princess! Princess!

Linktober 2023

Day 12: Princess

One week after the Princess of Hyrule returns to the surface, everyone wants an audience with her.

A week. Six days, seven hours, and eighteen minutes, to be exact. He was sure he could get it down to the second if he really thought about it. He had no doubt Purah stopped a clock somewhere or took a—what did she call it? Screenshot?—something that marked the exact moment Zelda plummeted down from the heavens.

Marking the time wasn’t of immediate importance to Link in that moment. Once he held Zelda in his arms again, splashing down into the pond below, time didn’t matter so much anymore.

For the first three days, she took no visitors. Link and Purah made sure of that. Purah ran test after test on Zelda, checking for any lingering effects of draconification or time travel. Link’s head still reeled when he tried to grasp it all. He’d never fallen back in time, though suddenly falling forward was beginning to feel like a theme in his life. Zelda couldn’t recall a moment of her time in the sky, though she believed every word of what Link told her regarding it. She eagerly examined photos of the Light Dragon, her fingers lingering over the images as if they might come to life and bite her. She expressed disquiet at the striking blueness of her draconic eyes, but she could not recall a moment beyond clutching the sword and crying out her final plea: ”Protect them all!” Having been in stasis, much like Link’s initial slumber but for tens of thousands of years, her body needed a little more time to recover and adjust to living on the ground again.

Link stayed by her side, holding her hand every moment. Zelda teased that she didn’t plan on falling down any chasms any time soon. Link tried to laugh.

On the fourth day, the first visitor arrived. Words of the princess’s return spread like wildfire through Hyrule. Ripples of news spread out from Lookout Landing, reaching new ears with every turn of a merchant’s wagon wheel.

The first to approach were Karson and Anson. They knelt before the princess, told her in earnest voices that they were thrilled to see her back, and reported on the progress of the Castle Town Restoration Project.

Link leaned back against the doorpost, watching both young men begin their petitions to the newly returned princess. Anson spoke first.

“Your Highness, firstly, we are very pleased that you’ve returned safe and sound to Lookout Landing!” His broad smile brightened the room, bringing a polite yet sincere return from Princess Zelda. “When you left us, we were in the process of clearing out the debris from around the main square. We are happy to report that the first ring around the fountain has been cleared, and efforts are underway to prepare the space for the first foundations.”

Karson nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! And the first buildings have been constructed along the path to the Landing! We’re still waiting on confirmation from Hudson on who won the bids for those buildings, but we’ll be sure to keep you posted.”

Zelda thanked them for their diligent efforts, assured them of her continuing support for the project, and promised to inspect the completed homes herself when she was feeling a little more like herself.

On the fifth day, new petitions arose.

Josha came in that morning, scrolls of parchment in her arms and a small army of researchers behind her. She bowed low to Zelda, the words already spilling out of her mouth before her head popped back up.

“Your Highness, I am so excited to see you back here again! We were praying day and night for your safe return! My team and I especially worked super hard to help Link navigate the Depths and defeat the Demon King! Link was invaluable to my research team, and I hope we were equally invaluable to his search for you, Your Highness.” She cleared her throat, tossed all the other scrolls onto the floor, and began to unfurl the largest.

“As you can see from this document, Link has assisted us in mapping out the entirety of the Depths. Ah, this is a printout from the Purah Pad.” Josha began, indicating the small Sheikah symbol in the corner of the page. Link, for his part, had no idea what a “printout” was but listened attentively, watching Zelda’s expression for any sign of disapproval or discontent. “We have a pretty good idea of the overview, but we have barely scratched the surface of what the Depths have to offer. As a fellow scientist, I’m sure you’re as excited as I am about all the possible discoveries to be made down there! For instance, in just this short time, we’ve identified several new species of plants, fungi, insects, and new minerals! Or, well, new to us, I suppose.” Josha laughed. “I doubt zonaite is very new to you, Princess.”

Zelda giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “It is not, but I did not have the opportunity to witness the Depths myself when I was in the past. I would like to review your research, if that is acceptable to you.”

“More than acceptable!” Josha exclaimed, quickly picking up the scrolls and handing them to Zelda a handful at a time. ��Oh, my goodness, yes! And, Your Highness, if it would please you, once you have read all of our materials, that is, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble-!” She stopped, realizing she had handed everything over and left the princess quite buried in research notes. “Would you be interested in funding a permanent research base in the Depths?”

“Would I- what?” Zelda asked. She stared at Josha, a bit bewildered by the question. With a quick glance at Link, he took the mountain of scrolls from her and set them aside. “Well, we’re working within rather small margins right now. The kingdom’s income is stretched thin as it is, and until we can rebuild to such a point that revenue meaningfully increases…” She paused.

Josha’s big, childlike eyes pleaded, her hands clasped in front of her. And, if Link didn’t know any better, he might be inclined to say she even pouted.

Zelda sighed. “I’ll see what I can do, Josha.”

The girl squealed in delight, assuring the princess over and over that she wouldn’t regret her decision to support the sciences and that the investment would be paid back tenfold.

The next petition cut more to the point.

Gralens took a wide stance after bowing in respect, his hands neatly behind his back. “Your Highness, allow me to congratulate you on your return to Hyrule. My men and I have done our utmost to keep your kingdom safe from Ganon’s threats in your absence.”

“You have my sincerest thanks, Captain. Hyrule is in your debt.” Zelda replied. She sat up a little straighter in his presence. Link didn’t doubt that her father drilled certain etiquette into her head regarding the proper address and behavior around the military.

Her words seemed to please Gralens. He shifted slightly, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice and remain professional. “Princess, with your return, the tide of our war with Ganon’s servants has at last turned in our favor. Gloom has ceased seeping from the Depths, and we believe this may be a sign that the blood moon itself may soon discontinue. That being said,” The captain briefly locked eyes with Link, though for what message or purpose Link couldn’t hope to interpret, “we are requesting additional funding to raise a fourth monster control crew.”

Zelda tilted her head. She eyed the captain suspiciously, narrowing her emerald gaze. “And why is that? If the tide of the war has indeed turned, why do you require more forces?”

Gralens straightened further. “Put simply, Your Highness, we wish to launch a final, decisive campaign. With a fourth team, we could begin a sweep through every Hylian region. We have so far been focused on Akkala, Hyrule Field, and Necluda. As I’m sure you’ve heard, Faron was invaded by monsters who all but destroyed Lurelin. We did not have the manpower to retake the village. I believe it was your knight who restored that settlement and drove the pirates out.” Gralens again looked to Link. “And while your swordsman is remarkably talented, if a bit reckless—“ Hey!”—he cannot be everywhere at once. We would prefer that he remain here for your protection, Princess, though we will take his aid as often as you can spare it.”

The way that Zelda bit her lower lip, the ghost of a grin on her face, sent heat to the tips of Link’s ears. He was, of course, at her disposal. And yet, the idea of anyone asking her permission to access him always made him a bit uncomfortable in his core. His princess knew this and took advantage of it—often.

“Captain, I understand your position, but the kingdom’s income-,” Zelda began but stopped when she saw Gralens raise a hand to object.

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Your Highness,” Gralens interjected. “I believe the control crews to be a wholly profitable endeavor from the kingdom’s perspective. Our funding need only be temporary. As monsters are cleared out, and the roads and fields become safer, the economy will adjust to fill in the spaces where destruction once reigned. Frightened people do not produce very much, as you well know. I believe it is in this kingdom’s best interest to act now and snuff out the remaining monsters and free up resources for productive work.”

A measure of silence followed this argument. Zelda twisted the hem of her tunic back and forth, mirroring the thoughts in her head. Her lips parted slowly. “Thank you, Captain. I will…consider this petition.”

Gralens bowed low once more, thanking the princess for her time before taking his leave.

On the sixth day, letters began to arrive. Zelda read over their contents with increasing frustration. The spoon in her mouth, which had been used to stir honey into her tea, shifted from side to side as she read. She’d barely eaten breakfast when the demands for the princess’s attention rolled in. After she’d finished each letter, she passed them to Link.

The first letter smelled like fish and river. Link doubted that the Zora had much reason to send paper letters, and likely, the use of ink and parchment was a novelty to the new king, given the smeared characters. Link squinted as he tried to decipher the meaning of the text.

“King Sidon has invited us to a banquet in my honor,” Zelda explained between bites of toast and jam. “It would be rude of the Princess of Hyrule not to attend.”

Link would not comment upon the propriety of a princess to do anything she wished, or didn’t wish, to do. He smoothed the letter flat on the table, careful not to smudge the ink any further.

The second was written by several hands, many of which Link recognized. Mastro’s close hand repeated his desire to have Link join the Stable Trotters as a vocalist. The other musicians expressed their gratitude toward Link in reuniting their band—those sentiments nearly outweighing their greetings to the princess herself. Besides Sidon, very few of Zelda’s petitioners remembered him. Zelda let him write his half of a reply letter to the group, his cucco-scratch taking up the lower half of the page below Zelda’s flowing, elegant script informing them that she would be quite pleased to hear the song they had written in her honor.

The third letter (or packet, rather) conveyed the deepest, sincerest desires of the Lucky Clover Gazette to interview Princess Zelda about “the Demon King, the ancient past, King Rauru and Queen Sonia, the sages, Castle Town, the school program, international policy, and any other topic you feel so inclined to address.” Zelda paled as she flipped through the pages, neatly written on almost two dozen sheets of paper. The cover letter referred to the following pages as “starting points” for this future interview, though Zelda referred to them as ”fucking interrogatories” under her breath. She spent the rest of the day preparing for the imminent threat of the press, leaving the rest of the petitioners to wait until the next morning.

At the conclusion of their seventh breakfast together since Zelda’s return, Link gathered the plates, stacking one carefully on top of the other. Zelda wrote replies with her right hand, her left setting her empty tea cup back onto its saucer.

Link lifted the teapot, testing the weight of it. Not much remained. He’d better brew another pot at the rate she was drinking it. “Princess-.“

”What?! She snapped, glaring up at him. Violet began to make a home under her eyes. “What else could anyone possibly want from the princess?”

Silence crackled between them. Link, taken aback by her outburst, slowly lifted the teapot up to show her. “Do you want me to brew another pot?”

Zelda’s glare faltered, her lips parting in shock at her lack of charity. “Link, I- I’m sorry. Yes.” She frowned, shaking her head. “No, that isn’t sufficient. I’m sorry for snapping at you. That isn’t how a princess should behave.”

The teapot could wait. Link took her free hand in his, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “I think you need a break from being a princess, Zel.”

“I can’t-.” Her voice tightened, tears welling up in her eyes.

“You’re tired.” Link said. He held her gaze, refusing to lose her for even a moment. “You need to rest. Hyrule can wait.” Link took a slow breath in, exaggerating the movement of his shoulders. Out of habit, Zelda copied him.

Her fingers curled around his. “I’ve left Hyrule for months. I have a lot of old work to catch up on, and new work on top of that. I have more to do now than ever.”

“I know.” Link took another breath, watching her mimic him. “But no one said you have to do it all at once.” He squeezed her hand. “Or alone.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away before it reached her chin. “I can’t ask you to do this work for me.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Link reminded her. He gave her a lop-sided smile. “Would you deny your knight the opportunity to serve you?”

A quiet laugh escaped her lips. She shook her head, smiling despite herself. “No, I would never deny you that, Sir Knight.”

[evereverest2]

Anson's Prison

1.8k words / smut

One night. One of many. It has always been this way, hasn't it? He knows no other life.

!!CW!! sexual trauma, religious imagery

just gonna drop this on my page…..

the first story i ever wrote for my oc, anson. to understand this story, just keep in mind his dick is a snake and everyone is a tiefling (dnd style), and also they live in a country called Lusnis nicknamed Lust lmfaoooooooooooooooo and also i wrote this 2 yrs ago

—

He stood on a slightly raised platform looking down at them. They crowded before him, wearing no clothes, their palms outstretched, muttering prayers which did not make sense. 

“Grant me pleasure, grant me mercy.”

It was discordant. They chanted at their own times, no voices ever joined together. They pushed towards him. They fought to reach him, hands hungrily grabbing at him. Their words were like jeers, accusing him of mortality, demeaning him for being lesser than a god.

Anson closed his eyes.

There were maybe half a dozen people surrounding him. Some kneeled, their hands and lips kissing his legs and feet. Some walked behind him, running their hands along his back, chest, stomach. They kissed and bit his neck, they scratched at his skin, they tugged at his pants.

Their actions slowed when the snake rose out. His pants fell to his ankles, and he carefully stepped out of them. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered to wear clothes. They were all here to worship his snake, to experience the all-consuming pleasure which he promised. They wanted to recreate their first experience with him, but Anson knew they never could. With everyone clamoring for his love at once, he could only do so much.

“Praise me, serpent.”

Another cacophony of words.

Those on the ground grabbed his snake greedily, turning their mouths and hands to it. They wanted to be the first one bitten, because they knew he only had so much love venom at a time. Anson’s eyes fluttered. His snake was sensitive and any touch made him aroused. He sucked in a breath, releasing a shuttered groan. 

One woman on the ground turned so she was kneeling faced away from him. The snake shook away from the hands and quickly slid inside her. He heard her loud moan. It slithered in and out of her.

The others became jealous and mimicked her, so he had a row of people which waited for his penetration. Those who were less patient had fast hands which pleasured themselves in anticipation. 

Already he was close to his first orgasm. Anson was always quick to finish but needed no recuperation time to begin again. His snake never stopped, not until his body was incapable of moving. Even after the venom was gone, the snake never stopped. 

It moved to the next person when the woman finished quickly. It was a man, and it had barely entered before Anson was orgasming. The snake struck the man’s thigh, making him instantly climax, injecting him with venom which would make him crave sex for hours. While Anson tried to catch his breath, recovering from the lightheaded sensation of his orgasm, the snake had already entered the next person. 

It wasn’t until the last person in the line of bodies that the snake snapped again, with a less potent dose of his venom, leaving Anson and the receiver moaning and drooling. His muscles were feeling weak as they tensed and untensed with every climax, so he knelt down. He was immediately pushed to the ground into the mounds of pillows and blankets on the platform, and those who he had pleasured minutes ago were upon him again.

Again, he was assaulted with bites and scratches on his sensitive skin, everyone spitting and drooling onto his snake, people begging to meet his lips for a fraction of the venom they knew was running out. 

“Grant me pleasure, grant me mercy,” Someone whispered in his ear, proceeding to nibble his earlobe. The phrase had come from nothing. Utterly meaningless. He had never claimed to be a god, let alone able to grant prayers. Anson had a gift for sex, he was immortal, and his penis was a snake, but that was the extent of his so-called godly power. Nowadays he couldn’t even control the snake. His body was a mere vessel for selfish feelings of bliss which his so called worshippers exploited.

Someone grabbed his legs and split them apart. He didn’t bother to look, anticipating the sensation even before the man shoved himself in roughly and thrusted sloppily. Almost simultaneously, a woman straddled him and his snake entered her without hesitation. His mouth opened as he cried out, and another man forced his erection down his throat. His hands were grabbed and grinded on by various genitals he could hardly recognize as his senses were overloaded.

He tried to relax his body to allow everyone to get their fill. He choked on the man as he moaned out. His body felt incredible, but his mind was on fire. The snake bit the woman and she rolled off him, only for someone else to stick the snake down their own throat. His body shook and tensed, quickly becoming overwhelmed. Tears leaked down his face. He felt the man finish inside him. His left hand was dropped and someone else entered his body, presumably the same person. The man in his mouth didn’t bother to pull out before finishing down his throat, causing him to cough and choke as he left. Words meant for him drifted in and out of his ears, more senseless devotion which held no value to him. Every sexual advance was a blur as they all sought their own climax, their heavenly euphoria. They wanted the snake’s uncontrollable violence, they wanted to destroy their god, if only to watch him rise up again.

And then there were bodies around him, breathing heavily as they tired and fell asleep, their bodies light with euphoria. 

Anson was shaking, crying, trying to catch his breath. He held himself as he stared up at the ceiling, trying to regain the use of his body. His mind was foggy, and he didn’t know how long they had feasted on him. How many times the snake had lashed at someone. He sat up and looked around at his abusers, all covered with the fresh marks of his snake bites.

“Are you okay?”

A woman sat on the steps of the platform. He recognized her, because she hadn’t yet succumbed to the mindless love zombies who worshiped his body. He blinked his eyes as he attempted to comprehend her.

Every now and again he would tire of the constant orgies he was dragged into every few hours and leave for a while. He performed his music, and he would meet someone which made him immediately crave the intimacy that only a single person could offer. They always treated him ever so gently and romantically in the early days. After the first time, he would repeatedly meet with them, desiring reprieve and some simulation of love. Over and over, until they were sick of waiting for his company, until they yearned for his venom more than life itself. They always followed him home, only to be assimilated into the throngs of sex addicted tieflings. 

She had followed him home yesterday evening. Her lack of experience in his love nest was laughably clear in her choice to remain in clothing. Still, she held a beauty that he was weak for, the reason he even had sex with her the first time. Her wide golden eyes looked at him with a sense of concern and confusion, and she reached over and clasped his trembling hand in hers. Looking upon her beautiful face, he tried to capture the image through the distortion in his head. Soon, she may be consumed by lust, and would lose that unique look he loved.

Anson rarely spoke to his hoards of worshipers. Communication was through the body, through sheer salacious romance, through the meetings of moans and erotic sighs. So he crawled towards her and fell onto her lips, kissing her passionately with all the venom he had left in his body. He undressed her, his hands mindlessly exploring her breasts and stomach. The snake rubbed against her clit as it twisted inside her. She was immediately filled with his love, with pleasure, opening her mouth and legs, closing her eyes. 

Anson was surprised when one of the men suddenly grabbed his hips and started thrusting into him again. Apparently, they were not yet done. He fell to his elbows, face just above the woman’s, wailing as he lost control of his body. His arms and legs shook as he held himself up, as the man pushed into him and he pushed into the woman. His tears dripped onto her arduous expression.

She murmured with a smile, “Grant me pleasure, grant me mercy.”

Anson lost control of himself. He sobbed and screamed, an orgasm ripping through him. The snake bit both the man and woman. They both rolled onto the pillows and blankets and breathed heavily, their bodies being eased into exhaustion and sleep with the rest of them. He clamored to his feet, unable to feel his legs as he stood and hugged himself. 

Semen dripped down his legs and chin. He was covered in the sweat and saliva of too many people, the snake slick with vaginal lubricant. His body was numb, muscles overworked, the snake hanging limply with no target to please. He felt disgusting. 

He looked upon the masses. Perhaps he was a god, one who was perverted by those who believed in him.

He left the room and drew himself a bath. Finally, he was able to calm himself down, to cleanse his mind and body. He ceased his cries and hiccups, becoming stoic again. 

When he was purified of the night’s sins, he went to his bedroom which no one was allowed to occupy– as if such a commandment should stop them. At times, they would appear while he slept, with him only awakening as he climaxed. Now he locked the door. 

He needed time to recuperate his venom, to break free of the lewd will of the people. Even if he was physically capable of having infinite sex, his contemporary mind was slowly degrading as he was desiring it less and less. He, who instructed and nurtured the waves of sexual life in Lust, now craved abstinence from the very ones he guided.

But he was a slave to them, and he was a slave to his body. His body still craved sex, his snake quick to fill up every greedy sinner who bent down in front of him. Anson’s body was a prison, trapping his own will. He was afraid of what would happen if he stopped having sex– if he should wither away to nothing, or if he should stop experiencing the orgasmic highs and never feel happiness again.

So he succumbed to the prayers, to grant them pleasure, to grant them mercy. He succumbed to his body, his snake, his constant state of arousal. And he succumbed to sleep, to prepare himself for the next day.

[txemrn]

Keep Your Head Up

Book: TRR/TRH Post-series

Word count: ~2325

Song Inspo: "Keep Your Head Up, Princess" - Anson Seabra

Warning: fairly fluffy (no one dies!); tiny sprinkles of angst, mentions of bullying

A/N: I am participating in week 21 of @choicesflashfics prompt challenge! I chose prompt #2: "I look at you and my heart breaks because all I see is loneliness.” The prompt will be in bold.

A/N 2: Most of the characters and some of the plot points belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Please excuse my errors! Also, if you are curious about Royal Roulette: it's a fun little challenge you can do anytime for yourself! Take your music and hit mix! Take the first song that pops up, and use it as a muse for a fic! No need to credit me, but do tag me if you do it because I LOVE reading other RR!

~🖤~

"Where is she?" Liam grits his teeth, frantically glancing around the ballroom before turning back to his head guards. A strangled-growl drips from his words, a crimson hue coating his vision. "Can anyone tell me where the hell she went?"

Not waiting for an answer, he pushes open the heavy, ornate double doors to exit the ballroom before bounding down the side corridor that leads to the grand staircase.  Each step he takes becomes quicker, angrier, and despite being in full regalia, his walk becomes a run. Once he reaches the living quarters of the palace, he takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches her room. And he knocks softly.

When she doesn't answer, he raps against the polished wood once more. "Love?" But again, she doesn't answer.

He sighs, his jaw ticking, knowing that he needs to speak with her. To hug her. To hold her. 

To tell her that he loves her.

He turns the doorknob, inviting himself into her room; but upon entry, he notices the darkened room is empty. Her bed is still made, her belongings untouched.

He lets out a heavy sigh, turning on his heel to search elsewhere– that is until he hears the soft rustle of taffeta from the large, oak wardrobe on the far end of the room.

A smirk grows across his face as he saunters to the closet. Of course, she would pick this as her hiding place.  Her favorite book was The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe from C. S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia. Staying quiet, he cautiously approaches, leaning in closely, just to verify he heard correctly.

And suddenly, a breath hitches as a quiet, almost inaudible sob continues.

And the fibers of his heart begin to splinter, shattering into a million shards on the ground.

He thought he could protect her and shield her from the snide comments and hateful glares. The judgment from the public was bad enough, but the turned up noses and undercut statements made by nobles could be relentless. Seeing her bright light and contagious laughter stolen at the ruthless words of bullies seeped a new level of sadness into his heart.

He gently taps on the door of the wardrobe. And instantly, the movement stops, retreating back into hiding. "It's me," he softly whispers, "Daddy."

After a brief, silent pause, the hatch unlocks, the door swinging open to reveal six-year-old Eleanor tucked in the corner underneath her winter coats. Her pink ball gown is scrunched up around her body as she hugs her knees, her trusty stuffed lion Fabian under her arm for cuddles. Her freckled, cherub face is swollen and blotchy, wet from her tears. Her hair remains in a blonde French braid with pink jeweled barrettes, fixed by her mother for the evening.

"Eleanor?" Liam quietly crawls onto the floor, pulling his ankle under his knee to crisscross his long legs. He takes a deep breath, his crystal gaze matching hers as she coyly watches him like a frightened animal. "What's wrong, Squirt?"

A large tear slopes down her nose as she tucks her head lower into her arms. She remains silent.

Liam gently clears his throat. "Why aren't you down at the Baron's ball?" Again, the young princess remains quiet except for her rhythmic sniffles. 

He turns his attention to her feet, noticing her beloved pair of black Converse high tops. And he can't help but smile. Gosh, he loves his girl. 

Eleanor has always marched to the beat of her own drum. She showed interest in so many different things, playing with both dolls and toy cars, eager to play soccer and climb trees while also hosting tea parties and playing in her mom's makeup. She was rough and tumble, but loved glitz and glam. She wasn't too fond of wearing heavy, itchy ball gowns, but when Riley suggested she wear her Chuck Taylors like a comfort item, their daughter couldn't wait for the next royal function.

That event was tonight.

"Princess," he sighs, "I look at you and it breaks my heart because all I see is loneliness.  I want to make whatever this is better, but I can't unless you talk to me." When she doesn't budge, Liam glances back to her high-tops, and remembers she was debuting them tonight. He taps on them. "Did you show your friends your cool sneakers?"

Eleanor looks up with a scowl before putting her head back down. "They're not cool," she cries.

Liam's eyebrows furrow with curiosity. "What do you mean they're not cool?" He reaches over and grabs her foot, playfully inspecting the shoe. "These look pretty cool to me, but then again–" he tickles her knee, "--I think the person wearing them makes them the coolest shoe ever."

Eleanor looks up with a pitiful smile, wiping at her face with her arm. Her brilliant blue eyes match her father's, more ablaze from being red with irritation. She quickly climbs out of her corner, and reaches for her dad; but before her arms could reach him, he was already pulling her into his own embrace. She clings tightly to his neck as his large hands rub endearing circles on her back.

"They said they were stupid."

"What?" Liam looks down as his daughter readjusts to sit in his lap. "Who said your shoes were stupid?"

"The other girls," she holds out her feet, knocking the toes of her shoes together. "They said that real princesses don't wear boy shoes."

"And how would they know? You're the only princess in that ball." He boops her nose causing her face to scrunch with a genuine smile. "Uh, Squirt, where are your glasses?"

Her elation died at her dad's words. "I don't want to wear 'em, Daddy." 

Liam extends his arm into the wardrobe, pulling out the purple bifocals, holding them out in his hands. "Why not?"

"'Cause…" she fidgets with her skirt, "I'm not pretty with them on."

"Squirt," he places his finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. "It's impossible for you to not be pretty. In fact," he smooths out her dress before pushing back a gold wisp of hair. "You are the prettiest girl I know."

"Daddy," she bashfully singsongs.

"What?" He sits up a little taller. "I know these things. I am a king." He chuckles. "Now, about these glasses–"

"--I don't want to wear them."

"But they look so pretty on you, Eleanor," he unfolds the glasses, offering them to her. 

"They give me four eyes. And-and I don't want four eyes, Daddy! What if they turn into five… or six?" She drags her fingers down her cheeks.

Liam titters to himself. "Who told you glasses give you 'four eyes'?"

She crosses her arms. "Stupid boys."

"Eleanor," Liam warns, "you know we don't say words like that about others." 

She pouts harder, slumping in her father's lap. 

"Let me show you something," Liam points to her eyes. "You have one… two eyes right here, but you need glasses to help you see, right?" She nods. "These," he looks at the eyewear in his hands, "are like having another set of eyes. See?" He points to each lens, "three... Four."

"Oh!" A wave of understanding crawls across Eleanor’s face. "Four eyes!"

"Right," Liam snickers, placing an endearing hand around her back. "People say it to try to be rude, but honestly, all they're pointing out is that you wear glasses. That's it."

"Oh," Eleanor considers her father's words before continuing.  "But they said I was ugly in them. And I don't want to be ugly, Daddy."

"Hrmmm," Liam thoughtfully looks at her glasses, and then slips the small pair on his face. Clearly made for a child, the eyewear pinches tightly at his nose and across his temples. "Am I ugly?"

"No," Eleanor giggles, holding a hand over her mouth.

"But, I thought these glasses make people ugly–"

"Daddy!" She squeals, "you're being silly!"

Liam chuckles, hearing her laugh again. He takes off the glasses, cleaning them off against his shirt. "Eleanor, do you know why princesses wear crowns?"

"Because they're princesses," she answers proudly. "And crowns are pretty."

Liam reaches over to a wooden chest next to the wardrobe that is filled with costumes, play clothes and accessories. He pulls out a plastic, gold crown with bright pink jewels glued around the band. 

"Crowns," he continues, holding the toy crown in his hand, "help princesses keep their heads up."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah, huh!" Liam jovially retorts.  "See, some people can be very mean. And because you are a princess, you're an easy target for people to be mean. But do you know why they're mean?"

Eleanor innocently shakes her head, her attention glued to her father's words.

"They're mean because they're jealous."

"Jealous?"

"That's right," Liam nods. "You have something they don't have. It can be a pretty dress or a pretty smile," he pinches her cheek. "Sometimes it's simply because someone else hurt their feelings, and they want someone else to hurt, too. They're jealous of your happiness. They think that if they're mean, it will make them feel better."

Liam takes the toy crown and fixes it to her head. "Being part of the royal family means you have a lot more things, that you are given a lot more opportunities than people not born into nobility--which, you should never, ever be ashamed of. But we live our lives in the public eye, so people from around the world know how privileged we are."

Eleanor taps her finger on her lips, knitting her brows together. "So… they get jealous?"

"That's right, Squirt," his lips slowly curl. "They can." 

"But, Daddy? It… it still hurts my feelings."

"I know it does, baby," he pulls her in close to his chest, "I know it does. But just remember: those mean words are not true." Liam looks up at the gaudy crown on his daughter's head. "So, that's why princesses wear crowns. That's why you wear a crown, Squirt. It's there to remind you that when people say mean, untrue things about you, keep your head up. Don't listen to them. You don't want your crown to–"

There's a sudden thud on the ground.

"Oops!" Eleanor’s hands fly up over her mouth as she looks at the plastic crown that slipped off her head, crashing to the floor.

Liam rolls his eyes before offering a kind expression towards his daughter. "Come here, Squirt." He wraps his arms around her, placing tender kisses in her hairline.

"Daddy?" She slides on her glasses. "Is it too late to go back to the ball?"

"Ehh," Liam shakes his wrist, his watch turning for him to read. "It looks like the night is over."

"Aww rats," Eleanor deflates, "Uncle Maxwell was going to play Baby Shark for us to dance to."

"Well," Liam stops, glancing down at his daughter. "Do you still want to dance?"

Eleanor’s eyes light up as she eagerly nods her head. She grabs her father's finger, guiding him to an open area of the room. "What should we do for music?"

"I've got an idea." Liam bends over, holding out his hands, curling his fingers into a C-shape with his thumb. "Ba…by… shark! Do-do-do-do!"

Eleanor squeals, joining in with her father singing and doing the hand motions. They both dance around the room, creating their own dance party they both would never forget.

------

Baron's Ball 10 Years Later…

The rubber soles of her Converse high-tops tap hypnotically against the polished ballroom floor. She anxiously chews on her nails as she watches the other noble children laugh and dance amongst the parents.  

She had spent the better part of a day getting ready for the annual event: hair curled, pinned and hair-sprayed into place; make-up carefully fixed to the features of her classic beauty; her baby blue ball gown perfectly tailored to her budding womanly curves.  But even though she felt beautiful, she remained nervous of facing the other kids, and she knew she would probably be left alone, no one wanting to dance with her.

Life for Eleanor didn't get easier at royal functions. The bullying and backhanded comments continued over the years. It hurt, but the desire to hide and cry became weaker and weaker as she remembered her father's words so long ago.

Keep your head up…

"May I have this dance?"

Eleanor’s pedal pink lips curl into a bright smile as she turns towards the familiar baritone voice. "Daddy, you said you were going to stay in the–"

"And miss the chance to dance with my beautiful daughter?" He beams.

A soft blush crawls across her cheeks as she takes his hand, following his lead to the dance floor.  After a cordial bow, they begin to waltz, their feet gliding across the floor with ease.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"Oh, Squirt," he nervously titters, "someday you'll be queen, and these dances with you… well, they'll just be an old man's precious memory."

Eleanor scoffs. "I will always save a dance for you."

Liam laughs. "You might want to take that up with your husband. If he knows how much of treasure you are, he'll never let go–"

"Excuse me, your majesty?"

Liam and Eleanor stop at the timid voice, turning to see Bartie Beaumont mid-bow. 

"Son?" Liam gives a curious, yet humored glare.

"I was wondering, that is, if it's okay with you… oh! And if it's okay with your daughter… um…" clearly nervous, the young man takes a cleansing breath as he wipes his palms against his slacks. "May I have this dance?"

Liam turns to his daughter, noticing her eye's brightening by the moment with anticipation. And he smiles. He takes her hand, guiding her closer for Bartie to take it. As they begin to bow, Liam clears his throat, making both Bartie and Eleanor freeze.

"I'm watching you, Beaumont."

"Y-yes, sir," Bartie swallows thickly.

"Daddy," Eleanor growls.

Liam takes his cue and begins to walk away–that is, until he turns around again. "And leave some room in between–"

"Daddy!"

~🖤~

Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤

~🖤~

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[dduane]

In the digital art dep’t: Smiling a bit at this...

Down in the comments on the post where Harry Callahan first appears:

Re Anson Mount: I’m assuming that’s off Harry’s hairstyle. (cheerful shrug) I can live with that. There are worse things on Earth (or other planets) than looking like Chris Pike.

Meanwhile, as for breasting boobily at things: Let’s deconstruct the problem a little. We’ll pull Mr. C. out of that background and take a closer look.

First of all: this is a Daz figure called “Dain 8”, who (after a significant amount of shopping around...) I chose to stand in for Nita’s dad.

Anyway, as usual, I made adjustments in the basic figure to match his description in the text: a bit husky, as befits his work as a florist and (because he does this kind of work too) groundskeeper: muscular guy, strongly built, skin tone of someone who spends a fair amount of time outdoors. Let’s dump the jacket for a moment.

One thing that kind of jumps out of the general physique: the pecs.  They’re what’s giving that jacket so much trouble.

...Honestly, pecs seem to be a bit of a thing with a lot of Daz’s builders of male characters. There seems to be sort of a consensus: “If we can’t give them big, uh, private parts, we’ll give them big pecs.”

...Let me pull the shirts off the local major players for comparison’s sake.

Left to right: Harry, Carl Romeo, Tom Swale, Herewiss and Freelorn. ...Anyway, you see the problem. Most of these guys are moderately well pec’d up, and no matter how they stick out or don’t, every single set of those pecs has interfered with their clothes at one point or another.* At one level, this is a problem with Daz’s software.

Without getting too technical: clothing sufficiently advanced can be caused (using Daz’s dForce animation system) to drape over body contours, with greater or lesser levels of success depending on how well the clothing is constructed. As below, where Harry’s jacket has gone through the process:

But depending on clothing textures and the way the light is falling... things can get unavoidably booby. You wind up having to balance the needs of the rest of the scene—in terms of lighting and the way shadow falls—against how the clothes look. Sometimes the clothes don’t come out perfectly due to (among other things) the positioning of a character’s limbs. (I.e. the way Harry’s arms had to be positioned to be holding the pumpkin in front of him.) But trying to make them do so can cost you hours of labor which may or may not advance the project as a whole. (shrug) In a case like this, you pays your money and you takes your chances.

Meanwhile, I’m going to turn in before I start complaining about the generally crap state of men’s three-piece suits (for Carl!) on this platform... :/

ETA: per @man-and-atom​‘s comment on ubiquitous definition: Well, Tom and Carl are (and gods rest them, in reality were) gym rats... as wizards in their positions have a responsibility to keep themselves better-than-usually physically fit. And Dusty and Lorn—as princes expected as a matter of course to go into battle, to satisfy their ruling families’ and realms’ political obligations—are both trained warriors from childhood; and due to being rigorously schooled in weapons- and armor-handling, are going to pick up some def no matter what they do. So... (shrug) We’ve got an image full of outliers here. Can’t be helped.

*Noting to myself that I really need to get some work done on Herewiss’s and Freelorn’s skin colors, as neither of them should look anything like as pale as they do. The problem is that it’s the figure designers who determine skin colors... and attempting to tinker with them can cause endless problems with display. (sigh) One more thing to think about...

[sapphyreopal5]

Hey

So I’ve been reading your posts and wanted to thank you for replying to asks with so much information and research.

As for last ask I agree with you on somethings like the difference between the way each wife uses her husband’s fame and name for her business, one would go overboard to use the children too (their privacy or mental state) just eww .

As for the prequel, I believe jared had some sort of idea but I believe he forgot about it and when he saw it on his tl because of his fans asking about it he went and made a fool of himself and his only solid "friendship" in this industry because let’s be real he doesn’t hangout with CMM or milo except in fanfics.

I believe the people around him (anson/clif/wife/charlie/stand person/few drinks) they all encouraged him to make this tantrum

But what would jensen’s professional reply would be, he can’t say i didn’t tell him because I forgot about him because we haven’t spoken since forever?

Should he say we haven’t been hanging out after the show because we don’t have to do PR for the show ?

Should he say everyone could see we stopped being friends since tge last few seasons and you all could tell something went wrong so much so they went at it at a con and fans could hear gen screaming about not wanting Jen near her kids and jared couldn’t say a word to her ?

He had to just say my bad I forgot to tell him 🤷🏼‍♀️

The fans who went after jensen till this day (jared fans , j2 fans who were pretending to stand jen but don’t have to anymore ,said in their own words btw ) took it as an invitation to keep slandering Jensen and his co workers his projects his wife and even his kids , they posted wishing him dying instead of that poor woman on rust they made her death his fault

They made the guy who got hurt on tw his fault and he wasn’t even there, many sets have accidents, some have injuries or deaths but they continue on like deadpool for instance but with jen they make it the end of the world and a gotcha moment to use .they even used jared’s arrest and him getting drunk and hitting his workers jensen’s fault because he wasn’t there with him .

They said jen is after easy money from cons but when jared confirms every CE con plus international one they suddenly lose their voice.

Jen works hard and jared who’s been going to hooters and restaurants with half naked women to serve is suddenly the man who can’t be a way from his wife and kids ! The ufc fanatic is the family man but jen is the abusive father.

The double standards are well and a live in this fandom.

Sorry this took forever and full of mistakes 🙏🏻

Hello Anon, welcome back. So I think I get the gist of what you're saying here despite the mistakes. I know fans on both "sides" will say things like "oh well, if Jensen did this same thing everyone would be down his throat about it", same with Jared but for different things. Me personally, I see everyone's flaws as I've said in multiple posts in the past because I tend to see myself as an impartial person. It doesn't mean I dislike someone and it doesn't mean I like them, I just have my criticisms of just about everyone and my praises for at least some ha ha. For the whole signing up for every other CE con and international convention, I noticed a lot of other actors are suddenly signing up for them. I think these writers and actors strikes from last year have made a lot more of them interested in doing other things to get money based on things they already did as opposed to things they will do or are auditioning for. Nothing wrong with generating more income to feed their expensive lifestyles you know? I know at one point people speculated Jensen has some stock in Creation Entertainment because his prices for next year went up $30 for photo ops and such. Well guess what, it turns out so did Jared's. Creation and other conventions set the prices NOT the guests, point blank. They just determine their own fee to make them appear as a guest at their conventions. Good grief, the moronic shit for speculations I see coming from people in this fandom at times...

I agree that there are some really strange double standards going on in the fandom. I don't know if I'd call Jared a UFC fanatic but I will say that he isn't this perfect husband a lot of people try to portray him as being. Going to watch fights a lot, frequenting places like Tilted Kilt, Hooters, Coyote Ugly, etc. with and typically without Gen, leaving the house pretty much every chance he gets, etc. I've written about this before but I do know that Jared's wife Gen tends to "tune out" when it comes to his struggles.

If you ask me, I do not believe sending him to the clinic 9 years ago was the right idea to be honest. What he needed was to be at home with his loved ones, NOT the clinic. Sure he's going to say it helped and so is everyone else. I'm also not one to really support going to a clinic for depression unless it is so severe literally nothing outside has helped. I have a lot more I could say about this but I will refrain from saying it publicly so I don't get stones cast my way. I support mental health and getting help... but they jumped the gun sending him to a clinic and frankly screams to me that someone just didn't feel like dealing with him. It's interesting that this trip to the clinic was NOT confirmed by him until earlier this year via that interview him and Gen did together. Some speculated it was possibly Gen herself who went to the press and "spread the rumor" so to speak as the "source close to him" or whatever. Why on Earth she or someone else would tell some non mainstream media company this I don't know. Doesn't seem like someone I would trust for damn sure. Also quite hilarious Gen decided to lighten the mood by sharing her naked in the hotel story after "doing what married couples do". Yeah sure Gen, because that story was at all plausible (then again I think she's absolutely a daft woman)...

I will say that with Jared's arrest and such, this frankly to me was NOT that serious and not serious enough to result in an arrest in my personal opinion. He did own up to this on his own esteem. Anyone who blames this or other actions like this on Jensen or anything else he does clearly on his own free will without a gun held up to his head is crazy. The things that people wish upon others like Jensen should've died not Halyna are just... I don't know what the right word for that is. People get angry about the most absurd things and then they go overboard with what they think someone should endure as punishment for what they think is a sin.

Overall, I do think that the double standards in this fandom is absolutely nuts like you said Anon. I believe in seeing the reality of things not seeing through rose-colored glasses EVER and also in telling it like it is. Thanks for coming back Anon, I'm glad you appreciate my posts.

[artemis-entreri]

Meet the newest Dungeons & Dragons party in the first epic adventure of The Fallbacks. To become renowned adventurers, this party needs to survive their first job.   Tessalynde is an ambitious young rogue who dreams of leading Faerûn’s foremost adventuring party. While the crew she’s gathered isn’t the stuff of legend yet, she’s confident her guidance can get them there.   The team: Anson, a fighter too stubborn to stay down, even when the odds are stacked against him. Cazrin, a self-taught wizard determined to test her theoretical mettle against the real world. Baldric, a cleric who refuses to tie himself to a single deity when he can trade favors with them all. Lark, a bard with as many secrets as songs. And, of course, Uggie, a monstrous pet otyugh who loves giving hugs and eating trash.   Their first job: recovering a mysterious spellbook from a lost temple for a hefty payout. Tess hopes this assignment can turn her group of fledgling freelancers into a true team. But when their client is killed, their coin and his murderer both vanish, leaving the party to take the fall.   Stuck with a sentient, bloodthirsty grimoire and pursued by mercenaries and the undead, this is hardly the mission Tess envisioned. Her crew must save the day, get the gold, and clear the party’s name—which they haven’t even agreed upon yet! With the threats against them mounting, a single mistake will see this party over before it even begins.   Can this band of mismatched misfits stay together in the face of danger? Or are they bound for ruin?

[[ owo What's this? A new Forgotten Realms book that isn't about Drizzt? Are FR novels making a return? Will it last? Only time will tell! ]]

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 7 Competition Training Day

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

You woke up the next morning and headed to the San Diego Lifeguard headquarters.

"Good morning," Lieutenant Jaason Anson said when you reached the building. "You're looking a little tired this morning."

You looked at him. Jaason stood about six feet with the typical surfer blonde hair and blue eyes, that were currently hidden behind a reflective pair of aviator glasses.

"Long weekend," you respond.

"When aren't you busy?" he asks as the two of you walk in to the building.

You had met Jason during swim practice last semester and he was the one who convinced you to apply as a lifeguard.

"Between you and Finley, I don't know who says that the most."

He had tried asking you out a few times, but you politely declined and the two of you became good friends. Then when he told you about the lifeguard competition, because he knew you would get the lifeguard job, he started helping you train for it.

You stop in front of the women's locker room and look at Jason.

He smiles. "It's going to be a great training day. I can feel it!" He yells.

You roll your eyes, open the door to the locker room and go in.

Fifteen minutes later, you walk outside in a black TYR one piece swimsuit and a black swim cap in your hand.

Jason was already outside holding a red rescue can and he looks at you from behind his aviators. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." You answer as the two of you walk to the first lifeguard tower.

"Let's start with a slow jog down the beach. Nothing too hard. I think, no, I know you've got this. Just like I knew you'd get this job. You're a smart girl, Y/N. Shit. You have to be with your jobs."

You smile. "True."

You reached the lifeguard tower and Jason placed the rescue can on the deck. He then proceeded to take off his t-shirt, revealing his well built chest and abs, and placed that on the deck.

"You ready?"

"Yup. Let's do this."

The two of you started a slow jog down the beach.

Jake stepped out of his red Ford F-150 that he parked in the beach parking lot and looked at his watch. It was nine o'clock. He didn't want to make it seem like he was stalking you.

He was wearing black board shorts, a Navy workout tank, black sandals and a pair of Ray bans. He leisurely walked up towards the beach when he saw Y/N run out of the water and past a blonde lifeguard in red trunks and a white lifeguard tank.

The blond yelled something and he saw Y/N get so excited that she jumped into his arms and they hugged excitedly.

Jake slowly walked closer.

"Y/N! You're going to break a new record if you do this!" Jaason exclaimed. "I knew you could do it!!"

Jaason looked into your eyes and you stepped away. Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you saw Jake. You turned your head. It was Jake.

"Jake?" you question yourself and Jaason looks at you, confused.

"Jake?" he asks as you start walking towards Jake, but still standing there.

"Jake? What are you doing here?" You ask when you get near him. You feel Jaason right behind you.

"Finley said you'd be here. Why didn't you just say something? I would've understood."

You sigh. "I think it's time we talked."

"Y/N. You okay?" Jaason asks.

You turn around and look at Jaason. "Give me fifteen minutes."

"Sure. I'll be at the tower," he says and walks away.

"Come on. Let's walk."

The two of you start to leisurely walk down the beach.

"My life is hectic and complicated," you start to say. "My parents died right before I graduated high school. They left me enough to pay for college and I lucked out that my dad was a veteran, so that helped me pay for college. Along with a few grants. I'd always known I wanted to be an aquatic vet, and I worked hard to get here. I was a lifeguard and rescue diver back home and that also helped to pay for me to get here, but during that time, I met a guy." You paused a second. "I should've known, but he said all the right things, but then the right things started to become wrong. I figured out he was abusing me mentally at first and then the physical started. He was rich. His parents had money. He told me I needed to stop what I was doing and just become a trophy wife. I didn't want that, so I left one night and headed here." You paused again. "The message I got yesterday was from him. He'd found me. He probably hired a private investigator." You stopped and looked at him. "You don't want to get involved with me."

Jake stepped closer and cupped a hand on the side of your face. "Y/N. You are the most intriguing person I've ever met. Also the first to make me feel like I'd lost my dating game."

You chortle.

"I think I'll make that decision," he said as he pulled you close and his mouth was on yours. Sweet and caring. He had a calming smell of beer and leather, but you sensed a side of toughness and cockiness.

When you parted he looked at you, his green eyes caring. "I've been wanting to do that since yesterday at your truck."

You grin.

"HELP!!" You hear someone yell and you quickly look out at the water.

"HELP!!" You hear again and then you see a person pointing towards the water and then see Jaason running towards you with a rescue can.

"Let's go! I called it in!" he says as you grab the rescue can and leave Jake standing there as you run towards the water.

You and Jaason run into the water, leap into the waves, and towards the area you saw the person pointing at. When you get there, you look at Jaason.

"She's gone under. I got this." You take a deep breath and dive.

The water here was probably about ten feet deep. Thankfully the current wasn't too bad today and the water was pretty clear.

You spotted the girl slowly sinking to the bottom and quickly swam to her. You grabbed her under the arms and started swimming back up to Jaason's feet. When you broke the surface, you looked at him.

"She's out. Let's go."

The two of you started swimming towards the beach and as soon as you hit the sand, you laid the girl on her back.

The rescue team was on it's way.

You check her vitals. "No pulse and no breathing. Starting CPR," you say and give the girl two breaths and then start chest compressions.

The rescue squad arrived and a male guard ran up to you with an AED machine. You check for a pulse again.

"Still no pulse," you say as the guard starts taking out the pieces on the machine.

"Stand back," the male guard said as he pushed start on the AED machine.

"My baby!" a female voice yelled and you saw Jaason get up and head towards the voice.

You started concentrating on the AED machines directions. You gave the girl another two breaths of air and the machine shocked the girl.

All of a sudden, the girl spit out water and started coughing.

"Pulse detected," the machine said.

"Mommy!" the young girl said.

"I'm right here, Amelia." A woman's voice responded.

"I got this, Y/N," the male from the rescue squad said.

"Thanks, Vince." You get up and walk over to Jake. "I've got to do the report and then I'm done for the day. You can leave if you want."

"I'm staying right here," he responds.

You shrug. "Suit yourself. Let me finish this up and I'll be right back."

"Take your time. This is your job."

You smile and head back to the scene.

Jake had waited patiently outside after the near drowning and also after you wrote your report in the building. You walked out of the building back in regular clothes with Jaason next to you and he points to Jake when you get outside.

"So, are you going to introduce me to your friend?" Jaason asks.

"Jaason, this is Jake. Jake this is Jaason," you say to the both of them.

The two of them shake hands and Jaason looks at you again.

"And how are you two related?"

"I'm Y/N's boyfriend," Jake responds quickly.

Jaason raises and eyebrow. "Boyfriend? I didn't think..."

"It's a long story, Jaason," you respond.

"Well, you'll have to tell me about it sometime. Other than that, I think you're good with the competition next weekend." He looks at Jake. "Will you be there?"

Jake smiles. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Well, it was nice meeting you." He looks at you. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yup."

Jaason walks off and you turn to Jake. "Girlfriend?"

"What Hangman wants, Hangman gets," he responds with a sexy grin and you laugh.

[wraithsoutlaws]

7. silent fury - for Dagger maybe? c:

tw: light gore also i am tagging @faepunkprince for asking the same one <3

There’s nothing holy about the church. A glorified lean-to in the middle of the desert, propped up against the shell of an old garage that still smells of ammonia from the drug production that once occupied it. Three lifetimes of blood stain the rotted floors, but an empty husk is an empty husk, and rats always need a home. Dagger’s not sure who built the altar, but he knows believers aren’t any different from addicts anyway. They’re all just looking for something that feels good.  “Shoulda kept it as a coke den,” he remarks, stepping through the makeshift arch and staring down the cross like God himself can feel the intensity of his gaze. The place is empty save for a few turned over crates meant for pews but he doesn’t sit down. His muscles are stiff. It’s easier to pace, to walk the aisle–three steps toward the entrance, three steps back toward the cross. Repeat as needed–and he does. A rigid hand rakes through his hair before pulling for a cigarette. His mama would scold him for that. Smoking in church. The wind whispers in a voice that sounds familiar. Anson James, what would God think? “Who cares?” He can see her sitting beside him in her Sunday best, a ghostly pale dress that illuminates milky skin, lips pursed into a flat line. He barely has time to smile before he notices the stain swirling across her belly and all those guts spilling onto the floor. The wind kicks into a howl and he stops in his tracks–frozen suddenly, though he tries to move, his feet betray him. The shadows in the chapel grow taller and he watches her die again, blood filling the sockets where her eyes used to be until there’s nothing left except an old ache in a cobwebbed heart. The wind quiets against the pounding in his ears and dust settles like ash at his feet.  The stillness is fleeting. Something lurches inside his chest, an animal, clawing violently at its cage.  It takes a single breath to reach for the knife in his belt and send it cutting across the room. He doesn’t blink when the blade explodes into the wooden cross, dead center. He goes for another without a second thought, lethal precision nesting it right beside the first. The third sings through the air like a choir. The fourth makes a symphony. Music to his ears. He only stops when he’s out of knives. Sharpened steel sits in the cross like a bouquet, and there it is again. That whisper back to haunt him. Anson James, what would God think? He wants to scream until his throat is bloody but he bites down on his tongue instead, slowly pulling the blades from the cross one by one, a sense of forced calm in the stiff movements. His voice falls flat to the floor. “That he’s made a grave mistake.”