#that show will probably go off the rails a bit in the next seasons

[so-you-melted-22]

the more i learn about stranger things the more i realize that it is really just one long scp tale that was slightly altered for consumption of the general public.

[lfghughes]

Wonderstruck

a/n: have had this sitting around in my requests and i just love this entire idea. so i rambled a bit and might make another part idk yet

warning: alcohol, creepy guy who cant take a no

Instant regret, that’s what you had. It had nothing to do with going out and everything to do with the bar that you had chosen. Not that really going to a different bar would have a different result, there would always be that one creepy dude you persisted on being around but right now there was one that was driving you insane. But you were also genuinely creeped out and trying to find a way out and any time you would turn your attention elsewhere he would make sure to get your attention again.

“Here let me get you a drink.” He told you and you quickly shook your head. “My boyfriend is grabbing us drinks right now, I’m good.” You told him but you had a feeling that this plan wasn’t going to work considering there wouldn’t be a boyfriend showing up with drinks in hand at any point tonight. Why did you even use that excuse? “Are you sure because I didn’t see you with anyone?” There it was, the dread building up.

A hand went to your back and you froze slightly as you turned your attention upwards to a face that seemed familiar but you couldn’t quite pin where you had seen him before. “Everything okay, babe?” He asked and looked between you and the guy who had been bothering you. Perfect opportunity falling right into your lap and you couldn’t be more grateful. “Honey, you didn’t bring back drinks.”

“I was waiting on them and noticed you looked a little uncomfortable. So again, everything cool here?” This time he directed his attention to the man, raising a brow as if it to challenge him. “Because I’d really like it if you didn’t make my girlfriend uncomfortable so how about you head on out of this bar before I get pissed.” This guy was an angel. A hot angel if anything. Next thing you know the creep finally left you alone and you couldn’t be more thankful for not only this guy stepping in but going along with everything.

“Thank you so so much.” But he was already waving off your words as if he didn’t completely save your night from being ruined. “I’m going to go outside for some air, wanna come?” He asked and in most cases you wouldn’t really just take up this offer but it was just right outside and your creep radar wasn’t going completely off the rails with this guy. You followed him out, leaning against the wall of the bar. 

“Are you from around here?” He asked and you shook your head. “I moved here a couple of months back so I’m still trying to figure out this whole place. I’m sorry but you look really familiar.” You were still trying to figure out where you could know his face. A chuckle left his lips as he scratched the back of his head. “Are you a hockey fan?” He asked and you shrugged at the question. “Growing up I’d go to games with my dad. He’s a big bruins fan but I wouldn’t really say I watch it unless he gets us tickets when I’m back home or it’s on the tv.”

It was definitely a bonding thing but not your thing specifically but you were slowly starting to piece together the information you were slowly getting. “Well I play for the team here, the Panthers. I’m Matthew Tkachuk.” You suddenly understood what a lightbulb moment really felt like. “Ahhh, you’re the kid who upset my dad a month back by taking out his favorite team. Makes a lot more sense now.” A laugh left your lips as an amused grin grew on his. “Send your dad my apologies.” He placed his hand over his heart as if he was truly sorry but you could tell by the smirk on his lips he wasn’t. 

“Maybe when the season starts again you can come to one of the games, I’ll hook you up with tickets. Maybe even make you a fan of a much cooler team.” There it was again, that smirk that was making you completely melt so all you could do was nod. He took out his phone handing it to you. “Put in your number and I’ll text you. Not in the fall by the way, I plan on texting you probably later tonight asking you out for drinks or dinner.” A hot blush grew on your cheeks at his words. “Well I will more than likely answer that I’m definitely free tomorrow after work if you want to grab dinner.”

[thisbuildinghasfeelings]

hi Anne! for nice ask week, if you were in a room with the lone star writers and could ask them one question, what would it be??

Ok, my first thought is to demand that they explain the timeline 😂 But the only purpose behind that would be my own satisfaction when they were unable to do it. I don't think I should waste my one question on petty spite.

Next, I considered asking "What is everything that happens to Tarlos in season 5?" But do I really want to know that ahead of time?? As much as I can barely stand waiting another 5 months to find out what happens in the next season, I don't really want the whole thing spoiled for me. Watching it play out and speculating about what will happen next is a big part of the enjoyment.

Then, I also considered "Tell me everything about TK's past" because I want to know so much more about his childhood, his addiction, his relationship with Enzo and with Owen's 2nd wife, etc. But actually, I kind of doubt that the writers have that developed in detail. I think on shows like this they probably only plan out what they need to. If they want to include some aspect of TK's past in a future episode, they will come up with it at the time. So I don't know if I would really get an answer to this from the writers that's more satisfying than the one I can create for myself from my own imagination, fic, and the pieces we already know from the show.

I have ultimately settled on "Can you tell me everything that you were going to include in season 4 but didn't?" because there's a lot I want to know. Originally, there were different titles for the final two episodes: "Off the Rails" and "Two Weddings and a Train Wreck." Were these just working titles as they were breaking the episodes? Did they actually have episodes written that fit these titles only to completely change them? Or were the titles just some kind of decoy?

And Rafa talked a bit in post-finale interviews about how events in the last few episodes were moved around. It looks like the Gabriel storyline was supposed to begin in 4x16, which is clear when you look at the fact that Carlos is wearing the same outfit in the scene where Owen calls them about his Huntington's test results in 4x16 and the scene where Carlos asks Gabriel to be his best man in 4x17:

I think it's clear these scenes were supposed to be the same episode.

We see the same kind of thing in the way that TK and Carlos are wearing the same outfits in this scene that was later replaced by the soulmates scene:

and the scene where Gabriel comes to the loft in 4x17:

Obviously, the Gabriel stuff and the Huntington's stuff was happening simultaneously, probably in 4x16. But then what was happening in 4x17 and 4x18?? Was there more wedding? (Probably not) More Carlos spiraling after his father's death? Were they going to just have the Wyatt stuff happen in 4x17? But that doesn't really seem like it gives enough time for that story to play out by the end of the season. There's just so much I want to know!! That would be the question I would ask because I think it would give me the most interesting answer.

[grayskyalt]

little writing practice snippet thing

for the au where show Lloyd ends up in another universe where the only major events went up to like season 2 minus misako abandoning loid

read after the more if u want

-

Lloyd felt himself instinctively flinch after a gust of wind blew past him. His grip tightened on the Bounty's railings. Out of the corner of his eye, Lloyd could see Kai staring at him.

It wasn't his Kai though. His Kai wouldn't wonder why Lloyd flinched at something like the wind. His Kai wouldve gone over to him just to be near, just so Lloyd knew Kai's presence was there.

This Kai only stared in interest. He was probably pondering that very question.

Lloyd turned around to see that Loid, this world's version of himself, had finally made his way out to the deck. Lloyd felt his stomach twist whenever he saw Loid's golden eyes, golden armor, or that dyed brown hair. It was like seeing a miniature version of his dad. He quickly became nauseous upon the thought of his dad.

"Sooo, what are you two doing?" Asked Loid, his voice chipper and still raspy and higher pitched. Apparently the tea incident never happened in this world either.

"Just catching my breath," Lloyd responded, "we're landing in Ninjago City next, right?" Loid gave a curt nod. Lloyd turned around again to look out into the distance. He wondered if Cyrus Borg was around, or how far technology advanced. He'd heavily questioned them beforehand about Borg Tower, only to be met with the fact such a tower didn't exist in this world. Only a memorial commemorating anyone who lost their lives during the Final Battle.

At least they can call it the Final Battle, Lloyd thought bitterly. For him, the Final Battle only became the first of many battles. For Loid and this world, it stopped there. Nothing more other than minor skirmishes and petty crimes.

The hope was to first find Cyrus Borg or Mystake, whoever could help deduce what brought Lloyd into another dimension in the first place. The ship came to a slow stop.

"Sorry guys!" A voice yelled from up top. "The winds are becoming a bit too wild for it to be safe to cross these mountains. We'll have to fly at a lower altitude and wait it out for a bit" Nya explained, walking down to the deck. Lloyd only now noticed that Jay and Cole were right behind her.

"So while we have to wait, how about we test your skills?" Kai offered, a cocky grin on his face.

"Knock it off Kai" Cole teased, jokingly punching Kai in the arm.

"You don't have to accept!" Kai affirmed, still rubbing the area where Cole punched him.

"I wouldn't mind" Lloyd responded, not letting his expression change. After all, he was rather curious about the Ninjas skill level too. "5 v 1 or 1 v 1?" Lloyd asked, nearly catching himself from saying 6 v 1. Nya hadn't been trained in this world as the water ninja.

"Now what makes you think you can handle 5 v 1?" Loid asked almost cautiously, with curiosity creeping into his voice. "You'll have to see" Lloyd smiled, leaving everyone slightly confused and challenged.

"How about we four go agaisnt him first, then we have the two loids duke it out!" Jay suggested, making a big hand motion when he described the loid fight. Loid and Nya backed up to give the rest of them space. The golden weapons had also been combined into the Mega Weapon before being sent off into space, thought the Overlord had not returned in this world.

Yet, a sadistic thought crept in. Lloyd hadn't gone in depth about his own timeline to the other ninja, maybe out of some selfish desire to see them go through the same suffering he had to.

...

He'd tell them later.

For now, Lloyd readied himself. He didn't power up or grab a sword. Zane gave him an odd look. Lloyd ignored him.

"And begin!"

Lloyd let Kai charge at him first, easily side stepping his advances before catching Jay's nunchucks. Jay was stronger than he thought, so Lloyd flung into a Spinjitzu tornado before throwing Jay onto Cole. A shuriken barely whipped past his face before Zane came and attacked with his other shuriken. Lloyd punched and dodged before getting abruptly kicked from the back and jumped to avoid Cole's scythe swing. Kai and Jay both used Spinjitzu while Cole and Zane kept him distracted.

So their fighting skills aren't all that bad, Lloyd thought to himself. Even though they lacked precise coordination with each other, it was still difficult to keep track of all 4 of them at once. Lloyd finally pulled out a small knife from his belt to block Kai's katana, his knees almost buckling from the amount of weight Kai had put into the swing.

He let go of the dagger and let Kai's sword fall to where Jay's nunchucks were swinging. Zane came at him again with both his shurikens while Cole came up behind him. Lloyd managed to out maneuver them again, but he was already panting. The others seemed much more exhausted than him, so Lloyd stretched his arms and taunted them again with a hand motion.

He really didn't want to use his power, if he needed to, he'd want it to be a surprise. This time Jay came at him with a Spinjitzu tornado, only he was much slower than what Lloyd was used to seeing. He simply moved out of the way and decided to go Kai first. Kai frantically tried to block with his swords at Lloyd's sudden advancement, with Lloyd taking out another dagger to disarm Kai.

A sword flew out of Kai's hand. Lloyd strained his arm upwards to catch the sword before kicking Kai to the ground. This fight has gone on for too long, Lloyd's mind echoed, it's time to end this.

He stood his ground in the middle and let the four of them surround him.

"We've got you cornered now!" Cole shouted enthusiastically, visibly tightening the grip on his scythe. The other three seemed equally prepared and confident. Lloyd slowly started to smirk. First Master, he had missed feeling this powerful.

He finally let green energy flow through him. The others didn't attack, but stared in wonder at the way Lloyd's eyes glowed and his hands produced bright green light. It must've been surprising, he'd already seen Loid's power and knew that his training had mostly gone to his golden power. Lloyd's mastery over green energy far surpassed any of the ninja in this world.

Zane was the first to react, but was still too slow compared to when Lloyd suddenly brought his hands together opposite parallel.

Lloyd started to hear a slow rhythmic clapping, and whipped his head around with everyone else to see Master Wu descending down the steps. "Your skills are masterful and powerful. I think it's safe to say my ninja do not hold a candle to you" Master Wu commented, his eyes twinkling with pride. "I-uh thank you Master" Lloyd stumbled, the words feeling like they were just spilling out of his mouth.

Green energy expelled everywhere as he moved his hands I'm opposite directions. It looked almost like a shockwave as the energy easily disarmed everybody and sent the ninja to the ground.

Lloyd walked over and reached his hand out to help Kai up, feeling awkward as Kai didn't grab his hand but instead continued to stare in disbelief.

Master Wu gave a warm smile, his gaze resting on everyone. "That being said, you all did wonderful and have clearly improved since the last time I have seen you all." Lloyd could see a few smaller smiles being exchanged between the ninja. Lloyd looked back over to where Nya and Loid was only to freeze.

His father. Not HIS father, but he wasn't even that different from the father Lloyd used to know. Garmadon met Lloyd's eyes with a look he couldn't place to any specific emotion. Lloyd looked away. He could feel his hands shaking from just meeting Garmadon's eyes.

"... Lloyd, how long have you been training with your green energy power?" Master Wu asked, staring right at Lloyd. He thought for a few moments. "5 years? Give or take a lot actually there were a lot of circumstances that made it difficult to track..." Lloyd answered, unsure of how he should go about answering that. He wasn't keen on explaining why he was several years older than Loid or why he wore green instead of gold.

He could tell that everyone knew he was hiding something, they just didn't know how much he wanted to keep under wraps. For now, Lloyd's lips stayed shut.

"It's nearly 7 and it looks like these winds won't be getting any better soon," said Garmadon. Lloyd gave another flinch from being startled, if anyone noticed, no one gave any indication. "Let's head inside and prepare dinner."

As everyone started to walk inside, Lloyd let himself take another deep breath, doing his best to ignore the bite of the wind.

Just a few more weeks, he told himself. It can't be much longer. But there is always the chance another portal can never be opened again, a lingering thought in the back of Lloyd's mind made itself known. He shook his head.

He didn't want to think about that possibility.

[huggybug]

you and matty have been in europe since the season ended. you saved the best place for last, paris. your dream of being here with your price charming had finally come true.

you were looking out at the view of the city from your hotel balcony. you had a perfect view of the eiffel tower. you leaned on the railing looking around as people and cars passed by. the sun was setting and you and matty were getting ready to go out for a late dinner. just as you were going to check on matty he presses up against you. pinning you in place against the railing.

his hands gripped the railing next to yours. you looked down at his hands. they were double the size of yours, his veins were popping aggressively. you smile and lean into him. placing your hands on top of his.

“you know this dress hugs all your curves the right ways. it’s my favourite one you own” matty says in your ear. he presses up against you, this time you don’t miss the erection going in his pants.

you go red and lean forward again. “oh really?” you smirk as you look down at the road below you. “mhmm” he hums in your ear. pressing himself up on you. his hand trailing up your thigh and slowly lifting your dress up.

“matthew we have dinner soon” you stop his hand and look at him

“are you really going to have me go out like this” his says pointing to his crotch. his dress pants perfectly outlining his dick. you bite your lip before you look up him.

“let’s make this quick” you say about to walk back into the room. matty grabs your arm pulling you back to him “i have an idea” he smirks

he pulls you back how you were before against the railing. he starts pulling your dress up again. “matty what if someone sees us?” you asks as you look around at other rooms, no one was around.

“then i guess they’ll get a show. better make it good” he exposes your whole ass. pulling your thong down until it just falls to the ground.

you squeeze your legs together as a breeze of wind hits your exposed body. “spread them baby girl”

the wind passes and you open your legs enough for matty to get his hand between them. he play with you before slipping two fingers in you. “shit” you gasp as the feeling

he just continues to pump them in and out of you. you were on your tip toes as the sensation hits you. “fuck right there baby”

still curling his finger in you. he kisses your jaw line and down to your shoulder. “you’re so fucking sexy my girl” he removes his fingers from you and works at his belt and pants.

his dick springs free and hits your ass. he grabs his shaft and strokes himself as he plays with you some more. making sure you stay wet for him. he bends you over a bit more before teasing you with his tips. dragging it through your folds right before entering you. he stretches you out as he slips in. your mouth falling open, letting out a groan.

he waits a bit for you to adjust before moving. he starts off slowly but doesn’t take long to speed up. his hands move to your shoulders as he finds his momentum. you were holding the railing for dear life as you had nothing else to hold on to.

he brings one of your legs up on the railing. he groans as he’s able to get in you deeper. “fuck matty this feels so amazing”

he smirks thrusting in and out of your hard. if it wasn’t for the nosies of the city. everyone of probably hear your skin on skin contact. he goes to rub your clit as you back your hips into him meeting his thrusting.

“oh fuck me” throwing your head back on to him “keep going baby. i’m almost there” you tell him

you bring your leg down and continue to meet his thrusts. matty’s hand slide down your body to your hips and ass. holding them tighten as you started to pound into you. getting himself closer.

“oh god, matthew, fuck” you scream out just as you reach your high. shorty after matty stay deep in you as he releases his load in you. “shit baby, your pussy is so fuck good to me” he tells you before he pulls out, backing away. you turn around and kiss him.

his cum now dripping down your thighs. “i need to clean up before we’re late for dinner” you pull your dress down. you bend down to grab your thong but matty beats you to it.

“these are mine now” he says shoving them in his pocket with a smirk

“seriously matty. we have to get going”

“then you better go clean up so we can leave. we don’t want to be late now do we”

“i hate you” you say stomping away

“would’ve never guessed that thirty seconds ago” he teases

-nick smut anon…you’re welcome 😘🤍

get me to paris rn.

[sins-and-wins-with-vix]

Everything Right/Wrong with Ninjago “Legacy of the Green Ninja” E10: Island of Darkness

Disclaimers: Show owned by LEGO. This is not a professional review/critique - it’s mainly intended for comedy!

Reblog, comment, and/or like! And make sure to tell me your thoughts!

- Intro ✅

- “Ultimate Spinjitzu Master?” Ultimate Spinjitzu Master is either the coolest or dumbest title I’ve ever heard. ❌

- Lloyd has dragon powers now because aromantic Lloyd canon ✅

- “Hahaha, jealous?” Yes. ✅

- “This sounds too good to be true… what’s the catch?” Knowing this show, probably trauma

- By s8 we’re supposed to believe that the FSM represented balance between both oni and dragon, but based on the dragon powers, dragon-shaped islands that make up Ninjago, and overall dragon-like theme to most of his belongings, I think he might’ve been a bit biased ❌

- “If you come across your father, it could prematurely start the Final Battle.” But the Final Battle is a prophecy, right? Seemingly with a time, location, and outcome all set in stone, based on the way you all seem to talk about it, so there wouldn’t be a way to start it “prematurely” ❌

- Also, this show acts as if the idea that destiny is inevitable is common sense. Therefore, what’s even the purpose of attempting to stop it if it’s already certain that you can’t? ❌

- “I could use some help around the shop!” What shop? You’re on an island! Old age really is getting to Julien, isn’t it? ❌

- “We should get working on vehicles that might help give us a fighting chance!” Julien says vehicles, plural, but then only makes one. No wonder he gets killed off by next season - you don’t tease lego with ideas for toy sales and then only deliver on one! ❌

- “Have you ever known us to veer from a plan?” Funny, but technically, they don’t veer from plans because they usually never have one in the first place. They usually go in 98% blind, and when they do have some sort of plan that goes off the rails, it’s usually not their fault. ❌

- “Then tell him…” Apparently, he didn’t have to tell him because the soldier responded to Garmadon, no translation from Kozu needed. ❌

- “Should I have shaken my fist more? Maybe dramatically thrown over a table! Or kicked over a-“ “NO YOU MYOPIC MORTAL!” This is so f*cking funny ✅✅✅✅

- “Look! This must be Garmadon’s camp?” “No, you think? I thought it was a takeout restaurant!” Fun fact: Garmadon owns at least 8 Taco Bells’ ✅

- “Quiet you bozos!” Why is so much of the dialogue this episode so good? ✅

- “So, how did you meet him?… no, my father.” “You know, he wasn’t always evil…” Misako goes into this rant because it was less awkward than telling Lloyd about the strip club ❌

- This fight scene is cool, and really shows off how much Lloyd’s powers have grown, and we’ve seen it all throughout the season. At least, we were supposed to, right? That was the point of the filler episodes - to show us how his powers grow and develop, and we did see him training, but at the same time I feel like we just… didn’t, ya know? ❌

- “I spy… another tree!” “Jay, how did you ever become a ninja, seriously?” This is one of my favorite lines in the entire show ✅

- “If we go in there, they’ll know we’re here too!” As oppose to what - them thinking one of the members of the team is here, on this dangerous island swarming with indestructible soldiers, without any backup whatsoever? Come on, the ninja follow each other around like lost puppies pretending to be wolves! ❌

- “Why don’t we ever listen to [Wu]?” Because he rarely gives you anything to listen to, and when he does, he’s cryptic about it, and you’re only meant to understand it moments before certain death. ❌

- Where did Garmadon get popcorn from?? ❌

- “Uh, we jump into that hole!” Jay was moments away from dooming them all. ❌

- This entire escape scene with the boards is awesome, especially with the soundtrack ✅

- “Perhaps it can be of use?” Was that a reference to the bus token thing from Pirates Vs. Ninja? ✅

- ^Zane is wearing the suit he has yet to get ❌

- ^Unlike Julien, lego must love Nya

- The Stone Army’s vehicles are currently driving up what’s nearly a 90 degree angle ❌

- “Hah! We made it to the top!” Jay has a very delayed reaction before saying this ❌

- Also, they are very obviously not at the top ❌

- ^ Cole, I love you ✅

- “No one move!” Zane says, in Cole’s voice ❌

- It’s at this point that I implore you to watch this episode, or at least this scene, because it never gets old. The music, the framing - everything is on point. Even the suit designs look epic. ✅

- and the way the music rises as Lloyd does this spinning thing ✅

- And then he drops to the ground and Kai is worried about him ✅

- And all of them getting separate segments to show off their powers! ✅

- I know I’m a winning streak, but I can’t just ignore the fact that Jay’s lightning conducts through wood ❌

- And then they casually throw this Cole dancing thing in here ✅

- “My turn” oh sh*t- ✅

Sentence: It’s Lloyd’s turn on the Xbox

[russilton]

the max getting shitfaced and seeing george in lewis' flat au got me all 👀👀👀 what was the general idea behind it??? and assuming max gets absolutely dunked on, what did george say to shoo him away? - @ruszhou

Alrighty so the general idea actually starts one step backward, with an exhibitionism fic.

Sue me, when I say George would let Lewis fuck him in front of people, I mean it. And what’s a better way to address your friends newly growing gay realisation than to have him watch you get lovingly railed by your hung boyfriend.

This is also partially @thatsmemate’s idea because I, like all simp boyfriends, will expand on ideas she finds exciting for her attention. Anyway the exhibitionism fic never got finished, or started really, I have a sorta detailed middle smut sector, then I hit a bump where I couldn’t figure out how to continue, and ended up getting side tracked writing a prequel/set up about max getting plastered and showing up at lewis’ door to say sorry.

That… idk maybe some day? I’ll finish? It sorta follows max in the 21 season slowly realising that redbull sucks. And that he also sucks, and that he can’t keep deflecting blame onto Lewis and Merc and others, if he is the root of all his issues. Sort of taking in all the friends he “had” at redbull that got thrown under the car for him to get ahead. Pierre, Alex, daniil, perez. He can kind of rationalise it as the team tell him they just weren’t good enough, they’re just bitter. But he keeps feeling sicker with each race result. The stuff he says doesn’t feel right anymore. He can’t stand the voices around him that try to pad his ego. Then AD happens and he’s feeling weird and wrong when he runs into George who he’s hoping will punch him. Physical pain he can fight and all. But Lewis calls him not worth it and that’s what fucks him up bc it’s so much worse to get told he isn’t worth it. Plus George’s hatred he can’t justify as well (though if max knew he and Lewis were fucking he probably would have been able to).

Then in the weeks following AD he drinks a lot and isolates himself before getting really fucked up and going to see Lewis himself bc that’s the benefit of Monaco, where he is greeted with George, and then promptly passes out on their couch.

The next morning comes with talks and accepting blame and an agreement to do better

———

And there’s not much more to it than that! It started out as a sort of cathartic way to approach making a bigot deal with their actions.

I am white, I’ve never been in Lewis’ specific position and I don’t pretend to, but as a trans person there are some similar things I’ve experienced and god do I want some of those fuckers to realise their lives suck and that making mine worse won’t help them.

At the time I could sort of write it bc I could still split fic max from IRL max. But then the season continued AND all the piquet shit happened… it just ended up feeling wrong to write. And that’s happened with more drivers tbh, max is for sure the WORST, but, perez , alonso and sainz I also avoid mentioning. Norris and albon are on that edge. I just ended up wanting to focus on other drivers who don’t make me feel conflicted.

Exhibitionism isn’t off the table tho, that’s what I have a George/Lewis + Valtteri fic for hahaha.

Fuck it here’s another bit of that fic bc I think George is funny even if I might not return to it

———

Alone. Even when he’s dragged back inside he feels alone. The back slaps from partying engineers start to hurt. He can’t hide anymore, Lewis ripped him open with just 3 words. Not worth it. They echo in his mind, never leaving, he can’t bare to look at his trophy. Not worth it. He spends time online, tucked away in his apartment in clothes long since needed washing, reading what Lewis’ fans say about him. ‘Not worth it. He watches his own fans try to attack Lewis for being vocal, then for staying silent. He sees all the dehumanising things they said at his defence. Not worth it. He watches his own interviews, feels sick listening to himself talk. He is sick when his dad visits and berates him for not properly enjoying a win he deserved. It’s no wonder that between resting his head on a freezing toilet rim berating himself, a very expensive bottle of Whisky and a few unanswered calls, he finds himself on Lewis’ doorstep. They didn’t live far apart after all, most drivers in Monaco didn’t. He doesn’t even remember how he got there, but he knows he must look like shit when Lewis opens the door to his flat and his eyes widen

“Max, what are you-, holy shit man are you okay?” Even after everything Lewis is concerned, and that’s all it takes for the walls to finally crumble. If he wasn’t so drunk he’d have been embarrassed by how quickly the tears poured, heaving sobs as the shame crashes over him. Lewis is so much more than he’ll ever be and Max has built an empire on rotting foundations. He doesn’t know what to do, how he’s supposed to fix all this, and now here he is on his rivals doorstep sobbing like a bitch.

Lewis has every right to slam the door in his face. Max would. But Lewis isn’t Max, instead he steps forward immediately, hands hovering as he tries to figure out what the hell is happening, making max weep harder, finally choking out strangled sorries between sobs. As soon as Lewis hears that, he’s tugging max into his flat, shutting the door and wrapping a strong arm around his back and guiding him over to soft and cosy couches, making him sit. Max is lost in his own tears for a while, only sort of registering Lewis setting a glass of water in front of him, and slipping Max’s phone out of his hand to rest on the table. Max is far too drunk at this point, the exhaustion of lacking sleep and food combining with the alcohol into a mix that makes him black out. It’s getting fuzzy, but max is pretty sure that there are more than one set of hands guiding him to lie down, pulling off his shoes and tugging a big blanket over him. There are fingers in his hair, trying to calm him down, and they work too well, max slips into a restless sleep as soon as his breathing stops coming in hitching shudders.

When he wakes, it’s bright out, and his head is pounding worse than after he hit the barriers at jeddah. His mouth is dry, and his limbs ache. His face is sticky and neck stiff from the awkward angle and polo collar he’s apparently slept in. When he can blink one eye open past the blinding light that makes his head scream, he realises he has no fucking idea where he is. He shuts his eyes again and wills the couch below him to swallow him whole, so he doesn’t have to get up and face whatever mess he’d created. He may not remember anything, but he knows a crying hangover when he feels it.

“Ah, the visitor awakens”

A sudden voice speaks next to him, and Max practically bolts up, completely unaware anyone was with him. This turns out to be a mistake as his gut rolls violently, and he hides his face in his knees to try and avoid vomiting.

“Oh Jesus, careful idiot, you’ll throw up,” the unknown voice says, getting closer and then there’s a hand on his back, rubbing between his shoulders

“Lew, hon grab a trash can, I think the couch is in danger” Lewis. He’d shown up to Lewis’ flat last night, that he now remembers. But the voice next to him isn’t Lewis, that’s clear, some part of max knows he’s heard it before. It only takes a couple seconds and then there’s shuffling next to him, and the couch dips on his other side. The movement sends a new ripple of nausea through him, and when he squints an eye open, he’s glad there’s now a small office trash can between his legs.

“Hey Max, good to see you awake” Lewis voice is calm and welcoming, which is a shock considering anyone who was awoken by a sobbing drunk in the early hours of the morning had a fair reason to be annoyed. It takes max a second to reply, waiting till he’s mostly sure he isn’t going to hurl as soon as he opens his mouth.

“I… I feel like I have been hit by a truck”

“You certainly look like it” that’s the unknown voice again, and Max finally manages to open his eyes enough past the dull throbbing at his temples to see who it is. To his complete surprise, none other than George Russell perched on his other side. George looks rumpled, usually well sculpted hair flopping softly over his forehead. His face looks softer, at least softer than max had seen it in a long time, and he’s wearing a big yellow sweater with a 100 across the chest that max is near certain is Lewis’. George must notice the dawning confusion in Max’s eyes, because he sighs and hauls himself up, before turning back to max and Lewis

“I’m making coffee, this is not a conversation I can have uncaffinated”

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS Fic: “Believing Impossible Things”  {Part One}

Whew! I’m here (sorry for pushing this so close to the wire on my posting date!) Anyway, this is Part One of an intended three part fic, my entry for this year’s @cssns event. I apologize if there are any typos or other such errors as I was working on this right up to the last minute.  I also have to thank my lovely artist @o-wild-west-wind for the gorgeous fic cover art she has created for this piece. It’s so lovely, but in an effort not to give too much away, we’re just posting a teaser section of the art with this first chapter, and the full work with Part Two soon.

 My beta @romanceapologist was kind enough to give me early feedback, which I very much appreciated, and @zaharadessert and my friend Jessica (who isn’t on Tumblr, but is a lovely sounding board for me as a writer all the same) helped me come up with a title.  I also have to thank @pirate-owl for the prompt and picset she created some years ago now, which first sparked the idea for this story. She gave me her generous blessing to go ahead and try to make it my own and write a full story for it, and I’m truly grateful.

Summary: Miss Emma Nolan needed the governess job badly enough to ignore the gossip about the old mansion and the chilly reception she got about the lady of the manor. And when she met young Alice Jones, she knew she had made the right choice. But some rumors are rumors for a reason, and maybe the little girl who drew her there isn’t the only person on the estate in need...

“Believing Impossible Things”

by: @snowbellewells 

part one ~ the house at the top of the hill

Even as she reached the crest of the gentle rise she had been climbing, the petite blonde nearing the old rambling mansion in the early morning light was scanning from the tall spires and gables of the imposing gray house before her at the top of the hill.  More than a bit awestruck as her eyes trailed down to the solid front door and gingerbread railing of the wraparound porch, she was both intimidated and impressed. Smoothing her skirts and tugging down the sleeves of her slightly too-small and a season out of fashion dress and jacket, also the best and most professional-looking she owned, the young woman blew out a breath, vowing once more to make a calm, competent impression. She might be more than desperate for a job, she reminded herself, but she could not let her need and fear show through.

Miss Emma Nolan squared her deceptively slight shoulders, gathering reserves of inner strength which most would not recognize upon first glance, and then stepped onto the wide, stately veranda of the rambling home where she was set to interview for the position of governess. Granted, she probably shouldn’t have told the assistant manager at her previous place of employ to ‘sod off’ before assuring this worked out, but she wasn’t making nearly enough to deal with a frightfully overbearing manager attempting to put his fingers on her whenever others weren’t looking. If he had a bit of a sore jaw to remind him to pay a little more respect to his next underling, Emma couldn’t say she was sorry.

Those who didn’t know her - and they would be many; she had grown up an orphan, was guarded and largely kept to herself in early-learned self-sufficience - would see a slim, neat but modestly dressed young woman, quite attractive with blonde hair and sparkling green eyes in a fetchingly lovely face. In short, she might not appear formidable, until one learned she was tougher than her appearance would suggest. She was slow to trust until another person proved worthy, but those few who genuinely knew her could understand the stubborn determination in her small frame, the spine of steel which held Ms. Emma Nolan upright against the cold, cruel would and the bravery that bolstered her soul. And those people knew not to underestimate her.

Yet, determined or not, she would need a bit of luck and a fair chance on her side to come out of this situation as she needed. What she had reluctantly come to accept was that she was a single young woman, basically alone in the world when it came to supporting herself and making her way. She needed another job, one she could count on to be reliable and stable - and she needed it soon. This monstrosity of a house might look daunting, and she had heard all the local whispers of gossip which were more daunting still, but she set her jaw, tilted her chin up and reminded herself it must be this one. She might not need much for herself alone, but she did have to eat.

Nearing the heavy front door, Emma hopefully admired the lovely scrolling accents to the beams and railings, painted a clean, bright white against the duller gray of the outer walls. Forcing herself to move slowly and with a calm she didn’t feel, Emma raised a mostly steady hand to knock upon the heavy front door.

She was startled however, into jerking her hand back quickly to clasp before her when the door abruptly opened without warning. Making her rather more uneasy still, it at first seemed to Emma that no one stood on the other side, as if the sturdy portal had opened of its own independent power, or by some supernatural magic. Yet, given a few more moments, a light, airy giggle sounded, causing Emma to look down and see a head of riotously curling light nutmeg-brown hair belonging to a little girl, peering up at her curiously, a perusing look to her tilted head and squinting eyes, and mischievous grin curling her rosebud mouth. “Hullo there,” she chirped. “Who are you?”

Almost without thought, Emma found her own head tilting in intrigued study as well, mirroring the playful sprite still gazing at her from the doorway, childishly chubby hand still clutching the elegant doorknob, with fingertips that appeared slightly sticky with lingering jam or marmalade. This must be her potential charge - and the very first one upon whom she ought to make a good impression.

“Hello indeed,” Emma greeted, offering a hand to shake cautiously. “My name is Emma Nolan. And you are?”

Twinkling wide eyes crinkled with guileless welcome as the little girl’s grin broadened to beam at her fully. “I’m Alice Lianna Jones, Miss Emma. How lovely to meet you! Though it is rather curious… I didn’t know anyone was coming to see us today.”

Stunned by her well-spoken forthrightness, Emma was speechless for a moment. Though this was almost certainly the child she was interviewing to govern, she hesitated to say so and speak out of turn, not wanting to ruin her chances before she had even begun. The world was still running (though not as well as Emma privately figured it might) on the idea that women were better served to speak as little as possible and at least appear to think or see even less - traits that she found particularly chafing more often than she’d like to admit. Despite those concerns, the little girl staring up at her intently as though trying to decipher her motives from the features of her face, seemed so jovial and friendly, Emma hardly wanted to upset or distance her. Perhaps she did not yet know she was gaining a governess? Or that the one she might already have was being replaced?

Shaking away the scattered thoughts ricocheting within her, Emma hoped that her smile appeared unconcerned as she offered her hand for the bright-eyed child to shake just as she would have if the girl were mistress of the house. “In that case, I must apologize for my unannounced arrival,” she offered politely, her green gaze returning the mischievous twinkle of the youngster’s own mirth, “though I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Alice giggled in delight, her cornflower blue eyes crinkling up at the corners and the sweet sound warming Emma’s heart in a sort of instant camaraderie that she had found all too rarely in her life thus far. Her left hand still gripping the doorknob for balance, the child dipped into an only slightly off-kilter curtsy, her merriment still obvious as she shook Emma’s hand in return. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Milady,” she returned in what Emma assumed she found an approximate imitation of a stuffy upper class woman greeting visitors to her home. Feeling utterly charmed, Emma merely nodded in response and concentrated on pressing her lips together tightly so as not to laugh at the rather incongruous effect.

Mere moments later, the lighthearted mood was shattered abruptly by the strident shout of Alice’s name from inside the huge house, followed by the quick clip of high heeled shoes on marble growing louder as they drew ever closer. Alice’s little hand jerked out of Emma’s grip and the curly head dipped to stare at her shoes as she withdrew slightly before the unseen speaker scolded. “What do you think you are doing, answering the door to a stranger?”

Emma’s startled and more than a bit concerned gaze shifted hurriedly from the child she had been pleasantly engaged in talking with to see that a tall, stone faced woman had now appeared at the young girl’s side, seeming to fill the whole of the doorway with an unsettling presence that could not be ignored. She had not missed the way Alice had immediately withdrawn; seeming to shrink in on herself protectively, that sparkle which had shown from her cherubic face instantaneously dimmed. Given the opportunity, she would want to get to the bottom of that; she felt a deep concern for Alice already, regardless of having known her for only moments. There was enough in her own past to turn Emma’s stomach at the possibilities for why such a vivacious child would recoil so suddenly from one meant to be a caretaker, none of them pleasant to dwell on. That also served to galvanize her resolve in the face of the nerves she had been battling. Not only did she fervently need this job; it would seem this child needed her here as well.

Holding her tongue - just barely - the strong-willed side of Emma’s nature inwardly cheered to see that though her new little friend had gone wary and still, she hadn’t fled and was still watching hopefully from behind the door. Realizing that now was the moment to employ every scrap of the poise and charm she often struggled to muster, knowing too much hard reality and harsh fact to trifle with fancy sensibilities, Emma redirected her attention to the ramrod straight and unsmiling matron before her, frighteningly pale with wildly storming eyes burning from her wan face and hair vividly, shockingly, red in contrast to the rest of her.

Ignoring her disconcertion, Emma held out her hand, feigning polite obliviousness in what she hoped seemed proper respect and propriety. “Pardon me, Ma’am. It would seem to me that you are the person I had hoped to see. I’ve come in response to your advertisement.” Again she hesitated to be specific in front of young Alice, not sure what she knew, but with every tense minute that passed, she wanted to reach out to the children more and more. Any sane, average person might have decided this was highly tense and uncomfortable silence was not to be borne and turned to flee, but Emma’s innate stubbornness rooted her to the spot in waiting. The immediate warmth and affinity she’d felt for young Alice Jones becoming a sixth sense which allowed her no other recourse.

Just when it seemed she might not get any further than the front stoop, nor any answer at all, the other woman did look down her nose at Emma for another moment before clearing her throat, flicking her wrist impatiently as if to gesture her forward, then stepping back just barely to allow emma passage. “Very well. Come in we shall get down to business.”

Emma’s brows rose in startled surprise, not expecting the abrupt change in bearing from the stern scrutiny which had preceded it. Deciding not to question the development that suited her or hesitate before the winds changed, Emma nodded smartly and slipped into the stately home before the door was slammed in her face. The fact that a shiver ran down her spine as she stood in the hall, awaiting further direction, was something she forced her mind to chalk up to a perverse flight of fancy. Nevermind too that the high-ceilinged space seemed more dark and shadowed than one would normally expect on a bright, clear morning, or that the temperature seemed too cool and chill for the temperate balminess she had just experienced outdoors. Such nonsense was surely her own nerves spinning out of control.

The woman who was no doubt Mistress of the house closed the door behind them, the sound of the latch locking back into place making Emma’s heart lurch in her chest in a way she couldn’t well explain. “This way, if you please,” the formidable matron intoned coolly. She stood what seemed easily half a head taller than Emma, and her voice was short, sharp, and not to be argued with. “I have been conducting interviews in the study.”

Emma surreptitiously attempted to gather her skirts slightly as she moved to follow in the dim and unfamiliar space. The last thing she needed was to trip on her own hemline and go sprawling to the floor, disgracing herself and showing just how far she was from being trained to carry herself around fancy ballrooms and stately mansions. Though governesses themselves were of course employees like maids or cooks, they were part of rearing and training proper young men and women in the ways of society they would someday navigate. They should therefore carry themselves with the decorum they would be expected to convey to their charges. Emma had grown up much to rough and tumble for such frivolities, gathering most of what she knew of manners and bearing from her friends who worked in fine homes and had tried to help her prepare as best she could between jobs on the assembly lines and in the linen works. Though this odd prospective employer had allowed her entrance, Emma got the distinct impression she was seeking out a flaw to send her packing once more.

She offered a sidelong wink and smile to Alice who still followed them closely, like a silent shadow. Upon reaching a room wherein Emma could see a crackling fireplace, largely mahogany desk with two handsomely appointed chairs before it, her hostess turned abruptly to calmly order, “Alice, go to your room, please. Our business does not concern you at present, and no one likes a little snoop who lingers in doorways.”

An argument rose up Emma’s throat, wanting to scold the woman for being so cold and dismissive. If nothing else, she wished she could at least caught the little girl’s hand as she darted quickly from the room, the hurt devastatingly clear on her elfin face as she vanished without a word. Fighting her natural instincts, Emma did neither, knowing that if she wished a chance to truly help the girl, to console her for more than just a moment, she had to be hired by this imperious woman. There was no doubt now she was seeing herself and her own past pain played out in the youngster now; it was no longer simply about needing employment. But Alice was not the one doing the hiring, so Emma wordlessly dug her fingernails into her palms to remain silent and bided her time.

“Right. Now then,” the flame-haired lady of the house spoke crisply as she snapped the door closed, assuring they would remain alone and uninterrupted, and turned to search Emma’s expression. “You’ve come to apply as governess, have you? And what makes you think you should be considered?”

There was a smug, doubting look on her interviewer’s face that made Emma’s blood boil. Already well on her way to disliking the woman for her hurtful treatment of the child in her care, Emma was further incensed by the same snobbish, condescending attitude she encountered from so many in polite society whenever she sought more fulfilling employment. As if finer clothes and more cultured speech determined either the work ethic or character of a person. If anything, people like the haughty ghoul before her only made emma more certain that breeding and money often made people worse rather than better.

“That is correct, Ms. - ah - Mrs. Jones?” she tried, realizing as she floundered briefly that the other woman had not actually introduced herself or provided her preferred title. As Emma paused, swallowing and trying to still her rising temper, the lighted lamps and candles in the room flickered fitfully, as if some unseen butler tried to extinguish them all at once. Pressing on, Emma tried to ignore the oddity, and added, “I have quite a bit of experience looking after children of various ages, as well as affidavits of my characters from others who know me well.”

Emma handed her recommendations across the desk to the woman, even as she sniffed and snatched at them as if she barely wanted to touch or look at the offending items. “Very well, let’s check them over, shall we?” she snipped. 

Not know quite how she had gotten herself into the other woman’s bade grace so quickly, Emma held herself in check rather remarkably she thought, under the circumstances. At this point, it was only the memory of those sweet, hopeful little eyes looking up at her in greeting that kept her from taking her leave.

“And it isn’t Mrs. Jones, either,” the frosty voice corrected with a level of disgust that suggested Emma had called her some unforgivable epithet. “Alice is a Jones, yes, but though I have found myself guardian to the little waif, I am not her mother.”

“Oh,” Emma tried, very little else seeming possible to say, and her mind wanting to shout that she should be lucky enough to have a lovely child like that to call her own. “I didn't realize,” she finally settled on.

“Clearly,” the other sniffed again, chin held high. “My name is Eloise Gardiner. My family were some of the founders of this community; this home part of our legacy for generations. When the child’s shiftless father deserted her on my doorstep and disappeared, well I couldn’t very well leave her on the street, could I?”

Polite veneer completely forgotten, Emma’s mouth fairly hung open at the baldly hurtful way this Ms. Gardiner explained coming to have Alice in her home. Though Emma did not remember a storm or even strong wind outside the manor before she had entered, at Eloise’s harsh words, a howl of wind whipped up outside, rattling the window panes as if in response to the callous statements the woman made. Even without the unsettling sound effects, something rang false in the explanation, at least to Emma’s ears, and she had always trusted herself as a rather astute judge of such things - her life and livelihood often depended upon it. 

“Why would her father leave her here?” Emma finally asked, knowing it might not be proper, but at last unable to help herself. Ms. Gardiner seemed far from a maternal or loving choice the girl’s parent had been seeking a fitting guardian. “Did you know him?”

Eloise Gardiner leaned forward with a knowing smirk, conveying the sort of acquaintance it had been with an arched brow and curl of the lip that no true demure lady of class would suggest. “In a way I did, at one time,” she answered vaguely. “He was a handsome devil, charming too, but it had been some time since I’d seen him, when I gained Alice as my ward.” A stack of books which had been sitting on a shelf nearby suddenly toppled and crashed to the floor violently, though no one had moved to jostle them. One, inexplicably, went sailing through the air, nearly hitting the mansion’s proprietress squarely.

Emma flinched backward as the tome flew past, but Eloise barely blinked, catching the volume in a firm grip and giving Emma a stiff grimace of a smile. “He never was one who could be held down. Apparently even his own child did not prove to be enough to do so.”

Heart burning in her chest, Emma felt the line within her statement even more strongly than before, but she couldn’t be sure what part or how much of the story was untrue. What she did know was that she wanted to be Alice Jones’ governess more than ever.

Dropping the offending book to the floor at her feet, Eloise Gardiner made a show of glancing at Emma’s experience and references with little interest before seemingly making up her mind in an abrupt, unconcerned sort of way. “I suppose you’ll do,” she stated, standing quickly and handing the papers back to Emma impatiently. “You do at least have some prior knowledge and some sense, unlike the last couple of applicants I’ve seen. I have important matters to attend and cannot be doing with Alice underfoot any longer. You’ll start tomorrow if you accept. Room and board is included. You stay in the tower room, the attic really, but it’s furnished and private.”

Shocked by how quickly the mater seemed to have been decided, and feeling she really had no choice but to accept - for a variety of reasons - Emma agreed to the terms almost numbly, not ready to celebrate yet that she had food and a roof over her head secured once more. Suddenly, she was almost as troubled as she was relieved, and she could not shake the sensation, even as they shook hands, signed a contract for the first six months, and Ms. Gardiner showed her back to the door with a directive to return at eight the next morning. Back out on the cobbled walk, Emma turned to look back up at the structure where she would soon be living and working, biting her lower lip and wondering if she had done the right thing.

Then, from an upstairs window, she saw Alice Jones appear, waving at her briefly with a wide smile before flitting from view once more. Holding that image in mind, Emma Nolan comforted herself that she had made the best choice after all, and left resolved to wait and see what the morrow might bring.

~~~*~~~

That evening found Emma seated in a cramped but warm and welcoming corner of the kitchen in the home of the fine family where her friend Ashleigh Hermann had just been promoted to head cook. Hoping not to add any extra bother or difficulty to Ash’s workload, Emma had pulled a tall stool into the corner by the hearth and was keeping her hands busy breaking beans that would be prepared as a side dish for the evening meal her friend was preparing. Emma was glad to help in return for a couple of the cinnamon buns Ashleigh made from scratch, and to have a little company as she mulled over the strange interview she’d had that day and sought a spot of her friend’s advice on how she should proceed when reporting for her first day of work in the morning.

Ashleigh and Emma had met in school years ago, both often arriving in patched or threadbare clothing and dealing with being shunned by the more outgoing and well-to-do students. They had bonded early and the friendship had lasted well into their young adulthood, even now that Ashleigh was married to a handsome young lamplighter named Sean and first time mother to an adorable babe named Alexandra.

Though not a true orphan as Emma was, Ash’s family had treated her as more servant than cherished offspring, and so she had grown up self-sufficient and knowledgeable in all manner of work. Since she toiled more than hard enough to support herself by the time she was a teen, Ashleigh had struck out on her own early, and had been able to advise Emma in various types of employment from her own experience as soon as Emma followed her into the work force a few years later. 

Unlike Ashleigh’s selfish relations, Granny, the doting elderly woman who had been a friend and mentor of Emma’s deceased parents and taken her in to raise as her own, had been doting and attentive, giving Emma all the attention she could spare while working hard to run a quaint country inn. Granny had not possessed much in the way of money and material objects, nor had she much spare time to dally and relax but she had provided the best she could for the lonely child left in her charge and loved her like family. Emma adored Granny for it, but though she still functioned quite well, she was getting up in years, and Emma hated to see her still working so hard to support them both. It hadn’t been long after she was of age that she had set out for the city on her own, hoping to even send something back occasionally to help Granny and maybe allow the woman to finally slow down and have a moment’s rest.

Setting down the cocoa Ashleigh had offered with a knowing smile the moment she’d claimed a seat upon arrival, Emma watched her friend bustling around the kitchen, and finally sighed, coming out with the question still troubling her mind. “So, do you think I’m crazy for taking this on? I can’t imagine that woman will be at all pleasant to work for, and you know as well as I do the stories about that old mansion, but… if you could have seen this little girl… She is so bright, so curious and sweet. She must be stifling, locked in there all alone. I couldn’t turn my back on her…” She trailed off, her teeth digging into her lower lip anxiously as she awaited her oldest friend’s trusted opinion. The large bowl of beans were finished, and she rose to dump the vegetables from the container in her lap into the rapidly boiling pot on the stove, needing to move to calm her impatient nerves.

Despite the numerous other chores she had on her hands, Ashleigh came to stand at Emma’s side, offering her a wooden ladle to stir with, but also pausing her constant motion to wrap an arm around Emma’s shoulders and peer into her face. “Of course you couldn’t,” she acknowledged softly, her eyes full of gentle understanding. “With the way you grew up, without your parents, really pretty lost until I adopted you,” here she winked playfully to let Emma know she was teasing. “You saw a bit of yourself in her, which is completely understandable. You needed a job, the old crone will likely be away or otherwise occupied most of the time, and I think you and little Alice will be good for each other.”

“You really think so?” Emma debated, returning her eyes to the rolling surface of the water before her. She wasn’t even half the cook her friend was, and she hardly wanted to ruin one of the side dishes for the dinner. Still, despite her reluctance to let too much relief creep in, it did her heart good to know her friend felt just as she had about the situation. “That was my conclusion as well, but I feared I might be too close to see it clearly.”

Shaking her blonde head and nearly undoing the kerchief she held it back with for kitchen work, Ashleigh chuckled, “Would I lie to you, Emma?” Bustling off again to take the fresh baked buns from the large oven as gracefully as if it were a dance around her working quarters, she added, “And if you’re worrying about al the gossip and old wives’ tales about the place, I’m sure that’s all they are. I’ve never known you to let rumors and nonsense stop you before.”

Emma agreed aloud, but continued to leave unspoken the strange drop in temperature, the howling wind on a calm day, and the books flying as if cast through the air by an unseen, malevolent hand. Not as frightening as the lady of the house herself, but unsettling to be sure. Still, Emma did not like to be thought of as easily daunted, and when it came down to it, she would return regardless; that innocent child deserved someone who cared for her, and Emma had already become attached, whether she fully understood it or not.

She lingered a bit longer, helping Ashleigh see to the rest of the meal preparation and then catching up on her friend’s life as they cleaned up afterwards. When Ashleigh left for the evening to return to her little family, and Emma back to her boardinghouse room for one last night, she felt much more certain of her course. Maybe odd things did happen on an estate that old, and having now met Ms. Eloise Gardiner, Emma would concede she might indeed be a witch, though doubtfully the kind local legend suggested. The sillier flights of fancy she had heard over the years - that the ghosts of ancient sailors roamed the halls seeking revenge, or that once one entered the place they became trapped and couldn’t leave - were the work of overzealous imaginations and bored people starved for excitement, nothing more.

~~~*~~~

The next morning dawned pleasantly warm and bright with sunlight as Emma made her way to the estate at the top of the hill once more, reporting for her first day as Alice Jones’ governess. If she were completely honest, Emma was hardly looking forward to a second conversation with the lady of the house, but she had steeled herself as best she could, and she was able to overlook that in her anxiousness to see and talk once more to the little sprite who had charmed her from the moment she’d opened the door and looked up into Emma’s face with such trusting openness. Her focus was on making young Alice’s life better, on seeing that the child had someone on whom she could depend. Anything else was secondary, and she intended to keep that focus in mind, whatever other obstacles or distractions might present themselves.

Clutched in her hand, she carried a valise packed with her meager clothes and other belongings, and in the crook of her other arms her heavy winter coat which would not fit in the case and a snow white knitted baby blanket which she could never leave behind wherever she traveled. It was the one family heirloom she possessed. It had been made for her and given to her parents by Granny herself before Emma was even born, her named stitched in purple at the edge by the capable older woman. Emma was far from sentimental; her no-nonsense practical upbringing cementing that tendency well. She didn’t hand onto trinkets or collect many things. She had the bare minimum of a wardrobe and shoes necessary and a few pictures and pieces of jewelry, but she traveled light, and so she pressed the blanket, the one exception, to her side all the more tightly as she again reached the solid front door of the mansion where she would live and work.

Pressing her lips together tightly, Emma once more steadied herself, intending to appear capable and prepared for anything, then knocked on the sturdy portal. She waited only moments before hearing quickly, lightly scuffling footsteps within, and her heart leapt in happy relief, hoping it was Alice and not Eloise Gardiner, even as she didn’t wish for the child to be scolded again on her behalf.

The door swung open widely to reveal the youngster beaming at her brightly in greeting. “Miss Emma, you’re really here!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together with delight and giving a little hop right where she stood in the grand entryway. “I’ve been ever so anxious for you to arrive!”

Her enthusiasm was contagious, and Emma felt a smile of her own spreading across her face in response to Alice’s greeting. Considering that she was no longer a stranger and arriving for the job she had been hired to perform, Emma stepped forward into the house gladly and chuckled indulgently when Alice took her hand and excitedly pulled her further into the ornate, high-ceilinged hall. Their voices and footsteps echoed massively in the large, open space, but though still dimly lit and overly ostentatious, her surroundings seemed much less oppressive and foreboding than they had during her interview the day before.

All the same, before letting her guard down, Emma couldn’t help glancing about cautiously to make certain Ms. Gardiner was not lurking anywhere, watching unobserved for her to make some sort of disastrous slip that would see her thrown back out of the place on her ear. Seeing no one else anywhere nearby, Emma released a breath and let her shoulders ease slightly, not sure where her employer was, but at least reasonably assured the woman was not about to leap from some hidden corner and fire her on the spot. 

Cleverly seeming to read her new caretaker’s thoughts, Alice tugged gently on Emma’s hand, regaining her attention and giggling at her wariness. “You don’t have to worry,” she broke into Emma’s thoughts with her sweetly endearing young voice. “If you’re wondering about Ms. Eloise, she isn’t her right now. She left again early this morning.”

Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion. “She did?” she queried, puzzled. “Without making sure I’d arrived or giving any final instructions? Wouldn’t it have been better to wait and be certain you weren’t left alone?”

Alice tilted her head to study Emma for a moment, looking as though she were giving serious adult consideration to Emma’s questions, even if they weren’t truly directed at her or even more than musing out loud. Finally, she straightened again and wrapped Emma’s hand in both her smaller ones before clutching them to her chest. “You really did come here for me, didn’t you?” she seemed to reflect, sounding awed at the realization. “I could sense it, you know,” the girl continued, holding Emma’s gaze with her own wide eyes brimming with emotion. “That you were sincere, I mean. That you cared. I wanted so much to believe it, but I’ve been wrong before.”

Her confession felt troublingly cryptic to Emma, who was still trying to digest Alice’s words, even while being grateful the child could read her genuine hope to be friends, to help, to make her life better and keep her safe. Still… “Wait, what did you mean by that, Alice?” she pressed. “Of course I’m here for you. I mean, I need a job naturally - one has to work in order to get by - but I agreed to be your governess because I care about you. Shouldn’t that be the case?”

Alice nodded sagely at Emma’s words, those large, guileless eyes in her pale, innocent face wiser than they out to have had to be. “You’re right, Miss Emma. Naturally that would be the best way of it, but you would be shocked at how many people come here for the money alone, or hoping to gain Ms. Eloise’s favor and her standing and power to help themselves. Or even just to see if the place is haunted or cursed by a witch the rumors claim.”

As she was speaking, Alice had turned to move further into the house, pulling Emma along behind her through a gloomy formal parlor, an empty sitting room, and to what would likely classify as a sunroom squeezed in along the back wall near a flight of stairs up to the second floor. Emma followed numbly, realizing that Alice Jones was no fool, nor was she as blissfully childishly ignorant of what went on around her as Emma would have hoped. Clearly love - as all children deserved - had been all too rare in her life, just as it had been in Emma’s.

“I’m sorry that has been the case in the past,” Emma managed shakily, placing steadying hands on Alice’s shoulders as she turned to look up into Emma’s face after stopping once more. Finally they had found a space in the ancient structure where light could get through, and it came streaming through the bank of windows, illuminating Alice’s pixie features and highlighting her hair in a way that resembled a bright halo resting atop her head. “You didn’t deserve to be overlooked in such a way… and that won’t be the case this time. I can promise you that much.”

Once again, Emma had the brief impression that Alice was weighing the words she had spoken, gauging them for truth. It might not strike her so clearly if it weren’t something she also did, but nonetheless, she understood the need behind it, and forced herself to be still and submit to the inquisitive scrutiny. As quickly as the moment had begun, it ended, and Alice lunged forward, wrapping her think arms around Emma’s waist in a tight hug. “Then you’re just the one I’ve been praying for,” she exhaled in breathless exclamation against the material of Emma’s dress, holding tight for some minutes before letting go and stepping back, friendly exuberance lighting her eyes again, despite the glassy appearance of tears that hadn’t actually fallen. “Would you like to see your room?” Alice asked, passing the more fervent swell of emotion that had overtaken her and obviously now attempting to be a proper young hostess. “I can show it to you and help you put away your things.”

“That sounds perfect,” Emma replied with a matching grin.

Alice whirled quickly, now assured in her purpose and cheerfully urging her governess to follow her as she slipped from the room and back toward the stairs. Her tread was light on each as she tripped along merrily, prattling on about the tower, her own room, her favorite toys and games - anything her young mind seemed to think her newfound friend should know. 

When they reached the second floor landing, Alice looked back over her shoulder at Emma coming up behind her, an impish expression on her face and an eyebrow cocked up on her forehead playfully at the slightly more labored sound of Emma’s breathing after the steep climb with baggage in hand. “Alright there, Miss Emma?” she questioned solicitously, but with a teasing smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards.

Narrowing her eyes in false sternness at the jibing, Emma nodded and let the girl  know that she would manage, while admitting to herself that so many stairs might take some getting used to. “My room is just there,” Alice pointed to her left toward a room with the door opened just enough to show walls painted a light robin’s egg blue in contrast to the dark colors which seemed to dominate the rest of the house, and the velvety ear of a stuffed white rabbit hanging off the side of a canopy bed. “And Ms. Gardiner’s room is that way,” she gestured to the other end of the hall. “But don’t ever go in there. It’s off limits,” she advised solemnly with the voice of one who had been informed of the information in no uncertain terms. She wrinkled her nose in the next instant, her irrepressible nature taking over once again. “Not that you would wish to bother her moldy old room anyway.”

By this time, Emma had caught her breath and did laugh at the girl’s affronted expression. “Right you are,” she agreed with a wink, then a reassurance that she understood the warning, “but duly noted all the same.”

The winding steps up to the tower were much narrower as they ascended, not leading to an entire third floor this time, but a single room in what must be one of the gables Emma remembered seeing from the outside. Alice pushed the door open at the top with the air of a ringmaster unveiling the final act of his circus, turning eager eyes to see what her governess will make of her new lodgings. “Here it is,” she crowed, “the tower!”

Brushing an escaped tendril of hair back behind her ear, Emma gratefully dropped her valise to the floor and tossed her coat and blanket onto the worn quilt covering the bed just off to her right. The room is sparse: bed, dresser, closet, mirror, but thankfully clean and more than sufficient for her needs. There have been many times she has been in danger of having to do with much less. Moving over to the window in the wall facing the door, Emma looked out briefly, seeing the lawn running back down the hill alongside the path she had trod when she arrived that morning, thinking how lovely and peaceful the grounds truly were, despite the heavy chill that had seemed to surround them only yesterday.

Perhaps it was only the sullen mistress and not the old place itself at all?

“What do you think?” Alice’s voice piped up, sounding a bit more hesitant, perhaps even nervous as she awaited the verdict. “It isn’t fancy, but the tower has always seemed interesting to me. Up here, tucked away all by itself and quiet. I’ve always figured its hiding its own mysteries.”

She was rambling a bit, though it endeared her to Emma all the more as she turned back into the room and made her way back to the bed where Alice had plopped down and took a seat beside her. The poor thing seemed almost anxious that Emma might dislike her accomodations and leave. Reaching out to take the child’s hand and press it reassuringly in her own, Emma marveled again at the bits of her own psyche that she saw surfacing time and again in this sweet girl trusted to her care. Peering into Alice’s face, she whispered with conspiratorial warmth, “It doesn seem to have a story, doesn’t it?”

~~~*~~~

That night, long after Alice had been tucked into bed and Emma had retired to her own room, she ran her mind back over the day fondly. She and Alice had toured the rest of the house, made a brunch of toast, marmalade and tea, and then explored the wonderfully overgrown backyard, where Alice had shown her the climbing tree in which she sometimes to naps in the wide branches in the afternoon sun and the long untended garden where she often caught glimpses of a stray cat and her young, and even once a fox. Alice’s curious, intelligent mind shone through as she continued to share all the things she had studied and discovered ont he property while left largely to her own devices. It seemed almost miraculous that she was neither bitter nor spoiled, but pleasant and kind, eager to her treasures, as she called the simple things she had gathered in her solitude.

Vowing the the precocious young woman would no longer have to spend her days alone - not ever again if she could help it - Emma had found herself physically tired from the day’s activity, but her mind not yet ready for sleep. Noticing a slight draft in the room, Emma picked her blanket up from where she had tossed it on the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders as most would a dressing gown. Moving toward an alcove in the back corner of the room, she discovered where the cool air was streaming in; it seemed that where the two walls met was not quite snug, and as she pressed and prodded searchingly, she discovered that there was actually a hidden door in the wall that she hadn’t seen. She wondered that Alice had never done so either, and bit back a smile at how thrilled Alice would be when shown it tomorrow.

It was a bit stuck, no doubt from neglect, but putting her shoulder to the task, Emma finally forced open the wooden panel to discover that it led out onto a high widow’s walk overlooking the back of the property. Her sense of adventure momentarily overriding her good sense, Emma stepped out onto the narrow walkway into the night air, exhilaration flooding her veins. The breeze was stronger so high up, above the trees even in her secret perch, and Emma’s hair, loose and flowing for the night, whipped around her face wildly. 

There was railing along the structure clearly meant as a handhold for anyone venturing out to use it as a vantage point, but it wasn’t tall - not even waist high - and she made a mental note to be careful not to get to close to the edge, and to warn Alice of it too, if she even decided it wise to show the child at all. She was just debating the wisdom of such action along with her responsibility to keep Alice safe, when the strident wind seemed to take on renewed vigor; almost a life of its own. The shingles of the roof at her back rattled as if about to be pulled free and the door out to the walk knocked against the side of the tower.  Unnerved by the almost sentient reaction of its force, Emma got the distinct impression it was somehow upset with her.

An impossibly strong gust snatched suddenly at the blanket draped loosely over her shoulders, nearly ripping it away from her and carried it off. Without thinking, Emma dove forward to keep hold of the blanket, her one tie to the parents she had never gotten to know and couldn’t even remember, and lost her footing. She slammed into the guard rail rather than slipping over the edge, but it caught at mid thigh not the waist, and she nearly toppled over it headfirst. 

A strong grip caught her around the waist and yanked her back from a fall that would have surely been the end of her. For a moment Emma was frozen, stunned, her blanket clutched to her chest as her startled lungs struggled to breath again after the shock. It took a few minutes for her to regain her senses and realize that she hadn’t averted disaster on her own; someone had caught her.

Turning slowly, she came face to face with a man equally wide-eyed and panting, looking just as surprised to see her standing there as she was to see him. He was a half a head taller than her, his eyes a wild, stormy blue like the sea and his disheveled dark hair fluttering across his forehead in the breeze still sweeping around them. His shirt was scandalously half-buttoned down his heaving chest under an expensive and old-fashioned looking waistcoat, allowing think dark hair to tantalizingly show in a way Emma had never seen on the high collared and cravat wearing gentleman of her previous acquaintance. 

Before she could force any words out however, his voice, shaking with some intense burst of feeling broke out in clear agitation. “What were you thinking, Lass? Are you mad? You nearly threw yourself over the edge for a mass of thread and ribbon!”

Spluttering indignantly, Emma wanted to set him straight and defend herself, but she was still too overcome by the fright she’d weathered and the sudden precious of an overwhelming intense and masculine stranger pressed quite close to her in such a small space. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly without her forcing out any sort of explanation. 

As he raised his hand to brusquely shove a thick forelock of hair out of his eyes, Emma gaped even more at the sight. Where his left hand would have been, the man who had just pulled her from the ledge instead had a hook in its place. She blinked mutely, even trying to rub her eyes as if the fog would lift and what she saw would turn sensible once again. Instead, it only led her to realize that something about the man’s form was not fully solid; she could still see the door back into her room, the shingles on the roof, and the stars above through him. It shouldn’t be possible. It wasn’t possible…

Reaching out a tentative finger, she intended to just barely touch her rescuer, to prove to her own eyes that she must be mistaken, but instead she gasped as her hand passed right through him to the wall beyond. Her gaze snapped back up to meet his; deep, fathomless pools lined strikingly with dark kohl but someone just as fearful in that moment as she knew hers must be. 

“Bloody hell,” he swore, looking almost pained, “will I never learn?” And then, before Emma could stop him, he vanished from sight.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @winterbaby89 @thejollyroger-writer @wefoundloveunderthelight @xsajx @cosette141 @apiratewhopines @the-darkdragonfly @darkcolinodonorgasm @justanother-unluckysoul @drowned-dreamer @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda​ @scientificapricot​ 

[globaloscillations]

Made it.

Right so TLDR made it to Northern England and met up with Kristen. That's the short story. The long story is it was a journey. One that started at at noon on Saturday with dropping Luna off at the kennel we frequently use and ended at around 4pm Boston time the next day by the time we were in bed UK time.

The flight experience started with the plane being an hour late in Boston. We learned only after we were second in line for take off that the issue was actually that they couldn't get the tow bar working to tow the plane out of storage to the gate. 🤦‍♀️ Once we were on the flight it was basically a bingo card of less than optimal experience…baby the screamed the whole flight? Check. Turbulence the whole flight? Check. Thankfully it wasn't stomach drops out turbulence but it was pretty consistent good shaking around and lateral turbulence. I haven't done a 6 hour flight in quite a while and while I did close my eyes some I was feeling it by the end.

Amazingly Heathrow and customs were a breeze it's totally automated now you scan your Passport and go if you have a 🇺🇸 Passport at least there was no line pretty wild compared to past experiences. I picked up my checked bag without issue and it was on to Heathrow Express and Paddington station.

After grabbing a quick whatever the heck meal it was I headed over to Euston Station by way of the Hammersmith Tube line. Nerdy me was extremely excited to find that I tapped my phone with Google Pay and it just worked. In fact I'm in love with the religious devotion to contactless over here it's really how things should work and whole strides have been made at home there are still places where you have to swipe and I'm less and less inclined to give them my patronage.

Right anyway back to trains. I knew it was going to be chaotic because Kristen had relayed her experiences from earlier in the week. Originally I had planned to chill in London for a bit and then take a train up to Carlisle later in the day but I found I was just too tired from the flight and really just wanted to get where I was going. So I took advantage of the flexible ticketing and hopped the next train headed north. The train was packed and all of my experiences of trains in Europe came flooding back fighting for a seat, no where to put large luggage, etc. Really the trains aren't made for bags of more than carry-on size but you gotta do what you gotta do. I was standing in one of the vestibules stressing out a bit when a conductor took pitty on me and directed me to a reserved seat someone didn't show up for. I wedged my bag behind the seat as I had learned to do on that Europe trip and we were off. Honestly big shout out to that conductor who was probably crazy stressed for taking the time because as it turns out the seat I ended up in was reserved all the way to my destination. 🙌 Now of course it's all over the news that the rail system nere has been hard and this particular train actually had two less coaches than it was supposed to! I'm still not 100% sure about the whole hop on any train thing. It seems like the could scan tickets and at the gates and at least know that more people than seats have gotten in. I'm sure it is just cultural bias and I'm willing to admit that but I did come away from the experience grateful for Amtrak's approach of true reserved seating.

About four hours later I arrived in the northern city of Carlisle. It is always funny to me to look at maps here and see all the familiar town names. I'm pretty sure when it came to naming towns in New England they put a map of England up on a tavern wall, had a few pints and started throwing darts. I wandered into a "spoons" (a Whethersoons) pub and the United game was on so I grabbed and Ale and sat in to watch the last half of the game. It was kinda cool and unexpected to watch the first game of the season actually here in England the audio was up and there was a lively crowd. 

Not long after the game was over Kristen and and got me we and dinner and headed back to the Airbnb. Shout-out to her driving because for one it is stock over here and for another it is extremely trippy. I am honestly not sure that I could do it even if we had an automatic. It messes with my head a lot. She assures me that despite that once you are behind the wheel it is actually pretty natural. The Airbnb is quite nice. It's an old Estate which has been completely renovated and divided up into a handful of units. Quite comfortable and cozy. All the things one would expect of these parts I'd guess. 

That leaves me sitting here on the couch needing to get ready and see what today holds. I hope Luna and the house are doing ok and I'm probably still a bit tired but I think (hope) the anxiety of the build up has started to fade. *Exhale* whew travel in these times though, be prepared and don't go into it thinking it will be what you remember. That isn't necessarily bad, just one must be mindful.

[conflagrate]

Summer 2014 Anime Season

Oh hey I have totally lost my bid to finish 2 weeks’ backlog of anime in the 2 days before the new season kicks off!

Still to go: the best for last —-> Soreseka & Nogenora, bits of Brynhildr, Escha & Logy

Regardless, I am already looking toward the summer shows and for once, I actually bothered to check out some synopses to make sure I don’t accidentally watch Shinbo or BL shows.

Let me predict what I’ll be watching over the next few months.

What I think I’ll like: Yami Shibai 2, Glasslip, Zankyo no Terror, Hanayamata, Barakamon, Yama no Susume 2

What I’ll be watching even if I don’t end up liking it: Tokyo Ghoul, SAO II, Sin Strange Plus, Akame ga Kill!, Francesca, Himegoto

What I’m totally on the fence about: Rail Wars, Aldnoah Zero, Jinsei, Tokyo ESP

What I’ll try to watch but probably end up dropping: Ao Haru Ride, Sabagebu, Gekkan Shojo Nozaki-kun, Bakumatsu Rock, Sailor Moon Crystal, Locodol, Nobunaga Concerto

What I’m 100% sure I won’t be touching with a barge pole: all the sequels to shows I didn’t like (hi Basara, Persona etc), Love Stage, Momo Kyun Sword, Rokujoma no Shinryakusha, Seirei Tsukai no Blade Dance, Majimoji Rurumo, Shirogane no Ishi, Minarai Diva, DRAMAtical Murder, Shonen Hollywood, Maido Urayasu Tekkin Kazoku, Pripara

oh and hey Haikyuu!! and Daiya no Ace are still running welp

Now, watch as I fail miserably in judging my own tastes in anime!

[babybluebex]

laszlo kreizler nsfw alphabet

so yeah this... Happened. the zemo version is coming soon, stay tuned! (probably tomorrow morning bc a bitch is tired lmao)

(gif credit to @lindir)

A = Aftercare.

Laszlo is such an aftercare king. He’s checking on you in every way he can think of: asking you if you feel alright, maybe massaging your hips if he had you in a weird position, offering you dinner or wine, maybe even a hot bath, if you’d like (and the bath would have special perfumed oils he had sent from Paris because Laszlo is SUCH a self care whore, he’s got soaps and perfumes out the wazoo).

B = Body Part.

His favorite part of yours are your breasts. No questions, hands down. He likes using your breasts as a pillow at night— just settling himself between your legs and resting his head on your tits is a dream he indulges in frequently. He also really loves seeing you in the new French-style of dresses that have a lower neckline, and, if you wear one of those dresses to dinner without telling him beforehand, he’s as good as gone. He’s staring the whole time and can only manage simple sentences.

C = Cum.

I think Laszlo likes to cum inside you, but he also wouldn’t mind cumming on your tits. If you’re on your knees, sucking him off, he’ll pull himself out of your mouth and almost rip your blouse in his haste to set your tits free before his orgasm rips through him. He only chooses to cum inside you if he can’t cum on your tits (for example, if you’re having slow, kissy sex and he can’t bear to leave your wet heat).

D = Dirty Secret.

Laszlo. Loves. To. Be. Degraded. From a psychological standpoint, he understands that his desire to be brought down and ridiculed is born from some sort of childhood trauma that DEFINITELY involves his father, but he just can’t help himself from getting so ridiculously turned on when you call him a dog for humping your leg while you try to sleep. Bonus points if you use his title while you do it: “Just like a little bitch in heat, aren’t you, Doctor Kreizler? You’re so aroused, you can hardly handle yourself. Are you too dumb to touch your own cock? Do you need me to do it? Oh, Doctor, what a dumb little thing you are.”

E = Experience.

Even Daniel himself has said that Laszlo has like NO experience. Laszlo got ZERO bitches (which I find hard to believe but ok whatever you say, writers of The Alienist), so, the first time y’all have sex, he’s more likely than not losing his virginity (let’s not get into the debate of “virginity is a social construct” because a.) IT IS and b.) Laszlo would lecture for hours about this). HOWEVER, these things come naturally to him. He is just Good In Bed. He figures it out very quickly, so, while you make fun of him for going a little stupid when he’s aroused, he makes up for it by bruising your cervix and apologizing later.

F = Favourite Positions.

Laszlo loves that soft, slow, kissy sex, so he’s into whatever position makes it possible for him to be inside you and to kiss you at the same time. Missionary is a go to, but sometimes he’ll have you sit on his desk and kiss your neck as he hikes your skirts up and fucks you all slow and nice.

G = Goofy.

Hardly ever? Laszlo is pretty serious most of the time, and the only time we ever see him Not Serious in the show is when he’s wasted after John’s bachelor party in season 2. So, maybe y’all went to dinner at Delmonico’s, then a ball for members of high society, and he had a little too much champagne and schnapps. He’s not like giggling and all, but his cheeks are red and he’s smiling more than usual, and calling you sweet names “Oh, mein Kätzchen” and “Meine kleine Prinzessin”. That’s Laszlo’s version of goofy.

H = Hair.

OK, my train of thought here is: LOOK AT THIS MAN’S BEARD. HIS BEARD IS NICE AS SHIT. If he treats his facial hair that good— regular trims, the beard oils we all know he uses, even if it isn't strictly canon— then his downstairs hair is nice too. Definitely soft, if maybe a little wiry sometimes (but tbh whose isn’t), and it’s a nice little cropping at the base of his cock. He also has a thin happy trail up his soft tummy, and a good amount on his chest (as we see in the show lol that much is canon).

I = Intimacy.

Laszlo is ALL ABOUT intimacy. You’ll know he’s in a ~mood~ because you’ll ask what’s being served at Delmonico’s that night, and Laszlo is like “I thought we might stay in tonight. John gave me his grandmother’s recipe for chicken soup”. He’ll light candles and pour you wine and play nice music on his gramophone, and he’ll romance you throughout dinner with little hand touches and sly smiles, until he’s kneeling in front of you and slowly kissing up your leg.

J = Jack-Off.

Honestly, he hardly does it. Of course, I’m sure he did it A LOT before he met you, but now he doesn’t need to pleasure himself anymore. He’s got you to do that. The only exception is if he has to travel for work and you can’t go with him. Even then, he’ll hold off until he absolutely can’t stand it, and then he’ll like read a letter you sent him or look at a sketch that John did of you while he whacks off; sometimes, he’ll just hold your letter to his face, and the faint trace of your perfume is enough to do the job.

K = Kink.

He likes impact play a lot (and perhaps a little roleplay wrapped up in it). On the rare occasion that his fucking is anything but soft and lovely, he’s gonna be hitting your ass and the backs of your thighs as you cling to him while he rails you stupid. Laszlo would try to hit your cheek, but he feels too bad when you wince at the pain of it. Spanking your tits is good to him too. His favorite though (and here’s where the roleplay comes in), is caning your ass. He’ll bend you over the desk in his home office and pull your skirts up past your hips, and he’ll make you count the amount of times his thick wooden cane connects with your soft asscheeks. The roleplay is, more often than not, you were his assistant who did something wrong and needed to be punished. If you miss one or forget to thank him accordingly “Thank you, sir”, he’ll focus the next hit on your thighs.

L = Location.

Either the bed or his desk. Laszlo is a little older (I don’t think we ever get an explicit age? But if we say he’s the same age as Daniel, then he’s 40 to 42-ish) so he can’t do it against a wall or anywhere too crazy (not to mention his right arm can hardly support much weight, so if he needs to hold you up, it’s probably not gonna happen). The bed is a special time for you two because of his arm; he’ll hold himself up with his left arm and rest his hand on your hip or wherever to give himself at least a little leverage. But the desk is usually easier because you can sit, or you can bend over and he can grab your hip.

M = Motivation.

He loves you and wants to worship you. It’s truly as simple as that. He loves you and thinks that you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, and he wants to show his reverence for you by making love to you.

N = No.

He can’t get into the role of “daddy”, nor can he call you “mommy”. Childhood trauma aside, he will be goddamned if Sigmund fucking Freud is correct about his bullshit Oedipus complex or whatever, so he just eliminates that whole thing entirely.

O = Oral.

He’s very good at it. He’s just… His lips are soft and his beard is good, and he’s not afraid to get a little messy with it. He’ll eat you out until he absolutely has to come up for air, and he’ll have a little bit of your wetness clinging to his mustache, but then he’s right back in it. His medical degree is also put to good use here because he remembers his female anatomy and he’s locked onto your clit the entire time. The first time you ever squirted, it was because Laszlo was nipping at your clit and sucking your wet little hole and pressing his thick fingers into you, and it was A Lot To Process, but you squirted and Laszlo came in his pants instantly because he’s like “I didn’t think women could actually do that… I thought that was a thing that penny novels made up”

P = Pace.

Again, he’s a little older, so he doesn’t fuck like some wild boy. He takes his time with you, touching you and caressing you and kissing you, and his pace is the same way. He’s slow and gentle, but has the capacity to go faster and harder if you ask for it.

Q = Quickie.

Hates them. Never. Never ever ever. If he can’t properly romance you and take his time with you, then what’s the point??

R = Risk.

Surprisingly, Laszlo is a little schemer, and he loves running a risk. He’s already looked down upon by other society members, so what’s the harm in squeezing your ass at a party? PERHAPS it’s inappropriate to get caught in a dark corner with your hand down his trousers and him kissing your neck, but it’s easy to blame it on the alcohol.

S = Stamina.

Once more, he is firmly middle aged, so he can do one round— maybe two, if he’s feeling particularly frisky. Usually, though, one is more than enough for both of you.

T = Toy.

HAVE YALL SEEN SEX TOYS FROM THE 1890S?? SHITS ARE SCARY. Laszlo does not like toys, but he understands their need for existing, so he may not like them but he tolerates them. That being said, he likes to watch you use them. LIke, he’ll sit in a chair by the bed and request you “put on a good show”, and he’ll watch you fall apart, and he’ll only come and touch you if you beg and plead for him to.

U = Unfair.

Mhm, so, in Laszlo’s mind, sex and pleasure are not just a give and take, it’s a two way street. They can (and often need to) coexist. He doesn’t like to initiate something if you won’t be able to reciprocate, so he’s not too into teasing or things. At the aforementioned parties, he’ll only goose your ass if he knows you’re 100% down for it.

V = Volume.

He’s fairly quiet. His mouth is usually really close to your ear, and you’re the only one who gets to hear his pretty little noises. The loudest he’ll be is when he’s come home after traveling and it’s felt like ages since he’s made love to you, he’s gonna come inside you, and his little gasp and moan are louder than usual.

W = Wild Card.

He is down to be tied up. He doesn’t like to tie you up, but if he’s the one being restrained, he’s all over it. It’s nothing too intense, just using a ribbon for your hair to tie his left hand to the headboard, not super tight but enough to make his fingers a little tingly, but he loves it. He loves the switch of the dynamic, how he’s fully at your mercy and you can use him however you please; usually, you just suck him off and ride him, but the endless possibilities get him hard as soon as you pull out the ribbon.

X = X-Ray.

Laszlo has Big Dick Energy, so he has to have a big dick. The best example of this sort of energy is in the very first episode after he goes and interviews Wolf, and comes to speak to Teddy, and Teddy is like “you interviewed the suspect? On whose authority??” and laszlo is like “Mine” like OH HIS DICK IS BIG I KNOW IT. He’s got an above average length and girth, but we know our man likes to eat, so some of his weight goes to his dick, so it’s like,,, He’s got a fat cock, sorry, I don’t make the rules

Y = Yearning.

Constantly. Neverending. He’s at work and he’ll catch a glimpse of a pastel drawing that you commissioned from John for Laszlo’s birthday that sits in a frame on his desk, and his heart starts to hurt from missing you. When he comes home, he’ll embrace you and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years, and he’ll want to hear all about your day. You have your doctor so whipped for you, and it’s a different kind of whipped than being pussy whipped. He’s, like, feelings whipped.

Z = ZZZ.

He’s a sleepy little baby after you guys finish. His eyes will be a little heavy and sticky as he’s cleaning up and caring for you (and you definitely coo at him “Oh, Las, you’re so sleepy!”) but when you’re both back in bed, our little man is circling his arm around your waist and nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. He’s so soft and affectionate, and he’s out like a light when you kiss his forehead and tell him you love him.

[storiesforallfandoms]

talent that runs in the family ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2128

request?: yes!

“Being rooks sister and substitute him while he recovers and slowly start to fall in love with colson”

description: she steps in to replace her brother when he is seriously injured and ends up gaining feelings for his friend

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Thanks so much for doing this (Y/N),” Rook said over the phone. “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I said. “But does Colson know that I’m...y’know...not a seasoned vet?”

“You’ll do fine.”

I refrained from reminding him that he didn’t actually answer my question.

After Rook’s accident left him out of commission for some time, he came to me to ask if I’d fill in for him. I jumped at the opportunity. Rook had taught me how to drum when I was young and, much like my big brother, it became a passion of mine. How could I turn down working with one of the biggest artists of the year, even if it were just for a short while?

Well, my nerves were definitely telling me I should’ve said no as I walked into soundcheck that day.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’ll call you after the soundcheck.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous. You’re gonna do great.”

I said my goodbyes and hung up. I tried not to focus on how big the venue we were playing in was as I made my way to the otherwise empty stage. I thought I was the first person to arrive until I heard someone calling my name.

“(Y/N), up here!”

I looked up to see the guys sat in a booth in the balcony. Colson was all but leaning over the railing, waving for me to join them. I had no idea how to get up there on my own, but luckily a security guard showed me the way.

The guys were eating pizza and drinking from plastic cups as if they were the ones attending the concert and not performing in it.

“Pre-show ritual,” Colson told me. “Especially when we have someone new joining the band. Sit! Have a slice!”

“Shouldn’t we be practicing?” I asked, but still sat with them. I didn’t want to completely mess up my first day.

“We have hours to practice,” one of the other guys I remembered as Slim said. “And we don’t really need to. We do this every night. A soundcheck is basically just to make sure everything is working tech wise.”

I just nodded, not wanting to point out that I hadn’t been doing this every night. I hoped that I’d have some time to figure out the songs before the shows.

Colson nudged me, bringing my attention to him. “Don’t stress. You’ll do great.”

I smiled at him, wishing I’d believe him.

After our small feast of pizza and beer in plastic glasses, we finally got to our soundcheck. I was so nervous that I kept messing up during the first song. My hands were shaking and I kept hitting the wrong drum by accident. My face was burning with embarrassment as I buried it in my hands and groaned.

Colson walked up to me, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I can get this, I know I can.”

“I know you can, too,” he said. “Just take a breath, relax. We’ll try again when you’re ready. And remember, it’s just drumming. Rook says you’re great at it.”

I smiled at him and nodded. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I pictured myself back in my bedroom from my childhood, playing my drums super loud until my parents had to call out for me to keep it down.

When we started practicing again, it went off without a hitch. We did most of the setlist all the way through and did quick takes on the last few songs before our time was up.

I was proud of myself as the soundcheck came to an end. I was still nervous about performing during the actual show, but I felt confident enough in myself not to make too many noticeable mistakes when we actually had an audience that night.

I was walking to my car when I heard someone calling for me. I turned to see Colson running to catch up with me. Or rather he was taking long strides to catch up with me considering he was so tall.

“I told you you would do great!” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “It’s like drumming runs in your blood or something.”

I chuckled. “That’s what mom and dad always said too, but neither one of them can keep a beat to save their lives and no one else in our immediate family plays either.”

“You and Rook are the start of a long line of drummers then I guess.”

I shrugged in response. We both stood awkwardly for a moment. I wasn’t sure what else to say. His arm was still around my shoulder and I didn’t want to pull away and make it seem like I didn’t enjoy the contact because I definitely was not complaining about it.

I guess Colson also realized that he was still touching me, though, because he pulled his arm away and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you need a run to the hotel or anything?” he asked. “We have the tour bus.”

I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks. I have my car, and besides I haven’t even checked into the hotel yet so I should probably go do that.”

“Oh, yeah you definitely should. Get some rest before the show, too. It’s a lot more physically demanding when it’s an actual show, even if you’re just sitting at a drum set the entire time. I’ll see you tonight then I guess.” He turned to walk away, but paused and turned back to add, “What were you planning on wearing tonight?”

I looked at him, confused. “Uh...this I guess.”

I was wearing a hoodie and a pair baggy jeans and my most comfortable pair of sneakers.

Colson raised an eyebrow at my outfit before looking back up at me. “I mean, it’s definitely comfy, but I would recommend something a little less...well, just less. It’s going to be hot as fuck on that stage, especially with all the lights on you and shit.”

I nodded, taking note of this as I got into my car and internally panicked a little because I didn’t know if I even had anything to wear.

~~~~~~

A few hours later, after checking into my hotel room and promptly wrecking it by throwing my clothes everywhere, I was heading back down to the lobby to meet up with the guys. We were going to the show together, which would’ve been my first tour bus ride. I couldn’t lie, I was super stoked for it.

I was the last one to the lobby. All the guys were stood around, loudly talking to one another. You’d think they were just a normal group of guys and not a group about to play a sold out show in a massive arena.

Colson spotted me first. I smiled at waved at him. His eyes widened and his jaw basically dropped, which prompted all the guys to turn. Their reactions immediately matched his as they looked me up and down.

“Rook would kill you guys if he could see you right now,” I teased.

“Damn (Y/N),” Colson dared to say first. “You look...you look hot as fuck.”

I had decided on a loose muscle shirt with a bralette underneath since the shirt showed a little more than what I was used to, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, and kept on the comfortable sneakers I had been wearing earlier that day.

I giggled. “Thanks, but again, Rook would kill you for saying that. Also, it’s not anything super attractive.”

“You got a nice body,” Baze pointed out. “Anything showing it off even a little is hot.”

I could feel my face burning as I waved their comments away. “Okay, enough with this. We have a show to get to.”

We boarded the tour bus and started towards the arena. The guys were distracted amongst one another again, completely forgetting about me and my “hot outfit”. Besides Colson, who had come to sit next to me on the couch while the rest of the guys were already drinking whatever was in the mini fridge.

“Do you guys always get drunk before your shows?” I asked.

��Not always. Usually we get high,” Colson responded.

“Now that I can get behind. I’ll probably be less afraid if I’m high.”

Colson held out the joint in his hand to me. I took it and took a quick puff, the smoke immediately burning my throat and lungs as I tried to inhale it. Colson laughed as I started to cough.

“I still say you have nothing to worry about,” he told me. “You’re gonna do great tonight. You can’t even really see or hear the audience with all the lights and the inner ear pieces.”

“That’s even worse cause then I’ll just imagine how big the audience is.”

He put a hand on my leg, something I assume was just instinct for him to do to comfort someone, but the minute he made the contact I felt a jolt of electricity run through me. Colson quickly pulled his hand away and I wondered if he had felt that too.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking,” he said.

“You can if you want,” I assured him. “I wasn’t mad about it or anything.”

Colson looked at me and I realized how blue his eyes were. Rook had always made jokes about how Colson could seduce any woman with just his eyes because they were such baby blues, but I didn’t really believe him until the moment I was looking in them myself. Now I was lost, completely forgetting everyone around me as I felt myself moving closer towards him.

The bus jerked to a stop, causing Colson and I to nearly be thrown from our seats. The guys started off the bus first, running towards the entrance to the arena as I could hear the waiting fans screaming outside.

Colson stood and offered a hand to me. “It’s showtime.”

~~~~~~

After the first song went perfectly, I stopped feeling nervous. Colson was right, I couldn’t see the audience in front of me, but I could faintly hear their screams of excitement over my inner ear piece. It was weird to have it in and not only hear all of us playing, but also the crew talking backstage. It was almost distracting, but it became easy to tune them out.

During one of Colson’s talking points in the show, I reached for my water bottle to take a sip. Colson was hyping the audience up, which made me smile a little.

“Before we continue the show,” he said into his mic, “you guys may have noticed that we do not have our regular drummer tonight.”

I immediately knew what he was about to do and I wanted to hurtle my drumstick at him before he went there.

“As you’ve probably heard, Rook was in a bit of an accident and is off recovering for the time being,” he continued. “So, we decided to get some family to fill in for him for the time being. Everyone, I want to hear y’all make some noise for Rook’s little sister, (Y/N)!”

The crowd cheered loudly. Colson turned to me and waved for me to stand. I glared at him, which I hoped he could see, before standing and awkwardly smiling and waving at the audience.

“All the cool drum shit you guys have been hearing all night has been (Y/N),” Colson said as he started to approach me. “She’s a bad ass fucking drummer, and she’s a pretty fucking cool chick, too.”

I was confused where he was going with this as he came to stand next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulder the way he had earlier that day after soundcheck.

“Which is why, (Y/N), I gotta ask: will you go on a date with me sometime?”

Slight embarrassment was swelling somewhere inside of me at being asked out in such a public way, but that embarrassment was overshadowed by the fuzzy feeling of excitement inside of me. I looked up at Colson, my eyes wide and a smile on my lips.

 He lowered the mic so he could privately add, “I’m being serious. I wanna take you out on a real date. Just the two of us.”

My words were stuck in my throat, but I was able to nod in response. The smile on Colson’s face stretched so wide that I could’ve been convinced he was the one lighting the show.

“Okay,” he said, then lifted the mic to say to his audience, “Let’s get back to the show guys!”

[indianamoonshine]

Girl Talk | Din Djarin x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: What does a gal do when she’s just been railed by the most notorious bounty hunter in The Galaxy? Call her best friend of course.

A/N: Just something to tide you over until the next installment of Strawberry! I have anxiety and I need to busy my hands without thinking too much! This takes place after season 2!

There’s a crackling on the other end of the receiver. The telegraph service majorly bites out here on Besiana, which has been dubbed “the trench of The Galaxy”. Getting connected to Gabriele at all is a miracle in itself, though not without exploiting a few (somewhat) illegal hacks by yours truly.

Hells, not even this shitty phoning service can put you in a sour mood.

When Gabriele’s voice sounds at the other end, it gives the air that he’s just awoken from a heavy sleep or he’s suffering a hangover. Probably both. “Now what the hell are you doing all the way out in butt-fucking-nowh…” he starts.

You’re quick to cut him off. “Take a guess.”

Gabriele groans and there’s a rummaging in the background. Something sounds as though it falls off a surface - his alarm clock, probably. He must be in the inner rim somewhere.

“Miss girl, I don’t have time to play these games with you. My head is pounding. Now tell me why you’re in the catacombs of The Galaxy’s ass and…”

Behind you, a body shuffles from outside the refresher door. Your heart thuds rambunctiously in your chest as you carefully peer through a crack of the opening. Din Djarin - The Galaxy’s most notorious Mandalorian- is taking a seat with his rifle in hand. You watch as he begins to disassemble it with great technical precision. Something about watching him take apart his weapon causes your stomach to flutter.

And your knees to weaken.

“I just had sex,” you tell him in a whisper.

Gabriele is silent on the other end for a moment and then lets out a sigh of great disappointment. “Congratulations. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

“The best sex of my life.”

There’s another pause. “Oh?” His interest has piqued, voice more alert at the prospect of juicy gossip. After all, what were best friends for?

You let this linger in the air for a minute, just to marinate his curiosity, and then peek at Din again. He’s taking a rag and wiping the barrel of the rifle; if it weren’t for the helmet upon his head, you’d swear he was concentrating with furrowed and ascetic brow.

“Do you remember that Mandalorian who made a giant fuss a couple of years ago?” you inquire lowly, eyes unable to leave the steadiness of Din’s deft hands.

Those hands. You have to stop yourself from moaning at the recent memories. You swear you can still feel the ghostly sear they left in their wake. The naked skin upon your hips tingles at the sheer recollection, the slick still upon your thighs all-too prevalent.

“You’re lying,” is what Gabriele gasps, absolutely scandalized. You imagine him shooting up in bed and covering his mouth in awe. He was always so dramatic but you couldn’t blame him if he did. This was the exact reaction you were hoping for.

Din grabs another piece of his rifle and starts up again. You have to tear yourself away from looking at him and instead surmise yourself in the mirror. It isn’t very big in any sense of the word but it’ll do. You take a look at your face (blushed and bright) and then your eyes (dazed and dick-drunk). Hells, this man has ruined you.

“I know you have questions,” you reply, tapping at your cheeks. They feel softer somehow.

Gabriele squeaks a bit under his breath. “Did he take off his helmet?”

You shake your head, though he can’t see it. “No. And I think it awoken something in me.”

He tsks. “Damn. I wanna know what he looks like. Okay…”

“I know he’s a brunette,” you say slyly.

Gabriele shrieks at the other end and you have to angle the receiver away with a laugh. “Is it big?”

You recall the tactical consideration- albeit brief - it took to get his dick in your mouth. You did it though, ‘ole girl. You tap yourself on the shoulder with a proud grin.

“Oh, it is. It’s…it’s very nice.”

You find yourself looking out the door again. Din’s moved onto another gun - he’s already put together the last. You grow weary at the sight of his gloved hands alone, but when your eyes trail downwards you find yourself swallowing something thick in your throat. Which in turn, of course, reminds you of the tanginess still lingering upon your tongue.

“Gabriele,” you say seriously, voice so low you can barely hear yourself. “I came eight times.”

“Shut up. You did not.” Gabriele sounds more than just excited - now he sounds jealous. You can’t help but giggle.

You raise a hand to your chest in a show of honesty. “I mean it. Eight times. He went down on me for an hour.”

“I thought you said he didn’t take off his helmet?” Gabriele asks suspiciously.

You chuckle lowly. “Oh, that’s where it gets really good.”

Gabriele - one of the biggest sluts in The goddamned Galaxy - was no stranger to sex. So when you tell him that you were blindfolded during this portion of an absolute wild ride, you’re shocked to find him screeching once more.

You’re about to continue - to confide in him about the brutal rhythm of the ordeal - until a knock startles you. You press the receiver against your chest, still flushed and naked from the previous romp.

Din calls your name from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

You freeze, contemplating on everything you could say to this most bland of questions. “I’ll be out in a moment!” you decide, scolding yourself for being so timid. You were at the end of his dick a half-hour ago.

Din mumbles something and then departs. After he’s within a safe distance, you quickly raise the receiver and say, “I have to go. But I’ll tell you everything later.”

Gabriele gawks, “Was that him?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes. Now I really have to go.”

“Oh my gods, okay. Fine.”

You smile, clutching at the durasteel of the phone. “Promise. Love you.”

Your best friend sighs theatrically. “Love you too. Be safe, okay? I don’t even know who I’d call to go after him if something happened to you. No one would be stupid enough.”

The idea of Din doing anything to put you in harm’s way is inconceivable. You’ve only known him for a short amount of time - a couple of weeks at most - but you already trust him with your life.

“I’d die a happy woman,” you joke.

A short while later, you exit the refresher with sopping, clean hair and any traces of sex scrubbed away from between your legs. Din’s allowed you to wear one of his night shirts (an honor in itself) because your clothes had been soiled.

Din is placing his rifle upon its rack when you sneak by for the kitchen. You pour yourself a cup of Java - black, unfortunately, because of Din’s lack of sweet tooth. The liquid is steaming hot so you blow on it before bringing it to your lips.

“Do you want one?” you ask him, taking a sip. It burns. “Oof.”

Din turns, armor somehow so dexterous in its bulk. “No, thank you. But…”

In a surprising move, Din reaches for your hips and pulls you flush against him, ignoring the mug altogether. You shriek, worried it might spill, and set it upon the countertop, but he pays little to no mind.

“You took awhile,” he mumbles, hands grasping at the flesh of your hips. They’ve already been treated so roughly today, and now you were sure there’d be bruising. Good.

You chew at your bottom lip, desperate to know what his eyes might look like. You imagine he has dark eyes - like the color of the sky at nightfall. Maybe they became brighter in the light of the suns. Maybe they crinkled when he laughed - if he were capable of that, anyway. You’ve yet to hear such music.

“I didn’t realize you were waiting for me,” you confess, avoiding the steel gaze of his faceplate.

Din hums under his breath and taps your chin, lifting it just barely so that you can meet his stare. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, fluttering your lashes in a vain attempt to remain mysterious.

Din reaches for something behind you and reveals a scrap of fabric. “How about we try for nine?” The modulator of his helmet crackles a bit, causing his voice to sound more severe than what he may have liked.

But it does something to you.

You nod sweetly, a tiny grin threatening to sneak its way upon your face, before he takes you within his arms and lifts you upon the counter.

A shrieking, but playful, giggle bursts from your lips. “Din!” you chide, but tie the fabric around your eyes all the same.

The hiss of his helmet sounds, notifying you that he’s revealing himself to the elements now. You can hear his natural breath and feel the way it fans against your collarbones before he kisses you fiercely.

“Let me give you something to really talk about.”

[eriexplosion]

YES KILLING OFF ATHELSTAN WAS STUPID, FINALLY SOMEONE WHO GETS IT

I WILL FOREVER BE MAD AT THAT

AND THEY DID FLOKI WRONG

Anon I hope you will forgive me for how insufferable I am about to become because I have so SO many feelings about this. So fucking many feelings.

Like, okay, so I actually started the show with ALL the spoilers I could want from @thesylverlining who brought me to the show with the selling point that it had driven them completely insane for 5 years and pictures of Floki. So I started the show very much looking for any sort of lead up to what I knew happened mid season three. Cutting for length of scream because it got Long.

Reader there ain't shit! There is nothing that leads up to what happens! Nothing whatsoever! The most we get is him and Floki getting into a little snit fit the episode before where there is no indication of it going murderous whatsoever, unless you just assume Floki is randomly murderous as a default. Which he isn't! I've seen people talk about Floki being like especially violent but he literally isn't, he is Dangerous yeah but no more violent than anyone else in this show. (He is however Extremely obviously neurodivergent so, you can see why I have The Issues with people assuming that makes him especially violent)

I ended episode five of season 3 messaging Ro like 'are you sure it happens next episode????' because I could not see how they would accomplish that. And how do they accomplish it? LITERALLY TWO SEPARATE LITERAL DEUS EX MACHINAS. Two whole god visions to force characters onto the rails of killing Athelstan off with zero setup or real motive other than Because.

Athelstan's conversion back to Christianity is LAZY GARBAGE, he gets hit by a jesus beam and starts talking like a chick tract literally just regurgitating standard Born Again lines! Floki not only is put on this track via god vision but they have him choke Helga, something that you cannot tell me he would ever, ever do. It's like they both get fucking possessed! The construction of the episode is absolutely batshit!

And like, okay, hot take but Floki hating Athelstan For Real makes no sense either, which is something else I noticed as I was watching. Season one they get along fine, they're even together all winter in Floki's ONE ROOM HUT with zero indication of tension or dislike. Athelstan prays in his house for Ragnar's recovery and no one gets pissed off! They talk about the gods and Floki asks him how Christians think the world was made! They chill out beside each other the whole fight with the Earl! They do not hate each other!

Then comes season 2. And first time we see them together, Floki teases him just like he does everyone else in the scene, he treats him EXACTLY THE SAME AS EVERYONE ELSE, with fond playful teasing. Helga cuddles right up next to him and you cannot tell me Floki wouldn't get Hissy if he didn't like this man. And Athelstan has been there like seven years at that point - if you mark the seasons passing in season one, it's at least two years probably closer to three, and then we get that four year time skip. If they hated each other, they would know!

And the rest of the season? The WHOLE TIME THAT FLOKI IS FUCKING WITH HIM AND BEING A BITCH? He is literally undercover trying to get on Horik's good side! It's all fucking fake! The whole fucking thing is not real! Athelstan is not in on it and it shows, but most people weren't in on it, INCLUDING HELGA.

I watched for this, every time Floki talks shit about Athelstan in season 2, Horik or his men are in the room or nearby. The extended version actually has a bit of him talking to Torstein about how they miss Arne, how he brought light to dark times, right before he goes to fuck with Athelstan the first time with the skeleton hand and the book.

What dark times? They just got a bunch of shit from a raid, they lost Zero men, there's no dark times - unless you know that Floki is going to be acting as a mole. Athelstan is not the only one he's a jerk to this season, Ragnar obviously, he gets in Torstein's face with the THESE WOMEN DON'T LOVE YOU in the finale right before going up to Athelstan with no one wants you here! and we know both of those were fake, he loves Ragnar and Torstein. Nothing in season 2 is evidence!

(And like, as much as I call Athelstan a soft squishy boy, he is not THAT vulnerable to having his feelings hurt that if he knew someone hated him he would nearly puke from being told no one wants him here. Someone that he thought was a friend who's been acting off for a while but is now graduating to full out hostility tho? That is different.)

So like, with all this set up, season 3 being like 'everything was fake last season except the part where he hates Athelstan' is already weird. But then they fail UTTERLY to lay any groundwork for him to graduate from 'distrusting Athelstan' to 'LITERALLY COMMITTING A MURDER ON HIM'

And I have theories on this: my theory is that Athelstan and Ragnar were getting Too Gay and that the producers wanted him killed off to cut off that relationship. The writing for season 3 is uneven as fuck, and it feels like it was made up as they went along, so I don't think that it was actually the plan to kill him off that episode until they were Made to make it the plan.

And as for the use of Floki as the killer? Aside from the ableism in using the most neurodivergent of the cast as a OOO SCARY MENTALLY ILL KILLER, there is also the fact that... Floki is one of the queerest characters in the show (I actually have a SEPARATE thing on this, Floki is both obviously bi and has hella Gender implications as a man that knows poisons and healing and is Magically inclined) and his same sex support system is systematically eliminated in this season, from Torstein dying to the murder alienating him from Ragnar.

So with that, not only does having Floki kill Athelstan decidedly cut off the Athelnar path, FLOKI also has several close relationships cut off to force him Away from them. Yeah he gets to say he's in love with Ragnar, but it is in a situation where it's clear that it won't go anywhere, and Ragnar isn't allowed to also say he loves him until literally right before he goes off to knowingly die.

Men can love each other but not if there's any potential for emotional closeness, apparently.

And the reason I think it's not planned is, not only is the writing around the plot point bad, but literally everyone's character arcs FALL APART IMMEDIATELY WHEN IT HAPPENS, and while Floki kind of gets his personality back, poor fucking Ragnar sure as hell never does and it feels like they had no idea what to do with him after that point. Because Athelstan was supposed to be there, I think, and eliminating him makes everything just. Crumble.

In the Vikings book published around the time season 3 was ending, Hirst calls Athelstan the heart of the show in the intro. And he really, truly fucking was, because Vikings lost a little magic when he died and while I've enjoyed some of it after that it never TRULY gets it back. Athelstan was the heart of the show and he was killed off out of homophobia, and i will DIE on this hill.

[shinygoku]

Trust Thomas, the Better Version

I find Trust Thomas to be a guilty pleasure of sorts, an episode of Season 3 that has some serious writing issues but I can’t bring myself to hate it. But I can bring myself to improve it significantly with a rewrite!

Helped along by @mean-scarlet-deceiver ‘s commentary tags on the post I’d made about it before, I present to you my saltier, spicier interpretation! 😼✨

Maybe a smidge over the target audience’s recommended intake.... no actual swear words but still, I give it a PG for Parental Guidance ;3 Also no, I’m not gonna put this on my Ao3 as it’s an Episode Rewrite and not one’a my Original Plots.

===

======

Thomas the Tank Engine was feeling bright and cheerful. It was a splendid day, with warm sunshine, birdsong and lush green fields.

“Good morning!” he whistled to some Cows, but the Cows didn’t reply. “...Never mind, they’re busy with their breakfast.”

He stopped at a red signal, somewhat relieved that Bertie only came by after a brief pause, so he probably hadn’t heard Thomas talking fruitlessly to the cattle. Instead, Bertie was preoccupied with a large jolt as he drove over a hole.

“Owch!! That’s another one!”

“Um, sorry?” Thomas was preoccupied with the signal changing and set back off.

Thomas was still in good spirits when Bertie arrived at the next Station.

“Bad luck, Bertie!” he teased. “Now, if you were a Steam Engine, you’d be running on a pair of Reliable Rails!”

“Huh!” Bertie spat. “The Railway was supposed to deliver tar to mend the road two flippin’ weeks ago! You can’t trust a thing that runs on rails!”

“Oi, I run on rails, you big red lunchbox! I’ll show you, I’ll sort the matter out! You can at least trust me to get results.” 

Thomas left Bertie and chuffed away importantly, along the branch line towards the Big Station by the sea.

James was snorting about in the yard. He was saying many rude words and bashing the trucks roughly, cross about having to cover for Percy.

“Ooh!! Arghh! Oww!” wailed the Trucks. They longed for vengeance but were powerless to bump the big Red Engine back.

Gordon watched the events from another rail and chortled. 

“You know, James, if you were ill, you wouldn’t have to shunt trucks here, would you?” he offered, safe in his luxurious role pulling coaches that day.

James’ furious scowl lifted, all too ready to latch onto this half-baked suggestion. “That’s a good idea! Here comes Thomas, I’ll start pretending now!”

Thomas was perplexed to see the two big engines looking miserable.

“Cheer up, stick-in-the-muds! It’s a beautiful day!”

Gordon assumed the air of quiet suffering, his face creased with frown lines. “Not for James, it isn’t. He’s sick.”

“Yes he is --I mean, I am.” wavered James. There was a pause, and then he coughed a couple of times. “Ooh, I don’t feel well at all!”

Thomas narrowed his eyes as he looked over James. He didn’t really look so poorly, but then, Henry didn’t often look as bad as he’d felt before getting Welsh Coal, and then that new shape. Shame he wasn’t here to help judge.

“Hmph, really? I suppose I'll help out, if you're ill. Lucky for you that I'm already headed for the Quarry.”

He bustled out with some of James’ trucks. Once out of earshot, Gordon and James sniggered.

The Trucks were still furious over their mistreatment, and Thomas was a tempting outlet for their pent up aggression. They began to plot amongst themselves.

Thomas collected the heavy stone from the quarry and set off back to the junction. “Can’t let James forget he owes me...” he muttered, going slowly over the wooden bridge. There was something else he wanted to remember, but it was escaping him at the moment.

He was too preoccupied with these thoughts to prepare for the Trucks’ plan. “Go faster, go faster!” they shrieked, pushing forwards, assisted by the weight of the rocks they were holding.

“Augh! Slow down!!” Thomas was braking hard enough for sparks to kick off his wheels, but it was no good. He was forced off the track and derailed into a shallow, muddy pond.

He was dazed and confused, but in the wait for help his mind cleared enough to become rather cross. “Lovely flippin’ day, indeed!” he muttered, further disappointed by the lack of onlookers to hear his withering sarcasm. The only audience was a horrible slimy toad, it’s warty arms climbing up by his lamp-iron.

Eventually two engines came to his aid. Duck pulled the Trucks away, giving them a bump on the way out. “Hard luck, Thomas!” he called, over the pained sounds of the battered Trucks.

Edward helped Thomas back to the Junction and patiently listened as Thomas ranted about the horrible day he’d had.

“I’m going to find James and stuff the stones down his funnel! Gordon, too! James barely has enough brain power to think of a stupid plan like that, it must have been his smart idea! Oooh, when I get to him, I’m going to wait until his fire is out and I’ll dump him off the quay!”

“Thomas, you can’t kill them,” Edward said, soothingly. “You’d have to pick up on James’ work, for one thing! That would probably be after the Fat Controller takes Ffarquhar away from you, cause if you off Gordon we won’t have an express! That’s very costly for the railway, you know.”

Thomas muttered but privately conceded. “Can’t take Ffarquhar away, it’s a place…. Oh! Ooh!! Edward, I just remembered something!”

Glad to hear the shift in tone, Edward listened keenly. “Yes? What?”

“The roads are all dodgy down part of my line, Bertie was complaining about it earlier. He said something about us having supposed to have delivered Tar for it, d’ya know anything about that?”

“Tar… oh, yes! There’s tankers in my station, but they never said what it was for! Must be that, Driver will make arrangements when we’ve dropped you off!” 

Inside Edward’s cab was a slight sarcastic muttering, but Edward and Thomas ignored it.

Later, James spoke to Thomas. He was having difficulty making eye contact with Thomas, who was still perched on the flatbed and needing to be cleaned from the pond, and whose expression had taken a darker turn once he’d noticed the Red Engine.

“I’m uh... sorry about your accident, and so is Gordon,” he shot a pointed glare back at the Big Engine who was lurking nearby. “We didn’t mean to get you into trouble, honest!”

“No, indeed,” spluttered Gordon. “A mere accident, but all’s well that ends well, isn’t that right?”

“It bloody well isn’t right, you big blue blimp! Make sure you don’t rest too close to the sea or you’re going to find yourself well acquainted, you hear?!”

Thomas’ tirade got cut off by Bertie’s arrival.

“My road’s being mended now!” he beamed, having completely missed the atmosphere of the scene.

“Oh.” Thomas was rapidly rearranging his face to put on a smile for Bertie. “I am glad!”

James was using the chance to slip away. Gordon was a bit slower on the uptake.

“Now I know I can trust an Engine, especially if his name is Thomas! Thank you!”

Gordon slinked away like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Oh, enough of that soppy stuff.” But he was genuinely smiling, at least.

The toad had managed to stay on for the ride over, but Thomas was looking forward to watching it get put in the ditch when he was washed down. Maybe he should name it after a certain Express Engine who had ended up in that water himself some years before? The thought amused him greatly.

[hockeylvr59]

Hi. Number 1: taking a rain walk with cale. You can choose the time. Thank you !

So with all the UMass content I've been digging up I decided to take a trip back in time with this one. So we're setting this fall 2018 when Cale was a sophomore at UMass. I'm lowkey in love with this one. Big thanks to @bqstqnbruin for the help with this plot concept. (1,610 words)

~~~~~~~~

Ellie was so going to owe you for this. Dodging beer spilling out of a cup, you pushed your way through the crowded frat house, wincing as the volume of the music somehow got even louder. Your roommate Ellie had made plans to meet a guy here tonight and she’d pleaded with you to come with her in case he didn’t show or things didn’t turn out how she expected. But, as soon as she had spotted him in the crowd upon your arrival, she had disappeared and you hadn’t seen her since. That had been nearly two hours ago. Like a good friend you’d sent her a text twenty minutes or so ago checking in and you had just gotten a reply of a thumbs up and that they had left to go to a diner off-campus.

Of course, they had. A heads-up text would have been nice.

Though you wanted to be mad at her, it was hard to be when you knew how excited she had been for this date. Still, a packed frat house on a Friday night was one of the last places you wanted to spend your time. Trying to weave your way toward the door, you tripped over something and landed smack against a solid chest. A pair of hands quickly reacted, catching you and helping you regain your balance. Quickly you mumbled an apology, though it wasn’t your fault there was a drunk person sleeping on the floor with their leg in the middle of the path.

“No worries, you okay?” A deep voice questioned, causing you to look up. When you did, your eyes met a pair of reddened cheeks that were familiar to anyone on campus who didn’t live under a rock.

Cale Makar.

The hockey team’s superstar defenseman who was back for his second season despite the chance to make the jump to the NHL.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” You stated, snapping out of your daze. “Just need to get out of here.”

Cale’s gaze softened in concern and he quickly worked using his taller frame to clear a path for you until you reached the slightly less crowded front porch. It was still loud outside but at least you didn’t have to scream to hear yourself think. Slowing, you leaned against a railing just trying to catch your breath and rid your senses of some of the stench of cheap alcohol. You didn’t expect him to stay close so when he leaned against the railing beside you, you were slightly surprised.

“Did we have Western Thought together last fall?” He asked after a moment, the question catching you off guard. You thought back to your schedule last year and then bit your lip considering that query.

“Was that Tuesday/Thursday morning, Herter Hall?” Cale must have nodded because he spoke again a moment later, a smile evident in his voice.

“I thought you looked familiar.” He mused, offering out a hand. “Cale.” He greeted, introducing himself officially. Introducing yourself in return, you asked him what he had thought about the ridiculous question that had been on the final for that class. You may not remember much but that question had screwed over half the class and you certainly hadn’t forgotten the stress you’d felt waiting for grades to drop after that exam.

That question sparked an entire conversation and before you knew it, it was almost 1am.

“I should really head back to my dorm.” You admitted a bit reluctantly. “Thanks for the chat and making this party not a total bust for me.” You joked, looking up at the sky which was starting to look like rain.

“What dorm are you in?” Cale asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Grayson.” You replied with a shrug even as Cale’s eyes went a little wide.

“I’ll walk you.” He immediately declared.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.” You assured him. Grayson was all the way across campus and you weren’t sure where he was living.

“I’ll walk you,” Cale repeated, signaling that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “It’s late and you shouldn’t walk across campus by yourself, not with all these idiots around.” The way he phrased his explanation showed that he knew you could handle yourself but that didn’t mean that you should have to.

“Fine. Thank you.” You declared, shooting him a slightly exasperated look. Cale gave you a semi-dimpled smile and motioned for you to lead the way. As you walked toward the admin building and fine arts center you continued chatting about everything and nothing all at once. Conversation came easy and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were a bit taken at how smart Cale was.

You had reached the western edge of the pond, with the intention of cutting across the northern shore to make your way to your residential area, when a loud boom sounded across the sky out of nowhere. Before you could even react, torrential rain was pelting you both, soaking you to the bone. Quickly, Cale herded you over toward the library and inside. The building was quiet as he guided you up to one of the study floors murmuring that you should wait out some of the heavy rain. Knowing that you really should get home and to bed, you wanted to protest but then a flash of lightning cracked across the sky. Maybe you should wait out the storm a little bit.

Moving into a study room overlooking the pond, you shivered slightly from the air conditioning blowing through the building.

“Come here,” Cale murmured from the spot on the floor where he had settled. For a moment you eyed the chairs but then decided maybe you shouldn’t get them soaked too and the floor was probably a better option. Though you sat with some space between you and Cale, it wasn’t long before he was tugging you closer murmuring that he can’t keep you warm if you’re so far away. With another chill racing up your spine, you shifted to press against him, sighing softly at the warmth he radiated even through wet clothes.

The two of you sat in silence for a while before you heard Cale murmur your name softly.

“Yeah?” You questioned, trying not to yawn.

“Did you know that the architect of this building forgot to account for the weight of the books in his plans and that’s why only every other floor has them?” Cale stated.

“One that was totally random.” You teased softly. “Two, that’s 1000% a myth.”

When you peeked up at Cale, his cheeks were even pinker than before and they matched his lips as he did this little mindless tick you had picked up on already.

“Totally true.” He defends softly, making you giggle slightly.

“It’s not but that’s okay, you aren’t the first person to buy that myth.” You assured him. Though you didn’t notice, Cale’s face fell into a bit of a frown and he murmured under his breath that there goes trying to impress you.

Watching the rain again, you couldn’t help but yawn. Slowly your head drifted down to rest against Cale’s shoulder and you must have dozed off because the next thing you knew, Cale was murmuring your name again, trying to wake you.

“C’mon sleepy. The rain has let up a bit. This is probably our best chance to get you home.” He explained, urging you to sit up before he moved from underneath you and then pulled you up onto your feet.

Leaving the library, you started walking again through the rain, Cale chattering non-stop. You were sure it was his attempt to keep you awake and you appreciated it. At the same time though, his voice was so soothing, you almost wanted to curl right back up against his shoulder and fall asleep while he talked to you.

By the time you finally reached your dorm, it was nearly 2:30 in the morning. With the rain, a normal half-hour walk had taken three times as long. Standing in a sheltered overhang, you turned to thank Cale for making sure you got home safely.

“Definitely the most interesting first date I think I’ve been on,” Cale replied with a tired smile, his eyes still somehow bright. When your brain processed his words, your jaw dropped.

“Date?” You prodded causing Cale to hum and shrug, glancing down at his watch.

“I mean we’ve spent the last three and a half hours together talking and walking through campus. Pretty sure we can call that a date.” He insisted. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach and you ran your fingers through your wet hair. Cale was calling this a date. That was...wow.

“A date huh…” You finally breathed. “Guess that means I better get a good night kiss. Though technically it’s definitely early morning now.” Cale’s fingers slid around your waist to press against your lower back gently as he crowded closer into your space and after a moment of his eyes searching yours, he leaned down for a kiss, his lips pressing against yours chastely but firmly.

One kiss turned into two and then three before your yawning caused Cale to pull away. After asking for your number so he could take you on a non-rain date, he kissed your cheek and murmured for you to go take a warm shower, put on dry clothes, and then get some sleep.

Your lips still tingled slightly as you climbed into bed and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were the one that was going to have to owe Ellie.