#then he morphed into the car mechanic

[vapekingg]

I saw your requests are open??!! Does that mean I can ask for something very angsty? 🥺

Of courseeee

Pairing: Dom!Mechanic!EddiexFem!Reader Tags: angst, broken up, established relationship, fingering Dividers by: @inklore

Rabbit

Your parents thought they were doing you a favor when they bought you an almost-new Buick Century. It's a pile of shit, and it comes with baggage in the form of flesh and bone.

Your ex Eddie is the only mechanic in Hawkins that will touch the fucking thing, and it gets touched... a lot. More than you do since your most recent break up. And maybe your old hunk of junk knew that you'd been thinking about your ex lately, deep into the evening when your vibrator just isn’t cutting it. The power steering went out this morning and Eddie didn't hesitate to let you tow the thing to his garage after closing hours when you called to reluctantly break your no-contact streak.

Now, you're passing him tools.

Well, you're passing him beers.

He hasn't said much to you since you got here, or since the break up. But you haven't said much to him either. The sound of cicadas screaming outside of the open garage door fills any empty silence, along with the clanking of a wrench (maybe?) against metal. He makes little grunts every now and then, and you can imagine his face. The clench of his jaw, the squint of his focused eyes. You sit on the ground next to your car just like you always have while he works. He liked you to keep him company. If he still does, you can’t tell.

It’s late at night by the time Eddie finally rolls out from beneath that piece of shit. He has gloves on, a habit he’d formed because of you. You always liked visiting him at work, after all of his coworkers were gone for the day. The mechanic get up really does it for you, and Eddie never wanted to dirty you up. He wanted to fucking ruin you for anyone else — and he has — but never dirty your pretty exterior.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask him for the first time ever.

You expect him to laugh, or maybe to smile. Instead his eyebrows knit together with something between confusion and frustration. His face is hard — upset, even. He snaps off the elastic, grease covered gloves and leaves them discarded on the ground near your tire, starting then toward the mini-fridge in the corner for one last beer.

“Tell Jason he can come by and pay your tab,” Eddie responds as he leans over, fog from the fridge swarming his feet and creeping up his calves. Your eyes travel upward with the inching up the clouds to drink in his toned thighs, his narrow waist. It doesn’t take much for you to start daydreaming about the way his boxer-briefs are hugging his flesh beneath all of those clothes.

It hits you though, what he said, and your heart drops. Your eyes snap up to meet his and that look of upset on his face has morphed into something of betrayal. His lips are curled into a hard frown, arms crossing over his chest after that initial ice cold sip.

“Heard you guys were hangin’ out lately.”

“Oh, is that what you heard.” You mumble sarcastically underneath your breath.

But Eddie catches it, and he’s never been one to let your slick tongue go untested. Your attention is caught by the quick cock of his eyebrow.

“Watch it, princess.”

That’s what he’s telling you. But it’s been weeks, and the feeling of Eddie’s palm coming down unforgivingly on your ass is more enticing to you than not feeling him at all, so you bring yourself to your feet.

“If it’s that big of a deal to work on my car then I’ll just take it to someone else.” You smart back.

And that does make him smile. A shit-eating, cocky half grin that creeps crooked up his face and shows off his boyish dimples. You’re a fucking sucker, and Eddie knows it.

He pushes off of the work bench behind him and takes one stalking step toward you.

“Right,” Eddie’s dark eyes wander down your chin and trace your bare shoulders, voice quiet under the scream of insects outside. “Because that’s worked out so well every other time.”

Maybe you had worn his old cut up Corroded Coffin tank top on purpose, but at least he was taking interest. His gaze travels over your form, slowing across the hills of your breasts and the curve of your hips. You regret standing up now. Somehow you feel smaller with every slow, deliberate step that he takes forward.

“What are you really doing here? Jason not giving it to you good enough?”

Eddie’s staring at you like you’re meat, like you’re a feast for picking. The pink of his tongue darts out to wet his velvet lips as his eyes begin to travel back up. Circling your plump thighs, crawling up your soft stomach. He takes another few steps, and then he’s right there, just a foot or so away. Close enough that when he reaches forward, his fingers hook loosely into the belt loop of your shorts.

He tugs gently, thumb teasing the hem to dip just inside. His eyes are glassed over when they meet yours, he’s a little drunk, loose enough to play on the emotion that always draws you back together.

Eddie tilts his head to the side sympathetically and parts his lips, “He not fucking you hard enough, angel?”

Your skin burns. Right where his thumb strokes, a hole is being seared into your flesh. A wildfire spreading throughout your abdomen once he slips another digit beneath the hem of your shorts, joining the other to toy with the lace embroidery of your panties. A knowing smile plays at his lips when he realizes you’ve worn his favorite pair.

“You been thinkin’ ‘bout me?” Eddie’s palm slides against your abdomen as he slips his hand further into your shorts, fisting the thin fabric of your panties gently so that it tightens against your clit.

You bite back a moan, but Eddie knows you. Inside and out. He recognizes how your back straightens and your eyes go all hazy when he’s making you feel good. And making you feel good makes him feel good.

“Yeah, I bet you have. That rabbit just ain’t cuttin’ it, huh?”

It’s absolutely not cutting it.

You think about him, every night. With that silicone working between your thighs. You squeeze your eyes closed and remember the unforgiving snap of Eddie’s hips as he drives himself into you. How he’d sneak in through your bedroom window and hold his hand over your mouth so that your parents wouldn’t hear.

He takes another step toward you, his hand flattening against your mound as he traps you between his form and your car.

“Answer me, baby.”

But when you open your mouth to deny these allegations, his middle finger glides over your clit, stroking through your folds to make note of your obvious arousal.

“And don’t bother lying,” he continues.

Another digit joins his middle finger, calloused appendages moving in gentle motions around the most neglected parts of you. You can’t help but to reach for him. His collar. His wrist. Anywhere that will anchor the two of you together. Anything that will keep him from leaving you.

“I—” you begin, voice shaky but determined, “I’ve… missed you.”

Like the setting of the sun beneath the horizon, Eddie’s face shifts in nature. His mocha eyes blacken. Any restraint he was showing you prior sinks to the ground as he buries two fingers deep inside your sopping cunt and pins you against the side of your car with his hip.

“What’ve you missed?” He spits, free hand ripping up to capture your throat in a vice.

Eddie curls his fingers forward, and there’s that buzzing in your brain. That release of dopamine and endorphins that keeps you crawling back to him. No one else is quite this addictive.

"This," you mewl with no thought behind the words. Your body goes slack and you're held up by his hands alone. "This. I've missed this."

“Yeah you have,” he teases.

And just as quickly as it begins, Eddie yanks his hand out of your shorts. He leaves you empty, soaking, desperate for more.

But instead of being the hand that feeds you, Eddie takes a step back. He brings his fingers to his lips and his tongue darts out to lap at the coated digits.

An audible groan leaves his throat as he leans back against his workbench.

“Just like fuckin’ candy,” he says, then punches the red button that releases the lift rack that’s barely holding your car off the ground. It begins to lower behind you.

“I’d hate for you to keep Jason waiting,” Eddie continues with a cheeky grin.

He knows that Jason prefers his girls studious, timely.

But Eddie just prefers you. And until you’re his again… well, his preference is irrelevant.

[transform4u]

My boyfriend and I are in a loving relationship, but we're both pretty crappy when it comes to handy work. His car broke down and its going to cost a lot of money. I wish there was a way I could fix it for him.

Standing over your boyfriend's car, frustration radiates from you. The engine's persistent sputtering and the vague sense of impending doom around the vehicle's state of disrepair have you fuming. You snatch your cellphone from your pocket, desperate to find a mechanic who can rescue you from this mess. Just as you're scrolling through contact lists and Google searches, you hear a sudden, jarring snaaappppp—like a rubber band stretched too far and snapping back.

Your eyes widen in shock as your phone starts to ooze a thick, greasy substance. It spreads quickly, coating your hand and dripping onto your clothes. Before you can react, the greasy ooze starts to morph your outfit into something far more rugged: your pristine attire transforms into a pair of smelly, workout overalls. They’re stained with gasoline and grease, clinging to you with a damp, pungent odor. You take a deep breath and let out a long, appreciative “Damnnnn boy,” as the smell of oil and sweat fills your nostrils.

You notice your Adam's apple swelling, protruding noticeably from your throat, and your voice deepening into a gravelly, rough baritone. Your body begins to shift, growing more muscular with each passing second. Muscles ripple across your arms and chest, your frame expanding and filling out with a newfound bulk. The greasy substance seems to seep into your skin, making you more rugged and burly, covered in a light smattering of body hair that adds to the overall gruff appearance.

As the transformation settles, you can almost feel your brain getting fuzzier, your intellectual thoughts slipping away like oil from a pan. It’s like your mind is getting slicked over with a thick layer of grease, making way for raw mechanical instinct. Your focus narrows to the car, and suddenly, you're a whirlwind of efficiency and strength.

With a clank and a clang, you dive into the engine bay, your hands working with a dexterity and precision that seem almost superhuman. You tighten bolts, replace parts, and clean out the grime with an almost absurd ease. The car groans and purrs under your skilled touch, its problems vanishing one by one.

Finally, with a resounding thud, you slam the hood shut, the metal reverberating with the impact. As you step back, a loud, obnoxious fart escapes from you—one of those deep, rumbling, unabashed ones that make the ground shake. You chuckle to yourself, a deep, throaty laugh that matches your newfound persona. You feel a lightness as any last vestiges of smarts, those pesky remnants of your former self, seem to float away, carried off on the smell of exhaust and the echo of your laughter.

In this new state, you stand proudly next to the now-purring car, your greasy, muscled form the epitome of auto-mechanical prowess. You look up and down at your former boyfriend, who now stands at his car looking at you with contempt. Your mind twists and turns, forgetting the fact that the two of you dated. In fact, you think this guy is nothing but a no good city liberal faggot, who can't even fix his own car.

You saunter over to him, a smirk playing on your lips. You extend your hand for a handshake, but he just asks, "How much for the repairs buddy?" You give him a look over, realizing that this preppy son of a bitch is probably pretty loaded. "Goin' be $2,500. Cash," you say with a grin.

He hands you the money without a second thought and drives off. You just chuckle, pocketing the cash. This was going to go a long way at the nudie bar down the street. You couldn't wait to get off work and start throwing dollar bills at those strippers. Nothing you loved more than cracking open a cold beer and watching some dumb blonde whore shake her titties.

You head inside the garage, whistling a tune. The day's work was almost done, and you had a nice stack of cash to show for it. You wipe the grease off your hands and grab a fresh beer from the mini-fridge. Popping it open, you take a long swig, the cold liquid refreshing after a hard day's work.

The strip club was already starting to fill up when you arrived. You grab a seat right up front, slamming your fist on the table to get the attention of the waitress. "Keep 'em comin'," you say, sliding a crisp $100 bill across to her. She gives you a wink and saunters off.

The first dancer of the night takes the stage, a blonde bombshell with tits that could suffocate a man. You lean back in your chair, taking another swig of your beer as she starts to grind to the music. This was your idea of a perfect night - cold beer, hot women, and no one to answer to but yourself. The world was your oyster, and you were going to enjoy every second of it.

[its-avalon-08]

Can you do a fluffy and angsty fic for Lando after Austria, his girl comforting him. I'm surprised there aren't more after what happened under the tags but the only ones that were there are smut, which I don't really want to read I want fluff and angst.

look at you now (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - tears, comfort, negative self talk

The silence in the McLaren motorhome was deafening. Lando slammed the door shut behind him, the force echoing through the sterile space. He could feel the sting of Zak Brown's disappointed gaze and the worried glances of the mechanics burning into his back. But all he saw was red. The vibrant blue and red of Verstappen's car that had stolen his dream away at the last corner.

He stormed into his living quarters, helmet flung across the room with a dull thud. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring the already distorted reflection staring back at him from the mirror. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he yelled, slamming his fists against the cool glass.

The sound of his own voice startled him, the raw anger morphing into a crushing wave of despair. This wasn't just any race. This one, at the heart of Austria, could have been his. He'd driven his heart out, pushing the McLaren to its limits, only to have it ripped away in a heartbeat.

Just then, the bedroom door creaked open. Y/N, her normally cheerful face etched with concern, stepped inside. One look at Lando's hunched form, and her face crumpled in sympathy.

"Lando," she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

He turned, the dam breaking. He fell onto the plush sofa, burying his face in his hands as choked sobs wracked his body. Y/N sat beside him, her arms wrapping around him in a silent embrace. She didn't try to talk, just let the storm rage within him.

Slowly, the intensity of his sobs subsided into shaky breaths. He finally looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy. "I messed up, Y/N," he croaked, his voice thick with shame. "I had it. I had the win. And I threw it all away."

Y/N cupped his face, her touch sending a jolt of warmth through his chilled body. "Hey, no," she said gently, her gaze unwavering. "It wasn't your fault. These things happen."

His voice broke again. "But it could have been different. I should have been more careful, should have backed out. Now, Max extends his lead, and all the hard work..." He trailed off, unable to finish the crushing sentence.

"Lando," Y/N interrupted, her voice firm but laced with love. "Listen to me. You drove a phenomenal race. You were brilliant out there. Don't let one incident define you."

He shook his head, the self-loathing swirling inside him. "It's more than an incident, Y/N. It's my season, maybe even my championship dreams, going up in smoke. What if it was all for nothing? What if I'm just not good enough?"

His voice cracked on the last word, a raw vulnerability Y/N had rarely seen. She squeezed his hand, her heart aching for him. "No," she said fiercely. "Don't you dare say that. You are one of the most talented drivers on the grid. This doesn't change that."

He looked down at his trembling hands. "But what if I keep making these stupid mistakes? What if I'm just a glorified crasher?" The words were bitter on his tongue, fueled by the self-doubt gnawing at him.

Y/N's eyes widened. "Lando, stop it! You are not a crasher. You're a racer, a damn good one. This doesn't erase all the podiums, all the incredible races you've driven."

He let out a humorless scoff. "Yeah, a few podiums here and there. But a win? A championship? Maybe that's just a dream for someone else, someone who doesn't crack under pressure."

Y/N's heart clenched. She hated seeing him like this, tearing himself down. But she knew blind reassurances wouldn't work. She needed to reach the root of his despair.

"Lando," she said softly, "where is this coming from? This isn't the Lando I know, the one who fights tooth and nail for every position."

He met her gaze, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. "Maybe I'm not that Lando anymore. Maybe I'm just a disappointment."

The pain in his voice was a knife twisting in her gut. But she knew this wasn't the time for coddling. He needed a reality check, a reminder of the racer he truly was.

y/n's pov

"Lando, listen to me," I said, my voice firm but laced with the fierce love I felt for him. I cupped his tear-streaked face, forcing him to look into my eyes. "This isn't some pit stop gone wrong, some tire strategy backfiring. This is you, deep down, and that man staring back at me is someone I barely recognize."

He flinched at my words, a flicker of hurt crossing his eyes. But I couldn't sugarcoat it. He needed a wake-up call, a reminder of the incredible person he was.

"This self-loathing, this tearing yourself down – that's not you. You're Lando Norris, the fearless racer who takes corners with the precision of a surgeon and the audacity of a daredevil. You're the one who leaves veterans speechless with your talent, the one who brings a smile to every engineer's face because you push the car to its limits and beyond."

I paused, letting my words sink in. His eyes were glistening, but a flicker of curiosity peeked through the storm of emotions.

"Yes, this race didn't go your way," I continued, my voice softening. "But that doesn't erase all the incredible moments, Lando. Remember Miami , the way you battled for the lead lap after lap? Or Sochi, that daring overtake on the last corner that stole the show? You don't define yourself by one mistake."

"But what if..." he started, his voice barely a whisper.

I cut him off gently. "There will be mistakes, Lando. That's part of racing, part of life. But you learn from them, you come back stronger. And that's exactly what you'll do. Because that's who you are. A fighter, a champion in the making."

Taking a deep breath, I shifted the focus. "And beyond the track, Lando? You're the one who lights up a room with your goofy grin, the one who donates his time to charities close to his heart. You're the one who surprises me with those ridiculous flower crowns and remembers the smallest details about my day. You're an amazing boyfriend, a kind soul, and that doesn't change just because of a DNF."

A single tear escaped his eye, but this time, it wasn't one of despair. It was a tear of understanding, a flicker of the Lando I knew and loved starting to shine through.

"You are so strong my love," I finished, my voice thick with emotion. "And stronger than any setback this sport can throw your way. Don't let one race define you. Remember who you are, the incredible racer, the amazing boyfriend, the extraordinary person I fell in love with."

end of y/n's pov

Y/N's words hung in the air, a balm to the storm raging inside Lando. He stared at her, the self-doubt slowly receding, replaced by a flicker of the fighting spirit she'd ignited. He wasn't a failure, and he wouldn't let this break him.

With a surge of determination, he cupped her face in his calloused hands. "You're right," he murmured, his voice raw but filled with newfound resolve. "I am Lando Norris. And I'm not done yet."

Before she could reply, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss of gratitude, of rediscovery, of a love that wouldn't be shaken. He poured his emotions into it, the frustration, the self-doubt, and the overwhelming love for the woman who held him together.

Y/N responded in kind, her kiss fierce and full of support. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, a shaky smile played on Lando's lips.

"Thank you," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers.

Y/N squeezed his hand. "Always."

Settling back on the sofa, he pulled her close, his head resting on her chest. The familiar rise and fall of her breath soothed him, a calming rhythm against the chaos in his mind.

Y/N carded her fingers through his hair, a gesture that always brought him comfort. The soft strands tickled his scalp, sending a wave of relaxation washing over him. He closed his eyes, the sound of her gentle humming filling the space between them.

He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy. There would be more races, more challenges. But with Y/N by his side, he was ready to face them all. He would learn from his mistakes, come back stronger, and chase his dream with renewed determination. Because he wasn't just Lando Norris, the racer. He was Lando Norris, the man who loved and was loved in return, and that, he realized, was the greatest victory of all.

[theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass]

Friendly lips | L.N.

Lando Norris x friend!reader

Summary: Two close friends, find themselves at a pivotal moment during a Formula 1 race. When a spontaneous kiss ignites a spark of something neither can wrap their heads around.

Warnings: lil sexual themes, fluff.

Word count: ~1.2K

Friendly lips pt. 2

<

The air at the racetrack buzzed with excitement as the Formula 1 Grand Prix revved up for a thrilling race. Lando Norris stood by his car, nerves coursing through his veins. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment, you, his best friend and one of his biggest supporters, had promised to come watch the race, but you were nowhere to be found, and he feared you might have chosen not to come...

As the race began, Lando's focus shifted to the track, his bright orange McLaren darting ahead with exhilarating speed. The laps seemed to blur together, and he couldn't help but sneak glances at the garage every time he stopped for a change of tires, hoping to spot your familiar face. But you were nowhere in sight, and the weight of disappointment pressed down on him even more.

After what felt like an eternity, the race concluded with Lando securing a respectable finish. Exhausted and disappointed, he trudged over to the post-race interview area. Reporters surrounded him, thrusting microphones and cameras in his face, but his eyes continued to dart around the pit lane in search of you. Now his disappointment and sadness morphed into anger. Why the hell are you not here?

And then, as the interview began, something incredible happened. Lando's eyes locked onto you, standing in his garage, chatting with one of the mechanics.

He couldn't believe it. You were here. And you look fresh as a cherry plucked from a tree. Your lively rose blush covering your cheeks and that strawberry color lipgloss atop your lips which were pulled into the most dazzling smile he had ever seen. And your eyes. They were locked on him, sparkling brighter than the flashes of cameras surrounding him.

He completely disregarded the questions the interviewer was throwing at him now and sprinted toward you, his heart pounding with elation.

You were here for him and you were looking at him with remaints of tears in your eyes.

He came up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Before you could react, he lifted you off the ground and spun you around, earning an exuberant scream from you. Laughter spilled from both of you as he finally put you down, but he didn't let go. Instead, he held you close, nuzzling his face into your hair and taking a deep breath.

"Sorry for being late, Lando," you said, your voice warm with affection. "The traffic was insane, and I thought I'd miss it all."

Lando squeezed you tightly and replied, "Doesn't matter now. You're here, and that's all that matters.“

“Have you been crying?” he questioned, concern etched on his features, his warm finger just below your eye touching a wet patch left by a tear.

“How could I not? You finished yet another race in one piece. I could not be happier” you squished his cheek making the both of you giggle.

As the day turned into evening, Lando and you found yourselves in the comfort of his hotel room, cuddled up in bed, enjoying a movie. Lando lay on your chest, drawing lazy circles on your torso with his finger, while your hand was softly running through his tousled hair.

Lando lifted himself onto his forearms, his face hovering just above yours, and his deep blue eyes roamed your features. "Thank you for coming today," he murmured, a genuine smile gracing his lips "Seeing you made me really happy."

You gave him a warm smile and gently caressed his cheek. "I know, sorry I was late though."

He smirked mischievously, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. "I know a way you can make it up to me."

You chuckled, "That's disgusting, Lando."

Lando rolled onto his back, sighing dramatically. "Oh, come on, Y/N. Just one kiss, pleaseeee." He batted his eyelashes and gave you puppy-dog eyes.

You pretended to consider his request, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because we're friends, and friends kiss each other when they really need it," Lando declared, grinning.

You thought for a moment then teasingly replied, "Hmm, you're right... I'm gonna go find Carlos and make out with him."

But before you could even attempt to get out of the bed, Lando playfully pushed you back down, his expression a mixture of amusement and determination. "Oh, baby, if you're kissing an F1 driver, it's gonna be me."

You couldn't help but laugh at his antics, feeling yourself succumb to his weird request. "Well, in that case, I suppose one little kiss won't hurt."

As your lips met, the laughter subsided into a warm, affectionate moment, one you have never experienced before with your friend.

Lando and you pulled away from the kiss, your heartbeats racing in sync, as if echoing the Formula 1 engines that had roared around the track earlier in the day. The air in the room felt charged, and you exchanged a long, searching look. Had you two just crossed the limits of friendship? Or was this merely another instance of casual, friendly behaviour between two good friends?

You shared a nervous but genuine laugh, trying to alleviate the tension with friendly banter.

"Well, that was interesting," Lando mused with a playful grin, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "But I guess friends sometimes do crazy things, right?"

You chuckled, "Well, if I ever need to practice my kissing skills, I know who to call," both trying but failing to diminish the weird feelings brewing inside.

“Well you’re a cheeky one aren’t you, just using me for my incredible kissing skills and a hot body” he feigned being mad and turned away from you with a pout, crossing his hands over his chest.

“Idiot,” you slap his back playfully feeling the awkwardness dissipate between you two, “now turn of the TV, it’s time to get some sleep before your race tomorrow.”

“Are you gonna be late to this one too?” he piped up mockingly again and soon regretted it letting out a few scared ‘sorry’ after you hit him with your pillow before laying it back in its place and murmuring out a “goodnight Norris.”

He chuckled once more staring at your now still form just a few feet away from him before getting under the covers himself, praying he wakes up tomorrow and finds out that as amazing as the kiss was, it was just a dream and there are no consequences left to deal with.

You lay together in the dark room, each of you with your own inner monologues revolving about the same thing. You both, but separately couldn't help but wonder if there was more to your relationship than just friendship now.

After all, it was indeed an unusual experience for friends to know the taste of each other's lips...

>

A.N. should there be a part 2?

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Stillness in Tremor (dp x dc)

It’s not a pilgrimage, not really. 

It’s a matter of remembrance, Roshanna thinks to herself as she looks down at the grave. The two years engraved on the stone are too close together, and her shoulders slump as her head hangs.

It wasn’t fair that she was the only one to make it out of that stupid car. Not for anyone.

“Are you alright?” She hears behind her and when she turns she finds herself facing kind teal eyes.

“What?” Roshanna says, startled as she straightens up and continues. “Oh, yes. I’m fine.”

“Ok,” the girl says, though she doesn’t move.

Roshanna is unsure of what to do. “Are you looking for something?” She tries.

“No, sorry,” the girl says as she looks away, embarrassed. Roshanna could leave the conversation there and that would be that but something compels her.

“Are you visiting someone?”

The girl’s gaze gains a sad tint as she looks to the side in the distance. “Not really. I’m here to, well, mourn, I guess. It’s complicated.”

Roshanna frowns. “How?”

The girl hesitates for a second before sighing. “The person I’m mourning, they don’t have a grave. Barely anyone knows he died, really.”

The dark-haired girl feels her face twist at that. That seems like a terribly sad thing, that so few people care about the girl’s person. 

“I’m sorry,” she says.

The girl gives her a slight smile, awkward and sad.

“What was his name?” Roshanna asks. 

There the girl’s smile morphs into something fond but bittersweet. “Danny.”

Roshanna repeats it to herself in her mind. Danny. 

“May you rest well, Danny,” she says. Roshanna plucks the wildflower she had put in her coat pocket to press down, and gives it to the girl. “You are remembered.”

The girl’s eyes are wide, and she takes the flower almost mechanically. Her eyes then close back and even though Roshanna is no Virtue, she can practically sense the waves of gratitude coming from the girl.

“Thank you,” she says in the most earnest voice Roshanna has heard. “Thank you.”

Roshanna can do nothing but nod in return.

[augustjustice]

Children Behave (That's What They Say When We're Together), 2/2

AO3

Part 1

"Somebody had better be on fire," Steve says, jabbing a warning finger in the direction of four slack-jawed faces. 

"You weren't answering your walkie," Dustin replies mechanically. He holds up his own in explanation, the motion jerky, as though he's operating on autopilot. "Either of you."

"Yeah, well," Steve swings out an arm dramatically, encompassing the both of them. "We're fine. You can see that we're fine.” 

Eddie wiggles his fingers at them as if to demonstrate, the wave distressingly similar to the one Steve uses when he’s just been caught and is trying to look disarming and harmless.

“So can you go now?"

“Yeah,” Eddie darts a look over to Steve, the corner of his mouth twitching, “Harrington and I have got some…business we’re looking to finish up here.”

Max can’t manage to hold back her snort, though it doesn’t really look like she was trying all that hard.

“Oh, yeah, whatever you two have been up to looked super professional a couple minutes ago,” she comments wryly.

Steve narrows his eyes.

“Were you guys seriously spying on us? You have got to be shitting me. I expected better from…" his gaze grazes over the teens standing there one-by-one, seemingly dismissing each of them in turn before finally landing on– "Lucas! I expected better from you of all people, Sinclair. Thought you knew how to mind your business, unlike the rest of these nosy little menaces."

"Hey!" Mike and Dustin protest simultaneously.

Max, for her part, looks completely unaffected, and furthermore not even a little guilty.

Lucas points to her.

"Where my lady goes, I too must follow."

"Aww, that's sweet," Eddie comments, completely sincere as he looks between the two of them. Then he reaches over and smacks Steve lightly on the shoulder. "How come you don't ever say romantic shit like that to me, Harrington?"

Steve rolls his eyes.

"You're not helping."

"Wasn't trying to, sunshine," Eddie's smile remains, wide and mischievous. "Still doesn't answer my question."

"I dove through a portal to the Upside Down for you!"

"That was just you and your big damn hero shtick, don't act like that was about me. Besides, I'm the one who literally followed you into hell."

Steve's expression suddenly takes on a sly, triumphant edge.

"So you admit it, then. It was romantic when you did it!"

"No no no, I didn’t say that. I confess to nothing, good sir!"

Their banter is only disrupted by Mike’s spluttering. 

“You–you and Steve?!” he squeaks, seeming no less blindsided than he had been when he suspected it was Nancy in the car. “It’s weird enough having to watch you guys be friends, but–”

"Oh, we're real friendly now," Eddie drawls, shooting Steve a wink and a dimpled grin. "Isn't that right, Harrington?"

"Shut up," Steve complains, giving Eddie's shoulder a shove, but everyone present can see the way he ducks his head, a smile twitching helplessly at the corner of his mouth.

As a collective, the party–even Mike–shoot each other a series of pointed looks, communicating telepathically the way close friends sometimes do. They've all seen Steve in date mode more times than they care to count, but have they ever seen him look so…flustered?

And as some of the initial shell shock starts to wear off, Dustin’s expression begins to morph into something almost…smug.

"I would just like to point out…" he says in typical, sanctimonious fashion, "that I told you both you’d really get along if you just got to know each other."

Max snorts again.

"What, by sticking their tongues down each other's throats?"

The look on her face holds nothing but amusement, which is a relief, though Steve's not sure how he feels about the mischievous glee that accompanies it.

"No!" Dustin protests, embarrassment tinging his face. "Not that I care about that, just–I'm just saying I told you so!"

“Nobody likes a know-it-all, Dusty Buns,” Eddie sing-songs.

“Right?!” Steve cuts a look across to Eddie. “The mouth on this kid, I swear. How’d he turn out to be such a little smart ass?”

The way Eddie’s lips twitch suggests he’s seconds away from laughing. “Our terrible influence, probably.” 

“That must be it.”

“Never mind, I take it back. I regret everything, and I’m sorry I ever introduced the two of you.”

Steve and Eddie dart a glance at each other, exchanging quick, shit-eating grins.

“But, I mean, that’s not even accurate. You did not introduce us, I’ve known who Eddie was literally for years,” Steve has to protest when he turns back to the kids, partially because it is true, and partially because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna give Dustin the satisfaction, not after the night he’s had. 

“Yeah, cuz I used to sell at all your fancy little shindigs.”

“Not just because of that. Don’t know how to tell you this, Munson, but you’re kinda hard to miss.”

Eddie gawps at him.

“Are you suggesting that King Steve paid attention to little ole me? You’ve made my year, Stevie, truly you have.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m honestly not really sure how anybody could miss you with all those big speeches of yours. Pretty annoying, to be honest.”

“Nah, you liiiiike me,” Eddie taunts. He reaches out, as if he’s about to pinch at one of Steve’s cheeks, but Steve manages to dodge out of the way with his fine-tuned athletic reflexes, batting Eddie’s hand away.

“Well, I think it’s nice,” Lucas pipes up, before the pair of them can fall into their flirtatious back-and-forth again, deliberately shooting Mike a pointed look.

“Thank you, Sinclair,” Steve says. “At least somebody around here has manners.” 

“I still think it’s gross,” Mike mutters.

“And just why is that, Little Wheel?” Eddie asks, lifting one warning eyebrow. “Cuz me and Harrington are both guys?”

“No! Because it’s Steve!” Mike flings out his arms, gesturing to him in disbelief. “First my sister, and then Wi–whu-women! The women of Hawkins, and now you, too?! He’s a jock! What do you even see in him??”

“Wow, thanks a lot, Wheeler,” Steve says, deadpan.

As Lucas lets out a soft, protesting hey! of his own, Max twines her arm tightly around his, glaring daggers at Mike.

“The Munson doctrine’s undergone some pretty heavy revisions, the past few months,” Eddie tugs a strand of hair towards his mouth, shooting Steve a fond look. “Are there some shitty jocks out there? Sure. But there’s plenty more who aren’t. I was a dickhead, to act like we were natural born enemies, or some shit. Assholes are assholes, and we shall judge them accordingly, regardless of creed.”

“Yeah, Mike. Don’t be a jackass like Munson,” Max challenges, grin sharp. 

“Mayfield…” Steve warns with a groan, but Eddie only laughs. 

“Nah, she’s right, Stevie.” Reaching forward, he ruffles Mike’s hair. “Listen to Red–she’s a smart lady–and don’t make the same mistakes as me, Wheeler.”

Mike scoffs, but falls silent, looking suitably chastised. 

Steve squints at them, then, looking both suspicious and curious. "Wait. How the hell did you guys get out here, anyway?"

"We rode. Bikes," Lucas thumbs over his shoulder up into the trees, where their bicycles still lay abandoned. 

"Seriously?" Steve huffs. Running a hand through his hair, he finally gets out of the car, rounding it as he pops open the trunk. "Just…get in the damn car."

"What, in the trunk?" Max asks, just to be a smartass, but the look Steve cuts her tells her he is not having it this evening. She holds up her hands in surrender. "Kidding, I was only kidding. Jeez."

A fair amount of bike wrangling later, the four of them pile into the Beemer’s backseat, packing in tight like a can of sardines. 

“How come Eddie gets shotgun?” Dustin whines in protest just as one of Mike’s sharp elbows digs into his side.

“One,” Steve actually literally begins to tick off on his fingers, not even bothering to turn around, “because you guys are annoying the shit out of me right now, no way one of you rascals gets to ride up front. And two,” he holds up his middle finger deliberately, “boyfriend privileges.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up at the declaration, a toothy smile creasing his face. But there’s something soft around the edges of it, even as he deliberately leans into Steve’s face.

“I’m your boyfriend, Stevie?”

“Well–yeah. Duh, of course you are,” Steve splutters, two bright spots of pink blooming on his cheeks, “I mean–unless you didn’t want–not if you’re not–”

Eddie presses a finger against Steve’s lips, silencing him with a shushing sound.

“No take backs now, Harrington. I’m your boyfriend. Said so yourself.”

“You’re gonna be really insufferable about this, aren’t you?” Once again, Steve’s smile really undercuts his put upon sigh.

“You bet your sweet ass I am.”

“Ew!” Mike protests at the same moment Dustin squawks, “Don’t talk about his ass! There are children present!”

“Really, Henderson? Children?” Steve finally cranes to look at them over his shoulder, one eyebrow quirked up sardonically. “That’s not what you said last week, when you tried to talk me into buying you beer.”

“You tell ‘em, sweetheart!”

Max rolls her eyes. “Can we please just go? Preferably before you two and your sickening sweetness gives me a cavity?”

And their bickering doesn’t quiet the entire ride back into the neighborhoods of Hawkins.

---

As they pull up in front of their first stop of the night–the Wheelers and the Sinclairs–Steve catches Eddie’s eye, then turns to face the four teens in the backseat again. 

“Look, before you get out,” he starts, stilling Lucas and Mike, each with a hand on their respective door handles, “I just wanted to say…it’s cool, you know, that you guys worry. I get it. But, we’re all okay now. Yeah?”

“What were you doing out by Lover’s Lake?” Dustin asks, a hint of an accusation in his voice. 

“Other than the obvious, like we tried to tell you?” Max snarks back. 

“That one’s on me, Henderson,” Eddie raises a hand, like he’s just been reluctantly called on in class. “Supply run. We decided to make a night of it.”

Both Dustin and Mike’s faces screw up at the way Eddie waggles his eyebrows suggestively, while Max simply elbows Dustin in admonishment from her perch on Lucas’s lap.

“But, no need to worry, kiddos. I’ve got Harrington, now. I’ll protect him from the big bad world,” Eddie winks as Steve shoots him an exasperated but fond look.

“What I’m trying to say,” Steve starts pointedly, steering the conversation back on track, “is maybe it’s time we, I don’t know–stopped worrying so much, and let ourselves be stupid teenagers for a while? That goes for you guys, too.” He wags a finger at them. “But not too stupid, okay? I’m still responsible for you shitheads.”

As a collective, they sigh out, We know, Steve, before Lucas and Mike finally climb out of the car. 

But, despite their show of annoyance, as Steve and Eddie drop them off one-by-one, watching until they each make it inside, the party members all arrive home secure in the knowledge that these days the lake is just a lake, their babysitter and dungeon master safe. And maybe, just maybe, the four of them sleep a little sounder in their beds that night, realizing they might finally get the chance to be stupid teenagers, too, with nothing more than too nosey friends out there waiting for them in the dark.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Ok, here comes one word promt for bucktommy

Fake-dating

This was a cute one to write. Thank you 🩶

***

Hen and Chim and recently gotten back in contact with an old member of the 118, Tommy, and wanted to get everyone together for night at the bar.

It was a fun night. Maddie and Chim had left earlier to pick up Jee, but Hen and Karen were still showing up everyone on the dance floor, leaving Eddie and Buck at the table with Tommy.

Buck couldn’t get over just how fucking cool this guy was. He flew helicopters in the army, now helicopters and planes for the LAFD. He did Muay Thai, apparently had a car lift and mechanics pit in his garage.. He was a man.

He had tonnes in common with Eddie, too and Buck couldn’t help feel a ping of jealousy. Tommy had far more in common with Eddie than he ever did.

Tommy had been at the bar getting them drinks and talking to someone but pointing to their table. Buck instinctively waved back and immediately felt like an idiot. Tommy walked back to the table a little quickly and placed the drinks down.

“Okay this is going to sound weird I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“What do I get out of it?” Eddie asked.

“Uh, nothing because I was talking to Evan.” Buck felt an odd sensation in his stomach.

“Uh, me?” He said, eyebrows up.

“Him”? Eddie question.

“Yeah, he’s more my type.” He said and Buck didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Well I feel deeply rejected.” Eddie joked. Tommy rolled his eyes.

“I’ll explain everything later, but that guy at the bar is my ex, and he won’t leave me alone. So I said I was with someone and he asked who, and I panicked and I said you, thinking he’d leave me alone. But I was wrong and he wants to meet you and I’m sorry and I’ll pay for all your drinks the rest of the night if you pretend for the next few minutes.” He looked at Buck with pleading eyes. Somehow Buck couldn’t say no to them.

“Uh, sure.” He said. Tommys face morphed into a smile, with deep lines framing his eyes and Buck couldn’t help smiling back as they held eye contact.

“That guy is coming over.” Eddie informed them. Tommy took a seat next to Buck only a bit closer than before. He slid an arm behind him resting it against the top of the booth seat.

He was a few inches shorter than Tommy, with hair similar colour to Bucks but much shorter. He was built similarly to Buck too.

The man took a seat from a nearby table and placed at the end of theirs sitting down.

“Are you going to introduce us, T?’

“Shane, this is Evan.”

“Buck, everyone calls me Buck.” He said reaching forward and o shake Shane’s hand. When he sat back he could feel the warmth of Tommys arm on the back of his neck. A strange flush came through him.

“Oh and this is Eddie.”

“Hey, man.” Eddie shook his hand also.

Shane looked between Buck and Tommy. “So, how long have you been together?”

“6 months.” Tommy replied effortlessly.

“So not very long then.” Shane said in a hopeful tone.

“True, but when you know you know. Right babe?” He looked at Buck.

“Uh, yeah.” Buck agreed looking at Tommy. Tommy smiled at him and again Buck couldn’t help but smile back. There was something in the way that Tommy smiled that he couldn’t put his finger on .

“They’re honestly adorable.” Eddie chimed in “Can’t get enough of each other.” Buck saw the grin and amused look on Eddie’s face. He was clearly enjoying this.

The music changed from upbeat to slow and couples began moving closer to one another on the dance floor.

“Hey don’t you guys love this song?” Eddie said. “You should totally dance to it.” Buck threw Eddie a look but he just grinned in response.

“We’re enjoying our drinks for now.” Tommy replied.

“Oh I can keep an eye on those. Don’t worry.” Eddie said back.

“What’s the matter?” Shane asked. “You love to dance. I remember you-“

“Absolutely.” Tommy interrupted. “We’d love to dance. Wouldn’t we Evan?” He looked at him and tapped his foot against his under the table hoping that he would agree.

“Uh, sure. Yeah.” Tommy left the booth, followed by Buck and walked over to where other couples were dancing. Buck looked back at Eddie who was still grinning widely. Son of bitch was loving every moment of it.

Buck stood in front of Tommy awkwardly. All the other people dancing had their arms around each other and he had no clue what to do.

“You’ve never danced with a man before have you?” Tommy asked sensing his awkwardness

“Is it that obvious?” He replied.

“Luckily for you I’m an aficionado. Here..” he took Bucks arms and put them around his shoulders then put his own around Bucks waist. “Is this okay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Listen, Evan, I know I asked for your help but really if you’re uncomfortable we can stop.” Tommy told him. His expression was open and gentle and Buck knew that he meant what he said.

“It’s fine. Really.” He said and they began to sway slowly.

“Thank you, by the way. You’re really saving my ass.”

“What’s the deal with him? Was it a bad break up?” Buck asked.

“He wasn’t a bad boyfriend, just.. kind of obsessed with me.” He said.

“Isn’t it a good thing to be obsessed with your significant other?” Buck asked.

“There’s a limit. He wanted to be with me all the time. And I mean all the time. Got to the point I couldn’t use the bathroom without him knocking on the door to talk to me.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. I love spending time with the person I’m with but I do like time to spend with my friends or just myself. In the end I had to break it off and as you can see he still hasn’t moved on. I’m hoping he’ll see us dancing and it’ll click for him they we’re over.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Asked Buck.

“I’ve always wanted a Vegas wedding. You in?.” Tommy joked and Buck laughed loudly.

“Well, I’m easy to live with and I’m a pretty good cook.” Buck said back.

“Good to know.” Tommy smiled. Buck felt that flush of heat again as Tommy looked at him. He broke eye contact and looked over at their table. Shane was staring intently at them, meanwhile Eddie was leaning over whispering to Hen and Karen, still grinning and pointing at them. Buck was never going to live this down.

“He’s still watching by the way.” Buck told him. Tommy sighed, annoyed. Buck took the initiative and moved closer, tightening his arms around Tommys neck. The move surprised Tommy and he waited a beat before wrapping his arms further around Bucks waist.

“So what about you. Any significant other?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, no. My last ex was also a little obsessive. Not about me, though. At least not directly. All she wanted to talk about the fact that I died.” Tommy looked at him confused.

“I have questions...”

Buck laughed. “Short version is I was struck by lightning a few months ago. My heart stopped for over 3 minutes. Which as you can imagine is a very satisfying subject to a Death Doula.”

“Shit. Are you okay? No long term effects?” Tommy asked with a genuine tone of concern.

“I did have some pretty awesome math skills for a while,” he laughed “but sadly they went away quite quickly. But otherwise I’m totally fine.”

“Good.” He smiled. His smile was absolutely gorgeous, Buck finally admitted to himself. “So, a death doula?”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t date someone I meet on a call.”

“Saving someone’s life and then dating them never turns out the way you expect.” Tommy agreed.

“I learned that lesson third time around.”

“And yet they’re always so grateful!” He joked. “He still watching?” Buck looked over to see Shane still sat at the table watching them, but Eddie, Hen and Karen walking, coats and bags in hand, toward the exit. Eddie caught his eye and winked as they left the bar.

He didn’t tell Tommy they’d left. Something inside him didn’t want to. He was enjoying dancing with Tommy and telling him might end it.

“He’s still watching us intently.” Buck said.

“At this point he might have to catch us screwing in the bathroom.” Tommy said with a chuckle. Bucks face immediately flushed. He knew Tommy was joking but.. Something was twisting in his stomach. It was an unfamiliar and unexpected feeling but it was pleasant. More than pleasant.

“I don’t know about that, but what about this..”

It could have been a moment of madness, or weakness, or some deep rooted part of himself he wasn’t aware of, or hell, maybe the 2 beers he’d drank were laced with something that he wasn’t aware of.. but whatever the reason, without thinking about it, Buck leaned in and pressed his lips against Tommy’s.

Tommy’s breath hitched at the surprise. As Buck pulled his lips away and opened his eyes to Tommy’s looking intently at him, he felt a warm explosion in his chest—one he wasn’t expecting. Then the realisation kicked in at what he’d just done.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have..”

He felt embarrassed. Tommy probably didn’t like him that way, and he wasn’t sure of his own feelings either. Tommy did something to him, that he was sure of, now. Earlier he’d thought it was jealousy over Eddie but now he couldn’t deny the feeling in his chest at sharing a kiss with him. He liked it.

Tommy could see he was having some kind of internal debate and ended it as he placed fingers under Bucks jaw, pulling him in for another kiss. This one was firmer and longer.

Without second guessing it Buck opened his mouth against Tommy’s and deepened the kiss. Buck didn’t know why he was doing it or why he liked it—he would spend the next few days unpacking it and would come to a rather life changing revelation— but standing in the bar with his arms around Tommy, feeling his warm tongue against his, that tasted of the IPA’s he’d been drinking, all he knew was that he wanted it.

Tommy’s hands were travelling up and down his back leaving goosebumps in their wake. Buck was holding on to Tommy’s neck for dear life for fear that if he let go, the kiss would end and this feeling he had that was snaking its away in and around his organs would go away.

“I have to say that was unexpected.” Tommy said when the kiss did eventually end. Buck tilted his head and looked up at him bashfully.

“I think your ex is gone.” Buck said. They both looked around and couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Good.” Tommy said looking at Buck. “So, what are you doing Saturday?”

“Saturday?”

“You free?”

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 2: Good Directions

From: Handiwork Series

Pairing: Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Curtis shows you a couple of his favorite spots around town.

Word count: 2,229

Content/warnings: Kissing, conversation, pet name usage, really not much else, a sprinkle of angst?

Author’s Note: Takes place directly after the last chapter, and then there are a few time skips, so it ends at the same place as YCMBWH ch. 8

All feedback is greatly appreciated. I love hearing back from you, even if it’s a keyboard smash. Thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Cleaning up went relatively fast after Curtis stepped away. After you finished counting the drawer and wiping down the counters finally, you saw him leaning against the wooden frame, chatting with Edgar. As soon as you walked up to them, Edgar bid the two of you goodbye.

“Okay, cheese curd, ready to go?” He laughed as his cheeks flushed a little pink. He nodded, opening up the door for you and leading you out to his truck.

He helped you to hop up into the passenger seat before jogging over to his side to get in. You’ve never seen a man that big move so smoothly. It must be the farming, really. Man, you had wasted your time with those city boys. Once he was settled in and had started the car, he sat there, still for a second, before looking over to you.

“So, Cherry, have a good day at work?” It was as if he had just simply picked you up. Like this was something he’d done before and he planned to do way more in the future. You let out a giggle at his playfulness and nodded.

“Oh yeah, great day. There was this one guy who kept begging for my attention, though. But I guess it was alright, because his friend with the fancy credit card left me a huge tip.”

Curtis teasingly scoffed, but it morphed into a smile to which you returned a wink when he turned his whole body towards you in the bench seat, propping his arm up across the back of it. His body looked so big, taking up the truck cab like that, yet so inviting.

“So where to, Missy? I know a lot about you, but not exactly where you live.”

You nodded. “Oh, right. Yeah, start driving and I’ll direct you.”

You took the opportunity to slide in under his arm before he could to move it, as he shifted back to face forward. As you settled into his side, Curtis kept his eyes forward, but it was impossible to miss the way the corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes sparked as he took a deep breath, still otherwise unmoving for a second.

Curtis moved his arm anyway, just for a second, to shift the truck into gear, then put it right back to where it was around you, squeezing you closer than before and starting his drive.

Curtis insisted on walking you up to your apartment after the short drive, which seemed like no time at all with how easy it was to talk to him. He’d been so kind, and you know Edgar had been just as decent lately, but this seemed different. It seemed like…more.

When you got to the door, you turned around and were met with the view of Curtis with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly slouched forward.

As your eyes met, you could feel the tension in the air, not sure where to go next. Not sure if maybe he felt the same static around the moment as you. Perhaps he was just being nice with everything lately, and that’s how they simply were in small towns, but again, it felt like way more than that. Either way, the easy conversation somehow escaped you now as your eyes shifted between his. Before you could even help it, you blurted out, “Would you just kiss me?”

Your hands gripped the collar of his flannel shirt and Curtis was taken aback by your directness. Hell, you were, too. His brain was screaming out to him. If he would’ve been able to decipher the internal screeching and put it into words, he would’ve said something along the lines of “Of course, I’ve been waiting to since the night I met you,” but instead, the wiring to his mouth must’ve been cut, since all he produced was a, “What?”

You laughed and shook your head at his expression and inability to register your words, before worry began to seep in. “I’d like to think I’m reading this right and was hoping you’d confirm it? Would you ki-“

Curtis’s brain finally caught up from the lag, and he immediately leaned down and smashed his lips against yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were the one wearing the brainless expression, eyes open and owlish at his confirmation of your feelings. You watched as his eyes slowly opened and a goofy smile came onto his face.

“I don’t think you read that wrong at all.” Curtis whispered between small pants.

“I, uh. I’ve got an early morning, but I enjoyed chatting with you tonight. I’d really like to see you again…maybe this coming week? Outside of your work and outside of the shop, you and me could do something?”

You nodded and bit your lip. “Yeah, I’d really like that. I’ll text you my schedule.”

You unclenched your hands from the fabric of his shirt and ran them down his chest. His oh-so-firm chest, before you realized maybe that was too far for tonight. You quickly moved your hands to be busy with something else, fishing for the doorknob behind you. “Good night, Curtis. Thank you for the ride.”

He simply nodded, watching you close the door and listening for the lock before turning on his heel and heading back to his car.

That week, Curtis kept his word. On Tuesday, he knew you had off work, so he surprised you by showing up at your door with a picnic basket in hand, only having given you about an hour of notice in advance, which was just enough time to get dressed and ready.

“Hey. I made us a little something. Wanna go for a ride?”

You nodded and grabbed his outstretched hand, heading out to his truck and hopping up. You could see the blankets in the truck bed already.

You watched the country roads and fields go by until Curtis pulled into a gorgeous meadow. The sun, low in the sky, was casting a reflective glow across the wildflowers and golden grasses.

Curtis put the truck in park and hopped down, reaching for you as you scooted across the bench seat and into his arms, where he helped you down. The calluses on his well-worked hands traced down your arms to grab your hands, sending a tingle through your body, as he led you to the tailgate. He helped you jump up before stepping up, himself, once again more gracefully than you would’ve expected for someone of his stature.

He laid out the blankets before helping you settle in to the laid out picnic.

It was a perfect date. After the meal, which was surprisingly good, you and Curtis just sat there, cuddled up in the corner of the bed, where you were squeezed in between his legs to watch the sunset. The warmth on your face mixed with that of his body behind you was comforting-almost too much.

You began to shift in his hold, the weight of everything kicking in. Maybe this was too much, too fast. You had just gotten here, the last thing you needed was to let yourself get sucked in, even if he was just so kind. Did you even know enough about him yet to say that?

Curtis took note of the change in the tone of the environment and moved around your side to look at you.

“Hey, everything alright?”

Sure, it was. You had been the one mostly pushing for things. You had been the one to kiss him, so why were you suddenly so on edge? You tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat before nodding.

“Uh, yeah. Just, um… this is really nice.”

Maybe the care he was showing was unlike what you were used to. Everywhere you went, it was just…you. But suddenly, someone else cared about what was going on in your life and made an effort to take part in it. You’re cleared your throat and attempted to clear the tears from your eyes before he could see them. You turned away from his knowing gaze and looked out towards the field.

“Everything’s really beautiful. Can you tell me about around here? I just wanna hear you talk.”

Curtis grabbed your hand with both of his, rubbing his thumbs along the back of it. He gave you a reassuring look and just simply a nod, leaning back once more and going through the history of the farm, what all the fields were used for, and the different animals, his deep voice lulling you back to a state of comfort. He told you about the old country store on the one corner, with an old Coca-Cola sign, and how his aunt used to make the best sweet tea. You settled back against his chest easily, taking in the warmth again, losing the sense of false alarm which threatened your enjoyment, and finally accepting the peace you thought you might find here.

After that night and the amount that Curtis opened up to you, seeing him was a much more regular occurrence, especially once you had gotten the call that the part for your truck came in. The repair took longer than anticipated, though, since Curtis had to be careful of the other parts of the engine with them all being so old. The wrong move could result in the necessity of ordering yet another part and essentially having to start the process over again. And as much as he would’ve liked to keep having reasons to talk to you, he wasn’t looking for more ways to dig into your pockets, or better yet, his since unbeknownst to you, he already had decided to comp this whole job.

The long-stretching work resulted in a few late nights of Curtis taking you back to the shop with him so he could show you the progress, teach you more about the other parts of the engine you weren’t as familiar with, and maybe kiss a little bit in the break room after he washed his hands for the day.

Some nights you’d snag him dinner from the bar and he’d drive you back out into the fields, instead, sharing snacks, and conversations, and a view of the unhindered stars that lit up and reflected in his eyes. He was made for here. He matched everything so perfectly, and you matched him.

Every so often, things would switch up, Curtis would sit with his head in your lap looking up at the sky while you told him stories of your travels, what life was like in various cities, and how all the people were different. Those places were never home, though. But this place felt like it, maybe he felt like it.

You ran your fingers through his cropped hair, staring up at the sky when he spoke up between your stories.

“So you remember my cousin? And Bucky?”

You hummed and nodded, tearing your eyes from the sky to look into Curtis’s and moved your hand from the top of his head to scratch through his beard.

“Well Bucky’s only got a few nights left in town, and I know you’ve got a day off coming up. I think we’re gonna have a bonfire. You wanna join?”

You thought for a second. This was essentially Curtis asking you to meet his family. If you hadn’t felt so secure with him, you would’ve hesitated, but there was no question and you’d take any opportunity to be with him and those he considered closest. They were funny from what you remember. Kind, polite, and seemed just as decent as him.

“Sounds good.”

The night of the bonfire was almost like any other time with you and Curtis. Warm, comfortable, enjoyable. Well, at least on your end.

You were sitting with your back up against Curtis, the bonfire smoke struggling to fight off the bugs, as you sensed something was off. Bucky and Bee sitting across from you seemed…sad. Like there was a cloud over their heads despite the wonderful weather lately.

You tried your best to make conversation and keep it. Maybe even avoiding the fact that you thought Bucky was simply a temporary farmhand, but now he seemed more like a boyfriend. Who were you to talk? Curtis was technically your mechanic. Your strong, smart mechanic who if you didn’t know better, you’d say was keeping your car for ransom so he could keep driving you places. Perhaps purposely walking through every repair step twice. That wasn’t the point right now, though, so you tried to talk to Bucky: the one who you’d heard less about.

He’d asked you what you thought of town, and if your time with Curtis was any indication, you loved it. So you asked him, as well. He seemed really locked in, like he wanted to stay forever, despite only being here temporarily as had been explained to you.

“But you’re not sticking around, right? Curtis told me this was one of your last nights in town.”

At that question, the already humid air thickened and you felt Curtis tense up behind you. Oh no, were you not supposed to say something about that? You tried to hold your expression in. Maybe if you didn’t acknowledge the discomfort, no one else would, but you heard Bucky’s quiet answer.

“Yeah.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: Did I write another truck bed date? Yes. And would I do it again? You can bet on it.

Taglist: @angelcavill66 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[beginnerblueglass]

My TØP lore theory…

The whole Tyler/Clancy thing has been melting my brain, but I spent a good three hours in the car today listening to like, three and a half albums, so I had a lot of time for my thoughts to stew.

So we have Tyler, Clancy, Nico, and the Torchbearer. Nico is not Blurryface, Blurryface is Tyler when under Nico’s control. The bishops have the ability to control dead bodies, but there is something special about Tyler, which allows them (or at least Nico) to control him even though he is alive.

We just learned that the Torchbearer has the ability to project himself. I think that Tyler, who we know has escaped Dema, spent time with the Banditos, and been recaptured many times, learned from the Torchbearer how to project himself. He created Clancy, a normal guy who lives under the kindest Bishop, Keons, as a defense mechanism, someone who can’t be controlled by Nico. Clancy eventually gained sentience and became his own person separate from Tyler and unaware that he’s a projection.

Morph is very important to the lore. “If I keep moving they won’t know, I’ll morph to someone else, what they throw at me’s too slow, I’ll morph to someone else, I’m just a ghost… defense mechanism mode.”

Eventually Clancy, who was supposed to be able to have a normal life in Dema, also became enamoured with escaping and joining the Banditos. He escaped, per the early letters, and happened across Tyler in the ravine. This is when the confusion began for him, and he ended up wandering through Trench in a daze until Keons found him and brought him back to Dema.

So here’s where I don’t know if 1) Tyler is dead (at the end of Levitating mv) and the Bishops have captured Clancy in an attempt to bring out Tyler from his subconscious, 2) Tyler and Clancy have somehow merged, or 3) Tyler is not dead, but Nico has decided to keep him completely under his control at all times, so he can’t escape.

At first they kept Clancy in a simulation (Shy Away mv) complete with a fake Josh, but it collapsed when he realized it was fake. Then they tried another simulation (Choker mv), but it didn’t fool him either. After that they kept Clancy drugged, making him write SAI. Keons rescued him from the submarine (Saterday mv), and then he met the Torchbearer’s projection on Voldsøy and learned psychokinesis (The Outside mv).

Clancy is on his own now and is coming into his own as a Bandito, having learned psychokinesis and using this to spread rebellion inside Dema. The one we’ve seen all throughout SAI and Clancy is Clancy, not Tyler, except for the one who performed in the livestream. Clancy was the one sitting on the couch with the hosts, Tyler was the one who put on the show inside Clancy’s head.

I’m interested in finding out how much the Torchbearer knows about the whole situation, and I predict that the person Clancy runs into in the tower at the end of Paladin Strait is going to be Blurryface, ie Tyler being controlled by Nico, which will be very cool.

[totothewolff]

Grand Prix Elite Academy (1/10)

+18 | professor!Toto x reader fem!student, sewis, carlos x reader, collegue au | romance, smut, comedy, gossip, betray

Summary: Your life turns 180 degrees after receiving your acceptance letter for the Grand Prix Elite Academy, the most exclusive and prestigious Formula One College, designed to shape the future drivers of the motorsport world. You will try to navigate your new life among the Monaco elites, survive the campus dynamics and rivalries between the faculties, and try to win this year's Elite Cup to beat an undefeated Mercedes, all while befriending your eclectic classmates, join the wild parties, have a couple of make-outs under the racing circuit benches, lose your v-card and get over that stupid crush you have on professor Toto. Will you make it alive to graduation? Race to Greatness! Author's note: This is a Formula One college AU fic set in an elite academy in Monaco, where the F1 Teams are Faculties, their Team Principals are professors, the FIA is the college board, and all the grid drivers are your classmates. You are accepted under a scholarship program called WomenOne and have lots to catch on to after years of putting your racing dreams on hold. Becoming the outcast new girl is always challenging, especially when all of you live on one campus.

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Chapter 1: Hi, Society

"Everyone who lives in Monaco is filthy rich."

Well, that's a half-lie that people say; the working class also lives there - and the families of the people who work for the rich - just on the outskirts of town near the border with France. 

Yours is one of those: a middle-class family of three (you, dad, and your dog). So, a chunk of your day goes to commuting downtown to attend school and help with the auto parts shop, your family-run business.

You had the misfortune (now you call it that!) to have been raised by a hardcore motorsports madman in what you consider one of the most F1 households of all time in the most F1 city in the world. 

That madman is your dad, a middle-aged man who is apparently good-looking (judging by the attention he gets from female customers; okay, he is in shape; you get that part) but has remained single for the longest time.

He is a hard-working mechanic who invested all his inheritance in opening an automobile repair shop and a twin business, an auto parts and components store located on the same street, which seems logical. 

You are one of those households that loves everything related to cars and motorsports, a trait you inherited in your cells from birth.

Yes, yes, you are a "daddy's girl." It's embarrassing, but he's your hero.

Thanks to him, you were that "weird" little girl at elementary school who could name all the parts of a car's engine and their exact functions. By high school, you could explain the mechanics and physics behind a motor, and you were able to repair and customize cars and motorbikes by your senior years. 

-

Daydreaming was a fundamental part of your childhood and still is, but nowadays, the therapist calls it MaDD or trauma coping. 

Back in the day, you loved sneaking into the driver's seat of any expensive sports car the clients took to the workshop for repair. You imagined it morphing into a racing car as you drove it to high speeds on a race track. 

Of course, you always ended up winning the Grand Prix! And that fantasy lasted until either one of the mechanics or your dad got you out of the unit.

-

By the time you turned eight, your family made an effort to take you karting. It's costly, way more complex than you expected, and also heavy on the body!

You always ended up exhausted after practice or racing, but you didn't care because you were killing the game, impressing people along the way, and winning piles of trophies!

After several years of success, you got sponsored and made it to Formula Renault, where you winning was also a regular thing.

Then, you continued to Formula 4, where you started to succeed, too. By that point, you were utterly invested in your racing career, working hard to make your dream come true and make your parents proud.

But that sad September, your mom got sick. 

-

After her passing, nothing was quite the same, and your racing dreams got buried along with her, leaving you and your dad an emotional and financial wreck, with a lot of debt in the bank due to her treatments.

-

"Time heals everything," 

That's another half-lie people tell. 

You never get over a loss of that kind, but you learn to live your life the best way possible and try to find joy after it.

-

So, as you go through your teen years, you feel as if your life is starting over, as someone else has lived your past.

You choose to help more with the family business after noticing your father is tired and stressed every day and wanting to be there for him.

You take full responsibility for running the auto parts and components store. After school, you go there, and that's where you practically live. 

The shop is in an old part of town; it used to be a cheap neighborhood, but it's not anymore, still not the most luxurious town area, but the location is excellent. 

As the business grew, the shop underwent several remodels - more like improvements - made by your uncle Marco (your late mom's brother), your godfather, who works in construction.

The store is now bright, clean, and organized. It has tall white walls with blue accents (the ones you helped paint), a neat grey polished concrete floor where you can almost watch your reflection, and pendant lights in the ceiling over the aisles full of product racks. Several pennants and large posters give the place character. 

Most of the time, you are behind the long counter with the cashier and computer by the entrance, where you run the stock, attend customer payments, do your homework, and watch Netflix (on slow days).

Next to you is always your dog - with his bed and bowl - and behind you is an entire wall of shelves with premium products.

The store's most recent and exciting acquisition is a new set of automatic slide doors and a large welcoming rug with the business logo. 

God! How boring is your life?!

Still, you are grateful for those; before that, on busy days, you wanted to tear your ears off at the nonstop sound of the bell atop the door.

The store is at the corner of the street, and the large workshop is two buildings away across the road. 

Both are different from your usual mechanic's spots; yes, there is still oil in some parts, but this is Monaco, after all! If you want to attract clients in this city, you must look nice.

Your dad lives and breathes at the workshop. 

Your household is one of those that leaves the family home very early in the morning and returns at night to sleep. 

-

As things get financially healthier again, your dad and godfather work hard to renovate the shop's attic slash old storage space into a tiny apartment for you.

It's a simple but cozy open-floor concept: a one-bedroom with a kitchenette and counter bar for two stools, a sitting area with a bulky love seat and a TV.

Your desk is next to the bay window facing the street, which offers a sky view, making this your favorite spot to study. 

A queen-size bed with a nightstand completes the space, along with the door leading to the world's tiniest bathroom. 

You love this rabbit hole so much. 

Your dad and godfather allowed you to choose the style of decor and furniture (you went for minimal and boho), and now you love this place more than your actual home (a more spacious two-and-a-half-bedroom apartment with a small balcony nearer the mountains).

-

As you grow older and reach legal age, you start doing everything at the shop by yourself, saving the money spent on extra hands. 

From cleaning to stock control, acting like a sales lady and the store influencer, posting social media content, updating the website once you convinced your dad to sell online, and taking care of your dog, now the business mascot.

People love him! He always gets pats on the head from customers, and some return just for him. He is a lazy old basset hound named "Diesel."

You must ensure that Diesel wears his bandana with the shop's logo daily, as it is his official employee uniform. He is your childhood dog, and the idea of losing him makes you anxious.

-

By this point in your life, you speak fluent "mechanic" which should be considered an entire language, thanks to growing up surrounded by them.

Depending on the photo, you may smile or laugh when you open your childhood photo albums. 

There are many pictures from your birthday parties held at the workshop. In them, you appear surrounded by alpha males with tattoos, beards, and muscles wearing girly birthday props as you blow the candles off a Barbie-inspired cake or whatever was trendy with girls back then, with the entire place usually decorated in glittery pink party decor. 

That's your life in a nutshell.

-

Nowadays, since you are a full-grown woman in their eyes, they act overprotective of you, especially when a boy your age tries to flirt with you while buying something with their parent's credit card. 

But they get it so wrong! You don't recall when or how, but you started to get attracted to men, not boys, older men. 

That middle-aged group of guys that make you beg, "Please run me over with your sports car," as you stare at them driving as they pass across the store's big windows facing the street. 

You love the roaring sound of the engine, but you love the view of the handsome man driving it even more. 

Still, it's just a fantasy; those guys are completely out of your league, and well, you haven't had a social life, not even a suitor in all these years, and you have never had a boyfriend. Maybe it's your shy nature or your looks that you feel so insecure about.

-

In the last couple of days before graduation, many universities show up to promote their college programs in a sort of Open Day. 

You avoid the Grand Prix Elite Academy people like they have the plague, knowing that's a dream you can't afford. 

And they know it, too! 

You can tell by the look the extremely hot model-looking Student Affairs ladies give you when you succumb to the temptation to get closer to their stand.

You nervously step in front of them without saying a word and leave after they rudely and unwantedly hand you a brochure with all the information about the program, tuition, and more.

They both look annoyed at their employers for making them attend a school without potential clients.

-

You remove your shoes and drop your backpack on the floor when you arrive at your loft. As you get cozy on the bulky, puffy couch, you muster the courage to read the brochure.

"Grand Prix Elite Academy is the ultimate path to success in the world of motorsports.

Our program is an exclusive Formula One college degree designed for aspiring drivers who dream of pursuing a career in professional racing. 

This program offers unparalleled training and mentorship from seasoned professionals, personalized coaching from world-class racing experts, access to state-of-the-art facilities and cutting-edge simulators, and networking opportunities with industry leaders. 

This degree aims to cultivate the skills and mindsets of future champions. It's the ultimate platform for developing the aptitudes, knowledge, and connections necessary to reach the pinnacle of motorsports.

Drive to Greatness. Race with us."

After reading the entire brochure a hundred times and eyeing all the pictures, subjects, and prices attached, you can't help but cry until you fall asleep.

-

After several texts to your number, getting no reply, and two missed phone calls, your dad goes up to the shop's loft to look for you, now worried. 

The day is over, and you two should head home soon to avoid traffic. He always texts you when it's time to leave, and you rush down to the shop's exit to get in the car.

As he approaches the sofa to wake you up, he notices the GPEA brochure on the floor next to you and places it inside his leather satchel. 

He doesn't mention anything to you about it at dinner or later.

-

The summer break begins, and soon, you will become a college freshman. 

You applied for several engineering college programs within your budget, in town, or nearby. 

You still want to work at Formula One, and if you can't get a driver's seat, you aim for a team's chair.

-

You have been nervous the entire week, knowing the acceptance letters will soon arrive. You are crossing your fingers they aren't rejection ones. 

You get accepted in three out of four!

A part of you expected a positive outcome since you have always been a nerd with good grades; plus, you felt you scored the admission tests and nailed the interviews.

However, when the postman appears at the store again, you look at him perplexed as he hands you a fancy and unexpected additional envelope. 

It's good your dad is having lunch with you at the counter at that exact moment to clarify your doubts.

—What is this?! —your voice goes all high as you walk fast and nervously to him, showing him the Grand Prix Elite Academy logo stamp on the envelope.

—Listen, don't get mad at me —your dad puts down the fork and stops eating for a moment to face you. —Wait to get your hopes up high yet —He starts to calm you down, noticing how you are hyperventilating now. —Read it first.

—WHAT?!!

—Y/N, breathe, easy...

You tear the envelope with shaky hands and quickly scan the letter's content.

—AH! —a funny scream comes out of your mouth, and you look at your dad with wide eyes before pushing him into a tight hug, a bit brusquely. —I GOT IN! I GOT THIS YEAR'S SCHOLARSHIP!! —you fucking can't believe it. —BUT HOW!?!!

—I applied for you, well, I pretended to be you; I disliked being an annoying girl —he rolls his eyes at you, joking. —After that, I sent the board an email explaining our situation; as your father now obviously —he looks a bit embarrassed at his confession. —It's good that I documented your entire and promising racing career. I know how important this is for you. I'm sorry that we cannot afford it on our own. I know you have the talent and deserve that scholarship more than anyone! Thank God they went all charity on your ass!

You laugh, and happy tears run down your face. Your dad hasn't seen you this happy, not since mom...

—OH GOD!

—What?! —your dad's heart skips at your words.

—It says I must register ASAP for the virtual classroom since I didn't attend the in-person summer program. Jesus! I just got in, and I'm already behind! —you rush to the computer, and before logging in, you say: —Dad, I love you; you have nothing to apologize for!

-

As the countdown to the start of the academic year goes on, your nervousness levels increase. 

You get more hysteric each day, and your dad already regrets his actions.

Billions of thoughts cross your mind daily: What if they don't like me? What if I end up failing? Am I good enough? What I'm going to wear? This attire list is so pretentious. What's a smart-casual look? I don't own any gowns! 

OH GOD!

-

A heavy box arrives at the shop by mail. 

It's your welcome package to the academy. Inside, you find a gorgeous and expensive-looking varsity jacket, the college's cashmere sweater, and many more branded items. 

It also contains an extensive list of things you need to do before the start of the year, instructions for your first day, and a textbook of rules. 

Your scholarship sponsor is WomanOne, which supports girls around the globe in completing their college degrees. 

You feel so empowered that you swear to do your best and conquer the game! 

Your grades and performance are crucial for them, so you must win the most Elite Cup races you can.

-

Two days later, another envelope arrives; this time is an invitation for the Homecoming Gala; the paper feels fancy as fuck! 

The event is scheduled two nights before the start of the course, and it's mandatory, which you find hilarious. 

You have never been obliged to attend a fancy party before.

-

A few days later, a push notification informs you you have two new DMs on the GPEA app (the official college app they requested you to download and register on). 

After filling out and completing the procedures to set up your profile for the driver's market, the Ferrari and Aston Martin principals want to interview you on the virtual platform since you now appear available to be picked or to apply for a faculty slot.

Shit is getting real!

-

—She looks too sweet for this brutal land; I hope she survives here —Lewis says as he leans closer to peek at Sebastian's iMac screen. 

They volunteered at the Student Affairs Department this year to obtain the mandatory extra credits. Well, Sebastian applied for the job and dragged Lewis along, as usual. 

As they both look at the student picture you upload on the platform; then, Seb starts to copy out your data to print your access badge.

—Is she on the market yet? 

—Yes. All the faculty principals have received her profile, but so far, only Ferrari and Aston have booked an interview with her. She applied to join the McLaren faculty, though.

—Interesting. So, no words from Zack?

—Not yet. You know how it is, my dear scholarship king. Y/N looks really promising. Are you feeling nervous about it? Now someone wants to take the full scholarship prodigy title away from you —Seb teases.

—By this rookie, you wish! —Lewis tenderly slaps Sebastian's face, a bit sexual still. —Everyone is after my titles anyway, as well as my sexy good looks. Are you feeling nervous about it?

—You wish! She doesn't have what I give you —it's Seb's turn to state; that light touch was enough to turn him on.

—Oh, please, could you remind me what you give me? —Lewis teases, a bit aroused.

—Oh, I can show you —Seb gets dangerously close to him, slowly pushing him against the office desk.

-

You are so grateful the full scholarship covers the on-campus living fee and secures you a dorm room. 

The GPEA is so far from your house that commuting there would be a nightmare. Thanks, Google Maps, for the info! 

Now you know you have to leave tomorrow with time to spare to be on time for the Homecoming Gala. 

That night, you struggle to fall asleep. It's the anxiety about tomorrow's party. You pray to God that somehow you fit in.

-

As the moonlight dances upon the glistening waters of Monaco's coastline, the college's luxury campus emerges with opulence. 

Tonight, the GPEA is hosting the most glamorous Gala to mark the commencement of a new school year; to your eyes, it's a scene of total excess and splendor. 

Nothing as you have seen before!

Party lights dance and illuminate the facades of the campus buildings, casting vibrant and cool designs on the walls.

The garden's magnificent palm trees sway gently under the warm Mediterranean breeze, their leaves aglow with the enchanting hues of the illuminations. 

The campus's modern architecture, a seamless blend of money and elegance, looks like an oasis adorned with meticulously manicured gardens, flowers, and fountains. 

The soft sound of water cascading brings a sense of tranquility amidst the muffled DJ's set music coming out of the celebration. 

As you are about to reach the building entrance, you notice the long parade of the most luxurious cars, gracefully chauffeuring guests who descend with elegance, sporting breathtaking gowns from renowned designers and dapper men wearing impeccably tailored tuxedo suits. 

-

This homecoming Gala looks straight out of Gossip Girl. 

As you step onto the red carpet, you can feel the electric buzz, radiating a contagious energy that sets the exhilarating tone for the party. 

It looks like it is going to be a wild night.

And you are correct. The clinking glasses of champagne get louder as the evening progresses, and the party ensues.

The crowd consists of beautiful, fit, and effortlessly stylish students exuding an air of confidence and superiority. 

Despite your striking look in a fancy dress, you can't shake the feeling of being an outsider among the elite.

-

As you move around in the ballroom with a glass in hand, you notice a figure that stands out: Toto Wolff, wearing an impeccably Brioni tuxedo and exuding charm and charisma. 

His striking features, towering height, and muscular body immediately command your attention. Your gaze draws towards him, entirely captivated by his physical features and confident presence among the sea of people. 

You can't help but stare at him; he is pure eye candy. 

"So, this is what genuine attraction feels like?" you think.

You go all red when you notice a stunning set of clear eyes are watching you, lusting for Toto.

—No worries. It's the usual reaction Toto gets. We've all been there, I guess. I'm Leandra de Vries! I'm a Ferrari somophore —a stunning, lean girl with legs for days and perfect hair greets you. 

Wow, that's having a face card! Her nose is to die for, and Jesus, those eyes! She looks tan, and her "gold" skin is silky and shiny. 

"I need to moisturize!" you think instantly, comparing yourself.

—I'm Y/N Y/LN —you quickly add. —That's a beautiful dress, Leandra!

—It's vintage Dior; they don't make them like this anymore —she shows you her breathtaking embroidered gown, extending her long, athletic leg. —You look good, even with that thing you are wearing! No offense; you better get used to these kinds of comments. Let's say this place requires thick skin; my advice: never take it personally.

—Oh, thanks, I guess?! —you both laugh.

—Is it from Zara? —Leandra comes closer to whisper to your ear, curious and disgusted at the time, but with comedic timing.

—Yes! —you answer, holding a giggle.

—Oh god! Please remind me to get you in my wardrobe; I have a couple of pieces you so desperately need —she smiles at you and intertwines her right arm with yours.

—Please! —you beg and smile at her.

—Let's walk around! —she invites you.

So far, you like Leandra. Although she may look like a mean girl, she is well-intended, empathic, and honest. She doesn't hold back, and that's your type of person.

She tells you she got transferred here from the Italy campus the year before - after her older brother passed away in that polemic crash at Monza, and because her parents wanted to start fresh, trying to run from what happened - she states it was tough for her to settle in and be accepted here. 

She also explains that the social circles here are very airtight, so she wants you to experience something other than what she went through.

—This place loves gossip, and you are the talk of the moment, "the charity baby who got the Lewis scholarship" —Leandra lets out like it was a bother, almost rolling her eyes while walking you to the bar area.

-

—So that's the new "Charity Baby"? She's cute!

—Where!? —Lando pops his head behind Oscar after his comment.

—There, with Leandra —he points.

—How does that woman get even hotter each year?! Fuck, she looks so fuckable in that dress! —Lando undresses Lea with his eyes.

—Getting an erection this early on? That's a new record for you —Max jokes, staring at him.

Leandra starts to lead you both in their direction. The group is gathered around the large velvet sofa in the fancy sitting area near the bar. 

When you two arrive at their side, you overhear George leading the conversation.

—She is still out of your league, mate —George mocks him. —But how did it go with Arabella?

—Oh, she was delicious; I fucked her in the gym's pool. Her ass feels terrific! —Lando lets them know the gossip.

—Arabella is the blonde with the great tits? —Max inquires.

—No, no, that's the Mercedes girl, the one I fucked in the library.

—And you also fucked the librarian.

—And the trainer's assistant.

—And the Human Resources lady.

Everyone keeps adding.

—Better be getting ready for Lando's disappointing dick game —Carlos jokes with you as soon as he notices you standing there in complete silence and addressing you for the first time.

Everyone turns their head towards you.

You go all red.

—I mean, if you want, I'm available tonight —Lando shoots his shot, shamelessly flirting with you and reaching for your hand.

—And welcome! —Sebastian jokes from a distance, comfy wrapped in Lewis's arms on the sofa.

—Lando, you fuck everything that breathes —Yuki states impressed.

—It's cus' I got dick game, to Carlos' jealousy.

Out of nowhere, you notice Lance standing right to your left. —I heard you are working class and got here under a full scholarship like Lewis did. Is that true?! —Lance inquires, curious and with a sweet voice, but his wording is not the best.

—Yes, I'm from a middle-class family —you shyly reply. —We own a car repair workshop, and I work there.

Lance's face looks amazed. Sebastian notices his and your expressions and doesn't waste time.

—Lance, you can't ask people that! You know some people work for a living? God, you are so out of touch! Excuse him —Seb joins in.

—Yeah, unlike you, the people's people —Lewis mocks Seb, pointing at him and roughly combing his hair, then Lewis gives you a "these guys" face and winks at you. —They don't mean it —Lewis lets you know. —Welcome, welcome! I'm L-

—Lewis Hamilton, yes, I know, you are a legend —you look at him in awe.

He is the only one who gets it, who gets you. 

He is as rare as you. His family famously worked their butts off to get him here before he got offered a full scholarship like yours and became the scholarship program and the GPEA prodigy. 

No one has won more trophies and cups in the history of the college than him.

Mercedes already hired him as their reserve driver and offered him a contract as the future of their F1 racing team, the most expensive deal ever for a rookie. They are just waiting for Michael to retire.

-

After lots of chatting, dancing, joking around, and getting to know a bit of everyone in that little group, Principal Zack reaches you. —Miss, Y/LN. Can we have a word, please?

—Of course! —you interrupt your conversation with Oscar and go to him.

After walking around and casually chitchatting a bit, he informs you: —I appreciate your request to join our faculty, but unfortunately, it's impossible for us now. We noticed your career resume has a long hiatus, which puts you behind our other candidates. However, we will closely watch your performance this year, and maybe you can ask again next year —Zack politely kills your dream to drive for them momentaneously. —You have a promising future, you are talented, and I wish you the best.

—Oh, bummer! But I understand, sir. I will do my very best!

You make it back to the group, but since they love to dish, they all were observing the scene from afar and interpreting your expressions, betting their money wasn't good.

—And? —Yuki asks.

—Not McLaren.

—I'm sorry, it's their loss! —Mick comforts you. By far, he is the most kind and polite of the bunch. It must be tough to grow up under his dad's shadow; maybe that's why he is so empathic with the outcasts.

—I haven't heard from Aston or Ferarri after my interviews either —you look slightly concerned now.

—Give it a time —Seb reassures you.

—Oh god, it's too early to endure a Masi speech. No one is drunk enough yet! —Lewis cuts the chat, looking straight at the man getting up on the fancy and tech stage, lit out under professional lightning; a massive state-of-the-art Samsung screen is behind him, showcasing the academy and its sponsor's logos.

—Does anyone feel like powdering their nose in the bathroom before the speech begins? —Carlos offers.

—Count me on, babe! Do you want to join us? Being high as a kite is the best way to enjoy this party —Leandra addresses you.

—Oh! No, no, thank you —you quickly deny with your arms.

—Hey, don't go hard! I brought mushrooms for all of us later —Max adds, and they nod in sync.

Okay, this is going nothing like you expected.

-

"Good night, esteemed faculty, staff, and enthusiastic students. As the Dean, I am honored to address you at the start of this new academic year at the Grand Prix Elite Academy. We are here united by a shared passion for speed, engineering, and the excitement of Formula One racing. 

Our college stands as a unique institution dedicated to preparing the next generation of brilliant minds and innovative professionals in the motorsport industry.

This academic year holds incredible opportunities for growth, learning, and discovery, and I encourage each and every one of you to embrace the challenges, cultivate your skills, and push the boundaries of knowledge in this exhilarating field. 

Let us fuel our enthusiasm, collaborate synergistically, and pave the way to new frontiers of excellence together. I extend a warm welcome to all and look forward to an extraordinary year ahead. 

Thank you."

A lazy round of applause comes from the crowd, but minutes before that, about the middle of the speech, Leandra stands by your side. —Do you want to know all the tea about Toto? —noticing how your eyes went all over him once more. 

He is up on the stage with all the principals from the different faculties. It's nothing new, but you are experiencing it for the first time.

—Well —you hesitate. —Yes.

—He has remained single for a while now, more like fucking around, actually. Toto has a type: blond bombshells, the supermodel type, you know, with insane bodies. I'm friends with two of his conquests, and one told me he fucks like a bull. He likes it hard and rough, and the other let me know he has a delicious fat cock but that he hits it and quits it; he left her begging for more.

You blush at her words, which she instantly notices, before continuing: —Last I witnessed with my own gorgeous eyes, Toto was hooking up with Anitta at that fancy Ferrari's anniversary party; she was all over him; it was a great party, we all got smashed! I ended up cowgirling Dani on the back of his car, oops. 

You hit playfully Leandra in the ribs with your elbow while looking at Ricciardo standing meters away. —Daniel is hot!

—And a moron! Ah, right! Toto went through a very public divorce about a year ago; it was the talk of the town. The Wolff's splitting, OH! The elites went wild! His ex-wife is a counselor here, so you will see her around; they have a weird relationship. I think they still fuck.

Okay, this is a lot of information, but one thing is sure: you are different from his type. 

—By the way, he's a very demanding professor and one of the very best. His subjects are challenging to get accepted into, and it is hard to obtain good grades in them, but if you achieve them, you gain a lot of respect; he has an eye for talent, so think twice before choosing him. Many girls try to add his class to their schedules to get closer to him, but it never ends well. He is a dream crusher. Do you want me to introduce you to him? I'm one of his favorite students.

—Oh, no, no —you get all nervous. Leandra laughs at your answer and how you go full panic within seconds.

—So you are the type who only likes to stare? —she mocks you. You softly push her, joking around.

Oh, yes, and he looks so fine! That suit is tight in all the right places!

-

The party gets better and wilder as the night progresses, and the alcohol takes a toll on your systems. 

People are dancing around to DJ Lando's sensual set and hooking up everywhere; the lights are dim, and neon lasers pulsate to the beats. 

Bodies move in sync with the rhythm as you all gather on the packed dance floor. Max offers the mushrooms around, and a "Fuck it! I deserve to feel alive!" feeling overpowers you, and you join them as they cheer you in, feeling now more like part of the pack!

Amidst the blur of Carlos's body dancing around you - he became your companion for the night - you start feeling everything on your skin: the energy, passion, and thrill. 

You can feel your pupils dilating and his firm chest under your hands. Your vision gets distorted, and a tall man with dark hair and intense eyes forms in front of you, and you fight that urge to slide your hands down.

You needed so bad this tempting display of youthful freedom and uninhibited release, begging for your inhibitions to fade temporarily after years of sadness and solitude.

You can't wait for the course to start and for this new chapter in your life to begin. 

Please don't let it just be a fantasy! To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 6: THE MONSTER

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: Thank you for your patience! I know it's been almost a month since I last updated. Life has been busy for me lately and I wrote this with a sinus infection :( This part is very much internal dialogue and Diana trying to make sense of everything and figure out what's going on.

Warnings: Panic attacks. Blood.

Word Count: 2449

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III ||

Saturday, November 12, 1983 - THE WOODS

The drive back was quiet. Nancy and I held hands the entire way. I stared out the window but couldn’t make out what I was seeing. The houses, trees and cars all morphed into one big blur. My mind races thinking about the other place? I don’t know. The woods looked exactly like the one I crawled out of, but felt…cold and…dead. As if nothing else lived there apart from that thing. No wonder it snatched the deer from our side to eat. I know one thing for certain; I will not be eating meat for a long time after that experience. I cringe thinking about the sound of its teeth tearing into warm flesh, rivulets of blood pouring down its body onto the dead grass below. The way it twisted its body around opening its mouth like petals of a blooming flower. All its sharp teeth lined its mouth spiralling to the centre. I inhale feeling the same pressure in my chest build and expand. I squeeze my eyes shut feeling my tears fall down my cheeks. 

Breathe, Diana. Breathe. It’s going to be okay. You’re okay. 

Nancy squeezes my hand and I look at her. She blinks, blue eyes filled with worry. The balloon in my chest deflates little by little. I don’t notice I am trembling until I stop. I sniff, leaning my head on her shoulder squeezing her hand back. From the rear-view mirror, I notice Jonathan looking at us to make sure we are okay. I look back at him in silence thanks. The argument in the woods is far behind us; it doesn’t matter anymore after what happened. The reality is Nancy and I almost died. I was close to being trapped inside that weird place with that thing. The thought unsettles me to say the least and my mind thinks of all the worse-case scenarios all ending in my death and never being found. I think about Barb and Will. How are they surviving? 

SINCLAIR RESIDENCE

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay, Diana?” 

I don’t know when I asked Jonathan to drive me home or if I even did. I feel mechanic stepping outside the car, closing the door behind me. My body doesn’t feel like mine anymore. 

“Yes.” I mumble. My voice sounds unfamiliar to my own ears. I walk toward my house feeling like I am a puppet being controlled by a ventriloquist. 

I feel a hand on my shoulder and whip my body around, arms flailing as I stumble onto my front lawn. The hand grabs me, pulling me back roughly and I collide into something hard. I immediately close my eyes, feeling fresh tears fall down my cheeks. My body trembles violently as the high-pitched screeching sound of the monster echoes in my ears. 

“Diana!” I hear a voice say, it sounds distant yet close. “It’s just me, Jonathan. It’s just me.” I blink my eyes open staring into his dark brown eyes. They are wide, darting back and forth with worry. “Breathe. It’s going to be okay. You’re okay.” 

Jonathan breathes in and out nodding his head, urging me to follow. I breathe in and out feeling the balloon in my chest slowly deflate. When my body stops trembling, Jonathan eases his grip on my arms. 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” 

I lick my dry lips, nodding my head. I want to be alone even though I don’t want to be alone. But I just needed to be alone. Jonathan squeezes my arms when I pull away, still unsure and worried about me. The corners of my lips pull up as I force myself to smile. 

“I’m fine—I’ll be fine.” I correct myself, though I’m not so sure. 

Jonathan stares at me. I can tell he’s debating on leaving me alone or not. Finally, he releases my arms. “I’ll walk you to your door, okay.” 

I don’t respond walking toward my front door. I fidget for my keys surprised to find they are still in my denim jacket pocket. Taking them out to put in the keyhole, my hands begin to tremble and I pause breathing in and out. Jonathan takes the keys out my hand and pushes it through the keyhole, opening my front door. 

I take a step inside feeling an overwhelming urge. I quickly turn around, reaching up to wrap my arms around Jonathan’s neck. The force of my action causes him to stumble back, but he immediately embraces me. 

“Thank you.” I whimper, feeling a knot form in my throat. If Jonathan didn’t pull me out the tree, I’d be stuck on the other side. He saved me from my death and I’ll forever be grateful. Jonathan doesn’t say anything. Only squeezes me tighter. We both pull away and I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Jonathan nods his head before turning back to his car. I don’t close the door until he is safe inside with Nancy. I am thankful my house is dark and quiet. I’d hate to have to walk past anyone in my family in this state and succumb to all the questions and concerns they’ll have. I take off my shoes in the mud room holding them in my hands and shuffle down the foyer, past the living room to the kitchen grabbing a garbage bag from the cupboard. 

I creep up the stairs, bolting straight to the bathroom. I am about to close the door when I hear my name. I freeze, clenching my eyes shut. Shoot. 

“Diana?” Mom says. 

I flick on the light, pulling the elastic out my hair and shake my head letting it fall down my shoulders before peering around the door careful not to expose the state of unrest I’m in. 

“Yes, mom?” I blink innocently at her. 

“Where have you been?” she frowns, fixing her bathrobe. 

“I was out with Nancy and Jonathan.” 

Mom's frown deepens as she gives me a once over. With my hair down and the door covering my body she can’t see how filthy I am. Though sometimes I think her stare can see through anything. 

“Doing what? Do you know what time it is?” 

“Nancy and I were at the Byers house, keeping Jonathan company. I completely lost track of time.” I surprise myself with how easy the lies flow from my lips. I can’t very well tell her what I’ve been up to and what I’ve seen. Mom wouldn’t believe me or worse, she would and then what?

Mom’s stare almost penetrates my wall of lies. Almost. The lines between her eyebrows smoothen and I try not to visibly relax in case she grows suspicious. 

“That’s so kind of you, Diana. I worry about him a lot. It’s nice to know he has you and Nancy around.” I agree, nodding my head. Mom tilts her head to the side touching the door. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” I press my hand firmly against the door. 

“Yes, I’m fine!” I respond quickly. “Tired is all. It’s been a very emotionally challenging day.” 

“Yes, it has. I worry about your brother—I worry about all of you kids.” Sadness lingers in her eyes. Mom sighs gathering herself together. “I’ll leave you to it. Next time please leave a note so I know where you’re going. There are too many people disappearing in Hawkins.” 

“I will. I promise.” I try my best to smile without it looking forced. It’s enough to pacify my Mom as she smiles back before walking back to her room. 

I close the door behind me, leaning heavily against it, using it as a crutch to support my fatigued body. My muscles ache with a deep persistent soreness, every fibre protesting against the demand of continued exertion. My mind is clouded with fog and it’s thick and heavy. I shiver feeling a chill take over my body. Fluffy spores fall silently like snow upon the decaying forest. I hear a sickening crunch followed by aggressive chewing and turn around to see the monster eating the deer. It stops, perking up from its spot hunched over the animal. Suddenly it snaps around opening its petal-like mouth wide in bloom and lets out a bone-chilling screech lunging forward toward me. 

I gasp clinging to the counter for support. My eyes snap open and I am startled by my reflection in the mirror. I look as terrible as I feel. My hair is matted with dry slime and goop. My clothes are filthy and covered in the same slime with the addition of dirt and mud. Underneath my eyes are puffy and swollen from crying. My skin  looks dry and my lips are chapped. 

I immediately take off my backpack and clothes shoving the soiled clothing in the trash bag. I don’t know if the residue on my clothes are infectious or not or if the scent of the other dimension will attract the monster, so in order to not put myself and my family in danger, everything is going in the trash. If I could burn them, I would. Anything to erase what happened. 

My skin feels raw as I scrub my body for the third time. Anytime I think I’m done in the shower I see another speck of spore or slime and I am back to scrubbing my body and washing my hair. Flashes of my time in the other dimension, penetrate my mind. I felt the way the vines moved under me and wince, squeezing my eyes shut. Breathe, Diana. Breathe. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I’m safe at home in my shower. Nothing can get me here. How could you be so sure? The voice in my head asks. I shiver, scrubbing my body harder. I’m not sure at all. 

The makeshift towel turban concealing my damp hair loosens dropping onto my shoulders as I cautiously approach my room. I flick on my bedroom light, my eyes darting around every corner for anything out of the ordinary. It’s comical how uneasy I feel in the safest place. Shoving the trash bag at the farthest corner of my room, along with my backpack, I pad across my plushy carpet toward my window to lock it, triple checking the lock for peace in mind and draw my curtains. 

I feel jittery pacing back and forth in my room. I am hyper aware of my surroundings. The lights are too bright, but I refuse to be in the dark. My pyjamas brush against my skin and I feel like I’m chafing, but I know it’s because I scrubbed my skin raw. The silence is too loud, but I can’t put on music or else I won’t be able to hear any suspicious activity. 

I fight against a wave of drowsiness that threatens to engulf me, my eyelids fluttering in a constant battle to stay awake. I can’t sleep knowing that the monster, that thing, is out there. The way it grabbed the wounded deer from the other side to eat. I wring out my hands as nausea begins to creep up my throat at the thought of the monster tearing into the deer’s flesh. It was so easy for the monster to grab the deer from the other side. Hawkins is a small town outside Indianapolis surrounded by forests and many people walk in and out it. Mom said too many people have been disappearing…how many people have been reported missing in the past week excluding Will and Barb?

After my near-death experience, I can firmly deduce the monster took Barb and Will and in Will’s case he was on his way home, but for Barb…she was at Steve’s house. I shiver. We all were. Running my fingers through my hair, I sit down on my bed frowning. There has to be a common denominator. I know the attacks are in close radius of each other: the Byers and the Harringtons. Over the train tracks the area is mostly dense forests. Will was on his way home riding through the shortcut Lucas called…what did he call it? Mirkwood! Where Cornwallis and Kerley meet. Steve also lives on Cornwallis and Kerley. 

But why would the monster attack Barb? 

In the photos Jonathan took, Barb was sitting on the diving board by herself. I think back to last year in biology class when I learned about Predation. Predators form a foraging cycle when pursuing prey: Search. Assess. Capture. Handling. There are different ways predators can capture a prey, by ambushing, pursuit and ballistic interception. In the photo Jonathan developed back at school, the monster was standing behind Barb…assessing. 

I rub my temples tiredly. Something had to draw the monster to Barb. I look at my hands, examining my nails to assess if I missed any dirt or slime under them and it came at me all at once. Blood. Barb’s finger was bleeding. The deer in the forest was bleeding out. 

I perk up rushing to my closet. On the top shelf I kept all my old school papers and notes in a filing bin. After a few minutes of struggle, the bin is down on my carpet and I am shuffling through files. The monster must have a strong sense of smell for blood and it would explain how easy it was for it to grab the deer. It would also explain how Barb vanished into thin air. 

I squeal in excitement when I find what I’m looking for. My notes on Predation. I wrote, animals forage in solidarity or in groups. When resources are abundant, animals may choose to forage on their own. This can occur when the habitat is rich or number of foragers are few. I skim down further and read the following: 

To understand Solitary Foraging scientists use the theory called: Optimal Foraging Theory. The theory was proposed in 1966. It argues that because an individual’s survival is determined by success of foraging, one can predict foraging behaviour by using decision theory to determine the behaviour that an “optimal forager” would exhibit. 

I sit with this information for a moment. I don’t know how many people have been reported missing but it’s fair to guess it’s more than five people including Will and Barb. Which means the monster has been successful in its hunt and will hunt again. It’s a question of when it will hunt...and how can we make it hunt us. 

Blood. 

The predator will become the prey. Jonathan, Nancy and I will need to lure the monster to us, trap it and then we’ll kill it once and for all. 

NEXT -> PART III

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

[thegatesofsilverandbone]

Jake was an ordinary young man, a college student with an affinity for video games and a part-time job at a local car repair shop. The job wasn't glamorous, but it helped pay the bills and allowed him to tinker with machines, something he secretly enjoyed.

One hot summer afternoon, Jake was tasked with changing the oil on an old, beat-up Honda. As he worked, he noticed a peculiar, iridescent motor oil on a shelf in the back. It shimmered with a strange glow, unlike any oil he'd seen before. Curious, he grabbed the bottle and brought it closer to inspect it.

"What's this stuff?" he muttered to himself, unscrewing the cap. As he did, the oil bubbled up and splashed out, spilling all over his hands and clothes. He cursed under his breath, trying to wipe it off with a rag, but the oil seemed to soak into his skin, disappearing entirely.

Suddenly, Jake felt a strange warmth spreading through his body. His hands tingled, and he watched in awe as the pale skin on his arms began to darken, becoming a rich, warm brown. His fingers thickened, calluses forming as if he had been working with his hands for years. Panic set in as the transformation spread across his body.

His muscles grew, bulging under his clothes, which were now tight and uncomfortable. He tore off his shirt, revealing a chest and torso covered in thick, dark hair. His face itched as a full beard sprouted almost instantaneously, and his hair turned jet black, curling slightly. Jake's features morphed, his nose broadening, lips becoming fuller, and his eyes taking on a deeper, more intense look.

He stumbled back, tripping over a box of engine parts, and caught his reflection in a dusty mirror propped up against the wall. The face staring back at him was entirely different—a strong, handsome Arabic man, bearing a striking resemblance to the mechanic he had seen earlier that day.

As Jake struggled to comprehend what had happened, memories flooded his mind—memories that weren't his own. He remembered growing up in a bustling Middle Eastern city, learning the trade of a mechanic from his father, and moving to the United States to open his own shop. He recalled years of hard work, the smell of motor oil, and the satisfaction of fixing a broken engine.

Realization dawned on him. Somehow, the magical oil had transformed him into someone else, merging their lives and experiences with his own. He felt a strange sense of acceptance, as if this new identity was a part of him all along.

Just then, the shop door creaked open, and a regular customer walked in. "Hey, Samir! Got time to look at my car today?" the man called out.

Jake—now Samir—nodded, a confident smile spreading across his face. "Of course, just give me a minute," he replied, his voice deep and rich.

As he got to work, the old life of Jake faded into the background, replaced by the skilled hands and experienced mind of Samir, the mechanic. The transformation was complete, and with it came a new beginning, one he was ready to embrace fully.

[munsonfamilyband]

I feel like Eddie collects knives after the upside down stuff. It starts as a coping mechanism. When Steve sees them for the first time Eddie panics because he doesn’t want Steve to think he’s crazy (he doesn’t like to think about why he cares so much about Steve’s opinion of him, he knows why but he pretends that he doesn’t). Steve, instead of laughing or telling him he’s insane, just smiles and says he did something similar after the first time. Steve tells him about the bat he essentially stole from Jonathan in 1983 and then recreated so that he could keep one in his car and another in his room, then he made more to hide around his house after 1984 because he felt the need to constantly have a weapon on him. It helps Eddie a lot, being told that he’s not crazy but he’s just dealing with trauma like someone else did.

Later, after a few months, he moves most of the practical ones into a box and starts collecting cool ones. He gets a few switch blades with fun handles, starts finding knives with decorated hilts or engraved blades, even finds a few with colored metal. The obsession only gets worse when he finds out, months after the fact, that Hopper used a real life sword to kill a demogorgon in Russia. The knives change then, getting longer and slowly morphing into swords. By then he has to make something to display them all because there’s too many to have them cluttering his room. He and Wayne aren’t living together anymore so he has a little more space to himself and Eddie decides to replicate Wayne’s Hat Wall but with his knives and swords. The kids think it’s the coolest thing ever when they see it for the first time. Steve is… less enthusiastic, but mostly because he’s worried about the kids being around so many sharp things. He spends a solid minute complaining about Dustin especially, and whenever the kid tries to argue Steve just brings up something called Dart and he shuts up. (By this point Eddie has come to grips with the fact that he’s head over heels for Steve and seeing him care so strongly about the kids doesn’t help that at all.)

When, after a miraculous moment of stoned courage Eddie asks Steve out, they start dating Eddie starts getting little gifts for Steve, including pocket knives that he thought were pretty or cool. Steve cherishes them and he repays Eddie by getting him a custom sword for his birthday months later. (The sword gets used to cut the cake when they get married, both holding onto it together)

[dailyoriginalcharacter]

SMILEZ is a dream demon, he can be anything that you fear. With the ability to mock appearances and shift into your worst nightmares, Smilez has a knack for leading someone to their demise.

send me an ask about him on @ruindlc !

SMILEZ during the story, mocks the appearance and personality of Samson Reed (pictured above, blonde hair with purple dye), the unlucky victim of a car crash, stalking the two 'living' survivors Juno and Aries through limbo, hoping to break the two cousins down to their deaths. Smilez uses this ability to try and lure people into a sense of security, using someone they trust as a "guiding light" as an angler fish would do to its prey.

Smilez also has other abilities, delving into someone's worst fears and taking them, morphing his body to resemble what xey would feel weakest too.

Smilez never looks the same to anyone, always changing, shifting, and learning. Are you afraid of clowns? bugs? maybe even the vastness of what remains undiscovered?

I promise you, he will become it.

Orginally designed and thought of for a survival horror, I will describe some of his 'mechanics' as they still apply with the current ideas of Malaise.

Smilez is able to unlock doors with the tips of his fingers (very slow, giving ample time to hide under a bed, closet, or bathroom) and will tap along a vents siding like an aye-aye would an 'empty' tree, feeling for the vibrations the Player (JUNO) would produce when moving, the tappings have an aduio que that start with a small scratching sound that proceeds with a tapping audio.

Smilez can not see as well as he would've liked too, so he uses his hearing to his advantage, if the Player is around a corner or in close distance to smilez but NOT in his direct line of sight (you will see his shadow in these situations if hes onto you), Smilez will start to listen for breathing, which applies a "hold your breath" mechanic, holding your breath would end up being a clicking-based function, having to click a sequence of four keys to survive this, UNLESS the player has a throwable item in inventory (which are easy to find) and that item can be thrown any direction which will send smilez bounding that way (he usually runs on all fours, by the way.)

But... that is all i will mention! check out the Malaise spotify playlist (HERE)

and the pinterest board (HERE)

[diabolus1exmachina]

Saab Catherina (Protoype) 

The Catherina prototype was penned by Sixten Sason, Saab’s first designer. Story has it he initially wanted to design a Saab-based sports coupe to use as his personal car. He commissioned a Swedish firm named Svenska Järnvägsverkstäderna to build his dream machine in 1964 using mechanical components that were readily available in the Saab parts bin. The finished model featured an elegant look that shared virtually no styling cues with the 96 that it borrowed the bulk of its drivetrain from. Notably, it was equipped with a targa-style removable roof panel that could be stored in the large trunk when the sun came out.Saab was impressed by the coupe. It was close to breaking into the sports car segment, and it seriously considered approving the Catherina for production without making any major changes to it. Ultimately, executives green-lit another prototype, called MF1 13, that later morphed into the Sonett II.

[genderfluidgothwitch]

Re your tags on the ask post: PLEASE DO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR WRITING. You deserve to gush about your creative things!

AHHHHHHH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

So I have many novels in the works, but my most important one by far is Just Another Tomorrow which I've been working on for over a decade at this point. I started it as an escapist fiction when I was in high school and it has morphed into a novel about life, therapy, found family, and other strong topics such as familial abuse, drug abuse, teen pregnancy, hate crimes, unorthodox coping mechanisms, and what love really means.

Maddie, a 17 year old, has been stuck with her abusive father since she was 4 years old. She was told her mother walked out on her and her father (truth later reveals she committed vehicular suicide). In her freshman year, she meets Cameron, who notices how solitary she is and tries to become her friend. He learns about her home life and becomes determined to get her out of there, by any means necessary.

The book starts on the night they run away, and follows them through their road trip. The book is told from Cam's POV, he is a very unreliable and biased narrator, but he's also a 19-20 year old dumbass who of course has privileges he never considered (two parents, nice house, stable jobs, etc), so he learns A LOT through the book. Between chapters, we get excerpts from Maddie's diary, to show her perspective on things. We learn about their history together through flashbacks, shown through Cam's POV as well, because the novel very much follows his train of thought (poor undiagnosed ADHD man). So basically something triggers the memory in the book and it goes into the flashback, it's very fun.

Anyways they're just trying to stay away from their hometown until Maddie turns 18, so that legally they're in the clear from her father. However, they run out of resources and they don't know what to do, so when they're stopped in a small town in Arkansas, he's trying to get some cans of soup and peanut butter, and an older couple comes into the shop and notices him. This is Rob and Edie, cofounders and current owners of Summerfield Family Campground. Edie asks if he needs help, and he nods, on the verge of tears, because of course this was his idea, he was supposed to have all the solutions, he was supposed to help Maddie, and now he's struggling. So they couple offers help, Cam and Maddie follow them to the campground, to a smaller offset called Utopia. This is where Rob and Edie host their found family, all sorts of people who they've helped over the year. This includes their biological son Vinny, his husband Daryl (nicknamed Dare because in college he took every dare given to him), Jess and her toddler aged daughter, Elijah, [Wren] (I have gone through about 13 names for this character and I cannot settle on one, basically genderqueer AuDHD who was a troubled foster kid), and a few others. Ta da, found family!

Anyways, this is where most of the positive character development happens, Cam learns, Maddie heals, everyone is happy, until cops discover that Cam and Maddie are runaways and that their parents are desperate for them to come home, so they have to run again.

Later, Cam accidentally finds Maddie's diary open to a page where she talks about wanting to go home because things were easier there (it was an older entry but undated bc they lost track of the days during their trip) and he gets mad, storms off, and gets hit by a car. They're both taken to the hospital, and that leads to parents getting called and basically the end of the running away. Cam's parents arrive first and he starts explaining to them why he had to do what he did. Then Maddie's father arrives and starts laying into her, tearing her a new one, making a scene, and that's when Cams parents intervene and say she's not going with you. He's banned from the hospital and goes back home bc he didn't wanna keep paying for the hotel. Happy ending, Maddie and Cam are safe and (relatively speaking) well. Obviously Cam has a long road of recovery ahead but he's alive, so can't really be too upset at the circumstances.

There's a LOT more than that to the book, but that's the gist of it. I'm really proud of Just Another Tomorrow. Special thanks to @xmarinaryx who has seen this book from start to finish more times than I can count, and has marked up many a page with red pen.