#things could be stranger but i don't know how

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Guardian Angel

CW: Stalking, people breaking into your apartment (Arkham Knight and others), people brushing off an obvious issue, and violence. Be warned, there are no angels in Gotham. ~2.2k words

You have a stalker. Probably. Maybe. If you do, they're so good at covering their tracks that you're starting to believe you're just paranoid.

But it's the odd events, the trinkets moved slightly out of place, that have you checking over your shoulder.

There wasn't even any evidence at first. Your day had been completely normal. All you were doing was cooking dinner, when your nerves went on end, and goosebumps rose on your skin. The feeling of being watched, of being prey set in.

It didn't make sense, didn't have a reason, but you closed your curtains and triple checked your locks nonetheless. (The bat you keep by your bed slept next to you that night)

You would have forgotten about the incident entirely if, a week later, the same feeling crept up your spine while you walked home. You'd never walked faster to get to your building. You'd practically sprinted up the stairs to your apartment, and slammed to the door behind you.

Even within your home, it took almost the whole night for the feeling to fade.

Two times could be a coincidence, but then things started getting stranger.

You could have sworn you left your keys on the counter the night before, so why, why did you find them on the coffee table?

It makes you uneasy, almost sick, but you're already late to work. So you do the only thing you can, you brush it off.

Until it happens. A thing you can't brush off.

You knew you had used the last of the sugar yesterday. Knew it because you had made a mental note to pick some up the next time you went to the store.

But there's sugar. It's not a lot. Just enough to get you through a few days. Enough to make you think you might have just missed the last of it.

You know you're right. You know you were out of sugar and even if your coworkers laugh and tell you to get more sleep, that having an angel that refills your sugar can't be that bad, you know someone's been in your apartment.

You set traps, set cameras, get your locks changed, take note of everything. You don't get any evidence.

But you notice that your window doesn't squeak anymore when you open it. Your shower doesn't rattle when you go to start it. Your oven actually heats up to the temperature you set it to.

It's been like this for months now. And you're starting to believe that Gotham does have its own set of angels that go around trying to make your life a little easier.

That is until, you meet him.

You'd been unlucky. Gotten grabbed and dragged into the alley by your apartment by some haggard looking man waving a gun. It wasn't the first time you'd been mugged in Gotham, and you doubted it would be the last.

You had reluctantly pulled your wallet and phone out of your pockets and handed them off when an armored-clad person dropped between the gun and you.

At first, it was a relief. Being saved by Batman or Nightwing is practically a rite of passage in Gotham.

But then you watched the would-be mugger hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his arm. Then you watched your savior turn to face you, and you knew it was him.

You didn't have an explanation, you didn't have proof. You'd never even seen a glimpse of the helmet that hid his face before. But you knew. He's the one that's been following you. He's the one that's been in your home.

No amount of good deeds can overshadow how violating it feels, to know he's been watching you, observing you, doing things for you. You instinctively step back.

He only matches the distance you tried to create with a step of his own.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap, sounding braver than you feel.

He doesn't answer at first, just tilts his head like he's studying you. You think it might be because he's never seen you think close before.

"I saved you," he says instead, completely avoiding your question. You wonder if he's expecting to be treated like a hero, if he's looking for your praise. It makes your stomach churn.

"You've been following you. You're the one who's been in my apartment," You protest, eyes darting.

You half expect someone to come help you. With the way he's dressed, with how he's carrying himself, he has to be some kind of new villian you missed on the news.

He straightens out at your accusation, "Have I?"

You almost falter, almost do chalk it up to paranoia, but you just knew. Every fiber of your being knows, "Yes," You breathe out instead, "You have."

He nods slowly, then turns his back to you. A part of you wants to run, to try and escape and scream and get as far away from the man who feels like he could make you disappear without a trace.

He bends down and scoops up your phone and wallet before turning back to you. You freeze when he walks closer, each step steady and measured, then extends your belongings to you. Your hand shakes when you snatch at them.

You half expect him to yank them away, to make you beg, but he doesn't. He only keeps his grip tight on them, forcing you to be connected while you tug helpless at your things.

He watches you with his head slightly cocked before speaking again, "And if I have?"

He's easy, robotic cadence makes your blood grow cold, "Then you should stop," You retort, voice as cold as your veins.

"And if I won't," he prompts, finally releasing his hold on your things.

"I'll go to the police," You threaten, stuffing your wallet and phone back into your pockets.

"They can't help you," he warns. It makes you uneasy, that he makes no attempt to keep space between you. Even if his body language doesn't seem dangerous, everything else about him does.

"They can contact Batman," You try instead.

He laughs. It sounds humorless, empty, "He can't help you either."

You lose your nerve then, when he pats your cheek, and the guns holstered to his side seem to glint at you. "Get home," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're some kind of pet.

And then he's gone, leaving you to an alley empty of anything, save for you and the mugger crumpled to the ground. All you can do is go home. Sleep doesn't come for you that night.

He's sloppy, now that he knows you know. You can tell it's on purpose.

Flashes of glowing blue outside your window, your things carelessly shifted about your apartment, the broken fan that hasn't worked since you moved in left on and spinning when you come home from work.

The only place he hasn't seemed to touch is your bedroom. You're not sure if it's because he's showing some slightest form of respect or if he's simply too good at hiding his tracks for you to notice.

Both options make you feel anxious, and you constantly comb over your things for proof of his presence.

You rack your brain over it, lose sleep over it, but you can't come up with one idea of who he is and why he's doing this.

There's nothing on him in the news, nothing on the internet, not even a whisper on the streets.

It feels like it's all one big, sick game to him when your favorite flowers start showing up at your door, when your gas tank fills itself.

When you tell your coworkers, in a near panic, about your rent being mysteriously paid, they tell you it's harmless, it's kind of sweet, really.

Shouldn't you just be grateful that someone's doing all that for you? Shouldn't you be thankful to have an angel looking out for you in this city?

But you know it's not harmless. You know he's capable of so much more. You know he's no angel.

The sound of the mugger's arm snapping still haunts you.

But you don't know what to do. You're stuck, on edge, and slowly coming to terms with having to live like this forever.

That is, until your bad luck seems to get even worse. You were in your pajamas, already half asleep as you're lounging on your couch, when your world gets thrown into chaos.

There's a click in your apartment door's lock, and you have the terrifying realization that tonight's the one night you'd forgotten to throw the deadbolt.

"I told ya I could get the keys to this floor. And barely anybody lives in this building afta what happen ta Murphy," the heavy Gotham accent fills your apartment and three men file into your living room like they own it.

They freeze when they see you, and you don't hesitate to sprint for your fire escape.

You've just managed to throw your window open when one of them grabs you around the middle and hauls you back, throwing you to the floor. Your head knocks against the ground, and everything spins.

You think you whimper as they start bickering. "You said no one would be here!"

"They weren't supposed ta be! It's all supposed ta be empty," one of them snaps back. It only makes your head pound and your vision swim.

You try to push yourself off the floor, but a boot lands at the center of your back and forces you back to the ground, "We have to kill them."

Murmurs of reluctance fill the room, and for a second, you think you'll get to live.

"They saw our faces," You hear the telltale sound of a gun clicking off its safety, "I'll do it."

You flinch with the shot sounds, but no more pain comes. The weight comes off your back, and a body collapses to the floor next to you.

You lift your head just enough to see a familiar blur of blue charge at the remaining two men.

It's not so much of a fight as it is an execution. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but anything you can't see you can hear.

There's no mercy in his actions, all wrath and fury, and you want to laugh because, in a way, he is your guardian angel. An avenging angel, pummeling the people who threatened you into something unrecognizable.

You're sure how long it lasts, how long you hear his fists connect to their flesh. But eventually, your apartment goes quiet. The sound of fabric shuffling reaches your ears, and calloused hands carefully help you move until you're sitting up.

Warm palms press to your face you realize he's taken his gloves off. You force your eyes to open, morbidly curious if he's removed his helmet, too. You're not sure why you're disappointed he hasn't.

"Saved me again," You mumble, words almost slurring.

"You're not safe here," he says softly, and his thumb runs over your cheek like he's trying to comfort you.

"They didn't think anyone lived here," You supply, but he apparently doesn't find that very reassuring.

"Let's get you out here," he says instead, and you blame it on your head injury for being impressed at how he doesn't show any signs of struggling when he picks you up and cradles you to his chest.

"Don't have anywhere to go," you say weakly, mentally trying to do the math on how much a safe hotel would cost at this time of night.

The moonlight seems to give his helmet an odd shine as you stare hazily at him. It almost looks like a halo.

"I have a place," he tells you, already carrying you out of your apartment window.

That snaps you out of your thoughts. It makes you frown, even in your dazed state, you know you don't want to go with him. That even with the trick of the light, he's no angel.

You start to squirm, "No– no, wait–"

"You need somewhere safe to recover," he says, and he doesn't seem to notice your fidgeting. Your heart leaps to your throat, at how securely he's holding you. With anyone else, it would have felt like a promise of protection.

"I don't trust you, you're not safe," You stumble out, head growing heavy with each step he takes from your apartment.

"No one's safe. But I don't have any plans on hurting you," he murmurs, seemingly more occupied with getting you to wherever he's planning to take you.

"But you could," You exhale out, and your voice sounds weak even to yourself.

That makes him pause, and his helmet tips as if he's focusing on you, "Maybe, but I wouldn't like it."

You want to argue more, demand he set you down. But your brain feels so foggy, and you're so tired and drained that your head just kind of finds itself on his shoulder.

"You can sleep," he says, and your eyes fall shut at how soft he sounds, "I'll keep watch."

You really do want to protest, but his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. You can't help but think, as you drift off, that your angel might have fallen far lower than you can handle.

[loudclan-clangen]

Fish in a birdcage for Rosehip amd Dodwood tho

YES

Bee is not one of the rogues himself, but two of his sons are! Also one of Butterfly's sons, and two of Coal's sons that he had after Fiercestripe left. They aren't really important to the story so they don't get names or anything, but I think that it makes everything a little bit more tragic that Fierce is fighting her nephews who she would have loved to watch grow up and might recognize her from when they were young.

2. Kingfur and Sockeyepelt would both be pretty devastated if Chumtail dies, she's similar to Dashpaw in that she's kinda the mediator between her two more polarized siblings. Really everyone who's up on the chopping block is the most stable of their family, meaning everyone is going to be very NORMAL after this, I'm sure. Also thank you!

3. Yes! There will be stickers of the mediator kids (especially now that you've asked). I'm drawing sketches based on what people have requested, and I'll make a post letting everyone know when they go up. Currently I have Weed, Siltsplash, the Mediator Kids, and some couple stickers in the works.

There were many factors in Fiercestripe's decision. 1. Thorn was 4 moons old by the time Fiercestripe left, so she was well past carrying size (especially with Fiercestripe being a small cat). Even if Wildfirecry could carry her, or she walked on her own, it would slow their pace significantly and require them to take more breaks, leading to the farm cats likely catching them. 2. If Fiercestripe had taken Thorn then the farm cats would have more justification to track them down and forcefully bring them back. It's one thing for a she-cat to leave, it's another for a she-cat to take her mate's kit with her. (part of why the farm cats have made it to loudclan now is because they're chasing a pregnant she-cat). 3. Wildfirecry hadn't agreed for Fiercestripe to come with him. He was a stranger who had stayed a couple nights with the farm cats and was just as likely to turn her away or harm her as he was to allow her to come with him. He would have been a lot less likely to agree to travel with her if she came with the responsibility of a kitten. 4. Wildfirecry and Fiercestripe did not have an easy journey. They didn't have a destination or a set path, they just wandered from place to place for years until they were convinced to join Loudclan. It's pretty likely that had Thorn been brought with them she would have frozen, starved, drowned or been eaten by a predator given that Wildfirecry was the only one with any hunting or fighting skill, and kittens aren't as tough as grown cats. All in all, bringing Thorn along wasn't really an option. Fiercestripe's only choices were leave Thorn or stay with the farm cats and hope that another outsider came along later when Thorn was grown. (Thorn's story is a bit different, Frost and Spider were outsiders who joined the farm cats later in life, so Frost knew how to hunt and fight, thus allowing them to wait for their kits to grow before they left.)

I designed them on my own! I find pretend genetics very fun and it gives me a chance to think more in depth about the rough backstories I have for these characters and how their childhood would have affected the way that we see them act in the story.

[nthspecialll]

Bill Williamson shaped by an army knife

(This post is a casual explanation(ish), not meant to defend but rather explore and discuss Bill Williamson's character and how it is shaped by the army, it has also been sensitivity and proof read by a native to ensure that I did not accidently word anything in a way that would hurt the native community)

As many knows, Bill Williamson was in the army, and if you look closer you can see the many different ways in which it formed him, the ways in which a constantly stressful envioment filled with death shaped the person he is.

I am going to mention the one thing that stood out to me first, racism. Now hang on when I say this, he isn't, he is not racist, but you know what he is? A parot who got fed words and repeats them. And why would I say that? Do I have evidence? Yes.

The two characters we see Bill go after is Javier and Lenny, he calls Lenny "boy" and says "come over here!" or "I don't like your attitude", meanwhile with Javier he straight up calls him a slur. But something to notice is that Bill praises both of those characters at other times. Bill calls Lenny "son" and yells to everyone about how amazing he is and the proud almost fatherly instrict is oozing. With Javier there is a similar interaction where he is drunk and he is yapping Sean's ear off about how amazing Javier is.

We do not see that with Micah (That I can find), the only possitive thing Micah says to either of them is "you aren't so bad, for a greaser". Another thing to point out is that Micah is constantly belittling both Lenny and Javier, saying things like "you can write and everything, unusual for one of you. Oh you know, hoodlums," Bill does not, he does not belittle them.

So why would he say such things? Because he was angry, and why would he say that because he is upset?

Bill was in the army, common knowledge, uncommon (or at least commonly forgotten) is the fact that he fought the American Indian War. He did not fight other white people, he fought the native americans, and they were scary. He tells that story himself in a camp interaction, talking about how scary it was, and I do think he was frightened and not just empty words as he at the end jumps at the sound of a neighing horse.

Bill saw people get murdered, he saw his friends get slaughtered and he was told by the army to turn that anger towards the natives. The army implimented racist ideologies to excuse the genocide they were making and to rile their armies.

I often think of the line between Bill and Dutch where Bill says "I saw things!" and Dutch says "I am sure you do! But I don't think you could understand it" and I think that is spot on. Bill saw his friends dying, he saw his comrades dying, people he was likely as close to as he was the VDL gang (I will return to that later) dying. All he saw were these people murdering his friends, not that those people were fighting for their right to exist, and for every body the army framed it all on the natives, that it was all their fault, without mentioning anything that the army was doing to the natives.

The only times Bill acts out in a racist manner is when he is angry and he is often angry at himself, but he has always been told that when he is angry he should direct it towards people of color by the army, so he does. He does not believe it, but he does it anyways. There are a few times, like in the camp interactions mentioned, where he is not angry, but that is simply the brainwash that the army put him under to justify killing. He is saying those things because he has been told to.

He says the words but they seem empty as his actions are more supportive of his friends than anything.

Another thing I noticed is how protective he is of the gang, not just of Dutch, but the gang, even though he is painted as lazy, many times he is not, especially when it comes to protection. I often see him standing at the edge of camp even when he is off guard, and in that one camp interaction where strangers find camp, he is there, he is watching over them, in the Valentine robbery he was also smart enough to know to bring backup, he knew that if things were to go wrong, he needed to have someone there, Arthur.

Now some people are going to come and say "Oh but he didn't realise the security job was a trick," no, he did not, do you know who also did not? Dutch, Lenny, Karen, characters whom it was mentioned in front of. The only ones who did realise were Arthur and Sean, and despite Bill trying to throw the blame off himself at first, he does blame himself, there are interactions of him saying he blames himself for Sean's death. Similarly when Angelo Bronte offers up money, he is not planning to take it, he is making sure no one else is, I got a whole post on that.

One of the other things about Bill, is that people say he did not care when Lenny died. I do think he did, he has so many camp interactions where he is calling Lenny son, being proud of him and so on, but I do think that the army got to him there too. When in battle people die, people die often and you cannot stop because they do, no matter how much you loved that person, if you are on an open battle field charging towards the enemy, you do not have time to stop.

When in the army you are expected to be a tough manly dude, in chapter six Arthur can ask if Bill is okay and he never gives a real answer, instead he shifts the convosation away. Bill believes he is not allowed to show weakness because doing so in the army was not allowed, anything unmanly was not allowed. I do also believe that is where he gets his fucked up realtionship with his sexuality (I am not even going to explain why I think of him as queer, I do believe others are able to see if, but also if anyone says "No he aint!" that is a fair opinion but the va does hc him to be queer), wanting to flirt (or at least befriend) Kieran but not knowing how to without coming off as unmanly.

Returning to how he would care for the army friends he made, is how he ended after he got thrown out. Bill says his biggest fear as a kid was to be an alcoholic and look at where he ended up. He even says he completely lost himself after the army, that Dutch "saved Bill Williamson."

Well even if it was not everyone whom he liked, there was at least one person. If we look at his letter from the army, he is thrown out for attempted murder and deviancy ("the fact or state of diverging from usual or accepted standards, especially in social or sexual behaviour." aka can be used for homosexuality). An interesting thing to note is that both of those alone is enough to throw someone out of the army, so why is both there unless they happened at the same time? I see it likely that Bill was discovered with a lover and either the person found them attacked Bill and lover or Bill attacked the person who found them to silence them. Either way, Bill did not succeed and instead he got thrown.

Tags: @cupidsbeartrap

[cellythefloshie]

;; Don't Blame Me A Matthew Knies Fanfiction

Summary: Back home for the summer, you and your bestie hit up the neighbor’s pool party. In attendance is your sister’s ex boyfriend, Matthew Knies – but he’s only got eyes for you. Kinks & TW: sister's ex-boyfriend, age gap (older reader), sexual acts in public, car sex, sundress season, unprotected sex (pull-out method but make it sloppy), masturbation, drug and alcohol consumption (marijuana) Word Count: 6.4k+

The base dropped, and your stomach went with it. You could physically feel the music as it pulsed through the home. From the speakers, the music vibrated the floor, you could feel it against your feet and how it reverberated into your bones. You couldn’t hear the laughter that slipped from your friend’s lips after a bad joke, nor could you hear the clinking of glasses as someone made a toast to the host, Phillip, that was happening nearby. 

Hell, you couldn’t even hear yourself think. Which wasn’t the worst thing, since it was your first weekend back home after a brutal semester of grad school. You had spent the last 10 months grueling over your degree. You should have been letting loose like everyone else at the party. Instead, you found yourself sidelined, clutching a neon pink drink your best friend had greeted you with as a peace offering for accepting the role as her wing woman for the night. 

The target? You hadn’t heard his name, but you didn’t need to hear him to know that he was exactly her type. Tall, brunette, and, as she so often described, her ideal man, medium ugly. He was a goner the moment she walked into the party, and he seemed to accept his fate with a smile - which made your job a lot easier. You just had to smile and hope he had good looking friends. 

Taking a long sip of your too-sweet drink, your eyes peered up over the rim of the glass, watching the crowd as it swarmed like bees in a hive. Bodies distorted by flashing, colored lights as they danced, others used the darkness to conceal a secret kiss - and where it was brighter, that’s where the real chaos ensued. You couldn’t see anything more than the fluorescent glow from the kitchen, but you could hear it, even over the blaring music. The hoots and hollers that could only mean one thing. A frat boy’s favorite pastime; beer pong–

“Hey!” You flinched as your best nudged you with her elbow to pull your attention back to her. “You’re so tense, you’ve got to try to relax. We’re back home! Have some fun, for once!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, trying to smile, but you lost it as you brought your drink to your lips. You took a bigger gulp, feeling the sugary alcohol burn as it went down, and didn’t stop until the cup was empty. Maybe, if you drank enough, you’d finally loosen up. 

Being back home, you were supposed to feel at ease–free even. But you couldn’t be, not as long as you were in the house surrounded by strangers mixed with familiar faces that you hadn’t seen since high school. It left a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach, a little thankful that your best friend had you hiding along the walls and away from the rest of the party. This had you dreading having to leave to get yourself another drink. 

You held up your glass, dandling it playfully in front of her face playfully, “where can I get another one of these?”

“The kitchen.”

Fuck. 

“Come with me?” You pouted, and just in case that wasn’t enough for her, you bat your eyes at her too. “I’m sure your man will be here when we get back.”

Her smile was mischievous as she leaned into her man to speak directly into his ear. He seemed to melt beneath her words, his jaw slacking and his head nodding along with her words. Then, with the promise that she would return, you were both free. 

You walked together arm in arm, and suddenly you were the center of attention. All eyes were on the two of you as you pushed through the crowd, and with the attention, you became all too self-conscious. Were your pants too tight? Did your makeup look alright in dim lighting? Your mind raced with insecurity, and it only got worse as you reached the threshold of the kitchen. 

It was there you paused mid-step, your best friend’s stride trying to tug you in after her, but you were an anchor, unmoving. 

There was a mess of bodies in front of you, all crammed into the kitchen like sardines. You had never seen so many people in one palace, their bodies colliding and voices loud as they took turns tossing the ball across the table. The splash of the ball into a cup sent the pale amber beer splashing from the cup and down onto the table. A large hand encompassed the red cup, near crushing it, before he brought it up to thin lips and chugged with such desperation that left the drinker gasping when he was through. 

You could only lick your lips as you watched beer bead down the man’s lips and chiseled jaw. The movement of your tongue mimicking his before you could even realize what you were doing or who he was. And when that moment dawned on you, you were ready to run out the front door. 

“Is that…” your best friend muttered just loud enough for you to hear. She didn’t leave your side, but she did lean in, squinting her eyes as if she didn’t have perfect vision. Then she gasped, confirming the sight that you had hoped was just a drunken mirage. “Holy shit, it is.”

There, at the center of the crowd - a crowd that you were only now realizing was the next worst thing after frat boys: hockey players - with the front of his shirt now soaked with beer as he chugged back another cup, was Matthew Knies, your sister’s ex-boyfriend. 

He looked almost the same as you remembered. Just a bit taller, and with a build that could have only been accomplished with the help of a coach or personal trainer. But it was clear he wasn’t the lanky kid that had broken her heart all those years ago.

They hadn’t been together long, maybe a half a year, but your sister was convinced she was in love. What sixteen-year-old in her first “real relationship” didn’t feel that way? She had gone as far as to plan to move to Nebraska to be with him after she graduated, but he had other plans. He hadn’t had the guts to break up with her before he left. He had been a dumb teenager, but that didn’t stop you from resenting him. 

“Let’s just make a drink and get back to the real party,” you spoke through grit teeth, your gaze dropping to the floor. 

Together, you and your friend pushed around the roster of hockey players and made your way around to the makeshift bar on the kitchen counter. She made your drink for you, just as she had done before, and just when you thought you were in the clear, she whispered to you, “he’s coming over here.”

“Shut up,” you hissed as you took hold of your drink and gripped it tight. 

Before you could fully brace yourself for the interaction, Matt was standing in front of you. Towering over you and smiling. He looked good, annoyingly good, with a casual confidence that only made you more irritated. 

Thankfully, before you could say something you would regret, your best friend took the lead. She offered him a sickeningly sweet smile, her arms opening up wide to greet him with a casual hug. They had grown up next door to one another and had been the reason your sister had even crossed his path. Yet, she masked the annoyance she held in solidarity with you, and greeted him with soft pleasantries, “we didn’t think you’d be home. I thought that’s why your brother was hosting.”

“He’s around,” he replied to her with a smile. Then he looked directly at you. 

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, your eyes narrowing as you leaned your neck to look up at him. “She’s not here,” you bit out at him, your words so sharp and bitter you had to wash them down with a sip of your drink. 

Matthew stared at you, his eyebrow raised and head cocked to the side - and you could have sworn you could see him smile as he spoke. “Nice to see you, too.” There was no hint of malice or annoyance in his tone. Instead, they oozed with pleasure, as if he were happy to see you. 

It made your teeth grit. 

Glancing at your best friend, she met your stare, the two of you silently planning your escape route from the kitchen - from him. Which left his movement unnoticed to you until you could feel the heat of his body radiating against your side. In the crowded space you were backed into a corner, trapped between his broad and towering body and the bar as he mixed himself a drink. 

Your skin prickled with a mix of anger - and something else you didn’t want to identify, or didn’t have the time to, because as Matthew was pulling back with his fresh cup, his elbow knocked your arm. The contact sent the pink liquid of your drink splashing down the front of your white shirt. You gasped, the cold liquor sticky on your skin as it soaked through the fabric and revealed the bra you wore beneath it. 

“For fuck's sake,” your words were a hiss through your teeth, “you neanderthal!” 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he spoke quickly, his hands reaching for an expensive dish towel. Matthew draped it over your arm and dragged it up and over your shoulder in an attempt to dry you off, but it only frustrated you further. Lurching away, you glared up at him, and he stared down at you wide-eyed and mouth gaping, “I can make you another drink—”

“I don’t need another drink,” you bit back. “I need something to wear.”

Putting your empty cup down on the bar, you pinched at the stained white fabric of your shirt and pulled it away from your chest. It was sticky, see through, and his teammates were staring.

“Run back home,” your best friend’s voice pulled your hardened stare from Matthew’s oblivious one, “let yourself back into the house. Chance, and I’ll catch up with you later.” She punctuated her words with a wink, and before you could respond, she was off, walking back into the glamouring glow of the party - back to her medium ugly man of the night - and that left you alone with Matthew. 

Fantastic. 

Forcing a smile, you turned to leave, pushing your way back through the crowded party and out into the front yard. You stumbled down the steps, sneaking past people who had stepped out for a cigarette or just to escape the noise. The gust of night wind was welcome on your face, though it chilled your body. But you were only cold for so long. The touch of a large hand grasping your elbow heated your body and left you spinning in place at the bottom of the steps. 

Your hair fell across your face, obscuring your view of the person who still had his grasp on you. They weren’t quite holding you back, nor were they trying to stop you from leaving. Their touch was a mere attempt to let you know he was there before he spoke. “Hey, what did I do to deserve the third degree?”

Matthew. 

For fuck's sake. 

“You mean besides ruining my favorite shirt,” you shot back, trying to shake him off as you marched across the lawn.

While he dropped his hand, he continued to follow. His footsteps echoed you, his body your shadow as you unlocked the door and stepped inside your best friend’s home. You knew its layout better than your own home. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, and instead navigated through the living room and up the stairs to the second story bedrooms. Matthew tripped and fumbled in your wake, only to find his composure behind you as you disappeared into the bedroom door. 

Turning on the small lamp that rested on the bedside table, you used its glow to rummage through the suitcase you had yet to unpack. Articles of clothing became strewn over the bed, something you surely would come to regret later when you were hopefully too drunk to even get out of your clothes. At the bottom of your bag you found exactly what you wanted, a linen sundress in your favorite color. You almost smiled at the sight of it, holding it up with both hands as you admired the clean, dry fabric. 

Fingers let the fabric fall to the bed before your hands retreated to your shirt, only to pause. Sighing, you looked back over your shoulder to find Matthew standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you. Maybe if you gave the answers he was looking for, he’d finally leave you alone. 

“You know what you did,” you told him, your voice laced with years of pent-up frustrations. 

His features seemed to glow with the realization of just what you were referring to. It was like a lightbulb finally glowing bright after hours of flickering. “That was five years ago,” he exclaimed, punctuating the sentence with your name. 

You huffed, your body burning hot with anger. It left sweat to bead down your back, and your hair standing up on end as you grew impatient with him. Turning in place so that you stood with your back to him, you stripped yourself free of your sticky shirt and jeans. You left them in a heap on the floor, standing at the foot of the bed in nothing but your bra and panties for a moment before pulling the dress on over top. When you were done, you glanced at him as she stood there, waiting for something. 

“Stop staring at me,” you muttered, a single hand reaching down and pulling your bra out from beneath your dress like some sort of magic trick. It, too, soaked with liquor, became lost on the floor. 

“Forgive me and I’ll leave you alone,” he proposed. 

You scoffed, pushing past him as he stood in the doorway. 

He followed you back out onto the lawn, his body so close to yours you felt his heat, and his legs caught the fluttering fabric of your dress. His presence only infuriated you further. 

“We were sixteen,” he said, pleading with you as you reached his driveway together. 

“She loved you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, “and you broke her heart.”

Matthew was scoffing now, his frustration seeping into his tone. “We didn’t even know what love was back then. We never even–”

You stopped dead in your tracks, the implication of his words hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Are you seriously telling me you dumped her because she wouldn’t sleep with you?” you asked, disgusted but not surprised. 

“No!” he answered quickly, as if he had fumbled the very conversation. He took a deep breath as he reached for your arm, taking it gentle. He seemed surprised when you let him, his hold careful as he guided you back to sit on the hood of the car in the driveway. There his head hung low, his long shaggy hair falling into his face, and his hand left your body only to prince the bridge of his nose. He took a long, deep breath before he spoke again, his voice quieter now. “It wasn’t like that.”

You scoffed, your eyes rolling as you continued to demand more from him. “Was she not good enough for you or something?”

But while you escalated, Matthew remained calm, composed. “Something like that.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your knuckles going white, as every fiber of your being was ready to explode. “You’re lucky I don’t hit you for saying that,” you spoke slowly, your eyes on the ground as you tried to breathe through the anger. To hit him wouldn’t be the sweet revenge your sister deserved, but it would be a start-

“She wasn’t good enough because the person I wanted was you!” Matthew blurted out, his voice raising just enough to stop you from interrupting him. 

Yet, you didn’t think you heard him right. You couldn’t have. Matthew wanting you? It was simply unbelievable… comical… and the longer you sat there simmering in his confession, the harder it was to believe. Then, without warning, you burst into laughter. It was so absurd, so completely ridiculous, that you couldn’t help it. You laughed so hard your stomach ached in the best way and it forced you to lie back carelessly on the hood of the car. There, you let your head lull to the side, your hair falling into your face as you smiled at him. 

Matthew, however, met you with a soft yet firm stare. He wasn’t joking, and that terrified you. This man was delusional. 

Slowly, he slid off the hood of the car and took two slow steps to stand in front of you. His hand raised first in surrender before coming to rest on each side of your body. They were flat against the hood, trapping you in place. “I’m serious.”

You sat up, a single hand reaching up to push the hair from your face. You wanted him to see the near hysterical look on your face as you challenged him. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his eyes locking onto yours. “But you’re still incredibly sexy.”

Your body flushed with heat, and your brows furrowed. His words weren’t supposed to affect you like that, and sitting there with his hands so close to your thighs, you convinced yourself that they normally wouldn’t. But there, sitting on the hood of that car that cost more than you could even fathom, with the heat of his body between your knees and that heavy, almost vacant stare, you were weak for him in every inch of your body - but you still had your mind. 

“I’m too old for you,” you retorted, trying to keep your cool. 

“Are you?” he challenged back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“I finished undergrad before you were even drafted,” you pointed out, searching for any excuse to push him away when your hands wanted nothing more to reach out, grab him by the shirt collar and pull him in. 

“So what? That doesn’t change anything,” he scoffed. 

“I don’t know if this is some kind of fetish for you,” you started, desperate to regain control of the conversation, “but you really should be hitting on girls your own age.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked, his tone casual, as if there was nothing wrong with the attractions he felt for you. It was with that question you made the mistake of meeting his eyes. You saw the intensity there, and it made your heart race. 

“Why?” you raised a brow at him, “because they wouldn’t be your ex-girlfriends older sister.” You leaned in just enough to emphasize the allure of your proposition. "You have a house full of young, pretty girls who haven’t sat through awkward family dinners with you at the table."

The two of you shared a small smile that made your words seem more like an inside joke than a good idea. He laughed, though it was more of a chuckle, as he leaned in just a fraction closer. “And they wouldn't be playing hard to get.”

“Oh, that’s what you think this is?” you asked, your voice finding a more teasing, jovial tone. 

Matthew laughed again, his hair falling into his face. He reached up to push it back, but when his hand retreated, his touch found your cheek. His fingers caressed down the angles of your face, ghosted the corner of your mouth, and found your chin. Matthew took it gently between his thumb and forefinger and tilted your head back oh so slowly. You held your breath as he looked at you, really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the very first time. And then, without warning, he leaned in. You felt the warmth of his breath before you felt his lips. It plumed over your face with its sweet intoxicating scent, as if to pull you in that last breath of an inch to his thin lips that meshed with yours in a slow, tentative kiss. 

For a moment, you were too shocked to react, so you just sat there, his lips grazing over yours so lightly they barely touched. You were sure he could feel you breathe out the shudder that coursed through your body. It was only then, as the innate part of you threatened to take over, your brain caught up with it and you pushed him away with both hands and looked at him wide-eyed and breathless. 

“What the hell?” you stammered out, wiping the ghost of him off your lips with the back of your hand as you tried to make sense of what just happened. 

Matthew just stood there, his expression unreadable, as if he was waiting for you to make the next move. 

And for the first time in a long time, you had no idea what to do. 

You sat there on the hood of his car, unmoving. The warmth of him radiated against the inside of your thighs, his hands so close to the curves of your hip as he stood there, his body still so close to yours and his lips so close to returning to your lips. Yet, he held such restraint. You could see it in his eyes as he stared at you, waiting desperately for more. But you couldn’t give it to him. Not Matthew. 

Too handsome for his own good, Matthew. 

Your sister’s ex boyfriend, Matthew. 

Could be fucking any other girl at the party, Matthew. 

Far too young for you, Matthew. 

Your mind was made up. Dropping your eyes to the ground, you let your body slide off the hood of the car. The skirt of your dress inched up your legs and Matthew’s hands reached out to grab you before he flinched back in retreat. But that subtle touch was enough to knock you off balance, your feet stumbling as they reached the ground. It was then your body collided with his, the friction like striking a match–And in an instant, the decision to leave him there in the driveway was gone. Instead, your mind was clouded, hazing with only one thing. Not a thought, but a need. 

Matthew. You needed him. 

Cursing yourself under your breath, so quietly not even you could hear yourself as you pressed up onto your toes let your lips find his. There was no hesitancy in the kiss that found you, his kiss desperate, almost in fear that at any moment you might change your mind. Matthew’s large hands cupped each side of your face, his thumbs releasing the tension in your jaw and coaxing your mouth open. You almost moaned at the taste of his tongue with little care to anyone who may hear you… or see you. 

Anyone could have been watching as the two of you stood there, his larger, towering body trapping you between himself and the car. From most angles, those enthralled by people watching might not have known you were there, Matthew’s body so much bigger than your own that he hid you behind him. They wouldn’t have noticed how his hands left your face when they no longer needed to draw you into the hunger of his kiss. Of how they traveled down your throat, unleashing a desperate gasp against his lips that you were left to choke on as his hand continued to travel down. Down over the swell of your breasts and curve of your waist. Up and over the swell of your hips, and down again until he found the fluttering hem of your sundress. Slowly, a single hand found its way up your dress, his thick fingers dragging over the sensitive skin of your thigh, and he didn’t stop until he was stroking over the thin cotton of your panties. 

Your eyes almost rolled as his fingers grazed so lightly down there that you were sure that he was lost, clueless, that he didn’t know where to put them like almost every other man. But then he surprised you, his hand falling flat against your mound to palm at your clit through your panties. Instead of rolling your eyes, you shut them as your lips pulled away from his to let out a heavy breath that was laced with a single word, “fuck.”

Legs went weak at the feeling, your body ready to fall into him, and he knew it. His free hand dripped into his pocket, and as discreetly as you can unlock a sports car - the front and rear lights flashing brightly in the night - he invited you into the back seat. 

Stomach jumping into your throat, you looked back at the car and all you could hear was your own heartbeat in your ears. Matthew stepped away from you, the hand that was up your dress, reaching for the door handle and drawing it open. He stood there, his body draped over the door, watching you with soft eyes, and s stupid crooked smile as he waited to see if you would accept.

You should have hesitated - or panicked - but you didn’t. You didn’t even look back at the front door to see if anyone was watching before you rounded the back of the car and climbed into the back seat. 

It was cramped, your head almost hitting the hood as you climbed in, and you quickly realized that there would be no sprawling out in the back seat of his car - and especially not as Matthew climbed in after you. He made his body small, sitting in the seat to close the door with a soft thud before he was stretching out over you. The light above you both slowly dimmed, and he smiled a smile that was all to telling. 

This was something Matthew had daydreamed about for a long time. You could see it in the way he looked at you, his eyes soft as they took in every little detail, and his touch lingering on the back of your knee as he propped one leg on the headrest before sliding down the back of your thigh. It rested there once he got you positioned just right, your head resting against the car door, your back on the seat and your legs spread with him between them. Matthew kneaded the soft flesh of your thigh slowly as he leaned in to kiss at the skin of your neck. 

You had half the mind to tease him when you felt the beginnings of a hickey on your neck, but every time you thought you had found what witty words you wanted to say, he was doing something that left you breathless. 

Matthew’s teeth would grave over sensitive skin. 

Heavy breath. 

His tongue tasted the angle of your caller bone. 

You trembled.

His finger coasted over your panties, dipping lower and lower until his fingers were between your legs. 

You couldn’t breathe, your lungs burning for air that you couldn’t bring yourself to take as his thick fingers hooked onto one side of your panties and pulled them to the side. His knuckles dragged over your wet cunt, coating them in your arousal, and he didn’t say a word. There was not a single attempt to be sexy, or some disgusting comment about how wet you were. Instead, there was only the sound of his breath hitches as he let his fingers slide into the eagerness that was your core. 

With your head spinning, your back arched off the seat to angle your hips down, taking his fingers deeper into your core until he was knuckle deep. And when he pumped his fingers in and out of you in uneven thrusts, you thought you might have completely lost your head. Not once in your life had you imagined this happening, nevermind it feeling so good. 

Yet, you wanted more than an adolescent finger fuck in the back seat of his car. 

Both of your palms found the strength of Matthew’s chest, pushing him back carefully. They remained there as he sat down in his seat and you contorted and scrambled to straddle his lap. Your panties still pushed aside, you reached down and unbuckled his belt. His eyes went wide, as if the magnitude of what was about to happen hit him. His hands met yours, as if them bumping into one another and fumbling made freeing his cock come any faster. With the button of his pants undone, you grasped each of his hands and directed them up to rest on each of your hips. 

“Relax,” you smiled, leaning in slightly, “let me.”

He smiled in return, his head nodding slowly as he watched you. 

Your hand left his once you knew he wouldn’t move them, and you let them drag down the strength of his chest slowly. You could feel every one of his muscles through the wrinkled fabric of his t-shirt and you hated that you let yourself indulge yourself in him so fully. As weird as it was to be so close to fucking your little sister’s ex-boyfriend, you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want to…You stroked your hands up and down the length of his chest, working your way lower and lower each time as you leaned in to kiss his neck. There, you heard him gasp in your ear as you let your hand glide down to his cock. You grasped it with one hand, awkwardly stroking at it as you were careful not to hit your head on the roof as you pushed a little higher on your knees to get the angle just right. 

You worked him slowly with your hand, each reaction making you all the more eager to take him between your legs. Yet you waited and watched as his head lulled back on his shoulders. Matthew's eyes shut slowly as his law slacked, and the beginnings of a groan slipped from his lips. That was when you carefully guided him to your core and eased your walls around him with the careful bend of your knees. 

Mentally coloring yourself for how much pain you would be in later, you rode him. Your hips rolling and you carefully bobbed up and down the length of his cock. Quickly, your leg muscles burned, your hand reaching out to the headrest on each side of them as you pushed through the discomfort and focused on the pleasure of his cock inside you. 

His feet pressed firm to the car floor, Matthew's hips raised to meet you. And each bump displaced his kiss as it traveled from your lips to your neck, then the tops of your breasts that threatened to spill over the flimsy fabric. If he had the time and the space. Matthew surely would fuck you right out of it. But now wouldn't be the time - not as you were left biting your tongue to fight back the moans you didn't want anyone to hear; not when one casual glance into his back seat would leave you both exposed if it wasn't for the fabric that flowed down over his lap. It concealed everything you wanted to see. His cock and how it parted your walls with such ease. How your arousal dripped down him, leaving his cock and balls glistening with the satisfaction of pleasuring you. The sight alone would have sent you over the edge right from the start. But it would be his sudden need for control that pushed you over the edge. 

Matthew wrapped both of his strong arms around your waist tightly, hugging your breast to his face as he took your weight and lay it back down over the seat. He struggled for a moment, trying to get the leverage and the position just right before he braced himself on both of your hips. Matthew plowed into you the best he could with the little space you had, the force of his body shifting your body inch by inch across the seat and sending your head into the car door. 

Reaching and up, you braced yourself against the door, your hips raising to meet his every thrust as he arched over you. Matthew's sweat drenched t-shirt hung heavily away from his body, and you could feel beads of sweat rain down you from the angles of his face. You tasted him as it fell onto your lips, your tongue licking it away as your eyes fell shut. You focused on the taste of him, the warmth of his body between your legs, and the pleasure of his cock inside you. It left your body hot and your toes curling in your shoes as each repetition brought you closer and closer… so close–

“Ah, fuck,” Matthew cursed, and your eyes shot wide open as his cock throbbed inside you as he came undone. His face was soft like melting butter as he eased back, his hand quickly dropping to his cock as he pulled from you. He stroked himself quickly, shooting ropes of his cum against the inner flesh of your thigh and the cushion of the seat. 

Selfish prick, was what you wanted to groan. Instead, your hand left the door and dropped between your spread legs. You found your clit with your fingers, rubbing in quick, messy circles that felt more like a figure eight, pushing yourself back towards the peak of your pleasure that Matthew had left you on the very edge of. Your breathing became shallow and hastened as it crashed over you like an ocean wave. Between your legs, your core clenched, and you could feel Mathew’s cum slip from you. It made your legs tremble, your feet struggling against the seat to give yourself the room to close them around your own hand, but Matthew was still between them, his softening cock in his hand and slaw jawed as he watched you writhe in his back seat. 

“Enjoy the show?” you breathed out to him, your finger pulling your damp panties back into place. 

“Sorry,” he spoke quickly, sounding like he was on the verge of stuttering. 

“Don’t be,” you shrugged, sitting up slowly and carefully to avoid getting cum on your dress, though you were sure some had already found its way there, “I get it.”

Matthew fixed his pants around his waist in silence after he wiped his hand clean on his boxers, and after a quick glance and a smile sent back towards you, he opened the door and stepped out into the night. He stretched when he was free from the confines of his back seat, a single hand pushing his hair back out of his face before he offered it to you to help you out of the car. 

“Are you coming in?” Matthew asked you, not even breathless, as he slicked his hair back with the simple motion of one of his hands.

Fucking athletes. They always made you feel out of shape. 

“I need a minute,” you sighed, feeling very much your age. You could feel the ache of sex everywhere in your body. From your fingers to your toes, you felt the epitome of relaxed and tense at the same time–though, part of it could have just been in your head as it raced trying to remember the last time you had sex in the backseat of a car, and when or if your body had ever contorted like that before. 

“Do you need anything?” He’s polite enough to ask, but it makes you want to hit him. Instead, you wave him off with the simple wave of a tired hand. Matthew smiled, “find me later,” then, he was gone, lost beyond the front door of his house to continue his night as a good host. 

You remained in the driveway, your tired body leaning up against the hood of his car. There was a chill in the night air that left the beads of sweat on your skin, feeling like cold raindrops. You shivered, suddenly wishing you had a sweatshirt to pull over your dress. But you quickly had the next best thing, the arm of your friend draping over your shoulder as she leaned back against the car beside you. 

She hugged you tight with that single arm before it slipped away from you to delve her hand into her pocket. When she pulled it out, she had a lighter and joint in hand. How it hadn't been crushed during the hug or during her flirtations over the course of the night was beyond you, but you were relieved. As you were slowly coming down from the high of your climax, your mind racing with the thoughts of what you had just done. It both excited you, and left you feeling nauseous. Smoking a joint with your friend seemed like the perfect solution.

You watched as the tip of the joint glowed red as she took a long drag. When she finished taking another, the smoke leaving her mouth in wisps that were caught by the night breeze; she handed it to you. You took a long drag; the smoke suffocating your lungs and only did you exhale when the burning reaching your ears and the smoke left your lips in a harsh cough. But that didn’t stop you from going in for a second drag before you were handing it back to your friend. 

“I’m bringing Joseph back home with me tonight,” she told you, your fingers barely grazing as she took the joint from you. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, go crazy,” you encouraged as you leaned back against the hood of the car. You took deep and steady breath, the daze of the high already beginning to fog your brain. You smiled as your tight muscles relaxed, a satisfied hum leaving your lips that was maybe a little too loud. 

“Careful,” your friend cautioned, a sense of urgency in her tone, “you know how men get with their cars.”

Your shoulder shrugged carelessly. “I don’t think he’ll mind. I already ruined his back seat.”

Gasping, she lay out on her stomach, her limbs hanging over the hood of the car awkwardly as she gazed in through the windshield. When she gasped, she shot upright, her hand reaching out to hit you playfully as she exclaimed, “you slut!” It was said with great love and endearment. You both laughed.

TAGLIST: @mp0625 , @starshine-hockey-girl , @wingedwheelprxncess , @kurlyteuvo , @couldawouldashoulda50

[inchidentally]

Inch what is your opinion on this clip? https://www.tumblr.com/eightyonefour/762429464940527616/what-kind-of-guyteammate-is-oscar

It makes me sad that Lando isn’t able to find a lot of words to describe Osco ;-;

ohhh anon I know for most ppl this is all so boring and not interesting but the way excitable!nervous!shy!butextroverted!fidgety!sassy!emotional!squirmy!insecuresometimes!pleaseloveme!whydoyouhateme?!seeIknewyou'dloveme!creative!sexualconfidence!HORNY!travelstheworldintechnicolor!babyfever!workaholic!Lando exists against calm, placid, self-assured, does his job well,what's the point in doing less than his best, work life balance, lowkey, rational, good with kids but talks to them like adults Oscar makes me so emotional for god knows what reason ??? ;_;

but to Get Into It, I know this is the choppiest messiest compilation I've ever done but hopefully it'll be both self-explanatory and also go along well w my usual dissertation on something that has no real life importance for me but that makes me Feel Things

x x x

so the main thing with how Lando's stops for long periods to think and mull it over is for two reasons: one is that he hasn't done the usual PR aspect of his rs with Oscar the way he has with other drivers/teammates - and the other is that if he found Oscar dull or uninteresting then he wouldn't have had to sit and think aslfgsaljfgsajl. Lando's rly good with the media and honestly this answer would've been rly easy and quick if he could just say "yeah he's very fast and a good guy! hard worker and solid teammate!" bc it's not like anyone is expecting any more about a guy like Oscar anyway!

and with everyone else, Lando's got lots of anecdotes and jokes and shared activities as well as lots of experience interacting on camera in ways that give fans something to enjoy. it's not being disingenuous, it's just that they can easily tailor the friendship to be useful for publicity.

but !!! it's also the case of all of Lando's friends on the grid being extroverts as well as being great on camera. and Lando maybe could be seen as an extrovert but he's also naturally (self-confessed as well as confirmed by those closest to him) painfully shy and he relies on extroverts around him to help him out a lot. I got this ask that we don't even need proof of bc it's exactly how Lando is when he's alone among strangers or around huge crowds. same with when he has to do publicity stuff all alone the thinking silences stretch and he gets that upward inflection where he's trying very hard to see if the other person knows what he means??

and Osc is very much not an extrovert and while he likes the odd shared activity, he has said he prefers quiet conversation in small groups away from public places. so literally ! the ways he and Lando are compatible are simply in enjoying spending time together and being extremely low pressure friends who don't like the publicity aspect encroaching on that.

so how do you describe someone to a stranger if they're just quietly a good, reliable person who you like and work well with ?? Oscar himself needs a fair amount of prodding and encouragement to describe himself, let alone Lando being asked to do it !!

which I think is why landoscar has actually had this strong resonance for a lot of us who have those kinds of friendships or love those kinds of people - you can only see it and get to know it by observing it and knowing it in a way yourself. the way Oscar stares at Lando and does his little self-assigned duties to Lando and the way Lando watches Oscar in that wide-eyed trusting way and lets his brattiness out bc Oscar will always find it endearing. none of that makes for snappy PR content but if you get the vibes then it's so so sooooooo sweet ;__;

it's also why their dynamic lends itself so much to fic authors bc you've got a strong foundation of their authentic dynamic since they can't/don't fake it or play it up, from which you can put them in any scenario or any roles and they just… write themselves! not in a sense that the author isn't putting the work in as a writer skfgalsfg but the strongest thread among landoscar fic is that dynamic always coming through so consistently (even in the more challenging dark fic or out there AUs) the classics I can think of first off are playdate by debrief, that one from work can come over on monday night by higgsbosonblues and q&a by corsi

the common development of how Oscar is so blatantly changed by Lando in ways that seem either superficial or purely practical so that Lando ends up initially missing out on the depth of what that means - and misinterpreting Oscar not changing emotionally for him as disinterest. only to find that when someone who is solid and reliable and knows who they are decides they love you, they show it by changing their life for you and not changing themselves for you.

and that irl considering that Oscar always says how important it is for his relationship with Lily that he spend time with her that isn't connected to his career/life's passion, it's clear that he considers that to be proof of how much he cares. so all of the little ways Oscar bends and adapts and fulfills Lando's practical needs are ways for him to say "I value you" "I make you a priority in my life" "I want to fit you into my life" "I am willing to give up something/change something for you"

like idk how much Lando realizes the significance of those things and that's how I interpret him spending a very long time mulling and thinking rather than just getting past the answer in a neat, succinct way. bc Max F is a very emotionally intelligent guy and very capable of expressing his feelings, all of the guys on the grid are varying levels of emotional awareness/intelligence but they all have the same regular expectation of using their words to express how they feel about friends, and ofc the people surrounding Lando for the past ten years are highly attenuated to his needs. Oscar stands out as this very very different person to what he's used to!

and lastly, there's the whole gentleness and communicating through their kitten smiles and their ways of getting lost on a random subject - they're just such a quiet, gentle introverted dynamic. there's this moment after Japan last year waiting for a train, as well as this moment from Vegas where the crowd is singing happy birthday to Lando that I think are like, poetic levels of how their shyness/introversion fully matches up. bc neither of them feels easy or comfortable actually interacting with the crowd, so they keep looking to each other and smiling for comfort and reassurance. if another driver from the grid were around they could probably rely on him to brazen out the situation, but these two kittens just find solidarity in each other to get through!

so a lot of what makes landoscar a flop for bromance-only ppl is what a lot of us love about it <3<3<3 like I love a good bromance and self-aware PR ships too but landoscar made me want to get an f1blr and write insane pointless dissertations about them so shrug emoji !!

[glisten-inthedark]

Stranger Things ships | Understanding, Love and Hope

One pattern I've noticed in all the ships of the show when it comes to what they're showing us, telling us and what's implicitly there.

Lucas and Max

Lucas and Max's relationship evolves during season 4 and we see how Lucas can now grasp the pain Max was in, he can admit that he knew something was wrong but didn't fight her on it when he should have.

He stays steady by her side, and he alongside all of the people she loves, are enough to give her hope.

Lucas doesn't make her feel more guilty, or more broken. Instead, the memories she has of him, the love she feels towards him, makes her feel like she can escape, that all she has to do is run towards the light. That she can persevere in spite of all the pain she was in.

Lucas makes Max feel seen.

Hopper and Joyce

Hop wanted Joyce to feel safe in Hawkins, he wanted her to believe that city could still be her home. He wanted to be by her side, and he could understand her grief and her pain and could listen to her without patronizing her about it.

But, he could also admit when he was wrong, when he was being stubborn and not listening to her.

And Joyce... All she had to do was get one weird doll with a message to believe Hop was alive, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. In despite how seeing things go down the way they did, she still somehow knew it was him.

Joyce didn't need any more proof, and she never stopped looking for him and hoping, knowing, she'd find him.

Jonathan and Nancy

Jonathan understood Nance's guilt over Barbara's death, he understood the weight she carried even though she never told him about it.

He never made light of it, never made her feel like she had to fake, instead he gave her the chance to do the opposite of that. He listened to her when no else would, and they understood each other without having to communicate verbally more often than not.

More than once, we see Jonathan lying so he can allow Nancy tk be happy, even if it means sacrificing his own happiness.

Mike and El

We are shown, very early on, that Mike and Eleven don't understand each other. And how could they, when she spent all of her life stuck in a lab?

But as time goes on, we learn they still don't understand each other at all. Mike doesn't understand El's deepest fears, her insecurities.

El doesn't acknowledge the bullying Mike has been a victim of most of his life.

They talk to each other, but they don't communicate and to be frank they don't seem to make an effort to understand each other.

Mike doesn't even go after El every time she's upset with him or about something else.

Mike literally makes El feel bad about herself, he makes her feel like he doesn't love her because he doesn't show he loves her. El literally talks about how she she felt like Mike was scared of her, it doesn't matter that he wasn't, what matters is that how he made her feel. Like she's a monster, a mistake.

Another point is that we are shown, also early on, that Mike has in fact stopped looking for El. He never searched for her, he called her, but he never went to freaking woods in a attempt to find her.

Mike doesn't listen to Eleven, he doesn't even make an effort to understand where she's coming from, to empathize with her.

We are not shown Mike fighting for El, or even wanting to fight for her. We are not shown him understanding El or hoping for her.

In fact, we are shown the opposite.

Mike and Will

Ok, this is me being unbiased ok? I swear.

From the onset, Mike doesn't stop looking for Will. It doesn't matter that there's a body, it doesn't matter what they say, he doesn't stop. He knows, deep in his bones, that the boy isn't his Will, and doesn't stop looking for him until he finds him.

Mike can apologize to Will without anyone demanding that from him like we see happening in season 1. He can admit to being in the wrong, to acting like an self pitying ass.

Will understands Mike's fears. He understands the core of who Mike is without Mike having to say anything.

Mike makes Will feel like he's not a mistake, like he has the strength and courage to fight. He makes Will feel good about himself, and Mike doesn't feel like Hawkins is home without Will there.

Will lies so Mike can be happy, he sacrifices his own happiness for Mike's.

Mike makes Will feel hope.

Mike can't help but hope when it comes to Will.

[merinsedai]

Thank you, @ficreadingchallenge for this fun little bingo challenge this summer! Some of these, I could have filled multiple times and some I had to have a search for, but all part of the fun!

1. Under the influence: Spoils of War by @seiya-starsniper [E] Aphrodisiacs! Starting strongly with the smut. Kinda feral for this piece, multiple rereads. Hob is not a good man but he is good in bed. Dream has not spoken since he arrived. How long ago that was I don't know, but I'm in awe of the pettiness. Excellent, love it. Very much E (and probably not the only one on this list...)

2. Newest fic in the tag of your choice: listen, I'm very one-track minded. Dreamling has basically been the only tag of my choice for the past two years. So, the newest fic when I decided to do this square was: Dream Ship by @often-adamanta [E] A spicy little tale set on a space ship which Dream controls and Hob's his muscle. They're a new partnership and Dream's not happy about it so he's giving Hob the silent treatment. Queue Hob taking some alone time, Dream accidentally interrupting and Hob having no privacy issues at all. The start of something beautiful, no doubt.

3. Inspired by another fanwork: I'll Go To Sleep and Dream Again by @chaosheadspace [E] which is inspired by Shelter by softestpunk. An accidentally human Dream has need of the help of Hob Gadling to help him navigate life as a human (eg facial hair, food, and morning wood), regain his Endlessness and recover his tools. Whilst falling in love and having some hot sex ofc. Also, a lot of lovely petnames.

4. Mistaken Identity: As a Stranger I Know Myself by @phinofthestorm and @sleepsonfutons [E] Could be no other choice for this square. Gripping drama, mysteries, feeeeelings, smut (obvs), plentiful existential angst, and shit goin' down. Featuring Jessamy the raven knocking her head against the wall; Burgess's cane; name repetitions; everyone having A Time of it; side characters Shipping Them Too; oh, and a main character you don't expect to like as much as you do...

5.Slow Burn: What Dreams May Come, When Living is at an End by Sebena [T] This fandom is slow burn central, but this is the fic I'm currently in the middle of, and I'm quite enamoured with the relationship between Knight Hob and Morpheus, and it's beautifully descriptive. Plus some lovely pieces of art by @teejaystumbles A real treat.

6. Dressing Up: Make it Count by @arialerendeair [E] Dream gets to dress Hob up very nicely for posh dinners aboard the world's most famous ocean liner in this wonderful Titanic AU. Dream gets to dress down, too! A longer fic but absolutely gripping! Could also use Aria and Konstadt's Colour Forecasting [E] for this square. There's lots of fancy tailoring and clothing choices going on here. And lots of smut, relationship navigation and lots and lots of kissing.

7.Author's oldest fic: Metamorphosis by @windsweptinred [M] Delightful fic about-yes- the metamorphosis of Dream and Hob into Something Else. Starts with high drama as Dream is about to take Death's hand as the Kindly Ones are ravaging the Dreaming and takes things in a very different direction. There's stunning artwork on each chapter that really adds to the reading experience!

8. Small Fandom (<1000 fics): In Which Cat/Cow Is Not A Yoga Pose by @temve [E] ok, technically a crossover with The Sandman (although for pure Aldrich Kemp there's A Fishbowl, a Forklift, and a Friend: or, Who Hired Aldrich Kemp? which I read back in April, so doesn't count for the summer challenge) Temve has Aldrich's voice down to a T and her humour is so on point. I laughed out loud many times in both these fics.

9. Gift Giving: For Your Affection by @cuubism [T] short and sweet little fic by cuubism dealing with high larceny as a love language. cuubism's writing is so joyful, the playfulness she often gives to her Dream brings me great happiness and there's no exception here.

10.Enemies to friends/lovers: Tower and Rose by @moorishflower [E] Beauty and the Beast style 'au' with a magic tower, a mysterious lord, a plucky peasant Hob, an 'imprisonment', a terror stalking the grounds and many, many questions. Why are all the servants ravens? Twists and turns a plenty, and some fun eldritch sex sprinkled in.

11.Lyric Title-listen to the song, too!: please wake me/for my love lies patiently by @beatnikfreakiswriting [E] sequel to the also-having-a-song-lyric title, would you let me know...? aka fics that live rent-free in my head after having rewired my brain. Featuring the most relatable Hob ever, copious interesting facts in the author's notes, and a Dream who would have scared the shit out of me if he'd been my lecturer but is hot af and needs lots of love really. Lots of scorching smut too. Is this a theme? Obviously. Bonus that each chapter, and the series title, have song lyric titles too.

12.de-aging/kidfic England and Nowhere (Never and Always) by @dsudis [M] The last fill on my card, and one I had to search for. And I'm glad I did. I'm about 1/2 way through so don't know the resolution but a lot of it is very soft, especially Dream's relationship with the changeling toddler, Finn. Finn feels very much like a real little boy in his actions and his dialogue. I'm very much enjoying this fic.

FREE SPACE: literally anything by @tj-dragonblade fluff and smut and pure delight.

13.character study: Unsent Letters, Nameless Stranger by @rainbowvamp [M] letters from Hob to Dream throughout the centuries detailing the evolution in Hob's thoughts, attitudes and feelings towards his life, his history and mostly, his feelings for Dream (aka a lot of pining). I'm about halfway through the letters so far and am looking forward to getting back to them.

14.happy ending: My Fair Gadling by @zigzag-wanderer [E] a work in progress, so we haven't reached the happy ending yet, but I have faith in the author and this absolutely wonderful fic. Hob has such a strong narrative voice, he is a delight to read and so, so funny. I laugh out loud constantly in all of ziggy's fics, whether that's the dialogue or the hilarious analogies and metaphors. Professor Morpheus is a study in buttoned up sadness to begin with, but just wait until he's unleashed. He's unbearably sexy when he rolls his sleeves up and fixes car engines at the side of the road, and endearingly earnest in bed. I eagerly await every chapter (especially to find out what outfit Hob has shimmied into that day).

15.Secret Relationship: Risk and Reward by @signiorbenedickofpadua [E] absolutely cracking Regency au. Lord Morpheus spends a lot of time early on feeling mildly fevered. It's probably nothing to do with his new house guest, Mr Robert Gadling, right? These guys slowly, so slowly move towards Something Special. There is the ultimate thrill of finger brushing; the admiration of shapely legs and the highly charged Shakespeare reading. Also balls, duels, painting, stargazing, horse riding and misuse of biblical quotes. And I'm only half way through! The relationship is of necessity given the time period, secret. At the point I'm at, it's finally begun in earnest and I'm excited to see where the plot takes them next!

16. Angst: Exit Wounds by @valeriianz [T] There are many angst-ridden fics in this fandom, and I am a sucker for angst. I love it and seek it out. This fic by sanyumi tore my heart out, stomped all over it and then threw it in the river for good measure. Sometimes you just need to feel destroyed and this delivers.

17. Omegaverse AU So Tell Me Where To Put My Love by @seiya-starsniper [E] Another of my favourite au topics! This starts out with an unhappily arranged marriage, secrets and angst and lots of miscommunication and then explores the developing relationship between Hob and Dream; Dream getting to feel empowered; more miscommunication; knitting; Hob getting to be incredibly rude to Dream's mother, and a very happy ending. Could have tagged loads in this square. Special mentions to i have no fear of time / for who knows how my love grows? by @gabessquishytum [E] for pure horny good times most centuries; and also the incomparable Lover, Be Good to Me by @omgcinnamoncakes which I haven't actually read this summer but which hasn't left my brain. The ultimate omegaverse slowburn and healing fic. Wonderful.

18. High School/College au: Dr Hardass and Professor Sweetheart by crimandclove [G] an outsider pov look at Hob and Dream, who are both professors at the same university (and also married, of course, though the protagonist doesn't know it). And by the same author: Coincidence, [T] which is the story of how Dream and Hob met and became friends in high school. Pure nostalgia for me and Hob is such a delightful pov character to follow. Unfinished but with a full synopsis of how the story would have gone.

19. Road Trip: The Blood of Bucephalus by @llflorence [E] no actual roads, but these guys sure go on a journey. Set in ancient times, with shades of Alexander the Great. Except it's king Morpheus and his loyal soldier (and lover) Hob. Featuring Hob being mostly bewildered about what's going on and Morpheus being the most tight lipped monarch in existence. Also featuring a love for horses and Morpheus's unquenchable desire to travel incognito. Written with the same tenderness, intensity and mystery that is Lis's hallmark.

20. New author (<1 year) Coma Dreams by TheTroubleWithTribbles [M] a fic I had to actively search for but very much enjoyed reading. Some domesticity, Dream being caring, Matthew being traumatised, and Hob enjoying an extended trip to the Dreaming. Featuring some laugh out loud moments, Dream with broccoli patterned oven gloves and Hob being free with terms of endearment.

21. Crossover or fusion fic: Half Asleep, Half Waking by @softest-punk [G] again, I could have chosen fics by softestpunk to fill most of the spaces on this grid! Isn't their writing delightful? Such warmth and such range. Something for whatever you're in the mood for. Am in awe. Anyway, this is a crossover between The Sandman and Rivers of London. I didn't know the RoL books, but after reading this I listened to them on audible and came back to the fic. Very enjoyable- thanks, Cecil! Nightingale is my favourite character from RoL and I loved his relationship with Hob. And Hob gently chiding Molly and Nightingale to get their acts together, ha!

22. Superpowers/no powers Au: Here in the Darkness by @cuubism [M] Since we've got one 'super' character, and one 'normal' character in Dreamling, I chose cuubism's reverseverse fic where they've switched around. Good grief, it was good. Hope is a ray of sunshine, eh? He's just going around being lovely and offering hope, and being kind to Morpheus. And then gets captured and treated horrifically for a century. There's plenty of angst, Morpheus being snitty, then depressed, then a vengeful angel and then they get some softness. It's pure cuubism magic: it's fucking brilliant.

23. Only One Bed: The Chase by @imnotcrying-ipromise [M] I followed along with this story as it was being published early last year, and it was a wild ride of emotions and cliffhangers! Not only is there only one bed, there is a hunt across the country, a wonderful yet dangerous connection, and of course, some falling in love. It's such a fun and thrilling tale: a unique concept with a menacing villain. The sense of peril is real: for our canon characters and some lovely ocs we meet, too. And in the quieter moments there is a lot of sweetness and care between Dream and Hob. An excellent re-read this summer.

24: Soulmates: Destined by @arialerendeair [M] I love a good soulmate au, and this is a cracker by Aria. Featuring not one, but two rescues, a number of villains getting their just desserts, and visits to a Greek temple. Hob is, by turns, a bamf and a gentle, considerate man. He's spent 600 years trying to figure out what the letters of his soul mark mean, and when he does... Dream has spent countless years not even knowing he has a soul mark/mate; it takes a severance from the Dreaming to reveal it, and when he finds out...

[astrangerlately]

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[miodiodavinci]

i saw that you used to hint at oc stuff on twitter (don't ask me why im digging im looking for zola stuff lmao) why don't you post more about them?

i am simply terrified that if i post oc things online someone will steal the concept and run with it faster and better than i ever could have and then i will be devastated forever and ever

more seriously i have very little to show for any of my oc things (adhd brain making life difficult as per usual awawawawawa) and every time i've shared oc things in the past i've ended up never following up on it and it makes me feel bad and guilty so i've just convinced myself i will Never talk about my ocs until i have something substantial i can put out there

[reuptakeinhibitor]

i love stobin working retail jobs and sharing a resume so much but consider this. steve follows robin to bloomington, indianapolis, west lafayette, wherever she decides to go and they get a little apartment. maybe they decide to go out of state but i think they stay in the midwest. then st takes a page from buffy and steve works construction while robin goes to school.

[oceanbilly]

Sorrow's native son

hi, i've never posted a fic and what i wrote might seem strange and unusual, so i wanted to give an explanation beforehand. i happened to read that one page from the stranger things book, max's book to be exact, it was the scene where neil abused billy with a belt and something in me broke and what i wrote was like a knee-jerk reaction to that. it's not really a romantic setting, i think it ended up being gender neutral too (but not 100% sure), i just needed to find a way to make billy less lonely. anyways, i hope there's at least one person who will enjoy it and relate to it.

My finger slid across the different boxes on the shelf. My eyes eventually landed on the one with the sale sign hanging below it. The store was quiet except for the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights. It was getting late.

I heard a bell announcing someone’s arrival. The cold air wrapped around my body like a blanket and I shivered. As I entered another aisle, my eyes fell on Billy Hargrove.

Our paths rarely crossed, yet his sight was uncomfortably familiar. Back in high school, he always made sure to be obnoxious enough to be noticed by everyone. He was loud and bold. Liked showing off his body even in the most inappropriate places and despite the dreadful weather, as if he was rebelling against Hawkins for the sake of it. He liked being intimidating and feared. He liked being admired.

All of that used to make an impression, until the thin veil of bullshit dropped and I saw the nasty truth.

Not long after graduation, when I was walking down Cherry Lane, I saw him carrying a big box out of the back door of his house. I wouldn’t pay much attention if it wasn’t for his father, who was walking closely behind him, pushing him to go faster. When Billy tripped and the box fell with a loud clash, I stopped. I wasn’t planning on helping – it was sheer curiosity more than anything else.

Before even a thought could pass my mind, his father’s booming voice rang in my ears. His mouth danced around the word ‘useless’ like he was used to it, like it was his favorite word and saying it caused him great pleasure. I wanted to scowl and move on, telling myself that it was none of my business, but a pained noise made me freeze. A heavy boot collided with Billy’s ribs once, twice, three times and I felt every kick in my own body. His father spat on him, yelled a few more offensive words and left. I saw Billy push himself up until he was on his hands and knees. His head hung low as he took a few deep breaths. I didn’t know what I should do, or if I should even do anything at all. Billy, however, decided for me, because when he raised his head, his cold eyes pierced through mine and I knew I shouldn’t get close.

In that position on the ground, he seemed like a wounded animal, glaring at me silently. I felt like an intruder. I looked away and forced my feet to start moving again. I walked, but it was harder now, slower, because of the heavy guilt that kept weighing on my shoulders.

After that day, I saw him everywhere. It was like I was being punished for what I did. Or didn’t do. His sight alone always brought back the shame and the guilt.

Right now he was browsing the medicine shelf. He picked up the aspirin and then put it back down. He pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill out of his pocket and looked at it like it was offending him. He also looked different. His hair was gathered in a bun, and instead of his usual showy outfit, he was clothed in sweatpants, a plain t-shirt and a red plaid shirt thrown on top of it. It hung loose on him, too, and it was dripping wet. I looked outside the window, where the heavy November rain was wreaking havoc. He eventually stuffed the money back into his pocket and put the bottle down. He huffed, irritated, and stormed out of the store.

I bit my lip nervously. I quickly grabbed the aspirin and made my way to the checkout. When I went outside, I saw him walking slowly down the street. He wasn’t in a hurry, like there was nowhere he was supposed to be in this nasty weather. His figure illuminated by the street lamps seemed small.

I chased him down and stopped in front of him, successfully cutting him off. I pushed the bottle of aspirin into his hand. He furrowed his brow and looked confused for a second, before his features were clouded by anger.

‘I don’t need fucking charity,’ he spat.

‘Take it or don’t, I don’t give a shit.’ Lies.

Billy has been all I could think about. Every time I saw him in public with his father, my heart sank. It was easy to miss – the light shoves, the way Billy never really looked him in the eye. Whenever I saw him, my mind immediately recalled the image of Billy on his lawn. It was burned into my brain and it paired well with the pang of guilt somewhere in my chest.

He also seemed to remember this moment well, because whenever he spotted me in town, his body tensed and he turned his head away. We never actually talked, but his posture was a warning in itself.

Billy clenched his jaw, but his hand tightened on the bottle. The dim orange light couldn’t hide his swollen eye and a bruised cheekbone. He opened the bottle and took out three pills. I dug in my shopping bag for a water bottle, which I passed it to him. This time he accepted it without any biting remarks. My gaze flickered down to his hands and one look at his clean knuckles told me everything I needed to know. He swallowed the pills.

‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift,’ I said and pushed past him to go get into my car.

I half expected him to just leave and not look back, maybe flip me off as a goodbye, but to my surprise he slipped into the passenger seat next to me. I took in his face which scrunched up in pain for a second, but he schooled it very fast. The raindrops slid down his cheek.

Billy didn’t seem like the person who could simply accept help. It wasn’t taught to him. His pride got in the way too. His whole body was stiff, like he was ready to bolt any second. Like he was still on the verge of making his final decision. However, these last gruelling months have taught me that he also had a strong survival instinct. If he did something uncharacteristic – he did it out of pure need.

‘So what, you just pity me? Is that it?’ His voice was low and quiet. There was a layer of anger to it. This situation was taking away his control and he didn’t like that.

‘No,’ I replied, starting the engine and pulling out onto the road. ‘I pity your dad.’

‘For having a useless son?’ He asked louder now. The cool mask of anger was cracking, allowing the anxiety to seep through. From the corner of my eye I could see the end of his sleeve gripped tightly in his hand. I flinched at the word. It was now my least favorite word.

‘For being a braindead pissbucket.’ I spat. ‘I believe it’s incurable.’

I risked a quick glance at him and found him staring at me like I grew a second head. He snorted loudly and turned towards the window, a smile playing on his lips. I felt a bit lighter now that he was slightly less tense.

‘Do you want me to…’ I hesitated, knowing I was about to bring his mood down, ‘drop you off at home?’

He didn’t reply, but he shook his head, still looking out the window. I clenched my jaw, eyes fixed firmly on the road. He was out late in the pouring rain in the middle of November wearing these damn rags. He clearly walked for a while and he didn’t have his car. I wondered briefly if his father would be above kicking him out of the house for the night. I didn’t ask where to take him, because I had a feeling he didn’t have anywhere to go.

After ten minutes of silence I pulled up to my driveway.

I got out of the car and leaned down to look at Billy. ’C’mon.’ There was no point in asking. I let him make his decision based on what he really needed right now. He followed me without a word.

I opened the door and pushed him inside first. The pleasant warmth of the house made me sigh in relief. I took off my jacket and shoes, and looked at Billy, who was currently leaving a small puddle on the floor. I walked up to him and gently slid the dripping plaid shirt off of his shoulders. I was going to put it on the radiator in the kitchen, but something caught my eye. His white shirt had splashes of red all over his back. My heart stopped and the shirt slipped out of my hands. No. No, no, no.

‘Billy?’ My voice sounded weak and uncertain.

‘Yeah?’

‘You’re… You’re hurt,’ I said, eyes glued to the blood stains.

He tensed immediately. He didn’t reply and I was worried I saw too much. The most he had hoped for was probably just the painkillers and a place to crash. He didn’t actually plan on letting me in and now I accidentally stepped into his personal space. I was too close to the issue and I knew it scared him.

‘It’s fine,’ he said in a defensive tone. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

I could just let it go. In fact that’s what I should’ve done.

But then I felt it again. It creeped upon my shoulders slowly just to crush me all at once. The guilt. It didn’t let me move. It didn’t let me breathe. After that the panic started to set in. I let him suffer for so long.

I grabbed his hand, led him into the kitchen and made him sit in a chair. I pulled the first aid kit out of the cabinet and I saw it in his eyes. The flash of anger and betrayal, but I have already made my decision.

‘Take your shirt off,’ I said in a serious tone. ‘Please,’ I added quietly.

I expected him to put up a fight or at least make a suggestive joke, but he didn’t. He knew there was no use. The curtain was ripped away a long time ago and he had to accept that. But it was clear that he had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that someone knew the truth.

He gripped the hem of his t-shirt and started pulling it up, but halfway through he made a pained noise and let out a frustrated sigh. I grabbed the shirt for him and gently pulled it off.

When my eyes landed on his back, I felt dizzy. His tan skin was littered with angry red welts. The bruises were slowly blooming all over his back and the skin was broken in places. My first instinct was to ask him if he was hit by a car, but I knew better. And then I saw a few deep red squares that made me sick. The belt buckle.

“Jesus,” I breathed, before I could stop myself. I reeled back horrified. I’ve never seen anyone hurt this badly. I tried not to overreact – I had a feeling he would just run if I did. I suppressed my rising panic and closed my eyes for a second. It didn’t help much, the image already burned behind my eyelids. “I’m gonna clean it up, is that okay?” I asked, full of hesitation. I wasn’t sure how to even approach this without making him upset or ashamed. He was in a very vulnerable position, which could trigger his fight or flight response.

He didn’t reply, but he did give me a quick nod.

Feeling slightly relieved, I took out a cloth, dampened it and gently pressed it against his skin, trying to clean the dried blood away to see the wounds clearly. He flinched, but stayed quiet. I had to resist the urge to just take my hand away, so that I wouldn’t cause him any more pain, but this had to be done.

I drenched a gauze in an antiseptic and with a light hand started to disinfect the injuries. That did get a hiss and a muted fuck out of him, which I tried my hardest to ignore. Looking at his massacred back up close was making me lightheaded.

How could someone do this to another person? To their own kid?

The shame I felt was shattering. I knew. I knew this whole time and I failed him. My mind was cruel enough to make me feel like I was the one holding the belt.

I tried to be quick with the antiseptic, because his body felt like a tightly wound up string, ready to snap at any moment. I looked at the pile of bloodied gauzes and felt nauseous.

I took a few clean ones and covered the wounds, and then secured them with some medical tape. It looked a bit ridiculous and not professional at all, but the aesthetics didn’t matter right now. After I was done, Billy didn’t say anything. He wasn’t really moving either. I could only imagine what was going through his head right now.

I sat down in front of him to check how he was doing and I was met with a very hard image to take. He wasn’t crying. His head was hanging low and he was staring at the floor. His eyes were eerily hollow. Emotionless. There was no dramatic reaction, no sobbing, no fighting. Just acceptance.

I put away the first aid kit and cleaned up the used supplies.

‘Any cracked ribs?’ I asked standing awkwardly next to him. He shook his head without looking at me.

I was conflicted. I didn’t feel like I had the right to act like his friend now, but leaving him alone was not even an option. I looked at him sitting there. His body wasn’t as muscular as it used to be, he looked thinner. When he was hunched over like that, his skin stretched over his ribs grotesquely. He seemed to be a shell of the Hawkins High king he once was. All of his friends who used to worship him left the town. He was alone.

I put the kettle on and prepared some hot tea to warm him up. He didn’t even move, didn’t speak. He was lost in thought. I put two mugs on the table and sat down in front of him.

I wasn’t certain if I should say anything, but when I looked at him my heart broke. I saw my hand reach out involuntarily and cover his. It was cold. His head snapped up and he looked at me surprised.

‘I… I’m sorry, Billy. I’m sorry for what I did.’

He seemed confused. ‘What did you do?’

‘I pretended like I didn’t see it. I acted like I didn’t know.’

He looked down again and shook his head. ‘It’s not your job to help. I manage on my own.’

I squeezed his hand lightly.

‘I know we’re not friends, but… I don’t want you to be on your own anymore. If you let me, I’ll be there for you. With you.’

The look he gave me was indescribable. His brows were drawn gently like he didn’t quite understand what I was saying.  The feeling of support was so alien to Billy he wasn’t sure how to react. I wanted him to know that if he shared this burden, it would get a bit lighter. He didn’t have carry it alone anymore.

He didn’t sob or open up immediately. He did not pour his feelings out to me. He sat there quietly for a long time, but I could see that there was no anger or fear darkening his beautiful face anymore. He was weighing his options, thinking carefully about the secret he has kept for so long. He was now forced to confront it, to look this monster in the eye and call it by its name. He had to acknowledge his pain, really feel it instead of burying it deep under his skin.

The yellow overhead light in my kitchen betrayed Billy and I caught the glimpse of how glassy his eyes were. He didn’t let the tears fall. He didn’t even let his voice break.

All he said was: ‘Okay.’

And I knew he was ready to let me in.

[doriandrifting]

815 Gate: 008 is 001’s “5 star general”.

Season Two shows us Kali’s crew in the very first episode, but it isn’t until Chapter Seven: The Lost Sister, that we meet 008 and her friends. This is episode fifteen of the series.

Dustin: You're going to crack the case, Steve.

Steve-the-hair-Harrington: *cracks a literal case*

Before this interaction, Nancy says, "The answers are here. Somewhere." A few beats later, Steve drops Dustin's bag and we get a zoom in on it. We see a ghostbuster's pin that references their costumes in Season Two.

So let's go back there, shall we? We'll start on Seventh Street.

"They turn to you, remove their [masks]."

This is not to mention the visual parallels between the Mind Flayer's possession and 008's powers:

Regardless of whether Kali had anything to do with this specific instance, as it was shown to be the Mind Flayer, the parallel is sinister. Character symbolism is also already happening from the moment we see her on screen. She's wearing gloves and covering her mouth—a classic sign that a character is hiding something.

The very next shot after that is this:

One grave reads: “Ashes to Ashes / Dust to Dust / Here lies someone I wouldn't trust.”

Meanwhile in Season Four:

A graveyard with a hand.

Ashes to Ashes. Dust to Dust.

Here lies a sister I wouldn't trust...

The police standing around and not seeing anything directly parallels the abilities we see Kali display in Season 2. Not to mention, the dogs in the neighborhood are clearly seeing something that we're not! Dogs in media are commonly shown to perceive the supernatural, hence why the dogs are barking when Fred and Chrissy get cursed, and yet they're noticeably silent when Steve, Nancy, Robin, Max, and Dustin return as a group. The dogs could see past Kali's illusions.

This is more theorizing than solid evidence but, I think Season Four was Stranger Things' Freddy vs. Jason moment. We quite literally have Eddie vs. Jason, and also a character named Fred who tells us he's rooting against Jason's team winning. They've also cast the actor who played Freddy, Robert Englund, as Victor Creel, and there's a cardboard cut out of Freddy at Family Video. Vecna's hand was inspired by Freddy and a whole bunch of other things, so this isn't a major reach (maybe lol).

Anyway, in Freddy vs. Jason, the townspeople of Springwood have forgotten Freddy Krueger. The ones who do remember him are sent to a mental institution as a government coverup. (I'm not suggesting that is what has happened in Hawkins, but the inspiration is clearly there as Nancy and Robin take a trip to Pennhurst to gather information from the only person who seems to know anything about the case. Henry being taken is also covered up by the government.)

Because no one remembers Freddy Krueger, he's been trapped in Hell and unable to invade children's dreams using their fear. ("Dream a little dream of me" + "Welcome to Hawkins Hell") Freddy sets Jason Voorhees on a killing spree in order to manipulate the children of Springwood into remembering him. Essentially the murders spread a wave of panic and Freddy's name gets tossed around until Freddy's power grows strong enough that he doesn't need Jason and can lure them himself. It leads to a showdown between them, yadayada.

So what does this have to do with Stranger Things? Well, we're told that Vecna is stalking his victims. Dustin says he's trying to build a strong psychic connection with them. We see as much while Vecna's in the Upside Down. But until this season, he never shows any of these vision abilities. He obviously always had them, but it seems like maybe he’s been unable to use them because of being stuck in an alternate dimension. Before this, he’s always relied on the Mind Flayer to physically possess characters like Will and Billy, but we don't see any of that this season. Max says, "All we know is this is something different. Something new."

I think, like Jason Voorhees, Kali was helping build Vecna's psychic connection to his victims. Once it was strong enough, Vecna was able to finish the job himself, opening the gates. This would account for the fact that our victims are seeing visions for awhile before they're actually killed. "Your time is almost at an end." Why not just kill them at that point? It doesn't make a lot of sense. There are also some inconsistencies at the name that Max is called. We also see lurking shots of the characters clearly being spied on, especially Mike. A big one that a lot of people noticed is the one in the junkyard where someone is watching through a car window. Who is watching our characters? Could it be Kali and the "cult of Vecna"? Kali is able to travel through the void, just like El, afterall. And maybe it's a coincidence, but Kali takes El to a junkyard in Season Two to help her train. Again, it seems to me like the writers are leaving a clue.

[edit: Someone pointed out that Kali is surprised by El explaining how she used the void, but I think that there’s reason to believe that she’s lying about that. The purpose of the Hawkins experiment was remote listening using the void. Kali is 20 years old in Season Two, meaning she’s 7 years older than El, but she is somehow completely unaware of the existence of the void? That doesn’t make sense, but El had basically no memory of her time at Hawkins, so it was an easy lie for Kali to tell.]

Besides this, there are so many visual parallels between the opening of Freddy vs. Jason and Season Four—the Molotov cocktail being thrown and setting Freddy on fire, a human puppet on flesh strings (“Master of Puppets” + Vecna’s tentacles making him look like a puppet on strings), etc.

Okay back to connections that I swear can't just be a coincidence (To preface this, I'm not saying the characters are aware of all of these things. IMO, most are just subtle clues being left by the writers/set designs, etc.):

When El goes to visit Kali, she walks into the warehouse and passes a giant Upside Down sign that says "To Paris". Next to it is a spray painted smiley face. This season, Jonathan's wall has a Paris sign and a smiley face balloon, and his tapestry is upside down. (The balloon and smiley face motif also floats around different scenes this season—Like a smiley face balloon by the Christmas lights at Benny's when Lucas wakes up. Another link to the Upside Down.)

El also passes a giant sprayed Magic 8 Ball at the entrance hallway, just like the one 010 was playing with in the lab at the opening of Season Four.

El asks Kali, "Are you real?" just as Max does to El this season.

The sign between Kali and El is a red hand and eye with broken lights that make it read "Spiritual ISOR [eyesore]" instead of Spiritual Advisor:

Downstairs, Axel throws knives at a painted target. It's a person with a heart drawn on it. Next to him is a giant spray painted crown. This is similar imagery to Mike in Will's painting this season.

Axel says something something, "You mean the loony bin," which (offensively) connects to the Pennhurst storyline in Season Four. Kali responds with, "Mick, our eyes, our protector."

Dottie asks to play a game. "Awh, come on. Just one hand." Mick's response is, "One hand leads to two hands, two hands leads to three, and before you know it, I'm as broke as Axel." (This connects to Vecna using his hand to curse people and the motif of four. Also mimics his signature phrase: "You will break.")

Axel has the exact mask from the one they slow zoom in on at Joyce's job:

Something similar happens where we get a long zoom in on a news paper stack. Later we see a piece has been torn out and placed in Will's locker with the phrase "Zombie Boy." The eyes have been crossed out in red marker, just like Vecna's victims losing their eyes. We're never given an explanation for how it got there. We're meant to assume a random bully did it. Some have theorized it was Will's crush who asked him to dance, but that makes little sense. But we are shown that Kali and her crew have a closet where they have a collage of newspaper clippings of all the people they're targeting taped to the wall. They've drawn on clippings in red and black marker. There's Xs through the faces of the ones they've killed.

How did Kali escape before the Rainbow Room Massacre? And why does she nearly verbatim repeat Henry's lines to El while asking her to pull a train? (Also note that while El was in the Rainbow Room, Brenner tells her a story about how she needs to "leave the train station." While Kali isn't aware of the story of Nina, it's another hint from the writers about how this episode is connected.)

"He found his strength in a memory that made him sad, but also angry," Henry tells El in the Rainbow Room. Is it possible that Henry had already gotten to Kali? Where did she learn this? (Both of their speeches are longer, but line by line they parallel.)

To reiterate, we see Kali in a junkyard—the same place we're shown that the California crew is being watched from. These are the only two scenes that the writers chose to take place in a junkyard. Not shown in the screenshot, but there's actually giant "NO."s spray painted on the walls inside the warehouse, always next to Kali. They follow her into the scene at the junkyard, and in the initial shot they obscure El with a bin, so it's just Kali in the background with a big 'ole "NO." in the foreground.

There's a door with a red window spray painted behind Kali like the Creel's door. (Although it's much more prominent when El first comes to the warehouse, we can also see the magic eight ball I mentioned earlier on the right side.)

Kali questions El about what she remembers of her. On the surface this might seem sentimental, but if Kali is working with Vecna, the reason behind this is because she's trying to figure out what El knows about what happened.

One character asks, "Yeah, what about a lullaby? Did you sing her one?" Another allusion to Vecna, but also the idea of singing someone a song, when we know music is a weakness of Vecna.

One character says, "You don't kill their men and expect them to look the other way." Kali responds with, "If they find us, they will release Hell." Another allusion to Hell that we see as a continuous theme in Season Four.

Vecna's army is supposed to be undead, and we get an interesting line from Funshine, "We were dead, all of us. Kali saved us here. And here." He gestures to his heart. Whether this is actually literal is up for debate. Maybe Kali used powers similar to El's and essentially brought these people back to life, which is why they feel they owe her (and by extension, Vecna) their service in hunting down her enemies.

Kali torments El by making her hallucinate Brenner:

Does this not sound exactly like Vecna? Is this not incredibly similar to what happens to Vecna's victims? For instance, Max, when she sees her mother? Not to mention Kali's face is completely devoid of empathy, and the half of her face that we can see is lit in a purplish red glow that is eerily reminiscent of Vecna.

This line is the line. In this scene, Kali is talking about her powers, but it actually takes on a double meaning. Throughout this conversation, she earns a lot of empathy from the viewer, but look at how half of her face is obscured in darkness again. Like El, Kali is only showing us what she wants us to see.

Pt. 2

[rotisseries]

everyone debates about elmike like oh they're the best of friends no they would never hang out on their own they don't even know each other, when the true answer, much like everything else about them, is that there is so so much and also nothing at all

[eclaire-went-bam]

bcs i'm aware of how i automatically percieve people, i earnestly try to give the benefit of the doubt a lot. i tend to believe people are Actually Just That Dumb™ when they're joking about something, so i try to get ahead of that & tell myself people are joking when they say something stupid, so that i don't look stupid

all i've learnt in doing that, is most of the time, people aren't joking. they actually did mean what they say, & i made the situation 10× worse by laughing at what they said.

not only does it reinforce the idea in my head that people are Dumb so i need to take the reins on literally Everything, but it also leads people to believe i'm making fun of them for saying something silly & talking to me less, when, if i knew it were a genuine thing they thought, i would have gladly explained it without judgement

but i don't really know how to stop treating them as jokes, because what if they ARE joking so they laugh at me for how Stupid i am for taking the bait? i can't handle being made a fool of, i think i'd rather die

[snowangeldotmp3]

kas!max mayfield

okay, this is a thought i've been rotating in my mind for a while (since vol2 dropped) and maddie (@verymuchablog42) and i were talking about the ever popular kas!eddie (which, while fun to explore, likely is not going to happen)

do you know who is the perfect candidate for a kas figure?

max mayfield.

i don't think max is out of the woods, and while it might not be an exact kas the bloody handed scenario,(i don't think the duffers would add vampires this late into the show, lol) i think we can all agree that vecna isn't done with max. yes, technically el is the one who brought her back, not vecna. but i think max is still the perfect candidate.

reason number one: she's in a coma, meaning she's basically defenseless against vecna if he were to strike again. (unless el is consistently monitoring her, which, from the looks of episode 9, she is, but still!) we know vecna/the mind flayer can possess people, and that vecna possession is way more powerful. we've seen vecna/the mind flayer possess people before, and though he's been knocked down a few pegs, he's not completely powerless. though el is the one who brought her back, vecna could be the one to give max her life back, meaning no more coma.

reason number two: the whole puppet master thing. the master of puppets is vecna, and who's the perfect puppet right now? a semi-dead girl who has a connection to el and will and the rest of the party. vecna could tear the party apart from the inside with max. (and a girl who vecna is now seemingly attached too, both with billy's possession and subsequent death, and then with max's death.)

reason number three: if we assume that max will tear the group apart from the inside, we also have to assume that she will be the one who rails against vecna with them in the end, too. because we all know max, there is no way that she wouldn't be fighting off vecna with everything she has, even while he's the only thing keeping her alive. she's going to make him pay.

reason number four: the emotional potential. god, could you imagine? not only would it break lucas and el (and the rest of the party + steve, robin, and nancy) that their best friend and girlfriend is now a puppet for the enemy, but they can't do much about it. it won't be as simple as 'play kate bush' and it saves the day.

not only that, but from max's pov, it would be emotionally devastating. 'do you accept the risk?' and this is the consequence of that risk. that tiny, seemingly insignificant acceptance, has led her to this. she didn't want to end up like billy, spent her years with him defying him the best she knew how, and yet, at the end of the day, she would have the exact same fate as him. her fate is no longer her own (has it ever been?) and she becomes the puppet for vecna's ultimate plan.

anyways, this is half me theorizing about max's s5 fate, and the other half trying to reconcile the fact that max could very well just, die. and i don't want that to happen, i want her (if she does have to go out) to go out with a bang. a 'fuck you!' to vecna, if you will. but i think if max does wake up in season 5, this is one of the routes that they could very well explore.