#this line ruins some of the like I've grown to have for him

[waningwithoutwaxing]

Wow. He's really asserting that poor people are willing to do any kind of horrible thing to get money. Do you want to know who really can do anything to get more money? Who has no qualms about crushing people and skirting laws to get more of it? Corporations. The unfathomably wealthy. The ones who don't even need more money to live. That's who.

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (8/15)

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

CHAPTER 8: Big Fraud

The Ritz-Carlton in Mexico City buzzed with anticipation as the cream of society gathered for the Almave tequila launch. Rorie stood beside Lewis, her sequined gown catching the soft light of the chandeliers. The ballroom was a symphony of clinking glasses and animated conversations in Spanish and English.

"You look stunning," Lewis whispered, his hand finding the small of her back.

Rorie smiled, leaning into his touch. "Thanks, babe. You clean up pretty well yourself."

As they made their rounds, greeting investors and celebrities alike, Rorie couldn't help but feel a sense of surrealism. Just a week ago, she had been on stage at Austin City Limits, her performance with Lil Yachty still reverberating through social media and music circles.

The aftermath of that night had been a whirlwind. Clips of her performance had gone viral, with music critics hailing it as a triumphant debut to the stage. She unconsciously placed a hand on her still-flat stomach, remembering the moment they had seen those two pink lines on the pregnancy test after such an amazing show.

"Rorie," Lewis's voice brought her back to the present. "Carlos was just asking about your performance."

Rorie blinked, focusing on the smiling face of Carlos Slim Jr. "Oh, I'm sorry. It was an incredible experience. The energy of the crowd was unlike anything I've felt before."

The launch was a culmination of Lewis's hard work and passion, but recent events cast a shadow over their celebration. Her mind kept drifting back to the recent developments. The lawyers had been working tirelessly to uncover the source of the leaked information.

Rorie's phone buzzed in her clutch. She ignored it, having grown accustomed to the constant notifications since her sperm donor's attempts to contact her had intensified.

Lewis sidled up beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Everything okay, love?"

Rorie sighed, showing him her phone. "Five missed calls from unknown numbers. I'm pretty sure it's him."

Lewis's jaw tightened. "We'll handle it, babe. Don't let him ruin this night for us." He leaned close to place a tender kiss on her forehead. "How 'bout we get some dessert?"

"Are you trying to distract me with sweets, Sir?"

Her teasing made her husband chuckle, his eyes brightening with mischief as he waggled his eyebrows seductively. "Is it working? Because I'd love to get you back to the hotel room and cover you in choc–"

"Lewis!" a familiar voice called, causing the couple to turn and face Iván Saldaña, Almave's co-founder and Master Distiller. "C'mon, unravel yourself from the missus for one second for a photo. Dios mio, you're obsessed with her."

"Shit, have you seen my wife?" was Lewis' response, followed by a hard slap on Rorie's ass. She yelped in slight pain, swatting him off, and he had the wherewithal to laugh like the menace he was. "Three photos tops, Iván."

Before she knew it, Lewis was off, padding towards Iván to pose for a couple of photos.

Rorie shook her head, smiling despite herself at Lewis's playful antics. As she watched him pose with Iván, her phone buzzed in her clutch. She pulled it out, her smile fading as she saw an unknown number flashing on the screen.

With a deep breath, she answered. "Hello?"

"Aurora," her father's voice came through, a mixture of relief and anxiety evident in his tone. "Thank you for picking up. I've been trying to reach you."

Rorie's jaw clenched. "I know. What do you want?"

"I want to talk, to explain. Please, give me a chance to—"

"Now isn't the time," Rorie cut him off, her eyes darting around the crowded ballroom. "I can't do this right now."

Before he could respond, she ended the call, her heart racing. She barely had time to collect herself when her phone buzzed again, this time with a text message from another unknown number:

Your perfect little world is about to come crashing down.

Rorie felt a chill run down her spine. This wasn't her sperm donor - the tone was all wrong. Who the fuck was this? Was it the same person from Paris?

"Are you ready to head out?" Lewis's voice startled her. He had returned from his photo session with Iván, concern etched on his face as he noticed her troubled expression.

Rorie hesitated for a moment before showing him the text. "I think we have a problem."

Lewis's expression hardened as he read the message. "We need to talk to our security team. This isn't just annoying anymore; it's threatening."

Rorie nodded, feeling a mix of fear and determination. "You're right. But let's not let it ruin the night. This was your moment, babe."

Lewis wrapped his arms around her in an embrace. "Our moment. We're in this together, remember?"

As they stood there, the party continued around them, oblivious to the tension between the couple. Rorie leaned into Lewis's embrace, drawing strength from his presence.

"I just don't understand who would do this," Rorie murmured, her voice muffled against Lewis's chest. "And why now?"

Lewis pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cup Rorie's face. "We'll figure it out, love. I promise you, whoever's behind this, they won't get away with it."

Rorie nodded, forcing a smile. "You're right. We've faced worse, haven't we?"

"Much worse," Lewis agreed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Remember that time Lyric decided to redecorate the living room with his finger paints?"

The memory brought a genuine laugh from Rorie, easing some of the tension. "God, that was a nightmare. This is nothing compared to that, right?"

Lewis grinned, pleased to see some of the worry leave Rorie's eyes. "Exactly. Now, let's say our goodbyes and head out. We'll deal with this head-on tomorrow."

With renewed determination, they made their way through the crowd, saying their farewells to key guests and thanking them for coming. As they stepped out into the cool Mexican night, both Lewis and Rorie knew that come morning, they'd be ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead – together.

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparations for the Mexican Grand Prix. Rorie accompanied Lewis to the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, her presence a calming influence amidst the pre-race chaos.

The circuit was a marvel of engineering and culture, its layout weaving through the heart of Mexico City. The iconic stadium section buzzed with anticipation, its grandstands already filling with passionate fans. The air was thick with the scent of street food and the sound of mariachi bands, creating a uniquely Mexican atmosphere that set this Grand Prix apart from all others.

During a quiet moment in the Mercedes garage, Rorie's phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from an unknown number:

Aurora, please. We need to talk. - Dad

Rorie showed the message to Lewis, her frustration evident. "He just won't stop."

Lewis pulled her into a hug, then hesitated. "Actually, babe, there's something I need to tell you. I... I had a conversation with your dad at the Austin Grand Prix."

Rorie stiffened in his arms, pulling back to look at him. "You what? Why didn't you tell me?"

Lewis sighed, running a hand through his braids. "It was unexpected. Toto called me to his office, and your father was there. I didn't want to upset you, especially with your performance coming up."

Rorie's emotions warred between anger and understanding. "What did he say?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "He said he wants to make things right, to be part of your life. He talked about regrets, about missed opportunities. I could see the pain in his eyes, Rorie, but I also saw determination."

Rorie's mind raced. "And what did you say to him?"

"I told him it wasn't my decision to make," Lewis replied softly. "I said that you're the strongest, most incredible woman I know, and that if he wanted a chance, he'd have to earn it. I made it clear that I'd support whatever decision you make."

Rorie nodded slowly, processing the information. A mix of emotions played across her face - gratitude for Lewis's protection, frustration at being kept in the dark, and a lingering sense of uncertainty about her father's intentions.

"I appreciate you looking out for me," she said finally, her voice thick with emotion. "But next time, please tell me. We're in this together, remember? No matter how difficult the conversation might be."

Lewis nodded, relief evident on his face. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just... I saw how stressed you were about the performance, and I didn't want to add to that. But you're right, we're a team. No more secrets."

Rorie leaned into him, drawing comfort from his presence. "Thank you for standing up for me. I just... I don't know how to feel about all this. Part of me wants to hear him out, but another part is so angry at him for showing up now, after all these years."

Lewis wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You don't have to decide anything right now. Take your time, think it through. Whatever you choose, I'm here."

"Lewis, it's time!" Rosa yelled, earning a small smile from Rorie.

"Go race, we'll talk later," she told him.

"You sure you'll be okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." After a kiss on her lips, Lewis jogged over to Rosa and his engineers.

Rorie watched as Lewis prepared for the race, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. The constant attempts at contact from her father, the revelation of Lewis's meeting with him, and the excitement of the impending race all vied for her attention.

She observed Lewis as he went through his pre-race routine, his focus unwavering despite the chaos around them. Rorie couldn't help but marvel at his strength, his ability to compartmentalize and perform under pressure. It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

As Lewis pulled on his helmet, he turned to Rorie, giving her a thumbs up. She returned the gesture, forcing a smile despite her inner turmoil. For now, she would push her personal concerns aside and focus on supporting her husband. The race was about to begin, and with it, a temporary escape from the complicated emotions surrounding her father's sudden reappearance in her life.

The roar of engines filled the air as the Mexican Grand Prix got underway and the cars lined up in their designated spots. From her spot next to Toto, Rorie nibbled on her nails, her eyes absentmindedly on a screen, her heart thumping erratically in her chest as she waited for lights out.

--------------------------------------------------

The Miami bar buzzed with Sunday afternoon energy, sunlight streaming through large windows. A woman sat at the counter, sipping a colorful tequila cocktail. She brushed her long extensions off her shoulders as she settled in her seat, her eyes glancing up at the TV.

Lewis Hamilton appeared on screen, celebrating his podium finish at the Mexican Grand Prix. The woman's lips curved into a slight smirk. There was no denying how attractive he was.

Too bad he wanted to be with such a boring, lame-ass bitch.

She sat up a bit straighter, a cocky air about her. Lewis would be so much better with someone like her on his arm. Someone who could truly match his star power.

Her phone buzzed with a message:

Running late. Be there in 10. - A

She sighed, signaling the bartender for another drink. As she waited, she contemplated the weight of the information she possessed about Rorie and Lewis's life. It was a power that both thrilled and unsettled her.

The door opened, and Alexander strode in, his face set in its usual mask of cool indifference. He took the seat next to her, ordering a scotch.

"What do you have for me?" he asked without preamble.

She reached into her bag, pulling out a manila envelope. "Everything I could get my hands on. Financial records, private correspondence, even some additional medical information."

Alexander's eyebrows raised slightly as he leafed through the contents. "Impressive. How did you manage this?"

A conniving smile played on her lips. "Someone close to them who's feeling... overlooked."

"Let me see the files," Alexander said, reaching for the envelope.

She held up a hand. "First, let's talk money. I want more."

Alexander's eyes narrowed. "We've discussed this. I can't increase the amount."

"Do you understand the risk I'm taking?" she countered. "If they find out—"

"They already have a lawsuit against us," Alexander interrupted. "We're proceeding carefully."

The woman leaned back, her posture defiant. "Without more money, I'm not giving you the info. Maybe I'll find another tabloid that values my contributions more."

Alexander's jaw clenched, anger flashing in his eyes. After a pregnant pause, he spoke, his voice low and controlled. "Fine. If that's what you want to do, then do it."

With that, he stood up and left the bar, leaving the woman alone with her secrets and her tequila cocktail. She watched him go, a mixture of frustration and uncertainty crossing her face as she contemplated her next move. The woman's confident facade faltered slightly. She turned back to the bar, her manicured nails tapping against the polished wood surface.

"Another?" the bartender asked, gesturing to her nearly empty glass.

She nodded, her eyes drifting back to the TV where highlights from the Mexican Grand Prix were still playing. Lewis's face flashed across the screen again, his radiant smile a stark contrast to her current mood.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Her thumb hovered over a name - KiKi. She hesitated, weighing her options. KiKi had agreed to meet with her briefly for lunch a couple of weeks ago, but the meal quickly went left when KiKi realized that it was nothing more than a bashing on Rorie. Despite her initial liking for Kiara, she was still too far up Rorie's ass and she didn't need to draw any suspicion right now.

A notification popped up on her screen - a news alert about Rorie's recent performance at Austin City Limits. The woman's lips curled into a sneer as she read the glowing review.

"If they only knew," she muttered under her breath.

The bartender set down her fresh drink, and she took a long sip, savoring the burn of the tequila. Her mind raced with possibilities. Alexander might have called her bluff, but she wasn't out of options yet.

She opened her notes app, reviewing the information she had gathered thus far. Financial records, private correspondence, medical information - it was a treasure trove of potential scandals. But without Alexander's backing, publishing it would be risky.

Was I ready to put that kind of heat on me? I can always go to TheShadeRoom or something...

A familiar face caught her eye at the other end of the bar. It was a reporter she recognized from a rival tabloid. An idea began to form in her mind.

Gathering her things, she stood up, smoothing down her dress. She tossed back the rest of her drink and made her way towards the reporter, a calculated smile playing on her lips.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice honey-sweet. "I couldn't help but notice you're from The Globe. I think I might have a story that would interest you…"

She sat beside the reporter and began telling him about the secrets she uncovered about Rorie and her family.

The reporter’s brows furrowed as he listened, his interest slowly waning. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "I’m not saying it’s not juicy," he began, holding up a hand to stop her mid-pitch. "But it’s too much heat right now. You’re talking about exposing big names, and our editorial team won’t touch it. They’d rather run another puff piece than risk the legal blowback."

The woman’s carefully constructed smile wavered, but she quickly recovered. "So, you’re telling me The Globe isn’t interested in the truth anymore? That’s disappointing." Her voice dripped with feigned surprise, masking her frustration.

"Look, I get it. You want to break a big story, but this one’s a no-go. If I were you, I’d sit on it until the timing’s better." He gave her a sympathetic shrug, clearly eager to wrap up the conversation.

She forced a polite laugh, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Thanks for the advice." With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the bar, the weight of yet another rejection pressing on her chest.

By the time she reached her apartment, her heels clicking against the floor tiles echoed the pulse of determination in her veins. She wasn’t about to let some risk-averse reporter stand in her way. She dropped her purse on the entry table and kicked off her shoes, moving with purpose through the space until she reached her living room.

The room was a contrast to the polished exterior she showed the world—papers strewn across every surface, sticky notes marking key points, and a laptop open to various incriminating files. She knelt down, spreading the documents across the floor, each one representing hours of careful digging, discreet meetings, and favors called in. Emails, private text messages, medical records — it was all there.

If no publication was willing to continue running with this, she’d have to do it herself. And she had just the platform for it.

Standing up, she crossed the room to her vanity where her ring light and phone stand were already set up. She adjusted the light, making sure it cast just the right shadows to enhance her fierce determination rather than reveal the strain she was feeling. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore—it was about taking control of the narrative, about showing the world that Rorie was nothing more than a bum-ass whore who used people.

She opened Instagram, her fingers moving swiftly as she set up the live stream. Her followers were used to seeing her poised, offering advice on fashion and makeup, but tonight’s stream would be different.

As the screen flashed "You’re live!" her expression shifted from controlled anger to cool confidence. "Hey, y'all," she began, her voice silky smooth, with just a hint of venom. "I know you’re all used to seeing me share fashion tips, but tonight’s different. Tonight, I’m exposing the truth behind the smoke and mirrors. Let’s talk about Rorie Hamilton, and the fact that she's nothing more than a manstealing, fake ass bitch."

She leaned closer to the camera, letting the tension build. "You see, perfection comes with a price, and what if I told you that behind every glowing headline, there’s a trail of deceit, betrayal, and lies? I’ve got receipts—documents, messages, things that will make you rethink every article, every performance, every charming interview she’s given."

The chat exploded with comments as her followers clamored for details, but she remained calm, letting the suspense build. "I’m going to walk you through it all. So sit back, grab some popcorn, and let’s dive into the real Rorie—the one who’s been hiding behind that carefully curated mask."

With that, she reached down and held up the first document for the camera, zooming in just enough to reveal a hint of the damning information. She knew exactly how to play this—releasing just enough to whet their appetites, while keeping the most explosive content for the right moment. She was in control now, and nothing was going to stop her from burning it all to the ground.

As she continued her exposé, detailing every sordid secret, the view count climbed higher and higher. This was only the beginning, and she was just getting started.

Rorie’s nerves were frayed, her fingers tapping anxiously against the armrest of the leather chair in their suite. The luxurious comfort of the hotel room did little to ease the tension that had settled in her chest. The room’s atmosphere was thick with unspoken worries, but the muted sound of Julian’s voice on the phone filled the silence.

The emergency meeting was inevitable after Deja Barnes' Instagram live took the internet by storm. Julian, the Hamiltons’ long-time lawyer and fixer, had booked the first flight to Mexico as soon as the situation escalated. Within hours, headlines were ablaze, tabloids feeding off Deja’s revelations like sharks scenting blood in the water. The story had gone viral overnight, turning their world into a frenzy.

Julian finally hung up the phone and turned to face them, his expression severe. "We’ve got a crisis on our hands. Deja’s live went beyond just gossip; she laid out things only someone close would know. Every major tabloid is picking it up—she’s framed it as the inside scoop on your marriage and the most salacious details about your lives."

Rorie’s hands curled into fists. "She’s not ‘someone close’ anymore, Julian. She hasn’t been for a long time."

Lewis sat across from her, his brows knitted in disbelief. "Deja? This doesn’t make sense." His voice was strained, caught between confusion and hurt. "Why would she do this? We were friends. She was like family at one point. This doesn’t seem like her at all."

Rorie’s chest tightened at the way he said "we were friends." She’d known this moment would come, when the truth she had kept buried would have to be laid bare. Her eyes met Lewis’s, seeing the pain and bewilderment swirling in them, but she had to tell him what she knew—even if it shattered whatever nostalgic image he had left of Deja.

"It wasn’t what you thought, Lewis." Her voice was low, weighted with exhaustion. "Deja had her own motives, and I ignored the signs for too long."

"What do you mean?" Lewis leaned forward, bracing himself for an explanation.

Rorie took a deep breath, bracing herself for the revelation she had kept to herself for years. "Deja had a crush on you. A serious one. It wasn’t just friendly affection or admiration. It was something deeper, something… twisted."

Lewis blinked, stunned, and let out a sardonic laugh. "A crush? On me? That doesn’t make any sense. We were all close, but she never—"

"She hid it well," Rorie interjected, bitterness lacing her words. "But I saw the signs, eventually. The looks she’d give you, the way she always found excuses to be around us, especially when things were tough for us."

Lewis shook his head, still processing. "We were trying to have Lyric during that time. She was supposed to be supporting you, helping us through it."

"That’s what I thought too," Rorie said, her voice growing colder as she recalled the events. "It was all a ruse. She was using our struggles to get closer to you. She even joked once about volunteering to be our surrogate."

Lewis’s eyes widened. "She what?"

"I thought it was a joke too, but it wasn’t. Looking back, I realize she was testing the waters, seeing if we’d be open to something like that." Rorie’s expression darkened as she continued, "It got worse. There was this one night—you had a race, and I wasn’t there. When I arrived later, I found Deja waiting for you in your hotel suite, naked in the bed."

Lewis recoiled, disbelief and disgust mixing in his expression. "She was what?"

"Naked, Lewis. She was there, waiting for you like it was normal, like she had every right to be there." Rorie’s voice cracked as she relived that moment, the betrayal still fresh. "I don’t know how she got access to your room, but there she was, like it was the most natural thing in the world. She even had the nerve to say that you two had been having an affair, but I knew better."

Lewis was speechless, struggling to comprehend how someone he had trusted could betray them so completely. He was visibly shaken, running a hand through his hair as he tried to wrap his head around it all. "What did you do? How did you handle her after you found out?"

Rorie’s expression hardened. "I had security escort her out of the hotel, and I blocked her from everything—social media, our contacts, everything. I didn’t want her anywhere near us, near you, near the family we were creating. She tried reaching out a few times, but I ignored her. I thought cutting her off was enough."

Lewis’s voice was barely above a whisper. "I had no idea. I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone."

Rorie looked at him, her eyes softening for a moment. "I didn’t want to burden you with it then. We had enough on our plate with trying to get pregnant, and you were dealing with the pressure of racing. I thought it was easier to just handle it quietly and move on. But I should have told you, should have let you know what she was really like."

Julian cleared his throat, bringing their attention back to the crisis at hand. "What’s done is done, but now we have to focus on damage control. Deja’s gone public with this, and the longer we take to respond, the worse it’s going to get."

Rorie nodded, her jaw clenched in determination. "She might think she’s got the upper hand, but she’s underestimated us. We’ll handle this, and we’ll make sure the truth comes out—our truth, not hers."

Lewis reached out and took her hand, a silent promise passing between them. No matter how messy things got, they’d face it together. But the betrayal lingered in the air, a reminder of how close their past had come to tearing them apart. And as much as they wanted to put this behind them, Deja’s actions had set off a chain of events that neither of them could fully predict.

For now, all they could do was prepare for the storm ahead.

Lewis sat alone in his driver’s room, the steady hum of the paddock outside muffled by the walls. His phone was propped against the table, earbuds snug in his ears as he listened to the interview playing on The Breakfast Club. He knew Julian had warned him to stay away from it, to focus on the race weekend and leave the crisis management to the professionals. But Lewis had never been one to sit idly by when his family was under attack. Protecting them, especially now with Rorie’s pregnancy, was his top priority—even if it meant shouldering the burden himself.

The interview was already in progress. Deja’s voice, slick with false sincerity, came through clearly as she spun her tale of betrayal and heartbreak. "Rorie always wanted what I had, but I never thought she’d go as far as taking Lewis from me," Deja claimed.

Lewis clenched his jaw, his fists tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check. This woman, someone who had once been close enough to be considered family, was rewriting history with a twisted narrative designed to inflict maximum damage. And what frustrated him most was that people were eating it up—treating her lies like gospel.

Angela Yee, however, wasn’t so easily convinced. Her voice cut through the nonsense with precision. "But let’s be real here, Deja. If you were so close to Lewis, how come we never heard about this supposed love story before? You’re saying you were in love with him, that Rorie took him from you, but from what the public saw, you were just a friend. So what’s the real deal?"

Deja didn’t waver, her delusions fully intact. "Of course, it wasn’t public. We kept it low-key out of respect. But I was there before she was. I was the one he leaned on, and when she saw how close we were, she made sure to push me out. It’s not the first time she’s done this to people, either. Rorie’s always been good at playing the victim while she manipulates things behind the scenes."

Lewis couldn’t take much more. He paused the interview, running a hand down his face. He glanced at a small window to stare at the Brazilian race track. Brazil has always been their sanctuary, the place where everything seemed to fall into place. The chaos surrounding them now was a stark contrast to the peace they had always found there. Brazil wasn’t just another location on the race calendar; it was where their love deepened, where Lyric had been conceived during a trip filled with laughter, love, and hope. It was their “zen den,” a place where the rest of the world faded away, leaving only them, together.

That’s why it was so important for him to shield Rorie now. She was working on her latest Nike Women campaign, a massive deal that she’d landed just before everything started unraveling. On top of that, her ambassadorships were piling up, her brand flourishing. He couldn’t let this mess derail her success or put unnecessary stress on her during her pregnancy. Julian was doing everything in his power to contain the damage, and the cease and desist had already been issued to Deja. But the interview, recorded before the legal warning, was still out there, fueling the frenzy.

Lewis sighed, taking a deep breath as he tried to refocus. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, not with the race looming and all the media duties he had to handle. But how could he not be? His family was everything to him, and knowing Rorie and Lyric were in Brazil as well, surrounded by close friends and family, brought some comfort. They were safe in their haven while he dealt with the ugliness of it all. That was the trade-off: he’d take the heat so they didn’t have to.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. Rosa poked her head in. "Media session in five minutes, Lewis."

He nodded, slipping his phone into his pocket as he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable questions. The journalists would be circling like vultures, eager to dig into the drama, but he’d handle it. For Rorie, for Lyric, for their future child—they were counting on him to keep it all together.

Lewis walked into the media building, the energy buzzing with anticipation as reporters packed into the room. Cameras flashed as he took his seat on the driver’s panel, dressed in his black Mercedes team shirt. His expression was steely, the usual playful glint in his eyes replaced with something more guarded. He could feel the weight of every gaze on him—some curious, some sympathetic, and others eager for controversy.

He nodded to a few familiar faces among the press corps. The other drivers were already taking their seats - Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, and Fernando Alonso among them. They exchanged brief greetings, a mix of professional courtesy and the camaraderie that comes from shared experiences on the track.

The moderator began the session, and as expected, the questions started rolling in. Most were about the race weekend—the setup for the car, tire strategy, and his thoughts on the circuit. Lewis handled those with ease, but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone brought up the topic he had zero interest in discussing.

And then it happened.

A journalist from a tabloid well-known for stirring up drama leaned forward, his tone dripping with false politeness. "Lewis, we’ve all seen the headlines lately, especially with that recent Breakfast Club interview involving Deja Barnes—"

Lewis cut him off, a bitter chuckle escaping as he shook his head. "Who?"

"What are your thoughts on the recent allegations made by Deja Barnes?"

"Oh," Lewis interjected, leaning back in his chair with a slight smirk. "I don’t speak on snakes. I save that for my lawyers."

The room fell silent, tension thick in the air as Lewis stared down the reporter. "Do you have any questions about the race? You know, the reason we’re here?"

The reporter stammered, caught completely off guard. "Well, uh, I was just—"

"Okay, let’s go to someone who has a question about racing," Lewis said firmly, turning away from the flustered journalist. "I’m not entertaining it."

The moderator quickly moved on, calling on another journalist who thankfully asked about tire degradation and track conditions. But even as Lewis answered the technical questions with his usual focus and precision, the shadow of that earlier exchange lingered.

Fuck The Sun, and most importantly, fuck that woman.

He could sense the ripple it had caused among the reporters, some nodding in approval while others scribbled furiously, eager to turn his comments into their next headline. But Lewis didn’t care. He was here to do his job, to represent his team, and to protect his family. And if that meant shutting down every attempt to drag him into Deja’s delusional circus, he’d do it unapologetically.

The lush greenery of São Paulo's outskirts provided a serene backdrop as Rorie lounged by the pool, watching 15-month-old Lyric splash around in his floaties. Her sister, Aaliyah, kept a watchful eye on the toddler.

"Wa! Wa!" Lyric babbled excitedly, kicking his little legs in the water.

Rorie smiled, her heart swelling with love. "That's right, baby! You're in the water!"

Aaliyah, at 23, shared the same warm smile as their mother, Marian. Though technically her half-sister - the daughter of Marian and Greg - Rorie never thought of her as anything less than her full sister. Aaliyah guided Lyric gently through the pool. "He's fearless, just like Lewis," she remarked.

"He really is," Rorie agreed, watching her son with pride. "Thanks for being here, sis. It means a lot."

Aaliyah shot her a supportive smile. "Always. That's what family's for, right? So, have you decided if you’re going to call him back?"

Rorie’s gaze shifted to her phone resting on the lounge chair beside her. The text from her father, Martin, had come in earlier that day, and it had been gnawing at the back of her mind ever since. She’d been going back and forth about whether to respond, torn between curiosity and the desire to avoid more stress. Aaliyah’s question brought that internal debate back to the forefront.

"I don’t know," Rorie sighed. “Part of me wants to just ignore it, but… I’m curious. I want to hear whatever bullshit he’s trying to spin this time."

Aaliyah raised an eyebrow. "You sure you want to open that door? You’ve done well keeping him at arm’s length. Sometimes it’s better to let toxic people stay where they are."

Rorie knew her sister was right, but something inside her nudged her toward at least hearing what he had to say. "Yeah, I know… but I think I’m gonna call him. Just to see what he’s really on."

Aaliyah shrugged, "Your call. Just don’t let him mess with your head. You’ve got enough going on without letting him add more drama."

As the day progressed, Rorie's mind kept drifting to the unopened messages on her phone. Martin's texts and voicemails had been piling up, each one a reminder of the decision she'd been avoiding.

After putting Lyric down for his nap, Rorie retreated to the privacy of her room. She took a deep breath, her thumb hovering over the call button, before eventually pressing the button.

As the phone rang, her mind raced with thoughts of Deja's betrayal, the media frenzy, and now this impending conversation with her long-absent father.

"Aurora?" Martin's voice, a mix of surprise and hope, came through the speaker.

"Hello, Martin," Rorie said, her tone neutral.

Martin took a deep breath. "I know I have a lot to explain. I've made many mistakes, and my absence in your life is my biggest regret."

"Why now?" Rorie asked. "Why reach out after all these years?"

Martin hesitated. "I've been following your career, your life. I'm so proud of the woman you've become. I... I want to be part of your life, if you'll let me."

Rorie's voice hardened. "You had that chance years ago. Why should I believe you've changed?"

The conversation continued, with Martin explaining his past actions and expressing remorse. Rorie listened, asking pointed questions about his absence, his current intentions, and his sudden desire to be in her life.

"I understand if you can't forgive me," Martin said towards the end of the call. "But I hope you'll consider giving me a chance to prove myself."

Rorie took a moment before responding. "I appreciate your honesty, Martin. But I need time to process this. I can't promise anything right now."

As they ended their call, Rorie sat on the edge of her bed, her mind reeling from the conversation. She replayed his words, searching for sincerity, for any sign that his intentions were genuine.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. "Ror? You okay?" Aaliyah's voice came through.

"Come in," Rorie called out.

Aaliyah entered, concern etched on her face. "I saw you on the phone. Was it...?"

Rorie nodded. "Yeah, it was Martin."

Aaliyah sat beside her sister, placing a comforting hand on her back. "How do you feel?"

"Confused," Rorie admitted. "He said all the right things, you know? Apologized, said he regretted not being there. But I don't know if I can trust it."

"You don't have to decide anything right now," Aaliyah reassured her. "Take your time."

Rorie leaned into her sister's embrace. "I just keep thinking about Mom and Greg, how they've always been there. And now, with everything happening with Deja and the media..."

"Hey," Aaliyah said firmly, "You've got us. Me, Mom, Dad, Lewis, Lyric. We're your real family. Whatever you decide about Martin, we've got your back."

Rorie felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. "Thanks, sis."

Just then, they heard Lyric's babbling through the baby monitor. Rorie couldn't help but smile. "Sounds like someone's up from their nap."

"Want me to get him?" Aaliyah offered.

Rorie shook her head, standing up. "No, I've got it. I could use some cuddles from my little man right now."

She padded over to Lyric's room, her heart instantly lightening at the sight of her son. Lyric was standing in his portable crib, his little hands gripping the rail as he bounced excitedly.

"Mama!" he exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide grin.

"Hi, baby," Rorie cooed, reaching in to scoop him up. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, inhaling his sweet baby scent. "Did you have a good nap?"

Lyric babbled in response, his little hands patting Rorie's cheeks. She couldn't help but smile, feeling the stress of the day melt away in her son's presence.

On a whim, Rorie decided she needed more than just a quick cuddle. She gently lowered Lyric back into his crib, then, to his delight, climbed in after him. It was a tight fit – the portable crib wasn't meant for adults – but Rorie managed to scrunch herself in, lying on her side next to Lyric.

Lyric giggled, clearly amused by his mama's antics. He snuggled close, his little body fitting perfectly against hers. Rorie wrapped an arm around him, savoring the moment.

"Mama swilly," Lyric said, patting her arm.

Rorie chuckled. "Yeah, Mama's being silly, huh?"

As they lay there, Rorie felt the tension from her conversation with Martin slowly dissipate. The world outside, with all its complications and challenges, seemed to fade away. In this moment, it was just her and Lyric, safe and content in their own little bubble.

Lyric's eyelids began to droop, the excitement of Mama's surprise visit giving way to post-nap drowsiness. Rorie hummed softly, a lullaby she remembered from her own childhood.

As Lyric drifted off to sleep, Rorie continued to hold him close. She knew she'd have to face reality again soon – decisions about Martin, dealing with the Deja situation, preparing for the baby on the way. But for now, she allowed herself this moment of peace, drawing strength from the pure, unconditional love of her son.

In the cramped confines of the portable crib, Rorie found a spaciousness in her heart. Whatever came next, she knew she had this – the love of her family, the joy of motherhood. And that, she realized, was more than enough to face any storm.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

[monkepawbz]

Scars

A Deadpool x (female) Y/N oneshot about Wade hating his body and Y/N comforting him through the self hatred and heartbreak of losing Vanessa. (This takes place somewhere after Deadpool 3!)

"Let me see your face...take off the mask, Wade..." she pleaded, wanting to see Wade's real face. For years he had always kept the mask on, as well as the rest of the suit, and Y/N had finally grown tired of her friend/crush never letting her see the real him.

Wade's eyes fluttered closed as he hesitated for a moment, his hand reaching up to remove the mask. As he slowly removed it, he winced in shame.

"Y/N... You're really going to make me do this, aren't you?" Wade laughed joylessly, shaking his head slightly. He slowly lifted his gaze, revealing the gruesome extent of his disfigurement. His light blue eyes gleamed with a mix of vulnerability and intensity as he gazed at her. "This is what I've become. This is who I am now." The man frowned, not able to look at the woman in front of him.

She smiled softly at him, her eyes full of love and sincerity.

"You're wonderful..." she breathed, reaching up to softly caress his cheek. The mutated skin was rough against her softer fingertips, the contrast sending electricity through her veins.

Wade's expression faltered, his eyes searching hers as if trying to understand her words.

"Y/N..." The merc trailed off, his voice caught in his throat for a moment. He continued to look at her, expecting this to be some sort of trick.

"You're not supposed to say things like that. I'm a fucked up freak, remember? A walking disaster with a face only a mother could love. Shit, not even a mother could love this dumpster fire!" He looked away, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Promise me this isn't some fucked up prank or something...okay?" He pleaded.

She nodded. "I promise it's real, Wade. I think you're incredibly handsome. I just wish that you didn't hide your face away from me for so long..."

She heard him let out a long sigh, leaning back on the couch and slumping a bit dejectedly.

"I know...so much for being a good buddy, huh?" He muttered.

Wade had been friends with Y/N for a few years now, the two of them meeting when he ended up saving her from one of the people he was hired to kill. They hit it off afterwards and found comfort in one another's weirdness. It was a friendship that was deep, however...Y/N eventually fell in love with him. Watching Wade be with Vanessa was one of the hardest things she had to go through, however the relationship seemed to end as the two of them seemed to want different things in life.

"Wade...how are you doing? Are you doing okay since she..." Y/N trailed off, her throat constricting with anxiety. She looked up at him, expecting Wade to be upset. He made a small noise, his lips pressed into a straight line. After a moment, he attempted to smile.

"I'm fine, Y/N. I couldn't be better, actually! I saved the world recently! Got a cool new roommate! I call him Wolfy but he fuckin' hates it. I also have the cutest little puppy in the worls now!" He beamed. Despite the happiness he tried to convey, there was something deeper in those baby blues. She looked at him, scrunching her face in concentration as she tried to read him. His eyes darted around the room, confused.

"What's all this about?" He pointed at her with a gloved hand. She shook her head and shushed him.

"You're lying. There's something else." She retorted, not convinced.

"Fuckin...alright FINE, Y/N, you got me!" He threw up his hands in mock surrender. "I like you, okay? And I've been trying to figure out whatever the HELL I'm feeling so I don't drag you down to the firey pits below with me! I mean, shit! You're a decently normal person and I'm a ticking time bomb waiting to ruin some other person's life." Wade rambled, hurt apparent in his eyes.

Y/N gently pulled him into a warm hug, and he froze.

"What is...?" he was shushed by her as she gently rubbed circles into his back, the Deadpool suit's texture feeling good against her skin.

"You don't have to be okay right now. You are hurt, and you loved her. I'm not asking you to love me right away, or even at all. However, I have to admit I have loved you for many years now. And I think you are incredibly handsome, charming and funny to be around." She explained. Wade hesitated, pulling away and standing.

"What are you saying, Y/N...?" He asked, eyes wide in shock. She looked up at him and smiled.

"I love you, Wade Wilson. I always have, and if you ever want someone to help mend that broken heart...I would like to volunteer. And I love you, scars and all." Y/N's words were soft and sweet, and Wade felt how genuine she was being.

"I...need some more time...but...yeah. I think I would like that, peanut." He gave her a lopsided smile.

"Then...how about this. We can start slow. I can try to give you healthy if you try to give me the same. We can figure this out together, even if it's messy." She held his hand in her own, giving it a light squeeze. Wade nodded.

"Deal." He said, and for once he seemed to actually believe that maybe, just maybe, someone didn't mind his scars.

[jayke0]

Nicotine Lust

Pairing: Jake Lockley x afab reader

Summary: Your attempts to keep your smoking kink under wraps become futile once you're reassured that your boyfriends’ lungs aren't at stake.

A/N: I couldn't stop thinking about @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction 's smoking Steven, so i wanted to do smth from Jake's perspective ❤️.

Also if you know which tiktok lady Jake’s talking about then bonus points to you!

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: smoking, g/n nicknames, I've never smoked so forgive me if literally all of it is wrong, blowjob, face fucking, ‘fucktoy’ nickname, ‘slut’ nickname, Dom!Jake, Sub!Reader, p in v, unmentioned protection, riding, doggy style, creampie, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 4,020 (yeah… I'm pretty sure this is my longest fic yet.😅)

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily. And Fen ofc ofc.

…………………………………......................………….

You hate to admit it, but when Jake smokes, it's like an automatic switch is clicked in your brain; like you're literally being turned on.

It's wrong, so so wrong. You don't want to be getting turned on by something that is ultimately ruining your boyfriend's lungs, all three of your boyfriends’ lungs.

It's only when you mention it to him one day that he settles your worries.

“The suit heals ‘em.”

“What?? For real?”

“ ‘Course! That's the whole point of it.”

You raise a brow. “It's not for you to heal your black lung.”

“Well no, but it's for healin’, ain't it?” He pulls out his packet of tobacco and places it on the windowsill, along with his papers. His fingers work meticulously as he lays out the paper and lines up the tobacco, sprinkling it onto the paper like he's decorating fucking cupcakes with chocolate sprinkles.

“I thought ya liked it anyway.”

You have to drag your eyes away from the man's hands as he rolls the cylinder between his fingers. “What? No... that's weird.”

Your boyfriend cocks an eyebrow at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Really? So that look that ya give me, or the way ya watch my hands ain't got nothin’ to do with ya gettin’ all hot and bothered?” He brings it to his lips, running his tongue along the edge of the paper in a way that makes your cheeks heat up and your arms fold over your chest defensively.

Jake is easily the best at reading you and your body, especially when it comes to your not-so-subtle arousal.

Your eyes move back to his hand, watching him push the filter into the end with his middle finger before rolling the other end shut.

“No, I just find it interesting. It's good for me to know how to roll a cig… I guess.” Your words trail off as you realize how dumb that sounds; there's no way in hell that Jake lockley is going to believe that lie.

“For who? Ya side piece?” He jokes, the smirk turning into a full-grown grin while he brings the now formed cigarette to his lips. It's only when he flips open his lighter and the flame lights up the end that you come to the conclusion there's no point in hiding it… not now that you know they're safe.

“Alright!... I like it, is that what you wanted?”

“Show me.” His lips are pressed together tightly to keep the cigarette in place, but he's learnt how to talk out of the gap in his lips.

“Excuse me?”

“Show me how much ya like it.” The man's voice is deeper now as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales a cloud of smoke, considerately not blowing it in your direction; and fuck if it doesn't make you squirm.

You want to sink to your knees right there, rip his black jeans from his thick thighs and suck him dry, but your stubbornness stops you. “I'm not some kinda fuck toy, Jake!”

“Ya weren't sayin’ that last night, were ya?” The cigarette meets his lips again and his chest expands as he takes in a long drag, not being as considerate with where he blows it this time.

You irritatedly waft the smoke away from your face, but his gaze, oh lord the way his eyes glare at you, a dark stare that pushes you to your knees anyway as if he has the fucking force. Resting your hands on his knees, you part them slowly, keeping your eyes transfixed on his as you slide your hands up his bulky thighs and over his crotch, all while he takes another drag.

“Good fucktoy.” He says with a playful tone as he pets your head condescendingly, the name and gesture ultimately turning you on more while you toy with his belt buckle to pry his jeans open. “Eager, ain't we? I love it when you're this eager, mi vida.”

The smell of the smoke is starting to sting your nostrils, but all worries of second-hand smoke fade when you pull his boxers down his thighs and reveal his half hard cock. “I'm not the only eager one," you raise a brow at him, taking his hardening length in your hand to hear a soft groan from him.

“Oh c'mon, what guy doesn't love gettin’ his dick sucked? Especially from a slut as pretty as you, cariño.” His thumb runs over your cheek, and then your bottom lip. “Now, open up for me, okay?”

His hand replaces yours as you obediently open your mouth and lean forward, wanting to feel him grow hard in the heat of your mouth. His length is heavy on your tongue, the familiar tang of his skin and pre-cum making you hum softly to send vibrations through his cock, resulting in a pleasured grunt from the man.

“Mmm that's good… good angel…”

The calmness in his voice and the way his shoulders drop indicate that even his trusty old cigarettes can't relax him like you can. You always know exactly what makes him tick, what buttons to press to get him coming down your throat in minutes, but despite that, he continues to take drags from his damn deathstick.

Your eyes are fixated on his lips as he brings it to his mouth again, holding it loosely between his two fingers before inhaling the nicotine. He meets your gaze, a shallow thrust from his impatient hips making you pull back with an annoyed squeal; you're not willing to admit how turned on you also get when they're impatient with you, though you're like 90% sure that Jake has caught on anyway, as usual. A string of drool falls from your lips and lands on his head, spreading down the thick, tanned length before your lips follow.

“Thaaat’s it, just like that, darlin’.” He groans, feeling your lips stretch and the warmth of your mouth envelop him. His fingers caress your hair before his large hand eventually comes to rest on the back of your head; an exciting threat that he could push you down on his girth at any point.

Of course, though, he doesn't. He's more patient and collected than the other two, even when you manage to relax your throat and sink all the way down on him.

“Oooh cariño, that's new. Ya been practicin’?” Jake's back arches off of the window, his cigarette back between his lips so his hand can join the other on the back of your head. You pull off with a pant, nodding proudly, “Steven loved letting me practice on him, did you know he's into throat training?”

Your words warrant a growl from your boyfriend as he tightens his grip on your scalp. “C’mooon, stop teasin’ me,” his lip is cocked up in a scowl as he take another drag from his cig and blows it out.

You don't spend any more time fucking around, your own thighs pressing together just from the situation and sight in front of you. You lower your head on him, but don't take him fully, wrapping your hand around what you can't fit in your mouth so you can start bobbing your head. Your tongue glides over his slit each time you almost pull off, with just your lips wrapped around the blunt tip before you dive back down.

“Fuuuck, that's so good. Shit you're so good at that, mi vida.” His praises go straight to your core, making you speed up your actions.

The man tilts his head back and takes the cig out of his mouth, the end now getting dangerously close to his fingers, but he couldn't care less, all he cares about is the wet heat of your mouth already pushing him closer and closer to his orgasm. He takes one last drag and puts out the butt as it reaches his fingers, taking in a sharp inhale when you deepthroat him again just as it burns his finger tips. “Such a good fucktoy, goddamn angel…”

His groans get louder, your head now bobbing up and down on him rhythmically as you twist your fist around his throbbing length in just the right way.

Hand joining the other, he pushes you down once, then twice. “Just a little more darlin’, ya can do it, I know ya can—,” his pants are heavy, low moans cut off by gasps. “Gonna come down that pretty throat, just a little further, sweetheart.” You feel his hips lift off the window sill and towards your face, the gesture making you choke a bit before you take him fully again, fingernails digging into his plump thighs enough to leave marks as your face scrunches up.

It's only a few more seconds and he's coming down your throat, just as he said he would. You can barely taste the saltiness as he moans loudly, adam's apple bobbing in his throat with his back arched enough to feel his tummy on your forehead. You pull off after a few moments with gasps, your chest rising and falling quickly as you take in the air you'd briefly missed out on.

“Ay cariño… ‘m sorry, are ya ok?” Jake's gaze is still lidded and dopey, though a lot softer now, and you feel his thumb run over your cheek.

“Yes,” you say hoarsely, giggling afterwards at the sound of your voice while you wipe the spit from your chin. “It was hot. I liked it, honey, don't worry.”

He sighs, a smile replacing the worried frown his had on his face just seconds before. “Ah, good, angel,” he leans down and kisses you, not caring about the taste of himself on your lips. “You owe me an orgasm though.” You mumble on his lips, feeling the low chuckle rumble in his chest as he joins you on the floor without even pulling away from your plump lips.

”I can do that, cariño.”

+.｡ﾟ:;｡+ﾟ+｡::ﾟ｡:.ﾟ｡+｡+.｡ﾟ:;｡+ﾟ+｡::ﾟ｡:.ﾟ｡

Jake hasn't been out since that morning, and now it's getting to 3 days, and you're worried.

Did your odd little kink freak him out? Maybe the thought that his lover gets off on him damaging his lungs made him uncomfortable.— No, that's not the sexy part, because that WOULD be weird. It's watching him carefully, masterfully, assemble the tobacco. Watching the way he rolls it between his thick digits and runs his tongue over the edge before lighting it. You'd noticed how his eyes close in satisfaction with that first drag, and how his eyelids lower to a more relaxed manner, giving him that deadly lidded gaze that is sure to be the death of you.

The presence creeping up behind you breaks your train of thought, and you sigh contentedly as you feel large, warm hands run over your shoulders tenderly. You drag your eyes away from the tv screen to tilt your head back and look at one of your boyfriends, whichever one it is.

Jake always insisted on growing his facial hair out, but Marc and Steven are so strongly against it that you'd think they have some kind of personal vendetta against it. That being said, it's hard to tell them apart sometimes, especially when you're looking at them upside down.

“Hello, handsome.”

“Hello, angel.”

Blood instantly rushes to your face, and you know Jake notices it, given the way his lips quirk into a grin.

“Took you long enough…” You mumble softly, lifting your head to avoid his burning gaze.

“Ay, I know I know. I ain't really got an excuse.” He gives your shoulder one last pat before moving around to the couch and placing himself down next to you, arm promptly resting on the couch behind your head. “Did ya miss me, though?” His fingers toy with your ear, a gesture that he'd quickly and delightedly learnt annoys you.

Your silence is met by a dark chuckle from the man. “Did ya miss these?” The sound of cardboard rustling grabs your attention, your head slowly turning towards him before your eyes focus on the box of cigarettes in front of you.

“I thought you didn't like ‘pre-rolled bullshit'.” You quote his words with a scoff to hide the excitement already bubbling up inside you.

“I don't, but they come in handy, don't they? ‘Specially if I'm tryna rile ya up again.”

His left leg is crossed over the other in a casual sitting position, body angled towards you invitingly with his arms spread wide enough to make his t-shirt stretch across his toned chest.

“So… you didn't find it weird then?” Voice tentative, you shuffle over to him, having missed his tight bear hugs and calming tone of voice… even if his cockiness does get on your nerves sometimes.

A small frown replaces the grin that almost constantly adorned his face. “No, mi vida, ‘course not.” His hand reaches towards your face, calloused thumb running under your eyes softly. “I'm just as into it as you are, hell, I thought that was obvious.” His low chuckle makes your chest warm and a smile break the pouty look you had plastered across your face, especially when he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“Thank fucking god.”

A deep laugh from your boyfriend only makes your face and body grow warmer, the smile widening before you lean into his lips to place a kiss on them.

“Ya could've spoken to the other two.” He says, hands resting on your waist to pull you closer for a cuddle.

“Didn't wanna worry them.” It's almost remarkable how quickly you melt into their arms, quicker than you have with any other person… ever, really.

Jake's fingers trace your face gently, eyes roaming all over your features and drinking them in as if he hasn't seen you in years. “Ay cariño, you're too kind for ya own good.” He chuckles softly, pressing another, slightly longer kiss on your lips.

That slightly longer turns into much longer, which then turns into you panting into eachothers's mouth, craving one another as if it's integral to your survival.

“Please do it again, honey, wanna see you do it again.”

The friction from your bodies grinding relentlessly together has him dazed, his brain taking a few seconds to compute.

“Oh, angel, so impatient,” he teases as he grabs the box of cigs from the table and pulls one out. He runs it under his nose and takes a big whiff, letting out a loud, pleasured groan afterwards to make you giggle at his silliness, which you do.

You bite your lip, and he puts the stick between his rosy lips, looking up at you hungrily. “This what ya wanted, darlin’? ‘S this what you've been waitin’ for?” His tone is almost condescending, but his words roll off of his tongue in such a smooth way that you're quick to forgive him.

Your hips automatically grind down on him as you nod, biting your lip hard, before you feel his hands land on your waist again, traveling underneath your shirt and over your warm skin until you feel his fingers just brush over your left nipple. The hem of your shirt moves past your face before you can even think about it, your eyes still glued to his pretty mouth as you roll your hips on him to pull those soft grunts from his throat.

“Look at ya, I've barely touched ya and you're all worked up.” He grins as he brings his hand down to the waistband of your sweats to slide them lovingly down your thighs. It's a little mortifying how you don't even question him, how you don't even need anymore working up thanks to a heated make-out session and the sight of the cig hanging from his lips loosely. You lift your ass to help him pull them down, your underwear following suit.

That's when you realize he hasn't even taken his grey t-shirt off, and you're stark naked in his lap.

“This has got to have a name...” You rest your hands on his chest, the feeling of your bare cunt grinding against his jeans making you tilt your head back.

“Hmm?” He asks, undoing his belt buckle and fly.

“Your thing for having me completely naked while you can't even be bothered to take your shirt off.”

He laughs at that. “Maybe, ya should look it up later. See if it's on that woman's TikTok page.” He pulls his twitching cock out of the confines of his boxers, running his thumb over the ruddy tip. The gesture makes you take in a soft inhale, inching your hips closer to him so you can let his cock slide between your folds and through your arousal.

You both groan at the movement, and you watch Jake shuffle in his pocket for his lighter moments later, bringing the small flame to the end of the cig to light it. His chest expands, and then deflates as he blows the smoke away.

“You're so gorgeous, mi vida.” He says softly, two fingers holding the cigarette tightly as he runs them across your flesh to make goosebumps prickle across your arms and your cheeks heat up.

“And you're so handsome, Jakey.” You moan softly as he brings his mouth close to your chest and places kisses all over the expanse of skin, guiding your hand down between your bodies to help him slide inside you.

He pulls away and places the stick between his lips again to take in another drag and admire the picture in front of him. “Such a pretty angel,” he reiterates, feeling your warmth envelop his aching length as you sink down on him.

Your thighs shudder just a little, a pant escaping your lips as your hole stretches around him with ease, used to their girth by now.

“Love the dumb little look on ya face when ya take it, cariño. Ya like havin’ me stretch ya open like this?” Jake's words travel straight to your core, fueling the fire in your tummy as you lift your hips just to sink back down on him.

“Yes, baby, I love the way you stretch me open.”

The moan that comes from his lips is wonderful, and it's followed by another billow of smoke, the cig back in the corner of his mouth so he can guide your hips. You can see him already gritting his teeth around it, taking in sharp inhales as you start a deep rhythm on him.

“Oh baby…” You moan. You desperately want to close your eyes to enjoy the feeling, but the sight of him fucking you with that deathstick between his teeth is too glorious, penance for the time you spent worrying. “Shit, you look so hot, Jake. So fucking sexy…” You groan as he grasps your ass, gripping the flesh and dragging you down on his cock with growls.

“Ya look even better takin’ it, darlin’, ya take it so well; my pretty slut.”

You grip his shoulders, cursing him for being able to push your buttons and make you whine at the most humiliating of names. Your body always tells him different, though, especially as you start bouncing faster on his cock, feeling it hit that fucking sweet spot each time you come down on him.

Jake is panting too now, and he has to hold the cig between his fingers again to stop it from dropping on you. “Ya feel so good squeezin’ me like that, cariño… Fuck this cunt is magical–.” He still has a grip on your hip, and uses it as leverage so that he can start bucking his hips into your wet heat.

Needless to say, you aren't going to last much longer.

“J-ake! Honey… Fuck I'm so close–agh!-.” Your walls clench around him while your hand slips between your legs to circle your clit, eyes opening briefly to get a glimpse at the sight you'd been waiting to see for what felt like weeks.

That's it, that's all you needed as you sink down on him and grind your cunt against your hand, panting and moaning with your head thrown back. Waves of pleasure rush over you and soak through your bones entirely, your toes clenching like your walls.

You release the grip you had on his shoulders, not that he seemed to mind, that is, before leaning forward to kiss him. You don't care about the smokey taste on his tongue because all you want is him, his taste.

“Mmnnn… We ain't done yet, darlin’,” Jake pulls from the kiss and gestures to the half burnt cigarette as he places it back between his lips.

He gropes your waist and pulls you off of his cock with a soft yelp from you, instead pressing you down into the couch, face turned outwards so he can lean down and look at your face. This position always makes you whine, always makes your legs shake as you try to keep yourself up, and Jake never goes easy on you. He likes seeing the way your ass and thighs bounce as he brings you back on him, and loves hearing the filthy noises that are produced in the process.

The feeling of him splitting you open again has you biting on the cushion, your thoughts from before being true as he ruthlessly fucks into you, loud growls and grunts rumbling in his chest and ringing in your ears.

It's hard to ignore how good it makes you feel when he uses you like this. Sure you love the soft and tender moments you get with the three of them, but once you'd felt what they can really do to you, there was no going back.

You're surprised you haven't ripped the cushion cover from how hard you're gripping it, dumb, cock drunk whines and whimpers falling from your lips as the man fucks you closer and closer to another orgasm.

He leans over you, cigarette barely staying between his lips as he watches your eyes screw shut and random gibberish fall from your mouth.

“Ay, my pretty little fucktoy. Ya love it when I'm rough with ya, don't ya?” He pants and strokes his hand down your chest, running all the way down your tummy till he reaches your swollen clit. “Love it when I… when I use ya.”

His strong and composed facade is faltering, just as it usually does when he's getting close, sitting up again to throw his head back and take puffs of his almost completely gone cigarette.

You can see colours dancing behind your eyelids with how tightly they're screwed shut, the way his fingers are rubbing your clit being almost unbearable as you let out cries and pleas to come again.

“Yeah cariño, that's it, cum all over my cock, lemme feel ya twitch.”

An even stronger wave than before crashes over you and wracks your whole body. Your moans get stuck in your throat as you milk Jake of all he has, his own orgasm having hit him after you'd shrieked his name.

Thankfully, he's quick to remove his fingers from your throbbing clit, knowing it gets a little too sensitive after two mind-blowing orgasms.

”AH FUCK-”

Your post-nut bliss is interrupted by a pained yelp from the man, making you crane your neck to look back at him frantically pulling the cigarette butt from his lips and putting it out in the ashtray.

You laugh, albeit sleepily, and watch his dopey gaze drift to yours as he chuckles lowly. “Fuckin’ cigarettes… maybe next time I should get some of those fake ones.” He jokes as he pulls out of you and touches his sore lips.

You giggle and sit up wobbly, turning to wrap your arms around his neck. “I did think when we started that it was a little dangerous.”

“Ay, ya live and ya learn.”

You both laugh and Jake presses his face into your neck, placing soft kisses as he falls back against the couch with a thump, taking you with him.

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @rinverse

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

So I sat down the other day and went through the crane wives albums and some other songs to assign to Ninjago characters and I've finally sat down and decided to write the post out. The content are going to be under cut because this post will certainly be too long. I'm going to go album by album here starting with Coyote Stories and ending Here I Am: From The Listening Room.

(any and all "(X)" are simply links to the songs <3)

okay, here we go!

Coyote Stories

Keep You Safe: in some ways, I like to interpret part of this song as relating to Nya's perfectionism, especially within Possession. The bridge especially and lines "What if the steps I take turn out to be mistakes? How can someone like me learn to say "come what may"?" (X)

Allies or Enemies: this is Jay and Cole to me from Rebooted to ToE. Specifically, from Cole's perspective. The song has a lot of regret and bitterness in it that I just think fits so well. The first verse and second verse ("you owe me ears from dropping eaves"), and the bridge are all so clear to me. The bridge, "what happens now? do we have another go (oh) do we bow out and take our separate roads, I'll admit I've had my doubts (oh) but I want to be let in not out (oh) I want to be let in now out", reads to me like Cole's sudden giving in and desperation in their match in ToE. (X)

Hard Sell: this one's a little loser but it reminds me of Lloyd struggles to keep himself strong and straight with everything that gets thrown at him, all the stress. To be The Green Ninja (X).

Little Soldiers: Young Garmadon and Wu, I think. It's their doomed brotherhood, the way they loved each other clearly as impulsive youth ("on the broken backs of all the words we spared, like little soldiers in the trenches, it was a march we made through ruin and despair but we held hands all the while") but ultimately Wu couldn't keep his brother. The bridge reminds me of the war. (X)

Metaphor: Harumi, obviously. There's really no debate, it's her fake mask as the Jade Princess, it's her relationship to Lloyd even. "I've gotten good at leaning on metaphors, I've gotten good at leaning on someone else's page, I cut my teeth on second hand sentiments, you can't trust a single thing I say" -> princess era. It's a sweetly bitter song, chalk full of implications of trauma. The line "but I always dig up bones in your sympathy, I can't trust a single thing you say" is relevant to her relationship with Lloyd, I feel. (X)

Of Everlong: This is a lovely and very soulful song, short and sweet. It's reminiscent of Pixane, to me, specifically from Pixal's perspective. There's a certain connectiveness in being in someone's head. "and if my lover will not hear it take my voice and take my spirit leave weakened and dig my hole only my lover not I can keep my soul" vs "I do not know if there is anything after this life for beings such as you or I, but if there is, I will find you there. Goodbye my Zane." (X)

New Discovery: Fairly simple and not to deep, but this is a Misako song. Adventurer and explorer, and all (X).

The Moon Will Sing: I want to preface two things, A) this interpretation is very much looser and a little less connected t the full original meaning of the song and a little more based in reworking it to fit the characters and B) Wu haters will be stabbed by my mighty and large sword. This is Morro and Wu, on a level. "I shine only with the light you gave me", the light here i the green ninja prophecy,something Morro latched onto to prove his wroth, who is, who is to Wu. The entire song as an air of bitter grief I think fit's Morro and Wu's story. Morro could've grown up and been something more than a half baked angry ghost chasing a dream from 40 years ago, but he wasn't, "I could've been anyone, anyone." (X) (X) (<- an extra link to the demo of the song!! I find it rather lovely)

(Extra note on The Moon Will Sing, I could also see this being a song about Zane/The Ice Emperor and Vex.)

Rockslide: this is about to be very unsurprising, I associate this with Cole! There's obviously the title but generally I think the energy of the song is very Cole-like, in the fun sense. There's also the lines about feeling the "quakin honey I feel it deep" which is rather self explanatory. (X)

The Hand That Feeds: I'm shaky on this one simply because I don't remember or know her character very well, but Akita. Has a lot of mention of wolves and is a very angry song against systemic oppression (though, in the song it's anti-capitalism lol). (X)

Sleeping Giants: another Cole song, mostly based on the presence of mountains, and the 'calling' aspect of the song. I also tend to associate songs with strong drums like in this with Cole (like Drumming Song by Florence and the machine) (X).

Never Love An Anchor: I've seen this song go around actually, mostly with Misako. Which, I agree with! However, I consider it a dual song with her and Garmadon. Specifically, their season one selves. It's Misako leaving Lloyd at that boarding school, it's Garmadon being so absent even though he so clearly loves his son (and despite his evilness, he doesn't seem to wish Lloyd to follow in his footsteps). The first verse really resonates with me as being Misako, clumsy hands and trying her best, and all. The last verse however, is Garmadon ("I am selfish I am broken I am cruel") and so is the line "With this heart of mine that's guilty not remorseful." If you haven't heard this song, I truly, truly recommend it, it's gut wrenching imo. (X)

Okay! We've reached the end of Coyote Stories. That's 11/12 songs out of the albums, the best ratio we have on this listing I believe. Moving onto Foxlore now!

Foxlore:

Nothing At All: when I was looking at this song, trying to decide who to apply it to, I ended up getting kind of emotional. It's Zane, post Ice Emperor specifically. In his self-dehumanization. I'm just going to list out the lyrics that made me incredibly sad lol. "Happy is the man who wants for nothing happy is the lair happiness itself is desire", "heart broken men long to feel nothing to free themselves from strife handle pain, pain doesn't define a man it sure lends an hand getting measured in the sweeter parts of life". (X)

Down The River: Lloyd, post Garmadon revival and Crystallized. All his bitter feeling towards his father, and the angry abandonment issues. The first verse ("I've been wishig that you'd prove me wrong, that you'd come clean and rue the damage done, restore my faith in you, but you've got no reaosn to") and fifth ("Now, tell me, when you start again where will you house your skeletons? Or will they stay behind? Your settlement in kind?") especially. (X)

Can't Go Back: Zane, post Ice Emperor, again. It's that guilt man, I don't really have more to explain but know it makes me Sad. (X)

Turn Out The Lights: Jay, this is mostly about an anxiety head-canon lol, considering the song is about a racing mind. (X)

Ribs: this song is so Nya it hurts. It pretty strongly connects to her arc over the seasons about self independence, identity, and misogyny. It's her finding her place as who she is, and taking back things as her own ("It is mine, it is mine). Verse three I like to connect to her element being of Wojira's and how that is so symbolic of her place in the team (and why she reflect Morro so well in a lot of ways but I won't get into that), "time has changed the metaphor, now, dust is not the orgin of bone, little girl don't let them sell you any armor all your ribs are still your own". There's also the main chorus, which, god I got sad when I looked at it from the angle of Seabound. "The dark doesn't frighten me I chose to close my eyes, it is mine, it is mine, the night doesn't frighten me I chose to let it thrive, it is mine, it is mine." (X)

Not The Ghost: perhaps a little literal but, Cole in his Day Of The Departed era. Though, it connects to his feelings at the time more than his literal ghost-hood. It pretty strongly captures the depression, low self esteem, and growing urgency (around the Latter half of the song). You could also read some of the lyrics as paralleling the events of DOTD itself. (X)

And that's it for Foxlore, that is...6/10 I think, so not the worst either. Fun fact, this next section is my favorite album as a whole :)!

The Fool In Her Wedding Gown:

Icarus: now who else would this be about if not the doomed siblings of the series? Of course it's Wu and Garmadon. I think of this pretty strongly as paralleling their 'adventures' as young children, and then the war. "Oh my brother, oh my brother, oh my brother, who have you become in the wake of all that's happened here", yeah. The entire energy of the song has that weird sad, yet hopeful regret Wu seems to carry around with him in regards to Garmadon, it's a very loving song. (X)

Fangs: Nya, the entire song carries the desperate anger she has, the longing for independence and strength. It's bitter too, in a way that reminds me of her from Rebooted to Skybound. "I am not your highness, a damsel left helpless by fright, I am a lioness, fierce as I walk through the night", "a man will never know his bride"...and well, she was a bride once, wasn't she? (X)

That's it for TFIHWG actually, I know, sad sad ratio but I am also not suprised because a lot of the songs on this album are rather specific.

Safe Ship, Harbored:

New Colors: this one is really simple, Lloyd, and only because it reminds me about how consistently stressed he is lol. (X)

The Crooked, The Cradle: This is a Morro song, to me. The idea of were you doomed from the start (the cradle), or was this purely because of the choices you made? The line "can anyone hear me? The crooked are smiling, they know me the best" strongly reminds me of him and the Preeminent. (X)

(Additionally, this came to me as i was writing this section but I could also see this song being Garmadon coded.)

Caleb Trask: Oni Lloyd! The entire song is about the concept of having 'bad in your blood' and how you simply have to embrace it. That you cannot let it chain you, that love will bring you back. Reminds me of him. (X)

I Ain't Done: if you look at this from a purely conceptual level and energy wise, this song is very Morro. It's got his vengeful, jealous and vicious return from the dead to wreck havoc vibes lol, the lyrics in a literaly sense, however, do not fit. (X)

We're nearing the end now! kind of! 4/12 ratio.

Here I Am: Live From The Listening Room:

High Horse: Jaya, actually. From Rebooted to Skybound, from Nya's pov. Mostly, I connect it to that weird, unhealthy desperation Jay had for Nya and Nya's desire to be free of it, her own self. "You're a sweet heart, you're a curse, you're a passing grade on a low, low bar, you've got your eyes open, I know your worth, but I've got so many things in my hungry, hungry heart", sums it up pretty well. (X)

Here I Am: This one's Cole, but it's a bit of a mixture on why. First up, it's again DOTD era Cole with all his being forgotten angst and anxiety. Secondly, and maybe more painfully, it really reminds me of his and Lou's relationship early on. Neglected child core, and all that ("I promised myself I'd learn to be the one who leaves, with no more roots to tie me down, it's just a different kind of lonely"). The last verse is strongly reminiscent of his pure stubbornness, too. (X)

Queen Of Nothing: Solidly Harumi, a lot on vibes and mood. It's got a dark, sort of unsatisfied sound to it. The chorus screams her , "Isn't this what you wanted? Time sure feels like it's running out, just finish what you started, queen of nothing wearing such a heavy crown." (X)

Sowing Seeds: this one's a bit more general, it reminds me of Possession, the season. It's also a very moody song, having a tired, haunted sort of energy. It also fits nicely into the theme of consequences in Possession. The first verse ("still as a lake long after the wind is gone, in the face of a thief mashing ground to mud, still as a street long after the work is done, as he gnashes his teeth, as he cuts it up, cuts it up") heavily reminds me of Morro. (X)

Hollow Moon: fairly simple, Hollow Moon reminds me of Cole's fear on DOTD. It's got that spooky and paranoid sort of energy. (X)

The Wolf: this both a Harumi and Morro, bearing that bitter, self destructive energy. (X)

Now, that concludes all the albums thus far, and I know I sad we'd leave off on HIA:LFTLR, however, I am a lair. There's a couple songs that aren't on albums that's be a shame not to mention.

Margaret: this is Misako, in her loss of her husband, and her trails to find a way to fix things. "She's breaking her knuckles on truths that keep her awake, and she's tired but her jaw is set, she won't lose any more of the heart she still has left, so she says a prayer pulls the covers near and waits, Margaret won't sleep tonight." Lovely song. (X)

Scars: this is a newly released song! I believe it connects back to Never Love An Anchor, and as such, it fits Lloyd very well. Specifically in relation to Garmadon, post revival. It so so fits all that anger in him at his dad ("cause I was born with a whole in my heart, yeah, we were fucked from the start, tell me it's inevitable I'd end up with scars from falling down, down, we were always meant to fall apart"). (X) (X) (<- the second is a live audio recording that is personally my favorite!)

Okay, no we're done! Anyways, if you read all the way down here I hope any of this made sense. This is a little bit of a love letter to The Crane Wives and Ninjago, I spent hours doing this lol. If you haven't heard any or some of these songs, please do listen to them!! Every song mentioned should have an accompanying link. Anyways, time to end this stupidly long post, please share if you have any thoughts or connect songs differently!!!!!!!!

[ravencincaide]

Blurred lines 

Summary:  Having grown up together there were few lines you and Chuuya hadn’t crossed. But maybe that was a naive way of thinking OR the time your familiar banter was replaced with a ‘caring’ threat, which hid an almost carnal need.  

Pairing: Best friends! Fem reader x Chuuya Nakahara

Inspired by sweetober prompt 21: Bathing 

Warnings: Cursing & alcohol, nudity, banter, inappropriate behavior/ very light sexual content.

Enjoy?

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” 

You held back a smirk as you studied the glass of wine in your hand and purposefully twirled the red liquid an extra time to bring out more of its sweet notes. Satisfied that you aerated it enough, you finally raised it to your lips. Then; “ haven’t you heard of never entering a lady’s bathroom, especially when she’s taking a bath?” you asked, obviously faking anger. As if to hammer your point across you half-heartedly shifted the thick sea of bubbles over yourself. In reality neither shy nor bothered by being naked in front of him, but you did need to keep appearances if you intended to get away with your scolding. 

This time it was Chuuya who rolled his eyes at you.“ I see no lady, just a goddamn brat who made me freeze in soaked, icy clothes while she leisured about in a hot bath sipping on wine” he snapped, stormy blue eyes narrowed dangerously at you.   

Clearly, you did not get away with your scolding. 

“ Hey! I said you can shower in the spare bathroom.” You defended yourself. Neither of you bothered to point out that said shower was shoe-sized, with broken tiles and barely any water pressure. Good enough for cleaning off blood and gore without dragging it everywhere, but that was about all it was good for. 

Definitely far below a sophisticated creature like Chuuya.  

“ Whatever, move over so I can have some space” Chuuya sighed as he began prying off the wet clothes which stuck to him like second skin. He managed to get his coat, hat and vest off in one go before the struggle began. After a few moments he let out a curse as his frozen fingers couldn’t quite get the buttons of his dress-shirt off. 

“  You know it might go better if you take your drenched gloves off, right?” you suggested, earning yourself a dark glare. 

“ A Lady should avert her eyes when a man is stripping” Chuuya’s voice was something between teasing and annoyed; typical banter that made up the majority of your conversations. Still he threw off his gloves to the side, clearly following your advice. 

Unsurprisingly, stripping went much better for him after that. 

“ Please, I've seen your micro penis already. There’s not much else to see” you waved your hand dismissively. Despite your words you leaned against the bathtub, your gaze on the wall as you took another large sip of wine. You were going to give him privacy; but only for the sake of your sanity. 

“ We were children!” Chuuya growled as he finally wrestled out of the shirt. “ Anyway look at yourself, idiot” 

“ I don’t have a penis, dumbass!” you scoffed.

“ No, thank fuck for that or you’d ruin it somehow with your idiocy; you’ve got any mans and womans dream- big boobs, and you still manage to make them look like deflated baloons!” 

You gaped at him, eyes wide. “ How fucking dare you?!” you growled before you slapped your arm against the water, splashing him with warmth and bubbles. Effectively soaking his socks before he managed to move out of the way of the soap-water attack.   

“ Hey stop that” Chuuya pointed a warning finger at you. “ These pants cost more than your yearly wages and they don’t do well with bath-water” 

You rolled your eyes and slapped your arm down into the water once more, this time  you made sure to drench at least one of the pant legs: “ Well what do they say? The uglier you are, the more expensive clothes you need to hide that?” 

“ No one says that besides you, you dimwit,” Chuuya stated as he came over and flickered your forehead with a little too much force. 

You wailed, dropping your head into your hand. You clutched it in pain; eyes tightly shut. You waited until the stars in your eyes subsided before you fixed him with a dark glare; “ Ow what the fuck? That hurt!”  

By then Chuuya had slipped into the bathtub and leaned against the opposite side, one arm laid against the edge, the second one twirled the bottle in his hand, salvaging the fragrance for a moment. He deemed it satisfactory and flashed you the look.“ Hey, give me that!”  Chuuya stretched his hand out towards you, clearly expecting you to hand over your wine glass. After all, he wasn’t a barbarian who’d drink straight from a wine bottle. 

“ I’m still drinking from that glass, Hey–!” you called out as he yoinked the glass right out of your grasp, filled it up as he flashed you a grin as if to say ‘which glass? This one?’ before he took a sip from it. You noticed that his lips landed on the same spot you drank from- the place where the reminisce of your lipgloss stained the rim.  

You could have sworn something shifted in his gaze as he stared at you; something which matched the soft pinkness of his cheeks. The pinkness which came from the heat of the bathroom and bathwater- right? You shook your head at your own pathetic thoughts. This was Chuuya of all people; of course he’d do something like that just to spite you. To get a rise out of you for his own amusement. The fact that you thought something else even for a second indicated that you must be more tipsy than you first thought. Especially if you even toyed with the idea that there may be a hidden meaning in his stare besides a threat of payback for his ruined pants. 

You rolled your eyes then looked away from him, breaking eye contact first. 

“Whatever, you’re still just a stupid jerk” You sighed before you turned your back to him and pressed yourself up against the corner of the bathtub. You rested your arms on the edge, and leaned your head on top of them. You closed your eyes, salvaging the warmth of the water against your skin and the natural lull in the conversation. With no wine, and no banter, just resting was the best way to prevent overthinking. 

“ Oj don’t fall asleep on me; I’m not saving you if you drown out of your own stupidity” Chuuya said, as he was finally finished with your wine glass. You heard the gentle cling of it against the bathtub as he set it on the edge on his side instead of giving it back to you. Jerk. 

You showed exactly what you thought of him by reaching up and flipping him the bird. 

This earned you a heavy sigh; “ God you’re unbearable at times, you know that?” his voice sounded different in your ears, a tone you didn’t quite recognize. You shrugged it off, no doubt it was your drunken mind playing tricks on you again. Or maybe he was just trying to coax a reaction out of you which he could hold over your head for later teasing. You were not gonna fall for that old trick. Even as you heard the shift of water and sensed him come closer, you remained calm, relaxed, eyes firmly shut. 

Until you felt his chest hit your back, his arms caged you on either side, hot breath in your ear. You froze at the proximity; was it his leg that brushed against yours beneath the surface of the water or..? If possible Chuuya came closer, his breath a hot whisper in your ear; “ You’re still so naive, leaving yourself all defenseless and vulnerable, letting a man into the bathtub with you; Don’t do it again- or next time things might not end so innocently.” 

You gaped, then shook your head not believing what you just heard. “ W-What are you–?!” you spun around to face him but by then Chuuya had already stepped out of the bathtub, wrapped a towel around his waist and was half way out of the door. He did not spare you a second glance. 

“ Chuu?” You called out carefully, still in shock. 

Instead of answering, Chuuya took the last step out of the bathroom and closed the door firmly yet gently behind himself. He left you completely alone in the half cold bath waters. The action made you wonder if all that had actually happened, or if this was another one of those times when your drunk mind decided to play tricks on you, when it tempted you with something you knew would never be..

Authors note: Don't ask me what the hell this is and I'll not ask you why you're reading such questionable Chuuya content, deal? And for those of you wondering how the hell this could even begin to be "normal behaviour", mixed onsen is all I'm going to say..

[sillypiratelife]

Kuina is probably my favorite female character of One Piece, but that's because she represents just perfectly the experience of being a little girl that's into martial arts— and some other stuff.

Kuina would never be enough because she could not be man enough to inherit the dojo, according to her dad, but she was also not lady-like enough to be considered a "woman". To the eyes of other people (and what they make her believe), Kuina's dream marked her as an eternal outcast, someone who would never reach one shore or the other.

To Kuina, her body was a cage. Even if she had everything within her, her body would make her naturally weaker. Similar to being condemned to fight with a bad sword, a blade that would break. Being a child was safe. Little boys and little girls are equals. Growing up meant losing time, losing ground. Every year must have to be a burden to her, with the constant reminder that her time as the best was running out.

The fear and hatred of puberty, the horror of the way your body changes without your permission, the experience of girls who feel uncomfortable in her bodies because they don't want breasts, they don't want to be weaker once a month because their bodies are bleeding and their hormones are ruining everything— I've seen it all.

Worst even, the way people would stare at those bodies and lust for them. The trauma of being desirable. Now they think that they're entitled to your body, that they can disrespect you. You're a toy, an object, you're a woman so you're weak and fragile, you're a woman so give up, you're not in control of the situation anymore.

When Koushiro said that a woman could never be the best swordman in the world, there are soooo many things in between the lines. Why not?

As if it wasn't enough, the boys accused Kuina of being that much better than them because her dad was the leader of the dojo, so he must be teaching her in secret. Her merits were never hers, just the results of another man. "Ah, that girl can't be that good, she must be getting help, receiving special treatment, getting extra training, etc". It's infuriating and Kuina shows it. They disrespect her like it's nothing, like it's natural. Her own dad allows it and participates in that.

Before Zoro, Kuina had no one to tell her that her skills were only hers. Her body, her heritage, not of that mattered. She was the rightful winner of their matches, at least so far.

When Zoro cries out of frustration and Kuina asks him if he even knows why she should be the one crying for it? Life changing moment. Zoro got the praise and loyalty of the dojo boys, the admiration of the older people training there, he was even the special boy of her dad— Koushiro let Zoro clown around with multiple swords and watch Kuina beat his ass, but it'd never matter.

Zoro wouldn't be betrayed by his own body, his own family, his own dojo and his own hometown. He was an outsider accepted by the community, their pride even. He came out of nowhere and they gave him everything she wanted and both of them deserved. It's just that it wasn't a fair fight: Zoro was a boy and Kuina was a girl. She'd always have to fight harder even if she was better.

For me, I really think that only Zoro could carry Wado Ichimonji with him. He was the only one who respected Kuina as a person and a rival, not seeing what others saw in her. Zoro honored all their fights, never tried to discredit her, because even when Koushiro tried to give Zoro an excuse "you forgot that she's a little older than you", Zoro brushed it away. No, he could beat grown-ups. That was not it.

Kuina was better than him. Period.

The fact that she died in such an accident and the way Koushiro said "humans are fragile things"... It is just so amazing. What Kuina feared the most: all her potential, wasted. When she was finally ready to go after what she wanted, she fell down the stairs and died. Simple. The promise Zoro and Kuina made was wasted too. Now Zoro had all the time in the world and Kuina had no time at all. She was always against fate and Zoro rode with it.

I still think about how Zoro plans to make it all worth something: if she can rightfully fight for the title, then he won't let anyone have it but him. If Kuina was able to beat 2001 times the boy who would become the best swordman in the world, then no one could insult him ever again. And if he won that title with her sword, then he'd elevate both their names. If he could fulfill his promise to her, then that night would hold its meaning.

I love Kuina soooo freaking much and I love how much Zoro values her, even to this day.

[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Pre-Air

Jojo, Ninew, Ninepinta and Vivienne have now presented their stable of hoes to us, y'all have chosen your fighters, and I am gnawing on concrete in anticipation of August 12. Since I'm gonna be doing weekly character rankings, I wanted to set up a pre-air Clown Checkpoint so I can look back later and see how wrong I was. Until that YouTube premiere countdown hits zero, we know exactly nothing, but I'm ready to predict whose gay wrongs I will most support! Here we go!

1. Nick

I just want you to love only me!

Audience ranking: 6

Ever since Mark Pakin showed up in that pilot trailer scheming and sex-taping, Nick has been MY DUDE. I want him to be the most manclown character of all time. I want him to be DESPERATE AND PATHETIC for Boston's dick. ANSWER EVERY BOOTY CALL NICK, I BELIEVE IN YOU. HE WANTS YOU TO DO A THREESOME? NO PROBLEM, WHATEVER YOU WANT BABE. I want Nick to call his bestie (Sand?) crying because Boston came over at 3:02 a.m. and left at 4:37 a.m. and 15 minutes of that was him taking a post-coital shower. I want crying and begging and clinging and devious acts. Khun Pakin has the chops to make my dreams come alive, make it happen boo!

2. Mew

My type is pretty simple. I'm not a picky kind of guy.

Audience ranking: 4

Right up until time of posting I thought my #2 seed would be Boston, but something is telling me that when it comes to manipulation and making grown men cry, Mew will emerge the champion. Something in this butter-wouldn't-melt expression is telling me this man is the true demon from hell whereas Boston is merely a top-tier-yet-still-garden-variety slut. Him shit-kicking Boston into the pool and then jumping in himself to finish the job is the kinda deranged shit I respect immensely. Kill them all Mew. You deserve.

3. Boston

You should be glad to be my favourite.

Audience ranking: 5

I may have called this man a garden variety slut, but I love a good slut though! Especially one who will lend his toys to help out a friend. And then almost instantly regret it. And then cause chaos and problems for himself as a result. And then make it everybody else's chaos and problems. Basically, I expect Boston's job to be throwing hole around Bangkok and ruining lives, and I expect him to do it WELL, and I expect him to do it in the sluttiest rent boy outfits I've ever seen.

4. Ray

You think my life will be better with you? It's only fucking going down to hell.

Audience ranking: 3

Speaking of chaos and problems, OUR BI DISASTER IS HERE GUYS! Bisexual? Bipolar? Why not both? The trailer is letting us know from jump that Ray is A Mess With Money and happy to use that money to buy himself some company, but also not able to keep those lines from getting blurred. I’m expecting this character to make me fall in love with him but also want to strangle him, Teh Krittikorn Saetun-style, so expect this ranking to go up until he is somehow my fave.

5. Sand

Friends don't charge friends. Besides, you should save your money for a shrink.

Audience ranking: 2

First Kanaphan’s job at GMMTV is to rip our hearts out roughly twice a year, and he’s right on schedule. It seems like Sand never learned not to fall for poor little rich boys, so we will all have to suffer with him. Honestly his ranking is this low right now because I see these guitars and microphones and I want no part of them. There is a short list of GMMTV boys allowed to sing at me and as much as I love First he is not on it. Ditch the microphone and bring back the baseball bat bb, I’m ready to see you bust some heads, kneecaps, car windows, whatever in pursuit of your love.

6. Top

When I take aim, I never miss.

Audience ranking: 7

Ah yes, the hoe-turned-seeming-housewife who’s actually still hoeing. The village bike. The community top. Boston basically turns him out and he’s not only fine with it, he falls for the john. Delicious. I desire his ruin like I’ve desired nothing before in media.

7. Everybody we don’t know nothing about yet (Yo, Nam/Syrup, Nes, Lesbian!Nonnie, A Wild Papang, various and assorted surprise guests I’m pretty sure we’re getting)

Friends don't do this to each other.

Audience ranking: 1 (combined score)

We await the tea on all the side characters, but the casting is superb, and I’m ready to see how high in the rankings they can climb.

LET THE MESS COMMENCE!

[marsmarauders]

folklore (Marauder's Version)

Welcome back to another episode of Mo and Marls going insane :) @idkjustlemmedrownlikerab and I overanalyzed every single song on folklore… (the BEST Taylor Swift album, no discussion).

Also, we first discussed this one like a month ago and I didn't take very detailed notes, so if I missed anything Mo, let me know!

Sorry, it took a bit longer for this one to come out… I’m trying my best here. 😭

Let’s get into it, shall we?

the 1

So we all know how James changed, right? Like how he grew out of the bullying and mistreatment? I think part of that maturity came from Jegulus. The experience of being in a relationship with someone who is the complete and utter opposite of you would probably take a lot of emotional maturity. (And immaturity, hence why he left him when he did). And obviously, Regulus would not have betrayed Voldomort if he hadn’t first gone through the worst of it all. If it was all sunshine and rainbows being a death eater, why on earth would he have changed his mind? Like the song says, they never would’ve matured and grown if it weren’t for the fallout of their relationship.

“And if you wanted me, you really should've showed. And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow.”

“To kiss in cars, and downtown bars was all we needed. You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding.”

cardigan

Yeah, I know the cliche. That’s literally the most quoted Wolfstar coded song lyric in the history of Taylor Swift songs, so instead, let me bring up verse 3.

This part of the song perfectly encapsulates how I think Remus felt after October 31st, 1981. Sirius would always be there in the back of his mind, whether it be the ghost of his slips or the scent of smoke. Even though he didn’t want to feel that way about Sirius anymore, considering the weight of the crimes that Sirius had supposedly committed, he still felt that way because the younger him was insistent that Sirius was the one. And some part of him knew that even though destiny fought against them, they’d end up together again. (Not for long- cough).

“But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss. I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs. The smell of smoke would hang around this long. 'Cause I knew everything when I was young. I knew I'd curse you for the longest time. Chasin' shadows in the grocery line. I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired. And you'd be standin' in my front porch light. And I knew you'd come back to me.”

“Who knows, if I never showed up, what could've been. There goes the loudest person this town has ever seen. I had a marvelous time ruining everything.”

the last great american dynasty

So first off, let’s completely ignore the word American in this scenario. Second off, my interpretation is different from the actual meaning of the song. Instead of blaming women from a sexist point of view, I’m instead using the motif that everyone was (rightfully) blaming the death eaters for the war. Does that make sense? Okay.

So when Mo first brought up the idea that this song was about Regulus, it took me a minute to understand where she was coming from (Not because it was a bad idea, not at all. This is just not my particular favorite song off of folklore). But the fact that one of the lyrics is “there goes the maddest women (person in this case) this town has ever seen, really sold it for me.

We may all argue that Barty was the maddest of all the death eaters, considering the lengths he went for Voldemort, but up until the betrayal, Regulus was literally the #1 Voldemort stan. He was mad. If he’d never “shown up,” yeah, some things might’ve been better. But to figure out the Horcruxs, he kind of had to go down that path. So in the final chorus, I honestly think it’s Regulus, 6 feet under, mocking everyone who hated him, because without him, Voldemort would’ve never been defeated.

“I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending.”

exile

This song is the dynamic I picture Wolfstar having after reuniting. Not in the shrieking shack, but outside of school. There were two conflicting sides to the story, but both left them in shambles. And now that they know the truth, they’re too scared to risk it again. Because what’s the point of trying again if they’re only going to die in the end?

The bridge gets this point across perfectly. When Taylor echos Justin’s singing with a second perspective of the story, that captures Sirius and Remus perfectly. Because from Remus’s perspective, Sirius didn’t give him any kind of heads up that he thought Remus himself to be the traitor. Sirius never gave him the time of day to hear him out! But obviously, Sirius tried giving signs, such as 1: keeping the Potter’s secret keeper extremely confidential to the point that he wouldn’t even tell his partner and 2: arguing with Remus about where he was at night. But how could Remus have known that? He couldn’t read Sirius’s mind! They were falling so quickly that there was no way to stop it.

Now that they know the truth, however, they’re learning to forgive each other and move past it. But how can they when they’re just as in love with each other as they were before? Why would they risk it all if it could disappear all the same? They knew how this movie ended, why would they watch it again?

“And I can go anywhere I want. Anywhere I want, just not home.”

my tears ricochet

This song is Sirius to many people all at once, so let me break it down a little.

The majority of the song is Sirius to the people who believed him to be the spy. To have killed his best friends. The fact that he was never given a chance to explain himself and was just locked up; he’s feeling a lot of resentment. Sirius wants to know why on earth they care so much about it when he was “suppoedly” the one to have destroyed everything. Why is the focus on him? Why aren’t they focused on James or Lily or Marlene or Dorcas or the people who died in the war? If he’s dead to them, then why do they act like he exists?

The bridge is him towards Regulus. Regulus died, for reasons that Sirius will probably never know. He talks to the Regulus star, because it’s all he has left, even though he left him years ago. He probably wonders if Regulus saved himself from ending up like Sirius. He probably wonders if Regulus was right. Not about pureblood supremacy, but about keeping quiet and leaving it be.

I think the last chorus is Sirius towards Peter. Throwing Sirius under the bus will only disadvantage Peter in the long run. Why would you willingly stay a rat for 13 years?

"I'm a mirrorball. I can change everything about me to fit in. You are not like the regulars. The masquerade revelers. Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten."

mirrorball

Mirrorball was a little tricky at first cause it's just kind of ✨ominous manipulation✨ to be quite honest and at first, I think Mo was thinking Sirius? But then I kind of looked deeper into the lyrics that I listed above and was like "Hear me out… It's Peter's internal monologue convincing himself into becoming a death eater." and we were both like "Woah."

seven

"Sweet tea in the summer, cross my heart won't tell no other."

So, I think we can all come to the agreement that from the bridge to the end of the song, it's James talking to Sirius. This kind of pure, compassionate, and beautiful friendship is such a special part of this fandom. They had such a special bond and I think that they're basically the definition of "Chosen Family."

However, the more I think about it, I think that everything from before the bridge is incredibly Regulus and Pandora coded. The difference between the Black Brother's closest friendships and how that kind of influenced their decisions. James gave Sirius a safe space, whereas Pandora was Regulus's safe space. Do you understand what I'm getting at?

august

So, I haven’t read ATYD but I know the basic concept of who Grant Chapman is and what he did and all that, and Mo was very insistent on this song being Grant, and I completely agree.

“So much for summer love and saying “us,” cause you weren’t mine to lose.”

Grant was a stand-in for Sirius in some way. I think both he and Remus knew that, but Grant fell for Remus, he couldn’t help it! And he knew Remus loved him, but he wasn’t Sirius and he’d never be Sirius. But that doesn’t make it any less bittersweet for Grant, knowing that Remus is happier off with Sirius. In the same way that Jegulus was necessary for James’s character growth, Grant was necessary for Remus’s.

this is me trying

So I was certain this was Black Brothers and Mo was certain this was Regulus, so I’m gonna mix them. In the bridge specifically, I can see Regulus longing for Sirius after he left. The parties? The weird pureblood cult meetings his family had. It was hard for Regulus to even walk around their house because it was not the same without Sirius. The “one screen in his town” is Sirius being Regulus’s only escape. (Cause you watch movies on a screen? And movies tend to be an escape from reality? Look at me. I’m smart). And Regulus is also struggling with this internal battle because if he leaves, he’ll put himself and Sirius in danger, but if he stays, he’ll have to do things he knows deep down in his heart he doesn’t want to do. This is him trying.

“And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound. It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town.”

“It's born from just one single glance. But it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times.”

illicit affairs

Okay, before I get into this song, I want to clarify that we’re not implying that any of these characters were unfaithful.

There’s a difference between an affair (long- term cheating) and an affair (a pastime experience). I’m not the kind of person to promote cheating or adultery in my stories, because I think it’s such a frustrating topic to discuss. I wouldn’t ship people who went out of their way to hurt their partners. That being said, the word “affair” here is being used in the same way the words “event” or “incident” would. Obviously the word “illicit” means forbidden, so our interpretation of “illicit affairs” is just a “secret relationship.”

I think you might understand who I’m getting at here… if you guessed Jegulus, you’d be correct! James and Regulus were a secret, but not in the way you think. Their friends knew, Sirius knew, James’s parents probably knew, but Regulus’s family could not know. No one outside of their circle could know. (Reminds me of another Taylor Swift lyric. “You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath.” James kept Regulus as a secret, only because Regulus wanted him to, but Regulus held on to James like he was his life support). It was almost as if they were having an affair, and like most affairs, they die.

Also, the bridge; lets discuss.

The first part of the bridge is James to Regulus. James was a mess after leaving Regulus because he couldn’t fix him. He couldn’t help him. (Well actually, he might’ve been able to but he left when Regulus needed him the most so-) The “colors” that Regulus showed him were 1: that the world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, 2: that James cannot fix everything, and 3: the maturity that James gained from their relationship.

“And you wanna scream don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby.” Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else.”

Again, Regulus was ripped to shreds after their break up, and he made some really foolish choices afterwards. The so-called “secret language” that James taught him, was vulnerability. Sure, he can talk about things with Barty or Evan, but with James he wasn’t expected to pull himself together. He could just exist with James and everything would be fine. Until it wasn’t.

“Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby.” Look at this idiotic fool that you made me. You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else.”

“A string that pulled me. Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar. Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire. Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons. One single thread of gold tied me to you”

invisble string

This one was tough, because there are so many couples that start out as these wholesome, pure, lovely relationships, but we quickly vetoed most of them.

Wolfstar: This song is literally about the concept of destiny and fate, and although Sirius and Remus were quite literally meant to be together, destiny kept pulling them apart.

Jily: I guess Jily are also quite literally the definition of fate, considering their matching patroni, the prophecy, etc. But Jily is also quite literally the definition of slow-burn, so again, this song doesn’t fit them.

Rosekiller: I guess you could argue they were fate, but they’re way too angsty.

Dorlene: Again, soulmates but way too angsty + they were rivals at the start.

This is where I came to the realization that every single couple in this fandom ends in tragic death… but then I thought about it some more.

Xenophilius and Pandora- JUST LET ME FINISH.

Yes, I am well aware that Pandora dies, but from what we know in canon, it was a freak accident. She wasn’t murdered like Marlene, Dorcas, the Potters, technically Evan, and Sirius (Yes, even if Sirius hadn’t fallen into the veil, he would’ve died). She didn’t risk her life like Regulus and Remus. She wasn’t driven to insanity like the Longbottoms and Barty (by the dementors kiss) She was experimenting, something she loved to do. She probably died happy for all we know!

I also think Pandora was probably esoteric (she believed in crystals, chakras, astrology, etc), so I think she also might’ve believed in fate. And considering the fact that Xenophilius and her relationship was so perfect, they probably were fate. They were classic friends to lovers, and they had the happiest ending out of all the marauders. Pandora was able to raise her daughter until she was nine, more than Lily and James ever got to do, and Xenophilius continued to raise Luna even after she died. (Yes, I’m aware he technically betrayed Harry, however we know he was a good person at heart and that prior to the Battle of Hogwarts, he openly supported Harry. The death eaters had kidnapped his daughter, I honestly don’t blame him that much.

Oh and also, Xenophilius was probably her only friend during her 7th year, considering 1: the older marauders had all graduated and 2: the pantheon’s falling out, so that’s why I used the lyrics I chose!

mad woman

For Mo, this song is blatantly Pandora, and for me it’s Dorcas. But, (again) it’s been a while since we discussed this, so I have a new narrative I’d like to propose to you. (Because we both had the same concept, just different characters.)

“Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? They strike to kill and you know I will.”

It’s both of them, from the perspective of Barty, Evan, and Regulus. They call them “mad women” because they don’t agree with their pureblood ideologies and want to be death eaters. The lyric “Everytime you call me crazy, I get more crazy,” feels like something Evan would think after all his fights with his sister. The lyric “It’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together,” seems like something Regulus would think. Obviously, I don’t think Pandora and Dorcas wanted him dead (considering the fact that Pandora definitely checked in on Regulus from time to time), but they wanted the bad part of him gone. And since they both left the rest of the Pantheon, that would’ve resulted in them growing closer.

And I guess in a way, they both went mad, but it’s up to your imagination. Dorcas went mad because she literally tried to go after the people who killed her girlfriend. And Pandora went mad because (if you headcanon this) she died trying to help Regulus destroy a horcrux.

If there was a song that played during a slow-motion montage of October 31st, 1981 the second Sirius finds out about the death and rushes over to the Potters, this would be it. It’s Sirius seeing his best friends lifeless body. The lyrics “With you I serve, with you I fall down,” symbolizes the way that when James “fell” (died), Sirius also “fell,” (falsely-accused) and even though it was unintentional, they went down together. Sirius felt like it was his fault. He switched the secret keeper and if only he’d trusted Remus enough, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.

Epiphany

“And some things you just can't speak about.”

"In the garden, would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only 17, I don't know anything, but I know I miss you."

betty

Again, I'm using the concept of the "affair" love story in folklore as instead the story of a secret relationship, so no adultery was committed in the making of this post. 💀

Basically, I think this song is James's guilt when he's falling for Lily all over again, but he's still not completely over Regulus. (Of course, he and Regulus are dead and gone at this point, but it still lingers).

It's him thinking through what he would tell Lily if she ever asked him if he still loved Regulus. (I don't think Lily would've cared personally, lol).

Also in my mind I think this song has to be from James's perspective, solely because of the lyric "She said "James get in!" (I'm now literally realizing that that line is mentioning how he fell into the affair… well that ruins everything… scrap that idea).

Regulus and him were kind of an affair in the way that it was never meant to last. And also, while James may not have had feelings for Lily at that very moment, it was obvious that James was in love with both Regulus and Lily. (Again- no cheating).

I don't know, Betty's kind of a tough one.

peace

This song is about Jily. Lily finding peace in the friendship she has with James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Marlene, Mary, everyone now that she's away from Severus. But she also knows there will never fully be peace with them, because of her blood status.

"Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other. Family I chose now that I see your brother as my brother."

And she wants to know if she's enough for James, even though she knows he's knee deep in love with her, but she gets worried because what if they die? What if they don't get to live the life they'd always dreamed of living? No matter how wonderful their life may seem together, she knows that there's always darkness around the corner, and she wonders if it's because of her.

hoax

This song is how Remus feels knowing that the person he trusted the most in life with his deepest and darkest secrets was supposedly worthy of commiting a crime just as dark. That's it. Don't have much else to say here 😭

"You knew it still hurts underneath my scars when they pulled me apart but what you did was just as dark."

the lakes

If this song isn't Regulus Black, then we don't know what is.

"Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die."

~

Okay wow that was a long one! If you made it this far, thank you!! Make sure to look out for Lover, coming soon to a theater near you!!!

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, 3x8, Let The Games Begin. Part 7 (It's Been A While)

Last chapter was posted May 11th. Apologies for the hiatus. The vibes need to be just right to create these things. You can read parts 1-6 and everything else in my pinned post. On the last episode of TWWGG: "After Lorelai (Rory) exits the (Yale) interview, one that was seemingly a success, she immediately turns to Richard to chew him out for springing the interview on her last minute and not giving her time to prepare. That is more than fair coming from Rory, to be quite honest. And I’m glad to see her standing up for herself." Lesss gooo. Lorelai hauls Rory into a cab. They arrive home at night, even though it was blazing sunshine a short distance away at Yale. Rory asks Lorelai if they can not talk about college for 2 days and she agrees and everything that just happened is brushed aside and forgotten. Kidding. After a brave display of defiance towards Richard moments earlier, Rorynow expresses her guilt for not towing the line for Mommy. Mommy was right. Mommy is always right.

I....you know...forget it.

I think I should cross off "Lorelai and Rory eat at Luke's without paying" from the Bingo Card. Bringing outside food into his establishment? That's just rude. Luke could probably send Jess to college with all of Rory and Lorelai's unpaid checks and stiffed tips.

Saying it outloud isn''t going to change their unethical and frankly downright criminal behavior, Lucas. You know this.

Or at least a bag of Doritos.

Why hello, my sweet baby darling. I'm ready to Cmhrrrh.

Oh, Is "studying" what the kids call tonsil hockey these days? Run like the wind Rory! RUNNNN. I just have this good feeling Rory is totally not going to blow this sacred opportunity to have unsupervised makeout time with Jess or anything like that. Never, in the kingdom of The Queen of Blue Balls. Lorelai and Luke watch as Rory runs after Jess to "Study". Wink wink nudge nudge. Then a few seconds later without a shred of irony or realization, Luke tells Lorelai how he told Jess that as long as he lives under his roof he's gotta keep his pants on.

You're off to a ripping start already.

Lorelai is being rational? She's not running after them? "It's okay"? She's pulling the "They're teenagers, they can kiss in the dark" shit for Jess and Rory like she did for Dean? I'd say "Fetch me my fainting couch" but I know it's all a big fat farce, Lorelai is full of shit as per uszh, and my fainting couch is in the shop.

Settle down, Lucas. You're going to have a stroke one of these days. Or steam is going to come out of his ears like in a cartoon. Or he'll snap and go on a killing spree.

I've never seen two grown adults who weren't in some kind of strict religious sect have such near anyeursms because their adult children want to kiss each other. What are the odds Luke Danes, the varsity athlete, was much sluttier than Jess when he was 18? Probably pretty high. Cross off "Do as I Say Not As I Do" on the Episode Bingo Card.

Pretty rich coming from Ms "Also Has Run Around All Over Town Looking for Jess and Rory" and "Ms. Run Around All Over Town Looking For a Gumball Machine Bracelet"

I can rely on Lorelai being insufferable in every episode, but when Luke is insufferable too I pray for the sweet relief of the end credits. I hope in his Cockblocking Quest of Glory, that he trips on something. Or loses his hat.

Smoking against a gas pump. Living dangerously. I don't blame him for having a bit of a death wish, to be quite honest. Luke should be more concerned that Jess is going to cause an explosion that will level Stars Hollow into a parking lot than him rounding first base. (Where the hell did Luke go, by the way?)

Whatcha thinkin aboutt?

That was such a good HUH. *pets his sweet head*

*gnaws on the drywall* SUCH A GOOD KISS. I have no words. Okay, That’s a lie, I do have words but I ran out of space so I will see you in part 8 for the thrilling conclusion (which is: Rory ruins this precious moment by abandoning Jess and chasing after Dean) Oh god. I just skipped ahead and there's a Lorelai Couch Speech at the end too. Mind if I join you for a cigarette against the gas pumps, Jess?

[the-elder-beato]

so I've been going through umineko again for a project i'm working on and it got me thinking about how masterfully the hints and foreshadowing regarding the true culprit and the overall mystery are sprinkled throughout almost every line of dialogue. and like duh it's a mystery story so of course there's gonna be foreshadowing, but it's also hard to strike a good balance with being too obvious that it no longer becomes subtle or being so vague that the reveals feel like they came out of nowhere

looking back on so much of the dialogue even in chapters 1 and 2, so much of it had me practically screaming at myself "how did you miss this the first time through?!" but at the same time, i can totally see how certain details flew over my head given the context the story being told is presented in.

gonna post some specific examples under the cut because one of my good friends is currently reading through it and i don't want to ruin it for him. SPOILERS FOR ALL OF UMINEKO BELOW

a pretty major one that a lot of people bring up is the constant mention of sickly sweet smells coming from kinzo's study as well as the oddly poisonous looking drinks that he partakes in that are bad for his health. this is probably referring both to the odor of kinzo's corpse itself and the preservatives genji and the others are using to prevent it from becoming obvious to the others in the mansion that don't know of his death

but the other things that stuck out to me are the fact that when krauss goes up to his door to do the whole song and dance of pretending that kinzo is in too much of a bad mood to leave his study and see the family during the conferences, he often ends these scenes with a sly smile on his face before handing kinzo off to genji or nanjo, two people who are also responsible for keeping up the charade

This is from one of the earliest scenes in chapter 1 like jesus christ. even ignoring how obvious the "my dad is already dead" line is in hindsight, those coy, knowing smiles he gives are practically screaming that this guy is putting on a show for the other siblings. but on a blind viewing, you could easily wave it off as krauss just having grown tired of trying to make the effort to get his rambling father to come out for like the 3rd family conference in a row and all he can do it laugh it off bitterly

a very similar version of this charade is shown in episode 2 as well, with yet another line with a double meaning that hints to kinzo's real fate. i honestly kind of find it amusing picturing these grown men pounding on the door to their dead father's study, yelling at a volume probably loud enough to reach the rest of the family downstairs to sell the bit even more

these lines also from episode 2 though. holy shit, ryukishi is pretty much giving the answer away here. granted, you can definitely interpret this on a first pass as natsuhi and krauss devising this plan to protect kinzo/their own interests with regards to the inheritance discussion, but the sinister and ominous undertones are there.

speaking of episode 2, it is basically a whole novel's worth of hints towards shannon and kanon's true identities, which makes sense given it's their focus episode alongside episode 6. episode 1 already plants some seeds here and there regarding kanon, what with him somehow always seeming to appear to shannon out of thin air or being described as creeping up on people silently like a cat

one of the biggest hints that most people discuss is how the detective, battler, who is supposed to have an objective view on the proceedings (at least before erika takes over in 5-6) never seems to see shannon and kanon together at the same time when he is present. what keeps up the illusion is the many other scenes sprinkled throughout that take place through other character's POVs where we are shown the two interacting together, particularly with genji and kumasawa. we aren't given any indication this early on that the narration absent of battler isn't to be trusted or is hiding details from us, i don't think until knox's rules are introduced in the answer arcs, so this is a pretty brilliant way of hiding the truth of their characters but without making it feel as if the viewer was completely lied to in hindsight

the fact that jessica is saying this to kanon of all people. oh my god. it's so painful. all of the flashback scenes of shannon and george and jessica and kanon are so sad to watch. sayo is not only struggling with the fact that she's fallen in love with another man while waiting for battler to come back, not only struggling with the realization that she's bisexual when she starts having feelings for jessica, not only struggling with the constant reminders from george that he wants to have many children and grandchildren after she finds out that she will never be able to conceive...

she's now come to a crossroads where (in this world at least) she has to decide whether or not she'll give up hope of battler ever returning and pledge herself to george, while breaking jessica's heart as kanon. and battler coming back after 6 years just throws all of that out the window

this one might just be me overthinking, but i'm curious if anyone else has a similar interpretation. these two batches of dialogue occur in the same scene, the second coming after "kanon" shows up to once again vent out "shannon's" feelings of frustration and anger towards the ushiromiyas. at first it would seem that her lamentation about wanting to be rescued continues directly from the previous string of thoughts, and that she's referring to george again. but the use of quotation marks around "him" the second time around really make me think that this must refer to battler.

the fact that she considers this a sin even moreso feels like it points to battler to me, her sin being the fact that she's still thinking of him in the first place while wanting a relationship with george. she wants to pursue these new feelings with george, but in her mind it would also be weakness on her part to give up on the promise she and battler made together by forgetting about him and moving on. she wants someone on a white horse to come save her, and the thought that this person has changed to being george is tearing her up inside. she doesn't deserve rescue from either of them, in her mind. it's so fucking sad

and the final one for now, since i've only gotten through the first two episodes for this rewatch. i remember thinking back to all the deaths from the previous chapters when faced with the challenge of figuring out who the true culprit was, and just my jaw dropping to the floor when i remembered this detail from turn of the golden witch. none of the other victims of the stakes had them fall out, they were gouged in deeply, but shannon's alone had fallen off to the side.

and of course rosa (the co-conspirator of the episode) conveniently blocks her body off before battler can examine it further and give an objective detective's view of the state of the body. if he was able to, he probably would have been able to see that the hole in shannon's forehead was made by a gunshot wound and not the stake.

not to mention kanon's body just disappearing entirely. episode 2 is where we really start to get introduced to the magic realm and its explanation of events, so it's easy to get sucked into that and go along with the whole "beatrice desecrated him after death by not even allowing him the closure of being a corpse for the rest to discover" but man, it is so crazy how well the pieces fit together once you know the truth. it was simply easier at this stage of the game for sayo to shed the kanon persona entirely so she could move more freely as shannon.

at this point, she had probably given up on battler solving the riddle in this fragment/bottle after his full on mental breakdown in the servant's room following rosa's cold accusations and lack of trust in everyone else. sayo would have planned to die by the end regardless, but this final locked room trick was probably her last ditch effort to give battler a clue as to what was happening, but again this was foiled by rosa barring him from looking closer at the crime scene

anyway that was a lot of rambling about stuff people have probably already discussed to death in the years since umineko's release. but damn i just really, really marvel at ryukishi's ability to write such an intricately written story that simultaneously had me at a loss for the solution for the majority of its runtime while also making me feel like a fucking idiot for missing all of these obvious clues the first time around, in the best kind of way. this sound novel is a masterpiece and i'm so glad i discovered it

rest in peace sayo, i have no doubt the foreshadowing during my replays of banquet and alliance of the golden witch are going to tear my heart asunder once again </3

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I have a request, if you fancy! R telling sirius (or remus if you’d rather) that she’s been feeling disconnected from him lately and the two of them working through it together. Some hurt/comfort from you is always a delight. Much love!

this isn’t exactly what u asked for but I hope u like it anyway, thank you for requesting! love <3 | fem!reader

When people had warned you about the honeymoon phase, you'd always rolled your eyes. Not me and Siri, you'd think, together and happy for entirely too long, every day so great it feels stolen, it feels too good to be true.

And, as it turns out, it is.

It starts slowly, you nearly don't notice, and then suddenly Sirius feels very very far away and you've no clue on how to get back, or what caused the distance in the first place. But, you love him. You're willing to do pretty much whatever it takes to be with him, and it has to start with a conversation. You don't want to do it when you're tired, and then a good day happens and you take it greedily, too scared to bring it up and ruin it.

Too many days pass by like that.

Sirius gets home on Friday and he's tired and he's a bit poorly. He's a grown up and he doesn't need any coddling, but maybe that's the thing — maybe you should be coddling one another more often, like you used to, and like you want to.

"Hey," you say lightly, wondering if he's unhappy. He'd never take a bad mood out on you but he still has them. He likes the quiet when he's stressed.

"Hey," he says, eyes squinted softly as he kisses your cheek.

You lean back to give him space, assuming he's on his way to the fridge for a drink, and you're encouraged greatly when he chases after you for another kiss. His hand pets the back of your head.

"Hard day?" you ask as he pulls away.

"Not too bad."

You wait, hoping, and then you say, "Mine was okay."

He winces. "Sorry. I'm glad it was, yeah? I missed you."

I missed you too, you want to say. I miss you.

"How's your head?"

He takes the water jug out of the fridge and bumps your hip. You shift. He fills two glasses and downs his own. "It hurts," he says, offering you a weak smile, "but I've had worse."

"Good, that's good. I- dinner's in the oven, so… whenever you're ready."

"Is everything okay?"

You pick up your glass and hesitate. "If you're not feeling well, it can't wait. I want to talk to you about something and it might be-" You fumble for words. "I don't know. It can wait."

Your heart stutters at his expression. Fondness, deep and genuine, etched into every line. He squeezes your forearm.

"It's okay," he says, hand starting in an affectionate procession up the length of your arm. "Let's talk about it now."

You get him settled on the settee with a cool patch and some painkillers. He looks silly. It helps lighten the mood, enough for you to sit close and tuck a black curl behind his ear. "How handsome," you croon.

"Gotta look good for my girl, you know that."

Your smile fades. You stroke his cheek with the back of your hand. "I miss you so much lately."

There's a scary pause, quiet that feels like it's seeping into your clothes. Cold water.

"I understand," he says finally, "I- I miss you too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He's reaches out to hug you and you move inward, your relief a palpable thing, his ribs under your hands.

The ensuing talk is completely different to what you’d imagined. You’d worried about a fight, a big fight. You’d wondered if he’d blame you for the distance, and you’d been afraid of what you might say in answer. You don’t want to make it his fault. Life can be really hard and you’re not sure you could do it without him anymore, and pulling apart rather than together would’ve ruined you, so it’s a relief when he clings to you, and when he bears a slice of his heart. He’s tired, he’s sorry. He’s really sorry, and he should’ve brought it up first, but he didn’t want the fight.

Seems you’re on the same page — not as far apart as you’d believed.

“I shouldn’t have thought that of you,” you say apologetically. “I know you wouldn’t fight just to fight, but-“

“It’s okay. I get it, I know I’ve been… insecure, before. You had good reason.”

“I don’t understand it, we’ve always been-“

“Good.”

“Great.”

He takes your face into his hand. Warmth swallows your cheek. “We’ve always been amazing.”

“But not perfect, like we thought.”

“I like it better this way,” he says earnestly, hand moving up like he’s trying to hold you all in one place. It’s a touch that’s a little too rough and you love it.

“I gotta take this off you,” you say, reaching for his cool patch. You both laugh in tandem. “Can’t kiss you like I want to, I’ll laugh.”

Relief has your hands shaking against his neck. You kiss him, and he gets playfully mad and kisses you, mumbling about taking the lead. You’re really, really happy, and you’re also scared.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you admit.

“I think it’s more me than you, sweet thing.”

You huff a laugh against his cheek, leaning in close. “You make me out to be some sort of-”

“Angel?”

“Saint.”

“I won’t let a good thing like you get away from me because of my pride.” He taps the tip of his nose into yours. “I don’t mind taking the blame. Not if it’s for us.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t, though. I don’t want things to get worse, or for you to feel like you’re trying to make us work by yourself-“

He kisses you fiercely. You try to push him away and he recedes instantly, and you realise at the lack of him that you actually very much would like to be kissing him, falling back in.

“I don’t think that,” he says between breaths. “I won’t.”

“Let it be my fault,” you plead, only half-joking.

“Never.”

Another kiss. Another.

You and Sirius are unbalanced. There’s always going to be one of you giving too much, and both of you like to take it. You’ll take him any day — sick and tired, sluggish with love. Now, with his hands hungry at your neck. Tonight, when he’s sleeping off his migraine, arms too tight around your chest. And in the morning, when you finish the conversation, and you inevitably make it work.

[flashfuture]

Since I've been on it I wanna talk about Hal's parents. Cause I've seen some dislike for Geoff Johns take on them. But they didn't really, Jessica especially, exist before then. I feel like some people read the comic where Hal in hysterical grief over Coast City made a construct of his parents and then went off to kill all the Lanterns and Guardians and said yep that is exactly how his parents were.

But let's get into it. Martin and Jessica Jordan. For further context, the sibling order is Jack, Hal, Jim Jordan. Three boys. And it was sort of implied for years that they were Jewish and got confirmed not too long ago that Jessica is Jewish and Martin is Catholic. Hal was a grown man in the 80s. His childhood took place in the 50/60s. And before that he was a grown man in the 60s meaning his childhood was the 40s/50s. That absolutely influenced the type of life he had. Vs the further in time we drag this out the less natural it becomes to have super strict parents.

So to begin the first physical appearance of Martin Jordan comes in 1989 in Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn #1. This is a post crisis pre zero hour story so any events in this particular time window are wildly subject to change

Martin is a test flight pilot. He's Hal's hero. His plane goes down. Hal watches. This sequence of events stays consistent across every time line including Flashpoint which is you know fascinating.

"Hal got fired today-- and he got his mom to call up and beg for him."

"Talk about my father again Biff and I'll rip your lungs out."

In this version of events, we get a mention of Jessica. She's not named and doesn't appear. So you can tell she was brought up purely for a 'Hal is so irresponsible he needs his mommy's help' bit. Hal and Jack get along though and are violently defensive of their father. Hal also catches a drunk driving charge after this.

Speaking of drunk I know there's a comic out there where Martin is described as a drunk which I could not for the life of me dig up again but that's mentioned all of once so I just ignore it. What's with making test pilots drunks???

Anyways Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn is definitely not my favorite Hal Jordan story and I'm glad it's been mostly retconned out minus the very beginning parts with Martin.

(Green Lantern vol 3 #36)

"So you're back to flying planes, huh?"

"Dad's blood still runs through my veins, I guess."

This Christmas special in 1993 took place before Coast City exploded. Hal took Carol out to Jack's house to spend the holiday with the Jordan family. Hal directly attributes flying to his dad's influence.

Now Green Lantern vol 3 #48. Hal is standing in the ruins of Coast City not a soul left and he conjures an image of his parents. Reminder they are entirely Hal's imagination and again he is just about hysterical right now.

"I looked up to you. I worshipped the ground you walked on, or flew over. I wanted to grow up and be you... which probably has a lot to do with who I am now. Growing up, though, I never felt like you... I don't know thought that much of me."

As we saw Hal's dad died when he was Maybe ten. His little brother and older brother didn't have real accomplishments in elementary school. Jack the DA and Jim helping the campaign and having a family that's all modern. Stuff Martin would have never known about. Martin the pilot getting on Hal's case for having his head in the clouds? Really seems like Hal is the one he could have related to the most. Martin getting on Hal about not saving the city just proves Hal is projecting his worries about disappointing his dad onto his dad and then because he's so hysterical with grief forces himself to rewatch his dad dying.

Absolutely completely irrational state of mind he's in right now. At the end of this issue, he's going to fly off into space to kill all the Lanterns and the Guardians.

And then he summons Jessica. Calling her mother instead of mom is just really funny to me like informal with his strict dad formal with his chill mom. Lmao? Jessica only speaks on Martin. Reminding Hal of the good times they had. She's Hal's memory which which means Hal heard the story of dressing up as Santa he remembers his dad's aftershave. Summoning your mom just to talk about your dad is crazy work btw

Again Hal was so young when his dad died. Not a teenager not even close. What was Martin disappointed about? Maybe Hal who can't keep a job a girl or half his friends (Barry died and all super friends ditched him basically) is projecting backwards into time. And assumes his Dad would be disappointed in him.

"Personal gain? This is about personal loss!"

Personal loss and Hal's spent most of his time summoning his long dead father. He really never got over Martin dying and that's so apparent. Anyways this is where Hal decides to go into space and kill everybody. Seeing his dad taken from him one more time made him snap.

Hal is enamored with his father. Whether their relationship was tough or easy it wasn't necessarily the point. The point is Hal Jordan loves his father to Oa and back more than the rest of his family probably understood. He didn't just want to impress his father he wants to be him.

And Zero Hour royally fucked up Hal's family but like idk let's just say Infinite Crisis fixed it. That's two reality shattering events. Why not give Hal a little treat of being his dad's favorite. No one seems to miss when Jack, Jim, and Hal all went to the same college and the same fraternity and were besties

[lemonluvgirl]

The Miner's Wife by MockingJayFlyingFree (Review)

Hello Hunger Games fanfic readers, this week I am reviewing the wonderful and compelling tale of The Miner's Wife written by MockingJayFlyingFree. (Trigger warnings for  Drug abuse, alcohol abuse, forced prostitution, non-con, and mention of abortion.)

I picked this story first to review because it's at the top of Everlark Fic Questions Top Ten Fics by Statistics and because I've read it before so I figured reviewing it would be easier since I was familiar with the story. So with that reasoning explained let's get down to the review.

The story is set in Single Victor AU where Prim was never reaped but Peeta Mellark was. Peeta went on to win the 74th Hunger Games by himself and Katniss stayed in the Seam and married Gale at age 18. She had two children with him before a mine accident killed Gale and left her financially ruined and starving. In a last-ditch effort to feed her children, she turns to prostitution and finds some unlikely help in the form of the two District 12 victors.

One thing I really liked about this story was the setting felt a lot like the original trilogy. There's a certain grimness and desperation that makes it feel very authentic but the stakes are more adult in nature. There is also some extra world-building. We get to see the before-unseen shady dealings of the Capitol Elite who were not as prominent as in the original trilogy, as well as more of the Vicors/Mentors (from the Quarter Quell) who were previously one-dimensional characters in the original trilogy. By changing the timeline when the story takes place, 12 years after the 74th Hunger Games we get a different view of some very familiar characters, and different perspectives on some characters who were never fleshed out in Suzanne's Catching Fire.

Like the original books, the story starts in District 12 which is a microcosm of what is happening to Panem at large.

Peeta Mellark is back home after weeks of mandatory attendance at festivities in the Capitol. The district is dirty and grey, the people struggling even more than usual. There has been another large mine accident and many families have been affected. Including one familiar protagonist.

Katniss is all grown up with a family. She is once again thrust into the role of sole provider and head of her household. Except this time going beyond the fence to hunt won't save her family in time. She is forced to make the hard decision between her family's survival, staying true to her own values, and holding onto her dignity. Once again she chooses to do whatever is necessary to ensure her loved ones can live another day, which echoes back to the part of Katniss' character we saw in the original trilogy on the night before the start of the Hunger Games where Katniss said she couldn't afford to think about the moral quandies of killing other children because she had her sister to consider. The meaning implied is that Katniss' mindset going into the Games was doing whatever it took to win to get back home to her family because they were counting on her.

On the other side of the equation, we have Peeta Mellark. The story actually starts with his point of view and right off the bat we see that this story's version of Peeta Mellark is more in line with the hijacked version we became familiar with in the Mockingjay novel. Peeta is worn out and barely hanging on. It's been over a decade since he won his games. He's been mentoring children and watching them die for years and he's been sold as a prostitute in the Capitol for almost as long. The story delves into his depression and his alcoholism, as well as his dependence on drugs. It also touches on his past suicide attempts and his suicidal ideation. Yet through all of that, his desire to protect the people that are important to him is still there.

We see from the get-go that even though Katniss never had to go into the arena and Peeta made it out alive, they are still fighting a battle for survival mentally and physically every day. They have both been exploited in different ways and are dealing with the lingering effects of trauma. Katniss with the trauma and grief of losing both her father and the father of her children to the same mine that has killed so many Seam people, and Peeta with having to endure the horrors of being a young and desirable victor sought after by the Capitol elite, as well as mentoring a new crop of tributes every year.

The human tragedies playing out in District 12 set the stage for Katniss and Peeta's paths to cross again merge in new ways and evolve from what we saw in Collins' books. The struggles they face may be slightly different from their teenage counterparts in the original trilogy but one thing I think MockingJayFlyingFree does well is stay true to the inner core of these characters. Katniss is still a consummate survivor who in the right circumstances with the right people is won over by compassion and empathy. While Peeta goes through a horrible ordeal of having his humanity stripped away and becoming a ghost of himself, he is brought back by those who understand his pain, and his mission of trying to save the girl he threw bread to when he was eleven.

Their struggle to stay true to themselves, and find freedom and peace under an oppressive totalitarian regime is very inspiring and at moments heartbreaking. While this story does not have a clear-cut happily ever after it does end on a hopeful note and readers walk away with a very authentic and thought-provoking experience.

I enjoyed reading this story immensely and I can completely see why it's on the list of top ten Huger Games fanfiction stories. I highly recommend this fic to readers who enjoy the grittiness and high stakes of the Hunger Games.

[ladyyatexel]

Fic Snips : Patalliro?

HEY, some of you were struck by my adult Patalliro/Figaro notion, and I wish to tell you more!

For there is so much more. @indigobluerose and @a-cup-of-fantasy have seen Much in this vein, including shit I might never admit to!

As for shit I will admit to, I shall take you on a small journey called "Some of those doodles I posted before have context!" And some context has no doodles, but I hope it is interesting anyway.

Behold:

the foundation of this is that neither of them need to hide anything from the other like they do from everyone else, they're both the cleverest people alive, and they have fun. Thus things like this:

“You know, you're good, but sometimes your face still gives you away.” Figaro plays dumb or innocent or something else he definitely isn't.  “What do you mean?” “You look human most of the time, but sometimes-,” he freezes, striking an elegant pose and adopting a dignified but distant expression, “- you look like an ancient piece of marble.” Figaro blinks, slightly too slowly. “Funny, sometimes your face makes you look almost human.” “Oooh??”  It’s a terrible insult, but it's a good one and it is from Figaro, so it's fun.

Patalliro briefly explains the plot of the other thing I posted:

“When I was ten, I decided that I didn't want to stop doing what I was doing and didn't want time to go forward.  So I moved it.” Patalliro draws along the line and after ten hashes he veers off the course of the line and sends his new line straight upward.  “This way, you can stack things up on it, but it never reaches another year.”  “I didn't notice…” Figaro has more memories than most people, but now he thinks it may be significantly more.   “You were new to being human at the time”  “You can do this?”  “Obviously.” “But it isn't like this now.” This isn't a question.  Figaro feels the shape of time, and the motion of existence.  Things are normal, moving as they should.  “I put it back.”  He continues the line back down to join the horizontal progression, joining back at the eleventh tick on the length. “The day I was here and saw you.” “Me?” “For me then, you were still a baby, but you'd grown, even though you shouldn't have been able to.  I thought you might keep going, but you didn't.  I wanted to see what would happen.” “You could have asked me.”  “While Maraich screamed and kicked me out of the house for interrogating his toddler, yes.” “Ah.” “Oh?  Nothing else to say about that? Just ‘ah’?” “It was very useful at the time.”

Part of the story here was - I've just realized how much backstory I was going to give and thus the true magnitude of how much I've MADE. So there's a 'Figaro marries Patalliro on paper so he has benefits and protection he struggles to get as someone's biologically impossible baby' background to this. It started as a joke, as most things do in this world, but now if anything happens to BanMara, he does not fall through any cracks.

Which then becomes a 'haha, I joke about us being Actual Married and you call me on this and we flail around about this because um what is happening, this should have been normal hanging out'

“Let me know when you want to be really married to me.  I could kiss you all the time and we could turn into those obnoxious kinds of people who make out on benches in the park.” “Okay.” Patalliro is silent for a few seconds, as though waiting for a punchline.   “Do you do this kind of thing to ruin all my jokes now? That's not fair.” “Perhaps your jokes should stop being so easily ruined by reality, then.” “What ‘reality’?” He echoes the word mockingly. “You want me to kiss you?” “Sure.” Patalliro frowns. “You can't do that to everything I say.” “I mean it.  You want to kiss me?” “What is going on?” Patalliro picks up several pillows and makes a show of looking under them. “Am I being filmed or something?” Figaro picks up the last pillow with him, helping him hold it dramatically over their heads like it is shielding them from rain.   “Theatrical refusal to answer means ‘yes,’” Figaro tells him. “Says who?” “Says years of experience with you.” “You’re very confident about this.” “I'm putting on a big flashy front so you can't tell I'm making this up as I go, confused and a little terrified.” “That's…very specific.” “I learned from you.” “Oh,” Patalliro pouts, “and that's very mean.” “It is not.  I said you were inspirational.” “You said I’m making things up!” “You do that all the time.  It usually works in your favor.” Kind of a complement, actually. “I suppose that is right.”

Not unlike this!

This piece is in there somewhere:

“I’ve never kissed someone not as part of a joke before.” “I can act disgusted and hit you, if that will make it feel more familiar.” “What a cold and inhuman thing to say!” 

And this part, which might be my favorite of the 'UH I GUESS THIS IS A KISS NOW??' section:

This is well and good until Figaro starts to laugh.  “First you ruin my jokes and now you really have the mood by the throat.” “Sorry,” Figaro says through a badly restrained laugh.  “It is just that my parents-” “Auuuuuugh.  Mood murdered in its bed by beautiful inhuman blonde assailant.  Local monarchy collapsing.”

Unfortunately for them, they get no time to process this or discuss it and they are both left with mush for brains for a while. In a bit I did make art of, Patalliro decides to cope by becoming one with floor:

The marble tile was cold at first.  Now, hours later, it was almost comfortable. Now, with his face pressed against it, it was all he could see. Made things simple. Felt kind of friendly once he settled in. Maybe he would conduct all the country's business from the tiled floor after this.  Pardons and decrees and budgets, all issued from the comfort of the cold hard floor.  He could do this until Figaro came back.   But then he’d have to figure out what to do when Figaro came back. Figaro, who was so fantastic he was even better than cold hard tile. Figaro, who had been Patalliro’s best friend and all around favorite person for years because of and in spite of being more clever than Patalliro himself.  Figaro, who was not totally human.  Figaro, who was why Patalliro had upended a timeline that suited him so nicely. Figaro, who was the son of his oldest friends. Figaro, who he should not have fallen in love with or allowed to kiss him.  Figaro, whose actions and absence had Patalliro face down on the floor contemplating mortality, morality, and marble. … Footsteps on his tile? Were there still other people in the world on this scale?  “Highness?” A pause.  “Oh.” He discovers the Tamanegi seemingly still exist as the onion troupe member’s shoes encroach on Patalliro’s view of the new sovereign land of Marbinella.  “Highness, you've been down there for… several hours. What are you doing?” “Processing,” he manages.  “Oh?” The voice attached several feet above these shoes sounds hopeful. “The financial reports?” “Mortality,” he replies grimly.  “And morality. And mor -” He rolls onto his side to look up at Tananegi 843. “Moron-ality?” “And who is it that is a dying monster idiot, sir?” The words drop on him like anvils, cannon balls, precariously suspended pianos.  “It’s meee,” he groans miserably, turning his face back into his new kingdom of cold hard smooth problemless tile.

Talking with Maraich about Relevant Things!

“Ah, you've got me alone.  No witnesses, right?” “Patalliro, I'm not going to kill you. Sit down with me.” “I can't help but notice you've specified ‘kill’, which leaves ‘maim’ and ‘dismember’ still on the table.” “No killing or maiming.” “Medieval torture?” “No.” “What about modern torture? I hear they do this thing with water drops in -” “NO. Just be serious!” “Whether I am mortally wounded in this conversation is very serious to me, I assure you.” “Shut up and listen!  It’s about Figaro.” “I guessed, hence my concerns about my mortality.”

And that's probably enough to give you an idea of the initial shape of it! There is a lot. There's more of the scenes here, there's accompanying Figaro in which he think everyone can See It On Him. There's chats with BanMara and ridiculous nonsense. Accidental shenanigans and ones done on purpose. There are wings! It goes on forever, why did I make so much, why am I like this.

I hope this is fun for you to look at!

[darkkitty1208]

The past few weeks before I finally returned from my unofficial hiatus, I've lost a lot of my motivation to write and anything to do with being part of the fandom as a whole. I contemplated quitting and never returning again, deleting all my works and socials and any other trace of me anyone could find, but I know that it's just the anxiety talking and my brain playing tricks with me due to IRL stress and that logically, I *do* have a place here in the fandom space. So I held back.

Now that I'm here again -- and have been welcomed very warmly by dear friends -- the urge to create has finally come around again and I want to get back into writing. It's just that, god, I feel very rusty. It's been quite a while and I feel like the words have run away from me after not using them for so long. I look into my mostly-abandoned WIPs and I can't find the right way to continue them.

But despite that, I decided to do a bit of the good ol' self-projecting and started a WIP (instead of finishing my old ones, lol). It's not much, but it's something. I felt compelled to share in hopes it would motivate me to write some more. This is all I've got so far, and it is admittedly very rough, but it's getting there.

~

Here’s the thing: healing isn't linear.

These are words repeated over and over again by those who you wouldn't think ever even had to heal. They're the kind of words that would lose its meaning the more they're said, and have you start wondering if to some people, they ever had any sort of meaning to begin with.

You can never really tell where it starts or where it finishes, or how it happened or if it ever did happen, the same way the flawed five stages of grief could never explain the true act of mourning and the same way your every emotion defies anything your logic could ever tell you.

Sometimes, Stephen finds, some things are just unexplainable like that.

Sometimes, Stephen doesn't think he's capable of healing. Sometimes, especially in nights where every bit of his sanity starts to fall apart and each choking breath would sting as it enters his damned lungs, he thinks he's too far gone to be capable of it at all.

(Sometimes he would sit silently and stare into nothing, thinking about the way nobody would understand that at some point in his life, he wasn't the man he used to be anymore. Sometimes he could feel it, the thing that consumed him, that took away who he was, and the way it would take up every space in his ribcage and burn his insides like acid, the way it would rip apart the space in his chest where his heart used to be. Sometimes he would think about it, and the way that it makes him nothing but an empty shell of a man. Every day that thing would grow inside of him and one day, it might ruin him; as if he isn't already far too broken to begin with.)

But it's here, in the roof of a sentient building he's grown to call his home where various pots are neatly arranged in small shelves, with his trembling fingers digging into rich soil and dirt sticking underneath his fingernails, that he starts to find proof that maybe, he had the capability after all.

It's here that he understands why humans would pick up a trowel and spend so much time getting on their hands and knees to dirty themselves with grimes of dirt.

There's something about the green of the Earth and the smell of her moist dirt in the early mornings, damp from the moon's tears, that soothes a part of him that he couldn't quite identify. There's something comforting about the mindless action of digging and burying and placing and watering. There's something comforting about knowing that his damaged fingers could sprout life even if it all depended on time.

But that's the thing, isn't it? Everything is just a matter of time.

(Sometimes he wishes healing isn't linear, the way he wishes time doesn't march on an ascending line.)

He remembers the same damp smell of moss and the same smudges of dirt on the knees of his trousers back then, the first time he was taught about gardening and farming and sprouting life from seeds.

He had still been a small boy in Nebraska, back then. He had been young, and he had never understood patience the way he does now. He didn't understand that what he planted was something that, if anything, was considered a miracle, and that miracles took time, and that miracles don't last forever. He didn't understand that life and decay is just a matter of time, and that everything including himself would eventually be nothing but rotting flesh and cracked bones, becoming one with the earth and consumed by the maggots and mushrooms.

Because that's the thing: everything is just a matter of time.

The experience had meant nothing to him then, and had taught him nothing much of anything at all, but it means something to him now.