#No need to start any discussion about this

[cutielando]

my baby | l.n.

synopsis: in which you bring your son to his daddy’s first ever race

a/n: based on this request!! i changed things up a little and only made it fluffy, hope you like it!!

my masterlist

Ever since your son was born, you and Lando had had multiple talks regarding exposing him to the world and bringing him to the paddock.

He was still so little, being only a few months old, so there was a lot of discussion between the two of you about when would be a good time to finally introduce your son to that part of Lando’s life.

You debated a lot about firstly which race would be the best one for him to attend, finally settling on Silverstone. It was a very special race for the both of you, it was Lando’s favorite race weekend, his whole family would be coming and would be able to eagerly help, should any situations arise during the weekend, you were close to your UK home.

It was honestly the best decision in that aspect.

McLaren had been so kind as to send you some little T-shirts with Lando’s name and number on the back, some headphones so you could protect Noah’s ears. He was all ready to go, all clad in his papaya shirt and little cap.

However, as much as Lando had been looking forward to finally having the both of you in the paddock since Noah’s birth, he was suddenly feeling more anxious as you’re about to leave the house and go to the track.

You noticed the frown he had on his face and how deep in thought he seemed to be, walking over to him with Noah right on your hip, sucking on his pacifier in silence.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” you asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it affectionately.

“You agree this is a good idea, right? We’re not rushing him into this, it’s completely okay and safe to bring him with us” he asked, looking at you with worried eyes.

Looking at him so desperate for reassurance, you remember your first days as a new mom, worrying about every single thing that Noah would do, what you should do with him and what you shouldn’t, calling your mother and Lando’s mother every half an hour with another question.

It’s normal for new parents to be anxious, and Lando was now feeling the protectiveness that came with having a baby of your own and bringing him out into the world.

“Baby, we’ve talked about this. We have it all figured out. Your family is going to be there if anything does happen, we have your whole team there who are more than eager to help with anything. We’ll be fine, this little guy will have the time of his life” you said, smiling at the quiet boy in your arms and bouncing him in your arms, chuckling alongside Noah as he started to giggle and wave his arms in the air.

Lando smiled, looking at Noah like he was the center of his universe, like nothing could ever measure up to how much love he had for his son.

He was ready, so there was no reason why Lando shouldn’t be ready. After all, he had you by his side.

He didn’t need anything else if he had you.

“Alright, let’s get going then” he declared, sitting up and taking Noah’s bag from you, determined to carry everything to the car by himself.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you adjusted little Noah on your hip.

“Let’s go and bring daddy some good luck, shall we?” you cooed at Noah, admiring his little smile and clap when he heard the word “daddy” in a sentence.

Such a daddy’s boy.

♡♡♡♡♡

“Do you want me to turn the car around and just take you guys home? I’m sure nobody would mind” Lando said as soon as he parked the car in his designated spot.

You looked at him confused.

“Why? Did something happen?” you asked, keeping an eye on Noah who was currently too busy playing with his feet to pay attention to the two of you.

Lando sighed, resting his head against the seat and closing his eyes.

“I just think we’re rushing into it. He’s still young and I’m worried that something could happen to him while I’m in the car” he confessed, and you let out a knowing sigh.

“I know you’re stressed out and worried, but you have nothing to worry about. I’m going to be with him the entire time and your entire family is going to be with me. He literally can’t be more taken care of” you said, joking a little at the end to help him breathe a little.

Lando smiled, chuckling a little before twisting around to look at you in the backseat.

His eyes naturally gravitated towards Noah, who was happily playing with his McLaren teddy bear the team had gifted Lando when Noah was born.

“Sometimes I wish we could keep him away from all of this for the rest of his life” he said, his eyes focused on his son.

"I know, but right now, you don't have to worry about him. You know I won't let him out of my sight" you said, making Lando smile at the thought of you going all mama bear on your son.

"Alright then, off we go" Lando unbuckled his seatbelt, exiting the car and opening your door for you.

He made quick work to grab the diaper bag and all of his essentials while you lifted Noah up from his car seat and settled him on your hip, cooing at the smiley little boy.

"Ready?" Lando asked as he came to stand next to you, putting his arm on the small of your back and leaning down to press a kiss on Noah's head.

"Are you ready to see dada race?" you cooed at Noah, tickling his tummy lightly, which prompted him to burst into giggles.

“My lucky charms” Lando whispered, looking at the two of you with so much love.

He truly couldn’t have asked for anything better in his life. The trophies, the wins, the losses, they didn’t compare to this. To you, to your son, nothing could ever compete with how much Lando cared for his family.

As you started walking towards the paddock entrance, your passes clutched in Lando’s hand, you kept Noah close to you, trying to shield his face from the cameras as best as you could.

You softly maneuvered his head so his face was buried into the crook of your neck, which Noah immediately complied with because he loved it when you held him close.

“I’ll do my best to hold them off” Lando whispered as he scanned your passes and already noticed the hoard of paparazzis that were waiting for him to arrive.

You nodded, smiling politely at the cameramen as Lando quickly walked with you towards the McLaren hospitality.

Clicks and flashes could be heard all around you, every single one trying to get a glimpse of your baby boy, but Lando was having none of it.

“Lando! Over here!”

“Is that your son?”

“Can we see him? Just a picture”

Every single word fell on deaf ears as Lando continued to lead the three of you away from them, thankful when the shouts ceased and there was nobody around you anymore.

“They sure know how to try and get what they want” you said, letting out a big breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding in.

“It’s an invasion of privacy, they should have some respect, especially when they can see I’m with my family” he grumbled, his jaw muscles clenched.

You slowed down your walk until you came to a halt, resting your hand against his cheek.

“Hey, we’re okay. Calm down, we’re both fine, okay?” you said, waiting for an answer as Noah started squirming in your arms.

“Yeah, I’m good” Lando replied after finally feeling himself calm down a tad, resuming your walk towards the hospitality.

When you arrived and entered the building, the first thing that you saw was Lando’s family eagerly chatting amongst themselves, clearly waiting for the 3 of you to finally arrive.

You didn’t even get to think about anything before Noah was taken from your arms by Lando’s sister, Flo, cooing at him and beaming at the smiley boy.

There was nothing more pure and warming than seeing the bond between Lando’s family and your son. He was also the first grandchild on your side of the family, so that little boy was as spoiled as one could be.

“How are you doing, dear?” Cisca snapped you out of your thoughts as she came to stand next to you, Lando having gone to his driver’s room to unpack his things.

“I’m okay, a little tired from the jet-lag, but doing alright. A little nervous to have Noah here with me, but you all being here puts mine and Lando’s mind more at ease” you said, giving your mother-in-law a side hug.

“Was he terrible when you were talking about coming with Noah?” she asked, smiling knowingly.

You laughed, shaking your head affectionately at how well she knew Lando.

“He freaked out about 4 times before we even got out of the car” you said, making the woman laugh.

Lando emerged into the room again, immediately frowning once he saw that Noah was still not back in your arms.

Both you and Cisca watched as his eyes searched the entire room for him, finally settling on the boy happily babbling to his auntie Flo, Lando immediately going over to them.

And as you all sat there with each other, both you and Lando realized what a great support system you had and what a perfect family you have built together.

His win, of course, only solidifying his saying that you were both “his lucky charms”.

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[ellecdc]

hello elle!! i saw you asking for pregnant reader/ dad marauders and i was thinking maybe one about one of them reading about baby’s and music and they’re all discussing what kind of music they wanna play if they want classical or baby music and tiny baby who cannot care any less just starts crawling towards the vinyls and picks something like bowie or queen?? i can imagine sirius losing his mind about it, i just know it would be funny!! i love the ones you’ve made so far i’m obsessed, you’re so talented <3

aaah so cute! thanks for the request!!! <3

dad!marauders x mum!reader who try to musicify their child [850 words]

CW: kid fic, written as fem!reader but no gender is specified - Remus calls you dove, one slightly dirty joke if you want it to be, fluff [I tried to avoid naming their kid for this one but it didn't feel right. I know I like to have Sirius' daughter's name to be 'Aurora' but idk what to do with poly fics yet]

You’d long since given up on trying to spare your child from their father’s nonsense. You have a feeling that Remus had too, though he couldn’t always help but stoke the coals of nonsense where he saw fit.

“I think it’s fine she’s not said her first word yet!” Sirius commented from the floor, sitting cross legged with his arms held aloft should he need to catch your daughter if her chubby little legs gave out on her. “Some say that if it takes them a long time to start speaking, then they’ll just start speaking in full sentences.”

“Yeah?” Remus commented sceptically as he sifted through the mail. “Who’s they?” 

“The books! The baby books!”

“The baby books?” Remus deadpanned, shooting you wink to let you know he was taking the piss.

“Yes! That’s why we need to start her on music now.” Sirius proclaimed, earning him a scoff from James who was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, also supervising your toddlers toddling. 

“Oh? We need to start her on music now? But when I wanted to start her on music back-”

“You didn’t want to start her on music, Jamie.” Sirius scolded. “You wanted to start her on ABBA.” 

“You take that back.” James demanded, pointing a severe finger at Sirius.

“Okay, okay.” Remus commented with his hands up placatingly. “Let’s all just take it easy, alright? There’s no need for this to escalate.” 

Sirius and James stared each other down a moment longer before they relented. 

“But we should probably get her started on Beethoven or Motzart.” Remus added as he disappeared into the kitchen, earning him ‘oi’s of protest from his two most theatrical partners.

“You’re trying to make my daughter boring.” Sirius accused.

“No.” Remus argued as he returned with a frozen teether for said daughter, moving to sit on the couch next to the chair you were situated in. “I’m trying to make our daughter intelligent.” 

“Y/N.” James whined then, causing you to look up from the book you were only pretending to read. “Moony’s trying to turn our daughter into a swot.”

“Remus.” You drawled in your most bored tone.

Remus played the part of a beat down suburban father. “Yes dear?” 

“Stop trying to give our daughter a fighting chance in McGonagall’s advanced transfiguration course.”

“Yes dear.”

“Thank you.” Sirius professed, smiling greatly at the child when she gurgled something around the teether. “Is that right, sweet girl? That almost sounded like the Arabic in the bridge of Bohemian Rhapsody!” 

“No,” James argued, “that sounded like the opening notes of Super Trouper.” 

“It sounded like the poor thing is cutting another tooth.” You countered as you held your arms open, earning you a slobbery smile around the teether she refused to spit out, watching as she took two unstable steps towards you before falling onto her bum. 

“Our little lovie won’t let that slow her down though, will she?” James cheered, earning him a squeal from his daughter as she took off crawling in the opposite direction.

“What would be her first words if she started speaking in full sentences, though?” You pondered aloud as you watched her stand on her knees in front of the record collection, banging her teether against the legs of the turntable. 

“Probably reminding Sirius to ‘use a sodding coaster’.” James chuckled.

“Or the common conciliatory ‘okay, moons’.” Remus snorted. 

“No! It should absolutely be ‘I solemnly swear I am up to no good’!” Sirius interjected.

“That’s kind of a mouthful for a wee babe.” Remus considered.

“You’re kind of a mouthful.” Sirius muttered.

“What about ‘mischief managed’?” You offered then, causing all three boys to sigh sentimentally. 

“No.” Sirius decided after a moment. “Her first word will definitely be ‘dove’.”

“I agree.” James added with a nod in your direction. “That’s probably the most said word in this house.”

“That’s not true.” Remus argued; his cheeks dusted with the faintest pink. 

Any further teasing at Remus’ sake was curtailed by an excited squeal from the child who was now standing at her full height with a record in one hand and its sleeve in the other.

“No way!” Both James and Sirius chorused, though it was James in excitement and Sirius in devastation. 

James all but launched himself at his daughter and scooped her up into his arms, eliciting even more delighted squealing as he placed the record of her choosing on the turntable and hit play. 

And what started playing from your well-used record player but Side Two of ABBA’s Greatest Hits Vol. 2.

“You can dance! You can jive! Having the time of your life; ooooh!” James sang horribly out of tune to his daughter's delight and Sirius’ chagrin as you and Remus shared a look. 

“She’s not going to stand a chance in advanced transfiguration, is she?” 

“Perhaps not,” you offered as you watched James sing loudly at Sirius who beamed up at James and their daughter from his place on the floor, forgoing any act of irritation as he sang and bobbed along for your baby's sake, “but at least she’ll know how to dance.”

[heesimp]

hiii can I be 🦢 anon!

I was thinking maybe reader sexing prof heeseung

swan is saved for you! enjoy this drabble xxx

-

“Aren’t your students coming soon?”

“I hope so.” Heeseung smiles down at you wickedly but it doesn’t stop you from looking up at him from where you sit on his desk in the empty classroom. It’s a free period for him and he’s called you in under the guise of revising a paper, but you know better than to believe that. You smack his chest at his innuendo.

Everybody knows who Heeseung is: a great professor who is as passionate about teaching as he is when it comes to literature. He started as a TA at this university before obtaining his PhD in literary studies and passes on his love for knowledge to his students.

You sit in the third row just shy from the center in your pretty dresses that are modest enough to wear to class but stylish too. Unlike the rest of your classmates, you aren’t afraid to answer Heeseung’s questions and raise your hand to give you input either. He likes that about you and it’s what made you his favorite student.

Heeseung loves ambition in people because he sees it in himself. He loves it when his students have that drive to them and loves reading papers and grading test scores from his brightest pupils. It makes him so proud.

You fit in his life somehow in ways he hadn’t imagined. You, with your supple skin and bright mind enticed Heeseung the first time you took advantage of his office hours. You’d been the first student to visit him and talk about the course material, and it didn’t help that you were wearing a short skirt on a hot day with your thighs sticking to the leather seat below you. He went home that night and touched himself to the thought of gripping your thighs as he fucked you in his office.

The first time the two of you were alone at a late hour on campus was by accident. You couldn’t make it to his office hours and asked to schedule for a time after classes were over and spent an hour discussing the lesson plan and your favorite authors. The second time was by accident too, as he had run into you at the library during the evening and offered to walk you to your car since it was so late at night.

The third time was by accident as well, except neither of you cared that clothes weren’t involved. Now, he conceals kisses with you in between your classes and his, and keeps his doors locked when you come in to have lunch with him.

“I have thirty minutes before my next class starts and you, baby, have an hour before your exam. Shouldn’t you be studying?”

“Stayed up all night just so I could do this with you now,” you say, pulling Heeseung closer to you by pushing your legs around him. He holds your waist and you position your crotch right against his. He’s hard already. “Besides, I perform better after I cum.”

“Mm, is that right?”

“Yes, professor. Haven’t you ever wondered why I test well with your cum sitting inside of me?”

“So dirty for me.” Heeseung dips down to press his lips right on top of yours like he’s been dying for a taste all morning. “Makes me wanna fuck you real hard.”

“You have thirty minutes.”

Your sultry voice lures him right in. He doesn’t have enough time for foreplay and fears that someone might need him before he’s set to begin teaching so he pulls his cock out of his pants before shoving them down until they reach his ankles. You did him a favor by wearing a dress today and when he pushes a hand underneath to push your panties to the side, he groans when he realizes you aren’t wearing any.

Heeseung pushes the tip inside of your wet hole and looks you in the eye. “You’re trouble.”

“You like that though, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says, pushing himself further inside of you until you’re arching your chest into him, “I really do. My naughty girl.”

His hips thrust in and out of you at a nice pace. You feel him within your walls and push yourself off of the table with the palm of your hands to angle yourself towards him better with his wet dick sloshing around you. It seeps down onto his balls and Heeseung puts his own hands on the desk beside you in order to kiss you.

“Did you complete your online assignment?”

“Really, Hee? You’re asking me that now?”

Heeseung smirks and pushes himself in and out of you faster until you’re yelping against his lips. “Yeah, I am. Don’t want my best student to fall behind just because she’s drunk over some cock. Did you finish it, Y/N?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Do you think you did a good job?”

“I did!” you whine against him as Heeseung kisses your neck. “I double checked my references!”

“Perfect student with a perfect pussy.” He pulls back far enough to see his cock disappearing inside of you. “Wooooow. Would you look at that?”

“Wish you would come fuck me in my dorm,” you whine. “I hate fucking in your office.”

“You like my bed though, don’t you? My bed is much bigger than the pathetic twin the university gives you.”

“Yeah, but think about it. It’s really hot when you know we shouldn’t be fucking there.”

He shakes his head and kisses your lips to silence you. “Can’t risk getting seen by other students, baby. Fucking in my office is risky enough.”

“Then you should make me cum so we don’t get caught.”

Heeseung heeds your warning and uses the strength in his legs to push you onto the desk until your legs are in the air. His hands come to your calves to keep your legs apart just how he likes you to be, watching your silk-like pussy folds envelope him like you’re a siren waiting to ruin him.

You come when he comes. That feeling of sudden warmth in your hole makes you go insane every time he does it. Heeseung pulls out enough to watch as the rest of his cum drips onto your folds until he’s soft enough to clean the two of you up. He wipes you down with a spare tissue before he leans down to lick one strip up your pussy and kissing your clit before closing your legs for you.

“Same time tomorrow?” You bat your eyelashes at him and he laughs.

“I have a faculty meeting, unfortunately…Why don’t you spend the weekend with me?”

“Oh? And do what professor?”

“I think you know what.”

He wills himself not to get hard again.

[freakyformula]

Have my baby - Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+, breeding kink obviously, creampie, unprotected sex

Word count: 1,4k

I feel like you’d realise that Max has a raging breeding kink right in the middle of a heated makeout session one ordinary Tuesday night.

"Damn, schat, you're so beautiful… Wanna put a baby in you so bad."

His comment freezes both of you. He must have realised what he just said and stopped in his tracks, scanning you for a reaction. But your face is blank, free of any emotion.

You're in shock, Max had never even mentioned having kids of your own before. Sure, you both knew that you wanted kids someday but you had not discussed it further until now. Besides, Max was good with children, and the biggest dream you had was to have a baby with him. But his admission came as a surprise.

You huff, "Baby, huh?" Gazing up at his icy blue eyes. They were filled with shame, and his head sunk into the crook of your neck with a sigh. Your hands sink into his thick hair, and you can't help but pull on it slightly, encouraging him to look up again.

"Max, look at me." You tell him, and he does, still with that adorable frown on his face.

"Say it again." You order.

"I'm not doing that, Y/N." Max quickly replies.

You sigh. "I didn't know you had a breeding kink, Max." You wink at him.

You're really into the idea. "Baby…" You whisper while playing with his hair and brushing over your stomach, imagining feeling a baby bump under your hand.

"Liefje, I didn't mean to-" He starts, his tone slightly panicked, but you stop him before he can explain himself.

"I like that, Max." You admit. As you say that, his eyes widen in surprise.

"Really?" He coos while peppering your face with kisses.

"Yeah…" You giggle. "I mean, I wasn't exactly ready to hear that from you but I like it."

Max lets out a laugh, "I wasn't thinking, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything."

You shush him, "You didn't, trust me."

He offers you a faint smile as he traces his hand against your cheek.

"Can I remove these?" Max asks rather desperately, pointing to your jeans, making you nod and assisting him in dragging them off.

When the sweet smell of you hits him, he inhales and lets out a small whimper. "God, smell heavenly…"

His words make you blush, and while he's busy taking your underwear off, you look down at his bulge.

"Need you so bad, Maxie." You whine while palming his jeans.

He answers with a couple of thrusts against your hand, feeling desperate to have you and to get out of the tightening lock-up of his pants.

Something in him switches when he sees your pussy, and he manhandles your tiny figure onto your hands and knees.

"Please Max, need you." You beg. Your hand slides down to your heat, and you're already soaked. As you're playing with your clit, you slide two fingers in, stretching yourself for him.

You hear the clinking of his belt behind you, and you look back at him, arching your back further, allowing him to see you even better.

"Such a tease…" He chuckles, and you feel something slide along your slit. Something wet and familiar. You recognize it as his tongue almost instantly, and you can't help letting out a moan.

"Hmmm, taste even better." He whispers against your core. As he's licking and sucking on your clit, his nose brushes against your seeping hole, wetting his face.

You feel yourself getting closer by the second as you feel two of his fingers penetrate you and curl up against your G-spot.

Max feels the way you're clenching around his fingers, almost cutting off blood supply to his poor digits.

Before you even had the chance to react, you came. The feeling of him on you is overwhelming and you're frantically trying to get away, but he's holding himself and you in place, still sucking on your clit and fingering you frantically.

When you've come down, Max pulls his fingers out and collapses beside you, stroking your flushed cheek with his fingers.

"So what do you say, schat?" He asks, his eyes filled with adoration.

"About what?"

He pauses before he speaks, "Let's have a baby." He says, still looking at you.

"Max…" You try to sound serious but the thought of having his baby is tempting. "You're away all the time for work. It wouldn't work."

"I'll quit if you want me to. Just have a baby with me."

Silence. You try to come up with a good excuse, but the post-orgasm haze makes it hard. The only reason you're waiting is because of his career. And if he quits, there's no reason for you to wait. "You can't stop racing just because you want a baby, Max."

"Watch me, Y/N… Besides, if we make a baby now, it'll be born in the off-season, it's perfect!" He tries to resonate.

"You've planned this really well, haven't you?" You giggle.

"Mhm… You would make the most beautiful mama. You and pregnancy would complement each other." He coos while rolling you over onto your back, kissing you all over your face, making you burst out in laughter.

"Okay, okay, I give up!" You laugh, allowing Max to hover over you.

"Let's make a baby." You whisper, not sure if he heard you.

"Oh… Love." He sighs contently while pulling your hoodie off and freeing himself from his jeans and underwear. "I love you." He leans in and catches your mouth in a searing kiss, his cheeks flushing with each word.

The thought of making love to you without any barriers, feeling you for real, sends Max reeling.

His knees push your legs apart, placing himself between them. Max can't help capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, tasting your lips with his tongue. Excitement runs through him as you run your fingers down his body to his pulsating member, you grab it and give it a few pumps before brushing it against your cunt, collecting the slick from your previous orgasm on his tip.

"Are you really sure about this?" He asks for confirmation one last time.

"I'm sure of it, Max." You reply, giving his nose a gentle kiss.

Max is beaming at you when he hears the words, and slowly slides into you, connecting two bodies into one. When the tip is in, you stop him with a hand on his stomach. You would never get used to his size. "It's okay, schat, take a moment." He tries to comfort you.

Once you've adjusted to him, you nod to indicate your readiness to continue. He slowly burrows into you, ensuring you feel okay and as comfortable as possible while showering you with praise and encouragement.

"Doing so well for me, liefje."

"Looking so good like this."

"Our babies will be just as beautiful as you."

"I'm so lucky to have you."

When he bottoms out, you moan out brokenly, as does he. The feeling of him sheathed in you almost sends you into a raging orgasm instantly, in any case, you're close.

"Look at me, Y/N." He asks as he pumps into you. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you are desperately trying to keep yourself together. When you hear his words though, you open your eyes, only to find him close, looking at your contorted face. The sight of him aids your impending orgasm, and you're pushed over the edge with the help of his thrusts.

As you moan out your second orgasm, you suck Max' delicious lower lip into your mouth, while rocking your hips to get some kind of relief. Max doesn't let you come down this time and continues pumping into you, increasing his pace.

You are both a moaning mess; kissing, sucking, licking each other wherever your mouths happen to land.

"Can't wait to see your stomach swell with my child, lieve." Max stills, out of breath, drops of sweat decorating his forehead. He stills in you, pulling your legs up on his shoulders, folding you in half. The change of angle, his tip against your G-spot, drives you into a frenzy. You're hyper-aware of everything happening, his hands on your body leaving goosebumps wherever he touches, his eyes on you, feeling like fire, his thrusts, god, you're going to cum again.

You clench around him, "My god, I'm close." Max announces, "Please, cum with me." He begs while he picks up the pace, slamming into your cervix again and again until you both yell in ecstasy. You feel streaks of his seed painting your insides while you milk his member dry.

Max collapses on top of you, spent and tired. "Jesus, Y/N."

You giggle into his shoulder, you too feeling tired, but happy.

"What if it actually sticks on the first try?" You ask.

"Might as well go for another round to up our chances." Max winks at you.

[swappermanent]

Life in Retrospect (Part 3)

Staring into the mirror, with the necklace resting cool and heavy against my chest, I considered my next move. If I was going to convince the amulet—and myself—that this body was mine, I needed to make some changes, starting with the basics.

First things first, Mikey’s wardrobe was atrocious.

I rifled through his drawers and closet, finding an endless array of dry-fit shirts in bright, clashing colors and tank tops emblazoned with gym logos. Sure, being a gym bro was hot—I could see the appeal—but the looks were uninspired. He’d draw even more attention if he put in just a little effort.

“Time for a style upgrade,” I muttered, giving my reflection a grin that felt more confident than any expression I’d worn in years.

Memories surfaced of the days when I’d been known for my sharp sense of fashion—tailored suits, leather jackets, crisp shirts that turned heads on the street. I wasn’t about to step back into the polished looks of my old life; I needed something that fit this younger, edgier version of myself.

I hit the thrift stores like a man on a mission. Racks of vintage leather jackets, oversized sweaters, slim-fit jeans, and distressed tees called out to me. I practically cleaned out half a dozen stores, arms loaded with pieces that oozed effortless cool. My bank account took a serious hit, but I didn’t care. This was an investment—in keeping this life, this body.

“You’re gonna love this,” I whispered to the amulet, feeling it warm slightly against my skin.

Back at home, I tried everything on. A brown leather bomber jacket that fit like a second skin, vintage denim that hugged my legs just right, oversized sweaters that spoke of casual mornings at a café—I couldn’t help but admire the transformation. I looked hot as fuck.

The necklace vibrated against my chest, sending a shiver down my spine. Over the next few days, I noticed the dizzy spells became fewer and farther between, a sign that the amulet approved of the shifts I was making. But I knew this wasn’t enough.

Next, I tried changing up my day routines and friends. I started off by pulling away from the gym bro crowd and the endless banter about protein shakes and reps. Instead, I spent more time at cafes with people who shared my real interests, discussing books and philosophy. I went to art galleries, soaking in the quiet, contemplative energy that contrasted so sharply with the loud, boisterous nights out Mikey used to have.

But still, I felt that nagging doubt—the sense that it wasn’t enough. I was racking my brain, wondering what more I could do. I didn’t know Mikey well enough to pinpoint exactly what would be out of character, what would truly convince the amulet that I had made this body mine.

The answer was out there. I just had to find it.

---

One night, I found myself at a cozy little art event downtown with some of my new friends. The atmosphere was low-lit, filled with laughter and the quiet murmur of conversations over wine and soft jazz. I felt like I belonged here—a far cry from the sweaty gym floors and blaring music of Mikey’s usual haunts.

I’d been chatting up this guy at my table, a sharp, well-dressed guy named Ollie, who had a laugh that made my stomach do a flip every time I heard it.

Then, out of nowhere, it hit me—a realization that made me almost laugh out loud. Mikey wasn’t gay. There was no way he’d be flirting like this with a guy. This was exactly my chance to cement the swap.

leaned in, giving Ollie a smile that I knew, with Mikey’s rugged jawline and smoldering eyes, would have a hell of an effect. Sure enough, Ollie blushed, his gaze flickering down as I held his attention with just enough tension.

Eventually, we ended up heading back to my place. The anticipation buzzed between us, almost tangible, as we made our way up the stairs. I opened the door, pulling him in with a grin, and wasted no time.

The second the door closed, I reached for the hem of my shirt, peeling it off in one smooth motion. Ollie’s eyes went wide, his gaze magnetized by my bare chest, staring at the thick pecs that looked even better in this new, rough lighting. He was practically speechless, caught between awe and desire as he ran a hand up my chest.

“Damn,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, fingers tracing the defined lines of my muscles.

We moved to the bedroom, and the moment our bodies pressed together, the heat between us spiked. I guided Ollie onto the bed, pulling him close as he shifted onto his hands and knees, glancing back at me with excitement and just a hint of nervousness.

I took my time, positioning myself behind him, savoring the anticipation. With a firm hand, I stroked along his back, moving down over his shoulders and arms, then brushing over his toned torso. I could feel him relaxing under my touch, his body trusting me to lead. With a soft, reassuring whisper, I pressed the tip in, and he gasped, gripping the sheets.

“Relax,” I murmured, leaning down to trail a few kisses along his shoulder blades. My other hand moved to his biceps, kneading gently, helping him ease into the moment.

Slowly, I slid in a bit more, feeling him tense and then loosen as my hands worked their way over his muscles, calming him. I kept the pace unhurried, my hand still exploring his back, his shoulders, even reaching around to his chest, keeping him anchored in the moment.

Once he adjusted, I began moving, each thrust steady and deep. The sound of our breaths and the rhythm of my hips filled the room as we found a powerful flow.

I wrapped my hand around Ollie’s cock, stroking him slowly in time with my thrusts. He groaned, his breath coming in shuddering gasps as I picked up the rhythm, making sure he felt every sensation. It wasn’t long before he was practically writhing beneath me, his body responding to my touch, every inch of him pulsing with desire.

“Come for me,” I murmured in his ear, my voice low and coaxing. I wanted him to feel everything, to lose himself completely. And as I stroked him, watching the tension build in his face, his breathing hitched, his muscles tensing under my hands.

With a sharp gasp, Ollie finally came, his whole body trembling as he moaned, tightening around me. That sudden grip drove me over the edge. The intense pleasure hit me hard, and with a deep groan, I gave in, shuddering as I shot my load into his perky, smooth ass.

Laying back and catching my breath, the necklace pulsed against my chest, vibrating harder than it ever had before. I waited, half expecting something dramatic—a flash of light, maybe a jolt through my body that would make this transformation permanent. But, like before, nothing actually happened.

The next morning, as the first light filtered in through the blinds, I got dressed slowly, savoring every step. I slipped on one of my new outfits, a tight tank that clung to my shoulders, showing off my defined biceps, and fitted jeans that emphasized my strong legs. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but admire the transformation—the way this body wore confidence like a second skin.

Ollie stirred on the bed, watching me with a sleepy smile as I flexed my arm a little, just to see if he’d notice. He did. His eyes widened slightly, and I could tell he liked the show. I walked over, leaned down, and kissed him slowly, savoring the warm feeling that spread through me at the touch.

“That was… amazing,” I said, holding his gaze. "I’d really love to see you again, like, on an actual date. What do you say?"

As the words left his mouth, the necklace around my neck flared up in a frenzy, vibrating and heating until it felt like it was radiating warmth through every inch of me. I felt cascades of pleasure as if I was having 10 orgasms all at once. In that moment, I knew, this body was mine forever.

It was the missing piece, I realized. Mikey hadn’t been the type to ask for a second date or care about much beyond the night itself. For him, a hasty exit before sunrise would’ve been enough. But by wanting something real, something lasting, I’d pushed just far enough out of character to claim this life as mine for good.

Ollie sat up, grinning, oblivious to my inner transformation, and ran a hand over my shoulder. “I’d like that too. A lot.” He flashed a look at my huge biceps. "So… when should we make this date happen?” he asked, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"How about this weekend?" I replied, pulling him in for another kiss before standing up to grab my shirt.

As I pulled it over my head, the necklace finally cooled, a final confirmation that I was here to stay. I felt lighter, stronger, more alive in this body than ever. I glanced back at Ollie with a smirk, already planning out the rest of the day, and I couldn’t help but think, Damn, it feels good to be Mikey.

[luvvyouforever]

i am my father's daughter - declan o'hara x rupert's daughter!reader

synopsis: you knew you shouldn't be doing this, flirting with your dad's friend and business partner. but he's so irresistible!

content: age gap relationship (ages not specified), maud doesn't exist au, not very canon compliant just ignore it, nsfw themes, dbf trope, accidental tense switching (ignore it)

author's note: declan is sooooo hunky #needthat also this is a rather short piece but if you'd like to see a continuation of dbf declan, i would absolutely provide <3

you're quite positive that nobody has looked as good in a t-shirt as declan o'hara does now in the front of the priory's living room, leading an open discussion about what is next for the budding production company. his biceps flex underneath the thin material when he lifts his arm in a gesture and despite your efforts to remain focused on the conversation at hand, it's difficult when all you've been able to think about since he moved in is declan.

for a month or two after he and his two daughters moved in, he had been the sole object of your daydreaming. he was so strong, so intelligent, so witty on the television, so...everything.

however, there was little that you could do on that front, considering the last name that appears on your birth certificate and the fact that rupert campbell-black, your father, and declan hated each other. it was a rather difficult watch, the night declan interviewed him, but with rupert bonding with declan over their love for their small families, it became much easier to slink your way into his presence. thankfully.

then, it became regular to see declan in your home, or to see you and rupert in his. he was hard to depart from, what with his deep, thick accented voice and his wavy hair he kept running his hands through, and that t-shirt, that damn t-shirt. you lived in pure, unending agony for a while, having to be so close to him all the time without being able to give in to this torturous desire.

but then he started blatantly running a large hand over your back as he passed behind you and then he started making eye contact with you across the room and then he helped you with car troubles where he stood tantalizingly close behind you while showing you how to check your oil.

your father doesn't need to know that you've kissed and made out with and sucked off his friend and business partner. right?

when declan finishes his speech in the front of the living room, he makes his way through the crowd to the table in the back with a few drinks and refreshments laid out by taggie where you just so happen to be standing.

his eye contact with you is unwavering as he comes closer and closer to you and there's a smirk growing on his lips.

"could you be any more obvious with your ogling there, dear?" he says quietly once he reaches your side.

you scoff, but you know what he's saying is true. "i wasn't doing anything of the sort, mr o'hara. i'm just admiring your leadership and passion for venturer, is all," you whisper.

he leans against the table, then, watching as the crowd before him mingle with each other, completely oblivious to the conversation happening between you and him. even your father seems to be swept up into conversation on the other side of the room. he turns his neck side-to-side, clearly aware of the way that his shoulders and back tense underneath the tight shirt. your eyes betray your previous statement as they immediately flick to the sight, then flick downwards.

he chuckles and takes the smallest of steps closer to you. "so you like the shirt, then, i take it?"

a small blush overtakes your cheeks and you refuse to meet his eye. suddenly, you feel his body tilt towards yours, lips just before your ear.

"i can let you take it off me if you come over tonight."

his deep voice reverberated through your body, sending chills down your neck and spine. subconsciously, your back arched from the table you were learning on and he let out another laugh.

a few hours later, you found yourself slipping quietly out of penscombe, positively giddy. the walk to the priory was one you had done plenty of times and you knew it like the back of your hand, really. slowly, the centuries old building came into view and several feet up the wall was a window with its lights still on. declan's.

as he'd done before, he met you at the back door of the home, one that leads into the kitchen, a smug look on his face.

"you took my offer quite readily," he said. his big frame leaned against the door and he crossed his arms. still adorning him was that damn t-shirt.

"as if you weren't kicking your feet waiting for me," you retort, then come to stand before him.

he shakes his head then and a sly smile tilts the corners of his mouth up. he removes his body from the frame and steps to the side to let you inside. as you pass him, a firm hand comes down on your ass, making a small yelp escape your lips.

you turn suddenly and shoot him a glare. he just pats you again, a gesture to keep you moving forward. "get on up there, little minx. before your daddy realizes where you've gone, huh?"

you turn then and head for the stairs that lead up to his bedroom. declan didn't have to tell you much twice.

[smol-warrior-1258]

Not to mention the reason why adults can be so bad about discussing certain 'difficult' topics is precisely because they didn't have exposure to those topics as children and/or because topics like race, inequality, sex/sexuality, etc are so heavily censored that the entire topic becomes taboo. If you spend your entire development having your very reasonable questions about the world be shushed rather than answered, it takes a lot to start asking them again as an adult.

Sesame Street in particular has spent more than 50 years now handling complex topics in an accessible way for children with a range of backgrounds and across a remarkable age range. It also allows kids to see diversity that they may not actually having in their particular town or city in a totally non-judgmental setting. Moreover, it provides that service for parents who may not have the tools/resources to have those conversations with their kids on their own.

This kind of programming is designed to help make sure the next generation is kinder & better than the one that came before no matter their circumstances. Opposing Sesame Street - and other children's programming with similar aims - can only come from a place of fear that having open and informative conversations about complex real-world problems will diminish the power/influence that people like Dave Rubin thrive on.

As a side note, and in the spirit of meeting children where they are with any topic, here is Mister Rogers' guide to simplifying any idea for children:

1. “State the idea you wish to express as clearly as possible and in terms preschoolers can understand.” Example: You can get hurt running indoors. 2. “Rephrase in a positive manner.” Example: Running outdoors is safe. 3. “Rephrase the idea, bearing in mind that preschoolers cannot yet make subtle distinctions and need to be redirected to authorities they trust.” Example: Ask your parents where you’re allowed to run. 4. “Rephrase your idea to eliminate all elements that could be considered prescriptive, directive, or instructive.” Example: Your parents will tell you where it’s okay to run. 5. “Rephrase any element that suggests certainty.” Example: Maybe your parents can tell you where it’s safe to run. 6. Rephrase your idea to eliminate any element that may not apply to all children.” Example: Maybe your favorite grown-ups can tell you where you can run. 7. Add a simple motivational idea that gives preschoolers a reason to follow your advice.” Example: Maybe your favorite grown-ups can tell you where you can run. Listening to them is good. 8. “Rephrase your new statement, repeating the first step.” Example: Maybe your favorite grown-ups can tell you where you can run. Listening to them is important. 9. “Rephrase your idea a final time, relating it to some phase of development a preschooler can understand.” Example: Maybe your favorite grown-ups can tell you where you can run. Listening to them is important and listening is an important part of growing up.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 16

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 16

Word Count: 4260

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: The angst arrives in full force! How about that!? Come on, you had to be expecting that! Also, I'm thinking about two chapters left (well, one and the epilogue), so we're almost at the end! PS: This song fits the chapter like a glove! *chef's kiss*

|Masterlist| | |Chapter 15|

The night is almost over. Just a few more dances before the guests send the newlyweds off to their honeymoon, and then you and Law can escape back into the safety of your room. Just one hour, tops. What could go wrong in an hour?

Even more so now that you’ve finally confessed the three words that have been bothering you for a while. And they were reciprocated.

You’re adamant about not letting go of Law’s hand for the rest of the night. A feeling of dread still coils in the pit of your stomach, and you don’t know exactly why, but you’re not about to let fate play a prank on you.

Except, fate’s got nothing on Donquixote Doflamingo. 

“Nephew, I need you. It’s urgent.” Law groans, his hand tightening around yours, since this is clearly Doffy's last opportunity to feed some lie to Law and try to break you two apart. You’re honestly tired of it all. 

“Tomorrow, Uncle. I’m tired.”

“Now.” Doflamingo’s tone leaves no room for discussion, and Law clenches his jaw. Underneath it all, Law still respects his uncle. You’re not quite sure why he still respects the man, he’s despicable, but you suspect it’s because he instilled in Law a deep-seated sense of family ties and loyalty. And Law won’t break free of his morals. 

“Go. I have to freshen up anyway.” You whisper with a smile. You’ve confessed. He knows how you feel. Nothing will come between the two of you. 

Law smiles at you, and with a last squeeze of your hand, he lets you go. 

-*-

You purposefully take a while longer in the bathroom, fixing your makeup, your hair, and your dress. Unnecessary moves, really, since you’re about to leave to go to bed soon, and you’re actually craving that massage Law mentioned earlier. 

That and… well, you’re craving Law. Period.

You exit the bathroom with a silly smile still plastered on your lips and almost bump into a chest. “Oh, forgive me, I–... Ichiji.” 

Obviously.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He begins.

“Cut the crap.” You don’t even let him say anything else, already pushing past him to return to the reception tent, but he halts you, a hand on your upper arm, and you seethe. “What did I tell you about touching me?”

He lets go of you immediately, taking a step back and sighing while passing a hand over his coiffed hair. “Right, sorry.”

Sorry? 

You look behind you and around, trying to notice if something feels out of place. You might have entered a portal to some sort of alternate universe when you were in the bathroom because there’s no way in hell Ichiji would ever apologise to you.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, Doll. For… well…” He sighs again, steps forward, and then back again. “For cheating, for treating you like crap, for taking you for granted… I… well, I know now it’s too late, but seeing you happy with someone else made me realise what I lost and how I was the only one to blame.”

No, seriously, there has to have been a portal back there. Something, anything. This is not happening. 

Your heart constricts in your chest. You lost count of how many times you dreamed about Ichiji asking for your forgiveness, to truly repent for what he put you through. But it happening here, in a place you'd never thought you'd meet him, and completely out of the blue? 

What's his game? 

“I don't think you need my forgiveness to move on. I know I don't need your apologies.” A heavy sigh parts your lips. “Not when you're delivering them far too late.”

You make another motion to pass through him, but he moves in front of you and whispers your name in a desperate plea. “I do need your forgiveness. I need closure.” 

What? You cock your eyebrow, your lips twisting down in a frown. “After all you've put me through for–...” You wave your hands in the air. “I’m not even going to count the years we spent together. Just today is enough! After all the theatrics and the taunting, you expect me to believe you just want closure?”

The way he slumps his shoulders and downcasts his eyes reminds you of the first times you argued, back in the beginning of the relationship, when you actually believed his apologies, and your heart constricts some more at all the memories. 

“Yes, Doll. Just closure. I'm about to leave the party, and I know we won't meet again, unless it's by chance, and I don't want us to part on bad terms.” He takes a tentative step your way. “Just say you'll forgive me, please.”

You want him out of your sight, out of your mind, and completely out of your heart. You know you don't love him anymore, but you still hold memories and feelings of nostalgia, and when he's looking at you with puppy-dog eyes, you can't help but soften up a little bit. He does seem sorry. 

“Fine, Ichiji, fine. We can part ways on lighter terms. I don't completely forgive you for what you took from me or for how you made me feel, but I won't resent you for it anymore.”

He actually smiles at you. Not that conceited, smug smirk, but a genuine smile. 

“That's all I ask for, Doll.”

“Good. Goodbye.”

“Wait, please.” Is that pain in his voice? Is he really sorry and repentant for everything? You don’t say anything, but you don’t move either, just waiting for what he wants to say. “Can I get one last hug?”

The face you make must have been something special to look at because he grimaces and chuckles softly, his hand passing through his hair again. 

“A harmless hug? Please? It’s just for–...”

“Closure, right?” Should you? He’s actually sounding human for once in all the time you’ve known him, and he does seem sorry. It’s just a hug goodbye. What harm can it bring? “Fine. Make it quick.”

With a sigh, you let him bend down to envelop you in his arms, but then you actually smile. You don’t feel anything. No rage, no pain, no hurt, no longing… it’s just a void. You know there used to be something there, but now you’re free.

It’s a wonderful feeling, actually. 

Until Ichiji’s hands cup your face, and he tilts your head to the side, doing the same to his and leaning in further, his lips inches away from yours. His taller frame engulfs you, and the lights are very dim near the bathroom. It almost looks as if you’re sharing a kiss. 

“Wha–...”

“I still win, Doll.”

A cold shiver runs down your spine as he shows you the same smug smile he always did, his canines almost glistening with glee. You’re frozen in place. What does he mean? 

And then he parts, leaving you open-mouthed, chest heaving, and cheeks flushed from trying to grasp what is going on. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to adjust to two figures looming at the entrance of the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. 

Doflamingo and… oh, no.

“Law?”

Doffy is bent down, one arm around Law’s shoulders, his lips moving fast as he mouths words into Law’s ears. You can almost bet he’s spewing lies and deceptions about you, twisting everything to make Law doubt you. You know he has trouble trusting people, it would be so easy to make him doubt.

But what breaks you is Law’s expression. His usually stoic face bears the signs of hurt, and he’s clenching his fists by his sides, jaw ticking, trying to contain his emotions and failing at it. 

“Law!” You try again, taking a step forward and see Doffy still speaking into Law’s ear. Lies, all lies, for sure. Law’s gaze falls on Ichiji and then back at you, and you realise that this was orchestrated. It has to have been orchestrated. 

Ichiji holding you as if he were kissing you, Doffy bringing Law by the bathroom? It was their ultimate move.

“It’s not what you think, Law.” You take another step forward, and you can almost hear the shards of Law’s flimsy trust being broken and shattered into pieces. 

He shakes his head and takes a step back, hand flying over his head to tousle his hair. “I… I need some air.” Turning on his heel, he leaves you in a hurry, and you stifle a sob. 

No, no, no.

You need to reach him, to speak with him and let him know what happened. That nothing actually happened! He can’t possibly think you would betray him like this. Turning your wobbly steps into strides, you try to follow Law’s retreating figure into the crowd, despair tugging at your insides, tears already threatening to fall.

And then you’re stopped by a strong hand on your arm. “Where do you think you’re going, princesa?” 

An actual growl leaves your lips. “Let go, Doflamingo. I need to speak with Law.” Your tug does nothing to loosen his grip, and you seethe. 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He tuts, his fiery eyes boring deep into yours. “You won’t speak to my nephew. Not now, nor ever again. You’ll leave him alone to live his life and disappear.”

Shaking your head, you try again, but his grip is too strong. “He needs to listen to me! He’s going to be heartbroken. It’s not what he thinks.”

“He’ll be fine. He has a family that loves him.” Doffy’s words sound melodic, but the melody is one of doom, not hope. 

“Only Cora loves him, clearly.” Your scoff comes accompanied by stubborn tears you’re trying to keep enclosed. “All I’ve ever wanted from Law was love, all I have to give to him is love. Why do you want to take that away? Do you hate him that much?”

Doflamingo straightens his shoulders, and now he seems impossibly high. “On the contrary, cariño. I love him dearly. And it’s because I love him that I need him to learn this lesson. I thought he had already learned it the hard way, but he didn’t. Romantic love only brings weakness. It doesn’t do him any kindness, and he needs to let that go. He needs to be strong and in control, not a fool in love.”

Finally, your harsh tug makes him release you, but his imposing figure is still blocking the way. You stamp your feet, much like a small child, and grit your teeth, anger making your eyes blaze red. “You think that makes him stronger? Is that why you push the people that love him away?”

He shakes his head, those annoying tuts leaving his lips as he gives you a condescending look. “Not at all. Only those that do not.”

“Then you are a damned fool.” He growls at your disrespect, and you couldn’t care less. He lost any small ounce of respect you might’ve still held for him when he pulled this stunt. “Because if you hadn’t interfered, I would still be by Law’s side, and I love him!”

Doffy’s laugh comes in small waves, his eyes shining with amusement as he sizes you up with his fiery gaze. “An admirable sentiment, mi querida, though I doubt it to be true.” You open your mouth, ready to be disrespectful again, but he reaches into his pocket and pulls out an all-too-familiar device: your tablet. 

With a flick of his finger, he opens it to the spreadsheet you now know by heart: all of Law’s likes and dislikes, every useful thing for your fake relationship, every piece of information you and Law gathered to make sure you were prepared for this event. 

You can’t help the stutter that leaves your lips, nor the red flushing your cheeks. “Law… he.. Law knew about that.” Why does your voice sound so small? Is it because you were caught?

“I’m sure.” His demeanour contradicts his words. And then he hands you the tablet, a frown finally overtaking his mocking smile, and you almost shrink at how his aura suddenly feels very threatening. “You’re done here. You will never speak to my nephew again.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Doflamingo can’t win this, not after what you and Law went through. Not after realising he’s the love of your life. 

“You can’t do that.” Your voice comes out as a mere trembling whisper. “You can’t pull strings and control Law’s life as if he’s a puppet and you’re his puppeteer! He has a say in his own life!” You try to take a step forward, but he doesn’t budge. “I’ll tell him what happened, and he’ll realise I never meant to hurt him. Just let me through!”

“You’re done.”

“Law has a right to make his own choices. You don’t own him!” The pesky tears start to stain your cheeks, you feel impotent and useless. 

“Not choices that will end up destroying him.”

“The ones you are making for him might do just that.” Your voice finally breaks, and a ragged sob leaves your lips with the weight and the helplessness of it all. “He is not your pawn! You can’t manipulate him like this! Please… please! Let me speak to him! You’ll truly destroy him with this…”

Law placed his trust in you. After what he’s been through with Monet, you know it must not have been easy to let himself love and be loved. And Doflamingo manipulated you both to an extent that will come with dire consequences. Law will be broken, and so will you.

“I will face whatever consequences come from my actions with Law. He might be hurt for a while, but he will emerge stronger. He has done it once.”

“But at what cost?” You whisper, too drained to fight back. With a shaky inhale, you straighten your shoulders as your hands grip the tablet for some sort of grounding. “I’ll speak to him later, then. You can’t keep us apart. You will not ruin what we have.”

Pushing past him, you take one full step before Doflamingo’s words freeze you in place. 

“I would rethink that if I were you, querida.” Something in his voice halts your breathing as you look over your shoulder and find him grinning. “Your father is still recovering from surgery, right? Some businesses collapse pretty quickly when something like this happens… no one would look twice.”

What?

“Is that a threat?” Doffy certainly has the power to ruin your father’s horse business. 

Waving his hands in the air in a dismissive manner, his smirk returns to his lips, more menacing this time. “Oh no, no. I don’t make threats… they’re too amateurish.” His laugh fills your ears, and the same shiver as before courses through your veins. “It’s more of a prediction.”

Gathering strength and bravado you do not have, you square your shoulders and lift your chin. “My father is strong, and he has my help. We’ll manage.” Turning your face forward, you will your feet to move again.

“How brave. So what about Law’s clinic?” Your breath stops so suddenly that you almost think you have a collapsed lung. He can’t be serious. “I won’t be cryptic, cariño, here’s the deal: if you speak to Law again, I’ll make sure his clinic tanks. And you know how much he loves that little place, with his friends and helping people.” He tsks and waves his hand dismissively. “I would much rather he dedicated himself to the company, so perhaps you would be doing me a favour. Law, on the other hand? Now that would devastate him.”

“Please, don’t…” You don’t know what else to do. Doflamingo is too powerful, too influential. He will destroy Law either way and claim to be helping him while doing it. You feel trapped, what can you do? “Please don’t do that to him.”

“I don’t want to. I do love him. But that depends on you.” Doflamingo sets one hand on your shoulder to turn you back to face him. “There’s a car waiting for you outside with all your belongings. You will leave the party immediately with Ichiji, as it will help sell the ruse.” 

Your legs start to wobble as breath begins to catch in your throat again. Powerless. Completely stripped of any will. That’s how you’re feeling. 

“You will not speak with Law today, nor ever. Not even when you both go back to your boring little lives. He’ll think you abandoned him, which suits me, really. No one needs a gold digger.”

“I’m not–...”

“I don’t care!” Doflamingo leans in, and his breath fans your face. He’s as angry as you’ve ever seen anyone, and you can almost see the veins pulsating dangerously in his neck. “You’re a distraction and a liability. Law doesn’t need any of that.”

“Everybody needs love…” Is this your last hail Mary? Because it’s not a very strong one.

“Not the Donquixote family.” He steps back and motions Ichiji forward. “Leave. Don’t speak to Law. It’s simple, I’m sure you can follow that, princesa.” He chuckles again while fixing his tie and suit. “Or else…” 

The words he leaves unsaid are a weight on your soul. You can’t think, you can’t breathe, you can barely exist. All you know is that Law is somewhere, hurting, thinking you betrayed his trust.

And the fact that you will leave without any explanation will only cement that feeling. 

You thought you’d been heartbroken before - exhibit A is currently walking by your side, leading you away from the party with a hand on your back that you’re too tired to swat away - but you’ve never been hurt like this.

This pain is visceral. It burns, it blisters, it festers, and it destroys. 

You’re not actually sure you’ll ever recover from this. 

-*-

Law was taken away from you by Doflamingo yet again, and as his uncle drones on about business and about the imminent merger, all Law can think about is you in his arms and the peace you bring him.

“Are you listening to me, Law?”

“No, Uncle, I’m not. It’s late, and I’m tired.” He yawns for effect and shrugs. “I’m going to bed.” But before he can retreat, Doflamingo sighs and slings his hand over Law’s shoulder.

“Fine, Law. But first, I’ve made some assumptions during this weekend, and I need you to tell me if I’m right or wrong.” Law sighs and nods. Agreeing with Doffy is the fastest way to get rid of him. He starts leading Law back into the party, and Law follows without giving it much thought. 

“I know you and the little princesa were not a couple before this weekend. I’m actually doubting that you are a couple at this moment… and my assumption is: you told her you didn’t want to come to my daughter’s wedding without a date because I tend to introduce you to a lot of respectable young ladies you don’t relate to. So, to avoid that, she offered to come as your date. Am I right?”

Law already knew Doffy had discovered that bit of your ruse, so he doesn’t act surprised, he acts resigned. 

“Almost. I was the one who asked her.” Law grins. “The ladies you introduce me to are not respectable. Half of the ones I met proposed to do very salacious things to me in very public places.”

Doffy grins back at him, and Law sighs while shaking his head. 

“You got that half-right, Doffy. Are you happy?”

“Not in the least. You see, Law, what I think is that the young lady realised the family you belonged to and decided to take advantage of that fact by seducing you. Is that a correct assumption?”

“Frankly, Uncle, I’m growing tired of that subject. We have already proved to you that we care about each other deeply. And even if we didn’t, we don’t have to prove anything to you anymore. This is my choice, and you will not interfere in it.”

Doffy tilts his head and nods, a mysterious smile playing on his lips as he leads Law to the bathroom. 

“Fair enough. But… Nephew… do you truly believe she cares that much about you? Do you think she loves you?” A small chuckle escapes his lips. “I thought you were done with being naive…”

Law grits his teeth while his heart clenches in his chest. Doflamingo’s words always have a way of penetrating his skull and making him doubt everything. “She loves me. I know that.” He didn’t mean to sound so defensive, but then again, Doffy had no reason to attack him. 

“I hope, for your sake, that you are right.” Doffy brings one hand to his chest and bows his head slightly. “I would hate to see you blindsided. Again.” His emphasis on the word ‘again’ brings hurtful memories of Monet back to Law’s mind, and he grunts. 

“We’re fine, Doffy. Thank you for your concern.” Law is about to turn and leave, but Doffy holds him by the shoulder and directs his gaze towards the dimly lit hallway of the bathroom. 

“Oh… would you look at that, then…”

Law instantly freezes, his brain showing him tricks. It has to be tricks. There’s no way that’s you wrapped in Ichiji’s arms. Law can only see the back of Ichiji’s hulking frame, but that’s your dress he sees peeking from the side, those are your hands holding his waist.

And now he’s cupping your cheeks, leaning… no.

A kiss?

Law shakes his head, denial, frustration, and… betrayal. That’s the word echoing in his head incessantly. Where once were your ‘I love you’s’ now stood that shadow of a word. Betrayal, betrayal, betrayal…

“You see, Law,” Doffy leans against Law’s ear, his venomous tongue spewing hurtful words. Words that ring true, too close to Law’s heart. Too at home with his pain. “She’s no different from Monet, really… they both traded you, broke your trust.”

Law’s throat is dry, and he feels little sweat beads trickling down his sideburns. The nails digging into the flesh of his hand cut little crescent indents, trying to ground him, trying to pull him back from the pitfall of despair he’s about to be sucked into. 

“Love hurts, Nephew. Love tears and destroys. You can only trust your family or you should trust only yourself.”

Doffy keeps talking, but Ichiji breaks from you, and there’s a mix of confusion and distress on your face as your eyes meet Law’s. And then there’s panic as you whisper his name.

This can’t be happening. You wouldn’t do this to him. Not you.

“Law!” 

Your plea is clear, but he can’t think straight. It’s too much, it’s too painful. 

“Don't believe her lies, Law. You know what you saw.” Doffy murmurs. 

“I… I need some air.” Law’s voice comes out as a mere whisper as he turns and disappears. The air suddenly feels rare, his chest too tight. 

There’s not enough room in the world to harbour the size of this betrayal. It’s too much. 

-*-

The coolness of the outside air does nothing to soothe him. It still feels stifling, and the control is slipping away from his fingers. Running his hand through his hair in a desperate gesture only brings him more heartache. 

Why?

Law keeps thinking about your pain and grief when you spoke about Ichiji. How could you return to the man who hurt you so? 

Maybe you didn’t.

No. Law knows what he saw. You were in Ichiji’s arms.

But he didn’t see a kiss.

There was no mistaking it. He held your face and–... and what? Could he have forced you? Were you held against your will? Law tries hard to unscramble his jumbled memories, but the pain in his chest is so heavy that he barely knows where to start.

He didn’t see a kiss. Of that, he’s certain. Could he be overthinking it? What if it was nothing, or if he forced you? And instead of helping you or hearing your words, Law panicked? Hadn’t he promised you not to listen to Doffy’s words? 

Yet that was exactly what he did. 

Fuck.

Did he get this all wrong? Law sighs and inhales deeply three times, trying to calm his ragged breaths and his uneven heart. He knows you. You wouldn’t do that to him, let alone with a man who hurt you so deeply.

There has to be an explanation for what happened, and he’s ready to listen to it.

Turning around, Law returns to the party, hoping you’re still somewhere near so he can speak with you and listen to what you have to say, to what really happened, to the truth.

He’s expecting to find you frantically looking for him, and his heart is already constricting from the anxiety you must be feeling. He should’ve just stayed a while longer. You would have explained, and neither he nor you would have had to panic. 

But what he wasn’t expecting was to see you leaving the party. He wasn’t expecting to see Ichiji’s hand resting against your lower back, silently guiding you through the remaining guests. He wasn’t expecting to see you walking out with him.

Willingly. 

So it was the truth.

Law’s heart breaks completely, the full extent of your betrayal settling in, expanding, and commandeering all of his love for you. Doflamingo was right. It pains him to admit this, but he was.

You’re a liar, and Law was foolish enough to trust you.

Tag List:@rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @rainbow2312 @alexturnersgirl

[freyito]

ʜᴀɴᴋᴇʀɪɴ' ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✩ in which: boothill's been quiet since he came back from penacony. way too quiet.

✧ a/n: little by little im chipping away at my depressive episode and building my motivation again

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, 2.6 spoilers, mention of torture, hurt/comfort, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.4k

Ever since his most recent trip to Penacony, Boothill had been spacing out more when he got home. He insisted, very firmly, that you stay at home this time, leaving no room for any discussion. You were to stay home no matter what, and if he found you had tried to sneak out, even to the town, there would be words to be had. He was never this demanding, and he never barred you from going out. Yet when he told you, there was a certain look in his eyes. Fear. Something so rare within him that it made you obey without a word of protest. Now that he is back, he hasn’t been as energetic as you’re used to. In fact, he had practically stayed glued to the couch. 

You could poke and prod at him and he wouldn’t so much as smirk, and you hadn’t even gotten so much of a squeak out of him aside from why he had left in the first place. Despite his victory, he was just… quiet. You wake up to him staring at the ceiling, chewing on his lip. Even though he doesn’t necessarily need sleep, he’s always cuddling up to you when you go to sleep. So when you wake up next to him (quite a rare sight), it’s odd.

Not just that, but you notice he spends an oddly long time gazing out over the plains that surround your house, nearly unphased when you poke and squeeze at his cheeks. It’s not that he is entirely silent the whole time, but his words are few and far between. You can’t remember the last time he’d been so lost in thought.

After the third day, you’ve decided you’ve had enough. It was fine if he didn’t want to talk about it (though you are certain it would help), but you were starting to miss Boothill’s voice, or the silly things he would do. So, you catch him on the couch while he’s charging, deciding to lay on top of him. Cheek to cheek, you press into him with a smile.

“Hi,” You say simply. Boothill doesn’t react much, looking up at you with his eye and a small grin.

“Hey, darlin’,” He responds, his voice quiet.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Mh, nothin’,” Boothill sighs, shifting awkwardly just a little beneath you. You raise your eyebrow, and he sighs, admitting defeat so easily. “Okay. Thinkin’ about a lot.”

“Care to share?”

“I dunno sugar, it’s kinda heavy,”

“Heavy is the cost.”

A silence stretches between the two of you, as Boothill ruminates over whether or not to share what’s on his mind. You lean further into him, draping yourself over him like a blanket, even though he wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable person to lay on. You weren’t going to say it out loud, and you have spent hours on him before, so it wasn’t necessarily a problem. There were days where his body was the most wonderful thing to lay on, when he had been lounging in the sun and you had been unbearably cold for Aeons knows what reason. In moments like those, he was like your own space heater.

“Well, I mean, there was a lot goin’ on in Penacony, and all these mind games, and…” Boothill sighs, his body relaxing slightly as he pulls an arm out from under you and slings it over your waist. “Got to rememberin’ a lot of things. Stuff I ain’t exactly keen on thinkin’ about. Now I can’t stop.”

“Do you think telling me about it would help?” You purse your lips, blinking at him inquisitively. 

“Haven’t I yapped enough? I swear you ask me about all o’ this at least once a week,” He pokes at your side, causing you to squirm and yelp, before he takes hold of your waist and readjusts both of you, so he’s sitting up and cradling you in his lap. “Gonna make me talk til my jaw falls off, you know that?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, darlin’,” Boothill smiles, something gentle despite his normally cocky grin. “I know you mean well. You’re the only one I like talkin’ to about this stuff, anyways.”

You tilt your head, silently asking him to continue. For a moment he doesn’t get the hint, raising his brow and chewing on his lip. He’s always been avoidant of such topics like the past, not that you could squeeze much out of him regardless. The most he let you know was of his family, specifically why he held a grudge against the IPC, and who he held a grudge against. Not to mention, he doesn’t enjoy talking things out much. He enjoys venting whatever’s gnawing at him in other ways, such as shooting. Still, he always seems to relent when you ask…

“Ah! Uhm, well…” He wraps both his arms around you, finally sitting up. He readjusts, making sure you’re seated comfortably in his lap. “They got me thinkin’ about when I was a kid… Well, more than that, really. Hard to explain.”

“I can listen all day. I like your voice.” You reply smugly.

“I– That’s not what I meant…” He chuckles sheepishly, shaking his head. “It was like a… hm. Felt like the kind of stuff the IPC had done to me when they caught me.”

Suddenly, you don’t know how to react. Your flirty demeanor drops, and so does your smile. Part of you didn’t think it’d be this kind of conversation. While he said it was heavy, you really didn’t think it’d be on the same level. Boothill sighs, patting your back lightly at your reaction.

“It ain’t that bad. I’m back home now, right? All in one piece.” He consoles, his voice just a tinge softer than before.

“Yeah, but–”

“It didn’t do much to me, really. Just got me thinkin’,” He shrugs so nonchalantly, like torture is something he’s used  to. “You asked, right? Lemme continue.”

With a huff, you concede. He strokes through your hair leisurely at your complacence, taking another moment to enjoy the quiet moment. As if what he was about to explain wasn’t something as terrifying as torture.

“It was somethin’ goin’ on with Dr. Primitive. Or at least, someone who aspired to be like him. Really odd thing, actually. With these monkeys and bananas, people wanted to become one. People were becoming one. Freaky, really. I mean, the things were cute n’ all… Not the point.” He takes a deep breath, “Some sort of induction… they… I don’t know how they did it, but they were able to bring back some sort of past version of me…? Took almost everything from me, voice, hearing, colors, sight, anger… they took it all. And suddenly, I felt like I was a kid again.”

The silence continues, while you ponder if anything you’ll say will be right, or okay. There’s not much you can think of to say, without sounding out of place. Dr. Primitive was one thing, and something horrifying at that, but the monkeys threw you off. Furthermore, what Boothill had described made your body feel… cold. It felt like it was one step away from wiping his memory completely. 

“What’s with that look?” He chuckles, shaking off the heavy air so easily. “You asked me to tell you, right?”

“Yeah…” You sigh. It’s still quite hard to wrap your mind around such things, but you do your best to ignore it.

“Now you sound all sad. C’mon, I’m alive, ain’t I? Plus, I think I do feel a little better now that I think about it…”

His voice tapers off at the end, before pursing his lips as if he was thinking. Again. Before you can ask him what else he’s got on his mind, his eyes light up. Without so much as a grunt, he picks you up and sets you down on the floor. 

“Here, actually, I think I’ve figured out somethin’,” He says, placing a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the front door. He makes no further effort to explain what he meant, simply choosing to lead you off with a smile.

As he opens the door, light spills into the cabin. The land looks practically golden, you’ve forgotten just how beautiful the plains are at sunset. When you two step out on the porch, a light breeze greets you, wading through the grass. Boothill lets out another chuckle, before stepping off the porch. He stands still for a moment, appreciating the art of the world, the way the wind whispered across the grass, the birds in the distance and their song, and finally, he lets out a content sigh.

“Can’t say it’s as beautiful as Aeragan-Epharshel, but…” He begins, looking back at you for a moment, waving you closer. “It’s close enough…”

“What do you mean?” You finally take a step down off the porch. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer with an even bigger smile.

“All that work they did, well it gave me a hankerin’ for the past,” He takes a deep breath, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “Don’t like thinkin’ about it too much cause then I miss it even more.”

He cocks his head down at you, before his hand slides from your waist to your own, interlocking fingers. They’re not cold, for once, about body temperature. Perhaps that’s what you get for laying on top of him. He starts to lead you through the grass, his other hand gliding over the soft blades, sometimes grabbing at one just for the fun of it. However, there’s a certain sadness pulling at his face, his stride, even. He’s quiet for another minute, before he stops.

“It’s odd only feelin’ the wind in my hair.” He states, allowing nature to fill the silence once more.

“Boothill…” You mutter, reluctantly wiggling your hand out of his, reaching up to cup his cheek instead.

“It’s okay, sugar, I don’t need any pity,” Despite his words, he leans into your touch so easily, eyes fluttering closed. “Just… expressin’ myself.” After a beat, he opens his eyes and looks back out on the landscape, sighing softly. “I miss all the mischief I’d get into. After I’d finished my work on the ranch, I’d… run off somewhere, mostly off to the town. I’d get into all sorts of trouble just to keep myself from gettin’ bored. So I could get a chance to run through the fields again.”

He turns to you with a somber look in his eyes, as if he’d tear up. Not that he could, he’d lost that function long ago. His hands fall to your waist, gripping gently at the fabric of your shirt.

“There’s nothin’ quite like that feelin’. Runnin’ through the fields, the wind in your hair, stingin’ your cheeks and fingers, heart beatin’ fast as you find somewhere to hide…” He continues. Again, his voice wavers, and he swallows. He does his best to hold off on his own sadness, something he hadn’t allowed himself to properly feel for Aeons knows how long. “I guess I sorta get it still… bein’ wanted ‘n’ all… but it ain’t the same. It ain’t never been the same since…”

He ducks his head, the wind causing his hair to obscure his face. His hat dips, and you raise your hand to catch it. You don’t know what else to do. You haven’t seen Boothill this sad, ever. He’s always so rowdy and practically radiant, and yet now he’s dour, forcing himself to get his words through. He sniffles, then lets out a choked sound that goes straight to your heart. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in close and squishing your face against his chest. The minute your arms meet his body, he mirrors the gesture. He practically crumbles in your arms, knees buckling as if he were flesh and bone, sliding down in your arms until his knees are planted firmly in the ground beneath you. In turn he presses his ear to your chest, listening to the gentle sound of your beating heart. At this, he grasps your shirt so tightly, pulling you impossibly closer, letting out another whine.

You pet through his hair, doing your best to still your own thoughts. Not only have you never seen Boothill sad before, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so… weak. Especially on the topic of his past. He could always speak of Clementine, of Nick and Gray, even of his hatred for the IPC with such confidence. Never once did his voice break, did his scowl turn into a frown. His body is wracked with shudders, biting his lip to quiet his sobs.

You two stay like that for a couple of more minutes, Boothill clinging onto you for dear life while you did your best to comfort him, scratching at his scalp and shushing him gently, whispering all sorts of cliche things to calm him down. Eventually, he finally lets up, with a soft breath. His grip weakens on your clothes, and he stands up. When he does, you card your fingers through his hair, moving his bangs from his face. He can’t help but let out a weak chuckle, allowing you to enjoy the feeling.

“M’sorry honey,” He mutters, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Didn’t mean to get all gloomy like that.”

“It’s fine, really,” You smile, your fingers lingering in his hair, before pulling away. “I think you needed it.”

“I… probably,” He sighs, “Just got too caught up in… all of this.”

Still, he nudges you, hand finding yours once more. He squeezes it, before leading you back to the cabin. The wind started to bite, the sun just peaking over the horizon as the sky went from orange and pink, to pink and purple. The clouds waned, the stars just barely visible as you two walked back. The silence is comfortable now, a small smile tugging at Boothill’s lips. He opens the door for you, taking one last look at the plains, before stepping in and closing the door.

“I’ll make dinner, then,” He says triumphantly, clearly feeling lighter than before. “As an apology. For makin’ you see me like that.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I want to, sugar. Let me? Please?” He cocks his head to the side, his smile turning gentler.

You wouldn’t fight it, either way. Despite how much he’s enjoyed literal bullets and oil, you wouldn’t dare stop him from cooking. He was like an angel, really, almost terrifyingly good in the kitchen. While you wanted to say that he didn’t have to apologize, if his cooking was on the line, you’ve found no choice but to concede.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[nyc-pizza-rat]

saw @bloodydeanwinchester's tags on this post so

*TW: SUICIDE IDEATION TYPICALLY DISCUSSED IN RELATION TO THIS EPISODE PLS TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES*

dean's always hated being stabbed. god, he'd have taken a bullet to his head over this any day. what's one last thing that doesn't go his way, he thinks.

it's uncomfortable, is the thing. the hurt, he'll take it. it's nothing he doesn't deserve, nothing he hasn't had before. but the feeling of metal slicing your innards, it's a bitch of a thing. you can never get used to it.

Atleast, he thinks, Sam's here. Atleast, he's able to say goodbye. Atleast he's not alone.

His nerves are all alight, pain painting him bright from the inside, but dean can feel the finality of this burst. it's all too fast and too slow, all at once. dean thinks about being four and the sharp sunlight waking him in his room, his sheets with hot wheels on them. he thinks about baby's headlights shining through thin motel curtains. thinks about....about angels and gods and all that blue light behind his own eyes. he thinks if this is how.. how cas felt, when dean had been stupid and cowardly , when he'd let Lucifer get to him, that night in Washington. he wonders if his soul feels like this too, all sharp angels and live current. he wonders what cas ever saw in him, why he ever tried to save him, even in hell. wishes he could see him, one last time. that wouldn't have been all that terrible.

Still, he thinks. Sam's here. Sam's here. Sam's okay.

he jolts into himself, and realizes that he's been talking, that he's been saying something to sam. he doesn't even know. dean is unraveling. he can feel his body emptying, the slickness of blood at his back.

he grabs at his brother, fists a hand in his chest. Sam's face is twisted in sorrow. Fuck. I love you, little guy, he thinks. then, fuck, don't let me go. i don't want to go. shit's never happened the way he wanted it to, but this is something else. Atleast. well, atleast he's gonna end up in the empty. that's what Billie promised him, right? Atleast he'll be with cas.

Still, Still. he's only human, and he's drowning in his own blood, can smell it, can taste it, it's everywhere, it's —

"I need you to.... to tell me... that it's okay," he says, and his voice comes out trembling, panicked. terrified. God. "I need you to tell me that it's okay."

his brother turns away from him, and dean can't hear him over the ringing in his ears, but he knows the stubborn bastard, the way his shoulders lift. God. God. Cas.

"Look at me," he pleads. "I need... I need..." he can't breathe. god, he can't breathe. "Please, Sam. I need you to tell me that it's okay."

Sam's face swims to the front of his line of sight, all warped like it's on the other side of a fishbowl. dean clutches at his brother harder. tries to, anyway. he's so tired. he's so fucking tired.

his fingers slip.

Something warm, and sam holds him in place.

"Dean...," and in another world, dean would've made fun of the blubbering mess he's become. would've teased him for caring so much about his stupid older brother. "it's okay. It's okay. i— I got you."

it's crazy, dean thinks, that it helps. the tone of his brother's voice. his face, even warped and cracking open with grief. dean raised this kid, and it was a bitch of a job, and man, did he hate it at times, but look at sam now. he did good. he did so good. he did —

dean goes under like he's being put to sleep. almost easy, almost soft. Thanks, he thinks, the last coherent thought in his head. Thanks, kid.

~

He wakes up on a road. The sun shines down bright like it's the start of summer, and there's this pleasant warmth in the air. the world around him is golden, stretching into the horizon on flat land where it meets the brown mounds of the black hills. dean blinks up at the mountains, a strange chill crawling down his spine.

"You're here early," a familiar voice says, and dean turns to find himself standing in front of Bobby's porch. light's drenched this whole place, too, making the wood panelling look blond. Bobby's fucking smiling. Shit. Shit.

dean's starting to feel disoriented, almost.

"And what's 'here' supposed to be, exactly?"

Bobby frowns, his smile slipping. he looks at dean like he's a right fool. "Heaven, dean," he says. "where else'd you think you'd go?"

dean thought.... Fuck. there's a strange emptiness pushing at the inside of dean's skin. he feels like he's been put together upside down. Billie.... Billie....

Billie's in the empty, and fuck. maybe grudges don't get passed down to the new death. fuck. fuck.

Dean stumbles to the porch steps, crumples on them when he can't go further. Absently, he's aware of Bobby moving behind him, the creaking of his rocking chair, his footsteps on the wood.

he stares out at the grass, the outline of the mountains, the clear blue sky. it's beautiful. it's nothing. it's empty. fuck. fuck. what the hell is dean supposed to do now. without — what the hell is he supposed to do?!

Bobby's hand is warm on his shoulder. dean feels small, the way he leans into it, the way he kinda wants to cry.

"what's wrong, dean?" Bobby asks, and his voice is all wrong , like he's tried to scrape the gruffness out of it and badly. dean could laugh. but. fuck. fuck.

why the hell is he here? why is he here?!

he swallows. shit's never really gone his way in life, so why would it in death? he swallows again. says, "i don't know, Bobby."

Me, he thinks. I'm what's wrong.

"i don't know."

[whotookcheesuschrist]

I would like to add a couple of examples, more to outline this. I can't fucking remember the source for the former, but if you want tangible examples of this put into practice:

There was this female journalist and author, and to my immense shame I cannot remember her name, only that she moved from Norway to London at some point, who had this fantastic documentary detailing her meetings with the people who bashed her very existence, her being of Muslim heritage. She met them and asked them, face to face, why they hated her. The result of that was often really damn sad. With the exception of... I believe it was Rick Spencer (the neo nazi what got clocked on live television), most to all of them started having a really hard time justifying their politics, mainly because they thought she was. Quite alright, actually. Problem was that in these cases that just brought the same SynTax error we can see in interviews from the last week or so when moms voting for the Drump seemed to believe that their daughters was just misunderstanding things, like there was room for discussion for what the problem was. (Leopard eating faces-meme.) It also highlighted just how lonely a lot of those guys were; they had essentially isolated themselves into a very, very lonely existence where nothing else but the Qanon-bullshit existed. (See also, Sacha Baron Cohen regaling what he experienced when he in-character was taken in by Q-anon boys and spent the night in their place.)

We have a trial in France right now which might be the most explicit and unquestionable rape cases in history. These men had to be dragged to the courts, forced to watch the irrefutable evidence they themselves taped along with the entire damn nation, and that's, that's the point where any of the fuckers felt shame for themselves. There was nowhere to run at all. Think about just how hard it is to capture these people like that. Think about how many to one that is to make them stop deflecting.

Point is, we've got a lot of work ahead of us.

I also think it's worth noting that, under the age of Obama's presidency and such where a lot of protection started to be written down on paper more akin to what we will now, sadly, remember the Biden administration for as the good old days (among a LOT of things, for good and bad)... how many years of pushing and nudges did it take to get there? And yet after years those protection came to pass anyway. Think through what needs to be done, then don't give up.

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[saucerfulofsins]

I haven’t seen any posts comparing Buck’s coming out to Eddie and Tommy breaking up with Buck, which is a shame because the similarities drive me insane.

Or well. I say similarities, but that’s wrong. What I should be saying is: these scenes mirror each other. This post is more about the highlights than shot by shot comparisons – for that, I’d recommend you watch them side by side yourself.

Let’s start with the first and most obvious structural parallel: both scenes happen around 32 minutes into their respective episodes/between two-thirds to three-quarters in.

Now, for the scenes themselves. They follow the same basic outline, which I’ll discuss one by one. I’m following the same structure throughout: I discuss the coming out scene, then the breakup, and then give some analysis. At the end, I’ve included a section on further things of note that I couldn’t neatly fit into this structure and my final thoughts. Is this the first time I’m using the media analysis I was taught during my minor in Arts, Culture and Media with a focus on film in 2019? Yes, yes it is.

Buckle up, because this meta/essay is nearly 3k. For that reason (i.e. accessibility/readability and the amount of work I put in), this entire piece has been cross-post to AO3 (CLICK FOR LINK).

Opening shots

Seating 1.0

Buck in the kitchen

Seating 2.0

POV shots (both perspectives)

Eddie and Tommy leaving

Miscellany

Final thoughts

Analysis under the cut:

1. Opening shots

This part includes some of the most noticeable differences between the scenes, which explains why they feel different – at least at first.

CO: Eddie’s phone comes into view first – this is his chat conversation with Marisol, which the first part of the CO scene is about (note how this mirrors the gym scene, where Buck intended to come out before the conversation lingered on Eddie and Marisol). Eddie is also closest to the door during this part of the scene – which is where he will remain throughout.

BU: The first shot is of a closed door, which Buck opens for Tommy, i.e. Tommy certainly has no keys to Buck’s place, and this might well be a callback to doors as a recurrent theme. They greet with the briefest kiss possible. I rewatched this several times to make sure it really happened – it happens immediately after a cut and it’s filmed in such a way this could easily have been an air kiss lmao. (No seriously, I had to watch this screen by screen to properly catch it, and the audio is a lot more obvious than the visual). They make small talk about the movies and Tommy having ordered an uber (clearly a throwback to 7x05), and they switch positions so Buck is actually closest to the door.

As for clear similarities: Eddie and Tommy are standing up and remain mostly in the same place; Buck is moving around the loft – it’s an expression of his nervous energy, and the major changes in these scenes are about Buck, not Eddie or Tommy.

2. Sitting down

I made this a separate point for one reason, and one reason only: In CO, Eddie takes his own initiative to sit down, while saying he should go home and Buck offering him a beer, so clearly he won’t be leaving to go home any time soon(ilu Eddie but I’m begging you, stop putting yourself and also us through this 😭). In BU, Buck tells Tommy to sit down... which is in part to signal they need a more serious talk than can be done on the way to the cinema, but also shows a massive contrast in terms of familiarity and comfort, regardless of what Buck tries to tell Tommy later.

Both Eddie and Tommy sit down on the leftmost stool (closest to the door, i.e. it’s easiest for them to leave and Buck can’t get between them).

3. Buck in the kitchen

Fun fact! Before writing this post, I checked the scene where Buck confesses to Taylor that he kissed Lucy. During that scene, Buck is sitting down at the kitchen island, while Taylor lingers in the kitchen proper (i.e. with the island between them). She has moved in at that point – kitchens represent ‘being at home’ – but there’s a physical barrier between her and Buck, and it doesn’t actually keep from her leaving (even while saying she has nowhere to go).

CO: The camera uses a dolly shot to follow Buck throughout the kitchen – to the fridge and then back to the head of the kitchen island. He’s attentively listening to Eddie complain about Marisol and God watching him have sex (cursing God while sluttily drinking his beer).

BU: Buck walks out of view of the camera, through the kitchen, and there’s a dolly shot to the right to focus on Buck finding his place on the head of the kitchen island. He leans on the counter at this point. He does have a pretty open posture (identical to CO); Tommy sits with his hands/fingers folded together but he’s turned to Buck i.e. paying attention.

This is the position Buck has when he comes clear to Tommy about having dated Abby in the past; it’s also when his phone comes into the picture. Well. Pictures. Of Buck and Abby.

4. Seating 2.0

This is the longest section of analysis, and contains the part that makes me SCREAM but let’s start at the beginning. From the moment Buck sits down, the conversation turns serious in both scenes. This dialogue consists of mostly POV shots (which I will discuss next), and these medium shots that show Buck and Eddie, and Buck and Tommy.

CO: Buck sits down while Eddie says, “You and Tommy have the right idea, stay single.” This very clearly introduces a new section of the scene. Overall, the lighting of the loft is muted besides the yellow for visual interest and gay Eddie, thank you for your hard work Buddie colour theorists. Buck’s dining table is unlit and barely visible, so the space really takes a back seat and allows us to focus on Buck and Eddie. Please take note of the chair between them – this serves as a physical barrier, where someone is getting between them (a place for Marisol and Tommy, respectively).

BU: Here, the segway happens right after Buck’s come clear about being Abby’s ex 2.0. He sits down on the middle chair, but it’s quite obvious he’s shoved it away from Tommy. In fact, compared to CO, Buck is almost at the same distance from Tommy as he is from Eddie. There’s a barrier between Buck and Eddie, but there’s space between him and Tommy. This is emphasized by the lit dining table, which draws even more attention because of the white decorations: the loft is a space to be distracted by, focus on or even flee into.

Now. This is what kickstarted my obsession with these scenes, especially the coming out scene. The chair between them? Buck reaches out to Eddie, leans his arm onto it and in the process drawing attention to it. He actually leaves his arm there for an extended period, throughout several of the following shots, and only seems to pull back when he says he and Tommy were on a date.

The following shots – of Buck’s coming out and Eddie’s initial response – are back and forth POV shots. The first shot from medium distance, is this:

Do you see it. DO YOU SEE IT. Do you see what drives me crazy! Eddie is mirroring Buck’s earlier posture – also this is immediately after Buck says Tommy left him on the curb (i.e. Eddie realizes there’s no Tommy getting between them). Eddie’s not just opened up, he’s reaching out, extending his arm back onto that empty chair between them. And again, like Buck, he leaves it there for several shots. It’s still there when he tells Buck to call Tommy, although he briefly vaguely gestures to himself during the “He’ll love you! We all do!” It’s not clear when he takes his arm away; no shots show it and then he’s getting up.

This just. This drives me insane.

For comparison, Buck doesn’t reach out to Tommy during the BU scene. And, compare Tommy to Eddie:

5. POV shots

Okay, the section header is a bit of a misnomer because the scene consists mostly of dialogue and therefore has POV shots. Like I said, there’s also overlap between the POV shots and the wider establishing shots I used in section 4. The bulk of this part of the scene, however, shows a lot of over the shoulder close ups with quick POV switches. In both cases, this is where the subject at the heart of the scene is discussed.

Now, these differences are pretty small and they could be a consequence of these episodes having different directors. However, there’s zero doubt in my mind that Chad Lowe closely studied the CO scene for its sheer number of cinematographic parallels and therefore it might be entirely on purpose too YAY.

There’s some variation in the distance of these shots, but the most intimate ones look like this:

(Still not over that face he’s pulling here, dear Lord). Buck takes up most of the screen – his shoulders are visible, but the top of his head isn’t. I guess this is technically still an over the shoulder shot, but barely. Eddie is out of focus, just enough there to be a blurry ear. These shots are intimate. This is almost what Eddie is seeing – and actually these shots make it feel like they’re sitting a lot closer than they actually are.

"Until now.” Buck’s entire face (including hair) is in the shot, and we can see Tommy’s shirt. This is the closest/most intimate we get to see him (and Tommy, in reverse). For both sides, they’re very clear over the shoulder shots. Yes, this is intimate – but it is not intimate. A quarter to a third of the screen (esp as the conversation moves on) is dedicated to the other person. Buck is more visually interesting too. He has more colour in his face and his background is more clearly white than in CO, whereas Tommy blends in more with the brown coat rack background (shout-out to @sparklespiff for pointing out that difference while I was trying to figure out why Buck felt more noticeable, btw).

SIDENOTE: I know some posts have already been made about the pictures on Buck’s fridge and Eddie’s mantelpiece, like they seem thematically relevant (or perhaps not yet, but soon). Buck’s walls in general have more pictures on them in S8, which is evident both in Buck’s background and Tommy’s. I am nowhere near talented enough to identify them, but going by their general colour and composition, I believe all of Buck’s wall art pieces are that, art, not family photos.

6. Eddie and Tommy leaving

These scenes have some of the clearest parallels, and of course an incredibly clear difference in how Eddie and Tommy are leaving Buck.

CO: Eddie leaves not because of Buck (well, not technically), but because he has to go do something: “I gotta go talk to Marisol.” Buck is smiling while Eddie gets up and is on his way out. Of course, this is when Eddie stops, turns around, and Buck looks up. In fact, Eddie says “Come here” but he’s the one to walk up to Buck to give him a hug. Buck just stands up from the chair. During the hug, we get shots of both Eddie’s and Buck’s faces, and of course Eddie holding Buck’s shoulder. When Eddie leaves, we hear the door open and shut – the focus stays on Buck.

Again, when Tommy leaves, we only hear the door while the camera cuts to Buck. The show then picks up his response (with the same expression) during his arrival at Eddie’s, where Eddie lets him into his home.

BU: Of course, Tommy has nowhere he needs to go to (hello, return of the failed cinema date) – when he says “I should go” it is because of his conversation with Buck. There’s a medium wide shot of him getting up while Buck looks confused, looking like he’s about to reach out for Tommy – the first time during their conversation. The camera uses a slow dolly to the left, which is when Buck calls back Tommy to ask for clarification: “Did you just break up with me?” Tommy says, “Yeah, I guess I just did.” This has been pointed out before, but they’re clearly not sure. Tommy also says, “Believe me, I didn’t see it coming either.” (Was LFJ speaking from Tommy’s perspective in that interview?). That line is fascinating, actually, because only moments ago, he was incredibly adamant about being Buck’s first, not his last. This feels like a throwback to “Enjoy it while it lasts,” leaving them both overwhelmed/confused.

Look at how similar these shots are! Also, the reason I was adamant about calling these scenes mirrors and not parallels is because Buck and Tommy greet each other with a moment of physical affection (which, as I mentioned before, is incredibly short and barely visible). Eddie wouldn’t have ordinarily but feels it’s important to hug Buck to show him nothing has changed. In terms of meaning and cinematography, their interaction is a lot more substantial and reciprocal. They’re also making sure to leave on good terms – whereas Buck and Tommy meet on good terms, but part essentially as strangers. Buck and Tommy ending the scene like truly feels like an end. Buck and Eddie’s scene feels like a significant shift in their relationship, and for me part of that is a result of Eddie hugging Buck, and shaking up their routine.

7. Miscellany

Just some bits and bobs I couldn’t fit elsewhere in the analysis!

“I like him too. Just not the same way as you.” 7x05 was truly out there foreshadowing 8x06’s “I am not gay.” (I want to do a full 7x04 + 7x05 parallels post at some point, but that’s going to be a fuckload of work and possibly even larger than this post).

Like I pointed out, Buck and Eddie drink beer during their scene (which they often do during their conversations). Buck and Tommy are breaking up without accoutrements. Of course, we know Buck brings over beer to Eddie after the breakup. Because the scenes mirror each other so closely in every other aspect, it feels incredibly poignant: Eddie again fills a role in Buck’s life Tommy should have had. I also figured I’d check their fake brands, and they are different labels. I would assume Buck brought a new flavour, considering Eddie’s looks.

Speaking of continuity, Buck opening the door to Tommy in a sense mirrors Eddie opening the door to Buck at the end of 8x06. The key differences in their cinematography is that during BU, the establishing shot of the entire scene is of the closed door without a peephole shot. When Eddie opens the door, it follows his Risky Business tribute so the door takes up less presence, and even when it’s closed, Buck is clearly visible through the peephole.

Phones clearly are connected to (past) female love interests; Eddie is interacting with Marisol but it’s through text and impersonal – we don’t see the messages, we just hear Eddie complain. On the other hand, Buck is out of contact with Abby but he still treasures that relationship – otherwise he wouldn’t still have those pictures on his phone after 7 years. I guess that’s kind of cute? Idk, I never really liked Abby or how she treated Buck, but Tommy’s speech has turned me into an Abby defender lol

Like Buck, Maddie also stands at the head of the kitchen island during her conversation with Chimney. Chimney’s in the kitchen proper, though, and Maddie walks up to him so they can actually stand face to face and be happy about the new pregnancy together! (I genuinely missed that scene the first time I watched the episode, I was so caught up in the bones of it all SORRY MADNEY I LOVE YOU FOREVER).

8. Final thoughts

I mean. Are we really surprised? I’m not! Actually that’s a lie. I saw the similarities but was shocked at just how close these scenes are in full. However,I do think this scene in particular does a lot to show just how deliberate these parallels between S7 and S8 are (and between S8 and previous seasons in general – we’ve seen similar/near identical cinematography a couple of times now), and how deliberate the parallels are between Eddie and Tommy (who are literally taking up the same position in these two scenes).

And just. The fact it’s the coming out scene between Buck and Eddie, which was about opening up & telling the truth, and it doesn’t change anything (allegedly), versus Buck and Tommy, which is about opening up & telling the truth, which changes everything... it reaffirms how I feel about the coming out scene – this is a major moment of change, and that change is deeply entwined with their respective romantic relationships. AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

[vigilskeep]

there are so many things in veilguard that have made me go "wait what??? okay i guess i have to totally rethink the character i'm roleplaying now" that it's literally impossible to guess what thing you're referring to as The Thing That Happened. obviously extremely curious to hear what it is once you've detangled it

it’s kind of like that but it’s also less that and more... okay i should probably just say it, i’m being weird and unhelpful and i need to write it out anyway so i can think

MASSIVE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT for a companion quest, do NOT say i didn’t warn you. also please don’t respond to this if you know more than me i am in distress but i still don’t want spoilers

so i just finished lucanis’ “a murder of crows” quest. and lucanis. first talon. for some reason. (this is the writing choice i’m ??? on. also i’m ??? on lucanis’ whole storyline, frankly. the writing was. well. like i said, we’re not unpicking that right now, i don’t want to get into it at this point, not the conversation i’m having.)

lifelong trauma of being in the crows and fighting to get someone in a talon’s position and keep them there -> the thing that gave sol all their diseases and made them, to be frank, fairly suicidal

viago: ultimately can handle it without them, especially with teia’s backing.

lucanis: CANNOT handle it without them. holy fuck. for like twelve hundred different reasons, unthinkable, completely laughable, that he can handle this. who is going to protect him. the only reason this could be better at keeping sol mentally stable than watching viago’s back is that they will never feel purposeless or need to go looking for an adrenaline rush, because forget crows, an ambitious blackbird could eat that man alive. he can’t scheme. he can’t even SCHEME and the very fact that he trusts sol DE RIVA demonstrates this. sol is a crow! from another house! does he have no memory at all of the fact that his own parents died in crow infighting? sol could have been playing him this whole time, it wouldn’t have even been hard, and if they were that kind of person, then right now the first talon’s house would have just fallen directly in their hands like a gift from the maker, and they can’t even say a part of themself they can’t shut off isn’t thinking about it that way! how is sol supposed to keep someone like that alive?

you see what it’s like trying to sleep while sol is having this discussion in my mind.

ahem. anyway. pathways for sol’s life assuming they indeed make it through the game:

becoming lucanis’ guard dog the way they were for viago, which (even if they could mentally handle that, which they can’t. or can they??) means switching house loyalties which would surely destroy them eventually -> bad

somehow trying to persuade lucanis to give this up, as if that wouldn’t be throwing house dellamorte completely to the dogs, which at least sol can’t imagine any crow is capable of, let alone someone so dedicated to clinging to what remains of his family that he couldn’t even kill a traitor -> bad

going ahead and leaving the crows, but sol now has to leave BOTH viago and lucanis behind and also lucanis is going to die in there because they left him to do this alone -> bad

solution: sol is back on their original “if a blighted dragon eats me by the end of this, i don’t have to experience consequences” train

and maybe they’re right and i should not worry about this because i’m painfully aware it’s VERY bold to start deciding what happens after the game at this point, when they might still get trapped in the fade or turned into paste or something. and admittedly they did know and dread the possibilities from the first moment they felt something for lucanis, which was why they so wanted it to be anyone else, because anyone else in that lighthouse could have given them a different world, and he is the one who regardless of his best or worst intentions can only tie them tighter to a burning building. and SURE, i see the solas/mythal breakup parallels of sol still leaving, i’m looking at them, that doesn’t mean i have to LIKE them

he hasn’t even kissed them. they’re doing all of this unkissed. lucanis dellamorte when i get you

again please absolutely do not respond to any of this with even the vaguest of hints if you know more about the rest of the game than me 🙏 it’s probably best if no-one responds to this at all lmao i am just thinking out loud. you can reply with a “that’s rough buddy”. for sol

[ultramaga]

In Australia, regardless of who you vote for, things stay pretty much the same. Why?

For example, in Australia, Leftists have screwed up the country, making it more and more sexist and racist. How? Because they decided to create a "totally independent" body to police sexism and racism and so on, called the AHRC. Now if a Leftist screeches for the death of people of a certain group, the AHRC checks against the list of approved targets. Basically the government claims to be neither sexist nor racist, because it has checked itself. It just pretends that the Leftists of the AHRC are just somehow coincidentally coming up with the same conclusions that they do. So any politician who wanted to remove the discrimination would have to sack a huge amount of the civil service here, who are almost entirely staffed by people who hate the country and every one in it. Leftists saw that the way to infiltrate and subvert wasn't through democracy, but through the back doors. And if a politician tried to reform thing here, chances are they would be ruined and retired. All of the media, with maybe the exception of Sky News, would pump out propaganda against them, and every member of the huge civil service, down to the teachers, would be quietly pushing for their destruction via social media. You do not speak against this if you are a teacher, or you will be next.

I remember decades ago I spoke to a Labor Politician called Peter Garrett.

Yep, that was him, back in the days he was an edgy rocker. Anyway, he told me he didn't believe in any of the things he'd been saying. He'd gotten elected on words he'd sung, but had never meant. I argued that Australia needed a Bill of Rights, like the Americans had. He told me primly that the Labor Party had decided that the serfs do not need such things. I was hardcore Labor as a child, and that started my drift away. I had a look at the rival Party, but found it was just a watered down version - really, that's predictable as I believe the same marketing company was determining their policies. None of them had the guts to believe in anything, because they wanted the cushy chair and the cushy pension, and if they spoke up against the status quo, they'd be tossed out and left to drown in the sea of media hatred.

There are no independent voices on Aus. Media, not really. I watched ABC Australia the other night and they were discussing the election, and Fox News. I was confused as to why they thought they were important - most youtube channels have more viewers. Hell, I remember when Sargon of Akkad regularly pulled in more views. He was a gigantic influence globally, but he was never mentioned by the ABC. He was erased from existence - but they couldn't do the same with the Joe Rogan show, not entirely. The funny thing is Joe used to be their sort of guy, used to believe the things they did, but the Leftists moved hard away from Freedom and to Totalitarianism, and ever since it has been the quiet little youtubers and podcasters who have been moving the needle. JRE is important, but if he was assassinated tomorrow, the resistance to Leftism would carry on. Hell, Asmongold was just another gaming channel, and it became politicised. Leftists have become too awful and powerful to be ignored. You can't just tune out after work now, when loading up Dragon Age means having someone lecture at you for hours about gender pronouns.

Everywhere you look, there is Leftist propaganda, often State funded like with Dustborn, which taxpayers were forced to pay for. So it's natural now for normal people to look for a game, give up, look for a movie, give up, look for any goddamn thing that entertains - and the only thing left is youtubers encouraging them to burn the whole damn thing down and start again.

[beloveds-embrace]

Noona I have toughts and need to share them before they forever get lost in the void that is my AuHD brain. I also realised I never introduced myself, you can call be eevee (like the pokemon) and I go by any pronouns!

Simon Riley didnt want to have children. Its not that he didn't like children, he was actually quite fond of them and something inside him melted when ever a chubby cheeked tolder smiled up at him with their little teeth poking through and when a lost child came up to him when he was out shopping and asked him to help find their parents because he was the tallest person there and that obviously meant he could find them easier, he was bending down to the childs level his eyes soft and warm as he asked their names and what they looked like. He was constantly in awe of the little humans who just saw him as a man, not the monester he believed he was in his mind. What stopped him from having children was fear.

Fear he would turn out like his own father, fear that something would happen that would trigger him (because lets be real, the mans a vet and he sure as hell suggees from PTSD) and he would do something he would regret. Fear that he would be sent on a mission and be lost forever, no one knowing where he was or where his body is and he wouldn't make it home to his partner and kids. Fear of raising them wrong or doing the wrong thing and they turn into monsters themselves. It was a fear so strong that he went and got a vasectomy at the age of 18 to prevent any accidents and even with the vasectomy he insists on another form of birth control before he has sex with anyone.

Then he meets you. All soft and sweet and kind and bright. So so bright. All his life has been a dark cloud and rolling thunder clouds just waiting to burst and drown him in their water, but you are like a hint of sun shining through the clouds. Reminding him that every dark day has its end, that even after a storm there is brightness and colour with rainbows. That even if the clouds burst and dark, heavy rain drenches his soul there is still goodness in the world and the sun will always be there to dry and brighten the world again. And he falls in love and for the first time in a long time, he is truly happy.

You obviously know Simon didn't want kids, it was something he told you when you first started dating but it wasn't a deal breaker, you weren't even sure you wanted kids either. You had your own trauma and darkness to work through before you wanted to even start thinking about kids.

After learning more about Simon and his past, you manage to talk him into seeing a trauma therapist. You knew therapy wasn't for everyone but you wanted him to at least try because there were parts of himself he kept so deeply locked away behind stainless steel doors with reinforced padlock that he needed to discuss with someone and he wouldn’t talk about it with you, he didnt want his darkness to dampen your light, but he agreed. He did one session and then another and then another, actually finding benefit in them as he discussed his fears out in the open for the first time. About what he had been through with his dad and as a soldier. He knew bottling everything up didnt help, usually finding solace for his overwhelming thoughrs in a bottle of whiskey that msde the world disappear, he knew it made him for volitaile and dangerous and he didnt want to be dangerous around you, not now. Not ever. He wanted you to expeirnce the same sense of peace ans safety with him as he did you.

Eventually he worked through his fears of fatherhood and having children, realising that he could break the cycle and be the dad he didnt have. He wants to discuss it with you, the potential of having his vasectomy reversed, especially after Johnnys missus has a baby and he sees how good you are with them. Holding them so comfroably in your arms and soothing them when they fuss and hes even surprised with how good he is with them. Able to hold them in one arm, tight against his chest so the baby can hear his heartbeat. You watch him with a small smile, your heart melting at the sight as you feel yourself falling in love with him all over again. After that day you two become the designated baby sitters for the littlest MacTavish and Simon takes to caring for it like a fish in water.

Its a few months later, after Johnny picks his baby up that you overhear Johnny ask Simon about having his own little one and Simon says he's been thinking about it, been thinking about having his vasectomy reversed and giving you the baby you deserve (because he has noticed the sad look in your eyes everytime you give the little one back to his parents and how happy you ar holding them in your arms). Johnny reassurs him that hes nothing to worry about, hed be a great father and hes sure that youd agree. So that night, after showers and dinner he brings it up and he assures you hes doing it because he wants to. Because he wants to have a baby and not just because you seem to want one and when tou agree, hed phoning the clinic the next morning to get his vasectomy reversed and you're phoning to get your birthcontrol stopped

Once its done, it takes a maximum of three months before you're pregnant and Simon stands with you in the bathroom waiting for the results to come up on the test. Hes hand holding yours and his heart beating erratically in his chest as five minutes seems like five hours and as soon as the test shows positive hes sweeping you up into his arms and thanking you over and over between kisses for giving him a baby, tears prick at his eyelids but dont quite fall

But when you're little girl, Aurora, is born he cries. His heart is just so full of love for the little girl in his arms and for you that he can't help the emotions from spilling over.

So yeah, Simon Riley didnt want kida but he is so damn glad he meet you and he did

this is so wholesome and cute and sweet?? i love it so so so much omfg thank you for sending this in! girldad!simon means everything to me <333

[wannabanauthor]

I have a fix-it idea for BuckTommy:

Tommy regrets his decision the moment he says “Buck” and leaves.

Once he’s in his truck, he just sits there, not moving from the spot. Everything was fine just a few minutes ago.

Did he act too impulsively? Was he just scared and running away?

It takes him a good 30 minutes before his mind is quiet enough for him to start up his truck and drive home.

The moment he steps into his house, he breaks down in gut-wrenching sobs.

He knows that he made the wrong choice by ending things, but that little bit of truth is buried in so much darkness that he can’t possibly see a way out.

He grabs a beer from his fridge and pauses. Evan had purchased a six pack for him when he noticed Tommy was running low.

Fuck, Tommy already misses him. The pain consumes his entire soul, and he sits on his couch holding the ice cold beer while tears stream down his face.

Before he can muster up the courage to take a sip, the doorbell rings.

He sets the beer down, and goes to open the door.

He was too messed up to even check the peephole.

Maybe the gods or the universe were working in his favor, because he opens the door and comes face to face with Evan. Had he looked through the peephole, he wouldn’t have had the strength to open the door.

Evan is standing in front of him with red puffy eyes, and dried tears on his cheeks. He looks up at Tommy with the most heartbroken expression, and Tommy can’t help himself.

He grabs Evan by the shirt and pulls him closer before claiming his lips with a searing kiss.

It felt so good to feel him again, to taste him again.

Evan gives off a slight moan, and Tommy is lost in him.

They’re not gentle with each other they strip down while keeping their mouths fused together.

Tommy refuses to break contact. He longs to be lost in Evan once more.

They barely make it to his bedroom, but they make it. Evan doesn’t want to let go of him either.

The sex is intense and desperate. Neither one of them wants to let go of this feeling. Neither one of them wants to deal with the whirlwind emotions of heartbreak.

They cling to each other the entire time, for as long as possible, until they can’t go on any longer.

Rather than discussing what happened, they just pretend to fall asleep without talking to each other. Eventually, sleep finds them, but it’s anything but relaxing.

Tommy wakes up alone. Not sure if last night really happened or if it all was just a dream. He pulls some gym clothes on, ready to exercise so hard that he won’t have to think about Evan.

But as soon as he enters the living room, he sees Evan sitting at the dining room table looking just as lost and hurt as he did last night.

Evan looks up at him with a small smile and says, “We need to talk.”

Tommy wants to run again, but he fights it this time and joins Evan at the table. Maybe this time, he’ll hear him out.

Maybe this time, he’ll face his fears and fight for Evan just as hard as Evan will fight for him.