#Think about why you are tempted to something

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

So, I finished reading this post right as the alarm went off for me to make supper, and if that alarm hadn't gone off, it would probably have been subsumed in "the Scroll," but instead it had a chance to really sit and stew while I was cooking and putting the dishes away and...

I am fond of Fiddler on the Roof. I grew up with it, because we lived too far out of the city to get over-the-air TV and my parents didn't spring for cable or satellite. Instead, I grew up with videos, and because my mom loved the musicals of her childhood (think: Rodgers and Hammerstein--she was born in 1961), this was one of them.

I'm not Jewish at all. To borrow a phrase from my favourite author, "I can only reply that I regret that I appear to have no ancestors of that gifted people." Indeed, I grew up sufficiently far from urban centers that I don't know of having ever met anyone Jewish until after I left high school. My experience of Judaism was exclusively filtered through the Christian Bible and media--so Fiddler on the Roof was arguably rather important.

Certainly, I didn't understand what was going on the way someone Jewish would--I was the Catholic in-law in the earlier posts. And, as kids go, I was non-American enough and nerdy enough to have some interest in history, so I eventually had some idea what a pogrom, but I didn't get it; I didn't see the whole movie as a horror story. But I did recognise that it was a downer ending. I couldn't have articulated why, probably because I didn't see what a Jewish viewer did through the first parts of the film. But the ending did cast a shadow back over it. If nothing else, it yanked a the film from being a comedic set in la-la-land firmly back into reality. It kind of worked, if you didn't know what the Jewish viewers know, like the abrupt end of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, but backwards.

I haven't thought too much about Fiddler in the intervening score of years, but if I did, it was sort of through that lens of being a kid and of it taking place "a thousand years ago" (rounding). Like, I sort of knew it had really happened... ish... to real people, but it wasn't something I thought about.

But now?

I'm still not Jewish (sorry--though I have been tempted). But I understand more than I understood as a preteen. Maybe it's the resurgence of Czarist Russia in the early 2020s... maybe it's the "rise of Fascism" vibe of the current "roaring" 20s... I don't know, but it doesn't feel like real life "back then." It feels like real life right now.

I'm absolutely floored that it's supposed to be set in 1905. This is what churned around in my butter-tub of a head putting away the dishes. As a kid, I had thought it set about 1880. I don't know why and I don't know what difference that 25 years would make--the last 25 years have flown by way too fast--but it made the difference I guess in my head that Fiddler was a period piece to me, rather than something "20th century."

The movie was released in 1971. That means a 10 year-old kid in 1905 was only 76. A 20-year-old (say... Tevye's daughter), would have only been in her mid-80s. In other words, the pogroms were in living memory.

(As an aside, the nearness of history shouldn't shock me, but it constantly does. In this case, it really shouldn't shock me. My own non-Russian great-grandparents were ALSO fleeing Russia in the 1900/1910s. I even sort of knew that as a kid. I just... didn't put it together.)

The tsarist pogroms are out of living memory now--barely. I don't think I ever really thought about what the end of living memory meant, but in my lifetime, living memory has ended for a few things (not all of them serious): the Victorian era and WWI, for example, and now we're fast going to see more things pass. All of which is to say that all things I and my generation assumed because we grew up "in living memory of" can't be assumed.

The span from the pogroms to today isn't even two lifetimes, but it only takes one to forget.

Dear God, did you have to send me news like that, today of all days? I know, I know we are The Chosen People, but once in awhile, can't you choose someone else?

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: popular!hockey player!anakin x nerd!reader

FLUFF ❦

You are going to kill him. Starting with his hands, then his stupidly-handsome face and this insufferable grin. The rest is just a matter of your anger and frustration. Why? Because ANAKIN SKYWALKER had been playing with you for weeks, claiming you as his new victim. Stealing your food, stealing your things, stealing your time, and probably - definitely - stealing kisses from you..

"You," you seethed, pointing an accusative finger at him, eyes narrowing at the thick novel he twirled lazily between his long-too-tempting fingers. "Give. It. Back."

Anakin's eyes snapped the moment he heard your voice, setting them right on your face. With that, he let his lips curl into this grin you found insufferable (let's highlight that) and hot. In all his cocky, utterly beautiful glory, he had the nerve to lean back in his chair, stretch his long legs out, before spreading them, and flipping through pages like he had all the time in the world.

"Mm," he hummed, pretending to skim a sentence. "Y’know, sunshine" he clicked his tongue "This is pretty interesting stuff. Who knew you were into—" he glanced at the cover, lips curling, "—grumpy historical philosophers?"

"You wouldn’t understand," you muttered, reaching for it— or just trying to, because he yanked it away at the last second, holding it just out of your reach.

Maker, you hated him. Despised him. (Did not, under any circumstances, thought about him at night, or in class, or in very specific daydreams that made your lower stomach do things.)

"Alright," he mused, tapping his chin. "I'll give them back… but only if you give me a kiss."

You blinked. "A what."

"A kiss," he repeated, completely unfazed, as if the request was normal..to him, of course. "Right here." He tapped his lips, smirking like he knew it would drive you crazy. "C’mon, sunshine, it's a fair trade."

Your face burned. Eyes deeply, shockingly gazed into his "Anakin, I swear to the Maker—"

"Ohhh, she’s threatening me now," he teased, blue eyes twinkling. He had the time of his life.. "What are you gonna do, huh? Report me?"

"Yes!"

"To who?" He laughed, tilting his head. "Mr. Kenobi? Because I just saw him leave for his lunch break. You could wait until he’s back, but…" He sighed dramatically, pressing his lips in fake-dissapointed, thin line "I don't think you have time, sweetheart."

You groaned, ready to throw the biggest tantrum right there in the hallway. Or throw the nearest chair at him, again, you weren't sure "You’re insufferable!"

"And yet, I think you still love me."

"No, I don’t."

"Liar."

You glared at him so hard, with such anger, hatred (not really), pure irritation at every cell in his body that decided to play with you, to tease you, to make your little comfortable world burn to the heels with madness. Yet, the problem was—Anakin wasn’t fazed at all. No, instead, his gaze softened, and his voice dropped into something more gentle, more reverent.

"You are so beautiful when you're mad, you know that?" he murmured, smirk fading into something softer, something fond, something that made your face burn as if it was on fire.

Because Anakin always did this. He always worshiped you, even in the most ridiculous moments, like he couldn't help but be absolutely, completely smitten by whatever you were doing. And it was weird, to be honest. After all, who were you, really? Just a nerdy girl with glasses, who spent most of her time reading books and playing games for kids...while, Anakin Skywalker, was the breathing perfection of this school. Talented hockey player, too handsome face, deep voice, A-student that didn't even learn (he had his ways)..every girl drooled on him, and yet, you were the one he chose..

"...Fine," you muttered, heat creeping up your neck.

"Fine what?"

"Fine I'll kiss you!" Anakin barely had time to process your angry response further before you grabbed his face and pressed the quickest, most barely-there kiss to his lips—just enough to make his breath hitch, to leave him stunned, to hopefully make him give your stuff back

When you finally pulled away, he blinked, looking shamelessly dazed. And that's to the God above, your book—once held hostage—was shoved back into your arms.

"...Damn," Anakin muttered, dreamingly gazing at your face "Should’ve asked for two."

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him. You did not want to be near Anakin Skywalker ever again...for today..at least for this hour.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Alright that’s it, need the trying to make her laugh scenario with Red Hood Rapi, I feel it’s prob a challenge but the reward at the end….

(GoV:NIKKE) Rapi's S/O trying to make her laugh

To be fair, with Red Hood Rapi your chances go significantly higher.

Ever since Rapi had fully embraced herself, she had become much more forward than before with both the Commander and S/O.

In Anis's words:

(Anis) "Careful now, S/O. She practically doesn't have any shame now, you're in danger!"

Which was a light-hearted tease that ended up ringing a little more true than intended.

But at the same time, Rapi was still Rapi, for better and worse.

Meaning that getting her to laugh was still just as hard as ever...Or was it?

Rapi adjusted the hair out of her eyes as she sat down in the lounge, about to read over a few documents before hearing S/O enter the room.

(S/O) "Rapi! There you are!"

(Rapi) "S/O? Is everything ok-?"

She turned around to face them, stopping midsentence when she saw what they were wearing.

(Rapi) "...Why in the world are you wearing a crab suit?-"

(S/O) "Neon and Anis wanted to put me in something worse! I need you to help me get this off so I can hide!"

She remained frozen in her seat for only a few seconds before immediately nodding, almost vaulting over the couch and rushing over to help.

(Rapi) "I will help you get the outfit off, but why are you even in this to begin with?"

They stuttered, unable to look her in the eye as she helped unzip the suit from the back.

(S/O) "W-Well...truth is I wanted to make you laugh, and they suggested wearing a stupid costume."

She made a hum of acknowledgement, finishing unzipping and letting them get out of the suit. They were still in their regular uniform, meaning they were probably burning up right now.

(S/O) "-I was on board until they suggested doing something more daring, like cat ears and...some other weird stuff! Some of the other Nikkes were about to join in, so I made a run for it!"

They turned around, about to continue before they saw Rapi smiling, causing their brain to short circuit.

The smile was so...genuine. Her eyes were filled with warmth, as well as the hand that cupped their cheek, making their heart skip a beat.

(Rapi) "Well, I think you can mark that objective as a success."

S/O leaned into her touch, moving closer to let her hands take them into an embrace.

(S/O) "But you're not laughing though."

Rolling her eyes at their teasing, she instead had a better idea.

She pulled away, disappointing S/O for only a second before she kissed them, their lips connected in a quiet, intimate space.

Finally, Rapi took them into another hug before helping S/O step out of the costume.

(Rapi) "Believe me, I'm entertained...And touched you'd get in such an asinine outfit for me."

(S/O) "Hah, anything for my Rapi."

She smiled at that, tempted to lean in again and-

(Neon) "S/O! WHERE ARE YOU?! YOU'RE PUTTING THIS TAIL ON!"

(Rapi) "Commander's room, now."

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

The disparity between your Motley Crue section and GNR terrifies me, so as your seemingly one Nikki Sixx fan, I have come with a request.

Fluff.

I know, how terrible, how foul, how utterly depraved. But I almost never see fluff of this man & Jesus fuck does he deserve all the softness and comfort.

(I would not complain about smut, though seperately cause he is absolutely horrifically hot in the sense he's really pretty and sweet on the outside and then there's something dark swirling behind his eyes)

A/n: The difference is insane I get a little giggle out of it every time ngl

Warnings: Nikki cries but other than that it's fluff, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Nikki was a big name in a big city and craved attention, when you first started dating you didn't care, you still didn't really, but you did worry about him.

You tried getting him to open up more but it was pointless, he switched the topic or laughed it off. Eventually you gave up, when he was on stage he was having fun and when he was with you he was definitely having fun, but you just moved in together and it was new.

Nikki was used to being alone, he was always alone. He had his band, but once Motley got big there was no need sticking together all the time, and he grew up with his grandparents mostly but he was still relatively distant. Now you were around all the time, at shows, the bar, when he came home and when he left. That's not to say he hated it, he just wasn't used to it.

He came home one night after a show and dropped his stuff by the door, having planned to just crawl into bed but he saw you in the kitchen so he went there first. "What're you doing?" He asked, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You giggled when he kissed your cheek and returned it before speaking.

"Making dinner, why?" You asked, stirring the noodles in the pot. "Tired?" Nikki didn't respond, he was just stuck staring in the pot hugging you from behind. "Nikki?" You spoke again. When you didn't get a response you just left him, figuring he had had a long day or something of the sorts.

The radio was on in the background, Deep Purple came on. You weren't big on them but Nikki always liked them and you knew the song so you started humming along to it, swaying your hips as you did. Still no reaction from Nikki but he smile softly, you felt it against your neck as he watched you cook.

He got ingredients when you asked him to and helped with cleaning up as you went but if you didn't tell him to do something he was right behind you, giving you a squeeze here and there.

This felt different. Something was wrong. Very wrong. It's not that Nikki wasn't cuddly, per se, he definitely could be, something was just... wrong.

You sat down and ate, he said nothing. You finished cleaning up, nothing. Watching TV and getting ready for bed, still nothing, you even tempted him with lingerie but he barely batted an eye, only gave a wry chuckle and shook his head at you.

Nikki got into bed and laid down where he always did, head on his pillow, splayed out for you to cuddle up to. He stared at the ceiling while you stared at him, thinking for a moment.

Nikki looked to you, a brow raised in curiosity. "What're you doing?" He asked just as he had earlier.

You let out a heavy sigh and crossed your arms over your chest, resting your weight on one side. "You're acting weird." You stated. Nikki thought for a moment and then laid his head back, giving the spot next to him a small pat.

You did as he silently asked and got in, but you paused as you did. Instead of curling up against him you copied his position, didn't even use his arm as a pillow like you did every other night.

Nikki gave you a sideways look and waited for you to roll up into him, but you didn't. "Are you mad at me?" He asked finally, his voice much too soft for your liking. It was weird, all of it, nothing was normal. He could be sweet, sure, but this wasn't sweet soft, this was 'did I mess up again?' soft and you didn't like the look in his eyes.

"No, I'm not, of course I'm not mad at you." You said, reaching over to cup his face in your hand. "It's your turn to cuddle tonight." He raised a brow at you but seemed to understand pretty quick when you pulled him closer. Nikki was big and strong and happy with that so he was always the big spoon, if you were on the couch you were laying on top of him, it didn't matter the setting.

He let his head fall on your chest, your arms wrapping around him and rubbing his back. You tried to remember the tune of the song you were humming along to earlier and started again, letting him listen to it and your heartbeat, putting him to sleep.

Only he didn't sleep, you heard sniffles coming from him and quickly went to check on him. Nikki shook his head and pushed his face further into you, hiding. You wanted to push him on it, get him to tell you what was wrong so you could help but instead just let him cry into you while you held and comforted him until he finally fell asleep.

It's what he did for you, and you could be his pillow every now and then if it made him feel better.

[kpop-cakepops]

Gold and Diamonds (KMG x AFAB!Reader)

Word Count: 1,342

He's been in my heaaaaaaaad. Get him out!!!!!

Warnings: Slightly suggestive if you REALLY squint, very mild cursing, mutual pining (seriously, mingyu is deliciously pathetic for you), insinuated fwb to lovers? Kinda?

Head over heels, and he knew you knew. Mingyu wasn't shy about the way his piercing black eyes followed your every move no matter where you were... but something had changed. He could see it in the way your eyes would occasionally meet his while you conversed with another one of your guests. He could see it when you'd sneak a peek at him over the edge of your champagne flute. He could see it in the way your feet brought you closer and closer to him subconsciously between conversations until you finally stood before him.

"Hey," you greeted with a small mischievous smile that attempted to hide the time you'd spent together that morning, tangled in your sheets.

Mingyu couldn't help the smile that brightened his face, nor could he hide the way his eyes turned to honey the moment he heard your voice. "Hey," his chest felt like it would explode. It always did when you were around.

In a bold move, you took a step closer to him, who was sitting on a stool by the bar, thighs open and welcoming. It wasn't long before you had wedged yourself between his legs, earning yourself a few curious and nosy glances from the people around the two of you. Your eyes had a slight glaze to them, and Mingyu wondered if you were drunk.

"You good?" He asked almost breathlessly as he watched your fingers play with his on his lap. You stayed silent for a few seconds before looking up at him.

"Was it necessary for you to come to my birthday party looking so good?" You questioned with a slight pout. "I can't stop looking at you."

He took a swig of the drink in his hand and smiled teasingly, "Isn't that a good thing?"

"I don't know, I think it's a little scary," you admit in a soft voice, bearly audible.

With a raised brow, Mingyu leans closer to you, "Why scary?"

You look up to find Mingyu's face unbearably close to yours. So close it had your heart hammering against your chest, begging to be put out of its misery. "I missed you."

"We were together all morning"

"I know... and I started missing you the moment you left my apartment." Your hands were now holding his face tenderly, sending chills down his spine.

"And why is that?" Foreheads pressed against each other. It was as if the entire party around you both had disappeared. It was just you and Mingyu sharing each other's space.

"Are you really going to make me say it? On my birthday?" Your sweet breath fanned over his needy lips in a tempting way. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to take your hand and drag you away from everyone, have you all to himself.

"Would you rather I kissed you in front of all your frie-"

You didn't allow him to finish his sentence. Your lips were far too impatient to wait for him to finish teasing you. Mingyu all too expertly pulled you in closer. His large hands guide your own over his shoulders, making it easier for your body to nestle into the familiar shape of his torso. The one you'd been printing kisses on just hours before.

"You're an asshole" you mumbled against his lips, "fuck, you're such an asshole"

Unwillingly, Mingyu pulled away from the kiss, rubbing his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "You can't say that to me when you've known all along how fucking in love with you I am."

"I know," you tell him, "that's why I feel stupid... because you deserve better."

"I don't want better." He pecks your lips reassuringly, "there isn't better... so stop driving me crazy and marry me already"

You chortle at the suddenness of his proposal. You loved that about him. His impulsiveness. "Should we? I don't think Daddy dearest would like that too much."

The tips of his fingers pushed your hair out of your eyes, taking the chance to lift your chin and catch your hazy eyes in his intense ones. "Say the word, and I'll talk to your father myself... or better yet, I'll steal you away. We catch a flight to Vegas and elope in some random chapel. He can't undo what's been done, right?"

You peck his lips swiftly and shake your head, "You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Kim, but I'm afraid it's too soon for you to be calling me your wife. Let's settle for officially calling me your girlfriend, how about that?"

His shoulders fell slightly, but his grip on your waist tightened and brought you closer once again. His warm lips finding your ear whispering secrets meant for only you to hear "Are you trying to imply that despite spending the better part of the past year tangled in my sheets, you're not my girlfriend? I'm hurt, Miss Y/L/N."

"I've always thought of myself to be more of your beloved, darling, sweetheart, and confidant... was I too forward in believing that much?" You ask him.

The soft smirk on his face lets you know he's aware that this is your way of finally admitting that he's just as much your world as you are his. After all, for a person who claimed not to care about titles, you certainly kept track of all the pretty ones he gave you.

"Too forward? I just asked you to marry me for the third time this week, Y/N"

A rush of warmth spreads through your body as you take in every detail of his face. The sincerity and honey in his eyes as he examines you right back. You take your time to drink in his face the same way you had that morning, and the morning before that, and the one before that. The truth was, you'd known it from the first time you saw him. From the first time he smiled your way, almost causing you to melt into your sleek Louboutin heels.

"I'm going to marry you, Kim Mingyu," you whispered back into his ear, causing him to tense up. "You'll get to put a ring on my finger and call me your wife someday... aren't you a lucky guy?"

You felt embarrassed at saying it so openly and to Mingyu, no less. Not embarrassed of your feelings but rather embarrassed of having hidden your own wish of being his, and yet Mingyu couldn't care less about that.

"When?" He asked, snapping you back to reality.

"When what?"

"When will you let me marry you?" The sparkle in his eyes did not go unnoticed. He meant the question, he wanted to know... but a little teasing never killed anyone. That is why you grin big at him, as you wiggle yourself free from his grip.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and find out" with a gentle and loving tap of his cheek, you start for yet another table of guests feeling that burn of Mingyu's hopeful gaze on your back. You hoped to greet as many guests as possible within the next 30 minutes.

After all, 30 minutes is as much as Mingyu's patience would allow before he inevitably finds you and drags you back home to show you how much he deserves to be the man to put the shiniest and prettiest mix of gold and diamonds on your left ring finger.

[cynicalmusings]

i’m kind of tempted to write a series of little anecdotes of socrates!reader interacting with each amphoreus cast member and just… either winding them up or confusing the hell out of them until the characters give up and leave the conversation.

mydei is the easiest to frustrate, and about three minutes into the discussion, he’s just like “i don’t care about this. go away before i want to punch you,” and goes off.

phainon is initially willing to have a discussion—it couldn’t hurt that much, right?—before regretting it severely. to do him justice, he fares relatively well, but after ten to fifteen minutes he has to leave (1) he has no idea what’s going on anymore and (2) he feels a crushing existential crisis coming on which he would rather suffer through in privacy (which is to say he breaks down from existential dread the moment he leaves your line of sight).

tribbie doesn’t get angry, but they’re another one who gets a touch confused. they get both the others in on it, too, and by the end you’ve got the whole group being like “…we’re sorry, we don’t think we can do this anymore” and flying off. they’re pretty polite and honest about what they don’t understand, though, which you appreciate.

castorice, having studied at the grove, has some background in this kind of thing, and she keeps up with the debate pretty well. when she doesn’t understand something, she’ll be open about it and ask you to clarify, making for a good conversation partner. she also strikes me as a pretty patient type, so she won’t lose her temper or anything while you get very particular in your arguments, either. i feel like the main reason she would call off the discussion is because she needs more time to think about how to respond to something you’ve said (and the constant interchange has probably tired her out a little, too).

hyacine is pretty honest from the get-go that philosophy isn’t an area she has much direct experience with, but because she’s nice and doesn’t want to let you down, she’s happy to go along with it. she gets a little emotion when you question her about why life is meaningful and whether it’s really worth inconveniencing oneself to help another (which isn’t to necessarily say you hold these views yourself; your main objective is to gauge her position and how she responds to such a challenge) — and soon tells you that she feels like she can’t do this anymore and needs a moment to herself.

aglaea would be really difficult to befuddle, frustrate, or get any major reaction from. she’s very calculated with her responses, good at keeping a level head, and doesn’t reveal her emotional position. the only way you could get under her skin, if you so wished to play devil’s advocate, is by challenging her about the value of okhema and its citizens. even then, she’d barely crack, but if you’re looking closely, you might be able to tell she’s

finally, debates with anaxa are… literally nothing new. you’ve been bugging him with constant questions for years, and he’s used to it by now (to be honest, he probably ought to thank you for it — you kind of act as his argument-checker to see if he’s overlooked any problems or made any assumptions with any claim he makes). he might pretend to be a little annoyed, but really, he enjoys your intellectual matches. the only ways you could wind him up is (1) committing a fallacy in your argument on purpose/ acting with intellectual dishonesty, which you would just… never do, or (2) saying something (probably negative) about yourself, which… also would never really come up in a discussion, because you’re interested in knowing stuff, not talking about yourself.

(he’s also definitely tried to convince you to take part in the annual great debate on multiple occasions, but you refuse every time. to be fair, every day is a ‘great debate’ for you and whichever unfortunate soul you run into that day… so it’s understandable why you don’t need to join some tournament to get, what, some public affirmation of your debating skill? who needs that? does it get you closer to uncovering knowledge about the world? no? well, you’re just not interested, then.)

[unintentionaloracle]

Ulterior Motives [Fic]

And now for something a little different! I got hit with a steel chair of inspiration while working on something else and now here we are.

Summary: A heated exchange about The Rock's proposition leads to Drew making Cody his own... spicier proposition. But it's just for mutual gain...right?

(Note: There's also mentions of past Candy (and suggested one-sided/unrequited current Candy))

Drew stormed after Cody as the latter went to his tour bus. He stopped him before he could enter, trapping him against its garishly ad-laden body with one arm. Looking at it almost answered Drew's question for him as he glared down at Cody:

“Are you seriously considering selling your damn soul to The Rock?”

Cody's blue eyes met Drew's own with defiance. “Like I said, it's not off the table, yet. I still need to think about it.”

“Still need to think about it!?” Drew parroted. “The Golden Boy’s really considering taking the easy way with his championship reign?” Drew poked Cody's title belt. “Whenever I wear the championship, I fight tooth and nail to defend it. You have to damn near kill me, play dirty, or both to pry it off me.”

“Really? Are you pissed about me potentially insulting the honor of the championship? Or are you pissed at the idea that if you win the Elimination Chamber, you'll have to deal with whatever being “The Rock's Champion” entails?”

Drew clenched his fists. The thought of being screwed over by Roman's extended family yet again, let alone when he got to the main event of WrestleMania, had crossed his mind. And yet, it wasn't the main thing bothering him.

“That isn't you, Cody. At least, not anymore. You're the man who fought hard to get to where you are. Now you want to do things the easy way!?”

“I AM TIRED, DREW!” Cody shouted. It made Drew almost shrink to Cody's height.

“I’ve had to deal with The Bloodline at every corner. Been tricked. Dealt with spoiled brats. Watched as people–my friends–suffered on my behalf to get and keep me where I am. Had a once dear friend betray and nearly kill me. And now? For the first time in a long time, I’m alone! Jey's got his own story to finish. Sami...hurts to think about. Seth is...well, he's Seth. And Randy...I don't know when he’ll be back. So forgive me if buckling to a higher power sounds tempting, Chosen One.”

Drew twitched at both his former moniker and the mention of Randy. Cody looked genuinely distressed after listing his woes. Something inside the Scotsman, something he long thought dormant, bubbled for the first time. Cody turned to try and leave, only for Drew to fully pin him to the wall. “Having The Rock's hand up your ass like his puppet sure as hell won't fix that. Things are hard? Then why not just quit again like last time?”

Drew could tell he pushed another button, and got his mind off his troubles. Cody, however, seemed ungrateful for the tough “love”. “Forgive me if I'm not eager to take career advice from the man well on his way to getting fired twice.” He sniped back.

Normally, a comment like that would get someone a one way ticket to Claymore Country. But when Cody did it here, away from prying eyes, it was almost fun. Being alone was also nostalgic, whether he wanted to admit it or not. It even gave him...ideas...

“Ya know, if you're so stressed and lonely, I have a better solution. Not that you'll ever let me...”

“Try me,” Cody bit back.

Drew smirked. Now it was fun. “Alright, but remember: you asked for this,” he said, chuckling in a low rumble. He cupped Cody's face, his palms fitting his cheekbones nicely, and gave him a kiss for the first time in a decade and a half. It was meant to be quick...

...were it not for Cody grabbing him as soon as he pulled away and sending his lips crashing back into his, trying to press himself to Drew as close as he could.

Damn, you really are wound up tight if just a kiss has you like this... Drew thought, a little amused and pleased with himself. Still, who was he to deny the poor man? He pressed Cody against the bus, reasserting control as his hands drifted to the back of Cody's neck and his hip. Drew escalated the kiss to a make out, enjoying a soft sigh from Cody before shutting up that oh-so-noble mouth of his.

It was a far cry from years ago, their short fling where they (mostly he) fumbled around like awkward teenagers when they held the tag titles. They were practically boys back then, compared to now. Drew pulled Cody's leg up to his hip, hand drifting down his thigh as he tried to send a message: Drew McIntyre was more than a man now, and one hell of a lover. Especially compared to the ex he'd been in the shadow of back then.

A thought crossed Drew's mind. He broke the kiss briefly, letting his hand drift back up Cody's thigh. “Is your pet Viper gonna throw a hissy fit when he finds out about me kissing his precious little Nightmare?” he purred.

Cody panted. “He shouldn't. Me and Randy are just friends now. It's not his concern.”

Could've fooled me, Drew thought, the way he looks at you.

“Good. I don't like sharing,” he said, about to dive back in. Cody stopped him with a hand to his face, lowering his leg.

“What's your game here, McIntyre? What's in it for you?” Cody said, raising an eyebrow.

Drew removed Cody's hand from his face and placed it on his chest, making Cody blush (despite Cody moving it from Drew's leather jacket to his bare chest on his own accord). His free hand rested against the side of the bus above Cody's head as the other went to Cody's waist.

“If you don't take Rock's deal, I'll be your stress toy. I'll screw all the tension right out of you on the regular,” he moved the hand above Cody and opted to hold Cody's chin, causing him to get that cute confused look on his face whenever anyone touched him affectionately. “I’ll take care of you. No soul required, and the people keep their champion. I might even get to prevent another Seth or Roman from happening, so it's better for everyone, really,”

He then leaned into Cody's ear. “Just give me one night to show you what you'd be getting, so you can “think about it”. What do you say, Champ?” He whispered, making Cody visibly shiver.

Cody said nothing at first, then pushed Drew away gently. He started to go for the bus door again, not looking at him. When he hit the steps, he spoke up. “Well?”

“Well what?” Drew asked.

Cody turned around, loosening his tie before unbuttoning his vest and shirt. “Are we doing this or what?” Cody said before pulling Drew towards him by his belt buckle.

Drew grinned wolfishly. He scooped up Cody and threw him over his shoulder, giving him a quick swat to the rear before entering the bus and closing the door behind them. He found Cody's bed and threw Cody down on it. The American Nightmare looked up at The Scottish Warrior with a mixture of annoyance and arousal.

Drew licked his lips at the gorgeous sight before climbing on top of him, eager to claim his prize and get to work.

---

When they finished, Cody was trembling, lying limp on his belly as he caught his breath. Drew smiled, leaning into his ear as he rubbed Cody's back. “Ah, poor Cody. So neglected. Going so long without a good railing. And with an ass like that, too...”

Cody just continued to pant.

“You know, if you became Rock’s or corporate’s or The Bloodline’s or whoever's little sugar baby, I doubt they'd let you have any release. Let alone twice. They'd just take what they want and leave you to take care of yourself...” He surveyed Cody's prone, naked frame. “A damn tragedy, because they'll be missing out on this beautiful sight.” He said, kissing Cody's neck tattoo on its lips. (He still thought it was stupid, but he was high on afterglow and enjoying his “victory lap”. Besides, a little extra seduction couldn't hurt.)

Cody still didn't respond. Drew might've broken his brain with his dick. One more thing for him to smug about.

“And don't get me started on aftercare. I said I'd take care of you and I meant it. Hell, I'll even stay the night and cuddle you if you want it. Do you want that, Cody?” He asked, running his fingers through his short, bottle blond hair.

Cody nodded.

“Alright, want to get started?”

Cody shook his head. “Not yet.” He finally managed to rasp.

Drew chuckled. “Alright. I'll let you enjoy the afterglow a little longer. I'm gonna go use your shower because, honestly? I think I've earned it.”

Cody nodded. Drew smirked, then leaned over and kissed Cody on the cheek before excusing himself to the shower.

He didn't take long. Apparently, despite having a shower on his bus apparently being a luxury, Cody's sponsorship did not include a decent shower in his bus. The height was manageable enough, despite the cramped space, but the water pressure and temperature were abysmal! How did Cody live like this on the road?

If this goes on, that'll be something I want to talk about... He thought with a chuckle as he exited the shower, toweling off and wrapping one around his hips as he took another to his hair. Of course it was going to go on. He was Drew bloody McIntyre! He just satisfied the hell out of Cody!

He glanced at the mirror, leaning against the sink the best he could in the small space. (Note to self: maybe also insist on doing it at a hotel instead of the tour bus.) Drew smirked and winked at himself as he removed the towel from his head, some of his dark locks falling in his face. Yeah, the locker room had better thank Big D for his—

His thought was cut off by another, intrusive one. Cody's question from earlier: “What's in it for you?”

Drew brushed his hair back with his hand. It was such a dumb question! Lots of things! Keeping the playing field level come WrestleMania! Taking something from the damn Bloodline for once! The satisfaction that, whether he won or not (somehow), he’d been hitting that and probably would after! If word got out, it was something to hold over the locker room's head! To once again prove he was better than Randy! The sex in general!

Seeing Cody in the state he was in now, knowing it was all his. Hearing him desperately moan his na–

He gripped the sink. Where'd that come from?

This thing with Cody was transactional, nothing more. A mutual means to an end. Why pretend it wouldn't be? He shook it off and made his way back to Cody. “Alright, let's take care of–”

Cody had apparently dozed off, clinging to his pillow. It was almost cute, really. Drew smiled and climbed into Cody's bed (he'd given him permission, after all). “Alright, you're the boss, Cody...”

Cody rolled over to Drew, placing his hand on Drew’s chest. Drew adjusted himself and Cody accordingly to get comfortable. Somehow, they ended up with Cody's head on his chest, as well. Drew held him in his arms. Cody ran his fingers through Drew's chest hair a little, briefly surfacing from the throes of his exhaustion.

“Thank you, Drew...” He said sleepily, before succumbing to sleep again.

Something warm sparked in Drew. He rubbed his back gently and kissed the top of his head. “You're welcome, Cody...” He said, softly.

Sleep wasn't going to come as easily to Drew that night, however.

There was a nagging thought in the back of his head.

The feeling that somehow, some way, there might be more in this for McIntyre than a means to an end and ego.

And he dreaded that thought.

[poisonsage808]

to miss is to

nsfw, 18+, mdni below the cut

intent is everything.

he came over to surprise you for the sake of spontaneity, overproduced palpitations of the heart and a strong sense of yearning. that is to say that he missed you.

to his indifferent yet mild disappointment, your roommate opened the door and called your name loudly over her shoulder. once upon a time he would’ve been tempted by her, fallen victim to a pattern that killed many a potential match. munch’s eyes drop momentarily to her ass as she walks away from the open door. well he wasn’t a changed man yet, no one could pull a 180 overnight— or even in a year for that matter. wanting to change is one thing, needing to another, and doing it is something else entirely. he wasn’t going to play the fool just to trick everyone, namely himself, that he was.

you slip around the corner and gasp at his presence, the desired reaction sending a toothy smile to cut across his face. elated with his surprise, you crashed into his arms and sent john stumbling back a bit, he had to hold the flowers high so they wouldn’t get crushed.

“what are you doing here, i thought i wouldn’t get to see you this week!”

“do i need an excuse to see my favorite girl?”

his intention was to spend a few lazy hours with you, give his restless mind a break, listen to you vent about your week and talk about his, snack on the unhealthy hoard you kept hidden in your room, hold you close and kiss you senseless a couple times just because. every night over the phone he told you that he wanted nothing more than lay behind you, press affectionate kisses to your head and try to remember what kind of shampoo you used. so that’s exactly what he did.

if his hand wandered to your waist to keep you still during the movie, if they reveled in the wake of goosebumps and traveled along your warm skin, it was merely to continue innocently touching you. he liked to keep a hand on you at all times if possible, and it rarely wasn’t.

“this movie’s boring,” you whispered over your shoulder at him.

john kissed your neck, “that’s ’cause it’s not a movie, sweetheart, it’s a documentary and it’s far from boring.”

you giggled at his innocent pecks, squirming against him again and threatening his sanity. he pinned your back to his front as if it would help.

“don’t care. i’m revoking your movie choice privileges.”

“do that, and i’ll never let you use my coffee press again.”

you gasp in mockery, “you monster.”

grinning, he huffs against your neck making you shrug and shake your head like he’s a bug that’s irritating you. only the fits of giggles that leave you tell him otherwise.

“stop!” you hiss quietly through a smile, “we’re gonna wake up lyra.”

“one, remind me again why that would bother me? she already doesn’t like me, and i’m not particularly fond of her juvenile, sarcastic self either.” john presses an open mouthed kiss to sensitive skin, taking advantage of the way you arch your back by grinding against you subtly, “two,” another, “i don’t know what this we stuff is, you’re the one being loud, and three—“

you gasp when his teeth sink in and his hand slips between your legs, past your underwear and right into your needy cunt.

“—you need to stop moving.” he warns.

but his fingers persist, eliciting louder sound from your pretty lips that he catches with his spare hand. completely trapped against him, he sits up on his elbow and nudges your knees apart with his to get a better angle, plunging two fingers knuckle deep into you. you grab his wrist tightly and for a moment he thinks you’ll pull it away but you whimper against his palm, trying to muffle the noise.

“i wish i could hear you. i love the noises you make for me.” kissing your hair, your cheek, your forehead, john whines into your ear and places a kiss there too, “feel good, baby?”

you nod enthusiastically.

you’re embarrassingly wet, something that fuels him with pride. he can feel you getting closer, he committed the signs to memory since the very first time he brought you to climax. the flutter of your eyes as they shut, the curve of your back as you arch off his chest and lift your hips to meet his fingers, circling in small circles on your clit. it replayed in his mind long after, it follows him to bed some nights, he longs to see it even after he just did, pupils wide with lust as you get your heartbeat under control. he’s dying to see it now.

“beautiful,” he breathes, “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful— god, i missed you— you gonna cum, gorgeous?”

your head dropped on his bicep, nodding again.

it wasn’t enough.

he pulls his hand off your mouth, perfectly timed with a particular stroke that makes you gasp.

“john—!”

your hushed plea is a symphony to his ears. he shushes you gently, teasing your clit to keep you right at the edge. whimpering, you cover your own mouth as you seek the friction you need to push you over.

“keep quiet for me, beautiful. you’re doing so good. wanna feel you.”

he shirks his pants down just enough, barely manages to choke back a moan as he sinks into your cunt. pathetic didn’t scratch the surface on how desperate he was. he liked to tease and taste and take his time with you, not have a frenetic romp on the couch like a teenager.

“see what you do to me?” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist to push you deeper on his cock, “can’t control myself around you.”

you whined at his painfully slow pace, his fingers still gliding around your clit.

“jo— ohmygod— john, please.”

“gonna be quiet?”

“yes, yes, yes.”

a smirk pulled at his lips, his eyes affectionately calling you a liar because he would be a hypocrite if he said so aloud. he was struggling to do the same when your velvety walls closed around his cock as you drew nearer to the edge. he kissed your shoulder, partly a soft apology for torturing you, partly to muffle a moan, and wordlessly gave you what you needed. his middle finger drew a myriad of patterns he knew would push you over the top.

knowing exactly when to cover your mouth again, he stopped a cry of ecstasy from being loud enough to wake your roommate. you arched you back the way he dreamed about and he could practically see you making that gorgeous face you did as you saw stars behind your eyes. the feeling of your cunt spasming and clenching around him nearly sent him over the edge. he drove himself deep but not as fast as he wanted, still conscious of the lewd noises the two of you were already making.

“fuck, i missed this, missed how good you feel,” he grunts low, desperately, too close to begging for something, but he didn’t know what. everything he could ever want was right here. “missed you, baby, need you so bad."

you whine incoherently into his palm, clawing at him someway that returns the sentiment. he pants against your skin, delighted in the little shivers of pleasure that take over your body. you arch into him, inviting him impossibly deeper to hit all the right spots that squeeze him so fucking good his breath catches in his throat. you’re dizzying. he muffles a whine against your shoulder as his hips stutter and fall out of rhythm. shamelessly, he empties himself into you like it's a depraved claim, an attest to his words.

a shaking sigh of relief passes your lips as his heart pounds against your back. somehow, you twist and crane your neck while reaching back to pull his hair and capture his lips. the movement makes him gasp into your mouth, he grabs your waist firmly to keep you still again.

"sweetheart," he scolds, begs, lightly against your lips before conceding and melting into the kiss.

"i missed you too." you said softly.

with no intention to watch the tv, you turn back to it with a dreamy smile and nuzzle back into john. his chin falls on your head and his arms wrap around your stomach, enveloping you affectionately.

"you know she heard us," he teased suddenly.

you swat his arm.

[bm571158]

Free Now LN4 (Part 38)

"Well?!" Flo demanded the second Lando answered the phone. "How did it go?"

"How did what go?" He asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, how did it go with Lottie?"

"How did you know I was there?" He asked, confused.

"Well, mum said you were coming over to go to McLaren so I took a guess, and now you've just told me that you were there. So come on, tell me!" Flo demanded.

"Lottie didn't call you?" He asked.

"No." Flo told him. "I was going to call her, but you're my brother and it's way easier to interrogate you. Now, tell me."

The way Lando sighed into the phone was enough of an answer for Flo to know that it hadn't gone the way that he had expected it to. "Oh...." She mumbled.

"She uh... she's better, she's happy." He sighed, as if that somehow made what he was feeling less painful. He supposed in a way it did. Seeing her happy, knowing that she had the chance to get back to doing what she loved and finally something to look forward to was great, but it hadn't made it any easier walking back out of her house and getting in his car to drive away.

"I'm sorry, Lando." Flo said quietly. "I never should've suggested you go there, I really thought that she'd change her mind and it would all be fine... shit.... Are you alright?"

"No." He admitted. "But I'm about five minutes away from MTC so I haven't really got time to worry about it right now I guess."

"Why don't you come here tonight, rather than going back to Monaco?" Flo suggested. She hated the idea that he was going to fly back to Monaco to sit alone in that apartment and be miserable on his own.

"It's alright." He reassured her. "I need to get back. I've got stuff I need to sort before Zandvoort. I'll be okay it's just... well, it sucks."

"I'm so sorry Lando, I really thought all she needed was to see you again and she'd realise that she's being stupid. What did she say?"

"It's fine Flo, really." Lando brushed her off, he didn't want to get into the details of what had been said with his sister. "I need to go now, I'm at MTC and I'm already running late." It was a lie, he was actually early and still fifteen minutes away but he just wanted to get out of the conversation.

"Okay, call me later?" Flo suggested. "And if you change your mind and want to come and stay then the offer is still open, okay?"

"Okay." He agreed quietly, ending the call. He had no intention of going to Flo's no matter how many times she suggested it. He just wanted to be on his own where he could think and digest what Lottie had said to him.

He was still sat in his car staring into space thinking about it when Oscar had arrived at MTC, tapping on the car window and making Lando jump.

"You alright mate?" Oscar asked him as he scrambled out of the car, realising he'd now only got a couple of minutes before he was supposed to be somewhere. "You looked like you were miles away."

"I uh... yeah. I've got a lot on my mind I guess." Lando mumbled, shutting the car door behind him.

"I know it's none of my business..." Oscar said hesitantly, and Lando looked up at him in surprise. His teammate was quiet, never stuck his nose into anyone else's business, he always had been. "But you and Lottie... there's so many rumours going around online and I haven't seen her for a few races now. Is everything okay?"

Lando hesitated, halfway tempted to just lie to Oscar and tell him it was all fine. He knew Oscar wouldn't believe him, but he was probably too polite to call him out on it and it might put an end to the conversation. Lando knew what Oscar was referring to, the second he'd shown up in Spain without Lottie beside him the rumour mill had well and truly started turning.

"You shouldn't believe what you see on the internet." Lando muttered. If you believed what the gossip sites and TikTok were saying he'd cheated on Lottie, she'd cheated on him, he'd proposed and she'd said no... the variations on the story were endless. Not a single one of them was correct, but obviously the people on the internet weren't worried about how factual it was, it was great reading.

"I don't." Oscar shrugged. "But there's no smoke without fire usually, and you're not telling me nothings going on."

"It's... it's complicated." Lando sighed. "But yeah, we're... we're not together anymore."

"I'm sorry mate." Oscar gave him a sympathetic smile, patting him on the shoulder. "That's rough."

"Ironically, a lot of the problem was all these gossip sites and people with cameras who are now having a great time speculating about what happened." Lando commented dryly.

"Ah.." Oscar gave him a knowing look, after all they'd all been there. "I really am sorry, she seemed like such a nice girl."

"Yeah." Lando sighed. "Me too."

Thankfully, Oscar seemed to have decided that his one brief venture into Lando's personal life was more than enough for the for a lifetime and hadn't brought it up again. Instead he'd gone a little over the top doing everything he could to keep the conversation away from that particular topic, changing the topic of conversation not so subtly any time anyone came remotely close to mentioning it and Lando had never been more grateful.

He'd said goodbye to Oscar and the team as quickly as he could at the end of the day, heading back to the airport to go back to Monaco, but not without checking his phone one more time on the off chance that Lottie might have called him. She hadn't, of course, she'd been very clear with him when he'd left hers that he shouldn't hang around waiting for her to call, but the hope that she might was definitely still there.

It wasn't until he was back in his apartment in Monaco, haphazardly shoving the clothes he needed to take to Zandvoort with him into a suitcase, that he really started to digest what she'd said to him.

None of it was anything that he could even try and argue with, and it was clear that she'd put as much thought into whether or not she could be with him as he had put into trying to persuade her to come back. It wasn't some impulsive decision that she had made as a result of what had happened in Monaco, it was clearly something that had been bubbling away underneath the surface for quite a while and that had just been the final straw.

He couldn't say he blamed her either, for not wanting to live her life in the media spotlight. He hated it too, missed the days of being able to go out and have fun without worrying about people recording him and it ending up on the internet. He didn't have a choice, just had to accept it and get on with it, but Lottie did have a choice. She could get away from it... it just meant that she had to get away from him.

So as much as it broke his heart and he wanted to plead with her to change her mind, he understood her reasoning. It just didn't make it any easier to accept.

He was still mulling it over in his mind as he arrived in Zandvoort. It wasn't his favourite race, the win there last year and his decision to throw out a 'simply lovely' in the heat of the moment after the race had been the beginning of a level of hatred on the internet that had been like nothing he'd ever experienced before. The seemingly innocuous comment that had slipped out of his mouth in the heat of the moment being taken as something it wasn't.

He'd had to delete all his social media off his phone for weeks after that race. The comments and posts were so vile that he hadn't been able to bring himself to even pretend he wasn't bothered. He'd gone back home to his parents to spend some time with them in the hope that might offer a distraction, anything to stop him from thinking about what people were saying.

As he walked back into the paddock in Zandvoort, a year later, the same uneasy feeling settled over him. It was Max's home race, of course everyone was rooting for him to win. It made sense that if hadn't been popular with the home crowd that Lando had won, it made sense that they'd started booing him as he went past on the track this year.

It all made sense, and yet he couldn't quell the horrible feeling of anxiety that came with it.

The pressure was on for this weekend. He had the lead in the championship but a reasonable, but not comfortable, margin. It was effectively his to lose now, and that was a terrifying prospect. Then there was the pressure of returning to a track that he'd absolutely dominated at the previous year, winning by a huge margin, and people were going to expect the same this year. He could hear them now if he didn't win, saying that last year had just been a fluke- luck not talent they'd say.

He'd worked himself up into such a frenzy about it that he was pacing up and down in his drivers room ahead of his media commitments, unable to sit still with all the nervous energy coursing through his body. If he had time he probably would've gone for a run around the track, he needed some kind of distraction and way to clear his head.

The interviews went along the lines he was expecting, and he repeated the answers that he'd become very well rehearsed in giving when it came to the inevitable questions about the championship and his rivalry with Max. They were the diplomatic answers that had been very carefully though out by the McLaren PR team, the ones that had been recycled so often by this point he knew them by heart. He wasn't even sure why journalists kept asking the question really. Had they not figured out that they only ever got the same answer from him?

He'd muddled his way through, tripping over his words a few times when someone had asked him a slightly more unexpected question, but he'd recovered quickly enough that hopefully no one would think anything of it. Certainly no one from the team had said anything. Then before he knew it, the day was over and he was in the car on the way back to the hotel, ready to spend another night alone with his thoughts and absolutely no distractions.

Lottie meanwhile, had been watching the tv coverage as she always did. While no one at the track may have picked up on his rather erratic mood, she spotted within the first two minutes of the interview she was watching that something was wrong. That frown line on his forehead was back, the way he was fidgeting around in front of the camera completely unable to stand still, the way his fingers kept finding their way to his neck to fiddle with his necklace and the way he kept adjusting his cap on his head every time he spoke... it was nothing like the calm and collected interviews she'd watched him give as of late. She just couldn't put her finger on why.

She'd dialled his number before her brain really had the chance to catch up with her actions, and in the split second of indecision that she'd had about whether or not she should quickly hang up he'd then answered and taken away her opportunity to back out. She wasn't sure if their new found agreement to be friends really extended to her calling him up like this to check in on him, but she supposed she was about to find out.

"Lottie?" He sounded puzzled as he answered. "What are you doing? Is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"I was actually calling to ask you that." She told him sheepishly. "Sorry, I shouldn't have called. I don't know what I was thinking really, I just..."

"You just what?" He asked.

"I was just watching your interview on tv and you looked like you could use someone to talk to." She said softly. "Are you okay?"

"Was the interview that bad?" He groaned. "No one here said anything."

"No, it wasn't." Lottie reassured him. "But I know you well enough to know when something is wrong, so tell me."

"It'll be okay, I'm just a bit nervous. It's Max's home crowd, they're never that pleased when someone else does well... I think I just feel a bit funny after all that last year." He mumbled. "It'll be fine, I'll be fine."

"I think the first step would be for you to stop pacing up and down the hotel room." She suggested.

He stopped mid step, looking around in confusion. "How did you..."

"I can't see you." She laughed, because she could just picture the confused look on his face as he tried to work out how she knew. "But I know you well enough to know exactly what you do when you're stressed. I'm not wrong, am I?"

"No." He admitted. "You're not."

"So, stop pacing. Go and take a nice warm shower, order yourself some dinner. Play something online with Max for a bit and then get some sleep. You'll be absolutely fine tomorrow, I know you will. I'll be cheering for you, even if some of the crowd aren't."

"Thank you." He whispered. "I've really missed your pep talks. I wish you were here. It was all so much better when you were here."

"Lando." She sighed into the phone. "Come on, let's not do this again. Especially not when you've got a race to think about."

"I know, I know." He agreed unhappily. "I just miss you. Being friends is great, but it at the same time it's really, really shit."

"I'm sorry Lando. It's the best I can do at the moment." She told him quietly. "I miss you too, but I need to do what's right for me. I'm always here though, if you need me. You can call me and I'll talk some sense into you any time."

"Maybe you could come to Abu Dhabi with Flo?" He suggested. "It'll be the end of the season. You can talk some sense into me in person then."

"You'll be world champion by then, you won't need me to talk some sense into you." She reassured him.

"Please?" He asked again. "It would be so good to have you there." Abu Dhabi was an age away, but it would give him something to look forward to at least.

"Let's see how things go." Lottie suggests, not wanting to commit but also not wanting to upset him by saying no. "I've got to go now, but you'll be fine tomorrow. I promise. Good luck, Lando."

She'd been right of course, she always was. She'd watched on with fond smile at the tv screen as he'd come home to win the race on Sunday. Not quite by the same landslide margin that he had done the year before, but a win was a win worthless. She quickly fired off a message to him to congratulate him and tell him to enjoy the celebrations.

She stared at the tv screen with a wistful smile as she watched him take to the podium, the proud look on his face as the anthem was played. She tried again to remind herself that she was doing the right thing, for both of them, but as she watched on all she could really think about was how much she wished she was there with him.

The problem was, it came and went in waves. One minute she was convincing herself that she was wrong, that she was denying herself a chance at happiness with someone she really, truly loved because she'd let the opinion of a load of strangers on the internet get in her head. The next minute though she would remember how it had made her feel watching her life and appearance get torn to shreds on the internet for other people's entertainment. She would remember what it felt like to not be able to walk down the street without having a dozen cameras pointed at her, the suffocating feeling of not ever being able to go anywhere and just relax.

It was a coin toss- the two things she so desperately wanted seemingly impossible to have at the same time. She could be with the man that she loved, or she could have her privacy and live her life away from the media to  keep her sanity in tact. The two seemed to be mutually exclusive, no matter how hard she had tried to look for a middle ground. So no, as much as she wanted to be there and be the one that he came running to when he got off that podium and was ready to celebrate, she couldn't be that person for him, as much as she wished that she was.

[friendofthecrows]

I miss that brief golden era from like 2012 to 2016 when the online witchcraft community was actually good and full of open minded people looking to learn more and share what they know plus maybe the occasional vampire middle schooler instead of the situation now where it's been taken over by capitalist tiktok transphobes who like to come up with ways to shift to hogwarts via their inherent magical vagina powers and then sell coated quartz to cure cancer instead of seeing doctors.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Hey, I don't normally make my own posts about this, but.

Do not argue with an anti on their own terms.

Don't get me wrong, I get it. You see the hypocrisy. You see the way they take aim at your favorite ships or characters or tropes while enjoying something similar. And you think "if I can point out to them just how hypocritical and idiotic they look right now, everyone will see our argument, they'll see that the anti is wrong and a hypocrite, and then maybe more people will stop harassing the people who like my thing. Maybe the anti will see the light and stop being a hypocrite."

But it will not work. It will not work.

There is an extremely high chance one of two things will occur:

They will double down on their argument, and ignore what you've said. (Ex. They might say "This relationship has an age gap. That's p3dophi1ia. That's dangerous." And you might say "well you ship something with the same age gap. Is it not p3dophi1ia and dangerous when you do it?" And they will just double down and say "This ship is dangerous. The shippers are grasping at straws to make their p3d0 ship normal.")

They will agree with you, but in the worst way possible. (Ex. Someone says "Ew your ship are basically siblings because they're childhood friends and grew up together. 1nc3st apologist." And you might respond "And yet we allow our most popular ship in this fandom to be popular? They grew up together as childhood friends and were inseparable. Why is that not inc3st?" because you think they'll gain a sense of perspective here. But then that person responds "People who ship that popular ship are freaks too then." Maybe they believed that before the convo or maybe they didn't, but the point now is that (while not your intention or fault by any means) some people have gone on to harass shippers of a ship that aren't doing anything wrong. What you think will bring clarity ends up raising tensions between shippers instead)

Do not meet them where they're at on their preconceived notions. You will not make them believe that they are wrong or hypocrites. Do not concede to their heavy assertions of abuse, p3dophi1ia, 1nc3st, etc levied against the thing you like for the sake of arguing that they are a hypocrite, or with intent to make them feel dumb for inadvertently labeling 80% of a fandom with said labels. They will not "see the light". The best thing you can do, if you have to say anything, is double down with "I'm not hurting anyone and it's fiction. I can do whatever I want" or "I don't give a shit what harmless things people like as long as it's tagged and I can filter out what I dislike" (especially if this is your stance). Then block and move on.

Antis, like trolls, thrive on engagement. They want you to argue so they can continue to point at you or lie about you or make you look bad.

It is in your best interest to pick your battles, and to try to sus out the difference between a friendly argument or standing up for yourself versus feeding the trolls. You won't make the right choice every time, all of us are human after all, but I promise you that ignoring and blocking bad faith actors, deleting their hate anons, etc, is not the coward's way out. Sometimes you don't need to fight. Sometimes keeping yourself from platforming bad faith actors and giving them nothing to go on will do the job (because there are more antis that are just small blogs with little power to do anything than you think, the kinds of people whose inflammatory posts will die if no one touches them).

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[whysamwhy123]

Hmmm. What if I attempted to write a piece of Trash and posted it anonymously?

[phoenixkaptain]

One could argue that my obsession with specifically the bloodier sections of Hannibal, the scenes that show humans in excruciating pain, as well as my obsession with Red Dragon’s depiction of Will’s imagination, painful and attractive in the most disgusting way, both paved the way for my becoming obsessed with such properties as Claustrophilia (a novel that honestly reads like Hannibal got his hands on season 1 Will, I’m dead serious, they even mention Silence of the Lambs, like, author knows) and Saw (a property thay pretty much deals exclusively in human suffering)

It could also explain my fascination with the idea inherent within all these properties, that being the idea that a human who is put through immense suffering might then decide to put other humans through the same or worse. Hannibal put a lot of emphasis on Hannibal himself specifically wanting Will to kill with him, to reveal his inner self, so to speak. Red Dragon Will fears killing people immensely for fear that he would be seduced by the bloodlust curdling inside of him. Claustrophilia, I don’t want to spoil if anyone wants to read it, but it shares that same idea. The only character in Saw who survives a Jigsaw trap without either joining a depressing group therapy session or becoming one of Jigsaw’s many (many) protegés is the lady who cut off her arm in, like, movie 6.

It could also explain why I like the idea of obsessive characters. Characters who are obsessed to the point of murder, characters with the internal motivation that if they cannot have something, no one can. The so-called “yandere” character who would rather kill their love than not have them locked in a box in the basement.

(Does Saw fit this frame? I don’t know, man, that one guy’s “trap” was just talking. All he had to do was sit calmly and have a semi-nice chat with another dude. Who sets that trap up without at least a little hint of obsession? And the glass coffin scene, man, I do not even have to go there, we all know. And carrying around the only remaining body part? Even for planting evidence, like, dude. Dude.)

(Does Red Dragon fit this? Yes. Hannibal literally stabbed Will so Will would be permanently physically changed by him. He gives the Dragon of the title Will’s address in hopes that something will happen that will once again change Will’s entire life so he can never forget about Hannibal. The first time Hannibal talks to Clarice in Silence of the Lambs, he asks about Will and, more specifically, Will’s looks. Red Dragon fits this, I cannot emphasize enough how many murderers want to break Will’s back in any way they can, like, it’s practically an epidemic (it’s two people))

What is it that fascinates me so? The blood? The fuel of all life? The changing a person so fundamentally that they can’t move without thinking of the one who changed them? The holding on too tight? The tragedy? The absolutely hilarious AUs that can be written? Yes.

[honorary-fool]

anyone else feeling the friday the 13th luck?

i accidentally sewed a sleeve on upside-down

upside fucking down

[xtodohdohdoyd]

I think the biggest thing that makes gwiles so weird to me is that peter IS RIGHT THERE i get it this is an alternate universe completely different Gwen from the original Gwen but it’s still so weird to me that they’re being romantic while peter is right there like i get it that’s a different Gwen but he loved his Gwen and failed to save her to me it just feels a like they’re just rubbing in, if Peter WASN’T RIGHT THERE I wouldn’t care i still wouldn’t ship it (because i don’t ship anything In spiderverse) but I wouldn’t be as weirded out by it as i am

[halfdeadfriedrice]

it's pride month so i'm promoting lgbtq+ learning at work! what does this mean? someone sent me a suggestion that the training we were promoting had inaccurate descriptions of bi/pan sexuality, I dipped my toe back into the discourse of how those are defined, remembered "it's the same fucking thing" and then changed nothing