#Vi McDonald

[moralwounds]

Josette Maskin from MUNA by Vi McDonald for heartsleeve magazine

[padfootsaphrodite]

Clearly I got a thing for tragic siblings fighting on the opposite sides of war. Sirius and Regulus? Vi and Jinx? This is seriously getting out of hand. Please authors write an Arcane au for Sirius and Reg I need it! Literally on my hands and knees begging someone to write this Becuase I unfortunately can't put my thoughts into words well enough.

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

CaitVi kid: Mooooom, can we get McDonald’s ???

Vi: Do you have McDonald’s money?

CaitVi kid: No, but mommy does

*Car silence*

Vi: They got you there, babe

Caitlyn: *sighs in rich*

Vi: McDonald’s it is, on mommy <3

[pr0cyon-lotor]

What's up with evil twinks being purple coded

[togansweep]

matthew mcdonalds.

[heartsleevemag]

A Journey of Self Discovery: A Conversation with Deadbeat Girl

Photos by Jada Solèy Rodriguez

For many artists, music serves primarily as catharsis, a way to explore your experiences and express what you’ve learned. Deadbeat Girl, also known as Val Olson, is no stranger to this. They released their new catharsis-infused EP What Will It Take? last Friday, crafted over Olson’s coming of age and serving as a soundtrack to it.

As a queer person growing up closeted in South Florida, it makes sense that Deadbeat Girl wrote their debut EP from a personal perspective, using the process of writing, recording, and producing to work through their experiences. “Music is definitely my number one outlet to process my emotions. No better way to articulate the way I feel in certain situations than with both lyrics and sounds to evoke emotion,�� they shared with Heartsleeve. “In South Florida I was extremely repressed, and even when I felt like I was being authentically myself, I hadn’t even reached my full potential because I had no queer people around me to introduce me to different ways of self-expression.” As part of their creative process, Olson moved to New York City, and they shared that it exposed them to a community and allowed them to discover more about themselves. “After moving to a place completely free of judgment with so much artistic influence, I have expanded my artistry in so many ways when it comes to my sound, artist image, physical appearance, and even the way I approach things as a person outside of my music. I write with so much more honesty, artistry, and unapologetic authenticity.”

We asked Deadbeat Girl why they chose What Will It Take? for the title of the EP. Their answer? “I originally saved it in my phone as a tattoo idea. I really resonate with it because I consider myself someone who’s very driven when it comes to things that I care about and at the start of my career that quote felt important. I changed the quote from “what would it take,” to “what will it take,” because that one word change felt more willing and eager. When coming up with the EP title, I then remembered the quote and I felt like it was very true to how I was feeling at the time.”

What Will It Take? opens with “Take Me Home,” which immediately feels open and vulnerable, a preview of the authenticity that Deadbeat Girl strives for. Olson sings about relying on another person for her sense of safety – “When I see you, all I feel is bliss,” they confess – while acknowledging the attachment might not be healthy. It holds a self-awareness that stays present throughout the EP. Olson has cited Girl in Red as one of their influences, and it’s apparent with this kickoff that they’re interested in that same kind of rawness with the audience. The following song, “She Loves Me,” continues this theme, up-front lyricism discussing two sides of a relationship Deadbeat Girl can’t help but compare. The layered guitar melodies blend well with Olson’s vocals, creating a serenity that makes the lyrics feel even more unsettling. The self-awareness is back in full force, Deadbeat Girl finding herself in a relatable situation: to stay, or to go?

“She Loves Me” flows seamlessly into the next track, “These Walls.” The vocals take a backseat to the instruments in this one, a muted echo adding to the despondency felt in the lyrics. “I grew up feeling like I could never be myself,” Olson shared when discussing the track. “I was violently closeted through high school. When I did have a relationship and people found out, I got so much shit for it. It was a nightmare.” The lyrics reflect Olson’s experiences – “Feeling trapped inside these walls, does anyone understand me at all?” she asks, letting the audience feel and understand that hopelessness. The repetition in the chorus only adds to it, making the listener feel trapped in the cycle. But there’s always someone who’s on your side, and Olson explained to Heartsleeve who that was for them.

“At the end of “These Walls,” you hear a voicemail of my guy best friend from home. The song has aged interestingly… the voicemail was originally supposed to be a female voice, but I ended up getting him to do it because I was scared of raising suspicion. I did not know that by the time I would be releasing it that I would be out to the world and to the people around me. Additionally, it’s funny because he is my ex-boyfriend who I dated two years prior to making the song (before I knew I was fully queer). Having him do it was also very true to the situation at the time because, just like I talk about in the message of the song, I was extremely closeted and he pretty much saved me at that point in time. We rekindled our friendship two years after our breakup, I came out to him before I came out to anyone at my school, and he was there for me at the really difficult point in my life that I wrote about in my EP.”

Acknowledging the pain will pass seems to be a theme on the EP, as the next track, “Another Day,” expresses blame and heartache, but is clear that “Life is worth the living.” The lyrical changes in the first and second chorus make the song more hopeful as it progresses, and as the heaviest song on the EP it feels punk-inspired and defiant. The last song, stripped back “More” could not be more different in tone, but holds a similar theme of putting yourself first; it discusses falling in love with someone you can never have. “I’ll let you go, I guess I’m better off alone,” Olson sings, asserting that even though the experience hurts, it’s for the better.

If you’d like to listen to What Will It Take?, you can stream the EP wherever you listen to music. If you’d like to keep up with Deadbeat Girl, you might want to follow them on Instagram, as they’re keeping pretty busy. “I’m celebrating my EP release by booking shows for the first time and by spending time with my close friends and family,” they shared with Heartsleeve. “Up next, I am working hard on developing my next project, promoting my music, booking shows, and honestly anything to put myself out there.” We’re excited to see what Deadbeat Girl has in store, and to witness where their journey of self-discovery leads them next.

[tv-moments]

The Old Man

Season 1, “VI”

Director: Jet Wilkinson

DoP: Sean Porter

[lmaverick123]

Everything is Becoming a Luxury Item

I read a story about how fast food is becoming seen as a luxury item.  That’s right, McDonald’s food is being seen as something of status.  Why?  Because it’s so damn expensive!  That’s right, fast food is becoming so expensive that people see it as a status thing to eat.  I mean, have you seen the Taco Bell menu?!  I know a guy who spent $35 there, just getting five items.  That’s insane! The…

[cynicalclassicist]

Yeh, Elon Musk did eff Twitter up.

Elon is losing his shit!!

[moonglittering]

😍 [[ Let's hear it x3 ]]

✨ @countlessrealities. meme. still accepting!

❝When I was finishing my art history degree—which was a big waste of time, all things considered—I had this little, like, flirtationship-situationship-half-and-half with this older guy that worked at a museum. Let's call him O He was an education coordinator, used to be a professor. Anyway, this guy was fine as fuck. And, he had this deep, pretty, velvet-y voice and I was crazy about this man. Like, he was a really quiet spoken, stoic, wise dude. But, he had smartass tendencies. I appreciate that in potential romantic partners, I can't date someone that isn't witty. We went a lot of time together and it was great. Howevsies...❞

Not like he had any easy-to-read expression before, but Virote seemed a bit uncomfortable now. The story was hitting its unhappy conclusion, obviously. ❝This other guy came into the picture and he was blond and blue-eyed and looked like a Ken doll. O forgot about me real quick. O got very, very distant. And, like, me being who I am, was very willing to ask why. So, I did. He told me to my face that I wasn't as pretty as the Ken doll guy and I didn't act as cutely. Whatever the fuck that means. Anyway. So, like, I just eased out of it. I'm not fighting over dick, fuck outta here. Still... It did stick with me. I understand not being someone's type, but he legit just straight up implied I was ugly. Getting called ugly by your crush is some rough shit, isn't it? So, I call myself beautiful every day even when I know I have a hard time believing it. Like, I do have severe body dysmorphia. But, I have to call myself pretty. No one else will.❞

[imaginedanvrs]

almost doesn't mean never

masterlist

summary: wanda maximoff x reader. '3 times we almost kissed, 1 time we did' trope

warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of angst

word count: 3.6k

You didn’t comment when Wanda repeatedly took fries out of your bag instead of her own, too enthralled in the story she was telling to notice what she was doing. At one point, she even took a sip from your milkshake and you weren’t sure if that was accidentally or on purpose because she had a habit of continuously trying your food whenever you had any. You would always offer to get her her own portion but she would frantically decline only to take several more sips or bites. You never minded. 

  “-and the moment we got back Vis already had dinner made for me,” she told you fondly, missing how your smile dropped as promptly as the anchor in your stomach. 

  “I suppose that was the least he could do,” you said lightly, struggling to hide your disdain for the robot. You would think that after a year of hearing your best friend tell you all about how amazing her boyfriend was that you would get the hang of pretending to like him, or better yet, stop being in love with her. It was never that easy. 

  “It’s not that simple for him,” Wanda defended with a soft chuckle that even the angels in heaven would have a hard time rivalling. “He has no taste buds,” she said simply. “Your cooking is far superior,” she told you, peering out at the car park and giving you the chance to admire her side profile. 

  The casual compliment gave you a surge of pride no matter how many times you had heard it before. It felt good to know you had something to offer the Sokovian that Vision couldn’t match, more so when it was something so important to her. You often replayed the memory of the night she was missing Pietro and dropped by your apartment unannounced to find you practising her favourite dish from her home country. It had been hard tracking down all of the ingredients you needed and it was your fourth time doing so when Wanda got to taste it, insisting you had perfected it. You hadn’t believed her until she started crying. 

  “I could have made something for you tonight,” you pointed out before taking a bite of your burger before Wanda decided to start on that too. 

  “I just needed grease,” she admitted, peering around the deserted McDonald’s car park. You were parked in the far corner and probably looked super dodgy to any strangers that spotted your car lurking in the blind spot, but Wanda liked to people-watch from the comfort of your car that she spent so much time in. She said that your car was comfier than hers. 

  “You need a holiday,” you corrected. 

  “We should take a roadtrip,” she said at once. You immediately loved the idea. 

  “Where do you want to go?” You asked, willing to take her to wherever came to mind. 

  “Anywhere,” she admitted, resting her head back to gaze at you with excitement. “I miss spending time with you,” she told you, not having a single clue how much of your days were taken up by you missing her. You didn’t see each other as much as you used to and even when you did get to hang out it wasn’t for as long as you wished. That was partly how you had developed the ritual of going to fast food car parks for your meals, it was convenient in case Wanda was suddenly pulled away. Her job required her to have one foot in her work life at all times. 

  “Me too,” you said. It was far safer to underplay your feelings.

  The Sokovian shifted to the edge of her seat and took her hand comfortably in yours as she often did. You watched as she twirled her fingers around yours, feeling the warmth of the astonishing magic that lay beneath the surface. Her strength was incredible, everyone knew that, but it was the gentleness she coated it with that you had always been in awe of. 

  “Will this roadtrip be just us?” You asked even though you both knew it wasn’t going to happen. 

  “Of course,” she muttered, letting her fingertips dance across your palm. “Just us and the road,” she laid on with a smile. That smile made you feel things no platonic best friend should. That smile made you love her. With the way it reached her eyes when it was directed at you, it was too tempting not to pretend like her heart didn’t carry that same devotion to you, that her eyes hadn’t glanced down to your lips as she became just as lost in that fantasy as you. The electricity that charged the small space only existed in your world, because for her, it was saved for him. 

  The chiming of her ringtone snapped you both out of your separate thoughts and disconnected your hands just as swiftly. You didn’t have to glance over at her phone to know who it was and you shouldn’t have felt a sting when she opted to answer instead of calling him back later. 

  “Hey, Vis,” she said, voice so tender and yet still striking a blow. 

  You hated that toaster so much.

*

The slight murmur of Wanda reciting the lines of the character’s held your attention far greater than the original could ever hope to. She knew every episode of the sitcom by heart and you were pretty sure you were coming close to being able to say the same. She had been quiet that night, caught up in her own head about the events of her latest mission, so hearing her voice at all was a relief. 

  She had her head resting comfortably on your shoulder so you felt a soft vibration with every mutter of words. You smiled, not daring to move which was easy when she stunned you with her next words. 

  “I want to quit my job.”

  “Oh?” You said casually to her statement you fully supported. You knew she had an incredible role in saving countless lives multiple times a week, but you also weren’t blind to the fact that your best friend didn’t enjoy her job. Unimaginable danger aside, no matter what she did, the public criticised her endlessly and did nothing to ease the gnawing feelings she had that she was a threat to her team and the people she helped. She had come so far in controlling her abilities, but she was only human. 

  “I won’t,” she said. “I just wish I could.”

  “Why don’t you?” You enquired after a pause. Wanda sighed, lifting herself off of your shoulder and bringing her knees up to her chest. 

  “This place keeps me in check,” she admitted. You hated how she talked about herself. 

  “You’re not an animal or a criminal, Wanda. And this team has no possession over you. They can’t keep you here, no one can.” Except someone did. Vision was the only reason Wanda really remained on the team. He had convinced her to. But really, as long as he was an Avenger, Wanda would be too. Yet another reason for your disdain for him. 

  “Yeah,” she sighed, clearly not believing you.

  “Wanda,” you prompted. She looked at you. “It’s your life. You can do whatever you want with it.” She still didn’t seem convinced. “If you want to run away, I can cause a distraction,” you told her, finally earning a smile from the brunette. 

  “I can count on you for anything,” Wanda said simply because it was the one thing she had never doubted. She had doubted her safety as a child. She had doubted Ultron’s intentions. She had doubted her team’s trust in her. She had doubted Vision’s loyalty. But she never doubted you. 

  “Always,” you assured without a beat. “I’ve got your back.” You wished that could have been enough for the brunette to decide that it was you she would run away with, but it was clear that if Wanda ever did opt to flee, she would take him with her and leave you behind. 

  “That might put you in danger one day,” she said sadly, letting her anxieties cloud her judgement. 

  “I don’t care.” You really didn’t. How could you? 

  She smiled at you softly and pulled your forwards slightly to kiss your forehead. She didn’t linger but her lips left a deeper imprint than she would ever know. You had always wondered what her lips would feel like against your skin and it was even better than you had dared dream. 

  When she pulled away and left a minute gap between you, there was a split second where you thought she was about to bring her lips to your own. But that moment passed when Vision casually faded through Wanda’s bedroom wall. She had told him countless times not to do that and you had to use all of your willpower not to scream at him to get out. 

  “My apologies, I didn’t know you had company,” he said but made no effort to turn around. “Good evening, y/n.”

  “Vision,” you replied without looking his way. 

  “You’ve got to knock, Vis,” Wanda chuckled as you subtly placed a couple more inches between you. 

  “Should I come back?” He enquired.

  No. Just keep floating off and never turn back.

  “Yeah,” Wanda smiled warmly at him past you.

  “That’s okay, I should probably head off anyway,” you excused. You had nothing planned and no work the following day so there was no legitimate reason for you to go. But if you stayed you would have just felt like they were both waiting for you to leave. 

  “Really?” You missed her surprise and touch of hurt at your sudden shift, watching on as you stood up from the bed to grab your jacket. 

  “I’ve got some errands to run tomorrow.” Lie. “And it’s getting late.” Not really. 

  “Okay, but I’ll still see you tomorrow, right?” The hopeful edge in her voice was going to stick with you for a while and you knew you were going to be replaying and over analysing it constantly that night. You had a way of hurting yourself with your optimism more than Wanda hurt you with reality. 

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you grinned back at her with sudden ease. You were only getting coffee, but there really was very little that would stop you going. 

 “See you then,” you called as left, purposefully ignoring her mechanical boyfriend. 

*

As far as maid of honours went, you probably weren’t the best. 

  You didn’t carry the enthusiasm that any of the guests at the wedding did and it proved difficult to maintain your fake smile the entire day. You really were happy for her, your best friend was finally getting married to the love of her life, cementing your role as something far less significant. You just didn’t get it, he wasn’t even human. 

  The ceremony was nothing short of gorgeous. It was a small reception, Wanda had been adamant that she wanted to keep it intimate despite Tony trying to throw more and more money at the event and add more guests. But it was Wanda’s day, it was her choice. 

  You had never seen the Sokovian look so happy in her life, or so beautiful. You supposed the two went hand in hand, her joy had always been so warming and infectious that it was impossible not to see the perfection in it. Everything was finally coming together for her, while your world fell apart. 

  You didn’t acknowledge Natasha when she sat down next to you. As much as it pained you to watch, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the tender slow dance the bride and groom swayed along to. She looked like a Disney Princess, her dress wrapped around her with an elegance you were in awe of. 

  “I wasn’t sure you were going to come,” Natasha told you. You still didn’t look away. 

  “I couldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding,” you muttered, barely audible over the gentle music around you.   

  “Still, it can't be easy when you’re in love with her,” the Russian stated. You noticeably stiffened but didn’t bother to deny the fact. Your heart raced at the confirmation that your feelings weren’t a total secret, but you still knew Natasha well enough to be sure she wouldn’t tell anyone else. “No one else knows,” she assured. “Including Wanda.”

  “Maybe this will be what finally makes me move on,” you wished aloud. Natasha didn’t respond, following your gaze to where the dance had come to an end. Most of the guests were beginning to disperse and you planned to do the same soon, you had already stayed longer than you had thought you could be able to. 

  “Carol’s into you.” You were aware of that, just as you were aware the usually confident Captain was working up the courage to ask you out. It would be good for you if you said yes. Carol was great…

  “One lesbian crushing on another that’s in love with her best friend, you guys are hopeless,” Natasha quipped and you gave her your first genuine smile of the evening. 

  “I know, I know,” you admitted, holding your hands up and chuckling with the redhead. “I should go, see you around, Romanoff.” Natasha waved you off and watched you go with an edge of pity that she knew you would hate. As you reached the door, the redhead noticed Wanda frown in your direction and started after you, swaying in her slightly intoxicated state. 

  “Y/n,” she called once you were outside and finally alone. You spun around, feeling a pang of guilt that you had been caught leaving her wedding without saying goodbye. 

  “Hey, sorry. You looked busy and I…” you hadn’t thought of an excuse and you didn’t have the energy to lie to her anyway. “You’re married,” you stated with a shaky exhale that Wanda wouldn’t have missed if she hadn’t had a bottle of champagne to herself. 

  “I am!” She beamed and suddenly threw her arms around you. You hugged her back with a hesitation you had never given her before, uncomfortable and pained by the feeling of her wedding dress beneath her fingertips. You had swallowed your tears all day, but actually feeling how real it all was threatened to be too much. You just wanted to run home and cry into your pillow. 

  “I just,” she sighed heavily with bubbling excitement. “I’m so fucking happy right now,” she giggled and finally pulled away. “I love him so much and…” she seemed at a loss for words. You were too. 

  “I’m really happy for you, Wands,” you told her, ignoring how your throat felt like it was swelling to the size of a balloon. She grinned and hugged you again, holding you flush against her. 

  “Thanks, y/n. I can't wait for it to be your wedding day.” Her words were as rough as a sucker punch to the gut. Would you even ever have one? Surely. Right? 

  She barely pulled away to kiss your cheek, letting the alcohol do as it pleased and numb the feeling of your hands twitching around her waist at the act. “I hope he treats you well,” you whispered. Wanda smiled and rubbed your cheek affectionately with her thumb, as though she was about to use it to pull you closer once more. You would never know if she would or not, because you stepped away. 

  “Goodnight, Wanda,” you smiled, catching one last glance at the ring around her finger that glimmered under the fairy lights strung above you. They were your final reminder that your best friend was getting her happy ever after, because everything had fallen into place. 

  The moment your back was turned, tears streamed freely down your broken features.

*

You reread the offer letter for perhaps the seventh time that hour, determined to find some fault with it that you had missed before. Regrettably, you found nothing. It was the perfect promotion. Better pay, better hours, better benefits. There was an apartment available just a short walk from the office and from what you had seen from the online viewing, you couldn’t get a better deal on such an ideal place to live. There wasn’t a single flaw that was reason enough for you to turn it down, except for the fact it was on the other side of the country. 

  It wasn't that big a deal. People moved away all the time, it was a natural part of advancing with your life. It just meant that you would have to leave your friends behind, that you would have to leave her behind. Again, that wasn’t really a bad thing. Maybe distance was the only thing that was finally going to put an end to your insistent feelings for Wanda, who had been happily married for nearly a year. It could finally cease your reluctant ‘what ifs’.

  “I knew you would be here,” she called a second before you heard the car door slam shut. You pocketed your phone and glanced behind you. 

  Wanda strolled up the cliff side towards you as the wind gently caressed her hair, though it didn’t seem to ease the concern written over her features. “You didn’t answer my texts,” she said as she joined you on the hood of your car and overlooked the vast ocean stretched out beyond the drop just metres ahead of you. 

  You knew what she was implying, you always answered her texts so she immediately suspected something was wrong. “Girl troubles?” She asked. You scoffed, Carol (sweet as she was) was the least of your concerns. You had only seen each other a handful of times and it felt more like you were hooking up than establishing something with a deeper potential. 

  “Not exactly,” you told her. 

  “Then what’s up?” She asked, nudging your shoulder lightly. 

  “I got a job offer,” you shrugged. Wanda’s eyes widened and she began to grin. Her excitement was infectious.

  “That’s what you’re moping about?”

  “It’s in California,” you said at once. Wanda’s smile wavered, but she refused to let it visibly disappear when it didn’t change the fact that you had a significant opportunity ahead of you. 

  “Wow,” was all she could say. “Have you talked to Carol about it?” She asked even though you both knew it didn’t make the least bit of difference to the Captain what part of the country you were in. You could be on the other side of the world and she would still visit you as frequently as she did. It was clear that the Sokovian couldn’t think of anything else to ask, but it still irked you that it was Carol’s opinion she enquired about. 

  “No, we don’t talk about that stuff,” you dismissed. 

  “Really? It’s a big deal.” You could see her frowning in your peripheral and it was no secret that Wanda had been trying to get you and the blonde to be something you couldn’t. 

  “It won’t make a difference to how we hook up,” you huffed, growing agitated at your best friend’s blindness to where your interests truly lied. 

  “I thought you two were getting closer,” she said slowly, noting your shift. 

 “Carol and I aren’t going to become anything more, Wanda,” you told her firmly, but she insisted on pushing you further.

  “Why?” It was as if she wanted to see you snap and finally admit-

  “Because she’s not you!” You exclaimed, feeling a sudden rush come over you as you let all of the lies you had been held back by all those years to finally dissipate. Wanda stared at you, stunned. 

 “How long?” The question was almost carried away by the breeze.

  “Years,” you admitted, no point down playing the truth. It wouldn’t make it any easier. 

  “Y/n-” she started but you recognised her voice and you knew what was coming. 

  “Don’t. Please don’t,” you begged, tears brewing in your eyes as you realised this could be your long awaited breaking point in your friendship. It was inevitable. It had been since the first day you met the brunette. 

  You took in each other’s drastically different emotions, confirming the alternate cross roads you were about to take. But if that was to be the case, you wanted to have at least one small victory to take away. You cupped Wanda’s cheek as she had done to you so many times before, never understanding the burn you had felt at her touch at the time. She understood it then though, because the softness of your hand protected her from the winds that were picking up and made it all the more tempting to follow your lead as you closed the gap between you. 

  Sometimes in romance novels, they say that the first kiss was better than either of the characters had dreamt of, but that wasn’t the case with your kiss with Wanda. Sure, her lips fit perfectly against your own and yes, the faint taste of strawberry could have made you light headed with a giddy glee. But your kiss was filled with remorse and regret. There was a striking pain to the way your lips moved together and an overwhelming sense of anguish that neither of you would be able to rid yourselves of for quite some time. 

  Worst of all, that kiss was your unspoken goodbye.

  “I’m sorry, I just wanted the chance to feel as lucky as he does,” you told her as you pulled away entirely. Wanda didn’t respond, you didn’t expect her to. She had already given you more than you ever thought possible. So you got off of the hood of your car and Wanda willed herself to do the same, standing back solemnly as you got in the vehicle she would never join you in again. She couldn’t bring herself to watch you drive, nor could you glance back at your best friend in your mirror.

My fault for falling in love with a straight girl.

[fvtheo]

@kircket — ¿Innes? Oh. Eso explica mucho. La familiaridad en su hablar, el agarre en su brazo, el nombre equivocado. ¿Le... está confundiendo por alguien más? ¿Es una broma? De cualquier forma, no sabe cómo sentirse. Incómodo tal vez es la palabra más acertada de momento. “Uhm. Theodore.” Musita, deteniendo un poco su andar— el corazón no le da para soltarse de su agarre. “También podrías decirme Theo si así lo prefieres.” Esta vez, el freno es súbito. “Un momento.” No. no, no y no. ¿Qué hacía ella aquí? “Deja de creerme tonto, Eloise.”

"¡Sí, juguemos! Yo siempre quiero jugar contigo, Innes." Se le agarra del brazo con la confianza de una pareja, apoyando por un momento su cabeza en su hombro. "Podemos jugar en la piscina, seguro hay buenos escondites por ahí. ¡O toallas!" @fvtheo

[saints-who-never-existed]

So we all know that Blanky is cool and badass as fuck. That goes without saying. There's a sense, right from the get-go really, that he pretty much always knows what to do in any given situation.

Blanky knows when humour will lift a mood, and when seriousness is required. He knows when to give grace and kindness, and when to dole out much-needed tough-love.

I think it always worth repeating, though, that none of that would be possible without an extremely high degree of empathy and emotional intelligence. To me, that's Blanky's real greatest strength. It's the root of what makes him so cool and badass as fuck so I want to ramble more about some examples of it.

-

In Episode Two, for instance, we have his nighttime conversation with Crozier where Blanky matches the captain's energy beat for beat.

He laughs with him first about the erstwhile reindeer and while he remains optimistic throughout the rest of the scene, he's also honest, both acknowledging Crozier's various fears and drilling down to the root of them immediately - "Aye. You trusted Ross and you trusted Parry."

When Crozier remarks on his perceptiveness, Blanky's incredibly tactful and kind too - a casual "No, it's just that I know you." when in reality Crozier's been doing a horseshit job of concealing his thoughts and they're visible from fuckin' space.

-

In the following episode, I think the response Blanky gives to Little's fearful teatime diatribe is great.

In contrast to Crozier's vague and even condescending reply which only seems to rile him up further, Blanky shuts Little down clearly and firmly but without being unkind. I think a simple, factual response was the right tactic for the lawful-good sort of guy Little is.

I think his accurate judgement of Little's character is further confirmed later in the episode vis a vis the clandestine rescue party. He's right when he says "Lieutenant Little will never agree to it."

-

Another example that's very special to me personally is in Episode Five and it's not Blanky delivering his warning after Crozier punches Fitzjames, or even when he lightens the mood with jokes and toasts before having his own fuckin' leg sawn off (although I could talk about those forever).

It's actually a wee almost throwaway line Blanky utters to McDonald right before he heads up on deck:

"He's ill with it now..."

Crozier's behaved abhorrently to everyone around him up until that point. He's been vicious and manipulative, cruel and thoughtless. Threatening to throw Silna out into the elements and actually following through with Blanky, ordering him out into weather he knows full well is so cold that it literally just killed a man.

It would be so easy for Blanky to decide that that was final straw, that he was done with Crozier's bullshit. But no! Even then, even then, Blanky seems to be able to take a step back to some degree. To recognise Crozier's alcoholism for what it is - a debilitating illness and not some great moral failing.

It used to confuse me to some degree why Blanky would greet Crozier so warmly at Carnivale (other than the fact that the absolute mad-lad is drunk off his ass). Like, that's the man who made the decision that lead to you nearly dying and losing a limb - how can you just hug him as if none of that happened? But the more I thought about that earlier line, the more clearly it spoke of the incredible depth of understanding and feeling Blanky has for Crozier and the more beautiful that relationship became. He can forgive him so quickly because he can see so clearly the true person under the difficult surface.

-

We talk so much about Blanky remaining outside of the horror story the rest of the characters come to inhabit, refusing to dignify it with his presence. And, again, I just think an important part of the reason he's able to do so is that he sees the world around him and the people within in it for exactly what it is and for exactly who they are. It's just a lot harder to jump-scare a man who sees the mask you're wearing from a mile away, and understands precisely why you've donned it.

[coryosbaby]

Ultraviolence // E.L + C.M.

(Pt. 5)

Fandom: “Scream Vi”

Pairing: Stepbrother! Ethan Landry x fem! Reader, Chad Meeks Martin x fem! Reader, Ethan Landry x Chad Meeks Martin

Warning: stepcest (stepbrother x stepsister), some angst and shit parents // nsfw ! Threesome . Spit kink . Degradation & praise . Cum swallowing . Oral (m & f receiving) . Fingering (f receiving), choking, overstimulation — dom! Chad, dom! Ethan, sub! Reader

A/N: If this isn’t necessarily the pt 5 people were hoping for I deeply apologize. This is also more plot than porn. But I have a shit ton of ideas for part 6 that I’m rly excited to post 🤭🤭 Ty for reading 🙌🏻

Ethan’s cock is hot and heavy inside you as he fucks your needy cunt with an aching rage. Your nails are digging into his back, small whimpers slipping from your lips as his teeth bite down on your jugular. His hips cant into you at an incredible pace.

It’s been two days. Maybe three, you haven’t really been counting with how much Ethan has been shoving his cock into any hole on your body that exposes itself to him. He’s taking his anger directed towards his dad out onto you, while Chad watches.

Sure, Chad likes watching you get fucked; there’s no doubt about that. But the way Ethan has been touching you for this long is almost starting to concern him. But he knows he can get this way sometimes. Sometimes Ethan gets the need to blow off steam. After high school the once nerdy guy Chad used to be friends with is now a mean sex fiend.

Not that the other can talk, though. Because he’s been going along with it too, cock flush in his hand while he towers over your face and let’s it rub along the expanse of your kiss bitten lips, his abdomen clenched tight with the ache to release. His apartment is hot today, the summer heat reaching a high of ninety eight degrees. It’s a wonder none of you have passed out yet, even with the a/c running. Sweat drips down Ethan’s neck as he pounds you. Your eyes look up at the both of them, pupils dilated and streaming tears. Ethan’s thumbs move to the corners of your mouth and roughly pull them apart to expose the whites of your teeth.

“Good fucking girl. Yeah, open that mouth wide.” Hes demanding, and you can’t say no as you move your mouth open wider. He grins, his spit landing on your tongue and making your eyes roll back. “You fucking slut. This is all your good for, isn’t it? Being used as a little sex doll. That’s your place now, right? Can’t go anywhere, staying in this fucking bed being our fucking sex slave.”

You nod, fucked out and desperate; you’ve came more times than you can count since Ethan had decided to crash on Chad’s couch and you had showed up. Of course you took breaks, but… that wasn’t too far off from them just doing it so you wouldn’t faint or die from dehydration.

“You wanna taste my cum, bunny?” Chad’s voice growls out. He’s close, hands rubbing against his tip in just the right spot. Your tongue peeks out as you close your eyes and wait for his seed to hit you. And when it does, salty and bitter against your taste buds, Ethan lets out a loud animalistic groan and dumps his third load of the day into you. Your worn, body feeling incredibly hot and used. You’re too fucked out for another orgasm.

“Are you done?” You ask quietly, as Ethan pulls out of your abused cunt. He nods, fingers coming up to run across your jaw and tickle the tips of your ears. Chad moves to lay beside the both of you, his hands going to wrap around your wrist as a form of comfort.

“Yeah, baby. We’re done. C’mere, you have to rest.”

“Can we get McDonald’s after this?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Chad cuts in. “Anything you want.”

“I don’t know,” Ethan jokes. “She has her belly full now, doesn’t she?”

Chad grimaces. “Shut up, dude. That’s gross.”

“You literally swallowed my cum two days ago.”

“Yeah, because you held my head down —“

“You would’ve swallowed it anyway!”

A smile plasters on your face at their antics, and your eyes begin to close as the two boys wrap their arms around you.

Ethan watches the outline of your jaw, your soft neck littered with hickeys and bruises. And then to Chad, who’s hands gently graze his as they rest on your tummy. He smiles.

It’s almost perfect, this way. Chad has a job, Ethan’s working on getting one, and you… you’re here, and you’re perfect and you’re beautiful and—

Ethan is so mad.

It’s almost perfect— but there’s a problem. Of course there is, why fucking wouldn’t there be?

You still live in your parent’s house, after all.

Oh, you could move if you could. You could live with Chad, with Ethan, make things the way you want them to— but your mother is demanding. Threatening to cut off your college tuition money if you left was the part that had made you stay. Even after they accused Ethan of being a perverted freak of a person, after saying you were ‘too innocent’ and ‘too young’ to know what he was doing (you and Ethan are only two years apart).

So after they had left for an emergency business venture you knew where you could go. They told you not to, but it’s not like they’d figure it out. And being locked in your room was really starting to bore you.

Ethan’s blood has been boiling since the night you got caught. He wishes he could give you the money for your college, wishes he could give you the entire fucking world. But that doesn’t work on Chad’s salary and probably won’t work on the one Ethan’s about to have.

He wants you and Chad to only be with him.

That may sound selfish, but Ethan isn’t known for being necessarily generous. He wants the entire world to be cut off from the both of you, wants the only thing you both see to be him. Ethan could tear the world apart limb from limb just to have you and Chad forever.

It’s really starting to fuck with him.

Ethan is starting to scare you a little bit.

It’s not the sex— well, it is a little bit, but you enjoy it. He’s just been so.. out of it, recently.

Not in the sense of ‘he’s losing feelings’ or anything like that. It’s when he gets this look in his eyes. Sometimes when he thinks no else is looking, when those doe eyed things go dark and he seems like he’s thinking of doing something he shouldn’t. You don’t know what it is, exactly. But he looks so far off— as if he’s somewhere else. And he’s become more violent; in sex, in the way he holds you down and then holds Chad down the same way. It’s confusing.

And it’s also making you a bit nervous.

Chad doesn’t seem any different, at least from what you can tell. He’s still his same soft self— outside of sex, of course. He takes Ethan’s behavior in stride (and with a little bit of prep). But you can tell that he notices, too.

“I just think that you should drop out.”

Ethan’s voice is blaring with a twinge of annoyance, as he drives you back to your house. You told him he shouldn’t, that it’s too risky. But he won’t listen. You also know that when he says ‘drop out’ he actually means ‘leave our parents and be with me.’

You roll your eyes, hands going down to adjust your pink sundress.

“I can’t just drop out, Ethan. I have a career I’m set on.”

“We can make it work—“

“Don’t be stupid.” You mutter. His hands tap against the steering wheel impatiently, face turned up into one of anger. His blue shirt clings to him tightly, muscles are prominent.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” He snaps.

“Don���t make dumb suggestions.”

After that snide comment he shoves you into the house and bends you over the kitchen counter, regardless of your protests, like he did the first time. And then he left you with cum dripping all down your legs, while you waited for your parents to get home from their trip.

When they did you decided to not eat dinner that night.

Your mom has been on the fence since your secret had been revealed to the Landry household. Ethan — your stepbrother — has been fucking you for months.

You still remember the sound of Wayne’s voice screaming at the both of you:

“How could you do this?! After everything we’ve done for the both of you?!”

“You’re a disappointment to me, Ethan. I want you out!”

And then after, when Ethan had left, the words spewed at you.

“I can’t believe you would be such a whore.”

“How could you do this to our family? To me?!”

“You’re never seeing him again.”

Yeah, right.

You sigh, plopping down onto your bed. It’s almost time for you to go to college, the summer ending.

What a wild story you could tell if you had an essay due about your summer.

Your parents are downstairs, now. Doing— you don’t really know what they’re doing. You don’t come down from your room anymore.

A text dings on your phone. You smile.

E🫶🏻: you okay?

me: mhm

You pause. You bite your lip as you assemble to next message.

me: I miss u :)

A moment for him to reply.

E🫶🏻: I miss you too, bunny

E🫶🏻: chad said he misses you too

me: I miss u both >:(

me: we’ll see each other more when I’m away at college tho <3

E🫶🏻 : maybe I have a way to make us be with each other all the time :)

me: oh yeah lover boy? And what would that be

E🫶🏻: you’ll see.

Your brows furrow. A surprise, maybe? A gift? Maybe a new way for you to sneak out…

You don’t know. But your eyes are beginning to become heavy and sleepy; you tell him and Chad both good night and begin to sleep.

Your dreams have become nightmares, more or less. Images of blood and gore, a hand holding on a little too tight — it’s been the same for the past few nights. Your family, slaughtered.

A loud crash makes your eyelids flutter open.

You think you’ve only been asleep a few hours. Your hello kitty clock reads 2:37 a.m in giant bold letters, and your heart beats harshly against your chest at the sudden sound. Furrowing your brows, but being cautious, you grab the pink pocket knife you kept beside your bed. It isn’t much, but it’s something, at least. Creeping closer to the door you can hear that the noise has stopped— but that doesn’t calm you. You think of waking up your parents but you don’t want to make them any more mad than they already are.

You open your door. No one is outside your room, it seems. The sound must’ve come from downstairs. Creeping down the wooden steps you go into the living room and see that it’s empty.

Except for the window.

The one near the couch is wide open, and you can see that a house plant beside it got knocked over and broke all to pieces. You gulp, hands gripping the knife tighter. Your dreams have made you extremely paranoid, and if there really is an intruder, you won’t go down without a fight.

Another crash— from the kitchen this time, but not as loud as before. It was more of just.. commotion. You prepare yourself, breath heavy. You make your way to the doorway, prepared to strike and stab and hit….

Someone grabs you.

The knife clatters to the ground. So much for protecting yourself! Your immediate thought is to scream, but no words come out and a hand is covering your mouth. When they whirl you around and begin laughing your brows furrow and hot tears well up from the stress.

….It’s fucking Ethan.

He’s standing there, a shit eating grin on his face, wearing a muscle tee and jeans.

You sneer, pushing him harshly as you wipe your eyes.

“You fucking asshole!” you whisper yell. “You scared the fuck out of me! What the hell is wrong with you?”

He chuckles. “Sorry, sweetness. It’s just so funny to see the look on your face.”

You sniffle, crossing your arms and willing yourself not to cry anymore. ��‘S not funny.”

Ethan’s smile drops, his hands reaching out wrap you into a hug. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, promise.”

He doesn’t seem that sorry, but you drop the subject.

“You literally broke in, Ethan. What if mom and dad wake up? You’ll be in so much trouble, i swear— they’ll call the fucking police on you—”

Your words stop when he turns his back to you, stalks into the kitchen, and begins rummaging through the house’s well renowned junk drawer.

“Calm down, baby. I just needed to get my watch. I forgot it before I moved… aha! There it is!”

He excitedly turns around and shows you the black and red band. He slips it around his wrist. You roll your eyes, and scoff.

“You broke into the house so you could take a watch?”

He gives you a mischievous look. He moves closer to you and his lips graze yours. You can’t help but smile.

“Maybe I came to take something else with me, too.”

You bite your lip, but your eyes go to the stairs.

“We can’t do that here. We’ll get caught.”

“Suit yourself, then,” Ethan quips. He sighs dramatically. “I guess I’ll just be on my way then..”

“No!” Your immediate to keep him here. To keep him with you. You aren’t the same without his company.

He smiles, lips grazing your neck. His teeth scrape against it and you admire the sting. “There’s my good girl.”

You kiss him, harsh. He tastes fresh and sweet. His hands find your waist and he pushes you against the kitchen counter. You whine, your hands reaching for the bulge in his pants— but your wrist hits his pocket and you feel something inside of it. You reach in, playful. But when you pull it out, it’s the pocket knife you dropped earlier. He must’ve picked it up when you weren’t looking.

“Why do you need my knife?” You ask, as his lips peck your chin and jawline. He looks down, at it in your hands, white teeth shining as he smiles.

“Maybe I like to have a part of you with me wherever I go.”

It’s endearing. But this feeling settles in your stomach— something you can’t quite place. However, you slide the blade back into his pocket and begin to kiss him again. His fingers are right there, just about to brush over your clit.

And out of the corner of your eye, you see the upstairs light flicker on.

You panic, lips breaking away from Ethan’s as you hear footsteps. You’ve lived long enough in the house to know who’s it is— it’s your mother’s. Your eyes widen.

“Hide!”

Ethan mouths the words oh shit before running into the living room. You pray he finds a decent hiding spot. Your mom comes down the stairs, in her robe and with messy hair. She seems like she’s just woken up.

“Is there someone else down here with you?” She says, confused.

You shake your head, nervously biting your thumbnail.

“No, mom. No one is down here. It’s just me.”

“Huh.”

She looks around and she walks into the living room. You follow her in fear, and when you catch Ethan’s sneakers underneath the window curtain you almost fucking scream in frustration. Your mother is too busy looking at her broken plant and the opened window for her to notice.

“Oh my god! Did someone break in?” She exclaims. Your heart beats rapidly.

“Uhm— no!” You say, exasperated and lying.

You try your best to think up a good fake story. “I slept-walked again, i think. I’ve been meaning to tell you… it’s been a while but I think it’s starting up again.”

You haven’t slept-walked since you were twelve. Your mom sighs, annoyed.

“Shit. I’ll call the doctor in the morning, then. We’ll see if he can find anything for it. Because if it’s to the point where you’re breaking things and opening windows..”

“—That’s not necessary, mom, really.”

“I’m calling them, y/n.” She states. She looks you up and down for a moment. If you don’t know any better you think a look of disgust is on her face. “For once in your life, please make yourself useful and clean this up.”

Your head hangs down, and you bite your lower lip to keep from snapping at her. “Yes ma’am.”

When she goes back up stairs, Ethan comes out of his hiding spot. You breathe out a sigh of relief, but Ethan’s fists are clenched.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that.” He says.

You shrug, threading your fingers through his. His curls are sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed. He’s absolutely precious, even when he’s angry.

“Doesn’t matter, E. Forget about it.”

He narrows his eyes at the stairs, as if she was standing there and he could see her. Your thoughts go back to the knife and you get that feeling again. But your lips are back on his in an instant and it seems that Ethan quickly forgets his rage. His hand rests on the back of your head as he tries to drag you to the couch. But you shake your head and giggle.

“Not here. I’m not getting caught fucking you again.”

“Technically, we weren’t fucking.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Still.”

So you drag him up the stairs. It’s scary, because your parents are also up there, but at least you’re both better concealed. He fucks you raw on the bed and chokes you with his incredibly toned arms. And then he lays with you and you both smoke a joint out the window so it doesn’t smell.

But even then, and even after he left, your thoughts still linger on the knife he had taken with him.

© 2023 bratty-lxndry444 🤏🏻 all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!

[tytarax]

This is a huge headcanon and OOC n the continued chaos of the reader and Daishinkan! ❤

Daishinkan and Zeno keep up all the chaos and trolling that the reader adheres to, because before Goku and also the Reader came along, life was probably boring.

Do you remember those episodes with the opening match where the wolves from universe 9 fought against universe 7? Imagine the reader is sitting with the members of the 7th universe on that flying platform, the fights maybe are interesting, but it's boring to watch and the reader has forgotten why they(?) came here. And the reader starts flirting with Daishinkan during the fights? - "Grand Priest, what about a date after this performance?" The reader says it so relaxed that everyone is horrified, Beerus shaking, Vis giggling

All of Priest's attention (or half the attention) is on the battle, but he looks at the reader with a smirk: - oh, that would be interesting. Any suggestions on where to go?

Both Zenos who are totally not mad at the man and participate in this clowning around - "McDonald's!" - "Burger King!"

Reader: "After the date!"

Gohan at one point, not withstanding: "perfect date, Mr. Priest sitting next to you while you work on your coursework"

reader: oh

I can totally see Daishinkan and Zeno having a blast with the reader causing all this mayhem. Life probably did get pretty boring before they showed up! And the idea of the reader flirting with Daishinkan during the matches is hilarious. Imagine the shock on everyone’s faces—Beerus losing his mind, and Whis just laughing it off.

Daishinkan’s smirk and his playful response about where to go on a date are perfect. And the Zenos chiming in with their fast food suggestions is the cherry on top! 🍔🍟

Thanks 4 sharing! This made my day

[mxqdii]

Could you do one where Nick gets sick and reader helps him?Or could u also do one where Nick helps reader through a panic attack or vis versa

sick - nick sturniolo

pairings: nick sturniolo x bsf reader

summary: nick gets sick and his best friend has to take care of him

warning(s): none!

not proofread

i'm sitting on my bed, bored, when suddenly i get a text from my best friend nick.

hey can you come over?

yeah sure! whats up?

i'm sick as fuck and matt and chris are out of town

oh shit okay. im omw we can watch a movie and eat snacks

yes pls. see u soon

i put my phone down, getting in my car and driving to the store, picking up a shit load of snacks, then heading to mcdonalds and grabbing our usual orders

i finally, pull up to nicks house, using my spare key to unlock the door

i hear nick yell from the couch

"holy shit you scared me, you still have that key?" he says

"yes i do! i brought a lot of snacks by the way" i say

he pats me down to sit next to him on the couch and i do, placing all the snacks on the table in front of us

"what should we watch?" he asks

"hmm.. what about.." i let my mind wander for a sec, eventually thinking of the perfect movie

"oo! 10 things i hate about you!" i say and he nods, putting the movie on

we eat our snacks and watch the movie for around 45 minutes, until i reach in the snack bag grabbing cough medicine and pouring some

"drink this" i say, handing it to nick

"oh fuck no" he says

"drink it!" i say again

"ugh.. fine.." he groans, downing the medicine

"that was fucking disgusting." he says, immediately grabbing water

i laugh and we continue watching the movie, eventually falling asleep on the couch.

A/N: sorry if this was bad! im lowk bad at writing for nick 😭

TAGLIST:

@opheliaofficial07 @stargirlv0id @strniolo @annaisabookworm @theperson-nextdoor @its-jennarose @thetriplets3 @gottamakemyhatersmad @luvsturniolo