#because he hasn’t realised that no he doesn’t in fact he should run for the hills while he can

[secriden]

Keen has such “neglected and overlooked middle child” energy. I feel kind of bad for him but I also can tell he’s supposed to be the one to create problems for our murder brother duo. But poor baby just wants a little bit of attention from Khun Mae. 🥺

(also really wondering why he isn’t considered “brother” the way Fadel and Bison are to each other)

[beenbaanbuun]

Hey!! I just read your most recent Addams!MATZ fic and the angst is DELICIOUS. Your talent for writing is incredible and your creativity really shines through with each and every fic. The fluff, angst, and even the smut are so wonderfully well done, you're one of my favorite ATEEZ writers.

If you're up to it, and feel free to ignore this, but I'd love to see a part two to the angst Addams!MATZ where seonghwa talks to hongjoong and hongjoong comes to apologize. If that's not something you see yourself continuing, I completely understand!

Make sure to keep yourself healthy and hydrated and get plenty of rest.

thank you for the compliments!!! they mean the world to me. i’m glad that my passion for writing and my love for these boys shines through in my work. here is a continuation <333

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seonghwa doesn’t even bother to knock before barging into his husbands office. yes, he thinks anger is an ugly emotion, but that doesn’t mean he is immune to it. in fact, it’s the only thing running through him as he steps through the doorway and slams the heavy slab of oak behind him. hongjoong hasn’t shown you the courtesy of being polite; why should seonghwa show his husband the same.

upon hearing the bang of the door, the overworked businessman turns around, pen still in hand and glasses low on his nose. he was half expecting to see your feisty little self again, but instead he’s met with the sight of his husband. if it weren’t for the sneer that twisted up his husbands pretty face, he might’ve explained the same thing he’d tried explaining to you. something tells him that seonghwa wouldn’t have appreciated being told ‘i’m busy, i’ll come and talk to you when i’m finished designing these pieces.’

“what’s wr—” hongjoong doesn’t even get to finish before seonghwa cuts him off with a scoff and a petty roll of the eyes. it’s hardly like him to wear his emotions on his sleeve, and yet hongjoong can see each one of them clear as day. hurt, anger, disappointment; emotions that he never wants anyone he cares about to feel. his heart sinks just a touch as he realises who those emotions are aimed towards.

“you are a piece of work, hongjoong,” seonghwa spits, sounding beautiful even with venom laced through his voice. hongjoong knows that’s the last thing he should be thinking right now, but he can hardly help admiring his husband, even when he is seething. it takes the man a second or two to knock himself free of the love-induced haze and allow the words to sink in. “do you think you’re in the right for yelling at our darling? do you think that just because you’re overworking yourself it gives you the right to make her cry?”

hongjoong’s world comes to a standstill. the clock on the wall stops ticking, the heart in his chest stops beating, and most importantly, for the first time in weeks, the brain in his head stops thinking. finally, finally, it’s no longer filled with a myriad of complex ideas, each one overlapping yet individual in its own right. finally he just has one singular thought. it’s just a shame it isn’t a good one.

he made you cry…

hongjoong made you cry…

it repeats in his head, over and over like a mantra. it taunts him, the idea that he’d upset you so much feeling like nails on a chalkboard. his hairs stand on end and his breath catches in his throat. lord below, what has he done.

“where is she?” his voice is weak, pathetic, nothing like he usually sounds. seonghwa has to admit that his resolve takes a hit when he hears it leave his loves mouth. he reminds himself to remain strong; your pain is his priority right now. “seonghwa, please—”

“take a guess, hongjoong,” seonghwa replies, once again cutting his husband off. this time it wasn’t out of anger but of fear that he might cave if he has to listen to hongjoong’s heartbroken pleas for much longer. the pained look on his face is enough to send seonghwa’s heart into overdrive; he doesn’t need any more distractions from the real reason he’s here. “where might you usually find her when she isn’t with one of us?”

the rug in front of the fire—jongho.

hongjoong almost feels ashamed that he even had to ask; he should’ve realised the second you silently left his office that you’d gone to seek comfort in your favourite onikuma. realistically, though, he should’ve realised a lot of things. it hurts him to know that he was too focused on work to do so.

he stands, and he’s grateful when seonghwa shifts to the side to allow him past, even going as far as to re-open the heavy door for him. hongjoong isn’t quite sure he deserves the soft hand that’s placed against his back as he walks through the doorway, but he appreciates it nonetheless. now isn’t the time to be wondering how he ended up with such a beautiful individual as a soulmate, but he finds himself lingering on that thought as the two of them begin their journey to the living room. it’s hard not to when the warmth of seonghwa’s touch never once leaves him.

in fact, it’s only when the two of them step through the archway that seonghwa gives a small shove to the bottom of hongjoong’s spine before going to reclaim his spot on the couch. with a single nod in your direction, seonghwa redirects his husband’s attention and hongjoong lets his gaze flicker to the floor.

the first thing he’s met with is a glare from the mutt he’d been so reluctant to allow into his abode. normally, the beast would be scolded for being so bold as to openly disrespect his master, but he let it slide this time. he can hardly tell him not to give him the attitude he so clearly deserves. in fact, this is light compared to what he would’ve expected from the overprotective creature.

at least hongjoong knows he’ll make a wonderful guard dog…

“dove,” hongjoong coos softly as he dips down to your level. he can’t remember the last time he’d sat on the floor, but this feels necessary. the closeness is something that he finds himself craving, wanting nothing more than to have you next to him again. he won’t lie and claim that the sole purpose of this is to comfort you; he needs it too, to stave off the guilt that has begun to eat him alive. “can you look at me?”

there’s a certain element of pain in his voice that tells you he’s being sincere. that he truly does feel remorse for how he treated you. whether or not it’s seonghwa that forced it upon him, you don’t particularly care. all you want is to feel hongjoong’s warmth again, so you listen. you turn your head until your watery eyes meet his.

“there she is,” he gives you a humourless chuckle, a sad smile twisting the corners of his mouth up and the corners of his eyebrows down. the warmth of his hand as he places it on your cheek is comforting; more so than any words he could say. you just need him close. he seems to realise that as he turns to the werewolf, dangerously aware of the way his ears twitch angrily above his head. “may i take her, yeosang? i promise i’ll be gentle with her.”

“you weren’t gentle with her earlier,” yeosang growls, behaving more akin to what hongjoong expects from him. it almost has hongjoong flinching back in fear of yet another bite-shaped bruise on his hand.

“that’s true, but i would like i make it up to her,” hongjoong is soft as he speaks, less so for the sake of the angry mutt, and more for the sake of you. he doesn’t want you to see any more anger from him. “besides i really think it should be my little dove’s decision as to whether i get to hold her, don’t you?” yeosang snarls, huffing in dismay as he unravels his arms from you and lets hongjoong swoop you into his. manipulation never really has been the man’s style, but he has to admit that it works wonders with the mutt. use you as leverage, and yeosang will behave like a fully trained lapdog. he’s just like them in that respect; so desperate to make you happy that they’d risk everything, dignity included.

it’s not hard for you to let yourself be passed around like some kind of teddy bear as a pose to a real, living human. you’re tired from crying, not to mention desperate for the confirmation that you’re still hongjoong’s good girl. in fact, as hongjoong tugs you into his grasp like a rag doll, you find yourself leaning into his grasp. it’s so soft compared to his sharp words and cutting tone earlier, and his familiar scent of spices fills your nostrils. it dizzies you, but hongjoong is there to catch you…

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear as he pulls you up to straddle his crossed legs, “my darling dove, will you forgive me?”

you don’t answer. you don’t find it necessary to. the way you see it there’s nothing to forgive; you annoyed him, he yelled at you. it’s give and take, and despite your emotions getting the better of you, you refuse to place the blame on hongjoong. not all of it, at least.

“only if you forgive me too,” is the answer you finally settle on, mumbling it into his neck. he squirms a little at the tickling sensation, and in your own mind, you find yourself thinking he’s cute.

“you have nothing to forgive, my dove,” he answers, “but if it will make you forgive me, then yes; i forgive you…”

[artist-issues]

I’m bored and I really enjoy your opinions on Disney, so I thought you might have something interesting to say to get my brain ticking. I came across a post on Frozen and I was like, “Ah, a perfect starting place for dropping you an ask.” I’ve never really been that bothered by Frozen and I don’t know what it is that I’m just not fond about. Maybe it’s that I dislike the characters? Maybe it’s that they didn’t really have any established rules for the way magic worked in that universe and thus had anything they wanted happening? Maybe it’s the twist villain? I don’t know, it’s probably just the characters that they tried to make so cool and girlboss!

Elsa is made out to be this awesome protagonist that is never in the wrong and that grates me. She has flaws, but the film doesn’t act like they’re flaws. She runs away out of fear and shame for not being able to control her powers, but then two seconds later she’s singing “Let It Go” and making giant ice castles and bringing snowmen to life?! And “Let It Go” is super annoying for the fact that Elsa starts off worried and upset (fair enough, she’s just ran away from her home, her kingdom, her sister whom she hasn’t seen in years, she lost control of her powers) but then immediately turns round and is like, “Actually, it’s not my fault and I’m fine as I am and I don’t need any of those responsibilities!” Which would be fine, but she also finishes the film with the same attitude!

Anna, too! Naive and optimistic and perhaps a little too trusting, she never realises that even if Han hadn’t turned out evil, Elsa had every right to be worried over their marriage. She never realises that it’s partly her fault for revealing Elsa’s powers (and she definitely doesn’t apologise). There’s a lot she doesn’t realise, and the only lesson she takes away from it all is that Christoff loves her instead of Han.

Oh my days, I’ve just realised how ridiculously long this has gotten, super sorry! Have a lovely day!

Let’s do this! For fun!

1. They don't need to establish exhaustive rules for how magic works in their world.

Red Riding Hood doesn't explain how the Big Bad Wolf can talk-it just explains that he can. Cinderella doesn't explain how Fairy Godmothers work, or why the spell should only last until midnight—it just explains that she casts one, and it does only last until midnight. Beauty & the Beast does not explain how, after The Beast has died, the "breaking of the curse" could bring him back to life. After Belle confesses her love, he should just go from dead beast to dead human, for all the explanation they give.

Beauty & the Beast also famously refuses to explain (explicitly) why all of the household were cursed, along with the castle and the Prince. But what it does explain is, "there's a curse, it was put in place because of a defect in the Prince's character, and there's a time limit on it's ability to be removed, which can only happen if the defect in his character is overcome."

The whole point of having magic in the story is just as a tool...to create a plot. You don't have to explain everything; you just have to explain what will affect the characters. So, Frozen says, very plainly in the beginning: "you can either be born with magical powers or cursed with them in this world, and trolls are the experts on how magical powers work. The way Elsa's specific magical powers work is, they're beautiful, but powerful, and they're tied to her emotions. Therefore, if her negative emotions control her, her negative emotions control those powers. Also, if you're struck with magical powers in the head, the effects can be removed with memory alteration. If you're struck with magical powers in the heart, the effects can only be removed by an act of True Love.

Also, here's an explanation of what counts as 'True Love." They actually do way more explaining than the average fairy tale. And they set you up really nicely to receive that explanation by having the opening scene be a song that describes Ice Magic as “beautiful/powerful/dangerous/cold/ice has a magic can't be controlled.” Etc.

If you were wondering what limits there are on Elsa's powers, and whether or not she can just make anything out of ice, and how it's possible for her to bring inanimate snow to life

—well, you're focusing on the wrong things for this kind of story.

It's not that important for a fairy tale like this one. In a superhero story, limitations on powers would be important. Because the point of a superhero story is, "how am I going to take selfless responsibility for what I'm able to do?" And if you don't know the boundaries on "what I'm able to do," then you can't communicate that point clearly. That's why we need to know that Superman can see through just about everything, but not lead. That's why you need to know that Elastigirl can't stretch in the cold. You can't know how to take responsibility for your abilities if you don't know what they are and are not.

But Elsa? The point of Elsa having powers is not as a metaphor for her unique skills. That's what it would be in a superhero movie.

Like, in superhero movies, Spidey's ability to stick to walls is supposed to be a reference to like, your ability to...l don't know, draw really well. How is Spidey going to use his ability to stick to walls for the good of others = how are you going to use your ability to draw for the good of others, because it's something special and unique to you, you have something to offer, are you going to use it selflessly, etc.

But for Elsa, that's not what it's about. Her powers are just a metaphor for how what's going on inside of her effects everyone around her, relationally. And it's still relatable. But not in a "skills" way. Just like all of us non-superpowered people: "if you let fear control you, you'll hurt everyone around you. But if you let love cast out fear, you'll love and be loved."

That's what's so good about this movie. When you look at it like that, you realize the powers aren’t the point.

Elsa isolates because she thinks that'll keep her from hurting everyone (fear controls her) but actually, by isolating, she's still hurting everyone-nobody in the kingdom gets to see their beloved ruler, and her sister is hurt, relationally, and feels unloved and shut-out, enough to trust the first scoundrel she meets-etc. See how the powers just make the story interesting, but they're not the point of the story? If Elsa's powers were replaced by "frantic outbursts of human temper" the story could be told in a lot of the same ways. But that's a post for another time.

So I don't think you disliked it because of the powers not being "established." "Whatever they wanted to have happen" did not happen, in the story. They laid out the rules that were relevant—“if fear controls you, it'll lead to great danger/but an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart."—and then they followed those rules in an interesting and consistent way.

2. The "twist" villain worked perfectly for the story.

A good villain is supposed to be the opposite of whatever your story's message is. Frozen's is, "Self-Sacrificial Love Casts Out Fear." Elsa is afraid she'll hurt everyone around her, and afraid that makes her unloveable-so she's a control freak over her circumstances. Anna is also afraid she's unloveable-simply because she's shut out and unknown-so she's always trying to control who she keeps in her life. Hans is both "unknown" and "controlling." He's "unknown" in two ways—1, nobody sees him in the shadows of his brothers in his own kingdom, and 2, nobody in Arendelle "knows" his true nature, especially not Anna. But the difference is, where our heroes don't like being unknown, Hans does, and uses it to his advantage, because he's also "controlling." But unlike our heroes, who learn that "control" is not the way to love, Hans is willing to do anything to stay in control. Which is, always, rooted in fear, too. Hans is just afraid he'll never get a throne. So. You see that he foils the two main characters perfectly.

But the main point of Hans is that he's not self-sacrificial, he's self-serving, which is the opposite of what the story claims "True Love" is.

Why's the "twist" part important? Because he uses the main characters' fears as a weapon to serve himself, and he couldn't have done that, for these two particular characters, by being anything but a liar. Anna is afraid she won't ever be loved, so he pretends to love her to get something for himself. Elsa is afraid she'll hurt everyone, so Hans pretends to be protecting everyone from her. And honestly, that's another core of the movie-love that is self-sacrificial, true love, can't be separated from truth. Anna can't really "truly love" Elsa in a way that HELPS Elsa feel loved if she doesn't know Elsa's flaws. Elsa can't "truly love" Anna if she's refusing to know Anna by always shutting her out. And Hans comes along and doesn't let himself be "truly known." Perfect.

So, the movie says "Self-Sacrificial Love Casts Out Fear" and Hans, the villain, says, "Self-Service Uses Fear As a Weapon."

So I don't think you disliked the "twist" villain. Because it wasn't just an empty "shock-jock, look how edgy we are, to make the Prince the bad guy" move. It was the right move, for this story and these characters.

3. I think your definition of "so cool" and "girlboss" might be different from what l understand those terms to mean, because none of the characters fit those descriptions.

Anna (as we understand her throughout the story) is introduced like this:

And she's constantly dropping stuff and getting into awkward social situations-and she basically makes zero correct decisions, for the entire adventure. Tries to fight wolves like a girlboss-and instead accidentally knocks her guide out of the sleigh and has to be thrown to safety while she ruins his livelihood. Tries to climb a cliff with zero experience-looks ridiculous and falls. Tries to talk her sister into lifting a curse and insists that she knows best because her sister would never hurt her-gets crippled, because her sister absolutely does hurt her, and totally fails. Tries to marry a handsome prince-really bad judgement of character, totally duped, basically would've died without help from the weakest and most mentally-confused character in the movie, Olaf. The only "girlboss" moment you could argue she had was punching Hans in the face at the end of the movie, and I would argue that that one moment, in the face of all her failures and humiliation throughout the movie, and in the face of him as a vile villain? That moment is okay.

Also, the whole way they pace that moment is still in-character for Anna. It's still like she's not doing the "dignified" thing. She delivers her little one liner, "the only frozen heart around here is you," and then turns around to walk away with her nose in the air, like she's

"above it all." Which frames the moment where she turns around and punches him like a joke. It frames that moment like it's a satisfying, but still "not decorous, not dignified," thing to do. It would've been "cool" and poorly received if Anna, the character who's always jumping into doing the emotional, awkward thing, had suddenly become the bigger person and risen above her hurt in that moment.

So instead, she punches him. And whatever. He deserved it, blah blah blah. The point is, even that moment isn’t supposed to be strictly “cool” or “girlboss.” It’s just supposed to be “in-character funny.”

See, usually a "girlboss" character knows exactly what the best thing to do is in a situation, and does it well. Or, she gets knocked down, but consistently gets back up and hits harder. Anna does not do any of those things. She keeps trying when she fails, yeah-but it's not because of an inner strength, it's because of an inner weakness. She keeps pushing because she's desperate, and insecure, not because she's awesome and never-say-die. Eventually, after Elsa strikes her and Hans betrays her, Anna does give up. She tells the snowman "we won't (come back.)" after Elsa strikes her. She tells Olaf she doesn't know what love is. It's not until she learns that lesson that anything she tries to do works—and she gives herself up to do it. And that's finally a moment of strength from her, not weakness. As for "cool"-gimme a break.

There's nothing "cool" about Anna. Anna's not good at anything except, at the very end, self-sacrificially standing in front of a sword and getting one punch in on a villain who's already disarmed, defeated and probably slightly concussed anyway. She's not supposed to be "cool" or "girlboss." She's supposed to be "Desperate to Love and Be Loved." And that's what she is, perfectly. "Desperate" is not a characteristic that fits the definition "girlboss" or "cool."

But maybe you just meant "Elsa is so cool and a girlboss." Okay, well, again, depends on what you mean by that. If you mean "having superpowers are cool" okay, well, are they? Is that what the movie is telling you? Because powers basically ruin all of Elsa's childhood and life until the last 3 minutes of the movie. You could be like "come on, she can make snow and ice monsters, glitter gowns, and an entire palace just by dancing. They totally tried to make her 'cool." That's like saying Simba's ability to eat bugs and belch and fight with Nala is "cool." She does all those things at her "Character in the WRONG" moment, in the story, just like Simba living in the Hakuna Matata jungle. Therefore the movie is not trying to tell you that Elsa is cool, it's trying to tell you that Elsa is wrong, but you can understand why she's wrong. You can understand why she feels triumphant for a moment-and then the movie shows you that triumph is misplaced.

I mean, she's taken out by her own falling chandelier. Every time she's confronted with a problem, she runs away. When she gets into "battles of wits," she says the wrong thing, or the shy, shut-down thing, not a girlboss one-liner that shuts the other person up. Elsa's not cool either. She doesn't have the answers, she doesn't save the day-she gets saved.

Both of these characters are desperate, open wounds-—they're needy and they're in the wrong, each in their own way, for the majority of the movie. They're weak, and they have to learn to find strength in love, for most of their story. There's nothing "girlboss" or "cool" about them.

I think maybe what some people make the mistake of is noticing the Frozen mania, and the fact that the two main characters are girls and one of them has superpowers and they other doesn't get with a Prince, and then they get the impression, from that, that the characters are "cool girlbosses." But like...that's like saying Dory from the first Finding Hemo movie is a girlboss. She's so totally not. She's a wreck. A funny, appealing, sometimes-relatable-human wreck. And a good character, but the hype doesn't change who she is, as a character. And who she is, like Anna and Elsa, is just a good character.

4. Elsa does not finish Let it Go with an "I'm Fine As I Am" attitude, and she doesn't finish the movie that way, either.

She finishes "Let it Go" with an "I'm fine up here, isolated from everyone," attitude. And then the movie very quickly proves her wrong by having Anna show up and reveal to her that no, actually, she is not fine up there, because the person she cares about most can still find her and be hurt by her, and the whole kingdom is still reeling from the problems she ran away from.

At the end of the movie the only thing I can guess you got the impression that she's "fine as she is" from was the fact that she's using her powers again.

But like. Elsa's whole problem was never her powers. She wasn't supposed to learn to stop using them. She was supposed to learn to stop living in fear. Instead, she was supposed to lean on love-love that sacrifices for her, flaws and dangerousness and all-and stop trying to control her image and what everyone knows about her.

Because in trying to control what everyone knows about her, she was controlling whether or not they loved her or treated her like a monster. And even running away and singing Let It Go was still an effort to control everything-by not being around people who could treat her like a monster or be hurt by her. Instead, accepting that she might hurt people because she can't always control everything, and trusting that they'll still love and forgive her, was her character arc.

She lives by faith in sacrificial love by the end, not by fear. That's the arc. She does that perfectly.

It was never, "I'm fine as I am." Because the point was never "there's* something wrong with me." It was, "I don't need to fear a lack of control, because true love covers what I can't control." That's all.

4. Anna does communicate to the audience that she's sorry and willing to understand the reasons behind Elsa's secrets.

The lesson Anna takes away from all of this is not "which guy loves me." It's "what is love?" And you know she's learned that because she demonstrates it. If Anna had died-frozen forever-or been cut down by Hans' sword, you realize that Elsa would never have been able to repay that gesture, right? But Anna still made that choice.

Even though it meant Elsa would never repay her. And the point is — excuse me, I know this is long enough, but I feel like you're missing out on something wonderful here—

Anna could have left Elsa to be killed and ridden off into the sunset with Kristoff.

They make it very clear that that is her goal when she stumbles onto the ice, free from the room Hans trapped her in. Elsa is no longer her motivation. She isn't looking for Elsa. She's not trying to get that love she's looked for, from Elsa, in that moment. She's trying to get it from Kristoff, not just for her emotional need-but for the "breaking of the curse" that's killing her in the moment. That whole scene where she realizes he loves her-truly loves her, because he fits the description Olaf gives-is in there to communicate to the audience that he could save her. He could give her what she needs.

And the reason that's important is that it proves that this is character development: when she chooses not to go to Kristoff, and to go to Elsa instead.

Because it's her, choosing to turn away from the person who could give her something (even if it is "love") and to turn toward the person who can't give her something (Elsa.) Who has repeatedly failed to give her something, for their entire lives.

Anna at the beginning of the movie would've run to Kristoff. That was the whole point of Hans, when it comes to Anna-he represents someone who can fulfill a need in Anna. But when Anna turns away from Kristoff and runs to save Elsa instead, Anna is demonstrating what she's learned —that love isn't about her own needs. It's putting someone else's needs before yours. She stands between Hans and Elsa, with the full expectation that she's not going to get anything out of it, not even a guarantee of E/sa's love in return. And her own needs will NOT get met if she puts Elsa's first.

And that's what she does. Whereas, at the beginning of the film, Anna would not have done that. Because that's not what she thinks love is. She hasn’t realized that yet.

She thinks love means closeness. And that does come with love. But that's not love. Love is, like Olaf says, putting someone else's needs before yours. But the whole movie, Anna is not working to put Elsa's needs before her own. She's working to change Elsa's mind, now that she knows the truth, so that she and Elsa can be "close again." She's climbing that mountain and arguing with Elsa, because she thinks that all that stood in their way before was this secret that's been uncovered. And sure, Anna has always been willing to “be there for” Elsa, but you have to see that Anna wanted that to come with Elsa being there for her, in return.

Which would be nice. But it's not true love. True love is being there for someone even when they refuse to be there for you. Because that's putting their needs before yours.

Thanks for the super long ask! That was fun! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as l enjoyed writing-I think sometimes we judge Frozen by the mania that followed, not the good quality that actually caused the mania, and deserved the mania, though. Anyway 😂

Guards! Take them away! Back to the theater with you! Watch the movie again!

[laura1633]

hii this is not a prompt but can i request a smutty drabble of charles riding maxs cock ty!

Hi Anon, of course ♥️ Hopefully this okay

Hmm I wasn't sure what to write so decided to go with a little post race hook up (I am ignoring the fact the race was in Bahrain and the laws etc there!)

“Charles what the…?!” Max almost squeals as Charles brackets him up against the hotel room door. The Dutchman hasn’t even had time to drop his bag to the side before Charles is tugging his jeans and pants down. 

“Missed you” Charles smirks from where he has placed himself down on his knees. 

“Missed me or missed my dick?” Max laughs because Charles is already running his tongue up and down Max’s cock like a man possessed. 

“Both” Charles says in all seriousness as he wraps his lips around the head and sinks down as far as he can until he’s spluttering and choking and dripping saliva from the sides of his mouth. 

Max throws his head back and knocks it against the door. The loud bang doesn’t put Charles off his rhythm though. Max doubts anything could put the Monegasque off his rhythm once he gets started. And really Max should be used to being greeted like this - the finer details change from time to time but their post race hotel hook ups pretty much always involve Max getting his dick out before he’s even really has a chance to say hello. 

“I did not have chance to shower Charles” Max moans as he curls his hands into the Monegasque’s hair. Max may not have broken too much of a sweat in the race but he’s still not exactly fresh. 

“Good” Charles looks up and gives Max a wicked grin, “I prefer you like this” The Monegasque goes back to what he was doing, licking and sucking and occasionally giving Max a near heart attack as his teeth run ever so lightly against the Dutchman’s cock.  He’s never actually dared to let his teeth graze before but honestly sometimes Charles looks a little feral when he’s down on his knees and Max thinks a quick nip against his most sensitive part is not truly out of the question. 

“I already fingered myself” Charles proclaims happily as he decides Max is now hard enough and leaps to his feet, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and dragging him to the bed. Max goes awkwardly, his pants still around his ankles and almost tripping him up as he shuffles rather inelegantly. He lets Charles push him down on to the bed and instantly has a rather animated looking Monegasque clambering on top of him. 

“Are you okay… I mean the race?” Max manages to mumble out as Charles gets himself lined up,

“Fucking frustrating” Charles frowns, clearly not happy at being reminded, “May as well not have had any stupid fucking brakes” 

“Yeah” Max breathes raggedly as Charles sinks right down on his cock in one movement and immediately starts riding him like the world is going to end or something, “You do not look like you have brakes now” Max teases as Charles splays his hands on the Dutchman’s chest so he can ride harder, faster. 

“Oh there are no brakes now” Charles grins as he grips his hands more firmly into the fleshy part of Max’s chest and squeezes as tight as he can as he continues to move up and down the Dutchman’s cock. 

They’re a good while into it when Max realises he still has his cap on. There is something rather hot about being almost fully dressed whilst your naked boyfriend clambers all over you. Charles is panting, his chest heaving up and down, his face red from exertion and mouth hung slack. He wasn’t lying about there being no brakes though, he’s still riding Max at breakneck speed. So hard that the creak of the bed and the clatter of the headboard are echoing around the room along with two very desperate sets of moans. 

Max comes first (just like in the race - a joke he daren’t use anymore because last time Charles looked less than impressed) but Charles comes harder, the Monegasque groaning loudly as he covers Max in his come before collapsing on top of the sticky mess he has made. 

Max tries to steady his breathing as he wraps his arms around Charles’ body and kisses him lightly on the head, “Hi Charles” the Dutchman mumbles amusedly as he finally gets a second to say hello.

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

Kill me slowly, Baby you know I don’t fucking mind

warnings: vent fic about illness, mildly graphic depictions/imagery of physical and mental illness

tim drake centric

title: life waster by corpse (don’t look at me ok im embarrassed)

word count: 912

beta read and edited by the lovely @vespertilionis

Do not cry. Do not cry.

That’s all Tim can tell himself as he stiffly walks back to his car. He knows how this is going to go, he’s not too sure why he got his hopes up. He feels like an idiot.

Finally, in the safety of his car, he actually looks down at the referrals he has been given. One for a CT scan and the other for an overabundance of blood tests. He didn’t ask for either. All he wanted was a referral to see an ENT, but the doctor hadn’t even looked at him before she started talking over him and suggesting other ideas.

There’s a few things we can do before you see an ENT. It’s been a year since he started feeling like this. All he wanted was to see a specialist, someone who would know what was wrong.

It’s probably not what you think it is. Probably?

You’re crazy, nothing is wrong with you.

Nothing is wrong.

Nothingiswrongnothingiswrongnothingiswrong

He throws the referrals across the car before slamming his fist into the steering wheel and letting out the loudest scream he could.

It peters off into a sob when he realises he can’t hear anything. Well, anything but a high ringing. He sits there hyperventilating in his own version of silence.

He calls the CT place while driving, desperately trying to sound like he hasn’t been crying. He almost breaks down when the receptionist mentions he had the same test done around this time last year.

As he pulls into the driveway of the manor, he takes a moment to calm down. Firstly, because he doesn’t want to talk about it, and secondly, because he feels guilty for being upset. At least the doctor was running tests. Sure, she didn’t really listen to him and suggested tests for allergies and anemia, which he is sure he didn’t have, but she still decided to do tests. Other people have been sick for years and don’t have doctors listen to them, so he should be grateful.

Maybe she doesn’t think he’s crazy.

He tries not to think about the fact that if the CT scan comes back and shows his sinuses blocked, the doctor might put him on his fourth round of antibiotics. Even after the other three rounds have completely tanked his immune system. Or that if the blood tests show he is anemic, she might focus on that instead of the actual problem. Like the horrible constant congestion that makes him feel like his brain is being compressed into a liquid that’s going to explode out of his ears and nose. Or that if he does have the disease he thinks he does, he might lose his hearing. He really doesn’t want to think about that part.

When he enters the manor, he heads straight for the cave. He’s hoping for the perfectly healthy distraction of vigilantism. His hopes are immediately crushed when Bruce turns to him and asks him how the appointment went.

“Oh, uh, it went ok. We’re redoing some of the tests we did last year,” he says awkwardly, wishing for once Bruce would notice he didn’t want to talk about it. Once again, his wishes go unheard as the older man just looks concerned.

“You don’t seem too happy about that.”

No shit, man, no clue how you got the title of world’s greatest detective.

He tries to push away the resurfacing anger by laughing, but it comes out wrong.

“Yeah well, last time the results didn’t really get us anywhere. So, I was kinda hoping she would try something else.” Another laugh. Bruce nods and turns away. Either he finally got the hint or doesn’t know where to go with Tim’s response.

Relieved that the conversation is finally over, he starts heading to the computer when he hears Jason scoff.

“Ya know what I think you need? Some concrete to harden you up.”

Harden you up. Fucking whiny baby.

Harden you up. Ungrateful child.

Harden you up. Nothings wrong with you Tim, you’re out of your mind.

Tim stops in his tracks and turns his head slowly to face the older boy.

“What?” he says coldly, causing Jason to raise his hands in surrender.

“Hey! I was just joking with you.” he laughs, and Tim’s eye twitches.

“No, explain it to me, so I can understand how it was supposed to be funny.” He can feel the anger rising again. Jason lowers his arms, looking guilty for his ‘joke’, but Tim couldn’t care less.

“I just meant that you complain a lot. It’s kinda miserable.” He answers, sounding defeated, but again Tim couldn’t care less.

“Why do you think that is Jason? Do you think I’m complaining because it’s fun?” “No—“ “No! I’m not! I am fucking miserable! I’m exhausted and dizzy and I feel like my brain is rotting in my skull! And I’m sick of people not listening to me and thinking I’m fucking CRAZY!”

His throat hurts from screaming. He’s hyperventilating again, but he can’t hear it over the sound of the ringing again. It hurts. He shakes his head to try and clear it, but it just makes the world spin around him. A hand reaches out to steady him but he pushes it away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” God, his voice is always so much louder when his ears are blocked.

He stumbles up the stairs, knowing he’s probably stomping, but he can’t hear that either.

[trashnotfound]

Time for my usual run down of the season , didn’t do it how I usually do because honestly I had not very nice things to say about the first 5 episodes 💀

Dr s2 pt2 spoielrs ahead

- jay? Jay!?! JAY!? Hello what was THAT- IT Was a COP out honestly, all the hype and build up for a shit ass reveal and a boring fight between him and nya, only for him to LEAVE 5 minutes later. I wanted more of him being evil, it was so rushed and just usless. Like they could have just made nya find him or something, he didn’t have to be evil, Because they did literally NOTHING with it. I know they probably realise they need a whole season to build up to jay but maybe if they didn’t focus on Lloyd all the time they could??

-It was nice to see some old characters again, like tox and Mr pale! Finally some old rep 😭 I just wish they we’re actually utilised properly. I didn’t want just cameos I wanted actual character arcs or something. I know I’m asking for a lot and “should be greatful to even get to see them” but s4 showed all the old elemental master so well, and they all at least got a little moment to shine even if just for one fight, then they added to that with season 9. It just felt like a *here’s your old characters now shut up*

-People may think I’m being too picky with this, but the random panning to Geo and other characters with jayas fight TOOK ME OUT!? Like we just had this super emotional revels and now jay and nya gotta fight, oh okay we’re just gonna show a purple goblin mid scene ?? Like it just took me out the moment and was also so random. Like he doesn’t even know nya that well, why are we seeing his reaction more then the ninjas. Same for the audience. Like they don’t know these people WHY ARE THEY HERE

- wyldfyre and Roby! What can’t I say about them. Saved the season for me honestly. I like how wyldfyre actually got a break this season and got to be goofy and silly. We really saw more of her personality shine! Her being the comic relief was really refreshing to see. Plus her and Roby instantly hitting it off, just like Kailor did was such a cute nod to them. The fact that their just so sweet and full of puppy love, they couldn’t be more different then eachother but that isn’t mentioned ONCE (I like that) wyldfyre takes on all of Roby words, and him roaring for her to show he loves her too. I just adore how they take on eachother characteristics and embrace how their different. Plus the blatant flirting 😭🤚🏻 made giggle

- ERIN LOW KEY TURNING EVIL HELLO!? I was kinda expecting someone to turn on the ninja, honestly shocked it was Erin. Him and sora fighting broke my heart :( I can 100% understand his point of view, it’s been over a year since he met Lloyd and he’s still no closer to his parents. It does suck and I wish it was prioritised too, but Lloyd can’t help that all the danger they have been facing is world ending. Someone just needs to give him and hug. But I also think he needs to learn he can’t have everything in life. He wanted to be a ninja and he got that! I know he lots his parents but so did sora. I just think he needs a good hug and some support

- cole and zane we so pushed aside this season. I know they aren’t the main focus anymore, but for cole especially just doesn’t feel like a character anymore? He hasn’t since 13 honestly. I don’t think it helps that I’m still getting used to Andrew voicing him ( no fault of his own the writers won’t give him enough material to work with) so it genuinely feels like a new character to me. Plus his lack of interest in the ninja. Zane could have been used so much this season to analyse their opponents and help train sora, but they just cast him aside. Like hello he had an entire episode DEDICATED TO HIM BEING A DETECTIVE? Why didn’t they let him help Erin figure out the murders ( yes it was to do those flashbacks of his parents but that didn’t really add much)

- Kai coming back was so underwhelming, I honestly would have liked if they waited till next season to do that. We didn’t get a proper reunion of him and wyldfyre or nya :(

- ep 11-20 did not feel like a part 2, they felt like an entire different season. The separate parts really don’t merge well on my opinion. We’re following 2 completely different story lines and fighting 2 different villains. Their isn’t really an over arching storyline aside from Ras and his gang. Who don’t even turn out to be the main villains 💀 this part just felt like a re do of seaosn 4 but a lot more boring. I really couldn’t get into the story until at least episode 5. It was just way to repetitive with no real danger being shown.

I think that’s everything I wanna talk about for now, there’s others but they more small critiques or details I liked. Not my favourite season ( you can probably tell lol) definitely the worst of all 4 parts so far in my opinion. But I’m hoping season 3 is better since we hopefully have an actual evil ninja ( Erin) and jaya to look forward too

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 24 - Let's get you cleaned up

Not gonna lie, the minimal in that title feels like a lie by now, even though there's always a happy end. Content warning for this is murder. And unhealthy coping mechanism. Which include murder. And co-dependency.

Suguru is getting desperate. He couldn’t remember how many doors he’s pushed open so far, but every time he is met with nothing behind it, his heart shatters a bit more in his chest.

Shoko had assured him that they hadn’t found Satoru, so logically that must mean he is still running around somewhere, but then again they hadn’t found Riko’s body either and Suguru knows for a fact she is dead.

And there had been so much blood at the top of the stairs where he left Satoru behind.

Suguru tries to not think about it too hard but he’s running out of places to check out and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he can’t find Satoru. If he never comes back.

The thought makes him falter briefly, but he needs to push on. He needs to find Satoru and he needs to bring him back home. Suguru can’t stop now. Satoru isn’t home yet and so Suguru can’t stop.

He walks down a few steps, briefly hesitating in front of the door before him before he pushes that open as well.

Instantly he’s met with the sound of people clapping and his stomach churns when he realises that he finally has found the right one.

Suguru steps inside the room, dimly noticing all the people in white scattered around and then they part, making way for Satoru.

Satoru, who is bloodied head to toe and who is carrying Riko’s body.

Suguru feels like crying.

“You’re late, Suguru. Actually, I guess you got here fast. After all there are several Star Religious Groups in the city.”

It’s Satoru speaking, Suguru knows that because he sees his mouth move but—

“Satoru, is that you? What happened?” Suguru breathes out, even though the blood on Satoru’s clothes, the blood he found at the top of the stairs and the look in Satoru’s eyes tell a pretty clear story.

“I see you already saw Shoko,” Satoru says, not even reacting to the fact that Suguru has asked him something and Suguru is still too perplexed by the sight in front of him to do anything but nod.

If only the clapping would stop so he could fucking think for a moment.

“Yeah, she was able to heal me, I’m feeling fine again. But that doesn’t change anything here, does it?” he whispers, his eyes now fixed on Riko’s hand that just slipped out from under the sheet.

Suguru fights the urge to step close, to tuck it back in as if that would make things better and he feels sick to his stomach when he remembers the happy look on her face moments before she died.

Moments before she was killed.

“I screwed up pretty bad, you’re not the one at fault,” Satoru says and Suguru doesn’t know what to say to that at all.

“Let’s head back,” he says after a moment and a distant part of him wonders just how Satoru can even hear him over all this clapping in the room.

Suguru fights the urge to yell at everyone to shut the fuck up but the fact that Satoru hasn’t moved yet keeps his attention pretty captured. Suguru is about to ask what’s going on when Satoru speaks again and his voice makes a shudder run down Suguru’s back.

He doesn’t sound like the boy Suguru knows at all.

“Suguru should we—kill these guys? The way I am right now, I doubt I’d feel anything,” Satoru asks him and Suguru freezes.

His first instinct is to say yes. He feels ashamed for it, even as he struggles to push the answer down and instead concentrates on what he has to say. What he’s supposed to say.

“No, there’s no point. It looks like there are only common believers here. The masterminds who know about our world have probably fled already. And unlike with the bounty they won’t be able to talk their way out of this. The organisation had problems to begin with. It’ll be dissolved soon enough.”

Satoru is walking past him while Suguru tries to justify the continued existence of everyone in this room and they just. Won’t. Stop. Clapping.

“No point, huh. Does there really need to be any point to it?” Satoru asks him and Suguru opens his mouth to give him the right answer, to tell him that there absolutely must be a point to it, that it’s important that there is but the clapping won’t stop and he still sees Riko falling to the ground, the pool of blood where Satoru was supposed to be and the clapping—

It almost feels as if something snaps in Suguru and when he opens his mouth what comes out is “No. There doesn’t need to be a point to it.”

Suguru doesn’t know how it happens so fast; the words have barely left his mouth when the entire room lights up in an eerie purple and then there’s only silence left.

Everyone in that room is dead. Just like that.

Suguru takes in the sight in front of him for a moment longer before he turns around to Satoru.

“That is new,” he says, because what else is there to say. Nothing makes sense anymore, except the grin that Satoru suddenly gives him.

“I figured out how to do Red.”

“That wasn’t red,” Suguru says as he steps closer to Satoru and reaches out to tuck Riko’s arm back under the sheet like he wanted to do all this time.

“And then I figured out how to smash Red and Blue together,” Satoru excitedly goes on, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet as if he didn’t just murder a room full of people at a single word from Suguru.

“Thus making purple,” Suguru nods as if he understands what’s going on with Satoru’s powers at all.

“Hollow Purple,” Satoru corrects him, his eyes still bright and manic and Suguru probably should feel bad but he’s so relieved that there’s silence around him, that Satoru is alive and well and right in front of him, and he really couldn’t care less about all these people.

They were celebrating the pointless death of a girl who only wanted to live. Who never did anything wrong, whose only mistake it was to be born.

He doesn’t feel a tinge of remorse at all.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Suguru says as he reaches up to cup Satoru’s cheek in his hand. “You’re all bloodied up.”

“But I figured it out, Suguru. Reverse cursed technique! I did it! I was dead but then I did it!”

Suguru flinches at the reminder of how close he got to losing Satoru and that only makes him double down on the fact that everyone in this room deserved to die. Maybe there had been a point to it.

Maybe revenge was a good enough point sometimes.

“That’s great,” Suguru says, not taking his hand back yet. “Can we still go back to the school? You clearly didn’t figure out how to reverse curse the blood away,” he gently jokes, suddenly tired beyond belief and Satoru nods.

“Yes. Let’s go home, Suguru,” he agrees and leads the way out of the room, Riko’s body still cradled in his arms.

~*~*~

“You’re both Special Grades now,” Yaga sighs out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We need you to go on separate missions, so we can handle more curses.”

“No.”

Suguru’s voice doesn’t leave room for an argument but it looks as if Yaga is going to try anyway. Satoru is standing close to Suguru, their shoulders pressed together, but Satoru exhausted himself with yelling in the last fifteen minutes and so now he’s simply quietly fuming at Suguru’s side.

“Geto,” Yaga warningly says and Suguru gets it, he does.

Powerful curses are cropping up everywhere these days, way more than they are used to and it would go faster if Satoru and he were sent on separate missions but that’s just not acceptable.

Not after everything that happened.

“It’s not happening,” Suguru says again, because he will not allow them to separate him from Satoru and if Yaga thinks he’s going to falter on that then he’s fucking wrong.

This might be a long night.

“The last time we were separated, the Star Plasma Vessel died, the school was infiltrated, I died and Suguru got seriously injured. It’s not happening.”

Satoru’s tone is clipped and cold and Suguru leans more firmly into him.

Yaga doesn’t need to know this, but ever since that entire mess, they haven’t spent more than an hour apart. They take their showers together in the communal showers, they eat together, they sleep together, and they spent all their other time together as well.

The one time they had to be separated for longer was when Satoru had been summoned to talk to the Elders and twenty minutes in Suguru had been ready to level the school to get to Satoru. Satoru clearly hadn’t fared any better because when he did finally come back out his hand compulsively kept making the finger sign for red and Suguru wondered if anyone in the area even knew how close to dying they were that day.

So no. Another separation is not happening.

“You either send us together or not at all,” Suguru adds, his voice just as cold as Satoru’s and Yaga seems to know when he lost because he deflates, a pained look on his face.

“Get the hell out of my face,” he grumbles and Suguru knows it’s a win.

Suguru doesn’t know who reaches out first, but neither of them speak when they tangle their fingers together as they walk back to their room.

They will not be separated again.

~*~*~

Suguru feels cold rage lick up his throat and he distantly wonders if this is how Satoru had felt with Riko’s body in his arms, moments before he annihilated every last person in that room.

“Satoru,” Suguru says, barely able to hear his own voice over the screaming of the people behind them.

He should probably turn around and try to calm them down, get them out of the house, but his eyes are fixed on the little girls in the cage and he can’t bring himself to look away from them.

Suguru isn’t even sure what he wants Satoru to do, why he’s turning to him for this but when Satoru’s hand tangles with it, he instantly feels more grounded.

“There doesn’t need to be a point to it,” Satoru says, his voice calm and collected and Suguru takes a deep breath.

The first one since he entered this house.

“But this would definitely be one anyway,” Satoru goes on and Suguru recognises the rage in his voice.

It’s different than it was with the Star Religion Group; they were both too numb to really care, too shocked by how their lives had just been overthrown, but this. This is fuelled by pure rage.

Two innocent little girls are locked in a cage, for the crime of being different, and by what Suguru can make out in the dim light they’ve been beaten pretty badly.

Two innocent little girls. Even younger than Riko.

“It’s my turn now,” Suguru decides and Satoru huffs out a laugh.

“I hope no one’s keeping score,” he mutters even as he nods. “I’ll get them out.”

Suguru wants to agree but he hesitates, just long enough for Satoru to notice.

“What?” Satoru asks and he steps close, concern clear on his face and Suguru breathes out as he rests their foreheads together.

“It’s not just them,” Suguru softly says, the yelling of the adults loud and annoying in his ears. “I’m not going to kill just them.”

He doesn’t know why he says it, isn’t sure if he’s looking for permission or a reprimand but when Satoru smiles widely at him a weight falls off him.

Permission it was, then.

“I should hope not,” Satoru cheerfully says and that manic look is back on his face.

It should be disturbing—Suguru heard Shoko say as much before and even Yaga sometimes looks strangely at Satoru when he looks like this—but to Suguru it’s simply beautiful.

Beautiful enough that he leans forward, just slightly, just enough to be able to brush his lips over Satoru’s.

“Go get the girls,” he says as he pulls back and Satoru’s smile softens, just the slightest bit, as he squeezes Suguru’s hand before he lets go, turning towards the cage and crouching low, so the girls don’t feel frightened by him towering over them.

Suguru watches them for a moment longer before he turns around, curse already at the ready, and he is no Satoru Gojo.

It takes him a bit longer to wipe out the village, but only marginally so.

“Yaga is going to bust a vein,” Satoru says as he steps up to him, surveying the carnage around him, a girl in every arm.

“He can yell all he wants,” Suguru gives back and reaches out to take one of the quietly sniffling girls from him. “You’re safe now,” he whispers to her, knowing that it won’t do much for now, but the girl clings to him anyway.

“Let’s go home,” Satoru says with one last look over the still burning village and Suguru shifts the girl around until he’s able to reach for Satoru’s hand.

“Let’s go home,” he agrees and when Satoru smiles at him, it almost feels as if he already is.

[edandstede]

some thoughts about ofmd 2x07 and the “break up” (it’s not, it’s ed being an impulsive sensitive fool (affectionate) but i digress) so spoilers abound, just wanted to share my pov

ok so!!! ed panicked. he’s still trying to figure his shit out, trying to heal from literally dying, from losing stede and getting him back and every dark thing that happened with the crew. so much has happened in such a short space of time that his head must be spinning. we see him flashing back to it, he’s still processing, and it’s all going so fast.

and then the revenge gets boarded and he has to watch stede be tortured, watch stede take a life purposefully for the first time, be reminded of killing his own dad, and then they fall into bed together after ed went to him to see if he was okay. they have sex, and ed makes stede this lovely breakfast, and he throws his leathers overboard whilst wearing his nice blue robe. he immediately wants to shed blackbeard for good and live in this new bliss where he can be soft and safe, but that’s interrupted when stede says that near-death situations are hard to avoid in their line of work. he’s brought crashing back to reality and thinks, shit, this isn’t gonna work is it? what have i done?

his head and heart are being pulled in so many directions and he really is facing an identity crisis, a personal dilemma, trying to answer the question “what do i want?” while all this is going on, while he’s faced with the fact that they’ll never truly be safe doing this and they could lose each other again. he might never get proper peace and bliss with stede, and he wants it so much. he wants a life where he doesn’t see stede in danger ever again.

and ed is insecure too, is the thing. he’s so highly sensitive. about the twine on the tray, the fish he caught. stede isn’t the only one who runs and buries his head in the sand when shit gets tough, ed does it too. whim-prone. this time, running off to be a fisherman is ed’s blanket fort. he’s like, okay, i’m feeling bad so that must mean last night was too fast, a mistake, and i don’t wanna do the pirate thing anymore but stede is loving his new fame, so that must mean i should leave. it’s almost like he’s rejecting himself before stede can, before stede realises this isn’t gonna work, that they want different things; they’re not compatible after all and it’ll hurt less if he walks away first this time. he’s trying to save himself the heartbreak.

i don’t think ed truly thinks them sleeping together was a mistake, i think so many feelings are just being mixed inside and that’s the conclusion he’s come to. he got to have this little taste of what their life could be like if they were safe and out of harm’s way together, settled down, but he doesn’t think it’s possible. he’s pissed off with himself for giving in to that temptation when he already knew he wanted to retire.

stede tells him their relationship can be whatever they want it to be but ed isn’t listening because he’s already made that impulsive choice and he’s stubborn, he’s afraid, he’s spiralling, he’s angry it has to be this way. he doesn’t even stop to think that, actually, it doesn’t have to be this way. they could find their middle ground, it doesn’t have to be one life or the other, but they cannot do anything without talking it through.

ed feels doubt, uncertainty, and takes a job on a boat rather than actually telling stede what’s going on in his head. what he wants. he wants to retire, has this fantasy in his head of owning an inn with stede, having quiet domesticity away from a fear of death. clearly he doesn’t think they can compromise, it probably hasn’t occurred to him or it has and he just thinks it isn’t possible to have the best of both worlds. but it is, and they’ll get there, and i think s3 will see them really find the life they’re going to keep.

honestly they should just look at their crew, really look, at how they look after themselves and each other. they could learn a thing or two.

[summerofofelia]

Hello. I read a post you wrote about Joss. And I am genuinely asking because I am curious, if you don’t understand why Joss followed those people years ago, then why are you so quick to judge him ? Is it because you know precisely one thing about him? I get that you don’t like those people because of their actions, politics points, hate speech, and all the things you claim, etc. ..Did Joss say something thing ? Maybe I’m just not seeing what you are ? And again, I’m just curious and mean no offense

Okay so I JUST checked his instagram because I wanted to check something and he’s no longer following Pearl or Candace Owens (he was when I made my post about him this morning) so clearly someone at GMMTV has been like DUDE WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING FOLLOWING A HOLOCAUST DENIER

But to answer your question (and I don’t take any offense it’s all good I’m happy to chat about it)

I’ve seen a number of people question why some are “quick to judge” him based on the fact that he’s following some American right wing people.

So first off I just want to look at “following someone” and why “just following someone” is still a pretty good indication of someone’s character. When you follow someone online, that is a sign that you like them. That you support them. That you want to see more of their content (unless you’re one of those people that hate follow). So when I see a man is following a series of people that are all known to be hateful, misogynistic, sexist, homophobic, transphobic and bigoted, it gives me pause, because that follow button signals that in some way, you endorse that person.

Yes, he hasn’t “said” anything (that I know of). But the act of following these people says a lot. And also, I feel like the term “following them years ago” is used to try and distance Joss away from the harmfulness of some of these people (not saying you specifically did that, however it is what some people have done).

“What if he followed them years ago before they went down the alt right pipeline and he just hasn’t unfollowed them because he hasn’t realised?” That doesn’t exactly hold up considering he follows (as of this morning) Pearl’s extreme conservative podcast that has never had some kind of “unproblematic” time period, it’s always been That Bad. It’s always been a podcast run by a woman that says women are whores and shouldn’t vote and men should be allowed to cheat on their wives and trans people are scary. Yeah, he’s never said any of that. But considering he follows some that says that? Maybe he’s not the worst person in the entire world and I’m not gonna send the dude death threats or anything, but it has made me go, “okay… I don’t think I’m interested in following this guy’s career anymore”.

This isn’t like when you find out a celebrity you love follows a musician you don’t like and it’s like, “damn, this guy I love has shitty music taste 😭😭”. It’s like, “damn, this guy I love follows a woman who had her visa to Australia and New Zealand denied because of hateful shit she said about muslims and the holocaust!!”

But yeah, clearly GMMTV is in damage control mode because Joss isn’t following those people anymore. Except he’s still following Joe Rogan lol.

[elletromil]

Pinned down

3 years later, i am back with another fic for the strong desires series

Thank you to @gaiahenshin for sending me the inspiration post earlier this week that prompted me into writing for the first time since like... december?

Hopefully you'll like this ;)

Pinned down

After everything that happened these past few weeks, Rishan isn’t surprised that sleep eludes him when he finally gets a chance to rest.

Not surprised, but still getting progressively more annoyed as the hours drag on.

Ha had hoped the physical exhaustion would be enough, but of course he’d never be this lucky.

Rishan sighs.

Maybe he should have accepted Tiezui’s offer to come over for the night instead of going their separate ways. The other man does possess the uncanny ability to quiet his min seemingly effortlessly.

Or well, effortlessly might not be the appropriate word there. Tiezui usually exert quite a bit of force with him, to Rishan’s continued delight.

He wonders if it’s too late to go over now.

He knows from previous nights spent in Tiezui’s bed that the man doesn’t turn in early, but it is currently closer to the early hours of the morning than it is to the late hours of the night.

And part of the reason he decided against following Tiezui to his home had been because Tiezui himself had looked even worse than Rishan felt. He needed rest just as much, if not more, than Rishan.

After all, it’s Rishan’s job to follow Fo Ye into danger. A job he has chosen to do and continues to choose, just like Tiezui continues to choose helping Fo Ye whenever he asked, but it doesn’t change the fact that Tiezui is a civilian.

His comfort is higher on Rishan’s list of priorities than his own.

Something which Tiezui might have some objections about if he was to mention it.

That this realisation only hits him now rather than a few hours ago when they parted is a testament to how exhausted Rishan actually is.

Tiezui has always been an attentive friend. That hasn’t changed, even after the somewhat recent turn in their relationship. The only difference is that Tiezui now has additional ways to show his care for Rishan.

A pleasant shiver runs down his body when he remembers the last time they were together, remembers how Tiezui hold him down to the bed. Remembers the faint marks left on his wrists the next morning.

Those marks are long gone now, but Rishan finds himself  absent-mindedly rubbing at the skin nonetheless.

At first, Tiezui had been very careful not to leave any signs of what happened between them when they were behind closed doors and he still does for the most part.

But when Rishan had made it clear he didn’t mind carrying his marks, that he even welcomed it in fact, he had started indulging them both.

It’s never anything that cannot be easily hidden by clothes, but they are lovely reminders of how safe Rishan feels when he’s in Teizui’s company.

When he relinquishes himself into his hands.

That’s something he cannot deny he’s currently longing for.

The excitement of the past few weeks is over, everything has been dealt with, but Rishan simply cannot shut his reeling mind, no matter how hard he tries.

Even if he knows it’s not true, he feels like he’s forgetting something, feels like danger is imminent.

Giving up on his attempts to sleep, Rishan makes a decision.

Tiezui surely won’t thank him for waking him up, but Rishan dares to believe he won’t stay mad once he knows why Rishan is visiting him in the middle of the night.

*

“Lieutenant?” Tiezui is still trying to shake off sleep from his eyes, but the sight of Rishan at his doorstep is enough to make him feel slightly more alert.

The other man looks even worse than when they parted ways in the early evening and fear over what it can mean starts nibbling at Tiezui. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

The words are enough to let him know that whatever he was starting to imagine, it has nothing to do with official business. This is not Lieutenant Zhang Rishan on a mission for Fo Ye standing in front of him.

This is simply Rishan who came to him for something personal.

Tiezui grumbles a bit but still waves him in. He wished Rishan had chosen a more decent time than the middle of the night for a visit, but he would never actually turn him away, no matter the circumstances.

Rishan follows him to his private rooms with a sheepish smile and palpable nervous energy.

Before he can sit down, Tiezui grabs him by the wrist, thumb seeking his pulse point. He frowns at the rapid heartbeat, fully awake now with worry.

“Rishan?”

He’s not sure what to follow it up with, especially when Rishan just stands there, mouth opening and closing silently, avoiding his eyes.

And well, that simply won’t do.

His other hand come up to cup the back of his neck, bringing their forehead to rest against one another. Rishan closes his eyes then, but Tiezui is rewarded by the feeling of his body relaxing slightly.

He’s still holding too tense for Tiezui’s liking however and he chances tightening his grip around Rishan’s wrist.

The effect is immediate, a small moan escaping Rishan as he takes what is probably an involuntary step forward.

“Rishan?” he prompts again, this time less a question and more of a demand.

Rishan swallows audibly, but Tiezui can feel his heartbeat slowing down against his thumb and knows he’s doing the right thing

“Tell me why you’re here Rishan.”

Tiezui takes a step back, letting the hand at Rishan’s neck slide to cup his cheek instead, holding his head so that Rishan has no choice but to hold his gaze.

He can still see some anxiety in the other man’s eyes, but this time when he opens his mouth, he manages to let some words out.

“Could you- I mean… Would you-” There’s a few false starts until Rishan let out a groan and shakes his head in frustration, dislodging Tiezui’s hand from his cheek. At Rishan’s devastated look over the loss, Tiezui is quick to cup his cheek again.

Rishan sighs softly at the renewed contact, leaning into the touch, slightly baring his neck to him. With that small display of submission, Tiezui isn’t all that surprised by Rishan’s request when he finally finds his words.

“Would you hold me down?”

“Of course.”

His reply comes without any hesitation.

Without judgment.

When he had offered Rishan spend the night earlier, he hadn’t had anything in mind besides blessed sleep tangled up in one another. Just some well deserved rest after the mess they had been dealing with for the past few weeks.

But he would be lying if he pretended he hadn’t been ready to take care of Rishan in whatever ways in needed him to. His trust in those matters is a treasure Tiezui cherishes deeply. It is humbling to think Rishan is standing here now because of that same trust.

“Let’s get you changed into something more comfortable first, hmm?”

Rishan nods, most tension in his body having seemingly evaporated.

He’s not quite listless, but he’s certainly pliable, letting Tiezui direct him and move his body as he sees fit.

Another time, Tiezui would have undressed him and leave him nude, but that is not what Rishan has asked for. Not what he so obviously needs.

So instead, he does exactly what he said he would and dresses him again in sleeping clothes.

Not any of Rishan’s though and not only because Rishan obviously didn’t think of bringing anything with him tonight. After all, it’s been some time now that their relationship has turn more intimate and in that time, some of Rishan’s belongings have been left in Tiezui’s care.

That includes some spare clothing Tiezui has plenty to choose from.

But Tiezui is possessive even at the best of time and he won’t deny himself the pleasure of seeing Rishan in his own clothes. Of staking his claim on him in that way too.

Not that Rishan is complaining about it.

In fact, a soft smile is playing on his lips when he realises what he’s wearing and he starts rubbing the fabric between his fingers as Tiezui leads him to bed.

He lets Rishan a moment to get comfortable on his back before straddling him, hands pushing down on his shoulders.

“Good?”

Rishan starts struggling, not as hard as to throw him off his body, but enough that Tiezui needs to adjust the amount of force he’s using to hold him down.

In the end, he changed his grip to Rishan’s forearms with a disapproving tut, lowering himself so that his mouth is level with his shoulder and bites.

With the fabric between Rishan’s skin and his teeth, Tiezui bites down with more force than usual and cannot help the displeased growl that escapes him.

The sounds soon turns to something more approving when Rishan’s struggling stops suddenly and his body all but melts into the bed.

When he’s certain all fight has left his body, Tiezui let go of his shoulder and turns his head so that his lips brushes against Rishan’s ear.

“Good?” he asks again, because he wants to make sure he’s actually giving Rishan what he asked for.

He shouldn’t have worried.

Rishan groans pleasantly, nodding his head.

“I need words Rishan,” he orders gently anyway, because Rishan is too precious to hi to leave anything to doubt.

“Yes.” It’s more of a sigh than a whisper. “Again? My shoulder- I mean-”

Tiezui nips playfully at his earlobe before Rishan can grow more agitated in trying to convey his desire. It would be a shame to have him tense again when he feels so relaxed under him and when Tiezui understand perfectly what he’s asking for.

Leaving a trail of kisses at his throat, he lowers his mouth again, closing his teeth on his shoulder, hard enough that it will leave a mark even through the fabric.

Rishan’s hands come up just enough that he can grasp Tiezui’s clothes at his hips, as if afraid Tiezui will suddenly leave him.

He hums comfortingly, before Rishan can become anxious again. He has nothing to fear.

Tiezui isn’t going anywhere.

Not when Rishan needs him.

[runninriot]

...✍️

The lake is crowded with families and couples and he’s a 26 year old single male, babysitting a 14 year old that doesn’t need him at all.

At least he can be a little proud of not having forgotten how to skate. He hasn’t done that probably in over 10 years but he’s surprised to find that he’s actually able to keep himself upright and balanced on his feet. Good enough to challenge Dustin for a race.

   “Okay, butthead. On the count of three. One. Two.”

   “Hey! That’s not fair!”

Steve doesn’t need to look back to see Dustin’s mad face when he goes off with a head start. He laughs when he hears Dustin close behind, obviously struggling to catch up to him.

They’re not alone on the ice, so they have to occasionally dodge other people to not crash into them. They have almost reached their imaginary finish line and Steve is already celebrating his victory when he makes the mistake of turning his head back to look for Dustin and BAM! rams into someone and topples them both to the ground.

   “Hey asshole! What the fuck is wrong with you? You could’ve hit a kid!”

   “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

Steve collects himself, makes sure everything’s still intact before scrambling back to his feet and looking for the guy he crashed into, to see if he’s hurt. He’s about to apologize when he realises who he collided with.

   “Oh my god, Eddie! I’m- here, let me help you. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Eddie’s expression softens when he recognizes him but Steve can see that he’s still angry. As he should be. Because what Steve did was irresponsible. He could’ve seriously hurt someone.

   “Nah, man. I’m good. Just- what the hell were you doing, Steve?”

He takes Steve’s offered hand to help him back up. Beside them, Sally comes into view at the same time Dustin arrives behind him.

   “Wow, Steve. First you cheat and then you run someone over,” he snickers and Steve throws him a look over his shoulder.

   “Not helping, Dustin.”

Eddie laughs at their interaction and it’s only then Steve realises they haven’t let go of each other’s hands. He drops it like he’s been burned, feels heat spreading in his cheeks while Eddie looks at him with crinkled eyes and a lovely smile. Always so kind even if Steve keeps fucking things up.

   “See, dad! I told you you shouldn’t have gone the wrong way.” Sally is looking at Eddie with her arms crossed and a very disappointed, very stern look on her face. Like a mother scolding her misbehaving son.

Steve can’t help but laugh and despite still feeling a little bad, he also feels so light hearted and at ease like he hasn’t for quite some time.

Eddie and Dustin join him with their own laughter and after a while, even Sally rolls her eyes and steps close to her dad to pull him into a side hug.

   “Guess we both fucked up a little, huh?”

Eddie smiles and Steve ignores the tiny jump his heart makes when Eddie looks at him with these big, dark eyes; so deep Steve nearly loses himself in them, barley saved by Dustin’s voice that cuts through the crackling in his ears.

   “I’m Dustin. Hey, I really like that patch on your Jacket. DnD, right?”

   “You play?”

Steve has absolutely zero idea what they’re talking about but the fact that Eddie’s face lights up even more at Dustin’s words makes him happy too.

While Eddie and Dustin fall into a quick back and forth conversation, nearly screaming at each other in excitement, Sally glides over to his side.

   “Dad loves that game. They’re gonna be a while. D’you want to do a lap with me? I’m still learning but I’m not too bad on my skates.”

Steve doesn’t even think about it, just offers his hand for her to take. Her first few steps are still cautious but soon she gets the hang of it and Steve dares to twirl her around carefully. As he watches Sally giggle and smile, he’s suddenly hit with the memory of a girl – strawberry blonde hair up in a pony tail, glistening blue eyes and a smile brighter than the sun.

They stop, maybe because Sally noticed his changing demeanour, and Steve can’t force the urge down to take both her hands and squeeze them tightly.

   “You look so much like her.” He didn’t want to say it out loud, knows he’s overstepping.

   “You knew my mom?” Sally's smile grows wider.

   “I did, yeah. Not very good but we’ve been to the same school.”

Sally nods, thinks for a moment, and then her brows furrow.

   “You must’ve known my father too, then.”

Steve nearly chokes on air. That-

He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised but somehow he thought-

He didn’t think Sally knew that Eddie wasn’t her real dad. She does call him dad so, Steve assumed that maybe they’ve made her believe that he was. But apparently, not all families hide behind a web of lies.

   “I- I did. But he...”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t want to make her feel bad by pushing a finger into an open wound.

   “He could’ve never compared to Eddie. You’ve got the best dad there. Even if he’s shit at skating.” Steve winks at her, hopes it’s enough to take away some of the heaviness.

   “Yeah. He’s alright," she answers through a giggle.

They both turn to look at where Eddie and Dustin are still gesturing excitedly at each other.

Sally and Steve are still holding hands and when Eddie catches sight of them, Steve can see the way his body eases, can see the love shining in his eyes even from the distance.

Eddie really is a good guy. A great dad. A nice person.

It makes Steve sad to think that in another life, they maybe could’ve been friends. Because despite their very different characters and the very different situations they are in, he feels like they’re not so different when it comes to their values and dreams.

Comfort, love, a place to call home.

There isn’t much else you need to be happy.

Maybe Steve, too, will find that some day.

[ismelinor]

A Dustland Fairytale (5/12)

Read on AO3 | tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 5: To Build a Home

Camelot was a brilliant new world for Scully – and it only took a year or so for her to wake up and realise it.

At first, she’d been overwhelmed: by her new duties, by all the things she had to learn, by the force of Mulder’s personality.

But today – today, Scully woke up and realised that she had built a home for herself in Camelot, and she loved it here. She loved her little room, covered wall-to-wall in anatomical and botanical sketches. She loved learning to treat patients (magically or otherwise) under Skinner. And, most of all, she loved running off after the impossible with Mulder.

Yes, today, Scully woke up smiling. She got to do what she’d always dreamed of doing – and several things that she’d never even have dreamt of – and she got to do it every day.

She walked into the apothecary, still smiling, and as Skinner was nowhere to be seen, she started on their breakfast. She’d finished hers, and was beginning to worry about Skinner’s getting cold, by the time he got back. He looked pale, and went paler still when he saw her.

Her stomach dropped and the smile fell from her face.

Something awful had happened; she could see it on his face. Oh, gods, Missy? Mulder?

“I’ve already given Melissa her letter. I’m so sorry, Dana. Here.”

Scully stared at the proffered letter. She had a sudden, childlike impulse to refuse to take it. But the sight of her mother’s rushed hand brought with it a wave of awful curiosity, and she took the letter, allowing Skinner to guide her to a seat at the table.

My darling child,

I cannot tell you how sorry I am to write this letter – or how sorry I am not to be able to comfort you, and receive your comfort in return. It is the most dreadful news. Your father-

And just like that, Scully’s brilliant new world was knocked off its axis.

The chapter doesn’t end. There is no sharp cut to crying at a wake – no, for her mother goes on to write that she should not come home for the wake at all. That her father will be buried by the time she reads these words. Her father. Her father, dead, buried.

She looked up at Skinner, searching for answers, but he looked as helpless as she felt.

~~~

Her feet found their way to the kitchens and then to Mulder’s door. It seemed very important that Mulder shouldn’t know what had happened, so she tried to arrange her face into a neutral expression before she entered.

Clearly, it didn’t work, because Mulder took one look at her and asked, “What’s wrong, Scully?”

Scully blinked. “Nothing. I’m fine, Mulder.”

He walked over and frowned at her, scrutinising her features. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

Scully turned her face away from him. “I got…a letter from my mother this morning. My father has passed away.” She tried to say it just like that: just a fact, just a thing that had happened, and not like her entire world had crumbled. Her voice broke anyway and gave her away.

Mulder made a shocked, choking sound, but said nothing: he just pulled her into his chest. She appreciated that. He knew she wanted to hide her face; didn’t want him to see her cry. Time wasn’t moving like it usually did, so Scully couldn’t be sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually she pulled away. Mulder put his hand on her cheek and held her gaze.

“I’m sorry about your father, Scully.”

She nodded.

“Shall I take you back to the apothecary? Or do you want to be with Melissa?”

Scully frowned. “Don’t we have work to do? You said you wanted to start on your compendium of magical creatures today.”

Mulder shook his head with a sad smile. “That can wait. You need to rest, Scully. Take some time off.”

“I want to work, Mulder. I love this job.”

Mulder stroked a thumb across her cheekbone. “You love your father.”

Scully could feel her hands starting to shake. “Please, Mulder. I need to think about something else or I…I don’t know. Please. Please.”

He wiped her tears away and nodded, guiding her over to the table. “Ok, then, Scully. Shall we start with faeries?”

~~~

Distraction did work, in some ways. She could get totally engrossed in the research, or in arguing with Mulder, and that gave her some peace from the gulf that seemed to be stretching within her. The flipside of that was that she then had to remember: the first few times, she got so lost in her work that she forgot this whole awful thing, only for it to come rushing back to her, piercing her soul anew each time. After that, the idea of her father being gone stuck in her mind, dormant while she focused on something, but ever-present. It lost its sharpness, but that turned it into a pervasive dullness, stretching into every crevice of her mind.

Melissa found her there, sometime in the afternoon. They didn’t say anything to one another – there were no words for this, but they clung together. Mulder pushed them, as one unit, onto his bed, and left them alone. They slept there for gods-know how long, and Scully awoke with a pounding headache from crying.

Missy brushed her hair back out of her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s really gone,” she whispered.

Scully didn’t have any tears left in her, so she just nodded.

“He’s someplace better, now. We’ll see him again one day.”

Scully’s beliefs had never quite overlapped with her sister’s, but she believed her now, absolutely, because she had no choice. Of course they would see their father again someday. Of course he was in a wonderful place with all his favourite things: the grass and the trees and the smell of the outdoors. She smiled.

~~~

Hours passed, even though it felt like they shouldn’t. Hours turned into days, which was even worse.

Mulder looked up at her over the pile of books between them. He kept doing that, watching her. As if she might fall apart if he looked away for too long. It was equal parts irritating and endearing.

He cleared his throat and began carefully, “Um, Scully. I thought maybe you-”

“Mulder, I told you, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m fine.”

“I know that. You’re fine. But can I tell you something? Please?”

Scully inclined her head to give him the go-ahead.

“When my father died, um, there was this public memorial service. And beforehand, the royal advisor – you know Strughold? – he came to talk to me. He told me the funeral was for the public, so that they could mourn my father. He said that it was my job to put on a brave face so the public could see that the royal family was still strong. I couldn’t cry, or even look sad, or people would think that Camelot was weak, and they might try to attack us. I, uh, don’t remember the service itself. I think I was so focused on not crying that I didn’t actually pay attention to what was happening.” He smiled. “Samantha found me that evening, crying my eyes out in one of the turrets. I told her about the funeral, and do you know what she did? She put on a memorial service just for me, the next day. We snuck out into the forest and stuck a big stick into the ground to mark the site, and then she read a poem, and we sang nursery rhymes because those were the only songs we knew, and I got to say my goodbyes.” He tapped the table nervously. “I know it’s not the same. I’m not saying it’s the same thing, but you and Missy couldn’t go home for the burial, and I spoke to Samantha, and if you both wanted, I mean, we could put on a memorial here, and-”

Scully cut off his rambling by pulling him into a tight hug.

~~~

Samantha and Mulder planned the memorial for the following afternoon, after training with the knights. Scully was standing on the edge of the field, watching Mulder run through drills. In theory, she was there to tend to any injuries acquired, but really she just liked watching the fighting. She usually tried to remember the movements so she could practice them later with Mulder or Samantha, who was just as good with a sword as her brother. She was getting quite good herself.

She wasn’t paying much attention today, but she found the rhythm of the drills relaxing. Scully hadn’t been getting much sleep recently, so when she caught sight of Bill, of all people, striding through the gates of Camelot, she thought she must be daydreaming. But, no, he was really there; really cutting right through forty knights of Camelot to get to her. He was wearing his usual look of angry determination. Scully sighed. She didn’t have the energy for this right now.

Bill started as soon as he was within shouting distance. “We’re going home. Where’s Melissa?”

Scully stared at him. He had nerve, she’d give him that. “We’re not going anywhere, Bill.”

“Dana, our father is dead. It’s all very well and good for you girls to go off galivanting, but our mother needs you at home.”

Scully tried to tamp down her irritation. “If mum needed us at home, she would have written to us, Bill. She specifically told us not to come home.”

Bill groaned. “You’re supposed to be the sensible one, Dana. Do you really think this is a good use of your life?” He gestured around the square derisively.

“I’m happy here, Bill. So is Missy. And, in case you forgot, I can’t go home. Or has everyone magically forgotten about the little incident with the Turner boy?”

Bill reached out to grab Scully’s arm, which was all the excuse Mulder needed to rush over to them.

“Are you alright, Scully?” he asked, glancing at Bill warily.

“I’m fine, Mulder. This is my brother, Bill.”

Mulder looked surprised, but stuck his hand out for Bill to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Bill. I’m very sorry about your father.”

Bill ignored Mulder’s hand and instead squared up against him. This was not going to end well.

“Bill, please. This is the prince.”

“I don’t care if he’s the high emperor of all Albion. What the hell are you doing with him?”

Scully knew her brother; he was an honourable man at heart, but he’d never been good at expressing emotions. She knew that right now, he was only getting angry because he was grieving over their father and scared for the three women he felt responsible for. She tried to stay calm – she had years of experience that told her fighting his anger with anger would only lead to an explosion.

“Bill, come on. Let’s go find Missy.”

Unfortunately, Mulder made the mistake of putting a hand on Scully’s back: it was an unconscious habit at this point, and usually Scully gleaned comfort from it, but to Bill it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. He turned on Mulder, practically steaming from the ears.

“Are you bedding my sister?” he demanded. Scully gaped at him in horror.

Mulder, naturally, looked flabbergasted. “Melissa? Of course not! I would never endanger a woman’s honour-”

That was enough. Scully grabbed Bill by the arm and forcibly dragged him away before he could respond and blow her cover.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded as soon as they were alone. Well, she’d tried not to get angry; it hadn’t worked.

“What’s wrong with me? Dana, what are you doing here? Do you seriously think that being a servant to that idiot is better than acting like a woman and getting married?”

Scully squeezed her hands into fists in an attempt not to strangle her brother. “He respects me.”

Bill scoffed. “He respects you? Dana, he doesn’t even know you’re a girl!”

“A woman, Bill. I’m a grown woman, just like Missy. And he knows me better than my own brother seems to.”

Bill recoiled like he’d been slapped. That was the reaction she was going for, yet she couldn’t even feel triumphant. They were both miserable and taking it out on each other. Her father had told her once that it took a great man to fight, but it took a greater man to concede. She hadn't believed him at the time: she'd been arguing with Charlie over a beautiful carved knife that was definitely hers, and, as a fourteen-year-old girl, she had no interest in being the greater man. But they weren’t kids any more, and she didn't have the fight left in her anyway.

Scully sighed and pulled her brother into a hug. He hesitated for a moment before putting his arms around her. “I am sorry I wasn’t there, Bill,” Scully mumbled into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry too, Danes,” he mumbled back.

Scully gave him one last squeeze, then let go. Bill averted his face, but Scully could see him hastily brushing away an errant tear.

“Let’s go talk to Missy,” she said.

~~~

Bill stayed for their impromptu memorial service that evening, though he barely said a word, then said a stilted goodbye to each of his sisters. Clearly, he felt that he’d expressed enough emotion for one day.

Missy rolled her eyes at him fondly as he strode out of Camelot just as purposefully as he’d stridden in.

It was then, as they were watching Bill leave, that Scully first saw the little girl – outside of her dreams, that was. It was just a flash of red hair, in the distance, but there was no doubt in Scully’s mind that it was her. None of the others had seen a thing, though, and Scully was too bone-tired to run after a phantom child that night, so she let it go.

~~~

The girl came back, though. Always in the corner of Scully’s eye, always gone before she could get a good look. At first, she only appeared in the forest, like in her dreams, but she seemed to be getting bolder: Scully would spot her in the marketplace, or behind a house in the lower town, or even in the square.

When Scully wandered off after the girl during training one day, Mulder ran after her. She tried to explain about the girl from her dreams, but Mulder just looked worried. He asked how she’d been sleeping, if she’d spoken to Skinner recently. It irked her, so she brushed him off and they went back to training.

About a week later, the girl appeared again – this time while she and Mulder were fighting off a very angry skōlex – a truly horrendous giant white worm with a nasty looking set of teeth. Scully tried to focus on dodging the worm’s attacks, but the girl didn’t disappear this time: she just stood and watched them fight the monster. Scully was distracted, trying to keep an eye on both the girl and the skōlex, and she was too slow: the damned thing latched onto her leg and pain lanced through her. Within a second, Mulder had sliced through the creature, cutting its head clean off, and he knelt next to her leg with his panic face on.

Scully winced, looking down at the wound: it was bleeding profusely, as leg wounds tended to, but it didn’t look too deep. “Gotta put pressure on it,” she panted.

Mulder cut a strip of fabric from his tunic and wound it tightly around her leg. “What happened there, Scully? I thought you had a clear shot.”

Scully pointed at the little girl, who was still watching them, head cocked to one side. Mulder followed her finger, but he looked confused. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“You can’t see her?”

Scully immediately knew it was a mistake. She shouldn’t have said anything about the girl. Mulder looked even more worried, and once he’d half-carried her back to Camelot, he insisted that she tell Skinner about ‘her visions’.

Skinner looked just as concerned as Mulder, and asked her all sorts of questions about how she was sleeping and whether she was experiencing any other visual hallucinations.

She hated it. Hated that they were looking at her like she was losing it.

And she knew that they might be right – that high emotion and traumatic loss could lead to a person imagining things; she’d seen it herself in patients who had seen battle. But it galled her that Mulder, who made it his mission to find a new impossible thing to believe in every day, didn’t believe her.

She was angry at him, she found, and because she was angry, she withdrew. And the more she withdrew, the more he worried about her, which only annoyed her more.

It was a strange stalemate that they found themselves in, and as much the distance between them made Scully unhappy, she couldn’t see a way out. How could he expect her implicit trust in all his mad quests when he didn’t trust her word? She only wished he’d stop looking at her with those big, sad eyes.

Ultimately, the result of this little feud between them was that when Scully saw the little girl waving her over to the forest one day, she ignored the instinct to call Mulder over and tell him where she was going, and instead slipped away from the training ground as quietly as possible.

Sometimes, in years to come, Scully would look back and wonder if she knew, deep down, that it was a trap. She would wonder if she let herself be taken, because the despair within her was so great. Maybe she did.

In the moment, though, all she knew was that she was walking towards a place with grass and trees and the smell of the outdoors, and that made her smile.

[bonesandthebees]

Okay so I don’t have much time, cus that chapter took me like 1, 5 h to read (a combination of my dyslexia being a bitch, me watching Phil’s qsmp kitchen building stream in the background, and me constantly having to take a moment (TM) to process, scream and or squeal because you writing is giving me many emotions tonight. Anyway, have some delayed ‘live’ reactions.

So the chapter summary in combination with the chapter starting before they are back at the temple instantly shot my anxiety through the roof. My adrenaline was pumping (for most of the chapter actually).

Also, it’s good that you reminded us Wilbur hit his head cuz I had legitimately forgotten that bit. And the fact that he hit his head is important because my mans is bleeding. BEE, this is head wound number TWO! BEE, aren’t you put him through enough? Doesn’t he have enough trauma? Does he need the physical injuries too?

Anyway, I’m sure Wilbur walking in Injured was good for Phil’s heart rate. Not as bad as finding out both of them are missing though. But the realisation that Wilbur is bleeding reframes that entire scene because Phil was looking at Wilbur for an entirely different reason than he thought it was. I have yet to reread it, but I look forward to doing that tomorrow.

I gotta love Tommy getting grounded. Welcome to the average teenage experience. [Without thinking, the Pythia huffed out a, “Or what, you’ll ground me too?”

Phil gave him a flat stare. “Yes.”] let me tell you, I cackled. I have to pause for a solid minute to laugh. Congratulations, Wilbur, making up for teenage experience you’ve never had.

And the rest of this chapter is basically just sand duo. There is so much sand duo. I am living my best life. I am being fed. I have so much to analyse. But the summary the chapter summary should have been Wilbur speed-running getting adopted by Phil or Phil speed-running adopting Wilbur. Listen it’s some good father-son bonding with the regular dose of trauma dumping form Wilbur. And an equally expected dose of Phil hearing how shit Wilbur has been treated and adopting him on the stop. And I’m starting to think Kristin has been trying to pspspsps him so she can adopt him since the moment he stepped into the temple (and let me tell you I SCREAMED at that chapter end).

(also, rip Tommy, also, also, Techno burned the Aardvark, I’m sure he’s having a fun time with Tommy bored out of his mind, also, also, also, Wilbur still complimenting Niki’s bread even if he probably hasn’t talked to her in a week).

Anyway, I gotta go now! I’ll be back to scream more later! Thanks for the content! Thanks for the sand duo! I’m going to pray my room has cooled down cuz I will not be able to fall asleep when it’s 30 degree Celsius.

-🌲

I have no idea how you were watching phil's stream while reading the chapter I cannot watch streams while reading fics (tbh I can't do much of anything when reading I have to put my full focus in it to process the words) so kudos to you for that even if it took a bit longer to read

oh yeah I knew everyone was going to brush over wilbur hitting his head at the end of the last chapter. it was such a 'blink and you'll miss it' moment bc I didn't even include it 'onscreen' and just described it happening from afar. it was meant to be very subtle so that when it gets pulled into focus in the next chapter the readers are just as surprised as wilbur is about it

also it was a MINOR wound i swear he did not get head trauma from this one he just cut his eyebrow he's okay 😭

phil was lucky he didn't have a damn heart attack that night. the man went through so much stress and then his son and the pythia they kidnapped stroll back in all casually, and the pythia is BLEEDING and neither one of them even seems to notice

wilbur's gotta get the average teen experience at one point in his life right?? I was very proud of that line lol it was so funny to me

this chapter was especially fun for me to write bc of all the sand duo. god as much as I love crimeboys I had so much fun writing sand in stars, that I was SO happy getting to dive back into their dynamic in this chapter. sandduo just hits different fr. they did so much bonding.

techno felt a headache coming on the second he heard tommy call his rag 'clementine' he is suffering so much to make sure that kid does his damn chores

glad you saw the subtle nod to complimenting niki's baking even if they're still in a very uncertain place with each other :)

can't wait to hear the rest of your thoughts!! also oh god 30 degrees that's really not fun. I hope you get a cool breeze through your windows tonight o7

[laura1633]

Not the ex-sex anon but this sounds good "are they both still in love with each other but too afraid to admit it?" Mostly because I cannot see them separated 😭

I am the same, I struggle to write them not getting a happy ending together 🥺 I just want them both happy!

I will probably write a filthy ex-sex story at some point but for now here is a rough little drabble of Max and Charles hooking up as ex's

Max buries his face into the pillows and lets the bedding swallow up most of his moans. He thought that having Charles fuck him from behind would make this all easier. That not having to look into Charles’ eyes or be tempted to kiss him or touch him would somehow make this feel more like what it is supposed to be - a casual fuck. 

But Max knows now that there is no such thing as a casual fuck with an ex. Or at least not with an ex you are still in love with. 

Physically it feels just as good as it always did. Charles always did know how to get him off. It’s not fast and furious, it’s long slow deep thrusts that keep Max’s eyes rolling into the back of his head and his body arching up for more. Even the feel of the Monegasque’s dick is familiar. Big enough that Max’s muscles have to work for it but not so big it hurts. 

It’s not all familiar though. Charles’ grip around Max’s cock feels different as he starts to jerk him off. The Monegasque’s hand works off rhythm to the snap of his hips. The dual tempo feels so fucking good that Max wants to cry, except it’s not just being brought to orgasm and spilling all over the bed beneath him that is bringing tears to the Dutchman’s eyes. It’s the fact that he can’t help but wonder how Charles has perfected this move, whether it’s with someone they know, whether Charles loved them, whether they were better than Max. 

“Fuck” Charles grips hold of Max’s hips and holds him steady as he comes inside him. Just like the old days. And Max knows he should have insisted on using a condom but he’s missed the feel of Charles’ come trickling down his thighs. In the back of his mind he stupidly re-assured himself that Charles wouldn’t have been with anyone else, now he’s not so sure. 

“I should go” Charles pulls out and gets dressed in almost record time. 

Naively Max hoped he would at least get the whole night. Then again, sleeping tangled up together and then parting ways in the morning would probably hurt even more. 

Max mumbles against the pillow but can’t bring himself to look back at Charles as the Monegasque makes his way out of the hotel room.  It’s best that Charles thinks of this night and remembers how willingly Max dropped to his knees and how he spread himself open and begged for more. It’s best Charles doesn’t see Max’s tears rolling down his face and sniffling to stop his nose running. 

The door clicks shut and Max rolls himself on to his back. It’s worse now. Now he’s got the taste of Charles on his lips and is left alone to savour it. The hard work he has put in over the last couple years to try and forget how good it was to be with the Monegasque has been eroded in less than an hour.

Deep down he knows he was never over Charles. Charles is the other half of him. So much so that he hasn’t felt like a full person since the break-up.

The Dutchman startles at the knocking at the door. His breath catches in his chest but he tries not to let his mind race ahead. As he tentatively gets up and peers through the peephole his heart all but jumps out of his chest and he’s swinging the door open before he’s even considered the fact he’s still naked and marked up with scratches and bites and come. 

“Charles?”

Max whimpers as Charles comes crashing into him. The Monegasque grabs hold of him and kicks the door closed as their lips slam together. It’s not like earlier in the night when they’d been hesitant and unsure if kissing was a good idea, this is Charles kissing him so fully and completely just like he always used to. Max is so overwhelmed and shocked he realises he’s not even kissing back.

“You don’t want - “ Charles pulls back.

“I want” Max manages to stutter as he grabs hold of Charles and drags him back down on to the bed. The Dutchman’s hands clasp at the Monegasque’s top fully intent on never letting Charles go again as he hears the words from Charles that he has been waiting to hear for two years now. 

“I still love you” 

[insomniasymphony]

Gojo x Geto Threeshot (2/3)

Title: Past Summer Lies Important: Read the first chapter here on Tumblr or on Ao3!

-

→ Cherry blossoms. I still remember the cherry blossoms we cursed that day, even though the time had long since passed. I think Tengen saw through us earlier than we saw through ourselves. Even though Tengen probably only recognised us as alien presences. ←

Suguru Geto, in a place long forgotten.

-

He walks up and down. Each of his steps makes a clattering sound – a bit like marbles rolling across a wooden floor. The preparations have been made. The seal paper is placed where it should be. Geto’s hair is positioned; and yet Satoru hasn’t lit a flame yet.

There’s no point in summoning Suguru and questioning his ghost – no, rather his soul – further if he doesn’t know the first thing about Kenjaku. He’s just as wise as all the other Jujutsu Sorcerers in the neighbourhood and therefore no help to be pulled out of the netherworld. There are two thousand things more important than dealing with old stuff in these seconds. Not least because he can’t make the same mistake he made in Shinjuku. His carelessness has cost the lives of so many that it is simply laughable to regard him as the strongest of his time.

However, there is this faint whispering in his head creeping to the fore with inappropriate phrases. He is Satoru Gojo, after all. Now that he has realised his mistake and become stronger, no one can really hold a candle to him. So why not have a little chat with an old friend? After all, they haven’t seen each other for three days – in theory.

His unsteady steps stop abruptly as he looks at the situation from this different angle. What does a few minutes cost when nobody wants more from him than safety in a broken world?

Armed with a lighter, Satoru finally approaches the hair and sets it alight. The flame turns an icy blue colour and before he can turn around, he notices the existence of someone else in the room. He closes his eyes briefly. It’s nothing more than his imagination, but Suguru’s subtle tangerine smell won’t let him go.

“I thought your questions had been cleared up after last time. I didn’t realise you had a weakness for sentimentality.”

“Or I just don’t have anyone at the moment who doesn’t run the other way when I talk.” A thin smile settles on Gojo’s lips as he taps the table in front of him and then half-turns to Suguru. “You can’t run away, so why not take the chance?”

“Please spare me your crying about the world being upside down. We realised that back then and no, they’re not going to pay you any better. You just need to learn to manage your finances properly.” Momentarily, Geto raises his hand before brushing a long strand of hair over his shoulder.

In this guise, he just looks like the corrupt monk he was in the end. The scar is missing and even if his gaze looks tired, there is no hint of alien life in his body.

“As harsh as ever,” is all Gojo manages to say in a grumble. Then he lowers his gaze. For a moment, asking the questions lurking in the back of his consciousness ever since can’t be wrong. “Do you resent me?”

“For what, exactly?”

“That it was me who killed you back then... Who had to give you death to protect... all of this.”

The silence sprouting between them roars in Satoru’s ears. He could clench his hands into fists, but showing more weakness than necessary isn’t what will get him to his goal. Weakness in this way isn’t allowed. So he raises his eyes and scrutinises his best friend – the clothes, the hair, the look of honest consideration on his features.

“I don’t know,” Geto finally replies. “I think it was difficult for both of us. It was a moment we both regretted in our own way.”

“What do you mean?” He actually knows. But there are hundreds of answers that could apply. Sure, they both regretted it. Because of that time. Because of the days they spent together. Because of their youth. Thanks to the fact they had been friends – and they still are today. The best.

And it is this certainty that makes Gojo realise he knows nothing. Absolutely nothing. He remembers the feeling when he killed Suguru – right through the heart – and he also remembers the pain in his chest. The tears he held back and the trembling hands, full of blood, as he hugged him one last time to say goodbye. The twisted understanding between them and the pain Satoru pushed into a box in the farthest corner of his heart afterwards have remained. After all these years.

Hearing an answer from Suguru would make it easier.

“You don’t really think I’m going to hand that to you on a silver platter, do you? I’m not even sure you have enough brain cells to understand the meaning behind it.” Suguru, however, can only muster a sigh as he lifts his shoulders and pretends to be talking to a bitter poodle.

“What else? When have you ever served me anything on a silver platter?” Protest leaves Gojo’s lips and though he doesn’t want to get hung up on it, he juts his chin with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you don’t know yourself.”

But Geto refuses to be provoked. The gentle smile on his lips speaks volumes. Whole worlds Gojo simply can’t grasp until his best friend throws a few scraps of intelligible language at his feet. “It’s just like when you thought Tengen was bored when cherry blossoms were still blooming in summer.”

And it is this simple sentence that widens Gojo’s eyes.

He remembers that day. His stupid words and the missed opportunity.

-

“I'm suffocating.” The fabric rustled as Geto braced himself against Satoru’s chest to put his head aside.

“Then you should try to take a breath,” Gojo replied nonchalantly. He lowered his head only slowly, so Geto’s black mop of hair and the soothing smell of tangerine hung clearly in the air. “If you push against me any harder, you’ll tear the closet in two.”

“Or I’ll kick you out. I can justify a sacrifice in Masamichi’s honour.”

“Then he’ll find us both. I’m not good at keeping quiet.” Gojo lowered his voice briefly. The approaching footsteps outside forced him to be quiet – all while his heart beat faster and heat clung to his body. The summer months were a nightmare.

Suguru felt it too. Instead of responding, he stopped fighting back and accepted the confinement of the closet they were hiding in to escape Masamichi and his boring teachings. No normal person wanted to do any training under the blazing sun when they could relax in the shade.

The heavy footsteps of their problem shuffled into the classroom. Then silence followed, with only Gojo’s breathing ringing audibly in his ears. The sound of another, the restlessness of a body under whose skin lay absolute self-control. Heat was building up. And when Satoru closed his eyes, the blue sky lay above him, while orange trees adorned the surroundings and Geto lay in his arms.

He immediately opened his eyes again.

What a weird thought. Nothing more. Nothing less.

When the movements outside resumed, Gojo barely held back a sigh of relief. Only when the sliding door closed and the echo in the corridor could no longer be heard did he take a deep breath. Suguru, however, immediately reached for the door and opened the closet before stumbling out. His loud exhalation was almost offensive and, as he propped himself up on his knees, Satoru pushed his lower lip forward.

“I don’t smell that bad!”

“Hah?” Raising his brows in disbelief, Geto glanced over his shoulder before a laugh escaped him. “I’d almost forgotten you’re vain.”

“I’m not vain! Just very sensitive when it comes to me.”

“Spoilt,” Suguru corrected, “and definitely vain.”

Satoru strolled out of the wardrobe in slow steps before stretching. Suguru, meanwhile, straightened up again. He patted off his uniform with the flat of his hands, plucked at his baggy trousers and sighed, as if the sporadic supply of cool air was actually helping him. Then he walked to one of the closed windows of the classroom and pulled it open. The rush of fresh air played around the loose strands of hair on his face, and Gojo’s fingers twitched for a moment. The desire to undo his best friend’s knot and run it through his long, black hair tingled under his skin.

He swallowed. The heat was getting to him. It certainly was. Everything else made no sense.

Inwardly, Satoru shooed the thoughts away as he approached Geto and stood next to him at the window. The fresh air at least made the heat more bearable than the stuffy air in the broom cupboard. At the same time, it was a breeze that brushed Gojo’s cheeks and made him look again at Geto, in whose black hair a pink petal had become entangled.

“Tengen seems to have a weakness for cherry blossom in midsummer. A bit sentimental, if you ask me.” He leaned calmly on the windowsill so he could see Suguru’s face better.

His friend, meanwhile, could only manage a weak smile. “Do you think so? I have to say, it has charm.”

“Aren’t cherry blossoms so popular and special because they only bloom for a short time?”

“Maybe,” Geto replied. “But seconds like these are much more exciting. I mean, no one here knows when the blossoms will fall. Any moment could be the last, and that makes this sight... much more precious, because none of us know when Tengen will grow the next ones.” He turned to Gojo. “The unknown has its own special charms.”

The unknown, huh? The thought overtook Satoru for a breath, in which he blinked. Suguru Geto wasn’t an unknown component in his life, and yet, the strange tingling sensation that kept taking over this summer wasn’t one of the moments they usually experienced. It was something he couldn’t recognise.

A component that made Geto’s dark gaze and the smirk on his lips tantalising. Even in this uniform, which absolutely every student in this place wore, he looked better than most. Not better than himself, but better than anyone else, aside from Satoru.

“Let me guess, you have some stupid comment ready.” In the end, Geto’s lips – no, his words – pulled him out of his observation.

“What are you thinking?” Half distracted, Gojo shrugged his shoulders. “All you need for my clever sayings is a bit of style.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you can take anything seriously.”

Could he? Even for a moment? Gojo’s eyes fixed on Suguru’s lips again. If his best friend demanded him to be serious, maybe-

His thoughts didn’t end before he had already overcome the small distance to Geto to grab him by the chin. Instantly, he forced his head back and before questions could arise and remorse could take shape, Satoru pressed his lips against Suguru’s.

Warmth nestled against Gojo’s senses, washing away every unimportant thought and moving the summer breeze into a shallow image of heartbeat and Geto. Suguru’s mouth moved, twitching, making the soft feeling of strange closeness a little more present. At least until Satoru let go and took a step back. The “very serious” that travelled over his tongue like a breath scratched at his mind; and Suguru’s wide-open eyes made his heart stop for a blink.

“Or not!” Satoru added. The wide grin hurt his cheeks and the hollow laugh coming over him sounded unnatural. His hands clenched into fists. A part of him wanted to run away, but weakness remained his enemy. Satoru Gojo would never run away. Not at any moment. Not even when every fibre of his body was screaming to escape.

“You’re looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost. I told you, you need style for my jokes,” Gojo began again, but the more Suguru’s features relaxed, the darker his gaze seemed. The understanding didn’t seem to reach him and just as Satoru put his hand to the back of his head to avert his gaze and distract him from the topic, his best friend stood in front of him again.

It was just one second. A tiny moment in which so much could have happened.

A slap in the face.

The start of an argument.

Perhaps a punch on the nose, which he probably actually deserved.

Instead, Suguru grabbed him by the collar and the force of him pulling it down took Satoru’s breath away. A puff of air he couldn’t catch, before Suguru’s lips settled on his and the warmth became a strange heat that danced across his face.

Gojo’s eyes widened as the gentle touch between them conjured wild thoughts.

Did Suguru use lip balm?

Did he often kiss someone else?

Why was he kissing Gojo?

Why did Suguru’s tongue glide over his lips without breaking contact for even a moment?

There were no answers – even when Satoru opened his mouth willingly and felt Geto enter him. Their lips remained connected, but the play of tongues unfolding behind them sent lightning bolts throughout his body. It was no cursed energy, no attack, nothing that would kill him – and yet it had strange potential to hurt him in a way that shouldn’t exist.

Still, he tasted Geto, the raspberries he’d nibbled earlier, and felt the tongue circling his, tasting and teasing him as if they were no longer dependent on words.

The seconds trickled past them, passed and although it seemed like an eternity, Satoru realised it had been far too short when Geto broke away from him. What remained was unsteady breathing that left no room for questions. The only thing left was Suguru’s brief shake of his head. He ran a hand over his forehead, brushed the loose strand of hair aside, and looked at him.

“That will never happen again, Satoru,” he decided.

A simple statement, presumably. Between them.

A kind of rule that Gojo couldn’t contradict in those seconds, as he simply nodded.

Just like that.

-

“I still wonder today what came over me that day.” Putting his hand to his chin, Geto seems to think seriously about that time – as if nothing had ever happened. He places the moment they shared as if it was just one of those times you quickly forget.

The only thing giving Gojo certainty when he should usually have the biggest mouth is the shallow blush appearing on the tips of Suguru’s ears.

His hands clenched into fists. It is impossible to count the seconds in which he still thinks about self-control. All that circles his senses is naked failure. Certainty that he made a mistake back then.

He should have disagreed with Geto. A hundred times, if that was what his friend would have needed. Somehow they would have walked this path together and the little things now standing between them like giant walls would have been just a tiny hurdle in all of this.

His heart thumps a little harder against his chest. Seeing Suguru like this, so real and yet so fleeting, dries up Gojo’s throat. This goddamn situation is all his fault, and yet it’s masochistic pleasure clinging to him. His mere memories are probably already a curse.

A snort escapes him. Humans are no less a curse than the creatures they create with their emotions.

“What is amusing you?” It is Suguru who puts the brakes on the hellish thoughts. Chatting is the only salvation in this chaos.

“Nothing special,” replies Satoru, waving his hand. He’s still the cool one of them, no matter how much the breaths sting his chest. He’s not going to die today.

“About your question,” Geto meanwhile picks up again, “I don't resent you. What happened back then ... it was your duty and even if it sounds ironic, I’m glad I died at your hands.” He sighs. “If I had to think of something negative ... it would be that it was disappointing.”

“Disappointing?” Gojo’s brows lift. “Because it was so quick and easy? I’m sorry, but you weren’t able to challenge my cool nature.”

Without further ado, Suguru rolls his eyes before pushing Gojo’s every word away with one hand. “Thankfully.”

Pushing his lower lip forward, Satoru lowers his eyelids. He’s been sulking a little too much lately, and yet Geto keeps arousing that frustration like only a best friend can.

“I’m just disappointed it didn’t work out somehow,” Suguru explains. “With us.”

There are endless things to say in those breaths, but none of them are good enough in Satoru’s eyes. Instead, emptiness spreads through his senses.

Of course it didn’t work out then. He was young and stupid and arrogant and Geto’s best friend. Everything was perfect, and he was a little blind, even though he could see better than anyone else.

Better. Always better.

But he was never able to be honest for more than three seconds.

This time it’s different. His body acts on its own while the words die in his lungs. He reaches out to Geto. The fact he’s just an apparition is probably more of an illusion than the knowledge he can still straighten things out.

If he can just take Suguru in his arms and hold him close...

The narrow smile on Geto’s features invites him. The millimetres separating them are no obstacle.

But when Satoru’s fingers want to meet his friend, he fades away. Geto’s body disappears like a pale illusion. The flame in the background is extinguished. The hair is gone.

What remains is darkness in which no one will see him bite his lower lip and twist his mouth.

No one will notice this faint moment.

Not even him.

[formulatrash]

What do you think of Juri Vips being with RLL at Long Beach? Is it likely that he will get a seat there? I don't know if you even know IndyCar stuffs but I don't know who else to ask 👉👈

I'm undecided of what I should think about him then again he did some sensitivity training and at least he apologised what other people Armstrong or Danny Ric never did. Do you think he should get another shot? You don't have to answer if you're not comfortable was just wondering.

the answer to this is: I don’t know. which makes me lean to the idea he shouldn’t. 

(to my knowledge Daniel actually did apologise, incidentally - I definitely remember it at the time; it wasn’t a stellar apology but it did happen)

with Jüri: a lot of what happened was not about him. Red Bull’s frantic response was not really about a junior driver doing something racist, it was about the fact they were increasingly getting a reputation as a racist team. the speed they acted about Vips was definitely accelerated by someone in Austria having realised there was a marketing consequence to the way the team had become associated with racist fan behaviour. 

that isn’t in any way to defend Vips or say that he shouldn’t have faced consequences: it was absolutely right he did. just that the consequences he faced weren’t particularly about him or what he did so much as they were face-saving for Red Bull to break its association to him. which means that, in addressing what he did or what it means to him, they weren’t necessarily very effective because that was never what it was about.

so a sensitivity course was a way of RB saying ‘we distance ourselves from this, this isn’t our institutional culture even though it is widely documented in the Hamilton commission report that in fact this is endemic to Formula 1′ rather than being something genuinely intended for educating Vips. 

he may have been undertaking more reflection and education since. he hasn’t spoken about it if he has but knowing how to speak publicly in a way that is useful rather than performative about that kind of thing is also not a hugely widely-available skill in motorsport and shutting the fuck up might be better, all things considered.

so the reason I don’t know is: I don’t believe the original consequences Vips faced were intended to teach him anything and I don’t know if he has learned anything since. 

even if he had: motorsport careers end all the time, prematurely. people run out of money and opportunities all the time. there’s always the call of becoming a hanger-on or a team manager or a driver coach (and those are the ones that stay in the industry) just the same cigarette-paper-width away as a barrier you either avoid or cause €180k damage into. 

so there’s no ‘fair’ about whether he comes back or not. it’s an unfair sport. being publicly racist is a better reason to end your career than a lot of the people I’m interviewing for my book who just ran out of ways to carry on. 

is he a good driver? yes, when he doesn’t lose his temper. even before he decided to drop racial slurs he’d been sabotaging his own results by making mistakes when he was in the lead and screwing up under pressure. whether that was the F1 seat being closer than before (I think he likely would’ve got the AlphaTauri seat this year if this hadn’t all happened) or the pressure of running simulator work and FP1s for F1 and then stepping back to the F2 car or the fact Hitech is a pretty aggro team or what, I don’t know. it wouldn’t excuse him being racist whatever it was - plenty of drivers have difficult seasons; Pourchaire’s last year in F2 was pretty mentally brutal but it wouldn’t get him out of dropping slurs. 

and an 11th place finish in F2 doesn’t at least showcase a generational talent, if there happens to be one in him. 

other people - well, person - disgraced for racism in F2 have found a home in IndyCar. Santino Ferrucci seems to have some sort bullet-proof cheque book that means he can come back from anything. I don’t think Vips is anything like as shitty a human being as Ferrucci (who terrorised his Formula 2 team mate with racial abuse, tried to run a Trump-supporting livery and then claimed he can’t be racist because he’s Italian before receiving a year-long PR tour from the IndyCar promoters)

the difference between Vips and Ferrucci - and also Vips and Armstrong, in terms of racers who’ve come out of F2 without stonking results and are looking for an IndyCar seat - is that he doesn’t have any funding. it was why he didn’t go to F2 a few years ago and had a sort of ambling junior career around anywhere Red Bull could find somewhere bargain bucket enough. so I don’t know that he’ll be outbidding anyone for an RLL seat, especially since his name isn’t going to be catnip to sponsors. I know he’s done some testing and is probably gunning for more, a way to impress enough to get seen. 

unfortunately - and I’m not saying this is right, it isn’t - the way that motorsport seats get allocated isn’t fair. it’s not about talent and it’s not about potential and sometimes it’s not even about money. I don’t call the shots on where Vips sits in that decision-making knot and I can’t read the minds of the people that do but there is a regular tendency for people to feel like they need to give white, cishet, male athletes another chance when they’ve faced any kind of consequences for something they’ve done that isn’t afforded to other people.