#but got it for august just to see this doc

[slowestlap]

Max watching Thierry's DTM race during the 2023 Monaco GP | Off the Beaten Track - Viaplay documentary | Ep. 1/3

When I watch my friends racing I'm probably more nervous than I ever am in the car myself. Once you're in control you know what you're doing but then someone else is controlling their job, their driving.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Honey-Sweet and Heavy

3zun extra for Tales From Jianghu Shopping Center - some of y'all were interested in how Meng Yao / 3zun fits into this universe and now, months after I answered the ask about it (I just scrolled to check, it was mid-July holy shit) I'm answering that question with fic! And I'm definitely not procrastinating my schoolwork, nope nope nope!

[Masterpost] [AO3]

-/-

JUNE

As is unfortunately common for Meng Yao’s Wednesday nights, the first thought he has at roughly 8:47pm is hands, hands, hands in a sort of… mildly obsessive loop that only ends when he forces himself to tip his head back enough to instead see (and think) shoulders, shoulders, shoulders . It feels like he has to tip his head back as far as it can go before he finally sees the guy’s face, but unfortunately he’s handsome enough that that’s not much better than drooling over his stupid massive hands, or his even more idiotically broad shoulders.

“Hey,” Gym Guy says, friendly enough around the way he can’t seem to ever talk like he’s isn’t two seconds away from getting pissed off.

“Hey. The usual?” Two loads for the wash. Pre-soak, hot wash, hot rinse, extra rinse on cold, spin dry. One load for the dryer, 80 minutes, extra-dry. No soap needed, he brings his own. Dryer sheets, yes, he never remembers to snag them from his house on his way out.

“Yep.”

Meng Yao has the change – in quarters, of course – for his $10 bill (minus a buck) and a couple of dryer sheets ready to slide across the counter before Gym Guy even pulls out his wallet.

“4 and 5 are free if you want, and you can throw it all in dryer 1 when they’re done washing. The others aren’t running as hot as they should, you’ll probably end up with some stuff still damp otherwise.”

As usual, Gym Guy thanks him with a gruff little nod (that Meng Yao tends to ride the high of for the rest of his shift) before he turns and hauls two enormous canvas bags of laundry through the dingy laundromat like they don’t weigh anything at all. Meng Yao watches him and wonders if the guy could bench press him. He definitely looks like he could, anyway.

Meng Yao allows himself roughly four minutes to watch Gym Guy as he bends over and loads armfuls of towels and a few random odds and ends of clothing into the two industrial-sized washing machines conveniently located straight ahead from the counter behind which he’s perched. Any longer than four minutes and he knows the likelihood of him being able to look away (preferably without getting caught) decreases dramatically, so he never allows himself to look longer.

When his four minutes (and extra forty-seven seconds, he’s had a hard day okay?) are up, Meng Yao regretfully looks away from the shift of Gym Guy’s muscles through his gray t-shirt advertising his gym and goes back to the busy work he’d assigned himself for the night, expressly for the purpose of distracting him from Gym Guy. Not that he doesn’t typically end up doing way more than his job description entails, of course, but Gym Guy is distracting enough that Meng Yao has to actually assign himself something in order to avoid making a fool out of himself.

He settles in to go back to his project with a little creak of the wood-and-vinyl stool underneath him, the clanking of quarters dropping into the metal collection boxes followed by the hum and slosh of first one machine and then the other helping to soothe some of the adrenaline-spiked energy humming under his skin.

So long as Gym Guy stays on the other side of the (admittedly very small) space and minds his own business, Meng Yao can usually tune him out about halfway through the wash cycle, if his task is engrossing enough. This late on a Wednesday night they’re usually the only ones in the laundromat, though every other week one of the nurses from the hospital in town comes in off her back-to-back graveyard shifts to run all of her scrubs through the same sort of sanitizing wash Gym Guy uses for his stuff. She’s cute, Meng Yao has noticed, and she’s always nice, if a little tired around the edges. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t noticed that Gym Guy never bothers flirting with her even when she’d shown tentative interest in him at first.

He’s having a harder time ignoring Gym Guy’s presence tonight, but that’s got more to do with being unable to concentrate as well as he usually can than anything else. Gym Guy is sitting where he always does in one of the too-small plastic chairs by the front windows pretending to pay attention to QVC playing on the small TV up in the corner, perfectly within the usual respectful distance he always keeps. Meng Yao’s just tired tonight, having interrupted his own sleep schedule, such as it is, to finally go and visit his father just on the other side of town earlier this afternoon before the start of his shift. The twinge in his ribs and his hip remind him that he should have probably decided to do it on one of his few days off, but then again he hadn’t exactly expected his father to have him thrown down the front steps without even letting him in the door of his house, either.

At least, he muses in relief, he hadn’t tried to go see him down at Golden Carp. Of course he knows now that his father probably wouldn’t have made such a spectacle out of him if he’d had so many witnesses around that aren’t his immediate family, but then again…a man willing to kick his own son down the stairs where anyone out walking their dog might have seen probably wouldn’t care who sees it anyway. (He supposes that if he had gone to Golden Carp at least there wouldn’t have been any stairs to send him toppling down, but hindsight’s 20/20 and all that.)

It’s just past 9 when the jangling of the phone ringing at the other end of the counter shakes Meng Yao out of his less-than-pleasant contemplation on his sorry lot in life. He winces as he stands from the stool to pick it up, the quiet clatter of the plastic handset against the base barely audible over the sloshing and chugging of Gym Guy’s wash cycles.

“Fitz’s 24-hour Coin-op Laundry,” Meng Yao answers through a hitching breath as his ribs – most likely fractured, he thinks – resettle. “How can I help you?”

Meng Yao has less than a second to brace himself and jerk the receiver away from his face for the sake of his poor eardrum before the owner of the laundromat starts shouting loudly enough at him that he senses Gym Guy’s attention shifting from the TV to him. Great.

He lets the tirade go on for as long as he can stand before he attempts to cut in and maybe, if he’s lucky, defuse the bomb that is his boss’s notorious temper. This time of night he’s probably at least a full 12-pack into his usual 24-pack night, though, so Meng Yao’s hopes aren’t high.

“Mr Jameson - Mr - I didn’t - Mr Jameson I promise it won’t happen again -”

Meng Yao sighs well away from the receiver and turns his back to the rest of the laundromat, the cord stretching across his chest with the movement. He tangles his fingers between a few of the tight curls in it and clutches hard enough that his knuckles ache ever so slightly.

Finally, there’s a long enough break in the vitriol for Meng Yao to hurry and attempt to explain, “Mr Jameson. As I said this afternoon, I apologize for being late. I understand that it created difficulties for Anne, it was not my intention to make her late to pick up her children from daycare. I had a..a family emergency that required medical attention, it won’t be happening aga-“

Meng Yao gives in and hides his eyes behind his free hand as his boss gains a second wind and resumes shouting, something about how that’s no excuse, that unless he’d broken bones himself there was no reason not to be on time (as if on cue, his ribs and hip protest the fact that he’s currently upright and standing on a hard tile-and-concrete floor). Meng Yao attempts several more times to cut in to apologize further, but in the end it’s useless.

He sets the phone down carefully on the countertop and takes two shallow, grounding breaths before turning back to the room at large. It is, mercifully, still only occupied by Gym Guy. 

Unfortunately, Gym Guy is looking right at him – glaring, actually – and Meng Yao ducks his head quickly rather than face that head-on. As quietly as he can he drags his stool and his filing project closer to the phone and settles down again, lips pressed tightly together around the possibility of a pained noise escaping his control. Meng Yao keeps an ear out for convenient places to demur a quiet, “Yes, Mr Jameson,” in between all the slights to his character and his (impeccable, unnecessarily driven, unusual) disappointing work ethic, but for the most part he turns his attention back to his project for something of a distraction.

Eventually, Mr Jameson’s tirade peters out enough for Meng Yao to lift the phone to his ear again and actually get a few words in edgewise. “I’m sorry for my…unsatisfactory behavior, Mr Jameson,” he lies through his teeth, “But please rest assured that I will not allow this to happen again. If you’ll excuse me, I have customers to attend to.”

Meng Yao returns the phone to its cradle before Mr Jameson can rally enough to start again and he closes his eyes in relief, hand still resting on the receiver as he exhales, long and slow just like Meng Shi taught him.

“That happen a lot?” Gym Guy’s voice is a low rumble under the sloshing of the washing machines and a too-chipper bottle blonde on the TV espousing the many benefits of a Casio label printer (“Look how easy it could be to label all your folders in just a couple easy steps!” If he had 90 bucks he’d buy the thing in a heartbeat).

“Me being late or Mr Jameson yelling?”

“The yelling. You don’t seem the type to run late.”

“The yelling, pretty regularly, yes, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. As for running late – I don’t. Ever . Today I just…”

“Family emergency.” Gym Guy nods like he gets it, like he knows exactly what happened despite Meng Yao not breathing a word of it to anyone at all. “No explanation needed as far as I’m concerned, especially if it’s not something you make a habit out of.”

Meng Yao blinks and tries to think of something clever to say, but between such a long stressful day and Gym Guy’s close proximity outside of their typical routine when he first arrives and Meng Yao can be prepared for it, Meng Yao’s thoughts are feeling a little too scrambled to be very clever at the moment.

“Right. Yeah. Thanks..?” Meng Yao trails off a little with a bit of a leading tone in his voice, and finally - after a frankly embarrassingly long time - Gym Guy seems to realize that they don’t actually know each other. He hurries to stick out one of his stupid enormous hands that Meng Yao has his little weekly crises over, and Meng Yao can’t be sure but it looks like his cheeks might be just a touch pink in the unflattering glow of the halogen lights overhead.

“Nie Mingjue.”

Meng Yao slips his hand into Nie Mingjue’s and absolutely does not have a second, slightly smaller crisis over how small his own palm is in comparison. That’s just the same crisis in a different flavor, it barely counts.

“Well thank you, Nie Mingjue.”

“Anytime.”

Gym Guy – Nie Mingjue, he mentally corrects himself, though he’s pretty sure he’ll always be ‘Gym Guy’ in his head – goes back to his seat by the TV set, Meng Yao returns to his filing, and just like that their usual weekly pattern resumes.

Right up until Nie Mingjue leaves a business card behind on his way out, with what seems to be a pager number scribbled on the back with the same shitty blue ballpoint pen Glenda down the street uses for her crosswords every Sunday evening.

-/-

“Let me get this straight,” Lan Xichen begins, poorly concealing a laugh behind his indulgent smile, and Nie Mingjue grumbles at him as he focuses on flipping a massive pancake with an expert flick of his wrist.

“Must you?”

“Well yes, darling, because it’s a bit unclear. You went to do the gym laundry on Wednesday evening like usual, yes?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue agrees begrudgingly, with the feeling that he’s walking into a trap.

“And the same young man who always mans the counter was there, but he seemed like he wasn’t feeling well?”

“No, he looked like he was injured . He wasn’t moving right.” Nie Mingjue ignores the amused little hum Lan Xichen offers in response to that. (It’s not weird to know how someone moves! It’s his job to make sure he keeps an eye on how people are moving, to make sure that he can prevent injuries before they happen or else prevent existing injuries from worsening. It’s normal!)

“So he was injured, but you didn’t ask about it because it would be rude and possibly a little…alarming to tell him that you’ve noticed him moving differently than usual. That much I understand. And then he got a phone call?”

Nie Mingjue grunts an assent before he elaborates. “Sounded like it was Mark Jameson. Fucking hate that guy.” The pancake takes the brunt of his irritation as he flips it perhaps too aggressively onto the plate waiting next to the griddle. He places a few sliced strawberries beside it much less aggressively and turns to set the plate in front of his boyfriend where he’s perched at the bar counter, and the kiss to his cheek Lan Xichen gives him soothes him only a little.

“And this would be the Mark Jameson who makes a nuisance of himself at every City Commerce Board meeting, and is generally belligerent to anyone and everyone no matter the circumstances?”

“That’s the one.”

“I see. So Mark Jameson, the belligerent drunk who owns the laundromat whom you hate, called to yell at this very polite and wonderful young man whom you quite like – who always knows precisely what you want without you having to say it anymore after having only told him once before, nearly a year ago. And Mr Jameson berated him for upwards of 20 minutes within your hearing?”

Nie Mingjue glares daggers at the new circle of batter bubbling sluggishly on the only functional hot spot on the griddle, mildly pissed that it isn’t ready to flip yet so he can’t vent his anger that way again so soon.

“Yes. And then like I already said , Meng Yao told me that Jameson yells at him all the time despite the fact that every time I see him he’s doing exactly what it seems like he should be – and more! He’s always doing something to keep himself busy, not just reading a magazine or watching the TV to pass the time, even when it’s just the two of us in there and I clearly don’t need anything.”

“And so you offered him a job instead…to get him away from Mr Jameson?”

Nie Mingjue huffs and feels his neck heat up because, well…Lan Xichen does have a point in not being able to follow the thread from there. Because no, Nie Mingjue hadn’t.. quite ..offered him a job.

“I left my card,” he mutters and flips the pancake even though it’s still too early. Almost half of it sticks to the griddle he’d forgotten to grease between pancakes, but since he’ll be eating this one he doesn’t bother caring. “With my number on it.”

“The landline at the gym?”

“...My beeper.”

There’s a beat of silence save for the quiet sizzle of his pancake, and then Lan Xichen bursts into delighted giggles so infectious that Nie Mingjue can’t even be upset with him. It is fairly ridiculous after all, especially since he hadn’t even given Meng Yao the card directly but had instead just left it on the seat he always uses, the one with the best view of the TV up in the corner as well as the farthest from the counter to avoid possibly making Meng Yao uncomfortable when they’re alone late into the evenings.

He flips his pancake onto the second waiting plate and lets Lan Xichen douse it in syrup and whipped cream for him – their shared tendency to eat healthily is nowhere to be seen when they eat breakfast together at the Nie house (and need the extra calories anyway) – and thankfully then Lan Xichen is too busy kissing whipped cream and sugared strawberry juice from his lips to bother him anymore about his awkward attempts at getting Meng Yao out of what’s clearly a tough spot.

But then, come Monday morning, he discovers that for some reason it actually worked .

“Nie Mingjue,” Meng Yao greets him when Nie Mingjue shows up at 6:30am on the dot to start getting the gym ready to open at 7. He’s standing in front of the doors, hands clasped tightly together in front of him, anxiety written into every line of his body as Nie Mingjue approaches.

“Meng Yao.”

They stare at each other for a moment in the clammy early June humidity already clinging to the small of Nie Mingjue’s back before Meng Yao sucks in a sharp breath and sticks a hand out between them, Nie Mingjue’s business card pinched neatly between his first two fingers.

“Nie Mingjue, I’m flattered and everything but-”

“Come work for me.”

Nie Mingjue blinks as the half-finished rejection registers, and Meng Yao blinks up at him looking both similarly startled and just as uncertain how to proceed.

“Excuse me?” Meng Yao finally manages with his usual smile pinched into place. Nie Mingjue clears his throat and comforts himself with the fact that the Unclean Realm is the earliest business in the strip mall to open, so no one in this gossiping little micro-community he has to see on a daily basis is present to witness him already blundering his way through something that should be so simple.

“I can tell you work hard, and your memory seems pretty fucking good. Jameson’s an asshole who can’t see a good thing when he’s staring one right in the face, let alone appreciate what he’s got, so..if you’re interested…”

“A job,” Meng Yao repeats in a way that should probably be a question. Nie Mingjue nods just in case it was meant to be one even though it didn’t quite sound like it. “Here. Doing what, exactly?”

Nie Mingjue shrugs a bit and crosses his arms over his chest, though he drops them again instantly (Lan Xichen has told him it makes him look intimidating, and the last thing he wants to do is scare Meng Yao off). “Front of house? I run a few courses throughout the week, but it��s hard to find time to do all the administrative parts of it when I’m also running the classes and doing personal training sessions in between them. Members can pay their dues any day throughout the month, which can get tough to keep track of amongst everything else. I’ve got electricity bills and rent to pay, documents from the last…oh, ten years or so? that should really be filed properly…”

Nie Mingjue trails off into amused silence at the downright dreamy look that’s crept over Meng Yao’s expression. It takes a few long seconds – in which a single rustbucket car passes by on the main road off to the left already blaring something loud and grungy despite the hour – before Meng Yao seems to give himself a little shake and the dreamy expression is gone, replaced by his usual polite smile.

“I was under the impression that your brother assists you?” Meng Yao asks, and Nie Mingjue is once again impressed with his ability to recall even the most insignificant details he’d probably mentioned in passing months or more ago.

“Stick around and try it out for a week and you’ll understand exactly why I need you instead.”

That dreamy look slips back in for a fraction of a second before it’s gone again so quickly Nie Mingjue wonders if he imagined it. Between one second and the next, though, Meng Yao is once again holding out his hand, although this time there’s nothing caught between his fingers. Cautiously, mildly afraid of spooking him, Nie Mingjue reaches across the distance between them to shake Meng Yao’s hand a couple times.

“When should I start?” Meng Yao asks. Nie Mingjue can’t do anything at all to stop the smug smirk that twitches at the corner of his lips at the thought of telling Lan Xichen he didn’t actually fuck this up at all.

“Soon as you want? I don’t think Mark Jameson is the kind of bastard who deserves a two-week notice and it’s not like I’ll be calling him for a reference anyway, but I’ll leave that up to you.”

“I’d like to not burn bridges if I don’t have to, so I’ll at least work out a week’s notice, if that’s alright?” Meng Yao hedges, nervous around the edges. “And I’m assuming this isn’t another night shift gig-”

Nie Mingjue winces just a little and shakes his head, abruptly remembering that while his day’s just beginning, at this time of morning Meng Yao must be practically ready to pass out after a full shift through the night at the laundromat.

“Days, yeah. You don’t have to come in as early as I do if you don’t want to, though.”

Meng Yao hums without comment, but Nie Mingue thinks he can safely assume, even from the little that he knows about the other man, that he’ll be there every morning at 6:30, on the dot, just like him.

“And next week works just fine,” Nie Mingjue adds to be on the safe side. Meng Yao’s shoulders relax a little more and Nie Mingjue finds himself feeling a little smug about that too. It’s a nice feeling to know he can actually make someone feel relaxed (besides Lan Xichen, everyone else tends to get a bit…wary when he’s around. Even [or maybe especially] his own brother).

“Will you need an extra day or two after to get your sleep schedule switched around?”

“I can fix it quickly. I’ll be in a week from today.”

Meng Yao leaves just like that with a sweet smile up at him in parting, seeming…lighter than he has every other time their paths have crossed. Nie Mingjue watches him go with something like satisfaction tugging at the corner of a little smile of his own.

Lan Xichen’s poorly-concealed surprise (and his fond amusement) when Nie Mingjue tells him the news is only surpassed by the betrayed glare Nie Huaisang gives him when he tells his brother he’s being replaced (but that it does not give him an excuse to stop showing up at the gym entirely!).

-/-

AUGUST

It somehow always manages to catch Lan Xichen by surprise that the hottest days of summer are so late in the year. When June sweeps in on thunderheads and blistering winds after the cool rains of May it seems like that must be the hottest the days will become, sticky and threatening with rumbles off in the distance, felt more than heard. Or when July burns hot enough to turn the sky white and the asphalt cracks apart between puddles of shimmering heat, and the kids from the apartments down the street all dare each other to see if they can really fry an egg on the blacktop before Madam Yu or Lan Qiren chases them off with a round of scolding – surely those days are the peak of summer?

But then August comes, with its golden days that melt into molasses evenings, the sun rising in a flurry of hot winds and lingering high overhead for long hours, refusing to set properly until well after the fireflies have settled back into the rustling yellowed grass for the night and the trees are holding their breath, waiting for the brief respite of a hot sticky night before the sun burns overhead again.

Lan Xichen stands at the front windows of Cloud Recesses and looks across the foreboding expanse of the parking lot – that reminds him of nothing today so much as the griddle Nie Mingjue makes them pancakes on every Sunday morning – towards the squat bulk of the Unclean Realm Fitness Center with a sort of restless itching under his skin that he doesn’t think he can blame on the thin layer of sweat-salt dusting his back and arms.

“I’d like to have dinner at Lotus Pier tonight,” he tells Lan Qiren when his Uncle finishes locking up the safe in the back for the night. “I heard from Wangji that they made a big batch of liang mian for lunch and offered the leftovers to anyone who wants them for dinner tonight.”

Lan Qiren just nods and glares out at the heat mirages winking in the cups and dips of the parking lot that’s badly in need of re-tarring it’ll probably never see. “I’ll make some tonight with cucumber and sesame for you and Wangji to eat tomorrow, you shouldn’t eat anything hot with the weather like this.”

“Thank you, Uncle, that would be appreciated.”

“Hmph. Be home by midnight.”

“Yes Uncle,” Lan Xichen agrees easily. Perhaps most would think he should chafe at being in his 20’s and still beholden to a curfew, but anyone who would think such things wouldn’t have had Lan Qiren for a guardian as a teenager and known how short the leash could be. (Besides, he knows his Uncle can’t sleep until he and Wangji are both home safe, and the curfew is more out of courtesy to him and his sleep schedule than it is any desire to control Lan Xichen’s freedom too much.)

Lan Qiren offers another nod and allows Lan Xichen to open the door for him, heat billowing into the cold vacuum of the shop and heating Lan Xichen’s face. They live close enough to the Jianghu Center to walk to and from work, and so Lan Xichen lingers there at the windows until he sees Lan Qiren disappear across the street and around the corner, headed for their tree-dense neighborhood, and only then does he turn his attention back to the windowed front of the Unclean Realm – where he spots Meng Yao’s teasing glance through the door over the sign he deftly flips over to ‘Closed’ with a smile.

Lan Xichen does not, as a general rule, scramble . Lan Qiren raised him and Lan Wangji to carry themselves with dignity. They even both took ballet lessons as children to help with such important things as grace, and balance, and giving Lan Qiren free time three evenings a week to gossip with the aunties who run the Asian market down the street.

He does, however, hurry (gracefully) to finish locking up the shop and head across the parking lot to that beckoning gaze, the lingering heat of the day settling under his skin like the pleased flush already darkening his ears.

“Hello A-Yao,” he greets as warmly as the air outside as he shuts and locks the door to the gym behind himself.

“Hi Er-ge. You’re so…prompt,” Meng Yao teases him with a smile and a pointed tap of a sheaf of papers on his desk to align them. Lan Xichen can’t even remotely deny it, so instead he shrugs (gracefully) and offers up an unapologetic smile.

“Where’s A-Sang?”

“Jiang Cheng took him out for dinner and then they’re going to the arcade, I believe.”

“Didi’s been running his mouth off for weeks about getting the highest score in Dragon’s Lair, so Jiang Cheng told him he has to either do it again to prove it or else shut the fuck up,” Nie Mingjue calls through the open door to his office behind the front desk. “And we’re all very grateful.”

“I see,” Lan Xichen laughs with a lift of his chin and Meng Yao dimples up at him so sweetly that Lan Xichen doesn’t resist the urge to lean over the vinyl counter displaying the gym’s name and logo to press a shy kiss to his cheek. This… thing that the three of them are apparently doing for real – for the long haul – is still new enough that it sets his stomach fluttering each time he remembers he’s allowed to show such little affections, and judging by the way Meng Yao blushes he’s similarly shy but equally as pleased to be doted on.

He leaves Meng Yao tidying up his workspace for the evening and continues on into Nie Mingjue’s office to give his other boyfriend a kiss to his cheek as well, one that’s more comfortable, like coming home at the end of a long day, but no less thrilling for the mundanity of it.

“Hi,” Nie Mingjue greets, happy and soft around the edges, so Lan Xichen kisses him again on his forehead and lingers long enough to taste the salt on his skin. Their air conditioner has long since been fixed, of course, but Meng Yao’s administrative skills (and eagerness to help with any other tasks that need doing) means that Nie Mingjue is now able to teach classes all day long, and no amount of AC in the world can completely combat the sort of rigorous workout Nie Mingjue now gets on a daily basis.

“Hello darling. Will I go get things set up out back?”

“Yeah sure, but there’s not much to do. The chairs are still set up from last time, just need the noodles from next door. A-Yao’s already got the Igloo under the desk stocked up, I’ll take it out when we’re done in here.”

Lan Xichen, pleased to have a task that’ll help keep him from distracting either of his boyfriends as they finish up for the day, heads over to Lotus Pier to snag the noodles Jiang Yanli had at some point this afternoon portioned out nicely for everyone in the shopping center in a small army of takeout containers topped with paper-wrapped chopsticks, and he makes sure to thank her as he snags the containers labeled for his family, the Nie brothers, and Meng Yao. She gives him a wave and a sweet smile from over the sizzling wok she’s dutifully manning despite the heat of the day, but in the interest of not distracting her during the start of the dinner rush he doesn’t linger for a chat like he otherwise might. As he crosses back over to the gym he’s pleased to hear the rattling and creaking of the deck chairs Nie Mingjue now keeps stashed outside the utility door for evenings just like this.

Lan Xichen rounds the corner of the building and smiles to see Nie Mingjue just getting settled into his preferred seat, a lounger that someone (probably the Jiang brothers during an ill-advised nighttime spree with Nie Huaisang) stole from the local pool. Wherever it came from, it now serves as a perfect place for Nie Mingjue to stretch out his tired muscles and soak up the honey heat of the evening to relax. Lan Xichen lingers just out of sight to watch Meng Yao smile at him as he perches in his lap to pass him a beer, the brown glass bottle already covered in citrine crystals, droplets of condensation reflecting the same sun that limns them both in late-summer gold.

“Ah, our beloved hero returns,” Meng Yao says happily when he spots him. “And with enough noodles to feed an entire army, Da-ge!”

“They’re not all for us, but I figured it’s no use bothering them twice during the dinner rush to fetch everyone else’s,” Lan Xichen answers magnanimously with a little slap to Nie Mingjue’s grasping hand reaching for the container marked ‘Teacher Lan’. He doles out the proper containers quickly, sets the rest safely out of reach of Nie Mingjue pinned under Meng Yao, and settles into his creaking chair with a happy sigh, more than content to enjoy their presence as they eat together in companionable silence.

Unsurprisingly, Nie Mingjue finishes his portion first. Lan Xichen watches in amused silence as he sets his container aside, drains his beer in a few long pulls with swallows that make his pronounced adam’s apple bob, and then sets that aside as well to leave his hands free to start feeling up Meng Yao almost lazily. Lan Xichen settles in with one leg crossed primly over the other, elbows on the hard metal arms of his pool chair, and smirks around his next bite to see Meng Yao pout and swat half-heartedly at Nie Mingjue’s shamelessly roaming hands.

“I’m eating , Da-ge,” he scolds, his wrist in front of his lips to attempt to stay polite while talking with his mouth full, and Nie Mingjue’s happy chuckling settles something deep in Lan Xichen’s chest. He’d worried when they’d started this that he would grow jealous after spending so long pursuing his best friend and having really only just caught him for keeps, but so far he’s only been happy that there’s one more person in Nie Mingjue’s life who can make him laugh and feel as adored as he deserves (and who laughs and allows them to adore him in return, as well). 

“I’m not stopping you from eating, A-Yao, and this is your fault for flirting with me all day when I couldn’t do anything about it anyway.”

“I was not flirting , I was picking up after your class of heathens left their pads and foam blocks all over the floor!”

“And how did you know which incident I was talking about specifically if you weren’t sticking your ass out on purpose to rile me up, huh?”

Lan Xichen laughs out loud then and leans forward, stands up just enough to duck in and press a conciliatory kiss to Meng Yao’s cheek while he grumbles half-heartedly and stabs his chopsticks into his noodles with more viciousness than they deserve.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t stop his wandering hands but Meng Yao doesn’t protest again, he simply finishes his dinner quickly and sets his container aside to turn and lounge back against Nie Mingjue’s broad chest properly with every visible effort to get comfortable, sinking into him and cracking open a water bottle to sip on carefully as dusk falls soft and purple-blue around them.

“Xichen, c’mere,” Nie Mingjue eventually mumbles when he finishes his own portion. There’s no question anymore about how they’ll all fit together – Meng Yao parts his legs enough to give him room to straddle Nie Mingjue’s thighs just above his knees, and then Meng Yao brings his legs back in to drape them over Lan Xichen’s thighs in turn, the three of them tangling together easily to the tune of the complaining creaks from sun-bleached vinyl straps and the metal frame of the chair. 

Lan Xichen ignores the furniture’s protest in favor of leaning in to kiss his partners indiscriminately, lips catching on and skating across sun- and blush-warmed skin. Meng Yao’s delicate ear. The tip of Nie Mingjue’s nose. Nie Mingjue’s lips first, then Meng Yao’s when he turns his head to seek him out for his turn.

He and Nie Mingjue have fit together seamlessly since the day they both realized they want to, but there’s something special about having Meng Yao between them like this, soft and warm and trusting in the hazy dark. The streetlamps out in the parking lot and down by the road click on with their low electrical fizzing buzz, but here behind the gym, among the plumbing pipes and their new hulking AC units now silent for the night to save electricity, there’s none of that harsh orange glow. There’s only the three of them in the slowly-oozing night, comfortable in their shadows and the sticky August gloaming, too hot to be so close but unwilling to part for long enough to let the breeze cool them into getting comfortable again.

Nie Mingjue’s hands skate up and down Lan Xichen’s back, his sides. Meng Yao’s hands tangle in his hair, cup the back of his neck. Lan Xichen kisses them both with lazy appreciation, his entire world narrowed down to the two men underneath him that he hopes know how much he loves them, even though Meng Yao is such a recent (but vital) addition to their relationship.

True night falls as they make out and they pay it no mind tangled up together, trading kisses and quiet laughter and anecdotes about their days all with the same ease in their first perfect August together.

-/-

BONUS

“It’s alright, A-Cheng, I promise,” Nie Huaisang wheedles as he unlocks the door to the gym and drags his newly-minted boyfriend (!) into the dark, absolute except for the squares of dull orange cutting through the gloom from the streetlamps out in the parking lot. He drags Jiang Cheng quickly, eagerly away from the front windows and further into the darkened building, more than confident in his ability to wend his way through the obstacles of machines and equipment without injury.

“You’re sure your brother isn’t here?” Jiang Cheng asks, dubious, and Nie Huaisang wishes the lights were on so his boyfriend (!!) could see him pouting at him over his shoulder for his lack of trust.

“I told you, he always goes straight home after he locks up! He’s always talking about responsibility and duty and ‘eating a hearty dinner’ and ‘getting enough rest’. So boring! But good for us now, I suppose, so maybe I can forgive him.”

“How kind of you,” Jiang Cheng says dryly enough Nie Huaisang doesn’t have to be able to see him to know he’s rolling his eyes at him.

“I know! I’m the best didi, aren’t I?”

“You’re something alright,” Jiang Cheng mutters under his breath, but he squeezes Nie Huaisang’s hand tightly and then brings it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles, which is just so unbelievably sweet that Nie Huaisang can forgive him his sass. (As if it isn’t part of what he likes so much about Jiang Cheng anyway.)

“Come on, we’ll just grab some soda and head out back, okay? No one’ll look for us out there, even if Da-ge does happen to come back out here for some reason tonight.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng shrugs easily, so trusting. Nie Huaisang squeezes his hand back and guides him through the gym, steals a few cans of Coke from the fridge under the front desk by feel, and manages to sneak a kiss when he straightens back up. He tows Jiang Cheng through the gym while his boyfriend (!!!) recovers from such a devastating surprise attack, and Nie Huaisang is so busy being pleased with himself that he wouldn’t have even stopped at the back door had Jiang Cheng not tugged on his hand and hissed a frantic, “ Wait, stop, A-Sang! ”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, bewildered, and then his eyes make sense of what he can see through the glass-paneled back door and he barely manages to stifle his yelp in the back of Jiang Cheng’s hand still laced with his own.

The space behind the gym is as dark as he’d expected it to be – he’d brought Jiang Cheng here for a reason after all – so the tangled mess of limbs and disheveled clothing looks a bit like some sort of eldritch Lovecraftian monster before it crystalizes into the distinct forms of his brother making out with not one but two men, who he quickly identifies as Meng Yao by his gray Unclean Realm t-shirt and Lan Xichen by his white Cloud Recesses polo practically glowing in the dark.

“Whoa,” Jiang Cheng breathes from over his shoulder, and Nie Huaisang finds he suddenly understands how Nie Mingjue feels every time he’s confronted with Nie Huaisang’s interest in erotica. There is nothing chaste about the way Nie Mingjue has his hands hiked up under Lan Xichen’s shirt or the way Meng Yao is rolling his hips in between the two of them, and Nie Huaisang feels like his face is on fire.

“Oh my god. Oh no,” he breathes, despairing. “A-Cheng…I think my brother fucks .”

Jiang Cheng snorts at that and releases his hand to swat his ass lightly. “Clearly. So…what now? Your place is clearly unoccupied considering what we’re looking at.”

Nie Huaisang swallows and tears his gaze away from the spectacle he wishes he’d never seen and momentarily tables his fantasy of burning the deck chairs Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian had stolen for him when he’d complained about having nowhere to sit outside to hang out with them.

“A-Cheng,” he whines, pleading. “This is a crisis !”

“A-Sang, you’re the horniest person I’ve ever met,” Jiang Cheng snorts, and now that Nie Huaisang has turned to look at him he can see just how hard his boyfriend (!!!!) is trying not to laugh at his torment. “What’s the big deal? That he fucks more than you?”

“Oh and if you walked in on your parents like that -” he jams his thumb over his shoulder towards the three out back- “You’d be totally cool and ready to do it with me two seconds later?”

Jiang Cheng’s expression twists in distaste and Nie Huaisang knows his point has been thoroughly made, so there’s no need to gloat about it.

“Ugh. Ew. Take me home, A-Cheng, my delicate constitution can’t handle this. I’m in shock. Shock, I tell you. Come take care of me.”

“You’re so weird,” Jiang Cheng mutters but takes his hand again anyway and they hurry to leave the gym – and Nie Mingjue’s shocking sex life – far enough behind them for Nie Huaisang to pretend he never had to witness it in the first place.

[foxmulderautism]

that post i made on my writeblr about how there's this one story i have out with a mag that i want rejected because i have a story i think suits the mag better.....live cam footage of me receiving the rejection email on my rainy evening walk

[thebibliosphere]

Hey! I know that this isn't something you struggle with but since a lot of your other followers are disabled as well, it would mean a lot to me if you could publish this ask since I'd like to see if anyone else experiences anything similar to what I'm going through. I'm not asking for anyone to armchair diagnose me, I'd just appreciate not feeling so alone and scared and confused. My general physician is claiming that my anxiety is causing the issues I'll describe but I call bullshit on that:

About two years ago, cca 4 months after my top surgery, my body stopped being able to process oil. Whenever I'd eat anything that was made with oil of any kind, I'd get cramps in the abdomen after a while and I'd get diarrhea. Caffeine started to do this also but in a smaller intensity. I had a hysterectomy a bit after that and they checked my kidneys and liver so I know that those are both ok and not the cause. I also got checked for Celiac since it runs in the family. Because the issue wasn't getting worse and my then general physician was always dismissive, I let it be. When I wasn't having diarrhea, I was constipated, though I did have a bowel movement like once or twice a week. Fast forward to now. In August, it suddenly got a lot worse. At first, even a single drop of oil would make me feel ill. Then, the time period got longer - currently the cramps and the pain last for 48 hours afterwards. I also became unable to digest animal fats, the only meat I can eat is lean chicken and fish. Afterwards, gluten became an issue (Celiac is still negative), and then nuts as well.

My new GP, even though she believes it to be anxiety, gave me Itopride, and it worked for about 3 weeks - I had no cramps, pain, exhaustion, gas or bloating after eating, and I had a bowel movement once a day. But it stopped working two days ago, again without a reason, and the effects started being less effective about a week ago. Even when taking the meds, I have a movement only once in about 8 days, and laxatives make me gassy but nothing happens. I'm also not sure about this, but it seems that chicken is no longer safe either.

I think it's important that if I don't take Itopride, I never even feel the urge to go, so when I say that I've always been constipated, I mean that I don't even feel the need to have a movement. Lately, when I take Itopride, I do get the urge that I do always get when taking it, but it's like I can't go, so I always feel full.

I just feel super scared and I have no idea what's going on. I admit that I have a history of eating disorders (in recovery since May) and I did abuse laxatives about a year ago, but I don't think it was enough to cause such serious issues? I used to take them like once a week and for about 3-4 months.

I'd really appreciate knowing if anyone has ever experienced anything similar or knows about anything like this because I feel like my life is in shambles - can't go outside for long because I might need the toilet suddenly, or I'm in too much pain to walk, I'm afraid to eat, I often feel repulsive, I don't know what might happen in a month, I am becoming incapable of taking care of myself and my flat because I'm just so goddamn tired.

Ooft, I’m sorry. It sounds like you’ll need a colonoscopy to figure this one out, so if you haven’t had one yet, really push for a referral.

Fwiw, I do experience something like this, but it’s from mast cell inflammation in my GI tract. The doc prescribed me bentyl for when things flare up but I’m also on a fiber supplement (citrucel. It’s a lot gentler than other types) to try and keep that from happening. Also if you’re low on b vitamins, your stomach sometimes stops digesting food, so maybe also ask about getting your levels checked. Taking an additional b2 supplement means I can process fats and oils again which I couldn’t before.

I’m not saying this to be like “this is what you have” just throwing them out there as suggestions that might help you piece together what might be wrong.

I hope you get more helpful comments in the notes 💖

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

MIDNIGHT CINDERELLA MEMORIAL POST

The Midnight Cinderella app will be closed on Monday August 26th, 2024 (5 PM JST). The English version was actively updated from 2014 to 2021 when Cybird announced the ceasing of operations for MidCin, but the app remained accessible until today. I'm sure I'm not the only one who mourns the loss of it even after all these years of discontinuation, so I wanted to put together a post to properly say goodbye to it. Trying my best not to make it all too sappy - I'd rather look at it as a show that reached its final episode. Some things might be left unresolved but in the end, you remember the cast and the emotions they made you feel more than the actual plot. Nowadays there arguably may be better titles by Cybird out there, but for me, the simplicity of MidCin was what made the details so memorable.

1. VIDEO - POV: You're playing Midnight Cinderella (for 10 minutes)

The 10-minute version (without sound) is accessible via the link above (opens in Google Docs) This one I was really excited about recording! It's just your normal day playing midcin, I'm sure many will find it nostalgic and comforting. You log in, claim your daily bonus (I used the chance to do a present box reveal, 90+ items, many of which you might recognize from route grace checks), play the garden gacha (in my case, I used up all the points I had accumulated, 7800 which equals 39 solos), do your princess lessons, change your avatar, greet your friends, read 1/5 of today's free story parts, check the ranking and your stats, look at your memories directory. The video has no sound, as the game wouldn't let me turn it on (you will see me try to do so throughout the video...) but later on I got it to work so I recorded a one-minute video (the one imported above) of me replenishing stamina just for those iconic sound effects that you either loved or absolutely couldn't stand the volume of, haha.

2. A Midnight Cinderella playlist (spotify link)

While I wasn't there for the early days of midcin, the songs I associated with the game almost always captured this very specifically nostalgic 90s-10s period, you'll see what I mean. Many of those are taken from 8track playlists dedicated to Midnight Cinderella, and if I'm not mistaken you can still look at what is left of them if you search them up. Others are just my very random interpretations of the route stories and the characters.

3. Fic recommendations

We have a lovely community of creatives and there are still so many works left behind which you can check out on the tags! But especially for fics I wanted to list some that truly touched me during the years (all links open in ao3) -

i'm on fire and its NSFW bonus scene bloodstream by a deleted user - words are not enough for this one. It's like it meant more than Nico's whole route for me at one point, and the songs are forever in my heart as Nico songs...

MidCin Works by DBMidCin (SoftSen) - ALL of these. This is my go-to collection of writings for midcin when I start to miss the game, it has a little bit of everything. The headcanon of Giles teaching his girls French for instance is one of the things I still remember reading like it was yesterday!

Bedroom Etiquette (NSFW) by RubyLeeRay - Because this is the dream. Doing something forbidden with your tutor Giles is the ultimate fantasy, I swear. I just love it.

And of course, many, many more. There are currently 166 works on the midcin tag in Ao3, and I'm sure there are a lot of hidden gems here on tumblr as well! Reminder that writers LOVE it when you interact with their old works, it's not weird, you shouldn't hesitate doing so if you find yourself enjoying any of them! <3

4. My own humble collection of MidCin writings on my writing blog @xxsycamore!

Maid, Butler, Chamberlain (NSFW) - Nico x MC with Giles joining them

Grabbles: 💋 Demand for a kiss, right here, right now (GILES); 👔 Stealing their clothes to cuddle when you miss them (BYRON); more coming soon as there are still some in my askbox and I plan on including midcin in future short writings request openings too.

Shared Moments (NSFW) - Nico x Reader - Secret relationship

Ice-cold heat (NSFW) - Byron x Reader - Temperature play

Double the Surprise - Alyn and Leo birthday fic

Leo Crawford having a misadventure with a cat (ao3 link) - crack fic featuring most of the suitors

5. Out of context Midnight Cinderella screenshots

This is a sideblog of mine dedicated to posting out-of-context funny screenshots that I took while playing the routes - @oocmidcin . If you have some of your own that are not on there, you're free to submit them and add to the archive!

6. The perfect MidCin song - The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives

When I first discovered this song back in 2020 I dreamed of making it into a midcin music video with simplistic art and animations... It ended up being just something you daydream in detail about while in the car, but that's alright. I could at least share my vision with you! Disclaimer, this is just an interpretation and obviously it can't fit all characters ideally - In the brackets, I explain how the lyric is related to them and usually it reveals their backstories. Some of the details I've already forgotten, sorry if it's inaccurate.)

Tell me once again

I could have been anyone, anyone else

Before you made the choice for me

(Giles - his family making the choice for him since birth and later disowning him once he failed to become a knight due to his illness)

My feet knew the path

We walked in the dark, in the dark

I never gave a single thought to where it might lead

(Nico - wandering the streets with his mother once they were thrown out of Stein castle because she was a commoner having an affair with Byron's father, the King)

All those empty rooms

We could have been anywhere, anywhere else

Instead I made a bed with apathy

(Robert - the empty rooms of the once flourishing palace of the country that Robert ruled and led to demise, nowadays becoming a mere court painter)

My heart knew the weight

Ten years' worth of dust and neglect

We made our peace with weariness and let it be

(Leo - the years in which Alyn didn't speak to him, after the death of their parents)

The moon will sing a song for me

I loved you like the sun

Bore the shadows that you made

With no light of my own

(Albert - loyally standing in king Byron's shadow)

Name your courage now

We could have had anything, anything else

Instead you hoarded all that's left of me

(Sid - his relationship with his fiance that he agreed upon just to find out more about his parents by getting close to her father)

Swallowing your doubt

Like swords to the pit of my belly

I want to feel the fire that you kept from me

(Alyn - searching for answers about the murder of his family and the fire that burnt down their home)

I shine only with the light you gave me

(I could have been anyone, anyone)

(Louis - being a nobody and MC being his sun)

7. It goes on

I went to read what I could of chapter 4 of Rayvis' route, using my last two chapter tickets as well, thinking it won't make me cry. And then I'm hit with those familiar things.

So let's close this with a word about the things that never change in the universe of Midnight Cinderella.

Stumbling down the grand staircase and right into the arms of somebody. Escaping the palace at midnight with Nico's help. Sitting at breakfast with Giles giving you your schedule for the day. Nico's teasing little smile as he accompanies you everywhere and listens to your relationship troubles. The way he's just a little suspicious at times. Finding Robert painting in the garden of Wysteria palace. Going to the room of your chosen suitor for the first time and meeting a pet there. Leo teaching you history and politics in his office. Dance lessons with Louis. Needing those dance lessons because King Byron is coming to Wysteria and a ball is going to take place. The bureaucrats being unhappy with you as a princess elect, no matter what. Galloping on a horse with Alyn who just protected you from an enemy attack. Getting information from a certain flirty merchant at a bar. Albert bickering with Nico, Sid teasing Louis. Being introduced to Archduke Herneit at Stein castle. King Byron appreciating the night sky. The sight of your yellow and orange princess elect room where on the large bed with its blue bedframe and tall see-through canopy you lie awake and think about the events of the day and how would a wise future Queen of Wysteria deal with the current situation. But ultimately you fall asleep, hearing the melancholically beautiful sounds of a violin coming from somewhere deep within your dream, and leave it all to the following day.

Thank you for everything, Midnight Cinderella!

08/26/2024

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart's honeymoon 🥹🥹🥹

The way I ran to Google Docs to write this, not just because I love me some fluffy smut, but also because I love you.

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Relaxing on the beach, giving your new husband a sexy surprise...what more can you ask for?

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), p in v, breeding kink (of course), Ms. Sweetheart/Reader wears lingerie

WC: 1.1k

A/N: Big thank you and smoochy kisses to @jo-harrington for helping me make this piece body-inclusive, and to @corroded-hellfire for ensuring the breeding kink was on point.

August 1998

“What a day.” Eddie flops onto the king-size bed face first, still in his wet swim trunks. Sand sticks to the bottom of his feet; you swear he’s traipsed in half the beach. “Who knew lounging in the sun could be so exhausting? I don’t know how we’re gonna go back to our normal lives.” He flips over onto his back so his words are no longer muffled. “Like, my body might be back in Hawkins, but my mind will be in Myrtle Beach.”

You laugh, arms crossed over your chest and pressed against the thin fabric of your cover-up. “Can you drag yourself into the shower and wash off?” When he doesn’t move, you let your fingertips dance along the sole of his foot. He giggles maniacally and reflexively, drawing inwards. 

“Dammit, okay, okay!” He shakes his head and pushes himself up to an upright position. “The things you do to get me naked…”

“Mhm.” You roll your eyes dismissively as though his suggestion is absurd—even though that’s exactly what you’re trying to do. 

As soon as you hear the squeak of the spigot and the ensuing stream of water, you unzip your suitcase and rifle through until you find what you’re looking for. You feel it before you see it, fingers grasping the lacy fabric triumphantly. 

You shed the flower-printed cover-up, catching a glimpse in the mirror of yourself in your swimsuit. Eddie had picked it out for you—a one-piece that hugged you in all the right places. Truthfully, you could wear this and it would turn him on, but this is your honeymoon, and you want it to be special. 

Peeling off the damp suit, you toss it aside; it lands on the floor with a comical thwack, and you make a mental note to pick it up later. 

The teddy you’d bought weeks ago suddenly looks daunting, purchased during a trip to the mall with Jess. She’d insisted that no honeymoon is complete without some lingerie, and you’d reluctantly given in after she’d assured you multiple times that Eddie would, quote, “lose his goddamn mind.”

Soft black cups perfectly hold your breasts in place, accentuating your decolletage. The sheer mesh covering your torso is embroidered with lace roses, leaving just enough to the imagination. 

All right, you can admit it—you look good. 

You lounge on the small sofa that faces the bathroom, adjusting the bodysuit’s thin straps as you wait for the steadily falling water to cease, punctuated by several rogue drops. Your heart leaps with excitement as you hear the door knob twist and you’re bathed in a plume of steamy air. 

“Surprised you didn’t try to join—holy hell.” Eddie exhales with a grin, taking in your scantily-clad body. A white towel is slung low on his hips, sopping up the water trickling from his curls. “Where did you get this little number, baby?”

Heat creeps into your cheeks as he saunters toward you, one hand finding the small of your back while the other caresses your cheek. He leans in and kisses you hungrily, his burgeoning erection pressing against your bare thigh.

“Got me all worked up just by looking at you, Mrs. Munson,” he murmurs into your lips. It sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine as he deepens his embrace, pulling you as close as he possibly can.

Your fingers dip beneath the towel, tugging it from where it’s tucked along his waist and letting it drop. He’s fully exposed, and it takes all of your willpower to keep up this game of seduction and refrain from kissing down his happy trail.

“Since you’re so tired tonight, baby,” you coo, nipping at his earlobe as you speak, “I figured I could take care of you.” Your palms journey the expanse of his chest, draping them over his shoulders and guiding him onto the bed. The fresh bed sheets are crisp underneath your knees as you straddle him, grinding your core against his. “‘S that okay?”

Eddie nods, letting out an incredulous breath. “Course, yeah, whatever you want…” He sits up slightly, mouth drawn to your breasts as though pulled by a magnet. 

“I want you,” you tell him, sucking bruises into his neck that you hope will last until you return home. “I want you inside me, filling me up, making me feel so, so good…”

The fabric between your thighs is already soaked with proof of your desire, and you shift it over so you can sink down onto his hardened length. You take him inch by inch, the tip breaching your hole and stretching you in its delicious, familiar way.

“Oh, my god,” you whimper, bringing his hands to the flesh of your ass and giving your movements more stability. Each rock of your hips draws a moan from your husband’s plush lips, his tongue darting out to wet them every so often. “Eddie, oh, my god!”

His grip on your ass tightens as you clench around him and continue to bounce. “‘M close,” he grunts, breath hitching as he begins slamming up into you to chase his release. “Fuck, baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight…can’t hold back any more…” He speaks through gritted teeth, purely animalistic in nature. 

Your middle finger finds your clit, rubbing small circles into it. The small movements drive both you and Eddie absolutely wild. 

“Thassit…touch yourself for me,” he groans, barely audible above the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin and the way you’re drenching him right now. “You look so goddamn perfect like this, filled to the brim with my cock.”

“Wanna be filled with your cum, too,” you whine, feeling the beginnings of your own orgasm. “Wanna take all your cum, Eddie, like a good little wife.”

Eddie’s eyes practically roll back in his head. “My good little wife, all barefoot and pregnant…fuckfuckfuck…takeittakeittakeit.” With a final few thrusts, he spills into you with everything he has. His grasp loosens as he softly kisses your arms, desperate to remain close to you in any way possible. 

“So,” you start with a giggle, gently moving off of him so you can cuddle into his perspiration-slick chest, “looks like you got a second wind.”

He tilts your chin up, his eyes studying your face like a precious gemstone. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll get a third, okay, Sweetheart?” He winks, thumb gliding up and down your jawline. “Keep that sexy outfit on f’me, though. I’m not done with either of you.”

--

[bloodplague]

Addressing all allegations

Before mentioning everything, I'd like y'all to note a few things.

— Trigger warnings: Mentioning gore, slurs, Offenderman, mentioning an abuser (Crystal Castles, Ethan), mentioning of alcohol, etc. — Please do not harass Seirei over this at all. Yes, she made 2-3 videos about that and yes, she has spread some false information, but this is about me and not her. She does not deserve to be harassed. Seirei has been harassed over this, which is why I wanted to mention this. [ @seireitonin ] — Some people don't want their names leaked, so obviously I will draw over some users. — If I'm unsure about what prons to use for different people, I will use they/them. — I don't know where people got that from, but I'm not 25, nor am I in my twenties. My age will be mentioned in this post. Topics: 1. Doxxing & Spamming gore 2. Crystal castles 3. Kastoway 4. Lulu canon sheet 5. Offenderman „headcanons“ 6. Sally‘s channel 7. "Groomer" allegations 8. L slur 9. Asher 11. School shooting jokes? 12. The whole SA thing 13. "Ben drowned controller"-person 14. August and her personal relationship 15. Alcohol mentioning 16. Overly dark humor 17. Krunkatron

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Doxxing

I think people tried to doxx me over all of this now, sending my IP address to Seirei and (possibly!) others, which is a bit wild but there's not much I can do except get a VPN. They also threatened to doxx a literal 13 year old and spam them gore images which is fucked up, nicely said. "Tulip" is the "frenchfucker67200" person.

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Crytal Castles

Because someone mentioned me supporting Ethan Kath, I'd like to mention that I don't. He's a terrible person who has abused Alice Glass (The old lead singer of Crystal Castles) for years and more.

I do love listening to Crystal Castles and ramble about how much I love the music, but did not say anything positive about Ethan. I don't idolize him either. I idolize Alice Glass, who unfortunately was a victim of Ethan.

As far as I'm informed, Alice is the victim and Ethan the abuser. I heard rumors about Ethan being innocent, but there's too much against him. I'm just a Crystal Castles listener, I do NOT know what's the 100% truth.

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Kastoway

I made a video, claiming that "Kastoway didn't actually do anything" and people shouldn't immediately believe everyone claiming stuff without showing proof, and now I'm basically getting called out for that too. I researched a bit and went through his sister's TikTok who made a whole google doc about Kastoway, linking it in her bio. People claim Kastoway is trans-phobic and supported a really weird creator (Sally's creator, La_Mishi_Mishi), so I wanna show what I actually found related to that since I never saw anything confirming that Kastoway is trans-phobic.

The links in the doc don't work anymore. Also another screenshot of me saying "as far as I know" and not saying "100% the truth".

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Lulu canon sheet

Basically; In our Discord server, every character has her own channel for canon information and images. I threw in most canon drawings the creator made, including one where she was very exposed with only a part of the chest-area covered and the hips including private areas. This was a scar, body and bruise reference. I only put it there for scar refernece purposes, though I see and understand how this drawing is disgusting and should not be shown in a public server. I deleted it after talking about it with someone I will keep anon and a few mods.

Because people got upset over me adding a sexuality headcanon, it's canon that Lulu is straight. When making the headcanon about her being straight, I had no intention of "sexualizing her". I just threw in a headcanon about what sexuality she could possibly have since apparently she's dating someone?

^ This is all canon information. I'm not sure what "via" means, so I'm not gonna comment that, that's all I could related to Lulu's age. I do not know how old she is on the picture, but assuming she's a minor, I deleted it from her channel.

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Offenderman

Someone basically claimed I was making Offenderman headcanons:

^ , even though that's straight up a lie? Those are not my headcanons, those were canon facts. For context, we have channels for all characters and their canon information, including Offenderman (until he got removed). I copied those from his canon sheets on DeviantArt, I did not write them myself.

Rough context to the Offenderman channel: He was supposed to be a part of the book because of the whole 4-Slender-brother thing and I planned on killing him off & was NOT gonna include ANY of his actions, but after people expressed their discomfort towards Offendermans channel and him being a part of the book, I removed him completely.

I also like to mention that I don't support Offenderman nor his actions at all. I only added him to have "the 4 Slender-brothers" in the book.

Krunkatron was willing to purposely take something out of context which is kinda crazy, but also what you have to expect when it comes to using Discord, I guess.

But yeah every time someone tried to tell them, they got blocked.

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Sally's channel

Krunkatron claimed I called Sally "sexy" which is also a wild thing to say, purposely taking it out of context.

This is all copied information I threw in the channel after copying it from her canon sheets. I didn't read everything, I just threw everything in I found. A while later I went through everything and noticed the "sexy", so I removed it.

As far as I can tell, La_Mishi_Mishi (Sally's creator) was explaining the "meaning of the name Sally" which you can literally see on the screenshot too.

Though, I don't see why they would have to include that in a character description of an 8 year old, so I'm absolutely NOT defending them & removed it. Not to mention that they drew weird shit as well.

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Groomer allegations

I don't really have much of a choice in this since allegations like that are serious as hell, so please, I'm not 25 (where ever people got that from). I'm a minor. I was never comfortable with revealing my age or talking about it a lot, since I got groomed several times and wanted to avoid that happening again.

Some of my friends didn't know, so don't pounce on them, only a few knew. The me driving a car video, that was in a parking lot. I've shown my ID to a few people like August, Vanessa, Asher, Alory and Jack too.

I never planned on sharing my exact age. Once people started making guesses, saying they think I'm 19-24, I just went along with it because I was not comfortable sharing my age.

With that being said, most of the allegations are probably cleared up. Specially the "jokingly flirts with minors"-thing.

And before krunk comes at me for my diagnoses, surprise, you can get diagnosed at the age of 15 in Germany. Some personality disorders can be diagnosed at 15 and yes, I got my diagnoses by several professionals. Faking mental disorders is disgusting, I don't do that.

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L-Slur

There's basically a screenshot of me saying the L slur, and I just want to say that I didn't know it was a slur. I don't use slurs I'm not allowed to use, so I immediately stopped saying the word once Alory (the person who I said it to) explained it.

Some people claim it's not a slur, some say it is, but it doesn't really matter. What matters is that I will not use it again since I'm not a lesbian and have no right to use that slur.

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Asher

Some people claim Asher is a n.zi, and I just want to reassure everyone that he is definitely not one. He explained several times that he does not support any of HABIT's actions and rambles about how terrible he actually is. And no, I'm not "grooming Asher"?? Like I said, I'm a minor myself. In fact, I helped Asher get rid of groomers to stay safe 3 times now.

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School shooting jokes

I basically made a joke about something like "shoot them like the kids in America", and honestly, isn't that the most common joke? I see so many famous YouTubers like Markiplier or Flamingo joke about it, almost everyone on TikTok and literally everyone I talk to. I see how people are uncomfortable if they suffer under trauma related to school shootings, so I won't make those jokes anymore, but aren't they more or less normal at that point? (genuine question)

Tumblr is only letting me add 30 images in total, so I'm trying to think fo a way to show screenshots without being forced to make 6 different posts.

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The "Ben Drowned's controller" person

Basically a 12 year old that was upset that they got kicked from our server. You have to be 13+ to use Discord. Either way, they claimed that Virus (someone who tried to get nudes from a 13 year old and someone who tried to groom Asher) was not a groomer.

Please note this person is ONLY 12, so DO NOT HARASS THEM.

They were spreading false information, claiming Virus (aka Kiro on those pictures) is "normal", even though he's far from that. Virus is 22, telling a 14 year old about his kinks, offering to write smut, writing smut, talking about porn and sending sexual drawings. This is absolutely not okay. Saying "Asher could've told him to stop" is not a valid excuse either. Why would an adult tell a minor about that in first place. That's just disgusting.

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August and their relationship

There's nothing much I have to say to that other then that people shouldn't send around screenshots of August's and their ex's DM's?

They are both the same age and (as far as I know) were comfortable with what happened, bringing up their old relationship has NOTHING to do with all of this, so stop.

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Alcohol mentioning

The whole alcohol mentioning has been stopped about 2 months ago. People already expressed their feelings about this, so I stopped. I used to send pictures of my collection at times, which some people twisted into "promoting alcohol" as if I was telling people to drink.

As said, I stopped around 2 months ago (I think) and won't really mention alcohol anymore. I don't know why people brought it up again if we stopped.

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I'm gonna post a "part 2" tomorrow or once I can, talking about all the overly dark jokes I made. It's like 3:17 AM and I have to go to work in a few hours so yeah I'll do that tomorrow.

A few more notes!!!

— I'm most likely gonna delete overly rude comments because it's just unnecessary (looking at Krunkarton who said "Idc if youre a minor, slit to the bone"???) — Read everything before commenting something please, I don't wanna explain things several times when most answers are in this post — Again, I'll address the rest in the second post because of the picture limit

Telling 13 year olds stuff like that is feral. (most of the comments are towards 2 of my friends so yah)

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: [Happily Ever Afters Don’t Exist]

Summary: A certain naval aviator shows up on your front doorstep right on cue. Because when the nightmares are too hard to handle on their own? You and Jake find solace in one another’s presence.

Word Count: 2.5k

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Sunday- August 13th 2023. Present Day 

We all remember the bedtime stories of our childhoods. The shoe that fits Cinderella, the frog that turns into a prince, Sleeping Beauty is awakened with a kiss. Once upon a time and then they lived happily ever after. 

Fairy tales—the stuff of dreams. The problem is, fairy tales don’t come true. It’s the other stories, the ones that begin with dark and stormy nights, and end in the unspeakable. It’s the nightmares that always seem to become reality. 

You shot up from your spot in your bed trying to regulate your breathing from yet another nightmare, the nightmares you already lived through that your mind, body and soul couldn’t let go of, the overwhelming fear had triggered yet another panic induced asthma attack. Your inhaler sat close by on your bedside table. 

You came to quickly realise after all that you’d been through that the person that invented the phrase ‘Happily Ever After’ Should have his ass kicked and kicked hard. Because ‘Happily Ever After’ Didn’t exist. 

Sleep didn't come easy anymore, especially at night. Since you’d been on mandated medical leave you did your best to sleep during the day and stay awake all night, just to keep the voices in your head silent. It did little to curve the nightmares though, the sounds of tortuous screams that would send you into a dizzying fit of terrors until you realised you were safe. That you were home and that you were in your own bed, not on some dirty cell floor a million miles away with no hope of ever seeing your loved ones again. 

A knock at your front door in the middle of the night would usually have your heart racing. People don't knock on peoples doors in the middle of the night, and if they do? Your mother always taught you not to answer unless you were expecting company. 

As you padded over to your front door with a warm cup of peppermint tea in your hand, you had to wonder what one it was this time that brought the wounded soul to your doorstep. You opened your front door to reveal the very person you had actually been expecting for all the wrong reasons. He stood with his shoulders slumped in his grey sweats and an old longhorns T-shirt that looked worse than he did. Sad emerald green eyes met yours as he ran a nervous hand through his sandy locks, hell, this never got any easier. 

Jake Seresin showing up on your doorstep at one in the morning had become a thing. On the nights he wasn't dragging his tail up your three porch steps, you were banging against his courtyard gate. Both as desperate for company as each other. Yet neither of you would admit you were struggling. But the unspoken was as loud as silence could ever be. 

You’d both witnessed and experienced the unthinkable, unspeakable acts of violence that should have killed you both. But yet here you were, making him peppermint tea at one in the morning, trying to hide the fact whenever you looked at him all you saw was the way his body bled and bruised. 

“What one was it this time?” You asked as you handed Jake the tea you'd made for him, having expected him any minute now. He still had bruises that littered his cheeks and eye socket. Doctors had reassured you that his broken jaw would heal in time, for someone with the gift of the gap not talking though was a difficult task. But being in an induced coma for the first week since being admitted helped the swelling a lot. He looked more like himself now. 

Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. The very embodiment of a human ken doll. He looked like the Jake you knew before the mission that nearly killed you both. Everyday that passed he looked less and less like the version of himself that would have said or done anything to keep you alive. That had done everything he could have. 

“The one where they made me hurt you.” Jake mumbled as he stepped past the threshold of your humble abode and accepted the cup of warm peppermint tea you had made for him. He appreciated the warm sensation, it grounded him. “I get that one alot, whenever I close my eyes–” Jake paused as he drank in the sight of you. You looked healthier now. Brighter. Your eyes weren't so full of fear and your lip wasn't as split anymore. “All I see is you and how I couldn’t save you.” 

You and Jake had shared all your darkest nightmares with one another, he was the only person who understood what you were going through, what you sounded like while your skin was cut and your bones were broken. He was the only one who understood when you told him your body didn’t feel like yours anymore. And you were the only one who understood what it was like to want to die just to feel peace. To escape hell. You’d seen the limits each other could tolerate, and you'd seen each other's breaking points. Neither of you could escape the burning guilt you held for each other. It was a bond that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. 

With all the love you held for each other you’d both agreed now just wasn’t the right time. A relationship seemed like the worst thing to jump head first into after experiencing hell on earth. But with that mutual understanding came a deep hesitation to believe any of it was ever real to begin with. 

“Well, you did.” You reminded Jake as his eyes wandered down to where your hand and wrist still remained in a cast. He could still remember the way you screamed out in utter agony when the hammer smashed your bones, how you looked when infection took over. “I’m here because of you.” He didn’t reply straight away as he took a sip of the warm peppermint tea you’d made for him. He watched silently as you closed your front door—making sure to lock it and switch off the patio light. It was the middle of the night after all. 

Jake Seresin was a wreck, you knew that much. The people who knew him better than most would often tell you he was a shell of his former cocky, egomaniacal self. They all missed that version of Jake—the one who could give anyone a headache just by his charm alone, but was present and aware. 

But the Jake you knew was just as scared and bruised as you. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, the mutual midnight visits were enough of an explanation, and you didn’t push. He didn’t push either. The two of you just existed, trying to navigate through the trauma of the situation the two of you found yourselves in. Marked confidential and sealed indefinitely. Plagued with the sounds of each other’s tortuous screams. 

“You were there because of me too.” Jake finally replied, his voice was soft and barely audible. “You were my responsibility.” He bowed his head in shame, regret had followed him everywhere since the two of you had gone down. “I failed you.” 

It was your turn to listen and take in the heaviness of Jake's admission. An admission you’d heard a hundred times before and would surely hear a thousand times more. It was Jake's truth, his version of reality. 

“You didn’t fail me, Seresin.” You sighed softly as you walked your way around to stand before him. Jake looked at you with so much guilt, so much anguish in his eyes. Those deep green emerald eyes. “Because we’re home, we’re safe, you’re standing here drinking my peppermint tea and I’m about to reach up and kiss you—“ You placed your hand on the back of Jake's neck, slowly, tentatively. “Because you didn’t fail me, you saved me.” Jake knew that was true to some extent, you were holding on for dear life when rescue came. Without them, without Jake begging you to stay, you probably wouldn’t have. 

“Please—“ Jake whispered as tears fell from his lash line. “Just one.” You did. It wasn’t hard touching Jake, or loving him or kissing him or doing anything that made you feel connected. If it were anyone else you’d struggle. But not with Hangman. 

It was the softest of kisses, the most fleeting of things, but you did what you said you were going to do and reached up to kiss Jake's lips. 

Jake raised his eyebrows in reaction to your softness but soon closed his eyes knowing he was safe and pulled you closer by the small of your waist with just one hand. He still held the peppermint tea in the other. Savouring every single moment, every fleeting touch you were willing to give him. 

“You didn’t fail me Jake, I’m standing right here, because you kept me going—you kept me alive.” You knew exactly what Jake needed to hear as he let his forehead rest against yours. You cupped his cheeks to catch the tears that had begun to fall down his slightly bruised cheeks. You caught Jake's tears with the pads of your thumbs, just like you’d done when he was covered in his own blood. 

“You gave me hope and we’re okay Jake, we’re okay.” All Jake did was nod with closed eyes. He needed your gentle touch to ground him, keep him from falling into the dark depths of the hole he was standing on the edge of. 

“We’re okay.” The same hole that you had teetered on the edge of. “We’re okay.” Jake repeated a few times as he kept his eyes closed. He was afraid that when he opened his eyes you’d be gone. “We’re okay.” He whispered just one more time before he opened his eyes, you were still there, his weapon’s system office, his responsibility, his one and only guiding light. “Thanks.” 

“Not a problem.” You pressed your lips together in a fine line before you stepped away. Heading towards the kitchen where you’d left your own cup of tea. “I’m glad you’re here actually.” You sheepishly admitted. “I was going to try and get some rest but couldn’t fall asleep alone.” Jake knew what you were asking of him—he’d asked you a fair few times himself. But again, it was all coded. 

“I’m pretty tired, could use an hour or two.” He replied with half a smile that only graced half his face. Jake followed you over to the hallway he knew led down to your bedroom. Completely lit so that not an ounce of darkness could shroud your recovery process. “I’ll stay.” 

“Thanks.” You looked up at Jake as he looked at you, both as broken as each other. He still saw the uncertainty in your eyes, the fear that your time had left you with. Jake could argue you had it worse than he did, but you’d say it wasn’t a competition. “I think I sleep easier with you here than when you’re not.” 

“If I wasn’t so haunted by your screams Hollywood, I’d be flattered.” Jake teased as he took a sip of his tea. The tea you’d made just for him in the mug you knew he liked. It was easy to joke about small details, it’s how you and Jake got by, but the sad reality was it was all true. There was a time where Jake Seresin would have taken that compliment and turned it into something more sexually explicit. But now? Even when the two of you did embark on showing one another what it was like to touch the stars and all Jake saw was you in that cell screaming for those men to stop. In his nightmares as he’d lay beside you he felt like one of them. 

Jake caught himself falling into a k-hole of thoughts as he took another sip of his tea to bring him back down to earth. “But yeah, I sleep better with you by my side too.” 

It was weird going from being so sure of every word Jake spoke in the time you were held together, to all these ‘Thinks’ and ‘Pretty Sures.’ But you knew the ‘I love yous’ shared and the admiration admitted were all just tactics to keep each other alive. At least on Jake’s behalf you assumed. For you? Every word of it was real. Every plea for Jake to keep his eyes open was real. Every cry of mercy for them to stop beating him was real. Every ‘take me’ every ‘I love you’ every ‘don’t you dare die on me, not now.’ Was real. Every ‘when we make it home, I’ll never let you go.’ Was real. 

“Good.” You yawned, exhausted from all the sleepless nights and half ass attempts during the day. “Because I’m exhausted.” 

“Feels like we’re on a train that’s going like two hundred miles an hour without any breaks.” Jake began walking with you towards your bedroom. A bedroom he’d become so familiar in he knew where you kept your socks and what corner you favoured for dirty laundry. “And as much as you wanna stop that train we can’t get off, for some fucking reason we just can’t get off.” He continued as you pushed your door open, still lit from almost every light you owned. “Wouldn’t it though—wouldn’t it just be so nice to step off onto the platform for a minute?” Jake asked as you took his tea and placed it up on the dresser beside yours. Coaxing him forward and towards your bed by his hand. 

“It would be nice.” You tried not to cry.” “It would be so nice.” You knew what Jake meant, what the platform was a metaphor for. You couldn’t say you hadn’t thought about it—the sweet release death would bring. “But I’m not quitting on you now Hangman.” You held back tears as you kissed Jake again, this time with more passion and fire in your intention and this time he kissed you back. 

The back of your knees hit the side of your bed and you were down, with Jake falling with you. It was the closest to love the pair of you would get. Relearning what gentle romance was. Relearning to understand that not every touch was rough. 

“So you don’t get to quit on me.” You reminded him sternly. It was just the trauma talking. You’d give anything to go back to the way things were before, when the two of you hardly spoke. When the pair of you bickered and argued and didn’t engage in pity sex out of an existential obligation to one another just to feel something besides hopelessness and pain. “Because we made it out, we got out and we survived—“ You cried into his mouth as tears of his own dripped off his cheeks down onto yours. “And we’ll survive whatever else is left to come, okay, you and me?” 

Jake didn’t give you an answer, but he nodded silently before he took your lips hostage again. His hands were gentle against you—afraid that he’d hurt healing wounds. But he could never. He could never hurt you as much as they did. 

“Just you and me Hollywood."

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Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989

[nickfowlerrr]

baby, all night.

GIF by demivampirew

pairing: august walker x curvy!reader

words: 1.3k

warnings: 18+ only. cockwarming. teasing. literally just smut lol.

notes: first time posting for august...we'll see how this is received lol. he's got three fics in my docs atm but none are finished quite yet. i couldn't resist writing something for him for these little smutty xmas drabbles though.

inspired by this txt post, this is one of seven characters i’m writing this prompt of sorts for. thank you in advance for reading and as always, reblogs and comments and welcome and so appreciated.

Your eyelids flutter shut, eyes threatening to roll back as his large hands move you to sink down once more onto his throbbing length. When you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock snug inside of you, you lean your back against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you fight the urge to move.

You really have no clue how he manages to last as long as he does, how he can keep this torturous game up for what feels like hours and hours on end. You don’t have the restraint, the self control that Walker does - he knows that well enough.

It’s why he loves this so much; seeing the pathetic look in your eyes the moment you can’t take any more, when you shatter around him, finally giving in to him entirely.

He’ll take care of you during the comedown but as soon as he knows you’re good to go, that’s when his real fun begins. All of this preamble is nothing more than foreplay for him. You both know the night hasn’t even really started.

You don’t know why tonight of all nights you agreed to this game again, but you did - and now you’re trying your best to win. There’s a first time for everything, maybe you’ll pull off a Christmas Eve miracle.

There’s a deep rumble that sounds from the man behind you, and a glimmer of hope lights in you that just maybe he’s closer to his end than he wants you to believe. You both know you’re hanging on by a thread.

But you can hold out a little longer.

You think.

Just as you begin to level out your breathing, your focus returning to the black and white Christmas movie still playing on the screen, the hands on your hips hold you tighter as August scoots back on the couch, jostling you atop him as he gets more comfortable. The moan that leaves you as his cock moves along your walls, rubbing against that perfect spot just right, is almost embarrassing. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when it feels that good.

August spreads his thick legs, causing yours to do the same as they are resting on the outside of his. His manspreading leaves you completely open and exposed and as he relaxes into the couch, you slump further into him, a soft whimper passing your lips as he brings one hand to rest on the top of your thigh, squeezing your plushness there before he spreads his hand, his long fingers against your inner thigh, his thumb dangerously close to your clit. He “innocently” rubs his thumb up and down your skin - not touching your pussy, but just along it, and with the pressure he’s using, and how sensitive you already are, you feel tingles as he stokes your fire. You’re breathless as your eyes squeeze shut,

“You’re cheating,” you nearly whine. He laughs, turning his head to kiss your temple, not stopping his movements.

“I’m not breaking any rules. I’m not touching anywhere I’m not allowed to,” he defends himself.

“Close enough,” you argue. He’s less than an inch away from actually rubbing your pussy and you’re less than two seconds away from moving his hand closer so he can play with your aching clit and finally give you what you really want.

You groan feebly as you begin to writhe atop him, arching your back as your walls clench around his cock. August hisses and grips your thigh tight, his other hand coming up to grip your jaw as he forces you to be still against him. His lips are against your ear as he breathes a little heavier.

“No. Moving,” he reminds you gruffly. “And open those pretty eyes for me, baby. You’re gonna miss the climax.” You can feel his smirk against your cheek and you huff at his taunting. He thinks he’s so fucking funny.

You settle once more into his hold and he kisses your cheek, his thumb rubbing the soft skin of your face before he slides his hand down, slyly over your chest where he squeezes you.

“August!” you yell in irritation as your walls squeeze around him in turn. “You’re such a fucking cheat,” you complain, head pressing back once again.

“That was an accident,” he says nonchalantly.

“God, and you’re a liar. Remind me again why I put up with you?”

He laughs darkly and speaks confidently,

“No one else could ever make you feel this good. You know your pussy was made for my cock," he gloats, "just look how well she takes it.” August nuzzles your cheek as he continues taunting you. "There's about thirty minutes left of the movie. I know I can last, what about you?" He leans closer as his lips brush your ear, "I can see the tremble in your legs, pretty girl. Why don't you just give in, huh?"

"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you. I'm not losing this time. I've had tonight planned all week," you remind him breathily. "That blindfold has your name written all over it. I'm in charge tonight, you agreed. You can't just get home and change the rules on me," you pout, your hand gripping his thick thigh as you try to calm yourself down, once again teetering embarrassingly on the edge of ecstasy.

"I didn't change the rules, angel. I proposed a game, which you agreed to. Can't back out now that you're losing."

"'M not," you argue. "I just- argh fuck!" you throw your head back again, moaning as the pressure builds, August shaking his leg, and thus you, up and down. "Feels so good," you moan through clenched teeth, fingernails digging into his thighs.

"Open your eyes," he demands huskily, and you obey without thought, your eyes looking up into his as he holds you tight around your waist, keeping you against him as your legs really begin to shake. He smiles beautifully when he sees it - that look in your eye that says you're done for. "There it is, sweetheart," he speaks quietly, voice low and gravelly, "that's it, let it happen. Let go for me."

You fall apart all together at his words, feeling like putty as he lets his fingers graze over your cunt, rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure as he kisses your face, your head back on his shoulder as you let your orgasm overwhelm you. It's wave after wave of pleasure until you finally ease in his hold, coming down from the drawn out high.

As your breathing starts to regulate, you pout once more as the realization of your loss hits you.

August chuckles as he holds you, still. "You put up a good fight, baby, I have to admit... Look," he says, tilting and turning your face to face him, "I know you put a lot into tonight, and it's Christmas Eve, so I'll be nice." He leans in and you let him kiss you once before you give in and return it, deepening the kiss before pulling away.

"Yeah?" you ask, voice hopeful.

He nods and you bite your lip in excitement, nearly preening before leaning over to grab the silk black blindfold from where you had placed it on the table - both of you effected by the movement, August's dick still hard and throbbing inside you. He groans under his breath; his hands massage your hips as you lean back and settle against him again for a second.

"I'm in charge?" you ask for clarity's sake, wanting his confirmation.

"Yes, sweetheart, you're in charge."

"Okay," you grin, "then let's start with this," you say as you dangle the blindfold in front of his face. August raises a brow at you and you laugh mischievously, "I have a game in mind, too."

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 3

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The Regent’s forces were rivers of darker red, driving inroads into their lines, mingling their armies together, like a stream of blood hitting water, then diffusing.

He killed, and it was simply that men got out of his way, or were dead.

He had grown used to something that had been temporary, like the flash of exhilaration in a pair of blue eyes for a moment catching his own. All of that tangled together inside him, and tightened, through the killing, into a single hard knot.

something about the way this is written just hits me in the abandonment issues

‘If the Prince of Vere shows himself, I will kill him.’ Nikandros half spat the words.

nik private twitter venting moment #2

The ground was wet, his legs were mud-spattered above his knees—mud in dry summer, because the ground was blood.

i don’t know man i feel like after a point you have to just be like. hey. why are we doing this again? like yeah i get that fighting in a military force can be for A Cause but unless you’re directly involved in enacting ideological change, aren’t you basically just cannon fodder

On the far side of the field, he saw the flash of embroidered red. That is how Akielons win wars, isn’t it? Why fight the whole army, when you can just—

i’m guessing the part in italics in a previous laurent line, about damen killing auguste at marlas?

He used the little name that Damen had been called as a boy; the childhood name, reserved for intimates.

the fact that is was kastor specifically asking the veretians to call him that…

Damen realised that he was on his knees, his own chest heaving like the chest of his horse.

laurent’s horse will be glad to know that damen’s horse lived. because, as we all know, they’re in love

‘Over?’ The word grated out of him. All he could think was that if the Regent still lived, nothing was over.

it is interesting how, even when he thinks laurent screwed him over (see previous chapter), damen has this uncontrollable rage towards the regent rather than laurent. i think this has more to do with the regent killing his men and trying invade his country, though. and maybe just that it’s easier to hate him than laurent. “regent = bad” is something that’s easy for damen to comprehend right now, while laurent’s whole thing is a lot more confusing and intimate

And with returning awareness, he saw as if for the first time the bodies of the men that he had killed to get to the Regent’s decoy, and beyond that, the evidence of what he had done. The field was a rutted earthworks strewn with the dead. The ground was a churned mess of flesh, ineffective armour and riderless horses. Killing ceaselessly, for hours, he had not been aware of the scale of it, of what he had caused to happen here. He saw flashes behind his eyelids, faces of the men he’d killed. Those left standing were all Akielon; and they stared at Damen as at something impossible.

damen holy shit… i guess that’s one way to reclaim your authority. and he didn’t even mean it as a sign of intimidation, he just wanted to get to the “regent.” who by the way was just some random guy RIP

‘Find the highest-ranked Veretian still living and tell them they have leave to bury their dead,’ said Damen. There was a fallen Akielon banner on the ground beside him. ‘Charcy is claimed for Akielos.’ As he rose, Damen wrapped his hand around its wooden pole and planted it in the earth.

not sure if calling it an akielion victory despite the combined forces is just customary, or intentionally out of spite. i’m leaning on the former, since it’s damen and not laurent we're talking about

The herald came cantering across the devastated landscape on a white, glossy mare with a curved neck and a high, flying tail. Beautiful and untouched, he made a mockery of the sacrifice of the brave men on the field. His banner streamed out behind him, and its blazon was Laurent’s starburst, in blue and shining gold.

here is an excerpt from a post i made while reading king’s rising for the first time:

“damen when he realizes he’s not in a slow burn romance with problematic beginnings, but a complex psychological thriller in which the smartest fictional character i have ever personally encountered has decided to make his life a living hell and also they’re in love with each other but the psychological thriller stuff is way more important to his bitchy blonde nightmare malewife and he is SO down bad and just has to deal with laurent’s mean girls 4d chess petty nonsense bc it’s enrichment for him and damen will kill anyone who gets in laurent’s way and he can’t even pick up the very very VERY clear implications of laurent’s trauma that would probably allow them to reach some kind of vulnerability equilibrium in their relationship”

on a re-read, i think this is a great time to dig into that a little more ;)

SO what i love about so much of laurent’s choices in the next few chapters is the fact that much of what he says and does is entirely petty. like, yes there’s always strategy and trauma and depth as usual, but i think it’s not denying him depth to say that he is 20 years old, this is his first love in the midst of an extremely stressful and messy situation, and despite his own wishes he cannot prevent his emotions from affecting his actions. laurent has had control over so much of the situation with damen thus far, both with the power dynamics between them as master and “slave” and the fact that damen didn’t know that laurent knew who he was. but now laurent knows that damen knows, so all of his previous and future actions are going to be under damen’s scrutiny in that context. they’re equals now, and the secrets reinforcing laurent’s prior cognitive dissonance have dissolved. that leaves laurent vulnerable (especially after being tortured and genuinely letting damen down even if by accident) and emotional compromised (he has no choice but to see damen as damianos, and with that comes all of the auguste baggage and the fact that they’ve already fallen in love and had sex under different circumstances).

all that is to say, the next few chapters are laurent’s mean girls era. he is, again, still being smart and strategic (4d chess), and his feelings are valid and his trauma is real. however, he is also just being MEAN, for the same reasons classic high school movie mean girls tend to be: he feels insecure and vulnerable about his romantic attachment to damen, stressed out by the insane amount of power he definitely should not have, and self-righteous about all the ways the world has conspired against him. regina george might have been the villain of the movie, but she was the hero of her own story. janis and cady methodically dismantled her life as a popular, powerful, and confident person. that’s why she got revenge with the burn book instead of looking inward and acknowledging her own issues, of which there were many. she had a machiavellian view of life, in which mean people always won, and so being mean in retaliation was how she could protect herself from being a victim.

that is laurent’s perspective too, for a lot of this series. we don’t know anything about regina’s backstory, or heather chandler’s (another great example), but we do know exactly why laurent has the worldview he does. he used to be sweet and it made him a victim. so he is mean to protect himself, even if that robs him of his sweetness. damen’s integrity and honor have challenged laurent’s worldview, though, and that has been the source of a lot of laurent’s slow reconsideration. but now that laurent can’t just pretend that damen isn't damianos, now that he has to accept this situation in its full interpersonal and political messiness, he isn’t nearly as inspired. laurent assumes, now that laurent has gone “mask off,” that damen will realize that laurent doesn’t deserve the love he has shown him in the past. because laurent has been mean to damen, by lying about his awareness even at the times damen thought he was being earnest and sweet. that makes damen a victim and fool—two things laurent deeply fears being, and therefore assumes everyone else also fears in themselves. two things the regent had wanted laurent to consider himself, by placing damen in his life in the first place.

therefore, in his insecurity and vulnerability and anger, as a 20 year old just experiencing his first love, as someone with a lot of power and stress who cannot waste time or energy on genuinely confronting his own flaws in good faith, laurent is gearing up to be sososososo mean to damen specifically in the next few chapters. like comedically mean. aimlessly mean. pathetically mean. on purpose. ultimately, if he must be alone (which he obviously must, says laurent's brain), laurent would rather be the villain of someone else’s story than a victim in his own. that, at least, is similar to book 1 laurent—but while he was a cat playing with a mouse in book 1, in a position to do serious damage to his opponent, now he’s more like…. a cat, slapping another cat. evenly matched, but still throwing hands. transparently insecure and pathetic, only effective in doing emotional damage in ways he doesn’t intend. damen isn’t hurt by the petty things laurent says and does, because he sees through them for what they are. he’s hurt because laurent sees them as necessary to protect himself and keep his distance, when all damen wants is to make things okay between them. which laurent would never expect, because he assumes that damen wants nothing to do with him, and would be happier and better off if they stayed apart.

basically: unstoppable force (damen's persistent caring) meets unmovable object (laurent's refusal to be genuinely cared for). the only way for this cycle to end is for damen to choose to stop, or for laurent to choose to yield. laurent will eventually make that choice, but he still has to be a huge bitch about it first. he's going to lash out at damen and challenge him to stop caring, but ultimately fail—both because damen is just built different, and because he's lowkey written as a fantasy partner for emotionally volatile people with attachment and abandonment issues.

rest assured, laurent’s genre is still psychological thriller, but it’s also now a high school drama movie. and damen is about to get a bitter taste of that, with pretty much no choice in the matter. this poor man will have to deal with laurent’s bitchy theatrics as they try to co-parent an army, and he’s already too emotionally invested and aware of laurent’s habit of lashing out when he’s in pain to genuinely fight back.

this could also be called laurent’s s1 catra era, but i’m not sure what the venn diagram of capri and she ra enjoyers looks like. to those who get it—laurent is doing what catra did at princess prom for the next several chapters, down to the “hey adora” = “hello lover.” this dynamic is very fun to read because it doesn’t overstay its welcome. it’s different from laurent in book 1, or catra in general, because it’s so clearly pathetic, damen and laurent are on the same side of the war, and damen could technically make it stop at any point. so i think it’s very very fun, while it lasts >:)

The herald reined in in front of him. Damen looked at the mare’s shiny coat, not dirt-covered, not heaving or darkened with sweat, and then at the herald’s livery, in immaculate condition, unflecked by the dust of the road. He felt it rising at the back of his throat. ‘Where is he?’

damen showed up to the prom laurent planned with him to unite their rival high schools, only to find himself dateless and laurent’s promised fancy party decorations missing. this is the moment where damen checks snapchat (i was in high school from 2013-2017) and sees everyone from vere high at their own immaculately-decorated prom, where laurent is being crowned king. little does damen know, laurent was blindsided by the vere-only prom and forced via social pressure to be there since everyone elected him prom king. they’re mad at each other for a high school drama pacing-typical period of time, and then make up when they realize the misunderstanding and reassert their dedication to each other.

laurent did still murder someone with a chair, though. but like a metal folding chair from the band room

The herald’s back hit the ground. Damen had dragged him bodily from his horse into the dirt, where he lay dazed and winded, with Damen’s knee in his stomach. Damen’s hand was around his neck.

His grip tightened before it opened enough to allow the herald to speak. The herald rolled onto his side and coughed as Damen released him. He pulled something from inside his jacket. Parchment, with two lines on it. You have Charcy. I have Fortaine. He stared at the words, written in familiar, unmistakable handwriting. I’ll receive you at my fort.

lamen hr complaint #5 (unnamed herald): ragdolling this guy over what should be impersonal, professional correspondence

also, because i can't help myself:

Fortaine eclipsed even Ravenel, powerful and beautiful, its towers high-flung, its jutting crenelles biting the sky. It rose to a sheer, impossible height and, from every vantage, it was flying Laurent’s banners. The pennants seemed to float on the air effortlessly, patterned silk in blue and gold.

WELCOME HOME, BROTHER KILLER

Rows upon rows of peaked, coloured tents were pitched on the field outside Fortaine’s walls, the sun lighting the pavilions, the banners, and the silks of a graceful encampment. It was a city of tents, and it camped a fresh, intact force of Laurent’s men, who had not fought and died through the morning. The constructed arrogance of the display was intentional. It said, exquisitely: Did you exert yourself at Charcy? I have been here examining my nails.

this is funny and i wouldn’t put it past laurent, but also i’m not sure if he like. really meant this part of it specifically to piss damen off. he was just tortured idk he probably just wanted things nice. a good part of the fun of lamen divorce era is remembering that damen’s interpretation of events isn’t necessarily accurate, and that it’s hilarious how he interprets things as petty personal slights even when they might not be. they’re both so obsessed with each other and it’s great

Nikandros reined in alongside him. ‘Uncle and nephew are alike. They send other men to do their fighting for them.’

nik tweets this verbatim on priv (#3)

Damen was silent. What he felt in his chest was a hardness like anger. He looked at the elegant silken city and thought about men dying on the field at Charcy.

but not exactly anger—betrayal? heartache? self-consciousness?

Some kind of herald’s greeting party was riding towards them. He gripped the Regent’s bloody, torn banner in his hand.

the phrase “greeting party” just made me imagine them rolling up with like confetti and a speaker blasting the celebration song. while damen holds the bloody torn banner

‘Just me,’ said Damen, and put his heels into his horse. About halfway across the field, he was met by the herald, who arrived with an anxious party of four attendants saying something urgent about protocol. Damen listened to four words of it. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Damen. ‘He’s expecting me.’

lamen hr complaint #6 (more unnamed heralds): disregarding protocol

(also “he’s expecting me” girlllll)

Without even pulling off his gauntlets, he strode to the tent. He knew its high scalloped folds; he knew the starburst pennant. No one stopped him. Not even when he reached the tent and dismissed the soldier at the entrance with a single order: ‘Go.’ He didn’t bother to see if his order was obeyed. The soldier let him through: of course he did; this had all been planned. Laurent was ready for him whether he came docilely behind the herald or, as he did now, the dirt and the sweat of the battle still on him, blood dried in the places where a cursory swipe with a cloth had not reached it. He swept the tent flap back with an arm, and stepped inside.

again i do have to question, beyond the drama, how much of this is as intentional and petty as damen thinks it is. like, the heralds literally cite protocol, damen knows this is the correct way for a camp to be run. i think he is assuming a lot here, although it’s reasonable to do so. we have seen in the past that damen assumes things of laurent that laurent is just like, “uh. not everything i do is on purpose” about, or damen is just WRONG about. i just wonder if damen’s approach here confirms things laurent was worried about (damen thinking poorly of him now that they’re on even ground), further fueling the fire of his rejection-sensitive bitchiness. not that it’s an excuse, or even undeserved, but it’s good to remember that there are two sides to the story.

like to damen, this is an angry post-battle rush of a moment to confront laurent and speak his truth (he doesn’t know laurent knows who he is), but to laurent this is like. post-torture and escape, and basically being thrown into the deep end of vulnerability with damianos and what this all implies to auguste’s memory. we’re not getting the best or most rational version of either of them right now, which is great for the drama but also makes the narration less reliable

This was the place Laurent had chosen.

right. damen thinks laurent chose this place to hear the truth about him, because the “you have charcy” note implies that at some point laurent probably figured out that damen is damianos. therefore laurent chose this occasion for them to meet each other, as they truly are by birth, for the first time. damen just doesn’t know the twist that laurent has always known who he’s been, and has chosen everything else before now with that knowledge too

There were a few furnishings, low seats, cushions, and in the background a trestle table hung with its own coverings, and set with shallow bowls of sugared pears and oranges. As though they were going to nibble at sweetmeats.

the same guy who ordered the “sorry you were given a severed head and discovered a suicide” fruit basket in prince’s gambit had to order a “sorry i gaslighted you for 2 books but not really because you also technically gaslighted me” fruit basket in kings rising

He lifted his gaze from the table to the exquisitely attired figure leaned with a single shoulder against the tent pole, watching him.

lucky number laurent lean #13!

Laurent said, ‘Hello, lover.’

It was not going to be simple.

this being the follow-up line to “hello lover” is such a good combination of funny and tension-building. like laurent’s cunty tableau immediately put out damen’s fiery righteous indignation and now he’s just like “oh this is going to suck.”

He made himself breathe through that. ‘Your men think you’re a coward. Nikandros thinks that you deceived us. That you sent us to Charcy, and left us there to die by your uncle’s sword.’ ‘And is that what you think?’ said Laurent. ‘No.’ Damen said, ‘Nikandros doesn’t know you.’

this is really a testament to pacat’s cleverness, how in chapter 1 there are a lot of moments where it’s almost like damen is directly saying he thinks laurent screwed him over—nikandros and the herald saying it and him not disagreeing, him accepting the reality that laurent is not going to show up—but he never does truly say that he thinks the abandonment was on purpose. because he didn’t, and he doesn’t, which makes sense. but he’s still angry and confused and also just concerned about how laurent is taking the “news” that he’s damianos. how much of damen’s anger about laurent’s composed appearance is projection of his anxiety about laurent seeing him as he truly is, a powerful authority figure in his own right who just won a battle against insane odds?

it’s so ambiguously written that it’s almost like pacat WANTS us to spiral. which i did, and will probably continue to do, so well-played. these books are like evil catnip to anxious overthinking theater people with attachment issues and an interest in understanding complex fictional situations to cope with the fact that real life never makes enough sense. also kinky gays but let's be real that's just a trojan horse for the other stuff

‘And you do.’ Damen looked at the arrangement of Laurent’s weight, the careful way he was holding his body. Laurent’s left hand was still casually resting against the tent pole. Deliberately, he stepped forward, and clasped Laurent’s right shoulder. Nothing, for a moment. Damen tightened his grip, and ground in with his thumb. Harder. He watched Laurent turn ashen. Finally, Laurent said, ‘Stop.’

proving that he knows laurent well enough to pick up from his posture alone exactly where he’s been injured. also they’re both so messy, like let’s put pressure on each other’s literal and figurative wounds instead of just talking about our misconceptions and feelings, awesome

He let go. Laurent had wrenched back and was clutching his shoulder, where the blue of his doublet had darkened. Blood, welling up from some newly bandaged, subterranean place, and Laurent was staring at him, his eyes oddly wide. ‘You wouldn’t break an oath,’ said Damen, past the feeling in his chest. ‘Even to me.’

damen proving to himself, and proving to laurent, that he knows that laurent didn’t screw him over, and instead was injured and failed to show up. laurent is shocked by how quickly damen picked up on this. also ow

He had to force himself back.

he doesn’t want to see laurent in pain, or know that he’s causing it :( which is especially unfortunate given the conversation they’re about to have about damen murdering laurent’s brother

Laurent didn’t answer. He still had a hand clutched to his shoulder, his fingers sticky with blood. Laurent said, ‘Even to you?’

“you wouldn’t break an oath, even to me” (“even to me” being a sort of freudian slip, meaning “i killed your brother, and i’ve known that this whole time and i haven’t told you, and you have a good reason to hate me for that”) “even to you?” (to damen’s incomplete understanding: “well i know who you are now, and if i’d known before i would have broken every oath to you i’ve ever made”)

He made himself look at Laurent. The truth was an awful presence in his chest.

babygirl it’s about to get so much awfuller

He thought of the single night they had spent together. He thought of Laurent, giving himself, dark-eyed and vulnerable, and of the Regent, who knew how to break a man.

damen totally sees laurent as his “victim” right now, set up well by him re-opening laurent’s physical wound. damen fucked this man while knowing that he (damen) killed his (laurent’s) brother, and put trust in him. if they were normal, or this was a normal story, that’s where the confrontation would end. it would be that simple—damen didn’t mean to hurt laurent but still did, and laurent has to forgive him for that, and forgive himself for being fooled—and then it would get tearfully resolved because they love each other so much that it doesn't matter. but they are not normal, and this is not a normal story, so…

Outside, two armies were poised to fight. The moment was here, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He remembered the Regent’s constant suggestion: Bed my nephew. He had done that, wooed him, won him. Charcy, he saw, hadn’t mattered to the Regent. It hadn’t meant anything. The Regent’s real weapon against Laurent had always been Damen himself.

damen thinks the regent’s plan had been to weaken laurent by putting him in circumstances where he’d unknowingly make himself vulnerable with his brother’s killer, triggering him emotionally and destroying his judgment. i'm pretty sure that this was basically his intention, but had also made sure that it would also torture laurent even if he did recognize damen on the spot.

personally i think the regent knew that laurent knew in book 1 through observing his reaction, but had planned for both possibilities in advance. what he hadn't expected, though, was for laurent and damen to start genuinely working together instead of against each other. this happens early as the thing with patras, and really pops off during the botched assassination attempt.

charcy was meant to drive a wedge between them, to correct the regent's previous miscalculation. and given the inevitable truth damen must now reveal, there's nothing he can really do to stop laurent from being upset.

‘I’ve come to tell you who I am.’ Laurent was so keenly familiar, the shade of his hair, the strapped down clothing, the full lips that he held tense or cruelly repressed, the ruthless asceticism, the unbearable blue eyes. ‘I know who you are, Damianos,’ said Laurent. Damen heard it, as the interior of the tent seemed to change, so that all of the objects in it took on a different shape. ‘Did you think,’ said Laurent, ‘I wouldn’t recognise the man who killed my brother?’

the way i YELLED during my first read. i remember even like posting something before, like “oh my god damen just tell him put this poor man out of his misery,” and then after i got to this part i immediately went and deleted that post

Each word was an ice chip. Painful, sharp; a shard. Laurent’s voice was perfectly steady.

do you think he practiced this?

‘I knew in the palace, when they dragged you in front of me,’ said Laurent. The words continued, steady, relentless. ‘I knew in the baths when I ordered you flayed. I knew—’

he definitely practiced this

‘At Ravenel?’ said Damen.

“you knew when you kissed me and let me fuck you????”

‘If you knew,’ said Damen, ‘how could you—’ ‘Let you fuck me?’ His own chest hurt, so that he almost didn’t notice the signs of it in Laurent, the control, the face, pale at any time, now white.

he almost didn’t notice the signs, which means he still totally did. because even now, damen is attentive and caring towards laurent

‘I needed a victory at Charcy. You provided it. It was worth enduring,’ Laurent spoke the terrible, lucid words, ‘your fumbling attentions for that.’

LIARRRRRRR

It hurt so much it took the breath from his throat. ‘You’re lying.’ Damen’s heart was pounding. ‘You’re lying.’ The words were too loud. ‘You thought I was leaving. You practically threw me out.’ He said it, as the realisation blossomed inside him. ‘You knew who I was. You knew who I was the night we made love.’

tbh i think this kind of realization would make me have a panic attack on the spot. also do you think this is the kind of betrayal he’s been trying so hard to avoiding confronting, coming from kastor and jokaste? but here he has no choice to confront it, because laurent is forcing him to understand the depths of the deception. no avoiding it now

He thought of Laurent surrendering, not the first time, but the second, the slower, sweeter time, the tension in him, the way he had— ‘You weren’t making love to a slave, you were making love to me.’

very true, but laurent isn’t ready to deal with it. he can’t keep up the cognitive dissonance in the present, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to accept that it was real in the past. instead he’ll just lash out.

And he couldn’t think that through clearly but he could catch a glimmer of it, a glimmer of the edge of it. ‘I thought you wouldn’t, I thought you’d never—’

OF COURSE damen suspected, at some points, that laurent knew. but this tells us that he’d ultimately dismissed the notion because it would have been insane for laurent to kiss and fuck him, while knowing his real identity. “i thought you wouldn’t, i thought you’d never—“

this is similar to how i thought about it during my first read—i suspected for all of book 1, and some of book 2, but then figured that the story was taking a different direction because how the hell could the plot points of “laurent knows who damen is” and “laurent makes himself vulnerable to damen and does a romance/sex about it” possibly be compatible? laurent, a deeply traumatized and self-protective person, wouldn’t and would never. except i underestimated laurent’s capacity for self-delusion, and overestimated the amount of control he truly has over his emotions and impulses, beneath all the posturing. damen, here, is recognizing that he’s made similar miscalculations, and now he’s seeing laurent as he truly is. they’re both seeing each other, truly, for the first time.

‘Laurent, six years ago, when I fought Auguste, I—’ ‘Don’t you say his name.’ The words were forced out of Laurent. ‘Don’t you ever say his name, you killed my brother.’

i like the simplicity of this. just the plainness of “you killed my brother.” laurent’s language is so often clever and cagey and embellished, but that last sentiment is raw and informal, and what we the reader are probably screaming in our heads. because yeah, holy shit, damen killed laurent’s brother. it’s a pretty hard thing to argue against, or ignore. “you lied to me” “you killed my brother” “you flogged me” “you killed my brother” “you forgot to do the dishes” “you killed my brother”

Laurent was breathing shallowly, almost panting as he spoke, his hands rigid on the edge of the table behind him.

his practiced words are saying one thing, but his body is very obviously having a panic attack. this scene isn’t nearly as much of a laurent mean girl moment as it seemed during a rushed first read. that’s actually kind of a relief to me, bc it made me sad to interpret him as so heartless and unfazed the first time around. even if “hello lover” is an iconic moment, it’s a performance more than anything else. and pacat shows us this sooner than i recalled or first perceived. she’s not torturing us, the reader, as much as she’s torturing both damen and laurent. and it’s not even like a lazy misunderstanding kind of torture, this is genuinely complicated and they’re both in the wrong and they both are justified in this pain and hurt. i just couldn’t see that as well the first time, having binged like all of book 2 already and having no idea what would happen next and honestly just being shocked and betrayed and compelled by the massive mislead with laurent’s awareness of the situation

‘Is that what you want to hear, that I knew who you were and I still let you fuck me, my brother’s killer, who cut him down like an animal on the field?’

you know he doesn’t, laurent, that’s just what you’re telling yourself now that you’re forced to confront it. you started this scene with “hello lover” and your prepared speech, hoping to destroy damen emotionally, but once again you’ve just kinda played yourself. maybe just cool it with the emotional gambits for now, when it comes to damen, bc they only really seem to come back and hurt you (oh fuck he can’t hear me)

‘Shall I ask you how you did it? What he looked like when your sword went in?’ ‘No,’ said Damen.

laurent, shaking, pale, looks like he’s about to pass out: “you bastard, tell me about how you murdered my brother as i think about the fact that i let you fuck me in a similar way, go ahead just make it hurt more”

damen, not a therapist but still emotionally intelligent enough to know this isn’t really about punishing him: no, i don’t think i will. can you like sit down

‘Or shall I tell you about the illusion of the man who gave me good counsel. Who stood by me. Who never lied to me.’ ‘I never lied to you.’

that italicized “i” is interesting. is it an accusation of laurent’s own lying and hypocrisy, or a specification that damen never directly told laurent he wasn’t damianos? given damen’s well-established integrity, i’m guessing it’s the first option. again with the mutual moral arbitration. and damen wouldn’t want to take such a weak a cop-out as “well i never technically said it,” it’s just not typical of his character.

The words were awful in the silence that followed them. ‘“Laurent, I am your slave”?’ said Laurent. He felt the breath forced out from his lungs.

of course laurent takes it as the second option, though, and implies that by swearing himself to laurent and then bedding him damen was directly lying about his identity. because to laurent, damen =/= damianos. a slave can’t be a prince. so damianos, the prince, must have been intentionally lying about being damen, the slave. and that’s actually easier, and less painful, and less complicated to accept than any kind of nuanced alternative.

‘Don’t,’ he said, ‘talk about it like—’ ‘Like?’ ‘Like it was cold-blooded; like I controlled it. Like we didn’t both close our eyes and pretend I was a slave.’ He made himself say the exposing words. ‘I was your slave.’

he’s right. nothing much to add here. damen wasn't just literally laurent's slave, he had devoted himself emotionally as well, and he's admitting it here despite the fact that it makes him vulnerable—something laurent is too much of a (traumatized, understandable) coward to do himself. i love damen's characterization so much

‘There was no slave,’ said Laurent. ‘He never existed. I don’t know what manner of man stands before me now. All I know is that I am facing him for the first time.’ ‘He is here.’ His flesh ached as if he had been prised open. ‘We are the same.’

this gives us some insight to laurent’s actions in book 1—not necessarily excusing them, but making them fit better into what we’ve since learned about his moral code. it ties things together, which isn’t the same as making them simpler or easier to like. pacat is very very VERY good at establishing continuous moral ambiguity in her characters, and does not rush the slow burn of making ends meet. so when she does eventually begin to connect things, it’s satisfying, because it hasn’t been all been spelled out the whole time so readers don’t have to think for themselves. this, in reference to a lot of the series’s more problematic themes, is exactly why i think people end up seeing capri as apologism or glamorization. but by claiming that, i also think they’re exposing themselves as impatient, shallow, and (sorry) simply lazy.

but i don't just want to be reductive and uncharitable, because that would be shallow and lazy too. to be perfectly clear, i honestly can't blame people for disliking this series, and not being willing or able to have patience and understanding for its more problematic elements. this series is marketed as romance/erotica. it started as indulgent kink fic. it ended up evolving into its current state during its development—and i'm really glad it did, but that doesn't change the fact that so much of its marketing and premise imply certain things that it doesn't quite deliver. and if you look up the series today, as it's still being published years after its completion, it's still marketed in a way i find somewhat misleading. to the extent that when i picked it up, it was in an intentional attempt to expand my own horizons—i wanted to challenge myself with indulgent shameless problematic porn/romance, as opposed to the weak-ass "enemies" to lovers running rival bakeries gay romance novels with canva covers that haven't worked for me in the past. the logic was basically, "well, if i don't like romance on that side of the scale, maybe i'll like the opposite extreme, or at least learn more about what i don't like." and i did feel pretty challenged during book 1, to the point that for a while i only kept reading out of morbid curiosity and vague horniness rather than any genuine expectation of depth or satisfying storytelling. it was only around the assassination scene in book 1 that i started to see the book as something capable of more depth and intrigue than just like kinky debauchery, and it pretty much just snowballed from there. and as someone who frequently reads about these dark topics in other genres and contexts, i was familiar enough with the things happening on the page to at least stomach them and push foward.

however, if i was coming at the series from a different place—like if i loved cozy romance and had very little familiarity with reading about these topics—i can see the first book especially being very blindsiding and distressing, and not wanting to engage with it further. that's not laziness, it just means that the book wasn't for me.

and the nuance doesn't end there. one of the things i love most about this series is that, even if i was just looking for shameless slavekink porn and decidedly did not want to rise to the occasion of depth or thematic exploration, i would also walk away unsatisfied. because the truly problematic shit in these books is not shameless at all, and indulgence never comes without a cost. there are a few distasteful moments that make me roll my eyes, and the garden scene definitely prompts a Conversation—but as a whole, i think pacat is very aware of the moral implications of these themes. and i also think she's perfectly aware of the fact that many people get off on them.

this series almost feels like an accidental study of, like, the psychological implications of being a person compelled by dub-con and problematic kink, finding a sort of gratification in situations where those things ar kind of inevitable (like they are for damen in book 1). AND this is made even more complicated and brave by the fact that laurent is, very relevantly, a victim of serious sexual assault. like, as hot as some of the scenes in this book are, i really don't think it makes itself easy for people to just uncritically get themselves off to. it doesn't encourage shame, but it does encourage introspection. and a lot of people simply don't read erotica and romance to introspect. (couldn't be me though. if it isn't clear, i love the laurent of vere "having insane mindfucking sex fully clothed across the room" approach to eroticism).

i feel like it's actually kind of funny that i specifically got here, as a person who almost always reads books that force dark introspection, and assumed that this erotica/romance book would be mindless, but ended up with gestures vaguely instead. for me, coming across this series and realizing what it truly is was an incredibly happy accident. but for others, i completely understand how it could be the exact opposite, and it's not lazy or shallow to realize that you misunderstood what you were getting yourself into and step away.

what is lazy and shallow, though, is to either DNF and review based on those misconceptions, or keep reading simply to fuel your own disdain and discomfort. ultimately, i think that the true error of people who walk into capri wanting shameless porn or untroubling romance is the fact that they keep reading, even when it becomes clear that the book isn't doing that. and then they decide to evaluate the book based on expectations and standards that aren't the ones the author or fans have for the work itself. people seem to take out their anger towards the SUBJECTS of slavery or rape in fiction themselves on capri, rather then the way capri specifically portrays them. either because they fucking stopped reading the book and just wanted to go on a tangent on the topics in general, or hate-read to confirm their own pre-existing bias.

my point is, nobody has to read things that trigger or upset them, and it's okay to just pass on fictional stuff that makes you feel bad or frustrated. aspects of this series made me feel bad and frustrated, even on re-read, but i enjoy the intellectual and emotional exercise of exploring those feelings and better understanding the true meaning and purpose of the art. but there are certain topics in other works of fiction that i'm unwilling to explore, which would cause me to simply stop reading, and if asked for a review i'd just say that i'm not the right person to say. and there have been many times where i've continued reading a book, hoping it would change directions, and ended up just being like, "yeah, that wasn't for me," and moving on.

the exchange "there was no slave, he never existed" "here is here, we are the same" is almost a meta-commentary on the reception of the series as a whole. it would be dishonest to deny how this series started, and some of the themes and subjects it intentionally confronts. you can't say "there was no slave [kink], [it] never existed" because the narrative proceeded to be more of a commentary on kink rather than an uncritical display of it. kink, and dark topics in fiction in general, do all have depth, and while they might not be for everyone, they are for someone. exploring that depth is entirely optional, and i understand why people with certain experiences don't want anything to do with that exploration. but our personal tastes don't change the fact that subjects like slavery and rape exist, and that reality is inseparable from the stories that come from it. ultimately, the choice is whether we're willing to take that specific reality thoughtfully on, or else just walk away.

the people i have the hardest time with are the ones who choose neither of those options. like, what do you even get out of continuing to read something that you're unwilling to explore in good faith, or that you straight-up hate? just read something else. we only have so much time in the day. stop wasting yours, and stop wasting the time of people who actually enjoy the thing with your useless bad-faith criticism. sorry this tangent has totally departed from the chapter itself, but that really is what pisses me off so much about current-day online book culture. like, i'm thinking about all of those smug-looking booktubers making 2 hour videos called "i read [name of book that doesn't appeal to the lowest common denominator of people] so you don't have to." i know how long it takes to read books thoughtfully, and then to write, film, and edit videos. maybe stop wasting your own time and dig into something you love instead, or even try to make your own thing, and just hope that some smug asshole on the internet doesn't decide to do to your work what you've done to other people's work. but no, lazy cynicism and appealing to the easy gimmick of cringe is way more profitable, i guess. and it makes you less vulnerable to people criticizing work that came from your soul, because the work you're creating is completely soulless.

anyway. i wonder what kind of totally normal things damen and laurent are up to in the chapter i'm annotating

‘Kneel then,’ said Laurent. ‘Kiss my boot.’

"if you really are still a slave, even though we both know you’re a king, then do a demeaning slave thing right now"

He looked into Laurent’s excoriating blue eyes. The impossibility of it was like a sharp pain. He couldn’t do it. He could only gaze at Laurent across the distance between them. The words hurt. ‘You’re right. I’m not a slave,’ he said.

can’t indulge in the kink anymore by circumstantial necessity, but i’m sure they’ll find something even weirder to do instead on purpose

‘I am the King.’ He said, ‘I killed your brother. And now I hold your fort.’ As he spoke, Damen drew out a knife. He felt rather than saw all of Laurent’s attention swing to it. The physical signs were small: Laurent’s lips parted, his body tensed. Laurent didn’t look at the knife. He kept his eyes on Damen, who looked right back at him. ‘So you will parley with me as with a king, and you will tell me why you called me here.’ Deliberately, Damen tossed the knife onto the floor of the tent.

okay this is just extra of him, but i mean laurent got to do “hello lover” so damen deserves to be dramatic too as a treat. i also like what this symbolizes, as opposed to their previous knife moments. as defined by their stations, they don’t have a power imbalance anymore, and they don’t have a reason to be enemies. they are a prince and a king, not a master and a slave. they are military allies, teaming up against the regent. any power imbalance and beef they have now is emotional, complicated, and abstract, nothing clear-cut (haha) enough to be represented by an instrument of simple violence like a knife. and damen summarizes this perfectly, in the context of their previous knife moments, by viscerally reminding laurent of those encounters and then just tossing the thing across the room.

honestly, i bet laurent feels jealous of the clever performative gesture. and maybe a little turned on, too, despite the horrors. that’s a fun reversal.

‘Didn’t you know?’ said Laurent. ‘My uncle is in Akielos.’

yeah, he got a really good all-inclusive deal at the akielion sandals resort and needed a vacation after all of the murder and [redacted]

[raya-hunter01]

Fade Into You Part. 2

Prequel Lights, Camera, Action!

Jey Uso x Black Female OC! (Shantell)

Roman x Black Female OC! Tangela

Solo x Black Female OC! Sofia

Jimmy x Trin

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; oral, sex, fluff, masturbation

FADE INTO YOU

Summary: This is the Prequel for Lights, Camera, Action! How does an outburst on your first day lead to a lifelong friendship with the Tribal Chief Roman Reigns and the stands the test of time. How does that friendship introduce you to a special group of people that will become your family.  

When did the lines get blurred between friendship and wanting a relationship with one of your best friends Mr. Main Event Jey Uso. Follow the friendships, and relationships of how they all came to be the one big happy family we all know and love in Lights, Camera, Action.

Times Square August 2018

Manhattan, New York

“This place is amazing.” I said taking in the experience and people as Joe was showing me downtown Manhattan. “Come on, you gotta try a hot dog, they be busin’,” Joe said continuing to walk as I stopped in my tracks mesmerized by a movie trailer playing on the big screen.

“Hey, why did you stop? Joe asked coming over to see what had caught my eye.

“That’s amazing, I said pointing up at the larger-than-life screen in awe as Joe smiled at me. “You know your movie trailers are gon’ be playin’ up there someday,” he said as I laughed. “Oh, stop teasing me Joe,” I said waving him off as we continued our walk.

“I’m serious Shantell, you gon’ do amazing things and I can’t wait to cheer you on,” Joe said kissing my hand as I blushed.

“Well speak it into the atmosphere bestie,” I said smiling at him as we continued our search for a hotdog vendor.

“So, did Jey tell you about the new Candy development? Joe asked as I frowned at him. “No, what’s going on now? I asked as he sighed almost as if he was trying to find the right words to say.

“She had her lawyer contact Jey today, she all of a sudden wants a reconciliation. Mind you his brother just saw the other man at the house the other day,” he said as I growled in frustration.

“ I swear the more people tell me about this chick the more I want to punch her in the fuckin’ throat,” I said honestly as Joe laughed.  Wincing in pain I rubbed my side. “What was that?” Joe asked instantly moving my hand, rubbing my side where my hand had been.

“It’s nothing, I just had a sharp pain that caught me off guard. It’s gone now,” I said as he seemed to not be buying my answer.

“You sure, I mean cause doc can check you out at the building,” Joe said checking me over.

“I’m good stop worrying,” I reassured him as we finally found a vendor and got a few hotdogs. We spent a good portion of the afternoon just exploring the city.

-------

Smackdown

Madison Square Garden

Shantell’s POV

“So, you actually behind a camera tonight? Jimmy asked as Tevin was helping me set up my camera. “Yes, I’m over your segment, we are going to run it on the after-show,” I said as Jimmy smiled. "I see they tryin’ to make these big moves to use you. That’s what’s up," Jimmy said as I smiled.

“Is it too heavy?” Tevin asked coming behind me trying to help me as I was trying to get used to the camera. “Nah, I think I’ll be good as long as I ain’t got to hold it long,” I said honestly as Tevin laughed putting his hands on my hips trying to keep me steady.

“Aye, no funny business, I got my eyes on you,” Jimmy said eying Tevin suspiciously as Tevin scoffed. I couldn't help but look at Jimmy horrified.

“I can assure you I’m a professional, Mr. Uso,” Tevin said as I gave Jimmy a look to shut up.

“Thanks, Tevin I want to put it down now since we’ve got a few minutes and we’re still waiting on Jey,” I said as he grabbed the camera off my shoulder.

I could hear the shuffle of feet in a steady jog. “Aye, I’m here ya’ll I had a meeting with Paul,” Jey said coming over as I smiled at him. Ok, I’ll admit it, I’m crushin’ bad.

“No problem, you didn’t have to rush,” I assured him as I took a deep breath dreading putting the camera on my shoulder, my side was already killing me.

“Ok, I need ya’ll by the fence,” I said walking over as they joined me. “Where do you want us,” Jey asked as I looked around at the lighting. “Jey on my left Jimmy pivot into Jey so I can do this in a tight shot,” I said as Jimmy and Jey looked confused.

 “What the hell is a tight shot?” Jimmy said as I hit him on the shoulder jokingly. “Just trust me, I got ya’ll,” I said as they were trying to put their heads together bouncing ideas off of each other.

Jey’s POV

I have no clue what my brother is saying in this fuckin promo, I’m too focused on this motherfucka Tevin here finding every reason to touch Shantell.

I feel my fist tighten as I see him place his hands on her hips as she leaned up on her tiptoes.

Slowly growlin’ I opened my mouth slightly to show off my new grill.

“Tell’em all what we bout to do Jey,” Jimmy said as I I rubbed my hands together. “We back like we never left and we comin’! We comin’ for what’s ours, you looking at the soon-to-be Smackdown tag team champions! Wellllcoome!!! To the Uso Penatenturary!!  I shouted as Jimmy and me mean mugged the camera. I almost didn't see Shantell’s hand counting us down but we had it right before she yelled cut.

“Hell yea, ya’ll did great,” Shantell said as Tevin took the camera off her shoulder.

“Thanks, Shan,” I said giving her a hug shooting Tevin a look as he looked nervous. Yea, I know what you tryin to do and it ain’t gon’ work. Hands off this one bruh.

“Are you comin’ out wit us tonight?” Jimmy asked Shantell as she shook her head no. “Nah, I’m tired. I’m going to call home, check on my grandmother, and turn it in,” Shantell said.

“Well, I’ll owe you a drink in the next town,” I said as she smiled at me before her phone went off.

“Sorry ya’ll Paul is calling me,” she said walking off privately to take her call. “Aye, when you gon’ tell Shantell you feelin’ her?” Jimmy said as I frowned at him.

 “I ain’t feelin’ her..I mean she’s cool, but she my Uce, that’s it. I told you I ain’t into dating nobody. I got too much shit goin’ on to bring anybody into this shit,” I said as Jimmy rolled his eyes.

“Well ok, that’s yo ass when she’s on somebody else’s arm. Then she really gon’ be just yo damn Uce,” Jimmy said walking away leaving me in my thoughts.

I mean did I really like Shantell?…… Nah, it can't be... We're just friends.

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

Time Square

Manhattan, New York

Jimmy’s POV

Jey and I hit a few bars tonight and got pretty damn lit. “Aye, where we at?” Jey asked as I laughed. “Shit, I don’t know see this why I wanted Trin to come wit us,” I said laughing pulling out my phone trying to focus.

“Aye, man this some bullshit,” Jey said as I tried to focus my eyes but my vision was blurry as fuck and I accidently pressed the live button on my Instagram. “Shit, how you turn this off,” I said trying to find the end live button as Jey grabbed my phone.

“Give me the fuckin phone, we fuckin lost in Time Square," Jey snickered as I laughed myself. “Oh my god it’s the Usos!” we heard someone say as I turned, seeing the guy coming closer to us as Jey laughed. “It’s the fuckin’ Usos! I exclaimed in an excited voice having a little fun with the fan.

“We lost in Time Square, now look at this motherfucka,” Jey said turning the phone on the fan as we continued to laugh. Then I saw Jey’s eyes get wide, a sudden realization dawned on him. I started to see more people making their way towards us and it hit me as well.

 “Oh, shit we in a bad predicament, oh fuck we gotta go,” Jey said somewhat sober now. “We gon hit another bar?” I asked as Jey rolled his eyes “Hell nawl, we gotta go,” Jey said passing me my phone.

Trying to think of a way to end my live I began talking with a bit more sense. “Aye, uh, right now we gon’ head out,” I said as the fan interrupted me. “Can I get a photo really quick?” he asked as I looked at him unsure of what to say.

“Shit, turn it off Jon,” Jey said finally finding the button ending my live. “Man, you always getting me in shit,” Jey said as I rolled my eyes as we took a quick picture with the fan before continuing our way back to the hotel.

“I didn’t put no drink to yo mouth and make you drink it,” I said as he shook his head. “You might as well come on bro, get the bitch off yo mind, take a load off,” Jey mocked as I tried to shift the blame.

“See why you gotta bring up old shit?” I said as Jey ran his hands over his face. Well at least one of us was sobering up…

-----

Embassy Suites

Shantell’s POV

Sitting on the balcony I finally felt relaxed, and I was finally feeling better. I was slowly dozing as my phone startled me, looking down I saw I got a notification on Instagram saying Jimmy had been live. “What the hell he goin’ live for at two in the morning?” I muttered clicking on his live.

“Oh my god,” I whispered watching the live in horror until it abruptly ended. “What the hell were they thinking?" I said to myself trying to calm down as heard commotion down below that seemed to be close by. I knew…Well I hoped it was them making it back safely.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered going back into my room, slipping on some sweats along with my shoes, quickly grabbed my key. I opened my door and almost collided with Trin. "I can’t reach Jimmy nor Jey, have you heard from them?” she asked frantically as I dragged her hand, steering her towards the elevator.

“I think they are close by," I said as Trin wiped her tears. “I just don’t know what to do about Jimmy and this drinking. Now he got Jey out here acting stupid too,” she cried as I rubbed her back.

“Hey, he’s ok…and ya’ll are going to figure it out. Jey’s gon’ figure his shit out too, you gotta believe that,” I said trying to not freak out on this elevator that was moving so slow.

Jey’s POV

“Damn I ain’t got my key,” I muttered searching through my pockets as Jimmy was leaning up against the wall outside the hotel.

“Aye, can I stay wit you tonight? Trin gon’ kill me, I said I was only gon’ have two drinks. I can’t walk in the room like this, “Jimmy said somewhat sobering up.

“Glad you starting to sober up, but didn’t you hear me say I can’t find my fuckin’ key!” I screamed as Jimmy laughed.

“Excuse me, could you both keep it down people are trying to sleep around here. If you can’t keep it down we will have to call the proper authorities,” an older gentleman bellhop said as Jimmy rolled his eyes stepping to the guy.

“How about you mind yo fuckin business,” he said as I saw Shantell and Trin come out of the hotel. I would rather be anywhere than here looking at their faces right now.

“Ah hell,” I whispered as Trin walked up to Jimmy. “I’m sorry for my husband’s outburst, he’s just had a lot going on. I’m going to take him to bed now, “Trin said as Jimmy’s face softened.

“Hey baby!” he started as her cold stare made him zip his lips as she took him by the hand guiding him inside.  “I can’t believe you out here acting a fuckin fool, shit doesn’t make no sense. I’m getting real sick of the shit,” I heard her say as Jimmy hung his head.

Yeah, he was gon’ have a long day tomorrow groveling. My eyes met Shantell’s as she sighed looking around at everything but me. “Now what you gotta say?” I asked in a harsh tone as I saw Shantell look at me shaking her head in disbelief. “What are you talking about?” Shantell asked looking intently at me.

“Look I see how you lookin’ at me. What you ready to scold me, and judge me like everybody else? Just nagging like my damn wife do,” I accused, as Shantell looked at me in disappointment and sadness.

I knew I was wrong as fuck; and reckless with how I was speaking with her. This is why I hate drinking; I say shit I can’t take back and lines get crossed.

I knew Shantell was bout to let me have it as I watched the emotions play out across her face and I deserved it.

“First of all who the hell you think you talkin’ to? I ain’t yo wife and I damn sure ain’t your woman and even if i was you wouldn't talk to me that way.  All I was going to say is that you don’t need to be putting yourself in situations like that.  Anything could have happened Jey. I could hear ya’ll on my balcony and I just came down to make sure ya’ll were good,” Shantell said as I sighed in defeat and understanding because I couldn’t find the right words to say.

“I really thought after everything that happened last week, you would know that I would never do that to you, or anybody for that matter,” she whispered as I groaned in frustration knowing I had hurt her feelings with my accusations.  

“Shantell I’m sorry,” I started as she cut me off bluntly.” I’m sorry to," she said pausing, rubbing her temples. The silence spoke louder than any words as we both were trying to process the conversation.

 “You know what Jey?  I’m not sorry because as your friend I’m supposed to tell you when you fuckin’ up. You know why…Because that’s what real friends do. So I’m telling you to your face don’t fuck up everything you worked so hard for, do better,” she said as I nodded.  

“Look you right, I gotta do better.  I didn't mean to come at you like that, I’m drunk and I ain’t thinkin’ clearly,” I said as she bit her lip.

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you both got back safe and ya’ll weren’t behind the wheel of a car. I’ll just holla at you later, good night, Josh,” she said walking back inside the hotel.

“Uh! You dumb fuck,” I whispered to myself as I saw her getting on the elevator, my heart dropping to my stomach as I saw her wiping tears from her eyes as the doors on the elevator closed.

"Excuse me, sir, I don’t mean to get in your business but women like that are the ones you don’t take for granted. That’s a real one right there, you betta go make it right young man before you lose her,” the bellhop said as I sighed.

“I will OG, but I want to say I’m sorry bout being loud and everything, just had a lot going on,” I said as he smiled.

“No harm, just take care of yourself,” he said as I shook his hand and began my journey up to Shantell’s room.

Now how the hell was I gon’ make this up to her?

-----

Shantell’s POV

 Shantell save yourself you’re going to get hurt,” I said to myself getting ready for bed as I heard a knock on my door. I knew who it was, and I wasn’t in the mood.

“Go away Jey,” I whispered softly against the door as I heard him mutter something under his breath I couldn’t make out. “What did you say?” I asked hearing him take a deep breath.

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry again. I know you were just worried and lookin’ out for me,” he said as I contemplated opening the door.

“Jey, it’s ok just go sleep it off. We’ll talk tomorrow when you’re more sober,” I said as I heard him turn the doorknob. “Shan, can I come in? I just don’t want to end the night like this,” Jey said as I sighed slowly giving in unlocking the door, and letting him in.

 “I’m sorry Shantell, It’ll never happen again,” he whispered taking me in his arms catching me off guard. “It’s ok,” I whispered enjoying being in his arms minus the strong stench of alcohol radiating off of him.

“Do you want some water?” I asked as he pulled away, going straight to my bed kicking off his shoes before laying down. “Nope, I just wanna lay wit you and talk. I don’t want to be alone tonight," he said as his gaze held mine.

"Why do you want to be here?" I whispered softly as Jey smiled at me."I sleep better when I’m wit you,” he said as I rolled my eyes but deep down it made my heart flutter.

“How you got that lil attitude with me a little while ago I should make yo ass go to your own room,” I said as he looked at me with a pout.

“Come on, I said I was sorry Shantell; it won’t happen again;” he said beckoning me with his finger licking his lips. Fuck he’s sexy and the problem is he knows it.

 “I know yo ass better not throw up on me,” I said scrunching up my face is disgust at the thought. “Nah, I can hold my shit, I don’t throw up,” Jey said as he sat up and took off his shirt.

Whoa! What you doin’ Magic Mike?” I asked blushing looking at his beautiful chest and tattoos. “I’m getting ready for bed, you comin’ over here, or do I need to come get you,” Jey said without missing a beat now unbuckling his pants.  His cockiness sending a shiver down my spine.

“Well Mr. I can hold my shit, you need take a shower first if you plan on layin’ in my bed because you stank," I said as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“Oh it’s like dat?" he asked smirking at me, getting outta of bed.

“Yeah, it is, and brush your teeth there’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom,” I said as he licked his lips.

“You tryin’ to get me all clean, you must tryin’ to take advantage of me,” Jey whispered invading my space as tried to calm my nerves. “Jey go take a shower,” I whispered as I felt his hands wrap around my waist.

“You know what I realized when we were on that trip? Jey asked as I looked at him intently. “What did you realize?” I asked as he pulled me closer.

It was almost like he was having an internal war with himself. “Nothin’ I’ll tell you when the time is right,’ Jey whispered his lips almost grazing my mine as I involuntarily moaned, turning my head before our lips met as his soft lips met my cheek.

“Jey we can’t,” I whispered pulling away as he nodded in agreement. “I know, and I’m sorry I even put you in this type of situation,” Jey said running his fingers through his hair before retreating to the bathroom to shower.

I released the breath I was holding looking at the bathroom door in relief. Yeah, that's definitely the alcohol talking. I knew tonight was going to be a long night for me, but I welcomed it because he was here and he safe.

-------

Monday Night Raw

United Arena, Chicago, IL

Jey’s POV

“Jey it’s fine, stop apologizing, I’m not mad,” Shantell said trying to set up the show monitors as I watched her.

“I just want to make sure I treated you with the upmost respect. I know how I can get when I drink,” I said honestly as she stopped working to look at me.

“What’s the last thing the remember from last night,” she asked as I thought long and hard. “The last thing I remember is you letting me into your room and the rest is a straight blur,” I said trying to rack my brain trying to figure out what happened.

I saw Shantell lower her head and I felt bad instantly and I didn’t even know what I did wrong.

“Did anything happen?” I asked almost scared of the answer as she smiled softly at me. “No, you were a perfect gentleman, so rest easy,” she said rubbing my shoulder.

Shantell’s POV

He didn’t remember that he almost kissed me, I guess that was a good thing even though it stung a little. “I’m glad I behaved; I normally get horny as fuck when I drink,” Jey said as I blushed, playfully hitting his shoulder. “I can’t believe you just said that,” I said laughing as he smiled at me brightly as his phone rang.

“Damn she won’t stop calling. Her lawyer recommended marriage counseling before we make a decision, but I want this divorce,” Jey said looking at me in search of advice and understanding. It’s crazy how in sync we are, it’s almost scary.

“Hey, maybe ya’ll can work it out. Just keep your guard up,” I said rubbing my side. Ok, this pain is getting on my nerves. “Ow, that hurt,” I winced rubbing my side as Jey rubbed my shoulder.

“You alright?” Jey asked as I phone rang again. “Yea, I’m good. You take your call, I got to finish helping the crew get set up for tonight,” I said giving him a quick hug before walking away.

“Candy why you keep calling back to back? I know how to return a call when I ain’t busy. You know I’m at work,” I heard Jey say as I shook my head.  I pray he can walk away from that chaos.

Jey’s POV

“Jey we both agreed to counseling, please just come to a session,” Candy begged as I tried to keep my cool as my lawyer suggested.

“I will let you know when I’m off so we can maybe do a session, but my answer is still the same Candy. I want a divorce,” I said honestly as I saw Shantell helping with the set.

“I just want to make this work, I think we can get back on track,” Candy said as I tried to focus on her what she was saying but Shantell didn’t look right to me. Something was wrong.

“Aye, I’ll call you back later or my lawyer will hit you up,” I said hanging up before she could respond.  The closer I got to Shantell the more I knew I was right. “Hey, you a’ight,” Shantell?” I asked as I seen her eyes began to roll back in her head.  “Aye! Somebody help,” I yelled catching her in my arms, placing her gently on the floor.

“Hey, wake up Shantell,” I encouraged truly scared as Stu kneeled beside me. “Somebody call 911 and go get doc!”  Stu yelled checking Shantell’s pulse. “She’s breathing, thank god,” he whispered as I stroked her hair gently.

“Come on Shantell wake up now, you scaring me,” I whispered as I heard her moan in pain slowly coming to, grabbing her stomach.

Shantell’s POV

This pain has gotten worse, and I can’t hide it anymore. “You ok Shantell, you scared us baby,” Jey said as I tried to get up.

Did he just call me baby? Get it together Shantell, you just scared the shit outta the man.  “I’m ok, just help me get up,” I whispered grabbing my side.

“No, you ain’t ok, now don’t move,” Jey said as the pain became more intense. I tried to control my tears, but the pain was too much.

“It hurts so bad Josh,” I finally cried as he held me in his arms. “Hang on, help is coming. Shan” he said trying to remain strong, but I could tell he was scared.

“What the hell happened?” Joe said running up as I balled up in a ball in Jey’s lap trying any way I could to try to ease the pain. “She passed out and scared the fuck outta me. Now she’s complaining of pain,” Jey said holding me close as Joe pulled out his phone.

“Don’t you dare!” I screamed as Joe shook his head in defiance. I knew who he was about to call.

 “No! I’m calling your mama, and your ass is going to the hospital, “Joe said leaving no room for argument. “Shantell, how long have you been hurting?” Mike asked as I looked at him afraid.

“Come on Shantell tell me sweetie,” he encouraged as another pain hit.

“It’s been off and on for about two weeks I guess,” I groaned as Joe frowned at me. “What the hell you mean two weeks!? Really Shan two weeks,” Joes scolded as I groaned in pain.

“Aye! Uce, she hurtin’, and I know you worried but doin' this ain’t helpin’,” Jey said stopping Joe’s rant.

“I’m gon' step over here and call your mom, I'll be back in a second,” Joe said walking away as I tried to hold it together.

“Joe’s mad at me,” I cried as Jey shushed me. “His ass will be ok, he’s just worried about you. We all worried about you," Jey said holding me tight now he said as the EMTs finally arrived.

Joe’s POV

“Hey, Joey how are you?” Tanya said as I smiled in spite of the situation. “Hey ma,  I’m good. I hate to call you like you but Shantell is sick and before you freak out she seems fine, just havin’ some pain. The EMTs are trying to get her ready to transport her to the hospital,” I said trying to calm her down before she got upset.

“What hospital are they taking her to, I’m about to book a flight to Chicago,” Tanya said as I saw the EMT’s now putting Shantell on a stretcher as Jey came over to me.  “What hospital?” I asked as Jey seemed to be focused on Shantell.

“They takin’ her to Mercy General,” he said as I relayed the message to Tanya. “Joe take care of my baby, I’m on my way,” Tanya said as l released the breath I was holding

“I got her ma, I’ll see you when you get here,” I said falling in line with Jey walking with EMT’s to the ambulance.

“We can allow one rider to come on board.  Does she have anyone to ride with her?” the EMT said as Jey, and I looked at each other. “I’m goin’ wit her," Jey said patting me on the shoulder before I could even get my words together. The ambulance doors slammed shut as Jey climbed in and sat beside shantell, grasping her hand to reassure her he was there.

The sirens blaring made me scared to even think about what was going on in the inside of that ambulance but I hoped Shantell would be ok.

---------

Mercy General Hospital, Chicago, IL

Shantell’s POV

“It’s a good thing you came in Shantell. The problem isn’t appendicitis, it’s your ovaries. Now your right ovary is in horrible condition, and you have adhesions all over your pelvic wall,” the doctor said showing the results.

 “How does this work? I mean what happens to the ovary?” I asked as the doctor. touched my knee in support. “It’s badly damaged, we need to remove it,” he said as felt the tears coming.

“How can you do that, I mean how will I be able to have children?” I asked wiping my tears. “I’m going to be honest with you. It’s going to be very hard for you to have children due to the damage, but I feel we will know more after we get in there,” he said as I nodded not wanting to hear anymore.

I’m damaged, and I probably will never be a mom. “I know it’s a lot, but I promise I will take of you Shantell. We need to move fast;” he said as the nurse came in to administer the medication to get me comfortable before they take me to the OR.

I saw Jey a few steps behind coming to take a seat beside my bed as I tried and miserably failed to keep my tears at bay.

"Are you ok beautiful?" Jey asked as I shook my head yes, wiping the few tears that had escaped.

“You sure you, ok?” Jey asked again, holding my hand as I’m trying to hold it together.

“Well, I’m trying, it’s not every day you’re at work, collapse, and they tell you they need to do emergency surgery to take out one of your ovaries,” I say as Jey leans over wiping my tears away.

“You gon’ be ok,” he reassures me with a smile. His wife is a lucky woman, I hope they work it out their issues. I just appreciate how much of a great friend he’s been to me. He even rode in the ambulance with me here.

“I’m going to be damaged; the doctor says having kids is going to be hard for me,” I say trying to keep my tears at bay.

“You ain’t gon’ be damaged, you everything Shan. A man would be lucky to have you, I mean you could adopt. You can do the thing where you let somebody carry the baby for you,” he says fumbling a little over his words. 

“Well, I’m glad your positive about this,” I say throwing him a small smile. “A few of my family members are adopted, and we love them just the same, they blood, “he whispers kissing my hand.

 “You’re so nice to me,” I say feeling the drugs taking effect, trying to force my eyes to stay open.  “You stuck wit me too, yo' ass is in the family now. He says staring at me smiling lightly.  “Just sleep, everybody will be here when you wake up baby,” Jey says as I finally let sleep take over.

-------

Mercy General Hospital, Chicago, IL

Tanya’s POV

“You really know how to do it up big don’t you. Your last show being an intern for these folks, and you fall yo ass out, on the job,” I said trying to lighten the mood as Shantell shifted in bed trying to get comfortable.

“Oh, you really funny,” Shantell whispered as Joe tried to feed her some Jello. “Joe, I ain’t had no food in almost twelve hours. I’m hungry ya’ll, this ain’t cool,” she whined as Joe snickered. She slowly chewed the jello he placed in her mouth frowning as Joe shook his head at her antics.

 “I sent Jey at you some soup from a deli I saw down the street, so just be patient,” Joe said leaning over, gently kissing Shantell on the forehead as she sighed.

Oh, my goodness, they would be such a cute couple, but Shantell keeps stressing to me they are just friends. I could totally see him being my son-in-law.

“I’m back with the soup ya’ll,” Jey said coming in as Shantell smiled brightly. Now wait a damn minute now….Is she smiling about the food or is she smiling because he’s back?

I didn’t have to wait long for my answer as Joe moved, and Jey took his spot.

“I got you some chicken noodle soup,” Jey said taking the lid of the soup as I looked at my daughter in awe. “Thank you,” Shantell whispered as he began to feed her. The way they interact wit each other ain't fooling me one damn bit.

 Oh, yeah miss thing we gon talk about this one when we get home. It seems I have missed a whole new development.

My baby was in love with Joe’s cousin Jey, and if my mind ain’t playin’ tricks on me he looks just as smitten with her.

What the hell is going on?

Taglist: @reci24 @southerngirl41 @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl

@melaninsugababy @romanreignkisser @bebesobrielo

@arination99 @2-muchsauce @bakugoumarianawrites

@empressdede @alyyaanna @christinabae @anonandwannakeepitthatway @venusesworld

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and a Basket Case: Chapter Two: Made in Heaven

From the Delulu Writer: You’re going to realize that I don’t write short fics. This was straight from Google Docs mobile. I don’t know how long this is, so fuck it we ball. I’m hoping the generous Eddie POV helps break this aversion to longer fics.

Warnings: Flight of Icarus spoilers, references to drug use, minor suicide mention.

[Masterlist] - Chapter One - Chapter Two (You are Here) - [Latest]

***

The ’85-’86 academic year had to be his year.

It had to be.

It was his last shot. The last hoorah. He had just barely made the cutoff age for the academic year, and it was a miracle in itself that Principal Higgins had a modicum of decency to give him a break and let him even try to attend school again. He would be cutting it too close for comfort, and during the summer Eddie Munson had promised his uncle that he would get his head out of his ass this time around. No more screw ups. No more bullshit scams.

That promise was made in summer, when he was still able to sleep in, hotbox the feelings of shame and guilt away in his van, and gorge on junk food during unholy hours of the early morning before passing out until noon.

Now that he was being jolted awake by both the shrill sound of the radio alarm, and his uncle was kicking his mattress to wake him up at four thirty in the morning before he’d even gotten a good chance at sleep, Eddie was ready to throw in the fucking towel. Bitter thoughts swarmed in his mind.

Fuck it. Kick me out of school. See if I give two shits.

He was at the point where he was forgetting what was important. Last year was a year of losses. Almost losing the Hellfire Club to bullshit blackmail orchestrated by a sadistic son of a bitch of a principal that he did not fully trust. Ronnie had at least reached out via letter after a time, and she sent a few clipped sentences written with an electric typewriter all the way from New York whenever she had enough money left over from dorm expenses to buy postage stamps. But Dougie had gone nuclear. Never quite forgiving his friend for what he had almost undone.

And then there was Paige…

Eddie had been thinking of that mess nonstop the first day back for some reason, running late stuck behind a green Dodge with wood paneling while also battling the commuters during the clusterfuck that constituted rush hour in Hawkins, Indiana. He didn’t know why he was in such a hurry when that morning he’d been ready to give up all over again. Emotions were running high and low, he felt like he was trapped on a broken-down roller coaster falling apart on a shoddy side of the road carnival. Wanting to jump off, throw up, scream, and cry all at once as the reality of everything set in.

Eddie Munson had fucked everything up. Once in a lifetime opportunities lost to the ages in the year of 1984.

’86 had to be his year. Otherwise, he had nothing else left.

He was on his way to his locker when a string bean of a freshman wearing khakis and a button down polo from the GAP slammed into him from behind. Eddie immediately turned around to catch him before he hit the ground, asking the dazed boy if he was okay, confirming it was so, then looking towards the source. He assumed it was a jock, it always was, but he saw no suspicious hunter green letterman jackets lurking in the throng of students looking to get to their classes.

And then there was the gaggle of girls laughing and pointing, but he couldn’t see the object of their teasing because once he came within five feet of their gaggle they saw Eddie the Freak and bolted. So far the first day back was shaping up to be one of those weird days, whispers abound of some bitch of a basket case wandering around dressed for a cold front in August.

For obvious reasons, Eddie was intrigued. A bitch of a basket case was new. Especially ones wearing winter coats in summer when the humidity drowned you before the heat got to you. He doubted there was any merit to the rumors truth be told, but he had to see it for himself. He searched high and low, ditching his first period class to see if he could catch a glimpse. And then like an answer to his prayers he heard a siren call:

Metallica on cassette. Kill ‘Em All Album. Side 1. Approximately thirty nine minutes and six seconds into the album. Track number nine. Seek and Destroy.

Blasting so goddamned loud that from his distance it sounded faint, but he knew that whoever was listening to it directly would be deaf before their twenty-first birthday.

He saw you beelining for the front door, and instantly Eddie was fascinated by you. Sure enough you were all bundled up in your quilted Carhartt jacket like a blue collar worker braving a blizzard, gray skirt swishing as you power walked down the hall. The music beckoned to him, and the Black Sabbath patch on your blue backpack encouraged him to follow. Despite the stormy look on your face and the fuck off aura radiating from you, Eddie couldn’t help but allow the admiration to take over. He wasn’t intimidated, he wasn’t repulsed by your demeanor or appearance. Quite the contrary, Eddie could see something in the way your body communicated to the world:

You were a lost, pathetic little lamb trying to butt heads with everyone and everything, unaware that the world was fanged and scary and could spit you out in a malformed bolus should it desire.

And yet you still kept trying to fight back.

It was as if his body was moving of his own accord. His heart knew before his brain could logically process what was happening. A compulsion, his inner wild child, sent signals to his feet to quicken his pace as he raced after you, adrenaline coursing through him as he heard nothing but the steady pace of your gait matching the pulse of Seek and Destroy. Eddie didn’t stop until he was so close he was breathing in your scent, and in a sudden burst of confidence, both hands flashed out and snatched you by the backpack straps, pulling you in until you were flush against him. He yanked off your headphones, getting in close until his lips were grazing the shell of your ear.

“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess. Metallica, right?”

Your scream cut off the last bit, and he held onto you like he was holding a wild stallion steady as you jumped nearly ten feet in the air. You were still pressed with your backpack to his chest, your own little chest heaving with fear.

“FUCK ME FREDDY!” You hollered. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Eddie laughed hard as he spun you around to face him, hands steadying your shoulders as he looked you in the eye with a large smile on his face.

“Sorry, sorry… Relax. Didn’t mean to scare you there. But hey, at least that got your attention, right?”

You hit the pause button on your Walkman and killed the music, looking up with a stormy and defiant expression. Eddie realized something when you looked at him: you had been hiding behind fear. Your eyes, minimized by the thick coke bottle lenses within the frames of your glasses, began to soften when you looked at him. He could see the tightly wound tension leave your body as you relaxed. Your facade was slipping. Before him was an individual army crawling through hell to survive.

“You uh… you heard my music huh?” you said quietly.

Eddie grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

“Oh yeah. From all the way down the hall. You like Metallica?” he asked.

“Uh huh…”

Eddie grinned at the shy answer. God… You were adorable.

“Hell yeah, good taste. Metallica is one of my favorites too.”

He noticed you weren’t much for eye contact. As much as he tried to meet your gaze you wouldn’t look right at him. It seemed as if you were closing yourself off from everyone, a purposeful and calculated act. Understandable if he was being honest. Your eyes were red rimmed and your nose was still dripping a little bit. The morning must not have been kind. For a moment he saw your vulnerability, and it endeared him to you.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.” he said gently, holding out his hand.

“Eddie?” You cocked your head to the side, sweet little face looking up at him as if expecting a trick.

“Yup.” he popped the consonant at the end, and he tried to give you a sweet disarming smile to show his sincerity, “That’s me, Eddie Munson.”

Gently, slowly, he felt your warm hand envelop his. He shook it just enough; not too firm of a handshake that he scared you off, but not so weak that it seemed he didn’t want to touch you. Because if the way his heart was racing at the feel of your warm palm against his was any indication, he very much did want to touch you, and he wanted to make sure you knew it.

A few seconds ticked by, and you finally told him your name after letting go of his hand. He noticed at first that you seemed to try saying something else, but you quickly corrected yourself. Eddie repeated your name slowly. It suited you. Very lovely. Silence for a beat, and then you gulped and spoke up to end the silence.

“My favorite person in the whole wide world is an Eddie…” you mumbled softly.

“Yeah? Who’s this other Eddie?” He raised an eyebrow, dimples showing with the big cheeser he had on his face as he noticed you still weren’t letting go of his hand.

“Eddie V-… Eddie Van Halen…” you stammered.

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped.

“No way, are you shitting me right now?” he demanded.

You shook your head.

“No… I’ve seen him live… he’s… he’s really cool.”

Inhale through the nose, hold for five seconds, exhale through the mouth so he didn’t start having a heart attack.

“How the hell did you end up going to one of those concerts?” He managed

“… my dad. Last year... He took me for an early birthday present…”

So you’ve got good taste in music, and you have a dad that takes you to concerts like Van Halen as an early birthday present…

“They were pit side. I got one of the shirts at my house.”

God dammit… No. There’s no way. There’s no way in the hell that you’re real…

“Which concert was it?” He croaks tentatively.

“The 1984 Tour… I saw them and Autograph play… in Albuquerque.”

He had to stop you right there.

“Okay wait hold on, your dad seriously took you out of Indiana all the way into the middle of nowhere in New Mexico just to see Van Halen for your birthday?! Where in hell do you even live where that seems like a feasible option?! That’s a twelve hour drive at least!”

“I used to live in New Mexico.” You said softly. “I’m not from here…”

Yeah, yeah of course you weren’t from Hawkins. There was no way in shit someone as cool as you, someone who had been pit side to Van fucking Halen, could be from Indiana. It almost gave him flashbacks to shades of his ex, and he nearly wanted to pull away from the conversation. Yet you were so sweet, so different, and he knew if he let you just become a random anecdote in the annals of time, Eddie would have thrown up for weeks and then jumped into traffic if he saw you being poached by someone else.

He pressed on. Heart racing and trying to maintain so that he didn’t spook you.

“Could have fooled me, you don’t have the accent for it.” Eddie said, leaning up against one of the tan lockers.

You hesitated and bit your lower lip, nodding and rocking side to side on your feet as you began to pluck at the loose threads of your jacket.

“… people here don’t like to hear it. So I cover it up…” you said.

“Good idea. Because honestly, it’s not worth the trouble… You’re in Hicksville now. Hawkins isn’t the first narrow minded white bread town, and it’s not going to be the last. Especially if you don’t fit in with their good ol’ boys club mold. Hell, I don’t even fit in it. I’m the biggest target for these bigoted assholes with my reputation. I don’t doubt you’ll get the same amount of bullshit I do.”

“You…?” You blinked, confusion written on your face, “Why would anyone make fun of you?”

Harsh laughter erupted from his throat, and he was so consumed by the absurdity of your question that he didn’t notice you flinch back. As if he was being crucified, Eddie held out his arms dramatically wide, his battle vest opening up to show off his Led Zeppelin baseball tee with a couple of holes in the fabric where the rivets on his jeans had been rubbing against them.

“Take a good look at The Freak of Hawkins High sugarplum. I’m a long haired satan worshiping metalhead cult leader. I play shitty Pantera and Slayer covers in a dive bar every week. I deal drugs to the preppy kids that have more money than sense. I lure innocents in to play my little satanic Dungeons and Dragons games, and then I hotbox it in my van afterwards with them. I’m a Munson, furthest thing from a good little schoolboy. No, no, we Munsons drop out of high school and go to jail young, and probably die young too.”

He went on and on, the word vomit not stopping. If he was going to be honest with himself, he knew this potential thing you two had was dead on arrival from the moment you opened your mouth and started talking about Van Halen. You were way out of his league, even by metalhead standards. From what he gathered, you had deep pockets, or at least your dad did if he was able to take you to shit like Van Halen concerts, something Eddie could only dream of. Everything about this was scary. It was scary and horrifying and the only thing he could think of doing was self sabotaging before he got too attached to you.

And then you frowned, still looking at the floor, until you spoke up, looking him directly in his eyes.

“That doesn’t make no sense… Sounds like a bunch of horseshit to me.” You said simply.

He watched it all happen so suddenly and he couldn’t look away. His large brown eyes widening and his heart turning cartwheels in his chest when he saw the little twinkles of light, the little pinpricks of stars beginning to glimmer in your eyes as you held direct eye contact with him. It wasn’t just that you were cute, because Jesus H. Christ you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life. There were other things he’d never seen on anyone he’d dated: honest to god romance novel pining on your face, your soft lips parting slightly as if you wanted to speak but had lost the words. Your body moved in closer to him, and his own reciprocated purely on instinct, inviting you into his space.

Magnetism.

“None of it makes any sense does it?” He said, voice so low you had to lean further in to hear him, “But this is Hawkins. Judgemental jackanapes abound and people like you and me are lambasted for the crime of being different. Double for you I’m guessing, since you’re the new Hispanic kid in town.”

You nodded, looking hopefully at him.

“Let me guess, you had an easier time fitting in when you were in New Mexico, right?” He asked.

There was a brief hesitation as you gathered your thoughts.

“… Kind of. Maybe not towards the end, but there’s a lot of guys into heavy metal and leather and stuff. A lot of my tios- my uncles- are rockers. My brother likes it too.”

“Older or younger brother?” He asked.

“Older…”

“He get you into metal?” He grinned.

“Yeah.” You said, nodding, “He started me on Black Sabbath and Ozzy, my favorites other than Van Halen. My dad was the one who showed me Van Halen… oh, and Dio…”

“Rad… your dad and your brother got you set up with the best of the best. You have some of the most badass taste in music in all of Hawkins right now.” Eddie praised, and he’d wished he had complimented you sooner, because now that he saw you smile and giggle at his compliments he couldn’t get enough, “… and that’s a hell of a smile you’ve got there sweetheart. And a pretty laugh to match.”

“Quit it…” you giggled.

“Hell no, you can’t just tell me to quit it the second I give you a compliment. Gotta take the compliments where you get them.”

There was that smile, that goddamned cute giggle. The reaction he wanted. You covered up your mouth as you began to uncontrollably laugh, as if you’d taken a fat hit of reefer and had the permanent giggles. He loved people like you, who acted high and giggly without any external help. But he didn’t like how you were trying to hide those teeth from him. He wanted to see it. Wanted to see your smile and bask in the good feeling it gave him.

“Ah ah, none of that!” He scolded, holding up a finger, “You quit hiding that pretty face from me. What? You don’t want me to see it?”

“Nuh uh!” You giggled.

A devilish grin came over Eddie’s face.

“You gonna make me get forceful, sweetheart?”

“Noooooo…!” You whined, laughing harder as you shook your head quickly.

“Cut it out then. Put that damn hand down, lemme see that pretty face.”

Eddie began to wrestle your hand away from your face as you squealed in delight, shrinking in on yourself as he let out a mad giggle. He was enjoying this, enjoying the feeling of touching you and not having his face slapped or being punched in the stomach. You welcomed his touch, almost craved it, flying into a fit of hysterical laughter when he played dirty and grabbed your sides, tickling your soft plump abdomen so that you were forced to move your hands away from your face to shield your belly.

At the end of it, Eddie was breathless with laughter, holding your sides and swaying with you. Coming down from your fun, he saw your smile for the first time. No pearly whites. He could see the flaws and imperfect teeth as you smiled ear to ear.

Real recognizes real…

You are very much real. Very much so. You’re warm and soft and real underneath his fingertips.

“Princess,” he breaths.

You cock your head, swaying side to side and your grin never leaves your face.

“There we go.” He says softly, stroking your sides, “There’s that beautiful smile. See? Much better when you’re not hiding it behind your hands.”

Your eyes sparkled, starry eyes…

He’d only ever seen hungry eyes before. Only ever been desired like one desired a succulent steak or a rich slice of cake. Last year felt like he was giving up so many vital aspects of himself that he almost felt like an imposter when he kept trying to have a better year, a shot at a better life. Everyone had taken from him last year, gnawing at the bones of his corpse until there was nothing left.

Paige looked at me like she wanted to eat me…

But you…

You look at Eddie Munson as if you are awestruck by him, and as shocking as the feeling is, it makes him feel beautiful for a split second. He feels important. He feels valued, like he’s been the epitome of good alignment his whole life and the chaotic parts don’t matter. You look at him like you’re seeing a mythical hero. As if your village was burning to the ground all around you and he’d just come in the nick of time, clad in mithril armor, immune to the flames and devastation and ready to swoop you up to your feet.

But that defiance when you first faced him, the fire in you, it’s a strength, it’s a power he is drawn to. Realistically he knows if he were to swoop in it wouldn’t be to save you, it would be to help you pick up your own sword and fight alongside him.

He wanted that. He wanted someone to fight life’s battles alongside him.

He wanted that someone to be you.

[requincouche]

What's your favorite season of the year?

Spring !!

I love Spring... My body hates spring, due to all the pollen and dust in the air, but I love spring ^^. It is so pretty to see the nature come back to life after months of grey-brown inactivity. Winters aren't cold, where I live, though they're still cold enough where it gets kinda annoying and you wish for warmth.

Though, the good thing is that this year I finally got annoyed enough about hay-fever that I did several visits to my GP to ask for other medication, and be insistent that I get something which actually works even if it's expensive for me to buy. I used to get cetirizine and loratidine prescribed, whichever the doctor preferred... Although these are cheap, but neither of these did much for me xD. Maybe it'd take the edge off, I really can't tell cus hay-fever is such an all-or-nothing ailment for me. Either I'm using 100 tissues per day, or I'm using 1. So I got bilastine, which initially did nothing much either.. but doc said I can take up to 4 pills of it per day xD. So now I take 3 if it's really bad (primarily in late May, and early June) and 1 or 2 if it's milder (July, August, September).

Hm. sorry for this personal excursion... I don't like sharing really personal-personal details about myself, especially when it's medical stuff... Though I find my rampant allergies for the things that I love so much kinda funny ^^. xD my previous GP insisted on testing for which things I'm allergic. I told him that it's just grasses and trees and it doesn't really matter for the outcome (= me taking a pill to stop dying during the day). But he was concerned that I'd get allergic as well to other stuff like cats, dogs, house-dust, peanuts, shell-fish and that can be really dangerous if it develops further. Hm so I said sure go ahead, but please not one of those skin-allergy tests where they poke the skin on your back with a whole bunch of allergens. Those are so awful xD. Alternatively, the test could be done from a blood sample. Yes, please do that, take a tube of my blood and test whatever you like. But the results from it were so inconclusive xD. I think the way they test this is by using an ELISA-like test where the blood is deposited into an array of allergens onto a plate or paper or whatever. But cus those allergen-spots are next to each other, if one of them is very very strong; its signal will leak into the surrounding ones. So the results were that I was allergic to 'everything', including things like peanuts and cats which I know I'm not allergic to. But yeah the spots for grass and trees were so strong that their signal leaked into all the other spots. Kinda useless test, if you think about it. But I refuse to do that skin-prick allergy test again. Makes me feel like there's a whole tree under my skin 😂, the itch from it is so intense

[divineerdrick]

Homestuck: Beyond Canon Upd8 for August 25, 2024

I'm pretty sure this upd8'd yesterday, seeing as how I got a surprise spoiler in my YouTube feed. Looks like my prediction was off for this upd8. I'm wondering if I'll ever have a chance of getting one right. With that said though, I'm gonna do things differently. Before I get into the upd8, let's talk about Vriska's relationship with Doc Scratch.

So Scratch, by his own admission, used Vriska. He did so quite coldly, brutally, and all while constantly demeaning her (as all of Caliborn's iterations are want to do to women they encounter).

All of that said, we don't actually see much interaction between Doc Scratch and Vriska. Most of it occurred via backstory. Our first interaction between them, and our introduction to Scratch himself, occurs shortly after she's introduced. This is the last time he speaks to her, and is possibly his most harmless conversation in the story. If anything, despite repeatedly insulting her, Scratch's motivation here seems almost like a pep talk. Vriska is ignoring Kanaya prior to speaking with Scratch, and is lamenting her horrible luck. But Scratch not only puts Vriska in a better mood to receive Kanaya's attention, but opens up the possibility to her that she could potentially control her luck (something Kanaya echoes). This is of course by no means benevolent. Scratch needs Vriska to fulfill her role in the session. How much his interaction affects this is hard to say, but he's depicted as a villain that manipulates through carefully timed and placed nudges. It's the reasons he's my favorite villain in Homestuck proper, and the greatest rebuke to any claim of Homestuck having shit writing.

The second conversation is much more meaningful. This one takes place via flashback as part of the cycle of revenge. Here, Scratch provokes Vriska into killing Aradia. This is probably going to be the plot point that is important for this upd8. As I said above, Scratch is depicted as a mastermind of subtle manipulation. This leaves a very real question for this conversation. If the reason Scratch is acting is to ensure that Caliborn's entry is as smooth as possible, does this mean there's a chance that Vriska wouldn't have killed Aradia without his interference? She certainly wouldn't have had such a clean shot at Tavros without his help. But even with the dominoes falling, is there a chance that Vriska might have done something different? Is there a chance, that as Aradia hoped, she might lament everything she'd done when faced by those she killed? How would things have changed? And, most importantly . . .

Does Vriska think there's a chance things might have gone differently?

The problem here is the same as before. Even if she could have done things differently, she didn't. Faced with a blatant, arrogant, and upfront manipulation, she still did what Scratch wanted her to do. She knew he wanted her to do it, and still did it. While the reason he contacted her might have been to erase any chance of her making a different decision, she still ultimately made the decision. She was young, emotionally vulnerable, distracted from potentially better outcomes, and in a culture where she'd probably be considered justified.

But she still killed Aradia.

She even had to go to great lengths to do it, and ended up doing so in an extremely cruel way. Then she did her best to put it out of her mind, often successfully, as we see with her confession to John.

Vriska needs to come to terms with this and forgive herself. Tavros and Aradia already have. She needs to accept that Scratch abused and manipulated her, just as Spidermom did, and forgive herself for the things she did because of it. Just as before, she owes him nothing. Their relationship was entirely one-sided, with her getting nothing of benefit and him getting everything he needed. The idea she ever "wronged" him by using the cue ball is ridiculous. The idea she owes any of her development as a hero to him is equally preposterous.

I feel she needs to find a way to walk away again.

Phew! That was a lot! With all that out of the way, let's actually get to this upd8!

We seem to be picking up just after our last session. No time reference of anything like that.

Oh wow! This is turning to quite the spite role-call! At least poor Gcatavrosprite doesn't seem to be sneezing as much. Gotta say, he looks quite silly though.

And here is our grumpiest of trolls, looking absolutely, fabulously, awesome! I hope as much as Erisolsprite laments their existence, they can at least take comfort in how amazing they look.

Vriska's still gonna rag on them, but we all know she's completely wrong there.

Oh! Much like how Karkat and Sollux could riff off each other, this dynamic seems to be working! Wonder if this has anything to do with Vriska's previous relationship with Eridan possibly synergizing with Sollux's penchant for demeaning himself.

Looks like Vriska has been trying to power through this, possibly only relaxing when she physically can't keep going. That definitely tracks. Hopefully she's learning to examine her habits and determine if they're actually good for her. There doesn't seem to be a pressing time limit, so she probably can just take a break and recoup.

Woops. There's the sneezing.

It seems like everyone's response to Tavros somehow having allergies while being both dead and a sprite was to just keep yelling, "Sprites don't get allergies!" until he started sneezing less. Also "VAST WILLPOWER" has echoes of Tavros boasting about his leg powered self-esteem.

And yeah, Vriska's not ready to cut herself some slack. She'll use any excuse to keep going and try to keep powering on.

Uh oh . . . Ominous Sprite is ominous. Looks like Scratch might be the next boss encounter, possibly as a followup to Momfang. Hope Vriska's build can stack bleed and rot.

Snrk. More human expressions not landing.

Uh oh . . . I sense a humbling on it's way . . .

Here we go . . .

Look at this smooth bastard. In a universe defined by the destruction of the Green Sun, he can't possibly have any real power here can he?

Also this piano refrain is genuinely creepy and haunting.

God he still offers candy!

His attempts at platitudes would almost feel genuine . . . if we didn't know they weren't made with full knowledge of the outcome and serve only to create an air of superiority.

Vriska's recovered well though. Hopefully everything will have paid off enough that she can stay on her game. I'm worried about our Sprite pair's appraisal of her readiness though.

Huh. Interesting goad here.

Oh . . . No point in posting it here as a still image, but Vriska is literally shaking. Her bravado seems to be falling apart, and I'm not sure why yet.

Shit just got next level. Regardless if this is the Plot Point doing it, or if Scratch is somehow here, he can still exert some genuinely threatening power.

And of course he wants to play a game . . .

And he just altered ours. Well shit. That certainly seems like some genuine power.

Ew.

FUCKING EW!!!

There's a reason I gave respect to the trigger warnings in the Epilogues!

With Momfang, I talked about how sometime a human victim of abuse can confront their abuser and find closure. The keyword there is "sometimes."

There is nothing Vriska can gain from a confrontation with Scratch, it just provides more opportunity for him to abuse her. He will never be sorry. Even if she had the power, she can't even make him sorry. He's dead and gone. His master is dead and gone. The only vengeance she can take has been taken. All that left is the revenge of the victor. She gets to live on, possibly even longer than he did, while he is a tattered puppet.

The question now is, how does she escape his power and abuse in this session?

She seems to logically know that she's won, that he shouldn't be able to hurt her. But there's a different between recognizing the nightmare and being able to wake up.

There's the shoe! This isn't even about Scratch. This is about backsliding, or rather the fear of it. This about working so hard only to have it all come tumbling down because you made a mistake in a moment of carelessness or weakness. I'm guessing this is also about the fear this redemption is fake, no more real than Gamzee's cult. That no matter how hard she tries, how much she does, even with seemingly all of eternity ahead of her, she will always be just a scared little kid that does awful things. That's a hard fear to overcome.

There's that notion about controlling her fortune. Man, Terezi could be a lot of help here. This version of Vriska might even be able to truly listen to her.

And here it is! I think this is another false dichotomy. As I said above, Scratch did manipulate and abuse her. But Vriska still did all those horrible things. Both things are true. Taking ownership of her deeds doesn't change what Scratch did. But she has to accept them as hers before she can move past them.

Acknowledging Vriska's ability is simply a fact. Her abilities are also part of the problem. She has done and could continue to do some real good if she mastered them. She could also wreak incredible havoc. And that's part of what she's afraid of.

Oh! That's a good question. Maybe that's something else Vriska has to figure out.

Vriska Serket completes her redemption arc! Then what? How does this change life for the people of the Candy Timeline? Does she just overthrow Jane and then try to help rebuild? Even after all of this, would she be capable of helping everyone make a better society? Does she push to have this side of the Universe escape the event horizon and return to the greater whole? Dirk is becoming every bit the manipulator Scratch was.

'Cause, you know, a part of him always was.

He's already taken victory from her once. Even after this, would she be able to face a fully ascended Dirk?

More and more I'm beginning to think that this really is just a humbling. While Vriska can't allow herself to give into all these fears I've mentioned, she also can't ignore them. She needs to acknowledge them and start preparing for them.

The sad truth is, Vriska Serket will fuck up again. Maybe not in the course of this narrative, but backslides are a part of life. And she could live for a very long time. She has to be ready for it.

Ouch. Yeah, I was afraid of this. No poignant epiphany. No triumphant last words. Just cold, harsh reality.

Next time bring a broom.

May not look like it, but there are eight A's in "AAAAAAMYGDALA."

Also, Scratch ended this session by moving her to ∞108. I'm not sure if 108 has any special meaning here. There's a Homestuck track from Toby Fox called 108 Stars of Destiny, which is a reference to Suikoden and Chinese literature. It's possible it marks the end of this arc. If we get two more chapters in September, 10/8 could be the next post after we finish this.

Have to wait and see. I'm still predicting Terezi for next chapter, and (Vriska) for the final chapter.

[capitalisticveins]

EA Thoughts

Okay well to start off, Erik’s a cunt for that😭

I was finally starting to see Vega AS Vega and not some sadism demon that beats up little kids and makes people kidnap others, like DUDE THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS

WHERE THE F U C K DID HUSH COME FROM? WHY IS HE HERE???

VEGA HAS BEEN HERE SINCE 2020, HES THE 17th-18th CHARACTER INTRODUCED ON THE ROSTER AND WAS HERE SINCE THE FIRST HALLOWEEK

FUCKING HUSH JUMPS IN LAST AUGUST PUMPS OUT 3 AUDIOS AND THINKS HE CAN JUST MURK A CHARACTER AS COMPLEX AS VEGA??? AND GETS AWAY WITH IT??? NUH UH IF I CANT HAVE IMP VEGA LET ME LIVE WITH THIS OOONNNNEEEE

The way Warden ran away what’re they gonna do now😢 They know abt all the shit going on and that they have to stop the Sovereigns from escaping but they cant do it without him :(

Istg this audio was just to powerscale Hush. Vega is literally one of the most powerful characters when fully fed. He’s as old as Brachium, as morally gray as James, and stronger than William, but gets got by Hush??? This can’t be real😞

I didn’t even think I liked Vega that much until I had to get up walk around and take a break😭

Doc needs to reel him in he’s doing too much now

I mean, at least we get good news. We have somewhere to plop Doc, Hush, Warden, and Vega on the timeline, which is in January 2022, and we know the raid on Closeknit was successful since Scorpius wasn’t detected in the building. I just wonder if they found Sunshine yet😥

SORE LOW VEGA 🕊️🕊️🕊️

his ass aint seeing heaven

[traineecryptid]

NPSS Weibo Q&A (20240831) Part 8

This is a Q&A session held on Weibo. People will tag their questions with the hashtag #南派三叔藏海花在线答疑# (#NPSS Zang Hai Hua Online Q&A#) and NPSS will look through the tag to pick some to answer. The event started at 1500 hours on 2024 August 31st.

Folder with screenshots and big compilation google doc is here. Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here.

20240902

1233

Why do people say that Tianshou is angsty? #Web Drama Zang Hai Hua# #NPSS explains Tianshou# [Video] 

1508

Q: I want to know if there are two forces of Tianshou, both good and bad sides respectively: Gate guarding Tianshou (good) and Lu God's Tianshou (bad). 

A: You're a little smart.

1509

Q: Shu, if little Zhang Qiling was in a tomb one second and transmigrated into his Yucun self the next second with his feet in the same foot bath as Wu Xie’s, what would his first sentence be?

A: A demon!

1510

Q: I will watch Zang Hai Hua for you… Don’t stop answering, okay…

A: I’m still persevering.

1511

Q: A-Bing, did you know that Zang Hai Hua will stop updating for 3 days? Do you still want your Heat Index or not! (T/N: Heat Index is the ranking/ trending-ness of a drama.)

A: I’m not the boss. It’s not my decision to make!

1537

Q: Hello, Xu-laoshi. Since you said that you won’t be writing “Yucun Biji” anymore (If there’s going to be 9 more Yucun Biji published, then you don’t have to read this post because Yucun Biji is my favorite out of the entire series), can I beg you for an Altay Biji? I wish to see the Iron Triangle’s nomadic life: Menyouping riding a motorcycle to Ürümqi to buy stuff (could also go from a summer ranch to some village). Wu Xie would be in charge of raising cats and dogs and chickens and goats and cows. Pangzi would be in charge of steaming lamb and barbecuing lamb chop. When they don’t want to herd the animals anymore, they can plant sunflowers. Wu Xie can use his architectural talents and build underground houses and learn a few Kazakh words…  

A: I’ve been to Altay. The life there is like the original series and not Yucun.

1540

Q: Laoshi, Sir, Genius Writer, do you know how amazing the Flowery Night you wrote is? How did you do it? Are you Team Experience or Team Imagination? Has a beautiful god descended in the middle of the night and kissed the keyboard you wrote Flowery Night on?

A: Those who understand Flowery Night are experts.

1553 Q: I just took a nap and Shu got online. With the drama updates on hold for three days, will you chat with us for three days?

A: On and off, I guess. I’m deathly busy. I want to cry.

1554

Q: Sanshu, Sanshu, what is the one thing that Xie Yuchen and Hei Xiazi did that angered the other the most? Please tell me.

A: That would be enough for ten books.

1858

Q: Would there be one day where the Iron Triangle gets poisoned after eating some unknown mushrooms?

A: It would if Xiaoge isn’t around.

1858

Q: Shu, would there be updates for Queen’s Banquet? Approximately when would the updates start? Wu Xie is about to go moldy being stuck in that hole.

A: Soon. I need to pick a good desk.

1900

Q: Sanshu, Sanshu, does Wu Xie have any children appropriate de-stressing methods? The kind that can be broadcasted.

A: Standing in the rain?

20240903

0509

Q: The cat didn’t survive but if the cat did survive, would Xiaohua keep it? Or would he give it to Xiazi to raise?

A: Xiaohua wouldn’t interfere with the cat’s karma.

0510

Q: Shu, I really went to Louwailou to eat their West Lake Vinegar Fish during 817. The taste was unforgettable… The restaurant was full of Daomis. Do you have anything you would like to say to the Daomis who have been violently beaten up by the Vinegar Fish?

A: I’ve heard that every fish that was made into a Vinegar Fish has died in vain?

1259

Q: No updates for three days, you could say that this is a version of Three Days in Silence.

A: You sure know how to meme…

and here's part two if today's double update! we've caught up to 3rd September now! hooray! and this is 120 posts (less than 120 questions)... theres... an amount to go... but! whittling! making progress! yay!