#for calling out the fact she was making up bullshit reason to be mad at me

[famouslysleepy]

for a horrible terrifying moment i thought i forgot my purse somewhere at Not In The House after my asshole sister kicked me out her car and drop off near a gas station yesterday

i was about to fucking lose it swear to god

but thank fuckjng christ it was just in my car (my mom drove my car to pick me up)

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

[leilanihours]

# LIKE CLOCKWORK

pairing: paige bueckers x teammate!reader

word count: 1532

warnings: arguing, offensive cursing?

summary: in a heated game, your girlfriend doesn't hesitate to step up and defend you.

⭑ from lani: i rlly hate this and its like corny imo but idk..oh also i have nothing against usc or any of their players i just needed someone to cause drama sorry guys!

masterlist !

THE WHOLE GAME was a mess, in all honesty. the aggression. the determination. the ref’s bullshit calls. there were too many factors that contributed to the general tensity of the game.

in the midst of the march madness tournament, uconn ended up going against usc, a school that was set up to have a “rivalry” with the huskies due to the similarity between their star freshman, juju watkins, and your own all-american girlfriend, paige bueckers.

however, the crowd was focused on a different pair tonight: you and kayla williams. you had heard of the girl prior to the game and acknowledged that she was a good player on both ends of the court, so you prepared yourself for her efforts.

before tonight, you had absolutely nothing against her. you respected her and her dedication to the sport, even complimenting her once in an interview. but for some reason, the trojan had been all up in your personal space the entire game. some may call it good defense but she was simply doing way too much in your eyes.

there had been multiple accounts where she illegally restricted your movement as you went to make a shot, yet the refs let it be. the entire ordeal pissed you and your own teammates off, but specifically your girlfriend.

you could tell paige was getting annoyed at the way kayla was acting, even when the ball wasn’t in play. her eyes were trained on the opponent every now and then to make sure that she wouldn’t try anything. but she practically death stared her.

it’s not that you couldn’t handle yourself, because everyone knew damn well that you could, it was the fact that the intensity of kayla’s physical pressure over you was honestly concerning. still, you continued to focus on the game.

it was currently two minutes left in the fourth quarter and uconn held the lead 82-76. with a six-point deficit and a freshman sharp shooter for usc, the score was too close for your team's comfort.

your coach had advised the team to stay off of social media to avoid letting their opinions get to your heads, but you still knew what was happening. people were calling you out for being too emotional on court after an incident with a player on duke in the previous round.

———

it was almost the end of the third quarter and uconn was up by…a lot. the duke players were not happy at all.

you were running across the floor, crossing between the two duke players guarding you. for some reason they were set on the fact that you were their biggest threat, so as they double-teamed you, you had to push harder against their defense.

your teammate kk arnold passes you the ball over the pile of bodies trying to guard you as you catch it with your hands extended in the air. quickly, you adjust your stance as you shield the ball away from duke’s grasps.

you dribble the ball forward before stepping back out behind the three-point line and faking a pass to paige to get the guards off of you. with the small time frame and physical space you had, you quickly jump and shoot the ball into the net, resulting in a beautiful swish as another three points are added to the board.

you also draw a foul since one of the duke girls grabbed at your leg mid-jump shot. you throw up three fingers in the air and smile as your teammates pat your back and dap you up. 

before you were set to get one free throw, you huddled up with the rest of the girls to discuss your next plays. you were focused on what paige was explaining, but you couldn’t help overhearing the loud discussion in the huddle next to you.

“god, she’s not even that good. the only reason she’s here is because her dad is on the coaching staff.”

“exactly, she’s just a bitch with connections, all her shots are sloppy.”

you lift your head from your own huddle to make sure you’re hearing them correctly. “hey, what was that? what’d you say?” you ask them.

“nothin’ bitch, just mind your business,” one of the girls says with a pointed glare.

“sorry?” you’re now fully turned around to face her, but you try to maintain your composure so as to not get a tech.

“woah hey chill,” paige says as she swiftly places her hands on your waist to pull you away from the scene, “you gotta ignore them, y/n, we can’t have you getting a tech. don’t let them get to you.”

her eyes are locked on yours as her large hands are still grasping your jersey loosely. you nod wordlessly with your jaw clenched.

“like clockwork?” she asks you, fist extended. 

you smirk at her proposal and bump your hand against hers, “like clockwork.”

it was a phrase you two often used on the court, just the two of you. whenever either of you said it, it was an unspoken promise to have each other’s backs and power through the game no matter what.

it was a signal to show your opponents your unbeatable connection that left everyone speechless and scrambling for their words. so, like clockwork, you two were beasts on the court after initiating the promise.

you were angry to say the least. you were tired of the treatment not only from other players, but also from the media. everyone had instructed you to block it all out and take your emotions out on the ball and net. so that’s what you did. 

——— 

and that’s what you continued to do. you drove your shots, defended well, and refused to back down. you were pumped up by the adrenaline running through your veins, but after you managed to drain another three-pointer, one split-second interaction sent a different emotion to course through you.

“try-hard bitch,” you hear as you are shoved forward. turning around, you are faced with, of course, kayla williams.

before you could respond, you see paige stepping in front of you protectively and getting up in her face. you see her place a strong forearm against kayla’s chest to push her off of you.

“yo, you need to back the fuck off,” she demands as she lessens the space between her and the trojan to intimidate her. paige had about five inches of height on the girl, so she was glaring down at her with looks that could kill.

she was tired of all the bullshit you were getting, tired of them pushing you around. so, naturally, she had to do something about it.

but unfortunately, the refs caught the heated interaction, immediately blowing their whistles to give both paige and kayla technical fouls for unsportsman-like conduct.

paige freezes the second she hears the refs’ call before walking away from you and kayla frustratedly. you stalk after her, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed at her sudden outburst.

“paige, what the hell was that? what happened to not letting them get to us?” you ask as she plops down into a chair on the sidelines, head in her hands. she shakes her head, not responding to you, “paige??”

“i’m sick of their shit, y/n,” she says after taking a deep breath and lifting her head to look at you, “they’ve been acting like this the whole game. i tried to hold back but this one is on them.”

“i know they’ve been acting up, but that doesn’t mean you step in and get a technical!” you practically yell at her. everyone’s emotions were complicated at the moment, and you were letting yours get the better of you, “you can’t do that paige!”

“but i’d do it again!” she yells back, standing up to be face-to-face with you, “for you, i’d do it again because guess what? you don’t deserve this shit. i’m perfectly fine with getting a tech because they were speaking on your name. i wasn’t gonna let that slide.”

there was less than a foot of distance between you two. both of your chests were heaving as you got into a bit of a screaming match. the refs were still replaying and discussing the recent altercation, trying to determine the intensity and consequences warranted.

“fuck, paige,” you sigh as you run a hand over your face, “you can’t put your career on the line like that for me. i won’t be the reason your future is ruined.”

“what are you not understanding, y/n? i don’t care about all that right now. all i care about is you. are you telling me that you wouldn’t do the same for me?”

your expression is straight as you remain silent, knowing damn well that you would go to hell and back for this girl.

"that’s what i thought. so please don’t give me anymore shit for this and go win this game.”

after a few seconds of intense eye contact and you processing her words, you mirror her priceless smirk.

“you’re impossible,” you breathe out and shake your head before making your way back to the court, but not before paige lands a quick slap to your ass.

“like clockwork, ma, like clockwork!” she yells at you with a smile.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[quill-is-brainstorming]

I've just re-read the short lived duel that Aeneas and Achilles have in Book 20 of the Iliad and it's actually the most hilarious fucking thing.

So it starts out with Apollo disguising himself as Lycaon, one of Priam's many sons, and telling to have a go at Achilles. Keep in mind that this is post-Patroclus Achilles. Aka: berserk Achilles. Aka: so fucking mad he would fight a literal river Achilles.

Aeneas, who is capable of critical thinking, says he doubts he can actually take him on. He also references a time when he was herding cattle on Mount Ida and Achilles ambushed him, adding that the only reason he survived then was because Zeus gave him enough strength to book it (cracking up the official times that he's been saved by a god from certain death to 3, you go dude!).

However, after a bit of back and forth and a ton of hyping up on Apollo's part, Aeneas decides to try anyway.

Like, what could possibly go wrong?

Achilles notices Aeneas charging at him and he begins to taunt him. It's something among the lines of: "I'm sorry, are you, background trojan character #61, actually gonna try and beat me? And then what? Do you think that Priam will reward you in some way? Maybe making you king after him? Well it's BULLSHIT, because Priam fucked so much that your chances of succeeding him are basically 0. Ahah. Loser."

Now, you'd think that maybe Aeneas got enraged at the comment and attacked him, or maybe he even got scared and backed down, but NOPE. What does Aeneas do?

Well, first of all, he insults Achilles' insults, comparing his bickering to that of a child. Literally, "I heard third graders do better than that." And then he decides to list his and Hector's entire fucking family tree.

You know that part of the Bible that's like "this guy sired this other guy, and this other guy sired yet another guy" and so on? It's basically that.

So after he's done with all that, Aeneas states that while he'd love to have a battle of insults with Achilles, because according to him he's actually very good at insulting people (his words, not mine), they should probably throw hands now. Achilles agrees.

The duel is shortlived and Aeneas gets his ass handed to him. Badly. As expected. And he's about die when ✨️POV shift✨️ we're not on Olympus where Poseidon, Hera and Athena are watching this absolute train wreck go down.

Poseidon, pitying Aeneas, suddenly goes on a rant. It's something among the lines of: "come on guys, look at him, he's just a little guy! He literally has no stakes in this war, he doesn't deserve to die here! He even gives us lots of gifts and sacrifices, he's literally such a nice guy. How can we do this to him!?

...oh and also he's part of some prophecy, Zeus would get mad if he died."

The fact that the way it's worded makes it sound like Aeneas being part of a literal prophecy is an afterthought to him absolutely floors me, Poseidon is literally just attached to a random dude that's fighting on the opposite side to his because he thinks he's nice.

After all that Hera is pretty unimpressed and states that she really doesn't care if our man lives or dies as neither her or Athena have ever saved a Trojan from death, she however adds that Poseidon is free to do whatever he wants.

The literal moment Hera stops talking, Poseidon lunges down from Olympus and onto the battlefield to look for the two combatants. When he does, he saves Aeneas like only he can do.

You know how when Diomedes first tries to kill Aeneas, Aphrodite gently folds her hands around him to shield him? There's none of that here. Poseidon just runs up to him and literally flings the motherfucker.

It literally says that he flies "high in the air". It's like a Looney Toons sketch.

So Aeneas lands and, while he's obviously a bit dazed, Poseidon proceeds to call him a madman and essentially tells him to never do something stupid like that again and just wait until Achilles is dead, then he'll be able to murder Achaeans to his heart's content. Aeneas is fine with that.

Achilles, who just saw his opponent just get yeeted into the fucking sky, just shrugs and goes "welp, guess that guy's off limits, I'm gonna go kill someone else now I guess lol".

This entire scene is pure fucking gold and the fact that I've literally never seen anyone talk about it just breaks my heart.

[retrieve-the-kraken]

Okay, so I’ve finished my taxes, and I’m basically out of the woods with some overwhelming work stuff, and everything turned out well with a medical situation with my mum, but I am still very tired, but I also cannot keep going without putting my preliminary thoughts on my very first viewing of season 3 down on a post…

It seems my worst characterization so far is assuming that these two idiots would learn to communicate. They haven’t, they’re stupid teenagers, they’re really bad at it, they get mad at each other for everything, and they don’t listen. And that needs to change soon if we want Wilmon endgame.

Boris, do you do couples therapy? PLEASE HELP THEM.

I think a big reason Wilhelm lashes out, besides getting caught up in his own head, is the fact that he’s also constantly afraid of saying the wrong thing and pissing Simon off. But the stakes for Simon are clearly higher. Wilhelm really needs to learn to communicate, but he’s dragging a whole life of terrible communication and zero support, so HOW is he supposed to learn, if he naturally feels afraid to open up?

It shows in the way he reacts to learning about Erik. Simon might be right, and Erik maybe just gave in to peer pressure, like everyone else in that school (which we see over and over again, like with the strike, and that guy who just repeats ‘yeah hilarious’ when Vincent tells him, and the graduation rituals and basically everything that everyone does at that fucking school), and maybe he wasn’t particularly homophobic. Or maybe he was, but if he had found out about Wilhelm maybe he would have changed his views (after all he was a stupid kid too)… But how would Wilhelm know? Erik is dead, there’s no way of asking him, confronting him about it. And people still call him perfect, and still compare him to his brother.

It must be so traumatizing to have held this person in your head as the one you trusted for everything, the one who would support you most, the one who probably knew you better than anyone else, who would love you and be there for you no matter what, and it turns out that he might not have accepted you at all. And just like that Wille is all alone and angry and afraid again.

(This is why it’s extra cruel that August posted that fucking video, especially how premeditated it was to share it over the whole world, but also then tell Wilhelm that his brother was possibly a homophobe. It doesn’t matter that he went through that horrible hazing, it doesn’t matter that he put a stop to it, and it doesn’t matter that he’s a stupid kid too, the fact that he did THAT to someone, anyone, is awful and he should have known better.)

So that scene in season 1 when Erik teases Wilhelm about his crush potentially changes completely. Maybe he didn’t suspect anything, maybe it was just a coincidence that he never used any pronouns…

And that makes it even more traumatizing that his parents still think of Erik as the figure of perfection, and Wilhelm, who is queer and scandalous and rebellious, is the real thorn on their side. Fucking Ludvig saying that Erik really was perfect, that he didn’t have “that darkness inside of him”, to his surviving son… But for all we know maybe Erik’s death was not accidental, maybe he did have “a darkness” inside of him.

On the other hand, that “darkness” doesn’t excuse Kristina at all. I am convinced that this depression/burnout that she’s going through is absolute bullshit. Sure, she might be depressed, she’s still grieving her “perfect” heir, and she’s going through a lot. But it’s like Wilhelm says, how convenient that she shuts down and breaks down now. She wasn’t like this when the video happened, because she could still cover it up. And she wasn’t like this when Wilhelm called her to scream that he was going to abdicate, because she could still drag him out of Hillerska. It was only when he told the whole world, and there was no covering it up anymore, that she suddenly became fragile with grief.

And even if it were true, even if she’s going through a severe depression or burnout, as a result of everything that’s happened, that doesn’t excuse her previous lies and manipulations. And it makes the fact that she still really wants Wille to become her successor, despite knowing what it could do to him, despite knowing that he’s already extremely anxious and that he does not know how to manage his own emotions, is evil.

(And even if she wants August to be the backup too, knowing how he is, knowing his own family history, and how it could affect him too, is evil too.) MORE on this later.

Kristina uses her breakdowns to emotionally manipulate Wille into trying to do his best to be the perfect crown prince, now indirectly through Farima and Ludvig. And Wille’s so concerned with her and her fragility that it affects his relationship with Simon. Because he’s anxious about the possible imminence of having to take over, of being the new monarch, when he can barely control his own feelings, when he just wants to enjoy his first relationship and just be in love.

Of course he made things worse for himself and Simon when he publicly revealed their relationship, but we can understand where that’s coming from. He didn’t want to hide anymore, he didn’t want to not be able to be himself anymore, not be able to be with the boy he loves. But they’re still forced to hide, because people start hating on Simon, because people won’t stop talking about them (as much as I HATED Wille shushing Simon, I also understood that he didn’t want anyone to hear their argument, because he didn’t want to give people more reason to talk about them, but also there’s probably a lot of ‘keeping up appearances’ embedded in his mind), because they are very different and almost incompatible for many reasons, and because being the crown prince means conforming to a lot of things (no tattoos, no cutting your hair shorter than, no nail polish, no expressing political opinions, etc etc), and so he has to remove the nail polish and he doesn’t want his foundation to be geared toward LGBTQIA+ people or mental health issues… He can’t express himself, he can’t be himself, because what he is or who he is for real is not compatible with his role or what is expected of him… he’s so repressed still.

(The whole nail polish scene, and the scene where Simon suggests that Wille’s foundation could be geared toward LGBTQIA+ youth, reminded me a little of Isak in SKAM saying that he wasn’t just going to start marching in the Pride parade or wearing makeup. Wille is not necessarily about identity expression, or at least he doesn’t think that he should be. He just wants to be himself, and be with the boy he loves, and that’s it).

As for Simon, he can do no wrong, and I absolutely agree with everything he says and does, but he has always been very idealistic, and he does come across as a little more naïve than I expected, especially with the whole social media comments and his song. It wasn’t the first time he experienced it, because things went south for him when he appeared on the video, so for him now to think that people are magically not going to be cruel.

But I understand how much he’s sacrificing for Wille, and Wille not appreciating it at all must sting. Just like he points out that he didn’t have contact with Micke for years, for Sara’s sake, and suddenly she’s living with him… that fucking hurt. Simon has always been very opinionated and outspoken, and he’s very authentically and proudly himself, but he’s also always molded himself to what other people need, like being a parented child and taking on too much in the house to relieve Linda, and taking care of Sara, and worrying about his father, and letting himself be manipulated by Marcus, and now basically giving up a lot of himself to be with Wille. And as a result Linda treats him like he’s a drug addict, and Sara goes to the father she didn’t want to have contact with, and Marcus talks shit about him to the press, and Wille doesn’t listen to him…

Sara saw the light (sort of), so maybe hopefully Wille will too. More on that later too.

Anyway, it would have been nice for someone from the royal court to sit Simon down and explain to him what being the boyfriend of a royal involves, so that Wille doesn’t have to figure out how to tell him all these difficult things himself. Wille is so used to some of these things, they seem so obvious to him, that he might not immediately think of how weird or outlandish it might seem to Simon. (THat scene with the cake, I mean… it was funny in a way, but I wonder how many terrifying thoughts crossed Simon’s mind, the obvious “wait what??? did I just eat poison???” but also “wait what??? someone’s trying to poison my boyfriend????” and “there are kids here, have they also accidentally been poisoned????”).

I really really hope that, since he’s being forced to go to Boris with August, that Wille will think about going with Simon, and trying to work things out. They need to be able to say all these things to each other, get on the same page.

More importantly, I need a callback to what Boris said to him in season 2, about the expectations of his family, about being able to make his own choices. Which Wille internalized beautifully with that speech to Simon outside his house.

Anyway, this is already very long. Moving on to more general thoughts:

- I did think that the fact that they sort of resolved the whole issue with the police report and the drugs felt a little anticlimactic. It was built up and built up and the whole season 2 finale was about that, and we had a cliffhanger and everything, and then… bye. I wonder if it will come back (more on that later).

- And for that matter, Alexander just became a background character. Did he even have any lines? I could barely spot him.

- August telling Wilhelm in front of everyone at the table that he’s sure Wille will fuck up on his own… rich.

- Also Stella and Rosh was sort of hinted at, it happened in a blink, and then Fredrika was… jealous? Confused? Homophobic? All of the above? But then… NOTHING. Stella was even missing in the last episode, because she was “sick”… (scheduling conflicts for Felicia? Actually sick?)

- I think it’s interesting that Sara preached and preached to Simon about giving people a second chance, including their dad, and then she… goes and does it? It wasn’t the first time she did, she was with August despite the awful thing he did. And then she goes and… gives August ANOTHER chance????

- Someone needs to tell Sara that she needs to stop getting wtih August, because every time they get together somehow, Wilmon go south… It seems these two couples cannot exist simultaneously…

- So I still have to rewatch, but… is August then in the middle of selling his father’s estate to pay Simon? Are any of his friends aware of this?

- I have a cultural question: what was the whole deal about travelling to the US? I mean, I thought they were asking if these kids have never travelled abroad, but they mentioned the US specifically, several times… Is that a thing in Sweden, traveling to the US? Not any other part of Europe? Not Asia? Just wondering. Made me curious.

- Still waiting for this season’s Elias song… just one episode left… If we don’t get one, or a callback to Revolution, I might claw my face off…

- Nils repeating that maybe Wille would have been better off with someone from the inner circle. Seriously, Nils, who do you mean? WHO? Who could you be referring to? Hmm?

- Something else about Nils… a part of me really wished that Wille would have asked Nils for confirmation on the Erik thing. Wille obviously doesn’t want to believe it at first, but then he does, and hearing it from August makes it even worse, so maybe hearing it from someone like Nils would be the final confirmation that he would need, that his brother was the worst. On the other hand, for him to ask Nils to confirm something like that, as a gay, and possibly hearing what happened to him as a result of it… that would have probably made it even worse.

- Really hate that Marcus was mentioned, that he came back to haunt Simon in a way, even if it was minimal. But props to Simon for not rising to the bait in that moment.

- Simon, my love, i understand that you’re upset and heartbroken, but… it would have been nice if you tried to get Wille to talk to you one last time, before breaking up with him on his birthday… especially seeing everything he’s going through. Not that your feelings are any less important than his, of course, but… are you trying to get him to jump out the window????

-Eternally saddened by the disappearance of the orange sweater. Eternally saddened by the fact that Wilhelm did not set foot in or around Simon’s house this season. Although who knows, still one episode left…

Things that I liked most:

- Seriously the chemistry between Edvin and Omar is OFF THE CHARTS. The intimacy coordinator this season was very good.

- Especially that sex scene. Not just because it makes me immensely happy when my favorite ship fucks, because holy shit that was hot, but also because there’s a whole theme around all the hate mail and messages and classism and homophobia and toxic masculinity that Simon is a target of, especially being Latino, whilst Wille, being white and privileged and high class and the heir to the throne, is probably seen as the “man” of the relationship (especially since in the video he’s also the one “in control” whilst Simon is the receiver), so it’s very VERY satisfying to see that they are both top and bottom at times, and they both equally enjoy it.

- Also the use of choir music during the sex scene, giving it a very holy feel, much like Elias’s Holy playing when they have sex again in season 2… seriously I NEED my Elias song this season or I WILL START A REVOLUTION.

- At first I was annoyed at the whole “school possibly closing” plotline, because I thought it was unneeded. Or that maybe it would play a bigger role in the whole video-drugs controversy. But the truth is that it was really good, how it highlighted these kids’ privilege and the absurdity of wanting to cover things up and uphold traditions, and it also worked wonderfully to highlight the divide between Simon and Wille. As Simon says to Wille, he only takes a stand when he has nothing to lose.

- Felice. Felice this whole season was magnificent. Her whole breakdown over the end of her friendship with Sara, showing how truly important it was to her. And Madison saying that sometimes breaking up with a friend is worse than getting dumped, and I AGREE SO MUCH. But then I also think she loses her sense of self, because despite being popular and beautiful, she still gets used and treated badly, by August (obviously), but also by Wille (the kiss), and worst of all by Sara (who in a way used her for her horse, but also for the clout). And in the meantime, she’s treated differently than the other students for being one of the few black girls, and she gets singled out for her hair… and yet, the school is using her to make themselves look good. And now she decides to give Sara a second chance, because she really missed her, because it really hurt to lose that friend, and Sara goes and… does that…

- One of my favorite things about Simon is how he is proof that just because you’re gay doesn’t mean that you have flawless fashion sense. And i can’t help but wonder how fashion and style icon/ELLE’s Best Dressed Man/OMR Beauty founder Omar feels about Simon’s fashion choices. Never change, Simon, never change.

- Vincent was every bit of the tremendous asshole that I hoped he’d be this season. Did not disappoint. I wanted to punch him in the face every time he opened his mouth. Marvellous.

- I’m happy that we got more Madison, but still not enough. Still, iconic. Forever one of my favorite characters.

- I don’t know what to say about Sara and Micke. Just maybe that, when he played that song in the car, even before they started singing, i just knew “oh fuck, it’s all going to shit soon…” I guess Sara felt lost enough that she was suddenly willing to give him a second chance. And the whole “is that going to happen to me?” bit really made me sad. That she understands that mental health and mental illness is unfortunately many times hereditary, and worries that she might become just like him… But despite not being entirely like him, with addiction problems and such, she was still unreliable like him, she did bad things to her family like he did… I was rooting for you, Micke, we were all rooting for you.

- I feel that August’s love for status and for the monarchy might be starting to fray at the edges. First with the fact that he was reminded of his own traumatizing initiation, and reminded of how the crown prince, his cousin and friend and idol, himself was part of that. Second with the fact that Simon points out that he might have an eating disorder, how he would probably not fare any better than the queen if he were in such a stressful position as crown prince or king, how difficult it is for him to handle stress and anxiety. And third with seeing how it affects Wille and Simon and realizing that something similar might still happen to him and Sara. And the fact that he reveals to Sara why he is the way he is, that he lets his guard down with her, might point to even more growth (even though I hate that Sara sort of gave him a “second chance” again). Also I feel the reality of how they, the Royal Court, would control his life is finally sinking in. Hopefully he will also soon realize that they also use him as a manipulation tool. So maybe he won’t let himself be manipulated by them much longer.

- I loved Wille’s ultimate outburst at his mother and father, i love that he told them everything they needed to hear, about their emotional abuse, their neglect. Unfortunately they still refused to acknowledge how terrible parents they have been, and walked off, instead of trying to resolve it. So Wille throwing around the gifts, as impulsive and tantrum-ish it might come across, makes perfect sense. He tries to talk and gets nothing in return. If he’s repressed it’s bad, but if he expresses himself then nothing happens either.

- And I love that Simon got to see what Wille is really dealing with. As privileged as he might be, he’s still lacking the most important things: unconditional support and love. No amount of money or status can make it better, and Wille is broken. The only thing is that, Simon saw how broken Wille was over the death of his brother, whom he loved very much, but I don’t think he quite grasps the gravity of Wille learning that maybe that beloved brother wouldn’t have been so cool with him, because he has never had to deal with a parent or sibling rejecting him for his sexuality. It’s something very different to be rejected by society at large than it is to be rejected by your own family, and not everyone has the emotional strength to deal with that. So for Wille’s parents to still like his potentially homophobic dead brother more than him, is heart-wrenching. But I don’t think Simon really gets that because he’s probably not surprised that Erik might have been like that, because in his eyes those privileged kids in that school (except obviously Wille, and Felice and Madison, who is asking about the non-binaries) are probably all massive homophobes.

- Despite this, I love that Simon sets boundaries nonetheless. I mean, it hurt like fucking hell for him to tell Wille, on his fucking birthday, that maybe they shouldn’t be together. But just because Wille is hurting doesn’t mean that Simon has not also been hurting too. And if they can’t comfort each other, and try to support each other when they both obviously most need it, then maybe they’re just not going to work. And it took a lot of guts for Simon to bring it up in that moment, in Wille’s bed, in the palace, where he’s basically trapped, with nowhere to go, no way to get away (I doubt he called Linda in the middle of the night to come pick him up more than two hours away in Stockholm).

My hopes for the final episode (I don’t think I have any predictions other than, open ending or not, Wilmon will be endgame and there will be a revolution, I just don’t know how):

- Wilmon talk. An actual, healthy, heartfelt talk. A reconciliation for the ages.

- That the fucking school will close and August won’t be able to graduate, and he’ll realize that maybe he shouldn’t have “lived for that school”, as Erik once put it.

- That Wille will realize that, if Erik was not the person he thought he was, then maybe he no longer has to live up to his legacy anymore. @foreverunraveling pointed out how, now that the big Erik revelation is confirmed, then maybe the queen’s trump card to manipulate Wille into being the ideal crown prince is gone. Wille doesn’t care about the monarchy really, but he did care about not disappointing his brother, the “perfect crown prince”, and now we know that he was far from perfect. Erik lived a double life, as Wille points out, there was “public Erik” or crown prince Erik, and there was “private Erik”, or the real Erik (or so Wille thought, now we know there was a “secret Erik” which was the real Erik) and Wille struggles so much with the idea of having to split himself in two, . Wille cannot live a double life, he withers away when he has to hide himself, and now he gets the opportunity to leave that stifling life behind, and blossom.

- That Simon will get a fucking break. I hate that his whole life was turned upside down from the moment the video was leaked, and it’s just never going to be the same, whether he stays with Wille or not, he’ll always be the boy from the crown prince sex tape, he’ll always be the crown prince’s ex, or the crown prince’s boyfriend. But I want some positive feedback for him, someone bigger than the woman and the little boy wanting a selfie. I want him to have his own fanclub or something. Maybe that’s too idealistic…? (I may be imagining something like that scene in Red White and Royal Blue, when they realize that there’s a whole crowd outside the palace all excited to the the Prince and his First son boyfriend… one can dream).

- I want whatever Felice said during the interview to be taken seriously, and for her to stop doubting herself.

- I want a genuine apology from August.

- Also one from Kristina.

- I get the feeling that the fact that August leaked the video might still come out publicly, what with the whole school issue. And in that case, I would like for it to be Simon might to do it, tossing the money from the settlement in his face. It looks like Simon still feels guilty about accepting it, especially when he chided Wille about his privilege and Wille (figuratively) threw the money back in his face. What if Simon does it literally?

- I really wanna know what’s going to happen between Felice and Sara now. The outlook is not good.

- Is it too much to ask to know what’s going on between Stella and Fredrika?

- Most importantly, is the whole thing with Erik going to come out eventually? And how will people react? With support for the monarchy, or with support for Wille?

I have so many more thoughts, but I’m slightly burnt out, and I really should take a break. Also this is way too long. Might have more thoughts once I’ve rewatched the first five episodes, calmly over the weekend…

Also this is very long and I’m sorry.

[starlight-library]

So American | LN4 & MV1

pairing: lando norris x oc x max verstappen

summary: Snippets of times that Storm, an up and coming American figure skater, being Lando and Max's favorite American soon to he partner friend

warning: fluff! some mad thirsting from Storm. but really just fluff!

FC: @/simimoonlight on instagram!

WC: 4.7K

a/n: Storm is genderfluid uses all pronouns fluently so the pronoun shifts are intentional, to showcase how they're presenting! yes! it is based off of 'So American' by Olivia Rodrigo! Yes, i did added the lyrics in! No, i do not own the song and all rights to her!! also, i blame @norrisleclercf1 for getting me on the norstappen train!!! so enjoy my first attempt at this!!

Drivin' on the right-side road. He says I'm pretty wearin' his clothes.

“Surprise!” Storm beams a bright smile at the older McLaren driver, arms stretched out wide for a hug while standing outside his hotel room. She almost cackles at the surprised expressions Lando is currently sporting before he rushes over, laughing and smiling as Lando pulls Storm into a tight hug, spinning her around before putting her down in shock. Storm is trying so hard to stay focused on Lando words as he rambles about them being here for Silverstone and all the things they’ll have to do before he stops, glances down, and laughs.

“Is this my hoodie?”

Glancing down at themselves, Storm feels her face suddenly on fire from being called out but she keeps her cool as she looks up at the Brit, “yeah. You left it at my place so now it’s mine. If you want it back, you’ll have to fight me for it and Max already took his back.”

Lando laughs as he shakes his head, “Calm down. As much as I love this hoodie, it looks much better on you. Max only took it back because Sassy loves to hide in his hoodies but I think I can part with this one if you promise to wear it often,” he beams that stupid heart stopping smile with a wink, “did you drive here?”

“Yes Lando, I drove here from the airport” making a face, “I don’t need someone to drive me around, Lando.”

“Booooooooooooooo! Return the car! I’ll drive you around while you’re here.”

“I think you just want an excuse to make fun of my driving and show me how to “properly drive” as you claim.”

“Am I wrong?”

Storm gasps and smacks Lando’s arm who is not fast enough to avoid it but he’s laughing. “Asshole!” Storm claims, “so the answer will be no.”

Crossing their arms over their chest, Storm studies Lando. She can’t help the small smile that appears on her face as Lando whines and complains that there’s no reason for Storm to drive when Lando is right here to be her personal chauffeur, especially at his home race. Storm shakes their head refusing to budge on the subject as Lando starts to coax them to put their things down so they can get drinks in the lobby.

And he's got hands that make hell seem cold.

“Jesus,” Lando hisses as his hand brushes against Storm’s hand as he takes his drink from her, “why are your hands freezing?”

“Maybe it’s because you run extremely hot all the time?” Storm counters.

“No no—put that down.”

Storm does and she blinks when Lando takes her hands into his. His hands are gigantic, completely engulfing her own, and they’re so “Lando, what the fu—”

“Storm, you're freezing. How are you okay with running this cold? And spare me the ‘I’m an ice skater’ bullshit. I know they’re all thermal so you don’t freeze.”

“How do you know that?”

“Common sense,” Lando states before speaking after a beat, “also cause I know you mentioned your tights ripping and money was a bit tight—”

“You bought me tights? Lando you didn’t have to do that. I have to pay you back—”

“No. Just take them. No strings attached. Really. Also stop distracting me from the fact you run way too cold—”

Storm laughs softly and shakes her head. They’ll die before admitting aloud that she has low iron and that she’s been taking iron pills but had forgotten to take one while traveling all the way out to the UK. Instead, she shrugs softly, “maybe it’s just the UK I’m allergic to,” she jokes with a grin.

Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote…I wish I wrote.

“Put your feet down!”

“No way!” Lando laughs as he shifts in the passenger seat with his feet up on the dashboard, “you refused to let me drive you around so now I get to play passenger princess! They do this all the time, why can’t I?”

“Cause god forbid I break short or something and then boom! Broken legs or worse, amputated legs,” Storm glances at the Brit trying her hardest to not cave and break this facade she’s put on, “I’ll buy you—fucking ice cream or something and won’t tell your trainer if you take your feet off the dashboard so I’m less stressed.”

Lando tilts his head from side to side before finally moving his legs off the dashboard, sighing dramatically as if Storm banned him from having fun. Storm laughs at the dramatic antics from the Brit but keeps driving as she steals a glance. Lando’s scrolling through his phone for something, maybe a song, but Storm can’t help but watch how his curls blow in the wind or how he’s got this glint in his eye when he focused or how sometimes he’ll end up making a duck face in thought and somehow make it work. Forcing her gaze away Storm continues driving and pushes the feelings down.

When he laughs at all my jokes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, it's just not fair of him to make me feel this much.

The days leading up to Silverstone felt like a dream that Storm did not want to wake up from. From the late night chats to the gaming to the shopping to the exploring, Storm can’t really pinpoint the last time she’s had this much fun, even if it’s just lounging around in his hotel room, Storm high out of her mind while Lando is basically giving her a fashion show for an outfit for media day.

“Your tolerance must be shit,” Storm says while sprawled out on the bed.

“It is,” Lando glances at her from the mirror while buttoning his shirt. Sea green eyes meet brown and Storm smiles and is thankful he looks away to finish getting dressed, “I’ll have some time during summer break but not much. Might have to stick to carts until the season ends.”

“One hit and you’ll be seeing god.”

“It’s better than the American on my bed,” Lando smirks in the mirror.

I'll go anywhere he goes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up.

“Well, this American will now stop giving fashion advice since the Brit seems to know so much more.” Storm starts, “and I guess this American just will sell her Hungary tickets a—”

“You’re going to Hungary too?!” Lando turns sharply to face Storm.

Sighing dramatically, Storm looks at the ceiling “Well, not anymore since someone would rather see God than the American.”

“I was kidding!” Lando starts and Storm just dramatically tosses her head to the sigh before Lando is launching himself onto the bed. Storm screams slightly and rolls so she’s not suffocated or injured and covers her mouth out of shock. Lando’s laughing and Storm shifts, grabbing a pillow. “Asshole!” Storm swears and smacks him with the pillow just as he sits up and she gasps before cackling at the McLaren driver falling off the bed.

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love.

Silverstone was not the results McLaren wanted. They were too greedy and the calls were all off. Why were the boys being left to make these decisions? Why didn’t they do a double pit in the beginning when McLaren was p1-p2. Storm debated if a lifetime ban from the garage would be worth cursing the race engineers out but Storm decided it wasn’t worth it in the long run so instead Storm took to stepping out of the garage to not get banned. 

Watching the podium from her spot in the garage, she couldn’t help but smile sadly. As much as she was proud of Lewis for getting his home win, she knew that this meant so much to Lando (and George who didn’t even finish) as well and Lando was so close. If the calls were just right maybe it would’ve been a different outcome. 

Storm hears the anger in his voice when Lewis points out they pitted Lando a lap too late. She winces slightly at it before she depearts and starts making her way to see the podium, hanging closer to the back as the boys appear. She’s thankful Max is up there as well, to be a support beam for Lando. Storm refuses to imagine what this would’ve been if Max and Lando let Austria really get to their friendship, even if she hasn’t talked much even with Lando there.

When the podium is over and everyone’s finishing up, Storm is lingering around the McLaren garage. Scrolling through her phone, she glances up seeing the Red Bull driver and pockets her phone as she steps forward intercepting his path. “Max,” Storm starts with a smile, backing up slightly seeing she had startled the male.

“Oh–Justice, is it?”

“Uh, yeah but everyone calls me Storm. Call me Storm, please.” 

“Okay. Storm it is,” Max smiles and nods.

“Thanks. I also just wanted to say thank you, for today.”

“You’re welcome for…what exactly?”

“Trying to cheer Lando up. I saw you really tried ever since the race ended,” Storm admits, “he really needed that so thank you. Especially after Austria..” letting her voice trail off for a moment, “it means a lot coming from you so, I just wanted to say thank you. Now if you excuse me, I have to deal with a moping Lando for the evening.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Max offers, “to have help while he’s moping. He can be–”

“A lot,” Storm finishes, “I know but…I’d appreciate that a lot.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby. We can–take him to the bar there or I can buy something on the way back and we can drink and just relax in his room.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you soon.”

God, I'm so boring and I'm so rude. Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you.

“I was thinking–are you even listening to me?”

“Hm? Yeah, totally.”

“Liar. You’re not even looking at me. You haven’t spoken in thirty five minutes. You’ve just shut me out.”

“Just because I’m not looking at my phone doesn’t mean I’m not listening. Also the fact you know how long I’ve been quiet is a bit weird.”

There’s a noise on the other end, “It’s not weird when you’re typically always talking. What are you doing anyway that’s apparently so important?”

“Looking for costume ideas for my competition,” Storm mutters while glancing at his phone for a second then back to his laptop, “what were you saying again?”

“So you were ignoring me. That’s rude, you know”

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was just prioritizing my competition--"

"Competition for what?"

"Figure skating," Storm glances at the screen then away, "and being genderfluid sometimes suck cause that means more costumes to fit the mood. Doesn't matter since you’re just talking my ear off and probably will continue talking my ear off for another another three hours about your cats,” Storm jokes and smirks hearing the noise that comes from the other end of the FaceTime call before he starts to mimic Max’s rant. 

Storm has heard the same playful rant so much that Storm has accidentally memorized it ever since the end of Silverstone with Storm and Max talking more often now, especially with Lando spending time with family and Quadrant which…Storm didn’t hate at all. 

The way you dress and the books you read. 

Storm was truly no better than a man or woman or person. Deep in the back of Storm’s mind, Storm is kicking himself right now for staring shamelessly at Max but how could they not? Any other time they’ve spoken to Red Bull’s current golden boy, he’s always in Red Bull merch which did not do him any justice. 

The plain black t-shirt and jeans with sneakers and a backwards cap? That was doing him all the justice in the world as the two sat at the bar, waiting for drinks. Storm knew where he should look but he was going to take every inch of Max’s figure in while he could. 

Storm started at his thighs. It was a shame Max didn’t wear shorts as often because he had some killer thighs. Honestly, Storm bet he could crush a watermelon easily with them…or Storm’s head. Either way, Storm would be very content. They also looked so rideable. Storm would love nothing more than to just swing a leg over and get himself off on Max’s thigh.

Moving his gaze up, Storm sucked his bottom lip between his teeth while staring at Max’s chest. The way the shirt clung to his chest was impossible to ignore. The way his muscles twitched and flex with the simplest of movements. Storm would kill to sink his teeth into his biceps or have a bicep around his waist or his throat.

Looking up more, Storm settles on studying Max’s face. How his eyes shine from the bar lights, how his jaw twitches slightly or his lips are together as he looks over before smiling brightly at Storm. Storm blinks before smiling back but glancing away, embarrassed for just staring Max down like a piece of meat. 

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me. When he's with me.

Time really does fly when you’re having fun. Storm had come to Monaco to hang out with Lando since he had the time off but he was stuck in meetings all day. Storm didn’t really want to sit in their hotel room by themselves so they had called Max. Max was more than kind to let Storm hang out at his apartment while Storm waited for Lando to finish his meetings.

What was meant to be a few hours turned into Storm walking around holding Jimmy and Sassy while Max was in the kitchen cooking dinner. What was just meant to kill some time turned into Storm trying to explain how wonderful Waffle House was to Max and “when you guys come to Austin, I have to take you!” What was meant to just be a quick stop turned into Storm and Max on the couch watching some really cheesy spoof movie with the cats just dissecting the movie.

“Oh my fucking god it’s almost midnight!” Storm proclaims when they finally check their phone. They don’t feel as bad since Lando sent a text apologizing that he’s been in meetings all day and had to handle stuff for Quadrant and he’d make it up to them, “I need to get back to the hotel–”

“Just stay.”

“What?” Storm looks.

“I said stay. It’s late,” Max forces himself to prop himself up on his elbows, “or I can take you back but you shouldn’t be driving. All the crazies are out.”

“That’s a kind offer but it’s fine,” Storm is looking around for their jacket, “besides. If you drive me, then I won’t have a car. What am I going to do then? Huh?” Turning to face him, “have you or Lando drive me all over town?” 

The silence that falls upon the apartment is almost comical. Storm is waiting for Max to answer but all instead they just get a blank face and finally an eyebrow raise as if Storm’s question was a stupid one. Shaking their head, Storm turns back around and grabs their things as there’s shuffling behind them.

“I appreciate the offer,” a silent one that is, “but really. I can handle a twenty minute drive back,” Storm turns and nearly jumps out their skin with how close Max is, who’s currently got his arm outstretched to grab a jacket, “what are you doing?”

“Walking you to the car.”

There’s no point of arguing with Max once his mind is made up. Any other time, Storm would argue but it’s late and Storm is counting their blessings that Max was letting them drive back to the hotel. The two chatted all the way there and Storm waved bye as Max watched them drive off.

Laying in their hotel bed, Storm stares at the ceiling before looking at the digital clock on their nightstand. 3am. Looking back at the ceiling, Storm tries to convince themselves that they can’t sleep is totally not because talking to Max was so easy and nice and they would’ve much preferred to stay up all night hanging out with him. They’re wide awake because they had to drive back and they’re struggling to fall back asleep.

It doesn't work but Storm can try. 

When he laughs at all my jokes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, it's just not fair of him to make me feel this much.

The week in Monaco is a blur in the best way possible.

Storm found herself with Max when she wasn’t running around with Lando. For most of it, they just hung out at his apartment watching movies or Storm learning way too much about F1 while Max was on the sim. Hell, she happily sits in the corner when he streams and swallows her giggles though it doesn’t matter. The chat can see Max turning to look back at Storm with that stupid, stunning smile.

I'll go anywhere he goes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up.

Storm wasn’t a huge party person. Sure, they enjoyed going out but the consistent partying like other celebrities and pro athletes? Not really and they always got teased about it by their friends.

Storm found themselves out at a club in Monaco, vibing to the music as they gently sway from side to side against the wall. “I should’ve taken being teased,” Storm mutters to themselves as they glance around the club. How people went clubbing by themselves, they would never know and they gave them so much credit for being that confident. Sighing gently, at least Storm could say they tried it and it wasn’t their vibe.

“Storm!”

Perking their head up, Storm’s a bit surprised to see Max making his way over, “what are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.”

‘He’s tipsy’ Storm thinks. Between his accent being thicker, the very slight slurred speech, and the alcohol–Red Bull and vodka–Storm deduces he’s tipsy at least. Putting their lips together, they can’t help but smile slightly as Max leans against the wall, wincing slightly when he hits it a bit harder than probably intended. 

“I asked you first.”

“Lando. Well Lando and Charles. They wanted a night out and I did promise Lando ‘next time’ and well,” gesturing to the club, “here I am.”

“Ah.”

“You?”

Storm instinctively leans back slightly when Max leans in slightly, “ If I had known Lando was organizing something, I probably would’ve come with you guys but I tried solo clubbing.”

“Find anyone?”

Storm practically jumps out of her skin at the new voice. Turning their head to the side, they see Lando on the other side, clutching their shirt. Relaxing when they realize that it’s just Lando, they settle against the wall to look at the two drivers. Mulling the question over, Storm tilts their head slightly.

“Is that all you think about?” Storm quirks a brow, “not everyone is looking for someone.”

“Are you?” Max asks.

“No–” Storm internally winces at how fast they answered, “I mean, not particularly,” they correct themselves considering the only two they would want currently have them trapped between them, “I’m a bit…”

“Picky?” Lando leans in with a smirk.

“Guarded,” Storm retorts.

They notice Lando’s eye dart to Max and they glances at Max, who shoots a look back at Lando. Unsure of the silent conversation happening right now, Storm decides as much as they would love to stay and be the center of these boys' attention and talk to their friends, they decide to give them the time to talk.

“Well,” Storm announces promptly, “this was a great chat but I have to go. Been here so long, you know,” pushing off the wall and just out of their grasp, Storm turns to them with a smile, “and I have a flight to catch in the morning so I’ll see you guys!”

Storm proceeds to slip onto the dance floor as the music drowns out the pleas from Lando and Max as the crowd swallows Storm whole before they exit on the other side. They cover their face in embarrassment. How stupid could they have been? That was the perfect situation to be in with their two crushes and yet they panicked and chickened out. Hopefully something eventful happens and they forget about this interaction.

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love. I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon but if the conversation ever were to come up I don't wanna assume this stuff…

“That was a really good job out there. I think you’re gonna do great at World’s this year. Maybe even win.”

“Thanks coach,” Storm says, skating over to the edge of the rink with a smile before waddling off carefully to sit on the bench and take her skates off, “you think so?”

“Yeah. Just keep up with what you’re doing. Don’t overwork yourself,” coach jokes as Storm ties her boots and grabs her bag, standing up. Laughing slightly, the two exit the rink before parting ways.

Taking their phone out, Storm checks her phone as she walks to her car. She opens her messages and is greeted with pictures of Jimmy and Sassy and Lando memeifying them. She sits in her car, laughing to herself as she finally answers.

STORM - LN

There you are! - MV

Here I am - ST

How was practice? - LN

Good! Coach thinks I can win World’s this year but I think she’s being nice. - ST

No, I think your coach is right. - MV

Yeah, your coach doesn’t say that shit slightly. You’ve told me first hand. - LN

Yeah but, I don’t know. One step at a time, you know? Let me get through the competition this week. - ST

WHAT? You’re competing and didn’t tell us?! - LN

I did! I said I’m gonna be busy with practice for the competition this week! Max, back me up. - ST

Lando’s right. We were unaware. - MV

Really? Shit, sorry guys. I swore I told you guys. - ST

BOOOOOO. I wanna see you compete :( - LN

Me as well. - MV

Well, maybe next time! Or I can, you know, teach you guys how to figure skate and do something. - ST

PLEASE. - LN

For Lando to break something? I don’t know. - MV

HEY. - LN

Haha, true. Well, I gotta drive home, talk to you guys soon! - ST

Laaaame, drive safe though! - LN

Text us when you get home. - MV

Text you. I’m stalking their location as we speak! - LN

But ain't it love? Think I'm in love.

“And our first place winner, taking it by a tenth of a point is…Justice Storm Thatcher!”

Storm stood dumbly in her spot on the side before she moved as the crowd erupted in applause. Making her way onto the ice, Storm skated over to the podium, thanking the other two winners when they offered their hands to help her up, smiling wide. She bent down for her medal before standing back up, smiling brightly. She couldn’t believe that she won her competition. 

After photos and congratulating the other two, who returned the congratulations, Storm made her way off the ice and hugged her coach tightly, beaming. She was speaking, they both were, but it was hard to hear over all the noise of everyone talking and leaving. 

Eventually, Storm emerges from the locker room in sweatpants, sporting her leotard as a top. She’s trying to find her friends that she knew came and she turns to hear her name being shouted. Spying a hand in the air, she starts making her through the crowd, half apologizing and half not caring. She sees an opening and bursts through before stopping in her tracks at the sight before her. 

“Storm!” Storm stumbles back when Lando barrels into her chest and she hugs back, not as hard as Lando, still in shock as Max makes his way over. 

Pulling back, Lando puts his hands on her chest, “You were amazing!”

“I–what are you guys doing here?!”

“You thought you’d have a competition and we wouldn’t be here?” Max asks, offended.

“Well no it’s just–” Storm is baffled. She really isn’t sure what to say and Lando laughs as Max pulls her into a hug that she also semi returns.

“Are those for me?” Storm asks as she’s handed a bouquet of flowers, looking between the two.

“Of course dude. You thought we’d show up empty handed?” Lando scoffs.

“It’s not a proper celebration if we don’t go out,” Max adds, “Storm, where are we going?”

“Applebee’s.”

“...I’ve never been to an Applebee’s,” Max admits and Lando nods in agreement

“What?! You guys haven’t been to an Applebee’s?! Oh come on. We have to go! I want my bucket of alcohol–”

“Bucket!?”

“That cannot be possible,” Max shakes his head.

“Come on!” Storm starts leading the charge out of the door, “let’s go! Bucket of alcohol and half-apps! On me!”

“You are NOT paying!” Lando and Max shout as they follow after her.

When he laughs at all my jokes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, it's just not fair of him to make me feel this much. I'll go anywhere he goes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up…

Introducing Lando and Max to Applebee’s was better than winning any competition. They sat at a high top table, Storm seated across the two drivers. Storm nearly chokes on her water seeing the pure shock / joy that forms on the boys faces when the drinks arrive and Storm is handed a small bucket of alcohol. 

“Could we just have a few more minutes to decide?” Storm asks the waiter and smiles when the waiter agrees and leaves.

“What are you getting?” Max asks.

“Appetizers.”

“You just gave the performance of your life, and you want to get appetizers?” Lando asks.

“And?”

“You need food.”

“It’s half apps! You don’t come to Applebee’s at this hour to get an actual meal, you come for drinks and half apps. Trust me,” Storm huffs seeing the look Max and Lando exchange, “I’m telling you guys.”

Lando decides to follow suit with the appetizers and Max, begrudgingly, also follows suit when the waiter comes back around. Storm can’t help but cackle when they realize how big the portions are for just appetizers and the three end up staying for roughly an hour just talking and chatting while working on their food and drinks. 

Storm isn’t entirely happy that Lando and Max refused to let her pay or even help with the tip after she explained how tipping works. The three head out and the smart thing would be heading home and getting some sleep.

Instead, Storm finds herself stirring from her slumber the next morning as the sun creeps through the blinds. Rubbing her eyes, she closes her eyes and shifts hearing someone grunt. Storm tries to settle down but now she notices a weight on her and opens her eyes again.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she looks over seeing the digital clock read 2:10pm. She was supposed to stay a few hours but Max, Lando, and her had spent so long talking and goofing off that by the time someone, she can’t remember who, declared bed time, it was almost 4am. 

There’s a leg tossed over hers and an arm. Storm looks around and realizes she’s between bodies. Rubbing her eyes again, her eyes focus on blonde hair tousled to her left and curly dark hair to her right realizing that the three of them ended up in a cuddle pile. 

Storm makes the mistake of trying to sit up before Max and Lando both make some form of protest and Storm is pulled back down between them. Staring at the ceiling, Storm lets out a silent laugh.

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love ~

[chubs-deuce]

Ngl I used to be a Charlastor hater but then I saw your art and AHHHH

Like, before if you asked me for any ships I hated I immediately would've said Charlastor but now I don't really hate any ships (except the absolutely disgusting ones like Charcifer ect.)

As a Radioapple shipper, I personally must ask all others why they hate it so much, because tbh the only reason I used to hate it wasn't even such a big deal.

So long story short YOU got me to kinda like Charlastor, and I honestly don't understand why other Radioapple shippers would go through all the effort to comment on a Charlastor post why they hate it.

I love you're art <3

Kskskd

I'm very flattered to hear that my art managed to change your mind!!!

I'm ngl I genuinely don't care what other people like ship-wise, if it's something I don't like I'll just mute tags so I don't need to see it and let them enjoy it in peace.

I don't understand the need to be so vocal about hating a pairing bc honestly? Doing that in public posts is just so painfully performative...

I think actually that most people who go out of their way to be assholes about shipping usually look at shipping as a form of activism and try to make it a morality issue so they can look superior and by "calling it out" and feel like a protective pillar of the community or whatever by trying to bully people out of ships they deem bad -

("charlastors are homophobic and hate Vaggie bc she gets in the way of the ship and mistreat her!!!" - most charlastor fanworks these days either have them break up amicably or never date to begin with, this argument usually references a few niche older fanworks that got popular in the pilot days or a couple of toxic individuals that we also hate and don't want here but neither reflect the ship community at large)

("charlastors are homophobic bc Charlie is canonically a lesbian and putting her with a man is weird" - that's bi erasure, actually)

("Alastor wants to be her dad that's basically incest" - 1) Alastor only said that bc he knew it'd get under Lucifer's skin the fastest 2) what a mental gymnastics silver medal winner conclusion to equate what's essentially a sugar daddy joke to incest like do words just not mean anything anymore?)

("the age gap is weird" - this argument never means the fact that Charlie is basically twice Alastor's age and just goes off of vibes which is imo weirder and speaks volumes abt how much Charlie gets infantilized in this fandom)

- And bc they like the "funny old man yaoi" ship instead that also obviously makes them superior by default and thus in a position to judge over the het ship filth /s

Like. My friend you are allowed to just not like something without putting all that energy into making sure everyone knows how morally superior you are by invading spaces that are clearly not meant for you and making up reasons to be mad 😅

(It's an especially bad look when they're being hypocritical about it and don't practice what they preach but the hypocrisy of ship haters like these is another can of worms entirely)

Ah well.

I'm honestly very glad that I've not had to really deal with much of that hateful nonsense directly - I've seen more than enough bullshit happen to others qwq

I just genuinely don't understand why we've got to argue so much all the time

I just wanna play with my dolls and make them smooch in my little corner without bothering anyone lmfao

[harukamitsuki]

Okay... I am currently back on my Voltron bullshit and continuing my rewrite of Voltron. And I'm constantly reminding of HOW MUCH I HATE LANCE.

Don't get me wrong. I am still treating Lance fairly in my fic, making sure he gets screen-time and a proper character acr and stuff.

But by GODS. This man pisses me off so much and that's only made worse by his stans. I was scrolling through Keith's tag here on tumblr. I also have Kl@nce filtered out. I cannot see a single post without at least three pages of scrolling and then it's only ONE POST. AND IT'S STILL KLANCE BECAUSE IT HASN'T BEEN TAGGED CORRECTLY.

Anyway. Onto the actual things I hate about Lance and not just his fandom.

Lance is a fucking asshole. I mean that on the deepest level. Let's go through it chronologically because I cannot rank it from least to most assholery, because some things are on the same level.

1 - Allura wakes up from the cryopod and Lances catches her. She's confused and dazed and the first thing you should do is ask if she's alright. Oh, but Lance is above that. Instead, he flirts with her. Karma given immediately as she calls his ears hideous and puts him in a submission hold, which is why I kept that scene in my fic, but that was still wrong. I know it was played for comedic effect, but that doesn't make it not canon. It's canonically accurate that if you've awoken from a coma, Lance's first instinct is to flirt with you if you're pretty.

2 - Literally throws Hunk into the middle of a battle. I get that Hunk was supposed to leave the Lion anyway, but just shoving him out when there are lasers everywhere and Hunk has no protection? Yeah. So much for 'best friend'. Add on the fact that Lance never really treats Hunk like a friend. At all.

3 - Okay. Season 1 Lance isn't bad outside of those two examples, even if he has his dumb moments, so let's jump to Season 2. Starting shit with Keith for no reason. People can go 'oh, Keith obviously did something to him at the Garrison' but he DIDN'T. The writers themselves confirmed that Keith did nothing to Lance, he just started shit with Keith all the fucking time. Like accussing Keith of wanting Blue and cutting him off when he tried to explain what was actually happening, even though Lance is the one who was outraged initially that Keith had Red. Or how about Lance getting up in Shiro's face and screaming his head off about how Keith would rather kill people than listen to them, as if he knew Keith at all after bullying him the entire time.

4 - Okay. This one pissed me off the most and is the biggest reason I'm making this post. The fact that Lance used Shiro's death/disappearance against Keith. Keith outwardly expresses his lack of desire to become the leader and accidentally let it slip that Shiro wanted him to do it. To which Lance is all 'convenient that you say that when Shiro's gone'. What. What the fuck. Stans really say that Lance is precious but how the hell are you justifying that? A blind man could see how much Keith loves Shiro, and Lance has the fucking gall the say that Keith is USING his death/disappearance for a position he doesn't want? He didn't even apologise for it. He just told Keith to suck it up later on. This is one of the reasons I hated Lance as the Red Paladin, the others being explained in an earlier post of mine.

5 - Oh, yeah. We're not done. Because after Keith, it's Allura. Allur@nce is probably the worst ship that could have happened, apart from Kl@nce. If you wanted a straight ship, how about what was canon for the past Voltron series? Kallura? Anyway. Yeah, Lance treats Allura like a prize instead of a person. He's posessive in a way that he has no right to be because they were not together. He glares at Matt for flirting with Allura, something he only does once. He gets mad at Lotor and tries to stop them from spending time together, EVEN THOUGH LOTOR IS HELPING ALLURA AND BONDING THROUGH ALTEAN THINGS. HELPING HER KEEP IN TOUCH WITH ALTEAN CULTURE. In Season 8, he literally yells that it should be Lance and Allura?? What a fucking weirdo?? You can't claim that you're destined to be with someone without being together. That's not how healthy relationships work. That's how a stalker's mind works. Lance is constantly flirting with Allura throughout all of Voltron and she never once reciprocated until Season 8 where it's so obvious that Lance is just a rebound but the writers wanna make it so that it's 'true love' and they want Lance to be happier than anyone so they just gift her to him like some sort of trophy. Lance didn't care about loving Allura, he cared about winning her. At least Lotor actually cared for and respected her. I still don't like canon Lotor, but that's mostly because the writers didn't want to deal with gray morality. Cowards.

1 - Honestly the worst example of a leader. It's shown from episode one. Now, there is the argument of learning to become one, but Lance just never learns? He's never facing the consequences of his actions and, if he is lectured, he ignores it. Keith actually takes lessons to heart and tries to improve and he does. If Lance became the Black Paladin, the universe would have been doomed because he can't get over himself for a single moment to even bother listening to anyone else's advice.

So. Yeah. Those are the main reasons why Lance is an asshole. Now to make the Lance stans really pissed.

Reasons why Lance would have been a terrible leader and could never have been the Black Paladin.

Remember episode one? Remember how the hydraulic stabiliser was out in the simulator and Lance still tried to push on, even though Pidge and Hunk advised him not to? Totally great leadership qualities there. There's nothing better than a leader that refuses to listen to you. 'Oh, but Keith is stubborn and didn't listen--' yes he did. He's stubborn and unrelenting at first, but he eventually realises that they're right.

Remember episode three? Remember when Lance bragged about kicking, which made Voltron fall, then proceeded to try it again and failed again even when Keith advised him not to? Yeah. Lance does not make good decisions and does not listen to any advise. Even from the leader's right hand man.

Remember Season 1 Episode 12? Remember how they were waiting for Shiro and Allura to get back and then Keith saw someone taking quintessence so he decided to follow them? Remember how Lance said no and was ignored but did nothing more to stop Keith? He has no authority and no charisma to keep anyone at bay. Pidge herself mocks Lance for being the pinnacle for leadership. Sarcastically. Because he's far from it.

Pidge doesn't respect Lance as a leader, Keith never would considering Lance treats him like shit, Allura can't take Lance seriously with him hitting on her every ten seconds, and Hunk is always questioning Lance's decisions. If nobody respects you, you cannot be a good leader.

2 - Easily distracted. Yes, it's a very popular headcanon that Lance has ADHD, and I agree with that, but that doesn't make it okay. And he's distracted in the easiest ways. Just shove a pretty girl and he'll instantly get distracted and lead the entire team to doom. Remember Nyma and how easy it was for her to steal the Blue Lion? How he didn't even warn anyone that he was taking her out for a ride because he didn't want anyone contesting his conquest? Yeah.

Don't get me wrong. It's fine to have ADHD or get distracted easily. Monkey D. Luffy from One Piece is a great example of a leader who gets easily distracted, but the second he sets his mind on something, he blocks everything out. Lance just doesn't have the capability to do that, nor do I think he'd be able to learn how to.

3 - Gets jealous really easily. As in. Really fucking easily. He's jealous of Keith from the get-go, starting a one-sided rivalry that he's constantly on the losing side of because Keith doesn't care. He gets jealous of Matt when he flirts a bit with Allura. He gets extremely jealous of Lotor for having actual chemistry with Allura. He's constantly jealous and a good leader is only ever in competition with himself. A good leader will only strive to become better for the sake of the team, not to say that they're better than someone else, much less if they're someone that you are in charge of. It's a horrible trait to have.

Jealousy in and of itself is not a bad thing. It's when that jealousy overrides your logic and controls you, instead of you controlling your jealousy: which Lance struggles with a lot. And getting jealous over anyone who even looks at your crush is a very bad thing to do because you do not own your crush. It's okay to be jealous, but not posessively like Lance is. Not to the extent of trying to scare off any potential suitors.

4 - Nowhere near as skilled as Keith or Shiro. Sure, the writers may claim that he is better, but the proof is in the pudding. Keith and Shiro are fucking unmatched. I've defended Lance's skills in a previous post, but I also said in that post that, while he is skilled, he is nowhere near Shiro or Keith's level. I mean, Shiro was the golden child of the Garrison and set so many records. He was known as the best pilot. Keith beat those records and his flying capabilities are always, always noted. I haven't heard a single character comment on Lance's skills, other than to point out how bad they are. Keith was the only one who could have flew through the astroid field, he was the only one who could fly into the Marmora base which was in a blue star surrounded by two black holes, he was able to fly a Galra jet just by pushing the right buttons and knowing what the do, and he's the one who unlocks the warping abilities of the Black Lion. Shiro was able to connect with the Black Lion far before anyone else, able to see through Black and connect with Black to the point of his soul being saved by her.

Lance hasn't done anything spectacular. And, no. He was not 'done dirty'. He was given almost everything he wanted except the Black Lion. The writers claim he's the best pilot, but have not shown it at all. In my eyes, Keith and Shiro will always be the best.

5 - Selfish. Again. Nothing against being selfish. It's perfectly fine to be selfish, so long as it doesn't actively harm others. But for a leader? You should be as selfless as you can be. The team comes before you. And that's exactly what Lance isn't.

Lance is selfish and that's okay, but it's not leadership material. The whole reason Black rejected him is because he wanted the position out of selfish reasons. When he enters Black, he says 'Come on, Lance. You can do this'. In other words, he wants to pilot her because he wants to prove himself. He wants the acknowledgement. He wants the title of the Black Paladin and leader. Black accepted Keith, both at the start of Season 2 and Season 3, because he piloted her for purely selfless reasons. For Shiro.

Lance wants things for himself. Keith wanted things for Shiro. It was only after Shiro came back, (or so they thought), that Keith started focusing more on himself. Even then, he put everyone else before him. He distanced himself from the team so that Shiro could pilot Black again, and he was constantly risking his life for the Blades.

Lance just... isn't the type. He has put others before himself, but he expect things out of it. He expects a parade and acknowledgement. Nobody knew what Shiro went through to rid Zarkon of his connection to the Black Lion. Nobody knew what Shiro went through in his imprisonment because he doesn't want to burden anyone with that. Nobody knew what Keith went through to save Black and Shiro from Zarkon. Nobody knew what Keith went through when they were all mad at him for missing an attack. Lance doesn't withold that sort of stuff. The only thing he doesn't talk about is his insecurities, which he ends up spilling to the mice and Laika (the Yupper) anyway.

6 - Last one. Promise.

Nothing fucking happened. While Keith was gone, nothing of importance happened surrounding Voltron specifically. There was the Lion mind meld and Lotor joining, but all that served to prove was, with the mind meld, if Keith was there, he would have heard Shiro. And with Lotor joining, all it proved was how immature Lance was.

The second Keith gets back, things start happening again. Lotor gets outed as cruel and manipulative (still an ass-pull, by the way), Shiro gets outed as a clone, and so on. If Lance was leading, they all probably would have died ages ago. I'm talking Season 3 Episode 2, ages ago. Because Lance just isn't cut out for it.

So. Yeah. Those are the main reasons I hate Lance and why Black Paladin Lance is an awful idea. Screw the people who believe in it. It is awful.

Like I said, this won't affect my treatment of Lance in my rewrite, because I can fix those issues that come up. I don't have an issue with Season 1 Lance, it's later on that gets problematic. I just hate people building Lance up by bashing all the other characters, then claiming that Lance is the most traumatised, sad character when SHIRO AND KEITH ARE RIGHT THERE. NOT TO MENTION ALLURA, WHO LOST HER ENTIRE SPECIES, AND CORAN WHO LOST EVERYONE INCLUDING ALLURA AND NEVER GOT TO SAY GOODBYE TO HER.

Fuck. I hate Voltron so much but I can't help but love it.

[barrenclan]

Not sure if you know about The Exlied by Katterpies, but I want to hear your opinion on 3 Mama's boys: (WARNING: long)

Rainhaze, Rockfall, and Fallenscar

You already know about Rain, he's,,,, like yours,,,, BUT I can't help but feel like Rockfall and Fallenscar are different degrees of Rain? #mommyissues gang

(not)quick review of each lad

Rockfall: Half-clanned, protag's littermate (Fishwhisker) to an asshole of a mother (and a deadbeat dad) but despite that Rock still hangs out with her? He's never verbally against or for her actions and just cowards or looks away when she speaks. He does everything she says and lets himself be baby-ed by her, maybe out of fear (of her or his clanmates) or familiarity. Protag calls him out on his bullshit after he ask her to help "HIS MOM." Rock tries to say something but doesn't fight and just walks away. From his friendliness to his clanmates, Rock seems well-liked if not a bit of a baby. So....I guess if his plan was to be a pushover so people would like him, it worked. But his sister him and he still helps his mother, even after she disses her own daughter for not being a warrior. Rock is a good guy, but in the hopes to be liked, whether by his mother or clanmates, he becomes an cowardly asshole.

Fallenscar: Fallen is a different kind mama's boy. Fallen's relationship reminds me of Dustfeather to Rainhaze. I don't think Fallenscar's mother (Crowstar) was a bad mother, Fallen seems like a good guy. Crow is a war criminal and a bloodthirsty killer, while she says she doesn't like killing children, she'll 100% kill everyone else. Despite the murder, Crow made sure he'd be taught to the clan's most pacifist and well-respected cat (Cloverfall), Fallen grew up to be a kind and caring cat, if not a bit spinless. He had Crow who loves him so much she made him deputy (maybe because it's hard to kill people in power), Whisperleaf his paternal uncle who loved him despite his hate for Crow, and Cloverfall, a sister figure and his former mentor. Crow could have easily pushed Clover and Whisper away and kept Fallen for himself, but she let him (maybe made him), be ANYTHING but her. This brings us to the big reveal, that Fallen knows TO SOME EXTENT what Crow has done. It's probably skewed but instead of being against the killing of others, Fallen blames Crow's former leader, Autumstar, for all the trouble with the other clans (there was a long-ass war btw). This ignores the fact that Crow is heavily disliked for killing old clanmates for trying to stop her from more killing, possibly continued the war after Autumstar's death, albeit briefly, Crowstar killing the leader of the other clan with no remorse, and later manmining Rockfall's mother. Like dude. Fallen was alive for 3 of these events and still loves his mother. I don't think he's stupid enough to say 'mommy did nothing wrong' but it's crazy and INESTERING AS HELL I LOVE IT IT'S SO FROSTPAW AND CURLFEATHER.

In conclusion,,, I just wanted to talk to you about this 'Mama's boy' trend and tell you I LOVE complex grey people giving birth to nice kids only for them to become complex grey people because they love their parent. I love Rainhaze and he's just as grey as Fallen and Rock FOR COMPLETELY DIFFERENT REASONS. bro i love both PATFW and TE I'm so mad for them thank you for making it I'm just so hyped

@the-exiled-comic GET OVER HERE KATTI THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT YOUR GUYS!!

I love these in-depth analyses on Rockfall and Fallenscar. :D Well written! Sandywing and Dustfeather definitely share a lot of parallels, and I can see Rockfall and Rainhaze interactions proceeding very simiarly to each other. It's a fun type of character to write!

[alaskan-wallflower]

What are your favorite ponyboy hcs

there are a few!

i love thinking darry is called darry because pony couldn’t say darrel lmfao-also his first full word being soda is kinda cute because i headcanon soda did NOT fw ponyboy as a kid (he was more mad ponyboy wasn’t an actual pony than the fact he had a brother) and he’d just be so mean to baby pony like pushing him down n shit 😭 but pony’s first word was def soda and soda will remind him of this DAILY.

“pony you remember when you first said my name”

*sigh*

pony is a chronic eye roller, he does not have a poker face. if someone says something stupid he’s literally rolling his eyes SO hard-he rolled his eyes at the teacher once because she was spewing some bullshit and he got detention lmfao-he rolls his eyes at darry a lot and it drives him nuts. he’d get told a lot as a kid ‘if you keep doing that your eyes are gonna get stuck that way’

pony had a speech impediment as a kid and as a result he tended to act out because he was frustrated he couldn’t talk and communicate to his parents about what he wanted. darry was the only one who could understand him and would calmly try to calm pony down and darry actually helped pony get rid of said impediment.

pony’s eyes are bigger than his stomach like he’ll order a truckload of food and be full after two bites. either that or pony has one hell of an appetite and darry.soda CANNOT keep up with it no matter how hard he tries

he has an anxious tummy :( when he’s really stressed his stomach will start gurgling and if it’s really bad he’ll get hiccups-it always happens when he’s taking a test and he gets so embarrassed because he just feels like everyone is looking at him-one time a teacher yelled at him for ‘being a distraction’ and he never wanted to go back to school after that

post book pony goes through a humongous growth spurt. he ends up being one or two inches taller than darry and he’s so smug about it and makes comments like ‘awwww who’s the little brother now?” and it pisses the gang off sometimes lmao

pony knows guitar because his mom taught him. he plays when he’s stressed. darry knows piano and they teach each other how to play their respective instruments. it’s a great time for both of them.

pony gets super into songwriting too-i head anon his mom taught him to sing at a young age and he just never stopped? he had to join choir in middle school for whatever reason and while he hated it at first he grew to love it a lot and he just feels free there. and when he’s stressed he tends to vent his emotions via poetry or drawing, so when he’s writing a poem he’ll put a beat to it sometimes. he’s played for his brothers and has made darry cry with a song dedicated to him (he would rather die than tell dallas though because he’s scared dallas won’t find him tuff anymore)

he’s big into greaser talk. the only time he won’t use “greaser slang” is when he’s trying to impress someone

pony is a very skilled artist. he’s drawn for johnny a lot.

he LOVES strawberries. his favourite dessert is strawberry shortcake but he only gets that for his birthday

(bumping off that) paul’s family owned a strawberry farm that pony used to sneak into to nab their berries. darry could talk pony out of trouble but was never happy about it. after paul and darry had their falling out pony snuck into their farm and had eaten every last berry on that farm and darry was so proud (and concerned and a bit mad because god forbid they pressed charges but pony reminds darry he could tell the cops about paul’s prank and blackmail him so that’s what they do lmao)

his eyes are more green than he’d care to admit. they’re still green grey but with an emphasis on green

i like interfaith curtis bros headcanons…so i feel like they were brought up with both jewish and christian traditions that darry tries to carry on

he knocked both his front teeth out at once by swinging from a tire swing at two bits house and slamming his face into a tree. he didn’t cry or anything though he just laughed it off. he swallowed the teeth though and was terrified the tooth fairy was gonna go into his stomach to get them out (based on true events)

he quits smoking because he can’t stand to think about how he may have indirectly killed johnny but also seeing how worried darry and soda were he couldn’t do that to them. it wasn’t a cold turkey process but it was successful

started smoking around thirteen years old and just never stopped til post book

he hates his hair ungreased but it’s the most beautiful fluffy mop of auburn hair ever

he’s not scared of spiders. hell straight up pick it up and put it outside. but he is afraid of moths and butterflies.

he’s a true carnivore. bro hates vegetables (darry had to get him vitamins instead)

let him ramble about his books. he will ramble for hours

him and cherry have a brother/sister relationship post book and she’ll go to his track meets sometimes along with darry and soda-they all get pretty close tbh

cherry takes pony to expensive cafés sometimes to help him study or just so the two can gossip

pony is a gossip KING like do not cross him

he comes up with really creative insults. half of them are stolen from johnny

he’s bisexual with a teeny preference for girls

he loves greek myths and compares darry to Hephaestus a lot

great expectations is a comfort book for him. if he’s sad he’ll read it in one sitting and enjoys it just as much as he did the first time he read it

he gets bad allergies in the spring and fall :(

him and darry work out together and bond over that just like they bonded over being in sports

he talks to himself when he reads

this wa s’more curtis bros than pony i’m sorry 😭 but hope these are good!

[munsonology]

Officially got my first hate anon! I like that I’m a safe place for many people here, and known for being kind because I am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take you to the library! And guess what you dumb bitch, I was doing laundry and I HAVE TIME

First of all you fucking loser ya mama must’ve been cleaning with bleach and ammonia because of how stupid you sound, and if you’re this fuckin dumb she should’ve aborted your cretin ass.

The fact that you sent the same shit to multiple people just proves you know how to copy and paste. You’re a pussy. You say this shit on anon like it gives you some power when the gag is you’re a fucking loser who has nothing else going on than tumblr bullshit and since you have nothing going on on there too you wanna start bullshit. Newsflash! I’m not the fuckin 1 or the 2. I reported you to tumblr for perpetuating hate of protected categories ya dumb fuck.

Now let’s unpack some of these ‘claims’ you think you made.

1. I’ve never stolen shit. Everything I’ve posted has been an original thought from MY mind, something you seem to lack. I don’t need to steal shit from anybody.

2. Obviously you must be a fan since you’re able to identify such ‘claims’ (fake news btw)

3. I’m not gay, if you hadn’t noticed how much I talk about DICK AND BALLS. Shout out to all the lesbians and those who do refer to themselves as dykes! You make the world go round ❤️

4. Ugly I am not, in fact it must make your blood boil at how I’m NOT fucking ugly. I have big titties and a fat ass, I don’t need to offer Joesph Quinn $1 million to look my way because he’d look my way for free

5. I’m not confused about my sexuality, I like dick

6. Everybody you named are just a handful of the sweetest people I’ve met online, who have all been burned by bigger writers for one reason or another. Nobody has made a clique, it’s called friendships of which you have none. I’m friends with many people here, many who to my surprise hate each other, but I manage to safely and lovingly interact with most, and you will NOT destroy the bubble I’ve built, especially when it comes to my beautiful and lovely anons (of which you are not and never will be)

7. This wasn’t in your manifesto but I’m going to assume you’re another writer as well because let’s face it, there’s no way you’re not, not with being this chronically online.

8. Idk who tf you’re mad at but it ain’t us beloved

9. Fuck you

10. You gonna end up eating cement running your mouth like this, because if you do this shit irl…idk get ya casket ready or somethin

Dumb cunt 💀

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Bitch, you just tried to strangle your daughter. What maternal instinct?

And the only reason you took your son when you abandoned her was because you thought you could get more money for him.

***

OH MY GOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDD 🤬🤬

THIS REPULSIVE PETTY PIECE OF SHIT WASTE OF AIR!!

Seriously, I despise him more than Manniang!

My guy, quit while you're ahead! You lost the girl because you were spineless. Get over it and stop embarrassing yourself! 🤬🤬

***

LMAO, what else is he supposed to do?

Let's say it's been four or five years since Manniang ran off. This child was two at most at the time. He would be six or seven now. What are you talking about? That is still a whole baby!

I love (and by love, I mean hate) how disposable children are in this society unless they are sons anchoring their mother's position in their respective households.

***

Oh, shut the fuck up, you bitter, pathetic loser.

***

Drag him, Tingye!

I am so sick and tired of his bullshit.

***

NOOOO, BUT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND, HE IS THE MAIN CHARACTER OF THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE!

OF COURSE, MINGLAN WAS SUPPOSED TO WAIT UNTIL RETIREMENT FOR HIM TO GET HIS SHIT TOGETHER AND SUFFER ALL KINDS OF INDIGNITIES IN THE MEANTIME!

HOW DARE SHE NOT BUILD A SHRINE TO HIS ESTEEMED PERSON AND PUT HER ENTIRE LIFE ON HOLD SO THAT HE CAN FEEL IMPORTANT?

With all that said, this actor is beyond fantastic, I can see why people are obsessed with him. I hope to watch him in a more sympathetic role next time.

***

LMAO, look at the pot calling the kettle black 🤣🤣

I cannot with this loser of a man.

***

If he had not been born rich, he would have been the founding father of the incel movement, blaming every man with even a semblance of a spine on his inability to fuck.

***

Oh, sure, it was for the government 🙄🙄

Your jealousy is palpable. You can't even convince yourself.

***

LMAO, what the fuck.

This is a dead child you're talking about! Your child! And you are mad you cannot get money and status because of him?

***

She's right, though, she did make the biggest fool out of him.

***

Good for you for slapping her, Minglan!

I've been waiting for someone to do it for ages now.

In fact, so many people in this drama deserve slapping. It's about time you got started on that.

***

Aww, he found his dead baby 😢

***

Wait, that's all?

THAT'S ALL??

WE DO NOT EVEN GET A BEHEADING 😭😭

Not only does her sorry ass not get punished in any way, he will continue to provide for her for the rest of her life. Sure, she will not be living in a manor in luxury as his wife, but she will have a roof over he head and food to eat, plus he will have to employ people in the middle of nowhere to make sure she doesn't go causing trouble again.

She should be in prison instead. Or in some hard labour colony, which I'm sure there are plenty of in Song Dynasty China. OR BEHEADED!!

And what about his maternal Bai relatives? Do they at least get arrested/exiled/beheaded? They have been REPEATEDLY trying to kill him for YEARS!

I am very disappointed with this resolution.

***

Well, I am glad this is over.

Honestly, as far as I am concerned, this whole Manniang subplot has been a huge blight on this otherwise excellent show and a black stain on Gu Tingye as a character. Big thanks to @ruizhi for filling me in on the details from the novel so that I can understand the writing decisions here better. Obviously, I realise that I am in the minority for disliking these decisions (and Gu Tingye as a character) because from what I have seen, he is a firm favourite among the people who watched this drama and everyone is on board with this sanitised version of his character arc.

I have to be honest, if they had kept his harem from the novel, I probably would not have touched this with a ten-foot pole, because I freely admit that I watch c-dramas for the pretty people and idealised romance. I also know that this would have made Gu Tingye more realistic and thus harder to project on, which is ironic because my complaints here are the lack of realism and easy ways out since they decided to include his other women in the drama too. Harem stories depress and infuriate me and I do not watch them unless there are very compelling reasons for me to pick them up, so out of a couple of hundred dramas on my to-watch list, this one would probably not have made it to the top if it had been closer to the source material.

Even as it is, all this is precisely why I put off watching Minglan for the longest time. I knew it had polygamy at its core and this made me disinclined to start it, even though it was warmly recommended by many people in whose good taste I trust. I eventually only started watching because a c-drama friend of mine told me that there is no harem here and that Minglan and Tingye were monogamous and ride-or-die for each other, so Manniang showing up early on was an extremely nasty surprise.

With that said, now that I am here already and very invested in this story, I've long since come to terms with the fact that romance is not the main focus of this show and adjusted my expectations. I am really enjoying it for what it is, which is a family drama focused on women's struggle and suffering in this hell system that they must learn to navigate or die destitute, which is why I am especially irked by this cheap trickery they are employing to make Gu Tingye's and Minglan's relationship more "clean" than it actually is. You cannot have it both ways. Either these characters are realistic people of their time or they are not. Either you are sticking to the book version of them in the adaptation or you are not. But these cake-eating writers (as in wanting their cake and eating it too) definitely tried to get away with both and ended up with huge inconsistencies in their story that irritated me enough to sit down and write this entire screed.

Like I said in my comments on my previous Minglan post, this is the exact thing that made TTEOTM unwatchable for me and landed it on the list of the worst dramas I ever subjected myself to, despite my unceasing obsession with Luo Yunxi. Obviously, I am feeling this on a lesser level with Gu Tingye, because overall, the writing of Minglan committed fewer crimes than TTEOM and remains solid on all other fronts, so I am still invested in the story overall, him as a character and him and Minglan as a couple, but the writers here are just as much cake eaters as the writers on TTEOTM. They looked at this bad boy who worked for a story in another medium precisely because he was morally compromised in some way, wanted that for themselves, but then could not or would not follow through, either because they feared they would alienate a big portion of their audience, or because the Chinese censorship board wouldn't let them get away with it. Then they did this ridiculous thing where they tried going, "Yeah, he's bad, but he's not really! He was set up! It was a misunderstanding!" And ended up blowing a giant hole in their whole story.

If they didn't want to explore Gu Tingye as a man of his time making the same selfish decisions as other men of that time, then they should not have had him acting like one. They should have had a logical and consistent reason why he didn't keep mistresses and concubines (such as, idk, seeing his mother suffer or something) and not introduce Manniang in the first place. What was the point of her in the plotline if we were not going to see him and Minglan make the hard decisions, either to treat his illegitimate offspring as lower-class citizens so that her biological kids could be afforded all the privileges of their rank (which would obviously not sit right with the modern audience), or go with the modern moral code that the show wants them to have and deny Minglan's bio kids by treating all the children equally (which could have been done legally if Minglan was to adopt them, but of course, she was never going to do that)? If you never intended to go there, then why bring in Manniang and her kids in the first place?

In my opinion, if they wanted Gu Tingye untarnished in this way and his love with Minglan unburdened with the baggage of other women and stepkids, they should never have kept Manniang in the adaptation. Once they brought her in, there was no stuffing that genie back into the bottle. The shadow of book!Tingye has been around since the adult actors took over and it is not even the non-monogamy that is an issue for me now, but the character inconsistency and the extremely cheap sleight of hand that they pulled in an attempt to smooth it over.

Here is the thing. Every time I start on a story, be it a book, movie, drama, or whatever, there is a certain premise that it promises to fulfil, which comes with the expectations and limitations of the genre. I adjust my standards accordingly, so if I sit down to watch a fluffy romcom with a young, naive intern falling in love with the son of CEO, then I will judge it on how funny it is and whether the main couple is hot enough and has enough chemistry to keep me invested till the end. I am not going to be particularly worried about the power imbalance and the IRL implications of such a setup, my main concern will be if the main couple look like they are having good enough sex and if I can shoehorn my own escapist fantasy into that dynamic. However, if I start a show that deals with misogyny, patriarchy and sexual harassment of women in the workplace, then you cannot dump the privileged son of the CEO into a relationship with the main heroine and expect me to root for it, unless he is right there beside her, taking his father to court for abuse of power and dismantling the system from within. This is, IMO, what this drama failed to do with Gu Tingye. You cannot promise me a Xiao Qi and deliver a Sheng Hong with the serial numbers filed off.

Based on what I've heard and read about the original novel, book!Tingye is not that much better than Sheng Hong. He had multiple women and illegitimate children that he was playing favourites with based on their birth and rank. He sabotaged his older son and indirectly caused his death so that Minglan's children would not have competition. His daughter by Manniang was just as traumatised as Minglan. He had concubines, who were also technically wives with no way out of a hell marriage, whom he then discarded when it was convenient for him. The only reason this marriage was a victory for Minglan is that she was now the favoured wife with the highest rank, thus her circumstances in life dramatically improved. I understand why they didn't want to portray this to a wider audience, and that doing so would have seriously dented Feng Shaofeng's reputation as a heartthrob in the c-ent industry, but then they shouldn't have opened that can of worms to begin with.

I feel like they should have cut the Manniang storyline completely if they weren't going to do it properly, or, idk, had her go off the deep end much earlier and kill her kids off before he got with Minglan. That could have been used as a catalyst for his change, having him go, "That's it! No more mistresses and concubines for me!" Then we could have seen the rest of it play out as it did (minus Manniang) with a REASON, with his family pressuring him to take in a wife and concubines, him saying no, then falling in love with Minglan and moving on from there naturally and giving us a clean, idealised romance that is not typical for their time.

However, once they brought in Manniang but did not bring in all the nasty stuff implied with him having a kept woman and illegitimate children, they shot themselves in the foot because now Gu Tingye's character was in conflict with the story's internal logic. We have seen how this world functions, we have seen how concubines and the children of concubines are treated. Naturally, once they introduced Manniang and her kids (but especially her son), we were expecting to see exactly what happened in the novel, because this is the premise of the story and the laws by which the world it is set in is governed. The fact that this didn't happen did not make me sigh in relief and think of Gu Tingye as a good guy, it made me question why the story never went there. The cowardly shortcuts out of this predicament and the cheap trickery the writers used to avoid it made me feel like the story was "lying" to me, which is maybe a ridiculous word to use because this whole thing is fiction and therefore a lie. But I could no longer suspend my disbelief, immerse myself in the narrative and root for these characters. Suddenly, they felt fake.

Also, I feel downright insulted by these writing choices.

"Yeah, Gu Tingye had another woman but that's OK because she was actually evil so she doesn't count and he was right to abandon her and have his true romance with Minglan! 😀"

"Yeah, he had a son that he would have had to have been grossly unfair to or not have Minglan's kids get the full extent of their privilege of rank, but that's OK, because the kid just conveniently died! 😀"

"Yeah, his daughter should be traumatised in a hundred different ways from having such a biological mother and dealing with the inferiority complex from growing up right next to Minglan's legitimate children and knowing that in the eyes of society and her own father, she is lesser than them, but don't worry, that's OK, because we are making her suuuuuuuper well adjusted! 😀"

"Yeah, if Chang'er had lived, the audience would have been forced to confront the fact that Gu Tingye was very much a man of his time and that Minglan was also no benevolent saint and that they would have treated children that are not biologically hers as second-class citizens, just like Sheng Hong and Wang Ruofu did in the Sheng household! But that's OK, we'll just kill his illegitimate firstborn son so that you don't have to think about that! 😀"

As a character, Gu Tingye feels so disingenuous because of these shortcuts the writers took to scapegoat Manniang and absolve him of the consequences of being just like the other men in this drama. Would he have been an idealised c-drama hero that girls could pin their fantasies on if they had kept his novel characterisation? Absolutely not. They made him more attractive and palatable to a wider, modern, likely younger-leaning audience at the cost of the story's internal logic, plot coherency and character consistency, and that, for me, is a much bigger writing crime than him having a harem and treating his illegitimate children as lesser-than.

Again, this is an adaptation and nobody put a gun to their heads and forced them to include Manniang. If they had wanted Gu Tingye untarnished and idealised, they should have handled her differently. They cannot have it both ways.

With that said, I realise that I am in the minority here because most viewers were obviously very happy to let this slide (just like they were with TTEOTM). Again, most viewers will not agree with me on Gu Tingye because he is obviously a favourite ML for many, but for me personally, the overall drama loses lots of points on him, especially because of Manniang.

In any case, there are still more than twenty episodes left here for me, so onwards and forward to better plot points and character arcs! 😅

[the-guilty-writer]

We're All Mad Here

Request from @twwobsessed: Hi I love your writings sm🫶🏻 platonic love and care and comfort is amazing 🥰 Could I request something with Hotch as father figure to a bau reader where he provides a safe place for her to be vulnerable and realize it’s okay to lean on others around her when she’s struggling with her mental health?

Aaron Hotchner x platonic!BAU!reader

Summary: Everyone at the BAU has their days. Hotch lets you know it's okay not to be okay.

A/N: I am, once again, lacking in creative flow at the moment. Title and final line are Alice in Wonderland references because I'm hoping someone will catch onto all the weird little metaphors and things I put into my writing one day and appreciate them like I do

CW: nothing super heavy tbh other than pointing out that everyone who works for the BAU is truamatized, reader hasn't eaten dinner and opts for tea instead.

---

You were almost certain that it was Aaron Hotchner’s goal to put together the most unhinged, secretly mentally insane team in the bureau. So certain, in fact, that you would put money on it if someone asked.

At times thought it was the only reason why he hired you; your mandatory psychological evaluations showed someone extremely well-adjusted, or rather someone who knew what others wanted to hear. Your best guess was that he had seen straight through the bullshit on your file and smiled to himself… another misfit to add to his collection.

But that didn’t mean he was wrong about it. The team had the highest rate of solved cases in the country and was considered one of the most elite units in the FBI. “The best profilers, sometimes, are the unsubs themselves,” Rossi had said to you during your first month on the team. All you could do was nod in response and subtly look around at the people you were surrounded by.

If that statement was true, it sure as hell made a lot of sense why you were all so good at your jobs.

There were times when someone on the team’s demons grew a little stronger, or their ghosts got a little louder. You’d already seen it happen with Morgan and Prentiss. JJ did a bit better hiding hers, but sometimes she fiddled with her necklace a little too much. Reid would repeat the words “I’m fine” a few too many times. Garcia would smile with her mouth, but not her eyes. There were days when Hotch’s firm expression faltered. Even Rossi had his moments.

The first time you’d fallen, Morgan warned you it was coming; the initial adrenaline of working the job wearing off, causing exhaustion to take over. “It hits most people around month nine,” he’d said. It didn’t hit you until month sixteen.

You picked yourself back up and since then, you’d been okay- learned to take care of yourself, to breathe, to be still. But life didn’t always make time for stillness, and you could feel yourself falling into the hole again. The demons at the bottom of the pit got more and more demanding, multiplying without ever feeding them a meal.

Or maybe it was just your stomach grumbling. You hadn’t eaten since your lunch break and it was nearly ten at night. Besides yourself, the bullpen was empty. To your knowledge, everyone had gone home hours ago. You should have too, but the more paperwork you finished the more quiet your head would be; the less people would notice how hungry your demons were.

“(Y/L/N),” Hotch’s voice caught your attention. You didn’t know he was still here- his office light was off, the door closed for the night. Yet, he stood just inside the glass doors of the BAU, looking a bit too much like a film noir character in the dim lights.

“Hey Hotch,” you greeted him like this was a usual encounter.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, walking softly towards your desk.

“I could ask you the same question,” you smirked, trying to evade further questioning.

“I had to be on call with the head of the LA field office,” he said as he moved to sit on the edge of your desk. “You should have gone home hours ago.”

You shrugged. “I wanted to get some paperwork done.” The casualness of your tone and the way you sat back in your chair would have been enough to fool anyone else into thinking you were okay. Too bad you worked with a bunch of profilers.

“You know,” Hotch started. “The call I just got off of in LA was because they were trying to start a unit there to lighten our caseload.”

“I- I didn’t know that.” You wondered if the team would ever take cases on the west coast again, or if life would slow down from here on out.

Hotch sighed. “They’ve been trying for the last three years, but they couldn’t keep a consistent unit. Too many agents were coming in and burning out. They’re terminating the project.”

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

“This job, it isn’t easy,” Hotch’s tone softened. “Every person on the team knows what it’s like to struggle. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and all of us are here to help.”

You looked down at your fidgeting hands in an effort to avoid Hotch’s gaze, but you could still feel him watching you. When you finally worked up the courage to look at him, your eyes were glassy with tears.

“I’ve been having a hard time recently,” you admitted, voice shuttering in an effort to contain tears. “Just feeling things a little more than usual.”

Hotch looked from you to his closed up office and back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You mimicked his action, glancing to the room. “How much time do you have?”

Hotch was about to reply when your stomach let out a long growl. You looked down, smiling sheepishly. Your boss chuckled a bit. “Maybe we should get you some food first?”

You sighed, knowing you had to put something in your body but not knowing if you'd be able to keep anything down with your anxiety. “I think I'll just have some tea.”

Hotch handed you the key to his office, a sign to go make yourself comfortable in the space while he prepared your drink. “It's always tea time.”

[hellaversity]

It really says something that the Helluva Boss fandom is willing to excuse every evil action Stella does and every evil thing she says, especially her abuse towards Stolas and begging for her to have sympathetic traits, yet not once have I ever seen an HB fan desperately wishing for Crimson or Mammon to be portrayed more sympathetically than they are in the show and call it bad writing when they don't show any redeeming qualities. The fandom just accepts the fact that those guys are pure evil without batting an eye. Nobody asks why they're the way they are. But Stella? Nope, there MUST be a sympathetic reason for her being an abusive bitch to Stolas because it's apparently "unrealistic" for a woman to abuse her husband out of spite never mind the fact that those kinds of women actually exist in real life.

These images pretty much speak for themselves.

Crimson, Striker, Mammon, Andrealphus and Valentino are no less two-dimensionally evil than Stella is. What reason did Crimson have to murder his own wife and make his son experience it? Just to traumatize him? The show never really says why he does it, he just does it so the audience can have a reason to hate him. What reason does Striker have to help Stella try to kill Stolas? None, as far as we know. What is there to Mammon's character other than abusing Fizzarolli and being a greedy asshole in general? Why does Andrealphus flirt with his own sister and participate in her scheme to have Stolas murdered by Striker? Because reasons. Why is Valentino a rapist who takes advantage of Angel Dust and sexually abuses him? Just because he can. What makes Stella any different from these guys other than being female?

Fans are just asking for her to be more sympathetic because she's a woman and they can't accept the fact that women are capable of abuse without trying to justify it. The whole "behind every bad bitch is a man who made her that way" bullshit. People who see a woman beating her husband in public and automatically assume he did something to deserve it even if they have no evidence or context for what actually happened. Even though Stella has been treating Stolas like shit before he cheated on her, and he likely wouldn't be sleeping with Blitzø if she wasn't so horrible to him in the first place. He never even puts his hands on her and allowed her to abuse him so that Octavia could live and grow up with normal parents. (As normal as Stella and Stolas could possibly get with each other, anyway.)

Stella made fun of Stolas for not participating in sex with her and laughed about it while he was standing 2 feet away from her, and knew he was there. Whether or not she raped him to produce Octavia is a discussion for another day. If anything, Stolas cheating on her was revenge for treating him like garbage for so many years. She humiliated and embarassed him in public before getting a taste of her own medicine when Stolas does the same to her in return. She wouldn't even let him divorce her because she enjoys being mean to him. I wouldn't mind if Stella was given more charaterization outside of "abusive wife" but honestly? I don't really care if she's given sympathy or not. I don't want to sympathize with her. If Valentino isn't gonna change his ways any time soon, I have no reason to believe that Stella can. FFS Stella apologists make me mad. Even if you type in the "anti stella" tag on tumblr there are more posts defending and excusing her actions than those actually opposing her and saying "uh, no, she's just a cruel bitch" meanwhile if you type "anti Stolas" that's exactly what you're gonna get, pretty much exclusively.

Goes to show how hyper-sensitive tumblrinas are over female characters rightfully being portrayed as in the wrong when they fucking are.

[duhragonball]

So now that you've finished the Eva TV series, is there any character in the cast who you'd call a favorite?

Misato Katsuragi, easily.

It took me a while to realize it, but in a cast full of traumatized children, amoral scientists, and big-rigged mahoneys, she's the only one who really feels like a hero in an sci-fi adventure story. She supports her team, taking charge and boosting morale wherever she can. She never despairs in the face of danger. She takes responsibility for the kids when no one else will, and she doesn't just shrug and accept NERV's bullshit as a "necessary evil".

Oh, and she's constantly struggling to find out what the hell is going on in this show. She asks questions, gets answers, and follows up on Kaji's investigation after he dies. It's not clear that she was looking to betray NERV; she just wanted to know all the facts so that she could do the right thing as effectively as possible.

I think the only negative for the character is this fan theory I found on one of the wikis that suggests she was going to have sex with Shinji to console him after the apparent death of Rei in Episode 23, which I find ridiculous. The reasoning seems to be based on the way Misato is regarded as some sort of nymphomaniac, and so that's her default way of dealing with loneliness and grief, and... no, that's stupid.

Both endings of NGE seem determined to assert that Misato is some sort of sex addict, and that this is a terrible character flaw. Meanwhile, the only person we know she's had sex with is Kaji. They dated in 2007, and then they got back together over the course of the show. I despise Kaji and his punchable face, but I don't think having sex with him is some sort of crime. It's not like she was cheating on someone else while she was doing it.

Evangelion seems determined to demonize Misato for being too sexy, which is pretty rich considering she seems pretty monogamous and professional throughout. Meanwhile, the rest of Evangelion seems obsessed with the idea of putting teenagers in suggestive poses and minimal clothing.

For a time, I considered using this ask to make a whole list of characters I liked, but no, Misato is too far ahead of the others to bother with runners-up. I can appreciate Shinji, Asuka, and Rei as protagonists, but they're so friggin' childish that it gets on my nerves. You can't even get that mad at them, because they're children.

I liked Ritsuko, but her character arc is almost nonexistent. She mostly typed a lot and ran tests, and then she finally got pushed too far and turned on Gendo and... it didn't really affect anything.

Gendo Ikari is pretty fascinating, and I suspect he may be the model of this trend I've seen in American comic books, where fans and writers act like Batman, Professor X, and Mister Fantastic are actually ruthless, manipulative monsters instead of well-meaning hero types. Blame it on pop culture's intolerance for nuance, but I suspect that Evangelion came along and people started to try to fit their favorite characters into Gendo-shaped holes. It's refreshing to see the real thing, though. But he's still kind of a dick.

The unseen gunman who murdered Kaji is pretty cool, I suppose.

[linuseer]

i'd made a reblog of another post but i might as well make my own because it's truly bizarre the way the internet still behaves

the internet's reaction to john mulaney will be found in psychology books in future years.

this got long. my bad.

tldr: yall have been weird about john mulaney for a long while. yes, even about the dave chappelle thing.

"but he let dave chappelle on stage-" the venue let dave chappelle on stage. Because despite all the bullshit he's been saying venues and platforms still think he's a big name, so if he decides to pop up and drop in, they're going to let him regardless of openers already being there. It's insane how people think john mulaney could dictate what a big venue (and netflix, as i think it was during an event) can and can't do around him.

"but dave chappelle based all his set on transphobic and ableist things-" that's on dave chappelle, not any other comedian who has to share the stage with him. let's repeat this again: john mulaney did not "platform" chappelle, the venue did. john mulaney can't go around dictating what other comedians say the same way other comedians can't dictate what he says, just like it is in any other profession and general aspect of society.

"but he hugged chappelle at the end-" chappelle had talked about an aggression he'd been a victim of in the previous months and john mulaney expressed solidarity for that. Like the testimony of the transphobic and ableist jokes, this was said by other people on the internet that claim to have been present. It's impressive how fast any other recounting has been shut down and ignored, like any possibility of further critical analysis of the situation. I'm not cis myself. I could smell the "something's weirdly missing" from miles away, because when he went to rehab I thought back about all his jokes involving drugs and thought "yeah this checks out", when people started calling him transphobic i thought "this guy?? Horse Loose In A Hospital guy?? I gotta check".

(other testimonies also said the transphobic and ableist jokes were a part of the appearance, not all of it, and that other jokes did get a laugh. Which yes, it is annoying to hear people reward a comedian with laughter after he's been a dick and I would've been mad the whole time too)

"well he shouldn't go around hugging transphobes" on an abstract moral basis, I agree. I'd rather he stick to hugging people like jon stewart.

"he betrayed his lgbt+ fanbase that is the reason he's famous" no it isn't. I find no righteous joy in telling yall that john mulaney is known and respected and gets gigs in the comedy scene because he's good at it on his own from content and technique standpoints, and people recognized his talent and future fame from the start, not because the community made him famous by latching on to him as the Cute Unproblematic White Twink. Him becoming famous would've happened anyway because he's objectively good at his chosen career. Also "betrayed" is objectively wrong because of the previous points mentioned above.

Also let's remember the time period this happened in: john mulaney was recovering from nearly killing himself with drugs, dealing with the fact his friends had to push him into rehab, ending a years-long relationship (where he did not cheat according to the ex herself if yall bother listening to her), finding himself a parent of a clearly unplanned baby and stepping up to it, while facing vitriol and crazy backlash because of it all. I wouldn't take anyone too seriously in the aftermath of this.

yeah while we're here, let's also address the whole divorce fiasco:

"he cheated" no he didn't. The timeline provided and that can be proven by social media interactions and talk show appearances says so. They were separated well before they both went to rehab for different things. She wasn't at the december 2020 intervention, at least. She removed hims from her socials months before. They weren't involved anymore, let it go.

"he never wanted kids" so? people change as he himself says. Or was he meant to be a deadbeat and ignore the baby that was clearly unplanned? It's insane how people are holding this against him.

"he robbed tendler of her childbearing years" this is even more insane. She has repeatedly said she didn't want kids herself, and froze her eggs because of feeling socially pressured, at least twice in instagram comments only. She's got a new boyfriend and can have all the kids she wants with him. But people don't actually care about her as a person, only as her being a means for their weird revenge fantasies against a comedian they thought they knew through a stage persona. Just take a look at the unhinged comments people have been leaving under everyone's social media posts including hers.

"he based his whole shtick on being a wife guy (so i now feel betrayed that they have divorced because ??? but pretend i'm righteously offended as He Has Lied On Stage)" equally insane things to say. Also no, the wife bits make up not even a fourth of his overall material, but one wouldn't know that if they only saw his stuff through memes and the netflix specials.

"well i'm childfree and liked he was also childfree and now i'm disappointed" now this is reasonable. I was weirdly disappointed for a while too and then got over it. Because it's one of the things in life you have to shrug off, because other people can choose to keep children and raise them with an obviously present support net and it's none of our business.

Here's some more things for yall to chew on: john mulaney has expressed support for trans kids being targeted in schools, during the initial monologue when he hosted the Independent Spirit Awards with nick kroll (they did it two years in a row and i can't remember which year it was). john mulaney has also previously supported lgbt+ charities with donations some years ago (i don't remember the name but i remember being happy about confirmation that a comedian i liked was a good person). john mulaney hasn't said or done anything negative towards trans people and lgbt+ in general since the "incident", nor did he ever before. Also he striked with the other writers to support the less famous and wealthy ones.

"but he had jerry seinfield on." Netflix had jerry seinfield on. Because seinfield just made a show with netflix too and he's being made to promote it. Also yes, by several accounts john mulaney looks up to jerry seinfield, in the same way i might look up at a senior in high school when I'm a freshman. Doesn't mean he agrees with him on everything and doesn't mean they both can skirt the obligations of the industry they're in.

Yall want something nice to chew on? When john mulaney went on seinfield's show "comedians in cars getting coffee", seinfield demeaned annamarie tendler's professional abilities and john mulaney immediately and repeatedly contradicted him. "She doesn't know what she's talking about, all women think they're interior designers" vs "Actually she does know what she's talking about" kinda exchange. Seinfield also made a joke about her throwing a rolling pin at john, and john mulaney deemed it a dumb 1950s stereotype.

look, is he perfect? no. he has moments where he lacks some social awareness, because he was born and raised wealthy, but he's never been cruel or obnoxious about it and instead recognizes it every time he mentions (and disparages) his upbringing. it could be seen even before baby j that he grew up insecure of himself, through and under the obvious jokes about anxiety and servility, and he can be an asshole about it (though less now, i suppose thanks to near-death experiences and having a child readjust your whole life). it's the fact that the internet decided to put him on a pedestal as a paragon of neat cuteness, reducing his work to Wife Guy Blorbo and seemingly ignoring all the "hey i've been an alcohol and drug addict willing to commit crimes to get drugs and i'm putting up an extremely clean-cut persona that should have you all worried and suspicious". I used to look at that guy and sense the something that wasn't adding up. I've been observing this whole mess since he first went to rehab with a sense of relief. Parasocial of me, yes I know.

one day the internet will add up the pieces. hopefully. until that day, it's gonna be weird.