#girls (me) consuming any media: this too is rebecca.

[widowshill]

– You mean you -- – You promised I could tell you the whole story.

dark shadows 101 / sylvia plath, "in the mountains," johnny panic & the bible of dreams / dark shadows 102 / rebecca 1940

[fairene]

one of your girls / ln4, part two

lando norrisxfem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

part one

a/n ⋯ I LIED IT'S COMING OUT NOW!!! i sat down for 'bout four hours after work and a family dinner to knock this the fuck OUTTTT. it's shorter than i expected, but this was the best way i could wrap up this supposed 'oneshot'. i hope you all enjoy it. and remember, it is up to YOU for what you are wearing, clothes are intentionally vaguely described for your own viewing pleasure. and tbh, i did not proof read this...don't sue me!!! I JUST WAnted it out asap for everyone@!!! pls don't let it flop!!!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, possession, jealousy.

wc ⋯ 13.7k (unedited!)

he hadn’t heard from you in weeks. weeks. it was driving him fucking insane. he didn’t know that the girl would come back, he didn’t know she would be a bitch, and he certainly didn’t know you would react that way. to his ultimate surprise, it was a comfort knowing that you did care. however sick and twisted it was, it told him without using your words, that you wanted something. 

things had been left unsaid between the pair of you for a long time. too long. he was never in the business of guessing your feelings, assuming that you felt one way or another about him. and neither were you. both of you were too fucking stubborn for your own good. neither of you could see what was right in front of you–

each other. 

and that was the worst part for lando. it had him pushing himself harder. faster. to be better to perhaps catch your attention. to win you back through his ability to race. but you didn’t care about that. you didn’t care about how fast he drove his car, didn’t care about the number of podiums he got. you cared about him. but you never let the words fall upon his ears, and that was your first mistake. 

it was the weekend in spain. warm, but not too humid, you traveled with alexandra and the rest of the ferrari hospitality team. you had gotten close to carlos’ girlfriend, rebecca, as well. they were both great company and more times than not, lando had slipped from your mind completely. 

but not for him. 

he was a mess. a wreck without you. guilt consumed him night and day, and he would feel eternally wrought with what could have been. he’s called you, texted you, even had oscar reach out to you, but there was nothing but radio silence and the bolded words ‘read’ beneath his sent messages. it hurt more knowing that you saw him suffering and did nothing about it. 

but he deserved it. he deserved this treatment. he wasn’t going to fight you. he would roll over, belly up like a good boy for you. pay attention to me, his actions would scream. look in my direction. but you didn’t even view his stories on social media anymore. didn’t even like his posts. 

the british driver would be found pacing back and forth, staring hunchback at his phone. oscar would watch him from across the room, legs dangling from the papaya barstool. he hated to see lando this way, but he knew what he did. lando was honest with oscar, hoping to maybe seek advice in his own girlfriend. but lily simply shrugged her shoulders and her expression said enough. 

you did this to yourself. 

but little did you know is that he threw that girl out the moment you left. okay, not literally, but in ever metaphoric way possible. he never contacted her again. he hadn’t contacted any girl, in fact, these past few weeks. he would be isolated with his PR team at every occasion, refusing to even entertain the thought of hitting up a new girl. 

his loyalty to you was suddenly unwavering, but it was too late. 

“mate,” oscar said from where he sat. lando didn’t look up, just hummed, staring at your last text to him. 

‘you’re too sweet,’ 

too sweet. what would you say now? you had replied to a set of merchandise he saved for you, special edition for miami’s grand prix, and that had been it. from you. he had to scroll down through the text chain to reach the bottom. his endless apologies, desperate words, and more apologies. he felt nauseous. sick that he ever treated you that way.

his favorite girl. his girl. 

“she’s here.” 

what? 

lando’s head snapped up, looking frantically around. but there was no sign of you. 

“with alexandra. ferrari paddock.” oscar gestured his phone towards lando. he snatched it from him, letting his eyes fly across the photo. it was a picture of you, rebecca, and alexandra. posted on alexandra’s instagram story. 

you looked…

happy. 

he…

he didn’t know why he was upset by that. he wanted you to feel the same level of anger, sadness, distress, even. but here you were– looking absolutely beautiful with your bright smile. so fucking beautiful. he remembers he was there when you picked out that top. and god, he was right, it’s meant for you. 

lando threw oscar’s phone back at him, and knew this would be a long fucking weekend. 

barcelona’s air had been clean. much cleaner than miami, new york. the decor of the paddock, too, had you thinking and trailing your fingers over the textures. you had done that more– feeling the things around you. you used to do that with lando. but now he was gone, and you had to suffice to other obscurities to lay your fingers upon. 

gone. the word echoed in the chasm of your mind. gone. you didn’t realize the depth of lando’s absence would impact you this much, but that had been a mistake on your part. clearly. an oversight of your intimate relationship. that, eventually, it would end. it would end in flames, crash and burn, and ultimately never recover. as much as you thought, anyways. 

you heard your name being called from the other side of the couch. you glanced up. 

rebecca stared at you expectedly. 

“sorry,” you breathed. “what did you say?” 

rebecca huffed, but repeated herself regardless. “i said that i have a friend with me i want you to meet.” you raised your brows quizzically. “i think you’ll like him.” 

him? him? oh, fuck, here we go. 

as much as you wanted  to breeze past what happened in lando’s monaco apartment, you couldn’t. your feelings, as heavy as they were, weighed you down into the abyss of lando norris’ wellbeing. 

you didn’t sleep with anyone since him. you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it didn’t feel right, and your own attempt at an orgasm was ultimately futile. 

but you said nothing when rebecca turned, pulling a man from conversation with carlos. he looked confused, but let his eyes settle on you. he relaxed. 

he was a handsome chap. dark hair, dark eyes. tanned skin. fit. he had a grecian nose, one that was slim and curved. not like lando’s, you thought, but brought yourself down to earth and stood. you greeted him with two kisses on the cheek, and his name was raphael. 

“so you are…” his spanish accent was thick and attractive. you couldn’t deny that. “friends with rebecca?”

“that’s right.” you nodded, bringing a bottle of water to your lips to cool down. “you, as well?” 

he shrugged, giving you a ‘so-so’ hand gesture. “carlos, really,” you let out a soft ‘ahh’ and soon realized, too, that this would be a long fucking weekend. 

the day of free practices came and went. so did your time with raphael. he wasn’t a bad conversationalist whatsoever, you were simply not interested. but you made a promise to rebecca this weekend that you would try. try and branch out instead of looking insatiably bored on live television. she was right. you needed to get over this and move on, because lando must’ve, right? he must’ve slept with that girl, given the fact that he didn’t go after you. 

did you expect him to? 

you weren’t sure. you weren’t fucking sure of anything. you weren’t a mindreader for fucks sake. but you saw his text messages. all of them. you made yourself sick with despair every night, rereading them to yourself like the fucking bible. what did you expect him to do for you? crucify himself? maybe. just maybe. 

as you were walking down the pit lane with alexandra at your side, you felt the wafting air of an oncoming storm of people. you glanced around, but alexandra was the one to point it out. 

“uh oh.” 

the papaya suits could be seen from anywhere. it’s not like they were subtle. 

you bristled and stood up straight. fuck, okay. this was happening. he’s walking this way. was he coming toward you? no, don’t be so foolish. but you hoped that he would. 

lando was approaching you, but his eyes were set forward. but when you weren’t bothering to look, he had been staring at you the entire way here. he could spot you from miles away with your countenance, your undying beauty. 

but he didn’t stop to look at you. 

you didn’t either. 

but your hands–

god your hands

they brushed past one another when he swept past your shoulder. his pinky desperately latching to yours before you let him go. you gasped lowly and he heard it, his ears twitching with the sound. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. 

if he stopped to turn, he would kiss you out in the open. 

you dared him to.

but you both kept on your way, and the interaction had you fuming. why can’t he care to show up? texts, calls, whatever, didn’t compare to the ability to show up. you knew he was in monaco. you knew exactly when he was there. it wasn’t a fucking secret. 

fuck him.

you didn’t care if you were being a brat. you knew what you put at stake, but you opened your heart to him. and you believed that maybe, just maybe, if that girl hadn’t interrupted, the two of you would be in a very different situation. maybe. but you didn’t let that thought linger. you couldn’t. 

“what was that?” alexandra whispered to you as you both kept walking. 

“nothing.” 

and that’s what you promised yourself it to be. nothing. when in reality, it had been everything. lando had seen you, spotted you from what felt like a mile away with a man lingering at your side. fuck. reality set in for him that you were looking. you were looking elsewhere from him for companionship. it made him fucking sick to his stomach, and he knew that had to change. he was a man on a mission now, a conqueror ready to pillage. 

it was the evening when you found yourself locked away in your hotel room. it was well past ten o’clock, and you were exhausted form today. alexandra had invited you out, but you just couldn’t bring yourself. rebecca prodded away at you, too, insisting that you and raphael hit it off today. he said that he wanted to see you again.

you had thought about it. you really did. 

but you couldn’t. 

you’d been sucked into a tv melodrama in your hotel room when you felt your phone vibrate. someone was calling you. 

you checked the time and raised a brow, lifting your phone to see the all-too-familiar contact card lighting up your face in the ambient lighting of the room. 

lando

you hesitated. 

suddenly your heart was racing, beating rapidly against the cage of your chest, and you felt like a prisoner to your anxiety. you felt it drop to your stomach, feeling queasy, but hit ‘answer call’ anyways. you lifted your phone to your ear, and let out a soft breath. 

“what?” 

your words were bitter, but quiet in the solitude of your room.

“didn’t think you’d answer,” came his raspy voice from the other end. he was breathless, as if he had been running. or fucking some girl. fuck you, you wanted to bite out, but held your tongue. 

“neither did i.” 

that earned you a cheeky laugh from him. he hesitated, too, before breathing. “are you at your hotel?”

you were confused by the question. “yes.” 

“can i see you?” 

his words hit you hard. you fell back against the pillows of your bed, hand coming to rest over your forehead. you sighed with a grumble. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

you could practically feel him wince through the phone. 

“please.”

fuck him and his soft words. his desperate tone, the pity that you felt for him grew. the fact of the matter flew from your head, disappearing with a singular plead from his cracked vocals. he sounded honest. that he truly wanted to see you, and a small part of you wished to reconcile whatever was happening between the two of you. you were not a woman of small touches– you wanted it all, or nothing. 

“okay.”

lando cleared his throat, choking on his breath, exhibiting his initial shock. “i– okay, okay, what room are you in?” 

“610.”

he hung up before you could let out a breath. your phone fell onto your nightwear– a simple baggy shirt and spandex. they were what kept you most comfortable at night. 

your hands raked over your face, pulling your eyelids with it. what were you doing? engaging with him, talking with him over the phone. the long text chains of read messages you had banished him to sat idly on your screen, staring you down with an ambivalence that you quivered before. was this a mistake? should you just pretend you’re–

there was a knock at your door seconds into your thoughts. 

you jumped from your bed, hands raking through your hair. how did he get here so fucking quick? you scrambled around your room, checking yourself in any reflection you could find. fuck, why were you so nervous? how could he possibly make you so riddled with anxiety in a matter of seconds? your heart was in overdrive once again, and you wondered just how much you could take. 

he said your name through the door. weak, pining. you dropped the brush you grabbed in the bathroom instantly, feet soaring over the hardwood floor to open it. when you did, you were face to face with the british driver. 

he wasn’t drunk. that’s a first. the thought crossed your mind only briefly, thinking that you were just a booty call in the late hours of the night. it wouldn’t be the first time. 

lando was disheveled, messy, and the white shirt he wore was ruffled. upon his head was a mclaren hat, concealing his identity from the outside. most importantly, though, that you noticed was how his face was glazed in a sheath of sweat. you cocked a brow at him. 

“did you run here?”

lando shrugged. it felt, in that moment, that things were normal between you two. that all of this…shit washed over for just a second. you felt at home. comfortable. but you cleared your throat and let him walk in, shutting the door behind you. 

you didn’t want to speak to him here. not where he could see your laundry everywhere, pairs of underwear sprawled around so he’d get distracted. not that you expected to fuck him here, though the thought didn’t upset you. fuck, you were in deep. 

you brushed past him, leading him to the small terrace just outside your bedroom. you slid the door open and leaned your back against the railing. he slid the door shut behind the two of you, and he took a seat in one of the wooden picnic chairs. he gawked at you, openly, letting his eyes run over your bare legs beneath the oversized shirt. 

“don’t do that.” you said, breaking the silence between you two. you seemed to rip him out of his dreamscape with a clearing of his throat. 

“do what?” he feigned innocence. though he knew what he was doing. he missed you, lest he verbalize that. 

“look at me,” you breathed, “like that.” 

his brow lifted, still playing dumb. dumb, as if he didn’t want to take you over this railing, ask you to be his. 

“like what?”

you scoffed. 

“like you’re in love with me.” 

ouch. your words bit harder than he thought they would, blood gushing from an open wound in his heart. he let your words settle before he leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as he fiddled with the skin of his thumbs. 

“i wanted to see you.” 

“i know,” you answered. “you saw me. now what?” 

lando shook his head. “don’t do that.” please don’t do that he wanted to say. 

“do what?” it was your turn to play dumb. your turn to pretend that you weren’t doing the same thing. pushing him away was the easiest way to deal with all of your problems. 

“act so cold.” he turned his head away from you, glancing over towards the lights of the city. “giving me frostbite.” 

“lando, what–”

“i’m sorry.” 

huh? you froze, eyes widening as you straightened upright. did you hear him correctly? it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard an apology. but this was a first to hear it in person, not in begging text messages half way across the world. 

“what–?”

“for everything. i’m sorry.” his head fell to his hands as he leaned over, gripping at the curls atop his head. you felt the same urge creeping up your spine, your hands feeling empty. you shifted on your feet, stepping a foot closer. 

“why now?”

he perked up, wondering what you meant. 

“why, now, are you sorry?” 

he was speechless. unable to form the words that could answer such a  vague question. but you had an idea, so you thought you’d share. 

“because i was with someone?” raphael. you know that he saw the two of you talking. chatting. maybe an occasional giggle so you could keep him quiet for the rest of the free practices. 

lando began to shake his head. “no, no–” 

“really?”

you stepped into his space, wedging yourself between his thighs. he stared up at you, lost in the reflection of your eyes beneath the starlit sky. his hands found your hips and you let him keep them there, at least for the moment. 

“really.” he promised you. head leaning forward to rest on your stomach. you felt the perch of his nose dig into your skin. your head leaned back, taking a large breath, feeling tears begin to well. 

“what do you want, then?” you said with a shaky breath. 

you felt his hands tense against your hips. 

“i don’t know.” his words were muffled, but you could make them out. it shattered you to hear the creak in his voice, but it hurt even more knowing that he didn’t know. you wanted something with him. a relationship. but he didn’t feel the same.

your fingers cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. “that’s it, then, huh?” your voice was dangerously soft. 

he was confused. again. 

“that’s all i’ll be?” he still didn’t catch on, too busy staring at your flushed face, reddened eyes. he wanted to fix it– take back his words. he’d do anything to reverse time. would do anything to revoke the words that spilled from your pretty lips. 

“one of your girls.”

you pushed him away, walking back to the railing with your back turned. he said your name over and over. you ignored him.

“i think,” you said, sucking in a tight breath to calm the storm of emotions that were threatening to raise hell. “that you should go.” 

“no, no–” lando stood, coming to wrap his arms around you, but you turned, holding up your hand to stop your advances. 

“we knew this would happen one day, didn’t we?” you reaffirmed, steadying your breaths the best that you could. but it was difficult. nothing about this was easy. but it had to be done. you were done waiting. done pining for someone that did not feel the same. did not burn the same. 

lando breathed your name again. you shook your head. “no. no. we can’t–” you choked on your tears. it felt hard to breathe. “i can’t keep waiting for you.” 

lando’s own eyes filled with tears. it felt like a breakup, when you two were clearly never together. you made that clear enough, and he obeyed, just wishing to feel your skin beneath his fingers, fall asleep to your heart beat. so why did he say he didn’t know? fuck, he’s such an asshole. he couldn’t take back his words now, could he? 

he tried to explain. words stumbled from his lips, nervous and riling with anxiety, but you would hear none of it. you simply brushed past him and into your room, opening the door from your hotel room for him. you said nothing else, tears sliding down your cheeks, lip caught between your teeth. 

“please,” he begged one last time. he had succumbed to his tears, too, cheeks flushed and lip wet. his hands trembled as he made one last attempt to cup your face. you let him. 

your foreheads met in both desperation and exhaustion. here, it felt like time stopped. the two of you in sync with your racing hearts, trembling hands, voracious blood churning through your veins. you looked up at him through your wet lashes and he met your gaze. it only had you sobbing harder. 

he wiped the tears from your cheeks. 

“please,” he said your name on his trembling tongue. the sound had your knees trembling, but you resisted. you had to. you couldn’t keep doing this anymore. there was a life out there, waiting for you to take hold of. “don’t make me go.” 

you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head. 

“you have to.” 

lando hiccuped. his fingers were still shaking, and he finally accepted your rejection. though he supposed he signified it first. that was his first mistake. he couldn’t take back his words without sounding like a dick, so he was trapped. trapped utterly in this pit of mayhem. 

he exited your hotel room with his tail between his legs. defeated. 

you shut the door behind him and slumped against it, your back sliding down until you hit the floor. your head fell into your hands as you attempted to stifle your sobs. 

little did you know, that he had done the same thing, fallen limp against your hotel room door. your sobs were in unison as you began to unravel, whilst he coiled into knots. forever entwined amidst your inability to be vulnerable with one another. toilsome, but ultimately true. 

you didn’t know how long you stayed there. he didn’t know how long he stayed there. the two of you stayed in parallel behind a closed door, mimicking each other’s beating heart, for you knew that they would never be one. 

when you woke, you were still slumped against the door. you stood, stretching out your painfully aching muscles, arched your back, twisted your neck. your eyes were swollen raw with your epidemic of tears the night prior, and you rubbed the crust away. the memories flooded through you. lando was here. he was here, and you had to haul his ass out.

you thought he was going to kiss you. 

but he didn’t. your lips would remain untouched by his own. 

your fingers ghosted over your mouth, shivering at the memory of him so close to you. you could feel his breath fanning over your face– the heaving, desperate puffs of air– and he felt yours, too, with the same amount of anxiety. you were a wreck before him, and he was too. 

in no time you found your phone, grimacing at your battery, and the plethora of texts from rebecca and alexandra. it was still early in the morning so you had time to pull yourself together, but you had a big day with them today. qualifying was happening, and rebecca had set you up.

she set you up with raphael for the day. you knew she meant the best. and maybe it was. this was your opportunity to uphold your promise– to move on. you had to, or else you would be strung dry for the remainder of your life, with dreary hopes and aimless romantics. you would not drown in the ocean of lando norris, despite how cumbersome he gripped on your ankles. 

you fixed yourself for the day. showering quickly, styling your hair to your liking. you threw on a formal chic outfit, perhaps trying a bit hard today to catch raphael’s eye– or someone else’s, by chance. but you left the unattainable at the back of your mind today, heart far too raw to be ripped open again.

you would stick with something safe. someone safe. raphael was your answer in the short term. you were sick of playing the long game, bested to your knees in the face of whatever conspired between you and the british driver. you were convinced it was for the best. it had to be. these emotions couldn’t be for nothing. 

it couldn’t be for nothing. 

when you arrived to the track that morning, alexandra was quick to meet your side. she had an impenetrable amount of questions for you, yearning for your answers, but you only gave her a brief overview. 

“we’re done,” you said as you walked through the pit lane. “he doesn’t want me like that.” 

she was clearly taken back. her hand flew over her heart, obviously distressed for you. you admired her care for you. you would do the same for her. “really?” 

you nodded, gulping down the lump in your throat that was tempting to choke you. 

“it’s okay.” you reaffirmed her. she made a move to speak over you, console you to the highest degree, but you stopped her. “i’m fine. swear. let’s have a good day, shall we?” you plastered on a fake smile towards her, but you knew she saw through you. but she would accept this for now when you were approached by carlos, rebecca, and raphael. 

you smiled brighter when raphael came to kiss both your cheeks. you gripped his bicep. engaging in conversation with him felt easier today, and you weren’t begging for an out. you’d catch rebecca’s eye here and there, and she glowed with happiness. if you weren’t doing this for yourself, you could at least say that you were doing it for her. 

raphael was not a bad man whatsoever. he smelled good, had good hygiene, and had a glowing smile. but he didn’t smell the same. didn’t have the same musk. didn’t have the harsh pricks of a stubble that burned into the skin of your neck. 

fuck. you missed the feeling of that stubble. 

you clung to raphael’s side for the rest of the day, a burning itch between your thighs undoing the morals of your mind. if you wanted to get over lando, you’d have to truly get over him. 

it was never a ‘string’s attached’ relationship, was it? you were free to fuck whoever you want, when you want. so why would it be so bad if you wished to see raphael bend down for you? 

or you wanted someone else, but raphael was the closest you’d get. 

the rest of the day went by smoothly. for you, at least, but not for lando.

he had come into the mclaren paddock looking absolutely awry. his hair messy, eyes dreary with sleep and emotion, whereas you…you looked beautiful. untouched by your emotions from the night before. so much so that you were cuddled against that same fucking dude, which had lando’s blood bursting to life. 

you were across in the pitlane observing the car, arms folded over your chest. that fucking guy’s hand rested on the upper part of your back, rolling soft circles with the pads of his fingers. he clenched the rim of his helmet in his hands. his teeth grinded inside his mouth, sawing down the enamel. for you, he’d have no teeth. for you were the only world he wished to bite, and even then you starved him of it. 

“y’alright, mate?” oscar’s voice interrupted his thoughts. lando broke his stare from the pair of you, ripping his eyes away. 

but you had turned, then, and let your eyes linger on his back.

“fine.” 

that evening was no different than any other. for lando, at least, he succumbed to his hotel room for the night. he had no interest in going out. if he saw you with that spanish prick, he’d only lose himself even more. the guilt of losing you had been overturning, divulging into what a psychologist would declare as madness. 

but you were the opposite. you were out on the town, clubbing with rebecca and raphael. carlos was there, too, but was saving his energy for the race tomorrow. he held no drink in his hand, but you did. you were downing shot after shot. 

you were swaying your hips, grinding against raphael with a steady pace. he was into it. his dick was aggressively hard against the back side of your dress, but you weren’t scared by it. it enticed you further, in fact, and had you drawing new sensations of pleasure through you.

finally, you thought, a break from him. from lando. but the voices echoed inside the back of your mind. it bounced off the walls; he couldn’t compare. 

lando would have his hands drawing up the sides of your body. fingertips scathing the fabric of your dress, teasing touches that would have you writhing in his hold, desperate for him to fuck you in the back. 

lando would have his face nuzzled into your neck whispering bittersweet praises into your ear. he’d squeeze your hips with anticipation as the both of you would move in sync. always in sync. the two of you were one on the dance floor, one when you fucked one another senseless in your less than private moments. when he was particularly desperate for your touch, he’d go as far as taking you in the bathrooms at any club. he had no shame; not when it came to you. 

but raphael was tame. and maybe you appreciated tame. maybe this was a new start for you. fresh and free of any unknowns. 

“you’re beautiful, hermosa.” he would whisper to you, body trying its best to keep up with you. he did, for the most part, but you moved to your own beat. lando would know. he knew every inch of you. were you really prepared to be strangers? 

you spun around in raphael’s arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you offered him a cheeky smile. this wasn’t you. “and you’re handsome!” it was alcohol talking. you would never be seen so exuberant. not like this. 

it had raphael laughing, though, and it was enough for him to take you back to his place. 

the entire way back to his place you were giggling, latching onto his tanned skin. his hair was soft, sheen, and luscious. your hands never got lost in the strands of his hair– it was too combed, not curly enough. nothing was curly enough. 

and then he had you against the wall of his flat. your hands pinned against your head, and he met your lips with his. fuck, you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been kissed. but the worst part about all of it was–

you hated it. 

you tugged his head down to your neck, letting him work the sensitive skin with his tongue. your lips felt hot. blistering with a heat you haven’t felt in a long time. it felt…it felt…

raphael’s tongue found the meeting part of your underwear and skin, “can i?” he asked with a timid voice. you let out a soft moan and nodded. he tugged the fabric down, your dress still hanging off your body. you didn’t even remember if he left kisses along your neck, your breasts, you guessed his lips weren’t that memorable. 

and then his tongue was against your slit. you weren’t wet enough. clearly. you could feel the chapped parts of your cunt, disappointed in your body that you couldn’t ‘get it up’ for him. whereas he was practically jacking off in his pants, you were left like a desert. it wouldn’t be like this with lando. 

he explored your cunt with his tongue, narrowly dodging your clit ever so slightly. he thought your noises of pleasure were noises of distress, so he avoided touching your clit as much as possible. so he tongued you through and through, until you began to become irritated. 

you couldn’t even feel tight in your stomach. the feeling couldn’t be outmatched. maybe your sexdrive had died. maybe you could never cum ever again. this was to be your fate– dry and lonely. fuck. you let your head fall back against the wall, which he took as a good sign, and kept going. instead, you threaded your hands through his hair, rolling your eyes. 

you let out a few soft, faked moans. you felt guilty– of course you did– but apparently it was an olympic sport to make you cum. he certainly wouldn’t make the playoffs. 

after another minute of this, you were fed up. 

you tightened your cunt on command, which took a lot of fucking work, thank you, and began to heighten the sound of your moans. the award for best fake orgasm goes to: you!!! you surged forward to grip onto his shoulders, even pretending to be shaking. 

you deserved an oscar. 

“didn’t think i was that good.” 

an egot, maybe. 

you let out a soft sigh, a faked chuckle, and let him lead you to his bedroom. he fell atop of you on your back, holding himself up with the strength of his forearms. he dipped his hand down, scathing over your irritated cunt. you gasped at his hand finding your slit once again, drenched in only his spit, and without warning slipped a finger inside of you. 

your mouth hung open, lurching at the sudden contact. you felt sinched beneath his weight, taught with tension. he even curled his finger inside of you. he grazed your bundle of nerves that had your squirming. squirming for more pressure. he kept hitting your spot until he pulled away. you looked confused at first, wondering where exactly he was going. 

and…then he was pulling his cock out. fuck. you really weren’t going to win here, tonight, were you? not in the slightest, it seemed. he looked down at you with a knowing smirk. the same one where he thought you came beneath his tongue. 

he thought you came. 

fuck!

“are you ready?” he asked when his cock pushed against the skin of your lower belly. he was a good size, you admit, but you had a inkling that you weren’t going to find a sweet release with his hands. you nodded, forgetting your manners, but raphael said nothing. 

he pushed into you with a discerning pace. you scrunched your nose out of his eyesight. he was too busy fucking himself into your pussy. he couldn’t even open his eyes to look at you. and, for the record, he didn’t use a condom. dick. at least you had a form of a contraceptive. you’d make sure not to let him finish inside you. that’s for fucking sure. 

he slid in and out of you with the lubrication of his spit and his own precum. you didn’t move. you laid there, bored, faking a moan and gasp here and there. 

the whole time you thought about someone else. and you didn’t feel guilty about it. you were able to find yourself comforted by the dreaming thought of lando’s voice in your ear. the phantom touch of his stubble. the amount of moles that you could count on his face. 

with a grunt, you felt raphael push off of you, cumming onto his own sheets. he laid there, panting, and you…”did the same.” 

he turned to face you, smile on his face. “did you finish?”

you nodded with an itching smile. he seemed triumphant. though you couldn’t be drier than a haystack. 

your exit from his flat quickly. it’s not like he even took your dress off. he insisted that you stayed, but you retorted that you had an early morning with alexandra. whether or not that's true, you didn’t seem to care. he didn’t fight your statement and seamlessly let you go, clearly too exhausted from his evening to even see you out the door.

you hailed a cab from your hotel shamefully. you felt icky. your lip sneered when you caught a cab and tipped the driver once you arrived back. the elevator ride never seemed so tantalizingly long. 

when you swiped into your room, you threw your belongings on your bed and turned on a hot shower. while you waited for the water to heat, you opened your phone. 

no messages from lando. 

did you expect any?

maybe. 

you decided to call him. you didn’t fucking care. it was the alcohol talking. 

ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…

no answer. 

you left a voicemail.

“heeyyy…!!” you surged into the phone as you began to untangle your dress from your body. “i–uh, i dunno i just…wanted to call you… because i…” you swore under your breath as you couldn’t get a strap off. “sorry i…” you stuttered, laughing to yourself. “i think i miss you, lan.” 

and then you hung up, singing yourself into the shower. the hot water panned over your body, fingers trailing over the mounds of your breasts. the soft skin of your abdomen. 

but with your whimsy, came a price.

lando was there. he just didn’t answer your call. he had been awake, wondering what you were doing, since you were absent on almost all forms of social media. so when he got your call, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. 

then the voicemail came.

he must’ve played it over a dozen times. hearing your soft voice, amicable and kind. you had been drinking, clearly, and he could hear the sound of the shower running in the background. he held his phone against his head, other hand running through his hair. he was a wreck over you, and you were as well. drunk dialing was never a thing between the two of you. 

especially an ‘i miss you.’ 

and how ‘lan’ slipped past your lip with such ease. the name was meant for you to use. only you. 

he found himself stroking his cock to your words, the temptress in your voice. he knew she was there, baiting him, and he was no better than a fish to bite. he fisted his cock with your name on his lips, and a reminder that yours was on his.

with a pounding heartbeat and ringing in his ears, all he could think about was you. and more or less, you the same.

your fingers trailed down your navel in the shower, coming to nib at the lips of your clit. how swollen it was, angered and annoyed, that such a man could ignore it. by association, you. 

a hand rolled over one of your breasts, twisting your nipple in hand. you gasped at the sensation you provided, flicking your clit between your fingers. you truly needed no more to make yourself cum, except the thought of lando’s voice in your ears. 

‘come on, baby,’ he would say to you, fingers gliding along your drenched slit with ease. you clenched around nothing, whimpering to yourself in the hum of the hot shower. ‘little more for me, yeah?’ he would always talk you through it. never once would you be alone when you came. he was always there, lingering, a shadow against the walls. 

you slipped a single finger inside of yourself, curling it expertly as lando taught you to. ‘just like that, sweet thing.’ he’d mutter against your shoulder as he’d fuck you on a chair facing a mirror. you could never make yourself cum before his “lessons.” 

your back arched against the marble of the shower walls. your thumb and forefinger worked just like his would against your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves until a coil inside of you snapped, and you came all over yourself with his name on your lips.

and he could feel it. amongst the cosmic plane. he had been grudgingly fisting his cock, grunting your name over his lips. it was sinful, the way that his cock was spewing cum in only a matter of minutes at the thought of your voice. ‘lan, lan,’ you would say to him, ‘need it. need you inside,’ you’d whimper against him, begging for his cum to seep out of you. 

he’d never deny you a pleasure. so he shouldn’t deny himself. he came in a matter of seconds over the palm of his hand, your name flustering his tongue. and he’d lay there, soaking in his milky cum, eyes blown wide at just how much of an effect you had on him; mind, body, and soul. 

you stood there in the shower, flustered from heat, the slick running down your thighs. your hearts beat in unison at that moment, miles apart, on the same wavelength. 

the shower wasn’t the same after that. you felt dirty, but so good. the namesake of lando’s voice in your ear was enough to have you cumming on your own fingers, but the touch of another man made you ill. what a shock that was to you. or maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all. 

clean to the best of your ability, you slept easy that night. the best sleep you’ve had this weekend, in fact, with lando frolicking through your dreams. and you in his, whispering soft ‘i love you’s’ which had him writhing with pleasure. you infested every part of him, and he did the same to you. you’d never be free of lando norris, and the thought began to settle. it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but you couldn’t forget his words. 

‘i don’t know,’ he spoke into your stomach. his nose pinched you. the words sliced clean. your stomach coiled not with pleasure, but anxiety. why didn’t he want you that way? why did he hesitate? 

you weren’t taking his rejection well. that was clear. 

but he wasn’t taking this any better. he was going through his own emotional turmoil of trying to make this up to you. it would be the last thing that he did. 

when you woke that morning with a groggy headache and a sore ache between your thighs, you couldn’t help but groan. what the fuck were you doing last night? you perhaps had the most disappointing sex of your entire life, and now, as you looked in the mirror you were nothing more than mortified. 

littered on your chest, above your breasts, were a few specks of bruises. hickey’s. fuck. fuck. that was one thing that was always far too intimate. kisses and hickeys. what did this mean, then, that you belonged to raphael? your fingers trailed up the bruises on your chest, the flesh tender beneath your soft touch. you winced at the memory of his cocky face, thinking that he had you finishing more than once. if at all. you leaned over the sink, washing your face off with cold water. 

your hands rested at the base of your neck. your reflection stared back at you, pitiful, the bruises beneath your eyes reflected a tiredness that the word ‘exhaustion’ could not begin to fathom. you were disappointed in yourself. that much was clear. 

a sigh escaped you when you finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. for the race today, you decided on a long dress. one that covered your chest, but hung on your shoulders. it was a beautiful piece. you’d been saving it for this weekend, and you were more than thankful that the universe seemed to be looking out for you. 

you tidied up your appearance the best you could and slid on a pair of heels, grimacing at the sore ache from the night before. raphael didn’t have a valet, so you had to walk across four blocks with his hands wandering down your sides, desperate to fuck you in an alleyway. ew. you shivered at the memory, but continued on from your hotel room.

though, you took one last glance before leaving, and let your eyes rest on the balcony. it felt like a dream to see lando sitting there, his face resting against the tender flesh of your stomach. his stubble itched through the cotton of your shirt, but it rather tickled. and then he said he didn’t know what he wanted with you, and your whole life slipped right through your fingers. 

he slipped through your fingers. 

you shut the door. 

lando’s morning, on the other hand, started off stellar in comparison to yours. he had stayed up a while longer, wondering if you would call him back, but you never did. there was a faint pang of disappointment, but much more guilt that he let you slip away so easily. he should’ve refused to leave your hotel room that night. refused by any force you attempted on him. 

but he’s just that much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? when he left for the paddock early that morning, he glanced at his phone one last time. one missed call, and it was from you last night. and then suddenly, his heart was warm, and there was a smile on his face.

all this told him was that there was a chance. you called him. you called him whether or not you were shitfaced. blackout drunk. in your vulnerable moments you thought of him. reached out for him. fuck, he was in love with you.

in love

he paused when he shut the door behind him, frozen in place. what? is that what this was? love? 

anxiety churned in his stomach. this feeling had been there for a while. a long time. and only now he was just realizing it. shit. 

he fiddled with his phone in his hands. thumb hovering over your contact card, he let it fall. 

it rang twice before he heard the line connect. 

“yeah?” you said, demure and quiet. he knew you were exhausted. he’s heard this tone before. the tone you had when you were viciously hungover. it had him chuckling. “what?” 

“good morning to you, too.” the words rolled easy from him. he suddenly felt calmer with you on the other end, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in the pit of his stomach. 

“good morning.” you said, like you were shocked that he was calling you to say good morning. 

“fun night?” he asked, stepping into the elevator and hitting the ‘lobby’ button. a few members of his team were already waiting for him. 

 but you had froze up in the car ride to the paddock. what? how could he know? did he know that you were with raphael? you cleared your throat. “what– what do you mean?” 

“you called me.” 

shit. 

if you weren’t fucked already, you were royally now. your hand dragged over your forehead as your head swarmed with anxious thoughts, completely forgetting about calling him and then…touching yourself in the shower to the thought of him. yikes! what a little freak you were. but lando would enjoy it. 

“i–” you stuttered, voice caught in your throat. “i’m sorry…i was just…” 

your voice trailed and you could hear his childish laugh from the other end. “no, no. it was cute.” you heard the elevator ding from his end, but it hard to focus on when there was a deep blush flustering your cheeks. 

“i didn’t mean to bother you,” you quickly said, finding the need to apologize over and over again for disrupting his night. it was embarrassing enough as is that you had the worst sex of your life, but you called the one man that didn’t want you for consolidation. what a conundrum that was, wasn’t it? 

“you didn’t.” his words were firm this time, no traces of playfulness. you perked up at this, finding yourself laughing. 

“must’ve said something dumb, didn’t i?” 

there was a pause. 

“yeah. yeah. something dumb.” 

there was another beat of silence. you shifted in the uber, the pass around your neck.

“i’ll see you there?” 

you heard him suck in a tight breath, then release it. 

“yeah. yeah, ‘course you will.” 

you smiled. he could feel it. 

“okay. bye, then.” 

he said your name softly on the other end with a salutation, and the line went flat. you slammed your back against the leather seats of the car, hands rolling over your face. you rubbed your eyes, wondering if you were still dreaming. 

it wasn’t fair that he could make you this way. that he had you in tears just a few nights before, and now your fingers shook with excitement. fuck him. fuck him for making you feel this way, and yet, there was no trace of annoyance on your face. 

just a bright smile. 

your name was called when you swiped into the paddock. it had you whipping your head up to see who it could be, but you already knew that it was alexandra. she wasn’t trailed by anyone else, thank god, and she flung her arms around you for a hug. 

you sang a soft greeting towards her, and she looked up at you expectantly. you raised a brow. 

“so…!?” 

you narrowed your eyes. 

“your night with…!” her voice dropped to a whisper. “raphael.” 

you shushed her, looking around, before you held one of her hands in yours. “you want the truth?” her facial expression dropped, but she nodded anyways. 

“awful.” 

she groaned, head rolling back in disappointment. “i told rebecca it wasn’t a good idea.” 

“the sex was…horrible. just…i mean, what the fuck?” alexandra burst out into a laugh as the both of you joined side by side towards the ferrari hospitality. you dreaded going, given the unanswered texts for him, you didn’t want to be confronted with…anything. 

“most importantly…” alexandra stopped the two of you before you entered. “are you over him?” 

him. the inevitable. 

you swallowed. 

and nodded your head.

alexandra was only slightly pleased and gave you a reassuring smile. boy, this would be a long day. 

before the race started you were wandering around the pitlane with your miniature crew of ferrari girlfriends and their friends. raphael had found you, eagerly, with a prideful smile on his face. out of kindness, you returned the gesture, and let him linger around you for the day.

ferrari’s pit was next to mclaren’s. you couldn’t help but stare. 

lando was there. in his papaya race suit. he was speaking to his engineers, and never glanced your way. look at me, you wanted to shout. please, your mind begged. but you stayed firm at raphael’s side.

he dared to stretch out his hand to let it loiter on your waist, but you shimmied out of the contact with an awkward smile. he noticed, but didn’t say anything. 

lando did too. 

but not what you wanted him to see. he saw you with raphael’s arm around your waist. you were smiling, laughing, in their presence. whereas he couldn’t even bear a night out without the cumbersome thoughts of you constricting his mind. he thought of nothing but you. and here you were, haphazardly dangling this spanish prick in front of his face. fucker. 

you turned to look at lando again, free of raphael’s touch. he was staring.

your heart beat faster, eyes widened. your palms were sweating– why were they sweating? he looked pissed, frustrated, but you didn’t know why. your brows upturned with a soft expression that he yearned for, and his envy flushed away. 

it was that easy. your gentle features. the concern ridden in your face. 

you even gave him a small wave, twiddling your fingers. he was bashful in response, and returned it with a small twist of his own fingers. 

but his eyes carried down. towards your chest. you blinked, realizing that part of your dress had slipped further. there was an obvious bruise making an appearance, and you felt guilty. guilty as if you had cheated on him, but you were never in a relationship to begin with.

you saw his jaw tightened and his hands flex before he turned, leaving you speechless. 

and then you were dragged away, just like that, into the viewing panel for the race. they were about to start their formation lap, yet you could barely focus with your racing heart. 

it past with ease. raphael tried to get closer to you, but you found excuses to stay huddled at alexandra’s side. she noticed, and even wrapped her own arm around your waist. the two of you were a picturesque vision of divine femininity. you felt untouchable at her side, incomparable to any girlfriend you’ve ever had. 

lando was fighting hard. he was aggressive on the straits, pushing past the limits of his drs. your hand traced over your chin as you watched the tv intensely, frightened when you saw him make contact with one of the mercedes drivers. 

“what is he doing…” you muttered under your breath. your nailbeds were being hacked on by your teeth, chewing them down to the stump. parts of your thumbs streamed with blood. 

little to your knowledge, your reaction had been broadcasted. alexandra’s face unfurled with a cheeky look, realizing that she had been played by your deception from earlier. you were not over him. in fact, you were entirely worse than before. your concern was ebbed through the power of media, and that wouldn’t be forgotten. 

“are you okay?” came raphael’s voice. you didn’t even look at him.

“fine.” 

he took your cold tone in earnest, realizing that there was something more at stake here. 

you couldn’t be more grateful when lando passed the checkered flag. your hand found the column of your throat, finding comfort. you let your face be consumed by a smile, one similar to raphael’s when he thought he made you came. stupid man, you thought, glancing towards the spaniard. you had a new priority now.

you had to prove that you wanted lando. but how? everything felt like it was becoming too complicated. your fates were intertwined via an invisible string. 

and you didn’t even go to his podium.

he looked for you, sweat dripping down his forehead, but didn’t see you. it had him grow weary, agitated. he raced this hard so he could prove himself to you. prove that he was better than some lowlife. 

but he fears he lost you. 

the hickey’s on your neck spoke volumes. you fucked him. fucked that stranger. his fists curled around the trophy, break-necking the medal display. 

did you come? 

no. stop that. it’s none of his business to ask–

she didn’t. you couldn’t. 

the pieces began to fall in place in his head. the phone call. you called him…when you needed him most. 

it suddenly made holding this trophy all the more worthwhile, and he even donned a smile on his face when he raised it high above his head. this, he thought, was victory. 

the night came as swiftly as the day went. you were getting ready to go out, alexandra reminding you to schedule your uber. you did. the dress you wore this evening was short. one of your favorite colors, and had a high neckline. for obvious reasons. you were entirely mortified that raphael felt the primal need to mark you like some bitch. it had your stomach twisting with anger, fingers pulsing with a punch. 

but your violent urges stayed dormant when you met up with alexandra, charles, rebecca, carlos, and…raphael. jeez, what a lot you’ve surrounded yourself with. raphael was at your side in an instant when you climbed out of the uber, refusing to give you a morsel of space. it had your lip curling, grimacing down the vomit that curdled in your throat. 

you barely spoke a word to him tonight. there was nothing more to say to him. if you were to say anything, it would be a rotten lie. 

alexandra tugged you along through the doors, charles at her flank, which you gladly let her do. anything to get away from raphael would be best for you, given how much you didn’t want to confront him. it was just for the weekend, right? no strings attached. 

no strings attached, echoed through your mind. flashes of lando’s hands on your hips, the phantom embrace that tensed around your flesh, seeped into your head. your heart plummeted against your will, looking around futilely for his bright smile amongst the sea of oncomers. 

it didn’t take you long.

but you wish that it did. 

he had his arm slung around some girl, hat backwards, first few buttons undone on his white dress shirt. hands clamming up, you tightened them together over your front, letting your eyes gawk at such a beautiful pairing. it was a different girl than the one you had rudely met in monaco. 

another one of his girls. 

your mind begged you to let it go. but your heart chained itself to lando, refusing to let go this…infatuation that had you sick to your stomach. what did she have that you didn’t? was she nonchalant? was she a cool girl? 

your staring lasted too long. lando saw you. he felt your eyes– your heated stare, beckoning his attention. he answered your call, glancing directly at you. but he did not wave. 

neither did you. 

the urge thwarted you to look anywhere else but him, tugged your attention elsewhere, but you stayed firm on his freckled face, sharp cheekbones, his daunting stare. you felt the beat of his heart from across the room, the bass boosted rap, his irritability when raphael came to rest a hand on your hip. but you did not turn away from this fight. your arsenal was loaded, and so was his. 

lando glanced at raphael, first to break eye contact, and swug the rest of his cocktail in hand. he let the glass slide across the counter of the bar before tugging the girl at his side to his front, the pair of them dancing with one another. 

fine, if he wants to play, then you’ll play. 

you were handed a cocktail by raphael. you thanked him sincerely before you downed your own in one gulp. raphael gaped at you with a slack jaw. you wiped the loose drops from your jaw, and offered him your hand. 

“dance with me?” 

raphael didn’t need to be asked twice when he took your hand. you led him deeper into the club, the led lights brightening both your faces. in this light, you supposed that he was irrecoverably handsome. and the thought slipped through your mind that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve had a good life with him. that in some universe that you could get over this feud with a man who doesn’t want you, you’d have a well-earned chance at happiness. 

but the thought left just as quickly as it came. 

your hips were against his. ass against his crotch, grinding in a rough series of movements. he began growing accustomed to how you moved, and that much you could be thankful for. no longer would the two of you be awkward on the dance floor, fragile hands trembling against your body. he felt more confident, but you could tell there was something brewing behind those big brown eyes of his. but you honestly couldn’t care less, not when you were distracted. 

not when your eyes were entranced on a man who treated you like garbage. who cried in your arms, begged for your presence. then, left your hotel room with tears streaming down your face. 

his hands were tightly wound around the girls abdomen, cocky expression glazing his face. he spoke to a few of his buddies here, too, amply looking like a douche. one that who knew exactly what he was doing to girls. fuck. 

you were just one of his girls. 

this enraged you. but it shouldn’t. but it did. there was no excuse for your fray of emotions. they simply existed, and you were going to deal with them. not in a responsible way. no, you were far too gone for that. alcohol warmed your throat, your palms, your chest. 

you let your head lean back onto raphael’s shoulder, your mouth coming to his ear. “you can touch me.” you encouraged him. he seemed to lighten at this, becoming bold enough to let his hands trail up your body. he’d indulge in your shape, letting his fingers imprint against the globes of your breasts, the lining of your panties beneath your dress. 

a light giggle left you when you let your head rise from his blades, and were met with an aggressive, terrifying, stare from across the room. 

your lips puckered. 

lando’s head was resting on the girl’s shoulder, his hips swaying with hers, but his eyes were trained on you. you, you, and more you. he was glaring at the man behind you, his gaze so bitter that it soured even your own tongue. it was the miniscule amount of guilt that flustered your head, but you shoved it down. 

lando retaliated, beginning to kiss on the girls neck. she leaned against him, a gorgeous smile lighting up the room. 

you grumbled, turning your head to meet raphael’s eyes. your eyes pleaded with a language of seduction, one that any man could understand. 

raphael took the bait. 

his lips trailed down your ear, down the column of your neck. all whilst your back was pressed against his front, you felt the outline of his dick. your palm tightened at the memory of how he attempted to fuck you, but you had to remain composed. you couldn’t fail now. 

your lip caught between your teeth for dramatics. like you were holding back a moan. 

lando was watching. in fact, he never stopped. he was drunk on the addiction of watching you. watching you grind your hips on that fuckin’ guy, not even wince when his lips were glossing over the sensitive flesh of your neck. could he make you wet with just his mouth? 

the british driver could feel his end nearing. if this progressed any further, he’d drag your ass to the bathroom and fuck you like you’d deserve. he didn’t give a fuck. not anymore. not when your lip was bitten by your top row of teeth, an illusive point to how that guy was pleasuring you. he felt fucking sick. though he was starving to the same degree. 

his chest was aflame at your teasing touches on your own body. he could see the outline of your panties, the lack of a bra. your nipples were pinching against the fabric that confined them, and he had to stop himself from drooling. you were so fucking sexy. 

the girl at his front was growing bored of her lack of attention. he, honestly, didn’t even remember her name. but he’d suffice it with a swirl of his tongue around the skin of her jaw. it was a critical move, since he knew that you’d never let yourself be kissed. you wouldn’t risk such intimacy with a man you’ve only known for a few days–

except you would. 

this was war, wasn’t it? 

watching lando suck and slurp on that girl’s neck had you desperate to come up with an alternate idea. an approach that would crown you victorious without a second thought. it was cruel, you knew this, but you were out of options. you had something to prove. prove that you were over him. though, you knew that this would end in one of two ways;

him, fucking you.

or, him leaving. 

you much preferred the latter. 

with enough fury boiling in your bones, you lifted your head to meet raphael’s eyes. with your pointer finger, you let it roll over his chin, connecting with your thumb. you glanced at his lips, your tongue wetting your own, and pulled him to meet you. 

raphael said your name into your mouth, nervous to even let his tongue explore yours. you sucked in a tight breath, lip curling to reference a snarl at how much you despised the sensation. it was messy, wet, and you felt instantly disgusted with yourself for even letting him touch your lips. you felt like you jumped too far into a relationship with raphael, even though you were certain that you didn’t want one. 

“be my girlfriend,” raphael breathed into your mouth. you hummed a laugh, thinking that he was joking. but he moved to separate you too, staring at you with a brazen thoroughness that you never wished to see again. 

“i’m serious. i want–” 

“‘scuse me, mate,” you knew that voice. you knew that voice too well. your head spun around to see lando leering dangerously close to raphael’s face, the heat of his body emanating onto your own. he stood only a few inches from you.

you felt his hand ghost over the small of your back, and you suddenly felt desperate to feel it. with your lips raw from that kiss, your fingertip glazed over the flesh, your eyes lost in lando’s tense expression. his jaw was tightened, chest doing it’s best to keep his heated expression under control. however, that control was slipping with every passing moment that you were in raphael’s arms. 

raphael turned his attention to lando, suddenly pissed. “need something?” 

lando gave him a hoarse chuckle. “yeah. can i borrow your lady for a second?”

raphael made a move to shake his head. “no, we were just—”

“thanks, mate.” lando gripped your back with his fingertips, digging into the skin without mercy. you felt his anger rolling off of him in tense waves, the urge to consolidate him overwhelming. he led you through the crowds of people with an insurmountable force, jaw tightly clenched the entire way. you could practically hear his teeth grinding against one another. 

he said nothing until he opened– no, broke the door– to the bathroom. it was a single stall– no one was in there. he allowed you to enter first, stretching out his arm as a much needed signal. you waited a moment, arms crossing over your chest. 

his eyes didn’t relent. he would wait here all fucking day before you decided to go in. and you did. he locked the door behind the two of you in an instant. 

“what the fuck are you–” you began to scold, back turned to him as you approached the mirror and the sink. you were interrupted when he spun you around, hand place firmly on your hip. the contact had you gasping, glancing down at his hand. 

“so, what?” he said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, blown pupils. his heart was electrified, hidden behind his cage of ribs, and one hand flexed as it gripped the edges of the porcelain sink. he hummed, “hm? he your boyfriend now?”you gaped at him. “you’re serious?” you stifled a laugh, unbelieving of his attitude. “what’s it to you, lando? hm?”

his shoulders tensed. “you shouldn’t be with him.” 

you rolled your eyes. lando gripped your chin, demanding your attention. “why not, then? ‘m i supposed to be your whore forever?” 

his thumb rolled over your bottom lip. “you never were,” he tsked. you were bewildered. brow raising, however difficult to focus when his hand around your hip began to swirl circles on your skin. 

“what the fuck are you saying, then, lando? you need to–”

“you let him kiss you.” 

you froze. 

“never me. why?” his restraint was slipping. his forehead edged closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your face. 

“why?” he asked again, his nose brushing against your own. you shook your head ‘no,’ lip beginning to quiver beneath his body. his chest pressed against your own as he got closer. he needed to be closer. “he fuck you better? hm? that it?” 

you shuddered when you felt his fingers lower from your hip, trailing circles towards your navel, the slit of your dress that met your upper thigh. 

“go on,” he urged, his voice tense from gritting his teeth. “tell me. tell me, and i’ll stop.” 

you stayed quiet except for the whimper that left your throat when his fingers curled against your panties, a dampened spot ruining the fabric. there was a deep chuckle against your face, lando’s forehead still against your own. you tightened your lips together, not daring a word to spill. 

“tell me, and i’ll let you go party with your new boy.” 

“fuck you,” you bit out, seething with your desire, angered with his jealous antics. 

“yeah? yeah? you want ‘ta fuck me?” there was no way of hiding his cocky grin. it could be seen from miles away, even when his face was millimeters from yours. 

“you’re an asshole,” you heaved, your hips bucking when he began to slide your underwear to the side. your breaths were harsh against his cheeks. 

“must like ‘em mean, then,” he cooed, followed by a deep chuckle. “‘cause you’re drippin’ for me.” you felt your slick seep around his fingers as h grazed the puffy lips of your cunt. your head was thrown back against the concrete wall, smacking against the surface. lando was quick to adjust your head, his fingers tugging into your hair. 

“fuck,” you sighed, finding his pleasures undeniable. he was so on edge from seeing you kissing raphael, that he was lost in his madness. this pent up lust was bursting from its locked away jar, pouring its fury onto you. “touch me, lando. please–” 

with a swift motion he perched you onto the porcelain sink, your head lolling against the mirror, supported by his palm. he tugged you forward so your glossy cunt stained the front of his black pants. the wet spot was pertinent, your face flushing with embarrassment. you were supposed to hate this. why did you love it? 

“‘am touchin’ you, baby.” his middle finger teased you, blessing you with a split moment of euphoria of grazing your clit. you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “look at me,” his hand tightened in your hair. your eyes flashed open, face to face with his crooked, loving smile. “look at me when i make you cum.”

you nodded, whimpering rapidly. he grinned harder at your desperate, pleading tone. though you spoke no words, he could tell just how badly you needed him. 

“inside,” your begging didn’t cease, especially when he was still refusing to slide a finger inside of you. “please, please—”

your words were cut off when his middle finger curled sweetly inside of you, eliciting the sweetest pleasure you have felt in weeks. the moan you delivered was guttural, deep, and most of all, primal. lando’s dick pulsated in his pants, his fingers twitching at your lewd voice. 

a hand reached out to grip onto his bicep, your head falling into the crook of his neck. you felt undeniably at ease in his hold, despite the hurt that he’s caused you. 

his finger began to slide in and out of you, scissoring you to high hell and back, and you were putty in his hands. moments like these is what he favored most with you, but he would take anything to be in your presence. he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when he swooped you up from that asshole’s arms, leaving him shocked and disrespected. lando was keen enough to twist his head over his shoulder when he led you away, watching as raphael’s face contorted with disappointment. it had his jaw tensing, resisting the urge to smirk. 

“come on, baby,” lando’s voice cut through your high, your naval tightening with a hot pressure. “know you’re close. can feel it.” 

he added a second finger, using his thumb to roll over your sensitive bundle of nerves. the stimulation was overwhelming, your throat raw with the carnal moans he drew from your depths. he’d be the only one to hear any of these ever again. he promised himself that much. 

your orgasm was imminent, the coil in your belly snapping with a hopeless yearning you’ve been deprived of for what feels like an eternity. slick covered the palm of his hand, and your eyes had locked onto his. he watched as you trembled with desire, legs twitched around his waist. with one quick move he brought his two fingers to your lips.

you knew what he wanted. 

you’ve never tasted yourself before. but your lips parted, and he lathered your slick over your tongue. you sucked in earnest over his calloused digits, lips puckering, cheeks hollowing. you swallowed, letting your tongue linger over his fingertips.

“now you know,” he whispered, clutching you tight. “why i can’t stay away.” for a brief moment, you thought he was mentioning because of the taste of your cunt. but with the deep look in his eyes, you knew it meant more. you were made for him. both in spirit and sensuality. 

lando spun you around from your seat atop the sink, having you flipped, staring at your reflection in the mirror. you look disheveled, and downright fucked. your feet met the ground, the palm of his hand spreading over the expanse of your back, flattening you to a ninety degree angle. 

“lift your hips for me, love,” you obeyed without second thoughts, rising to your tip toes as he ran his fingers along the underside of your thighs, pulling down the fabric of your panties. they hit the floor, and your cunt went rigid with the cold air. but you heard lando making fast work with his belt, his jeans, and you sifted back and forth. you even turned to look at him over your shoulder, lashes batting unintentionally at the spring of his cock against his lower belly. 

“missed this,” he breathed, saddling his hand at the base of your neck. you pushed into his hold, deepening the connection. 

your exhaustion didn’t impede your ability to get fucked. that was for sure. lando wasn’t going to spare a single effort on your behalf. he was riled, pent up, and now he wanted to see tears in your eyes as you were split open on his cock. it was a promise. 

“missed you.” you mumbled. lando’s hand tightened around the frontal base of your throat. 

“what was that?” 

you whimpered. “missed you!”

“atta girl.” he was pleased with your higher volume, and awarded you by edging the tip of his cock through your folds. you lurched forward, gripping onto the dish of the sink. a deep groan left you, and he gave you a grace period to adjust. but it took too long. you wanted him deep. bottomed out. until there was nothing else for you to give. 

“show me,” you grit your teeth. “show me he’s not good enough.” 

your words seemed to ignite a flame inside of lando that couldn’t be ignored. you felt him huff air, the sensation tickling your spine, and he thrust himself inside of you. forget a grace period, you were going straight to heaven. 

you moaned, his cock stimulating a perverse area inside your cunt that no man could ever reach. lando was out for blood to prove that he was the only man that could truly fuck you. and fuck you he would. 

the sound of skin slapping echoed through the bathroom. your moans intertwined with his mewls, creating an atmosphere derived from both of your pleasures alone. nothing would ever compare to this feeling. how he curved deliciously inside of you, how you tightened so mercilessly around his cock. he’d let himself run dry so he could feel your tight walls each night. 

the pressure of his hand around your throat didn’t relent. with his index and thumb squeezing at every point he bottomed out, you swore you were seeing stars. you were an irrecoverable mess in lando’s arms, and that’s just the way he wanted you. in the reflection of the mirror stared the fading marks that fucker left on your skin. but he was determined to make his own. and it was different that you’d let him. without a doubt, he could bite through your skin, make you bleed for all you fucking cared. 

“who’s fucking you this good?” lando asked, hand tightening briefly for your response. you were lost in your haze, unable to truly focus on his words. your brows furrowed. 

“you,” you said, breathless, clenching onto the sink with all your prospective might. 

“who?” he prodded further, opposite hand coming to rub at your clit. you seethed, breath tightening in your throat. tears burned at your retinas, the skillful work of his fingers bringing you to an oncoming orgasm. lando felt it, and paused his fingers. 

you whimpered, then looked at him in the mirror. he loomed like no man you’ve ever seen. darkened eyes, sweaty hair. fuck, he’s so hot. “you!” 

his fingers returned their assault on your clit, and you could feel the burning heat once more. you grinded hopelessly against the palm of his hand, which he responded as to pinching the bundle of nerves atop your cunt to with more pressure. 

it didn’t take long before you were keeling over the sink, his hand around your neck forcing you to arch before him. with your unbearably tight cunt, he came with you, filling you with hot ropes of cum. the feeling of him warm, vested in your walls brought you a comfort like nothing else. 

lando’s head fell forward with his heaving chest onto the base of your neck. his heart was beating so fast, you could feel it. you lifted yourself from the downward angle of the sink, his hands coming to steady you despite his exhaustion. 

“i lied to you before,” he spoke into the skin of your neck. too fucked out to really process what he was saying, you turned slightly to catch one of his eyes. “you aren’t a favorite.”

you frowned, still confused, heart feeling ripped open once more. 

“you’re the only girl.” 

you turned fully this time to face him. 

“what?”

“you heard me.” you did. that was true. but what you didn’t believe was true, was his words. 

“don’t…” you begged. “don’t play with me anymore, lan…” the nickname rolled off your tongue with ease. “i can’t…i can’t wait for someone who doesn’t…” love, “want me the same.”

lando brushed a stray hair from your forehead. he let himself lean into you. your bodies fit together perfectly. 

“what do you want, then?” 

your voice was caught in your throat. there was a million things you wanted, but there was only one thing you needed. 

“i need you.” 

need cut through his body like wild flower to barley. need was the mending his heart needed. need was the remedy of his uncertainties about you. 

his face upturned into a smile. 

“i can’t do this,” he said, taking a breath. “any of this, without you. need you here, with me,” with his forehead touching yours, you could feel his lashes against your browline. 

“lando…”

he shook his head. your name was soft on his tongue. “please, please, stay with me. i should’ve never left that hotel room. never.” 

your cheeks were wet. but they weren’t from your tears. his. his lip was quivering when you opened your eyes, his own shut as if he were too afraid to face you. 

and instead of answering him with words, you tilted your head up, and let your lips collide with his. torn into shock, lando’s eyes flew open, unbelieving of what was happening. you were kissing him. your lips on his, intimate. you wanted to be intimate with him, not just fuck him. 

his eyes fluttered shut, and his hand came to wrap around the back of your neck. he returned your kiss, tongue eager to explore the cavern of your mouth, and you let him. you had been afraid to let him kiss you, fearful that you would become addicted to this pleasure. 

you were right in your fear. there was never a universe where you wouldn’t be drunk on his tongue, craving his teeth clashing with your own. it was an ensued battle with your mouths, one you weren’t going to relent easily. but he remained victorious and let his tongue run over yours. the two of you were inseparable, body and spirit. 

there was finally a blasted knock on the bathroom door, which had you jumping. lando turned his head over his shoulder, and was quick to drop to his knees to roll your panties back up. 

“like you down there,” you commented from him on his knees. he turned to look at you with a knowing smirk, and kissed the skin of your thighs. when he stood at his full height, he adjusted his own pants, looking presentable enough. 

“beautiful.” he complimented, leaning in for a plethora of kisses. he kissed all around your mouth, your nose, your jaw, before he landed on your mouth.

“i love you,” he blurted out against your lips. you gaped at him and he was worried you wouldn’t feel the same. but the two of you knew this answer for a long, long time. 

your brows upturned. “i love you too.” 

his hand fell on your lower back, guiding you out of the bathroom. “guess you’re my girl now, yeah?” 

you slapped his bicep. “we have a lot to talk about, but for tonight…” you nodded. 

he was happy enough with that answer. 

“gotta let raphael down easy…” you mumbled as lando held the door open for you. 

“oh…!” he said in an exaggerated tone. “that’s what his name is.” 

taglist

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[vole-mon-amour]

3x12, Jamie edition, part 4.

Jamie is basically ruling this game at this point. My wonderful, wonderful boy. All this training. All that development through the seasons. I am so fucking proud of him.

You know what this reminds me of? "Hey Jamie! JAMIE! 🖕"

It was what, 1x022? 1x03? When Ted wanted Jamie to be like this and Jamie was like, "Is this a fucking joke? But no one is laughing. I'm not fucking doing this." And now? NOW??? LOOK AT HIM GO!!!!

They fit sooo many callbacks into this ep. I love it.

Jamie in the center of attention again. Jamie celebrating with Sam and the entire team cheering them on. Beard running towards them. I want to grab them all in one huge hug.

Just what, a day or two ago a was begging for them to win, in a post about how important it is for me for Jamie to score? They did it. They fucking did it. ;_; I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

Ted celebrating with his previous team. Ted celebrating with this team. And look at Jamie. My boy.

Guys. How am I supposed to just let this show go? The thing that Jason created... Tears, just tears. The only piece of media that I was able to consume in 2021 and that got me through that year after my parents died. My goodness, it's everything.

He. Him. I'm gonna ignore the circumstances bc fuck that. Jamie deserves better.

But while I'm at it, Jamie needs therapy just as much as Roy. With his depression and PTSD it would only be right. Jamie probably needs meds, too. I want him to get better (and remove his abuser from him! Who fucking thought this was a good idea? Who thought to "forgive your abuser" is the right thing to do? I have questions to the writing room.)

Knee to knee, kiss already. I can feel so much Brett in this Roy, but I'm glad the boys are having fun together and seem to genuinely be very good friends.

Ooh, you make me live Whatever this world can give to me It's you, you're all I see Ooh, you make me live now, honey

That kind of thing. :) Now I can make edits, hehe.

Jamie being good friends with Rebecca? Are you kidding me? This is perfect. The height difference so that he has to tip toe :')

Also, Keeley in sneakers instead of high heels is such a wonderful development. Hell yeah, babe! Let your feet rest!

Roy was turning so for a second I thought he was going to join the hug and hug Jamie from behind. *deep sigh* Almost a kiss this season, almost a romantic hug. If only.

Soft boy. :') Such uncharacteristic, unusual look but yeah :')

So you can canonize this but not RJ and/or RJK? Really? Where did all the talk about Roy and Jamie being the best couple of the show go? Phil? Phil, I have questions.

But hey, for better or for worse, by weird feeling of Roy, Jamie, and Keeley all staying single seems to be working? Sure, they showed them all together, we can take it any way we like it. But I definitely see it more like Roy x Jamie at best and Keeley is focusing on her work. Roy and Jamie are sitting next to each other, very, VERY close & Keeley is a bit away from them. Hugging Phoebe :') She still loves that girl, obviously.

Lots to process, but if it IS the end of the show, I can basically make anything I want out of this. Which is still better than what they could've done, for which I'm still a tiny bit grateful. Didn't ruin it completely and thanks for that.

This isn't final thoughts, just some after the first watch. Gotta think on it and sleep on it and live for like a week on it.

[sleepynegress]

On Bly Manor (in Comparison to Lovecraft Country)....

Okay I wrote this sloppily beneath a cut earlier because I didn’t want to spoil. So, now that the weekend is up....

I’m rewriting my earlier meta on this show....  I like Mike Flannigan.  He gave me Abra in Doctor Sleep. The most casually powerful supernatural black girl I’ve seen in any mainstream movie.

He also crafted a heartrending love story in The Haunting of Hill House season, in which a black man, a physical therapist, was portrayed as gentle, soft, and a perfect partner to the favored baby-white girl in the season in Nellie... Helping her through her disabling sleep paralysis and subseqeunt panic attacks.

That said, in his pattern particularly with BiPOC characters... And making them exceptionally pure... He has provided the perfect example of what I was talking about when I said Lovecraft Country is shaking people, *because* the black characters are actually human.  ...Flawed, not perfect, but complex and how *that* is not only the real goal in media, but also that, that lack has distorted what an “empathy machine” is supposed to do, specifically when it comes to black characters. It was much more apparent this season, because he added more BIPOC characters in much more forward-roles. Obviously well-meaning.  ...But honestly, that purity,-that lack of complex humanity w/ flaws actually hindered his narrative a bit. People saying it wasn’t as good?  *This* is actually a big reason why. Remember how flawed and human that Crain family was and how we all fell in love with them *because* of those human flaws? But here in Bly Manor with a lot more BIPOC characters in major roles? They are pure: Hannah, Owen, and Rebecca.... and consequently less complex, less human, and less interesting.

There have been plenty of  “_____ deserved better!” shallow comments from white fans that I’m sure comforted them to say, as they avoided any complex analysis (because it isn’t there) and could easily move right into their comfort zone of settling into loving and empathizing w/ white characters, while feeling good about it, because they felt sorry for/weren’t mad at the those shallowly written BiPOC characters. And the thing is... It’s a Catch-22. Because I think that Mike Flannigan may even be half-aware (if even in the back of his mind) that if he didn’t make them exceptionally pure, it would not have acheived the same level of empathy from the white gaze. Every black fan knows what it is to love black character who gets evicerated by white fandoms for any show of a bad choice, vulnerability or even just existence. That said... Every single major white male character in Bly Manor is given *the most major* of flaws. ...But again, I think he did that because he knew he could, even if it’s a subconscious reflex, which I think it is. MAJOR points for making it explicitly clear that Peter was an unredeemable piece of shit. This was literally the first time I didn’t see toxic behaviour even slightly romanticized in narrative, or given a flattering angle or wink, in this kind of context. Like I saw the same kind of mind games Edward Cullen used, played out as a teachable “reality” (in this ghost story) for any young naive viewers who might romanticize it, given half a chance.  His tucked-in hell laid out the trauma and then the choice he had as an adult, rather than the excuse to be that same kind of toxic pro-gaslighter. AND I enjoyed seeing Hannah and Owen play into the reality of healthy “Love Comes Softly” type of love.  ...Soft blueflags, if you will. But it was written a bit too chaste (I think owing to them not being white, again subconsciously).  It didn’t have to be consumated or even get a kiss... But I would have appreciated some deliberate heated longing. 

I thought T’Nia Miller in particular subtlely bodied her role and her ep, but I lament what we could have also had, given a few more shades in her character and Owen’s. And then there’s Rebecca... *sigh*

Rebecca is so purely written, it’s hard to see why she stuck after certain point.  It actually lent the narrative a lack of believability, *because* of all the purity/lack of complexity that was set-up... That she stood by in those dark moments... Just couldn’t ring completely true. Even the gloriously adorable lead lesbian love story, w/ Dani and Jamie who I thought were also pure (but realistically so), Had.  Instory.  Flaws. Dani’s ex and Jamie’s rough background... And what did that do? Add to your empathy and rooting for their love. But Mike being skilled at pulling emotion did get me for that ep. 5 and those last two eps, even with the issues. ...And I was wetfaced. So, I know this was long.... But really this is to get this down so improvement can happen.

Because sure I cried for this.... But Lovecraft Country DESTROYED me within the same viewing time period, because it’s black characters better earned those story turns and emotions, because *none* are pure, but flawed and human.

P.S.

Damon Lindelhof PROVED that it is possible to render complex black characters even as a white man, w/ WATCHMEN.

And the reason?

Because he deliberately made that a goal and hired black writers/production BTS. So, I’m not saying it isn’t possible for a white person to do. Just that it takes humbling yourself enough to realize your gaze alone isn’t adequate and you need the people you are rendering in power, BTS.

[nunaya-business]

Let’s Talk About Steven Universe

*WARNING* This … “essay” has my opinions only. I am not speaking for the community, I am speaking for me because I like to express myself and there are people like @susanaaatc​ out there who like these kinds of discussions. So if you want, I’d like for others to give me their whole opinions on the show as well. Hell make a whole post about it like I did and tag me in it so that I can see your opinion. With all that stated, let’s get down to Bismuth.

So Steven Universe came out in 2013 and I was 11 years old at the time. I liked Regular Show and Adventure Time, not to mention I was obsessed with Rise of the Guardians and Monster High, so I was a bit preoccupied to watch the show. Eventually though, my best friend at the time talked about it constantly and she brought up the concept of fusion. She showed me the art book of the show that she bought and it showed how two completely different gems could fuse into one gem to become stronger. This is where my interest started, and it was the same concept that started pushing me away from SU later in it’s show run. 

So fusion in Steven Universe is mostly treated as a relationship, and it’s not always just romantic. It can be between two friends, it can be seen as a more sexual relationship between two gems, a romantic relationship, or a parent-child relationship like with Steg (Steven and Greg’s fusion). This is an amazing concept and I love it so much but… I’m not here to talk about what I like, I’m here to talk about what I dislike. 

One of the best characters in the show is Garnet. Garnet was revealed in season 2 (I think) to be a fusion between the two tiny gems Ruby and Sapphire, and Garnet is the manifestation of their love. She’s an amazing example of not only a healthy, respecting, and loving relationship between two people, but also is an amazing example of a healthy same-sex relationship. You see, Steven Universe uses “code” to represent something like race, gender, and age… But we’ll get to that later. My problem isn’t really with Garnet herself, but what Rebecca and the Crewniverse has made her in to. Many have said it before, and I agree. After her reveal as a fusion, Garnet was no longer the cool, collected, fun-in-her-own-way “mom” we knew before, she turned into a fusion, and a symbol for fusion, and a representation… of a fusion. After the reveal, all the crewniverse seemed to view Garnet as… was a fucking fusion! She lost a lot of personality in the 3rd and 4th seasons in my opinion and was really only used in the plot when it had something to do with fusion. To me it’s like having a friend group with only one Asian friend and the rest a different race, and then only inviting the Asian friend to hang out when you’re going to watch Anime, or a Kdrama. It’s a bit racist is it not? Just because you can relate a character to something in the plot does not mean that character has to be there. Maybe instead of putting Garnet in every fusion episode (with the exception of “Earthlings”) just mention her. She doesn’t have to be in every damn episode that has to do with the subject. 

A lot of people have an issue with Bismuth… and I can understand that. Let me explain why. “Coding” is what a creator of any media does to give the consumer an idea of a character’s personality, race, age, gender, etc, without it being too obvious. Off the top of my head I’ll state what I view the “coded” characters as.

 Garnet, Sapphire, Sugilite, and Bismuth are coded Black.

Amethyst to my knowledge is coded Hispanic or Latina or something like that.

Pearl, the Diamonds, Opal, and Rose Quartz are coded White.

Rainbow Quartz and Aqua Marine are coded White and British.

And I’m not sure about Peridot, Lapis and Jasper are supposed to be coded as.

So the race thing has brought up some issues. In the official artbook that I mentioned earlier there was a concept design for Concrete and the design was a little… oof. People weren’t very happy… lemme just show you.

So obviously people weren’t happy that good ol’ Concrete here looks like a blackface character from the early 20th century animations. And I agree it’s pretty bad, but I don’t think it was intentional. 

Some controversial things that come from the show (other than countries like Kenya being assholes and trying to act like LGBTQ doesn’t exist) are the portrayals of two specific characters, who also happen to be fusions, and I agree with most things people don’t like about them.

Let’s start with Stevonnie. Stevonnie is the nonbinary (but let’s be honest she’s a girl) fusion of Steven Universe and his love interest Connie Maheswaran (I had to look up how to spell her last name smh). They’re supposed to represent Steven and Connie’s closeness as best friends and their growing crushes on each other. Rebecca Sugar has also stated that they’re a representation of puberty…. Excuse me? Puberty must have went swell for you Sugar. There’s someone who made a video about why they hate SU, that person being the ever controversial Lily Orchard, and she covered why Stevonnie is just… honestly she’s waifu bait. I agree with probably everything Lily says about this character because… it’s true. Puberty seriously ain’t pretty, and it sure as hell ain’t sexy until after it’s done… sometimes. Also, Sugar is contradicting herself saying that the Crewniverse isn’t sexualizing two very under age kids because Stevonnie is Steven and Connie’s ages added up… which would make the fusion 26 years old… that’s a bit old for puberty Rebecca. It feels to me like they wanted to make a sensual character, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but they didn’t really want to add a new character so they just put the two love interests together. But that’s so fucking wrong. I’m sorry, but sexualizing Stevonnie, which they are doing btw, I will make a post if you question it, is like people shipping siblings or an underage person with someone way older than them and saying “it’s totally fine because they’re just characters” (*cough cough* Ereri *cough cough* Hitachiin shippers *cough*). If you’re going to use that excuse, but then get angry at people who don’t take the character seriously because they are just a cartoon, then you’re a hypocritical asshole. Sorry to tell you. Stevonnie is a very good character overall though. I’m just uncomfortable when they appear because they’re two kids in a trench-coat with curves like an anime schoolgirl and moves like someone who just successfully seduced a poor guy into giving them the secret to the Crabby Patty formula.

Now let’s move on to Steg, the fusion between father Greg Universe, and son Steven. There’s nothing wrong with them fusing because fusion in SU symbolizes a relationship, no matter what kind. However… why do two chubby men make a sex symbol rock idol??? That’s… that’s gross. Why the fuck is Steg so “hot”? Why on earth would you create a fusion out of a father and son and think it’s appropriate to sexualize them and make them gyrate their genitals like they’re an Elvis Presley impersonator? Just… WHY? Do I even have to explain why this is so wrong? Really? Honestly??? You can fuse Steven and Greg and not make it so sexual, but nah let’s give them rock hard abs, a humongous bulge a sharp jawline that neither of the two have, and a tight ass. What the actual fuck?? 

That’s not my biggest issue though. My biggest issue is giving the Nazi bitches a redemption ark smaller than my nonexistent cock. Endeavor from My Hero Academia is an absolute prick right? He abused his children, notably his youngest, and his wife, and is an absolute asshole to everyone, but he gets a redemption arch. Do you know why it makes sense though? First off because as far as we know Endeavor never committed genocide, and second because he’s not a Nazi, he’s an abuser. Abusers, whether we like to admit it or not, can eventually see the error of their ways and understand that what they’re doing is both wrong and that it doesn’t work. Endeavor is getting a redemption arch because he obviously loves his kids, he just doesn’t know how to show it because of some circumstances we may not know. 90% of the time an abuser was abused themselves growing up, so they grow up with that resentment and they go one of two ways. They see how wrong it is and knows that it won’t get them anywhere in life if they bully others to stay on top, or they think that since they went through it and came out alive, then others should go through it too. I should know, because my dad was from an abusive family, and he turned out fine(ish… long story) while his brother and sister are pieces of shit that can’t hold a job or a home because they’re too involved in criminal activity to do so. 

What does Endeavor from MHA have to do with the Space Nazi Diamonds in SU? Well people were sending Horikoshi Kohei death threats because he had the gull to redeem an asshole, and SU fans are pissed because Rebecca Sugar had the lady balls to “redeem” space Nazis. The difference being, you can be redeemed if you were an abusive cock, but not if you’re a genocidal bitch. There’s a huge difference. 

Rebecca and the Crewniverse giving the Diamonds a 4 episode redemption arch is absolutely abominable. Peridot’s redemption? Fucking amazing, beautiful, couldn’t have done it better myself. Jasper’s? It’s currently going amazing and they’re doing a great job keeping her in character while also making her likable and even a bit charming. Lapis? Oh… let’s talk about her shall we?

Lapis Lazuli’s character is an absolute disaster. She’s a cunt, she’s a horrible friend, and my god is she abusive! Lapis was supposed to be a sympathetic character, and for a while she was. You could feel bad for her because her gem was damaged and she was trapped in a mirror for thousands of years and when she’s finally released, you understand her want to go back home and why she took the Earth’s ocean to try and reach it. It was understandable when she didn’t want to break out of the prison ship because she was anxious and scared of being locked away for another thousand years. It was easier in her mind to just behave and wait. When Jasper convinced her to fuse with her Lapis didn’t really want to, but saw an opening for the freedom of the humans and mostly for Steven, the one person who saved her from hell. But then everything went south.

Lapis and Jasper were fused as Malachite for months, obviously in a very stressful “relationship”, and apparently a very abusive one as well. When they were finally able to unfuse, Lapis was played off by the Crewniverse as a victim of abuse. This may be half true. After all we don’t know exactly what happened with them at the bottom of the ocean. What we do know however is that Lapis admitted to being abusive. This makes her an abuser. She described how it made her feel happy to abuse Jasper, or “taking my anger out” on her. She admitted to abuse and the Crewniverse still painted her as a victim. They’re both victims of abuse, and they’re both abusers. But that’s not what makes Lapis a horrible person… gem…

Lapis is a cunt… again. It’s okay to be antisocial, it’s okay to be cautious and stand-offish because you’ve been trapped, imprisoned and used so many times. What’s not okay is being a bitch to people trying to comfort or make friends with you, or try to cheer you up. Poor Peri, she was just trying to make amends and comfort Lapis after her whole ordeal with Jasper. Peri offered the cunt the thing that helped her organize her thoughts, the thing that calmed her in situations that made her anxious, the thing that comforted her and the first gift given to her by her first friend and the first person that listened to her thoughts, and the cunt destroyed it. She destroyed Peri’s recorder right in front of her, calling it garbage. Oh and the abuse doesn’t stop there, it only really began, because when shit started to hit the fan, instead of helping each other through it, Lapis abandoned Peridot and took the home they shared. Without a single thought she just took it and abandoned her, and it devastated Peri. I don’t remember her apologizing, and if she did it doesn’t matter because if I don’t remember then it must not have been very sincere. 

I’m sick of spitting negative shit so I’m gonna end this here. Personally I’ve been liking the last few episodes, but I’m not too confident that the finale is gonna be satisfying. Those are my thoughts, do with it as you will, but for God’s sake be fucking adults about it. If you don’t got the guts to curse without saying “h3ll” or “pu$$y” or something like that then you’re not mature enough to respond to this. I’m not gonna argue with 9-year-olds. I’ll only have a conversation with mature people.

[ellyvator]

2!

2. How did you discover your sexuality, tell your story?

Okay, so. I technically am still “discovering” it in the sense that I’m not sure what words to call myself. Without a label, it can be described as “primarily/almost exclusively attracted to women, but technically also nonbinary people too, but at this point I’d prefer to pursue a relationship with a woman.”

I used to only like men, as you do under obligatory heterosexuality. But, at the same time, I totally loved women and HAD NO IDEA about it. I’d think about girls and think about kissing them, but no where in my baby gay brain did that register as Something Not Straight. Now, I know that I have no romantic capabilities towards men, but my physical attraction does, to a limited extent, include them. Anyone of any gender can have any body, so... 

I finally realized my feelings towards women in 8th grade. There was a girl in gym class and uhhhhh I had a Huge crush. Can’t remember how I identified at that point, but I knew that I definitely liked girls—especially this girl. So, I guess she is how I initially discovered my sexuality? 

I eventually called myself bi, and then realized I Did Not like men (didn’t know about NB things yet) and //kind of// called myself a lesbian, but was unsure about it and sided with plain old “gay.” Blah blah blah then queer, then polysexual, AND THEN I realized there was a difference between my romantic and sexual identities, which was very important to me to specify, so I stuck with polyromantic pansexual for a good while. Until I felt the term lesbian tugging at me once again. 

For the past few years, I’ve felt a deep, emotional kinship, in a way, with lesbians. And more recently with the term wlw. Consuming wlw and lesbian media, interacting with the communities, identifying so strongly with it, but unsure if I’m allowed to identify as it. I don’t know yet if I’m allowed to be a lesbian or wlw, if those communities would see me as one of their own. Or, if I am allowed, do I actually want to? It’s been hard. 

I look to Rebecca Sugar, Cameron Esposito, and all the nonbinary lesbians out there for inspiration. They are the few places where I can piece myself together. Rebecca with her coming out as a nonbinary woman and what that means to her, Cameron with being a cis lesbian and acknowledging that she has attraction to nonbinary individuals, and NB lesbians for being accepted within the lesbian community (as far as I’ve seen) or at least common enough that I see those combined identifiers all that time. 

So, how did I discover my sexuality? Final answer TBA. Someone come save me and tell me who I am lol.

[an-ephemeral-blog]

Linkspam #4

Top Links

How to Not Die in America by Molly Osberg at Splinter News:

On that second Tuesday in June 2017, I found myself in what I worry could be a fleeting moment in my life, one in which the institutions around me find it advantageous to protect  rather than screw me. I find it baffling that, since my illness, well-meaning people have repeatedly referred to me as a “survivor,” as if the fact that I got to go on with my life had to do with some inherent moral strength, rather than the material forces put in motion long before I got sick.

The Many Lives of Pauli Murray by Kathryn Schultz at the New Yorker:

Murray’s silence about her gender and sexuality is striking, because she otherwise spent a lifetime insisting that her identity, like her nation, must be fully integrated. She hated, she wrote, “to be fragmented into Negro at one time, woman at another, or worker at another.”

Yet every movement to which Murray ever belonged vivisected her in exactly those ways.

Socialism As A Set Of Principles by Nathan J. Robinson at Current Affairs:

The instinct that “people should be able to shape their own destinies” leads socialists to endorse what I think is the core meaning of “democracy,” namely the idea that people should have decision-making power over those things that affect them. If we think people’s choices should be valued, then they should be included in decision-making that affects them.

Hence all this business about the “means of production.” The workers in an auto plant are strongly affected by the decision as to whether or not it should close and move production elsewhere. Yet because they do not “own” it (i.e. have any decision-making power), the choice will be made without the participation of those it will impact most. This violates the core principle of democracy. The whole reason socialists are critical of the concentration of private property in few hands is that it constitutes a concentration of socially consequential decision-making power.

How The ACORN Scandal Seeded Today’s Nightmare Politics by Zach Carter and Arthur Delaney at Huffington Post:

ACORN had survived for more than 40 years. Its sudden collapse was a defining moment in 21st century American politics. The explosive cocktail of racism, dishonesty, incompetence and cowardice that brought down the organization reveals as much about Washington Democrats as it does about the conservative movement. It marked the Republican Party’s full transition from the coded winks and nods of Richard Nixon’s “Southern strategy” to the bellicose white nativism that defines Donald Trump, and it exposed a Democratic Party establishment unprepared for dirty tricks in the Digital Age and unwilling to defend many of the black voters and activists it claimed to represent. 

The Spy Who Came Home by Ben Taub in the New Yorker:

[O]ver the years he came to believe that counterterrorism was creating more problems than it solved, fuelling illiberalism and hysteria, destroying communities overseas, and diverting attention and resources from essential problems in the United States.

Meanwhile, American police forces were adopting some of the militarized tactics that Skinner had seen give rise to insurgencies abroad. “We have to stop treating people like we’re in Fallujah,” he told me. “It doesn’t work. Just look what happened in Fallujah.”

The epic mistake about manufacturing that’s cost Americans millions of jobs by Gwynn Guilford at Quartz:

Thanks to a painstaking analysis by a handful of economists, it’s become clear that the data that underpin the dominant narrative—or more precisely, the way most economists interpreted the data—were way off-base. Foreign competition, not automation, was behind the stunning loss in factory jobs. And that means America’s manufacturing sector is in far worse shape than the media, politicians, and even most academics realize.

Inside the Massive U.S. 'Border Zone' by Tanvi Misra at Citylab:

Agents can enter private property, set up highway checkpoints, have wide discretion to stop, question, and detain individuals they suspect to have committed immigration violations—and can even use race and ethnicity as factors to do so.

That’s striking because the border zone is home to 65.3 percent of the entire U.S. population, and around 75 percent of the U.S. Hispanic population, according to a CityLab analysis based on data from location intelligence company ESRI. This zone, which hugs the entire edge of the United States and runs 100 air miles inside, includes some of the densest cities—New York, Philadelphia, and Chicago.

Other Favorites

Science

This Roman ‘gate to hell’ killed its victims with a cloud of deadly carbon dioxide by Colin Barras at Science Magazine

The Framingham Heart Study and the epidemiology of cardiovascular disease: a historical perspective by Syed S Mahmood, Daniel Levy, Ramachandran S Vasan, and Thomas J Wang in the Lancet (full text here) - this article describes how the death of President Franklin Roosevelt from heart disease impacted cardiovascular research in this country

Twitter thread by Ask An Entomologist @BugQuestions - “What we now call 'queen' bees-the main female reproductive honeybees-were erroneously called 'kings' for nearly 2,000 years. Why?“

Diary of a Local Data Reporter by Rachel Alexander at Source - “Telling the story of health care workers dying from opioid overdoses in Spokane, Washington“

Method to identify undetected drug suicides wins top NIDA Addiction Science Award at the NIH website - what the post title fails to mention is that the method was discovered by a pair of high school girls.  Hell yeah, teenage science nerds making the world a better place. <3

Tech

Inclusion Riders in Tech by Nicole Sanchez at Medium and, conversely, Sorry, Hollywood. Inclusion Riders Won’t Save You by Rebecca Chapman at the New York Times

Stop Being Sexist, Siri at One Foot Tsunami - an example of algorithmic bias vis-a-vis the devaluation of women’s sports

The Aggregator Paradox by Ben Thompson at Stratechery - Facebook, Google, and their relationship with publishers and advertisers

Double Buffer by Robert Nystrom in Game Programming Patterns - a delightfully clear explanation of the kind of problem double buffering solves (graphics rendering in games) and how to implement it

The Universal Design Pattern by Steve Yegge at their personal blog - a long, detailed, and admittedly decade-old pitch for the properties design pattern

Four cents to deanonymize: Companies reverse hashed email addresses by Gunes Acar at Freedom to Tinker

Georgia bill could stifle the state’s booming cybersecurity community by Seth Rosenblatt at The Parallax - yet another example of why legislators at all levels need more technical experts on their staff

Amazon threatens to suspend Signal's AWS account over censorship circumvention by moxio0 on the Signal blog

Invisible asymptotes by Eugene Wei at Remains of the Day - designing social media and other software products for growth

12 Fractured Apps by Kelsey Hightower at Medium - a practical guide to implementing 12FA philosophy when using Docker

Politics

America’s poor subsidize wealthier consumers in a vicious income inequality cycle by Aaron Klein at The Brookings Institution

Markets aren’t natural: governments have to make them work by Steven K. Vogel at OUPBlog

Black Teens Have Been Fighting for Gun Reform for Years by Lincoln Anthony Blades in Teen Vogue

The Persistence of Tyranny by Ken White at PopeHat - “Tyranny is mouthing platitudes about liberty while cheering its suppression. Tyranny is our capacity to rationalize exceptions to rights for our enemies. Tyranny is our willingness to dismiss violation of rights as unimportant or minimal. Tyranny sold you your morning coffee.”

How the Democrat’s Corrupt Congressional Pay-to-Play Machine Sabotages Progressives and the Popular Will by Yves Smith at naked capitalism

How Conflicts (Don’t) End by Richard English at Lawfare - four elements of conflict resolution as exemplified by the Northern Ireland peace process

Why Are White Men Stockpiling Guns by Jeremy Adam Smith at Scientific American

We have to build the future out of the past by Quinn Norton at emptywheel - “This is the myth of the truth of the moment — that we are powerful beyond our own understanding, and broken and angry within our dysfunctional family.”

In A World That Polices Black Movement, ‘Black Boys Dance Too’ Is Revolutionary by By Ja’han Jones at Huffington Post

Inside Russian Women’s Fight For Their Lives by Madeline Roache at The Establishment - how legislation decriminalizing domestic abuse has made life even worse for women in Russia

Seniors Are More Conservative Because the Poor Don’t Survive to Become Seniors by Ed Kilgore at NYMag

History

Becoming Trans: Transgender Identity In The Middle Ages by zac clifton at Medium

Heroes, Identity and the Realm of History by Meg Foster at JHIBlog - on the Australian semi-mythic figure of the ‘bushranger’

Rethinking the “Lessons” of the First World War by Michael Neiberg at Lawfare

Misc

Why dictators find the lure of writing books irresistible by Lucy Hughes-Hallett at New Statesman - a review of a book which is itself a series of reviews of books by Stalin, Lenin, Mao, Mussolini, etc.

What Fullness Is by Roxane Gay at Medium - Gay writes about getting weight loss surgery

The non-profit that figured out how to massively cut suicide rates in Sri Lanka, and their plan to do the same around the world by Robery Wilbin at 80,000 hours - this title is wildly misleading but the content is interesting

Words Matter by Siderea on Dreamwidth - Small changes in language can have big effects.

“Who Do You Think You Are?”: When Marginality Meets Academic Microcelebrity by Tressie McMillan Cottom in Ada: A Journal of Gender, New Media, and Technology

Black Issues in Philosophy: A Conversation on Get Out at the APA Blog - an analysis of the film Get Out by political theorist Derefe Kimarley Chevannes and philosopher Lewis Gordon

A Landslide of Classic Art Is About to Enter the Public Domain by Glenn Fleishman at The Atlantic - I’m so excited, you guys!  For the first time in my adult life, we’re going to get a mass release of public domain material!  If Disney doesn’t get to it first, anyway.

The Rise and Fall of Dr. M. by Bernd Kramer at Elephant in the Lab - a story of academic fraud

Short & Sweet: Change Makers by forestofglory at ladybusiness - a short list of short stories about ordinary people making political change, all available to read for free online

Tendrils of Mess in our Brains by Srah Perry at ribbonfarm - what makes a mess a mess?

When does your company stop paying women in 2018? by Josh Holder, Alexandra Topping, Caelainn Barr and Antonio Voce at The Guardian - an interactive map

nontoxic masculinity by Katie at her personal blog - lifting up examples of non-toxic masculinity

“When Tables Speak”: On the Existence of Trans Philosophy by Talia Mae Bettcher at Daily Nous

A Deep Dive into the Harris-Klein Controversy by John Nerst at Everything Studies - an extremely thorough and thought-provoking analysis of someone else’s debate (bonus follow-up post)

I’m Not Black, I’m Kanye by Ta-Nehisi Coates - as a white person I don’t feel comfortable opining on this except to say it’s really, really worth reading

The Nice Cop by Nick Slater at Current Affairs - “Is this because cruel people become cops, or because becoming a cop makes people cruel? I used to think the answer was obvious, until I watched my friend kill a man on Facebook Live.”

[thesinglesjukebox]

HAIKU HANDS - NOT ABOUT YOU [7.12] Let's get bratty...

Will Adams: What it is about: the thwacking intro from Onuka's latest stormer, brattiness distilled from decades of the stuff, from Gillette to Icona Pop, the brashness of M.I.A.'s underrated Maya and, lest you get too serious about it all, the enduring credo of "CHIIIIIIIILL." [9]

Claire Biddles: Bratty shout-a-longs are best when their attitude is met with charm, and "Not About You" has heaps of attitude and heaps of charm: in its wild rhymes ("I'm going to tear up the lexicon with a hexagon and my sexy thong on"!!) and their delivery; heavily accented and with just the right amount of comic timing. This sits between "Mind Your Own Business" by Chicks On Speed and "Trouble" by Shampoo on my getting-ready-to-go-out playlist and it has already served as the precursor of innumerable nights of dancing and shouting and drinking cheap white wine, which I think Haiku Hands would deem appropriate. [9]

Tim de Reuse: Sounds like a bunch of friends having a blast, and it's infectious; the occasional sections where it sounds like they're just throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks ("I'm gonna kick your arse...") are far outweighed by lines like "You look like a tortoise / Your issues are enormous," which is possibly the most fucking incredible rhyme I've heard in my entire life. [7]

Alfred Soto: Imagine Tom Tom Club or the Raincoats over the crummiest drum program they could find. "You look like a tortoise/Your issues are enormous" is funny because it's true and funny because it's funny. "Not About You" should be twelve minutes long. [7]

Iain Mew: I haven't heard something new like this since the UK industry decided to pretend The Ting Tings never happened. I'd welcome the return even if Haiku Hands didn't bring even more scrappy energy and such great brags and threats to kick arse. [7]

Katie Gill: I mean it's cute? But cute can only go so far, especially when the song just seems too juvenile. The way of singing (cheering?) is a schoolyard chant that occasionally matches the schoolyard chant lyrics. The beat just sounds basic and dull, like someone just discovered this fun setting on the keyboard to use. I'm certain that if you're drunk and screaming along with it then this is the best song in the world, and I can see why this would have appeal. But then again, I thought the Ting Tings were just okay when they first came on the scene as well. [5]

Nortey Dowuona: Bouncy, echoey drums, rubbery and light of foot bass bounce together with scatterings of synths and bubbles and noises as Haiku Hands hi-five, dap and secret handshake across the beat. [6]

Brad Shoup: I thought they were laying the shut ups too softly, but the track's less shit-talk than trash talk. It's nearly as posi as prime youth crew, but the punks couldn't rhyme.  [6]

Jonathan Bradley: Haiku Hands give 2017 its own update of Confidence Man, but while the electro thunk remains rudimentary, the sass is more fun this time around. You can go a long way with a Fight Like Apes-level couplet like "you look like a tortoise/your issues are enormous." [6]

Ian Mathers: Some of the lines are a bit whiffed, but that infectious chorus chanting (complete with plenty of slight shifts in meter) redeems a multitude of sins. Which is why the middle here, where they go too long without it, drags a little. It's no "I Love It," but what is? [6]

Maxwell Cavaseno: It's a sign of the times really. The 00s version of white-girl electro-rap was all about the ironic detached nihilism pose of Uffie where everything was like, the coolest post-Kittin bomb-out of sick parties that sounded both more glamorous and more sordid than the hollow reality of what actually happened. Now, in the 2010s, we get a hollow sort of ideological boasting, solidarity as pep rally which is meant more as some kind of shield rattle than any offer of strength or genuine unity. You can hear in its industrial pulse, the grinding and pressing of many a "Queen of ___" meme ready to be imposed and impressed on any subject regardless of worth or merit, just to say they can. Frankly, one would just hope the music might do something a little different between then and now as well. [2]

William John: I suspect my submission of a blurb for this song contravenes its titular tenet. But I thought it worth mentioning that an aesthetic of "zippy shout-a-long to something that scans like a sped up instrumental of M.I.A. and Afrikan Boy's 'Hussel'" is one I wholeheartedly support. [8]

Will Rivitz: It's the last week of the semester where I'm at, and stress is approaching untenable levels. This song's making me want to throw my textbooks on the library floor and stomp out, making as big a ruckus as I can. It's impossible to put into words how unreasonably humongous this song is - try to encompass it in any manner and it immediately bursts the seams of whatever you're futilely attempting to contain it with. This grabs all the best elements of Justice, Erol Alkan, Boys Noize, Shiny Toy Guns, and really anyone else who caused a nuclear reaction by fusing synthpop and electro, and shoots them into the stratosphere with the force of a cannonball. [9]

Rebecca A. Gowns: At last, we get 2017's very own Gravy Train!!!! Fun as hell and makes me feel 15 years younger. (And then, like an ancient crone, I have to stop my frenetic dancing when I start wheezing for breath.) [9]

Stephen Eisermann: "212" by Azealia Banks without the lyrical bite, but just as fun to dance to. I haven't wanted to go to a gay club in quite some time, but now all I want to is drink too much, pop something I shouldn't, and get sweaty on a dance floor with my boyfriend. [8]

Julian de Valliere: The past two years have been an amazing time (at least in terms of quality) for pop music, but they've also been a not-entirely-stellar time for me. I'm gay, brown, and fighting every day to somehow crawl out of this homophobic hellhole of a country that I so foolishly decided to get born into. This means that I spend a good part of my time retreating into frothy pop tunes that can afford me some respite from what's typically an emotionally exhausting day. It also means that when it comes to the media I consume, I don't really subscribe to the idea of separating the person from the product. Needless to say, it's been fairly garbage having to accept just how little pop stars care about the things that matter to me. As the planet reveals itself to be even bleaker than I imagined, songs that previously brought me comfort have become tainted by the actions - or inaction - of the people performing them. New releases don't fare any better. No matter how desperately I need to escape into those earworms, the voice at the back of my head just won't let me forget how one-sided these relationships are. And it stings. It stings because I have no fond memories left, it stings because I can't make new ones, it stings to watch other people enjoy these songs unphased, because they have these beautiful, vibrant, synth-heavy safe spaces to escape into and I don't, because whenever I try to step inside, I can only notice how the guest list has my name directly below the host's favourite homophobe. And every tweet, stream, download, and new chart peak reminds me that I'm in a spectacular minority of people being affected by this, and it's so intensely isolating that I'm still not entirely sure how to put it into words. So yes, that's not ideal. And at the same time, I know I'm not the only person having a rough time. There are so many people who aren't being spoken for, who maybe I haven't even thought of myself, and being aware of that stings too. And that's what makes all this kumbaya bullshit being peddled by supposedly progressive acts so infuriating. No one should have to sit down and have a meal with someone who'd rather just spit in their drink. If someone's being wilfully ignorant, they don't deserve a seat at the table. They don't even deserve a polite "just so you know" in a corner of the room. They deserve to be told to shut the hell up, as forcibly and loudly as possible, preferably with a megaphone involved, until the entire building reverberates with the shock of just how wrong they are. And that's what "Not About You" does. I know Haiku Hands aren't singing for me either, but I'm so ridiculously glad that at least a few other people have been given somewhere to run to whenever they need it. And I'm also glad it's such a full throttle banger, because if you need the defence that Haiku Hands put up, god knows you deserve some fun too. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[ahill052-blog]

Proposal for my Final Project

Hill, Ana 

ART 3647C 

Module 11 

So, for my final project; I want to expand off of the work I was doing for our first project. The goal of my project is to create creative marketing for my Etsy shop, “This Girls Kitsch” thats cohesive across the social media platforms that I utilize for my business (Etsy, Instagram, and Pinterest). The reason I want to focus in on this is: I know Im going to be investing a lot of time into this project. So, I wanted to put myself in the position to treat this as if I was creating this for a hypothetical “client”. Trying to figure out how to communicate my branding has been a really big puzzle for me- How do I convince a consumer that my handmade ceramic magnets are more than just a utilitarian item? Since I view my magnets as “art” I thought, using art to showcase my art would produce a strong appeal. I’ve just started working with a very talented illustrator on creating my shop logo so, now is really the time when I have to get my branding figured out and in place.

So, my basic idea(s) - I want to do a series since I am going to be creating GIFs- are

Flash Cards; using three of the magnet types I regularly produce I want to do “flash card” GIFs where I start with a singular animal, than two, than a group ( as detailed bellow) :

-Kitty -Kitties -Kindle

-Fawn -Fawns -Herd

-Unicorn -Unicorns -Blessing

Some Inspiration that went into this thought: 

The challenge(s) Im anticipating with this set are: -Incorporating the text into the GIF -Planning out the movement of the pieces; breaking them down enough to create an effortless looking stop motion piece. And, that could get extra tricky when I start introducing the groups of each animal type.

2. I also want to do two GIFs to compliment the flash cards; The first would be the fawn magnets meandering through a surface of paper flowers ( that I’ll construct) and creating the effect of the flowers all blossoming in around the deer. The second would be writing out my shop name “This Girls Kitsch” in yarn and using one of my Kitty magnets to unravel the text into a big yarn pile around the kitty. Creating the sense of a kitten is playing with the yarn.

Some Inspiration that went into this thought:

The Challenges Im anticipating with these two are: -Planning both out in reverse to be able to create the effects I want because after watching several tutorials on stop motion, Im realizing the vast majority are shot backwards (so to speak!)

Some over all challenges for the project that Im anticipating are:

-Finding the correct tripod for my camera. The first time I attempted this I did it hand held- it really did have an impact on my final outcome and made me realize I HAVE to have my camera completely stationary the entire time. I did play with that a bit already, and uploaded one of my tests to my tumblr to share with this proposal. 

-LIGHTING!!! Theres a few different ways that I could shoot these things but, more than likely Ill be shooting it from above the subject. So figuring out the correct placement of lights is a big concern for me and I would love any insight you guys may have. In the past I’ve always used natural light but especially since stop motion can be time consuming, thats not a feasible option (in terms of consistency.)

Artists Im looking to are:

INSA’s  GIF art and Rebecca Mock’s GIF works- I love their color palates and that they have a more feminine aesthetic.

I also searched for some stop motion videos:

While this one doesn’t have the most fluid movement, the artist does capture the colorful type of whimsy aesthetic Im going for:  https://youtu.be/yUUAlA4uuYI

This one is completely different subject manner but they utilize some text and the motion is very fluid looking: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8dTBthEEvA

This one, I love the story involved in it and the sense of “play”. Its too dark to really be a good aesthetic goal for me but, its a good reference for brainstorming: https://youtu.be/mwX7uEiEWx4

This Red Bull ad has a good story line and a strong sense of play : https://youtu.be/pTo-c7bR7wI

This video got my inspired to think about using audio and how I could expand my ideas further: https://youtu.be/HJh4nzf-0hI

Resources for Ideas: http://www.totallyuselessknowledge.com/natural.php (where I got my group name for some of the animals) http://pets.thenest.com/common-noun-group-kittens-8659.html  (where I got my group name for some of the animals)

Resources to help with execution:

1.Stop Motion App: http://www.cassiedahl.com/2016/04/stop-motion-made-easy.html 2. Stop Motion using just an I Phone: https://www.thepapercurator.com/thepapercurator//stop-motion-animation-with-just-an-iphone 3. https://tinkerlab.com/easy-stop-motion-animation-kids/ 4. https://youtu.be/knLaovT6L0E 5. https://youtu.be/HSFoLX3GhVY

Tools I plan on using:

Iphone (Sorry! I don't have a snazzy camera!)

Im considering the Stop Motion App

If that doesn’t work than I’ll use the GIF App

Photo Shop for any photo editing and addition of font 

A tripod

Lighting 

Paper Flowers

Yarn

My magnets 

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[bigjohnsadventuresintravel]

Summer Scenes in the Port City of Ibiza

Of all the Balearic islands, Ibiza is the one that most often comes to mind when considering that go-to-place for some serious fun in the sun. This archipelago of Spain is well known for its lively nightlife, electronic music,  and spectacular beaches. The island has become a playground for the rich and famous from around the globe; attracting the likes of Justin Beiber, Orlando Bloom, and more. But if the party scene isn’t exactly your thing, don’t allow Ibiza’s rambunctious reputation to steer you clear from her friendly shores. Ibiza is also home to quiet villages, superb restaurants, great shopping, and an entire fortified city full of fascinating history.

  It was a beautiful summer day in June when Rebecca and I took to exploring the streets of this Mediterranean hotspot. With a Spanish sun bearing down on us hard, tanktops and shorts became the order of the day!

  That magnificent statue on the rock is a spitting image of me… Only I’m a lot taller in real life!

  Aww, what a sweetheart!…. Copycat!

  This Spanish coastline is arguably one of the most beautiful places in the world!

  Hey, pretty baby! Are you heading my way?

  Rebecca rests on the seawall with a glimpse of Ibiza Old Town in the backdrop.

  Look at those yachts! Clearly Ibiza is a playground for the rich and famous!

  I believe this Smartcar belonged to Ken & Barbie. I could almost shove this thing inside of my backpack! Geez!

  This colorful scene almost made me think I was experiencing a migraine!

  Oh yeah, I’m seeing lots of lovely sights on this island!

  Big John pierside in Ibiza.

  Big John on the base of Ibiza’s Seafarers Monument

This monument honors local seafarers who rescued passengers and crew aboard the ill-fated S.S. Mallorca. The ship wrecked off of the Ibiza coast in 1930.

  Rebecca poses in front of the monument honoring Vara de Rey.

Although General Joaquin Vara del Rey fought against American forces in the Spanish-American War, his courage on the battlefield was greatly respected by both sides of the conflict.  In 1898, American forces buried Vara de Rey with full miltary honors after he fell to them in battle.

  Big John strolling through Ibiza’s Plaza de la Vila.

    I have an angel who doesn’t wear any wings… but if you did want to pin some on and fly us up to the top… this hike is really turning out to be quite a climb!

    These pictures don’t even begin to explain the charm of this place. To experience it first-hand should be included on everyone’s bucket list!

  This picture here captures all of the beauty and splendor of this Spanish Island town.

  Overlooking the tiled rooftops and stone archways of Ibiza’s famed Old Town.

  She’s my little “flor del amor”. That’s Spanish for “flower of love”.

    A view of the Cathedral of Santa Maria perched atop Ibiza’s fortified Dalt Vila.

    Rebecca stops for a pose on the narrow and winding cobbled streets.

    Rebecca stands on the stairs leading to the top of  Ibiza’s Dalt Vila  (Upper Town).

  This picturesque setting could easily find its way to the scene of a jigsaw puzzle.

  The archaic 16th century Renaissance walls of Dalt Vila slope downwards towards the sprawl of modern civilization. 

  I find that high places helps alleviate some of the symptoms of my “short-man complex”. 

  A monument honoring the spread of Christianity rests near the chapel walls.

    The panoramic views afforded at the top of this fortified city made the laborous climb wholly worthwhile!

    Big John embraces his amazing wife with the Celebrity Reflection cruiseship moored in the background.

    Rebecca found it fascinating that somebody actually built their home inside of these rocks.

  This was one of those times I wish I had brought along a bit of snorkel gear. These waters were quite a sight to behold!

  This water was calling my name! It’s about time we find the beach!

  Sorry ladies, my washboard abs sailed away with that cruise ship I was on… along with all of that beer and cake I consumed over my last week at sea!

  It wasn’t all that hard finding the beach; although it was rather difficult finding my way off of it. Rebecca blindfolded me and made me walk backwards after discovering a few of the women sunbathing weren’t wearing any tops.

  After a fun but exhausting trek in the heat, these two thirsty travelers were in desperate search of a drink!

  I was afraid we had taken a wrong turn and had gotten lost. Luckily we stumbled upon these signs to show us the way!

  Rebecca poses outside the Hard Rock Cafe, Ibiza.

  My girl doesn’t care much for beer, but she was pretty pleased to find this Hard Rock served up a refreshing Strongbow cider!

  Big John & Rebecca enjoying a drink inside the Hard Rock Cafe, Ibiza, Spain.

Our summer day spent in Ibiza passed by way too quickly to see and do everything we had hoped to. It’s doubtful we would’ve experienced all that this Mediterranean island has to offer had we remained here a year or more. I hope these pictures we shared with you captured some of the essence of this old Spanish town. At the very least, I hope we inspired you to get out with that “special someone”, have some adventure of your own, and go see the world.

Thank you for reading my article and I hope you visit my site again soon. Feel free to explore other areas of my blog, leave a comment, and show some love on social media.

Happy travels,

Big John

[sushimuu-blog]

Jacob Sartorius Tour T Shirts Times 2017

jacob sartorius tour t shirts is doing a better job than most, although the leap from social media sensation to pop star isn't easy. In the last couple of days, Jacob Sartorius fans have discovered the video and launched a full on assault upon Clauda's Instagram and Twitter accounts. Step Two: According to the Heat n Bond directions remove the Heat n Bond backing off of the 2 heart pieces and iron on the shirt. Almost half of people aged 18-39 have broken up with a partner on or around Valentine's Day, according to an Australian survey of 1200 young adults. Not merely is Jacob Sartorious sketchy af in terms of prices his merch, Jacob isn't even his true name! They'll take pleasure in the play on terms along with the edgier design, all although experiencing some enjoyable commemorating Valentine's Working day. From the video clip, the girl, Clauda Erazo, is noted cosying as much as Jacob in a very quick, five secondly clip.

Why not check out our Funny Valentines Day Poems which provides great fun if you're looking for a bit of humour and inspiration. Around 400 individuals at RetailMeNot look for the internet each day for the greatest bargains - so you don't have to. Dress in this I Adore Peace t-tee shirt and get her when she'd prefer to meet up to go about totally free conversation and fewer conflicts. Will have everyone enjoying the Valentine's Day celebration, although these love bugs are cute homemade valentines that require just a few supplies and a few minutes to make! And share your photographs with me on Instagram , so i could see your sugary young boys in their Valentine's Working day fasten tees. This Build-it-yourself enjoy message bunting strategy is not difficult to recreate at home and will prove to add lots of festivity to your residence. Cancelled a overall performance by Jacob in June after about 1,500 individuals converted up to see him but the venue was too small, reported Variety. We'd suggest just putting on the t-shirt and consuming the bacon separately but it's your contact.

His style is a lot less 100 % pure pop and consists of more of an endeavor to interest the trendy hop and rap aspect of Best 40. Though obviously influenced by Bieber too, Sartorius swaggered confidently to the phase wearing a set of aviators, almost exhibiting a hint of Kanye in the booming cosmetic. And, once the movie is actively playing why we did not watch your messages with him, indicating a well known fact that you just photoshopped it. Jacob is a wonderful person! And in case you don't notice a shirt layout right here that really works, we can produce a customized Valentine's tee shirt for you way too! If you forget about to mirror the words when you go to use these to your t-tshirt it won't function.

Regardless of whether you're organising a intimate evening meal for 2, including a roaring blaze along with a wonderful bottle of wine, or simply buying in and observing aged motion pictures, you'll get a lovable top rated at Aged Navy. Even though you're not technically in the connection doesn't indicate you need to commit Valentine's working day by itself. In the design clinical you will find thousands of pieces of clip artwork, which include a good amount of hearts and minds as well as other Valentines Day designed photos. At Older Navy, you'll find adorable valentine clothes to match any fashion or body type.

However, in the last couple of days, Jacob Sartorius fans have discovered the video and launched a full on assault upon Clauda's Instagram and Twitter accounts. Step Two: According to the Heat n Bond directions remove the Heat n Bond backing off of the 2 heart pieces and iron on the shirt. Almost half of people aged 18-39 have broken up with a partner on or around Valentine's Day, according to an Australian survey of 1200 young adults. Not simply is Jacob Sartorious sketchy af in terms of prices his merch, Jacob isn't even his actual brand! They'll appreciate the enjoy on terms along with the edgier design and style, all although experiencing some entertaining remembering Valentine's Day time. From the online video, the young lady, Clauda Erazo, is observed cosying around Jacob in a really simple, five 2nd clip.

On this Valentine's Day, if you are a boy, I want you to gift He is mine t-shirt” to your girlfriend and buy for yourself a she is mine t-shirt.” Plan a date on this Valentine's Day and both of you meet each other wearing these t-shirts. Soon after 17 years in Egypt, Jacob passed away and Joseph carried Jacob's remains on the terrain of Canaan, and offered him a stately burial within the same Cave of Machpelah as had been buried Abraham, Isaac, Sarah and Rebecca and Jacob's first better half, Leah. Jacob Sartorius admitting he would like to time a fan, opinion listed below on reasons why you would or wouldn't desire to day Jacob ! LogoSportswear offers the greatest variety of personalized love t-shirt models on the web.

Crucial Created in United states Origin Disclaimer: For specific goods marketed by Walmart on , the exhibited region of beginning information might not be correct or steady with maker info. Even though it's continue to not crystal clear regardless of if the Actual Jacob was begging a young lover for nude photographs, the purpose still remains that the fan under consideration was distinctly underage in the course of the requests. With Merchnow voucher 2016 in store get obtain goods from the shops where you will come across up to 75Percent clear of all clearance things. Before and you were about to when Jacob comes up to you, you've never ridden one.

In January 2016, Twitter user @luhsrupp posted a selection of photos to her bank account proving” that a Jacob Sartorius bank account on Facebook ended up being pressuring her to send exposed pictures, or even just photos of her within a bra and undies”. Enjoy staying in this year, but look just as fantastic as if you were headed to a jacob sartorius tour t shirts. New customers that are granted with this vouchers truly feel invited, and so they get their items at subsidised expenses. Jacob is going to be joined up with by fellow social websites superstars Johnny Orlando, The Bomb Digz and Newborn Ariel.

Reference : https://www.blinkvero.com/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/T-shirt

[khhaaraaaa-blog1]

Valentine's Day T Shirts Couples

If I say so myself, we made some heart printed T-shirts this past week that are pretty darn awesome. This is suitable with valentine's day t shirts too as her mom controls all his social websites profiles. We have so many tops which will help you demonstrate your girlfriend simply how much you like the thing which makes them unique. Responding for the condition, numerous supporters tweeted their hassle by getting in touch with Taylor ‘fake', while others had been also stunned on the way Jacob experienced responded to his enthusiast. Any ol' sound t-t-shirt will be the ideal background to create a fun design to your little one! Go shopping our sizeable variety of Group Jacob presents, t-tops, stickers and posters beginning at $5 Distinctive Team Jacob models.

Search for something which is smooth the helps to keep the tshirt reasonably educated without having stretches it. The smack appears rather tough as well, judging that you could practically notice the WHACK of her hand struck his head, well before Jacob might be heard yelling owww”. I collected a number of pictures and videos of Jacob Sartorius kissing women, specially his followers during this trip. Broadcast your love situation with pizzas by wearing a tshirt that says ‘I adore pizza.' There is absolutely no good reason why a whole new cut of pizzas couldn't be your Valentine…it will probably be ours! Well all that's intending to alter: Spreadshirt's Love Day t-tshirts are going to flip the Valentine's Day time online game on its brain. Jacob is additionally extremely productive on , a favorite mobile app that enables consumers to share video lessons of them selves lip syncing to their favorite songs.

Obtain the perfect mix and shirt and go with the 2 best colors, additionally you get to put in a creative Valentine's Time styled illustration to boost your attire with. Buy yourself a valentine t t-shirt or even a handful of valentines day t shirts for your particular people in your life. Other web superstars who happen to be throughout the very same age group as Jacob typically want to contend with him to view who are able to find more fans. Jacob shows up behind you, wraps his biceps and triceps all around your waistline, and rests his chin on the shoulder joint. I got myself a T-shirt for my boyfriend and can't wait around to acquire far more (for myself way too! ).

In the last couple of days, Jacob Sartorius fans have discovered the video and launched a full on assault upon Clauda's Instagram and Twitter accounts. Step 2: According to the Heat n Bond directions remove the Heat n Bond backing off of the 2 heart pieces and iron on the shirt. According to an Australian survey of 1200 young adults, almost half of people aged 18-39 have broken up with a partner on or around Valentine's Day. Not simply is Jacob Sartorious sketchy af in relation to pricing his merch, Jacob isn't even his genuine name! They'll value the perform on words and also the edgier layout, all while having some entertaining honoring Valentine's Day time. In the movie, the girl, Clauda Erazo, is viewed cosying up to Jacob in a really simple, five 2nd clip.

Why not check out our Funny Valentines Day Poems which provides great fun if you're looking for a bit of inspiration and humour. More than 400 men and women at RetailMeNot search the world wide web every day to find the best deals - so that you don't need to. Wear this I Adore Tranquility t-shirt and ask her when she'd love to gathering to go over free presentation and fewer battles. These love bugs are cute homemade valentines that require just a few supplies and a few minutes to make, but will have everyone enjoying the Valentine's Day celebration! And discuss your images with me on Instagram , so I can view your fairly sweet guys within their Valentine's Time tie up tees. This Build-it-yourself enjoy notice bunting concept is straightforward to recreate at home and will prove to add a lot of celebration to your house. Cancelled a efficiency by Jacob in June soon after around 1,500 folks turned as much as see him although the venue was not big enough, documented Variety. We'd recommend just wearing the t-shirt and consuming the bacon separately but it's your phone.

Arrive using a filled teddy bear, a candy bouquet, and Love Tops from We have now great, sweet designs that are certain to amaze your sweetheart or girlfriend. The youngsters all possessed a blast and worked tirelessly on their t shirts longer than they generally pay for a form of art action when engage in can also be a choice. The discount is moreover issued over to recent consumers who may wish to profit and then make other acquisitions. You probably did the exact same thing and transferred on to Carter, then Daniel, Christian, Dylan, Cameron and Chris and last but not least, Jacob. We shall beat any posted very competitive quote for customized romance t-shirt custom and designs love models. You should have a very little t-t-shirt sandwich with a bit of freezer papers ironed onto both sides.

Each Valentine's Day time I become the children Valentine's Working day t-tshirts They absolutely love this current and wear it to school each and every Valentine's Day time. Gown up your Valentine in new things this coming year and provide our Valentine's Day t-tops a go. You'll really like them! And there's no greater method to distributed the love than with one of our gorgeous components of Valentine's apparel. No information regarding any girlfriends happen to be verified by Jacob or by means of his social media information. Just looking at.) Add it to an I Really Like Sausage t-tee shirt and... it likes like bacon so it's good! Pick a custom valentine's shirt, a traditional 60's-style Adore tee shirt, or soft and warm sweats decorated with rhinestone hearts and minds. We have constantly possessed an interest in audio and operating that started out all around age group 8, as i was performing music theater,” Sartorius points out. P.S: If it is a account, a stupid poser is using it. And literally, you need to really know what type of man or woman Jacob is! !

If you are a boy, I want you to gift He is mine t-shirt” to your girlfriend and buy for yourself a she is mine t-shirt.” Plan a date on this Valentine's Day and both of you meet each other wearing these t-shirts, on this Valentine's Day. After 17 years in Egypt, Jacob passed away and Joseph taken Jacob's remains to be towards the land of Canaan, and gave him a stately burial from the exact same Cave of Machpelah as have been hidden Isaac, Rebecca, Sarah and Abraham and Jacob's very first better half, Leah. valentine's day t shirts admitting he desires to particular date a follower, comment listed below on reasons why you would or wouldn't wish to day Jacob ! LogoSportswear supplies the best selection of customized romance t-tee shirt styles online.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/T-shirt