#gonna take a different approach on one of these

[maiiuelle]

the hunt

based on this post.. literally could not get this out of my head. nobody can do crazy like my man.

warnings: minors dni!! dom!rafe, chasing, pred/prey dynamic, basically breath and impact play

under different circumstances, you wouldn’t be caught dead knee-deep in the muddy swampland of the cut. but, you can’t stop moving now, the purr of rafe’s truck is growing to a roar behind you.

⊹₊⟡⋆

your legs are burning, and covered in mud and cuts from tree branches grazing by your delicate skin. you don’t know how long you’ve been running, long enough for your lungs to ache so painfully you could surrender.

you almost consider it until you realize what kind of punishment he must have waiting for you. you were bad. rafe is the cruelest man you know, and knowing that, you’d never disobeyed him in fear of how he’d react. until today.

your chest heaves as you push to keep running, each step onto the soft ground is pronounced with more dirt splattering your thighs. for a moment, you think he’s lost you, until a pair of bright LED headlights shine past your head and into your view.

he’s too close, the blood chilling rumble of his truck is approaching fast and the pain throbbing throughout your body is becoming too unbearable to keep going. you veer off of your course, weaving through trees until you find one with a thick enough trunk to hide behind. you slam your back into the wood, chest heaving as you lower yourself to a squat. you press a hand to your chest, desperately trying to catch your breath. the wheezing will only give you away.

you hear his truck stop, the humming of the engine fades out and the door slams, your whole body lurches against the rough tree bark.

rafe whistles. “babe!” he chides, the smirk on his lips clear through his voice. he’s enjoying this. “don’t play this game with me, alright? you know i saw you.”

your heart thumps in your ears, the pitter-patter taking over your senses as you try to think of what to do, but your body is frozen. whether it be from exhaustion, or fear, you’re paralyzed on the root rippled ground.

he may be having a good time chasing you around, but he’s growing impatient by the minute. “you’re really gonna make me come get you? gonna make this more difficult for yourself? huh?” the irritation lining his voice turns your stomach. you’re done for.

“what? you just wanna piss me off a little more, is that it? you like getting on my fuckin’ nerves?” he rants, twigs snapping under his feet as he stalks closer. “you’re a brat!”

you cover your mouth and suck in fresh air through your nose, the overwhelming scent of soil and swamp water fills your senses, only the unnatural sweet aroma of rafe’s luxury cologne suddenly catches in the soft breeze. before the panic can set in, a rough hand grabs your arm and pulls you to a stand, but you trip over your legs in shock and you fall right into your boyfriends chest. your face is met with the cold material of his golfing polo, one of his favorites, only now it’s stained with soot along with the rest of his expensive clothing.

“no, no! rafe!” you begin to plead, feeling guilty about what you’d done, and running. he pushes you off of him, his strong hands controlling your movements as he turns you at his will, holding you with his grip settled on your arms, using the leverage to hoist you up and over his shoulder like you’re nothing. “rafe, stop!” you hang limply, his arm coming to hold you down like he’s carrying a bundle of logs, only he holds your arms tight against your torso. with your arms trapped, and your legs already growing sore, you have no chance of escape.

rafe just scoffs, stomping through the wood back to his parked pick-up. “don’t beg now — like i didn’t just chase you down through the entire goddamn cut. you deserve what you’re gonna fucking get, know that.” he grits, and you whine out a strained cry.

once he reaches the truck, he rounds the passenger side and flicks the back door open. “y’know, at this point i’d at least expect an apology.” without warning, he bucks forward and throws you on your back onto the leather back seat. you stare up at him like a spooked doe, eyes wide as you finally get a good look at him. like you, he’s covered head to toe in mud. his sweaty bangs hang messily over his forehead as he looks down on you, nostrils flaring as his eyes watch your stiffened frame expectantly. “i’d start with ‘i’m so sorry, rafey!’” he teases, his thick finger suddenly coming up to hook under the waistband of your skirt. he invades your space, tall enough to hover over you even though he’s still standing outside of the truck. he gets so close your hands instinctively come up to brace yourself, they ball up in his stained shirt in fear, but you hold onto the slight hope he’ll have some sort of mercy on you.

“rafe — rafe, i am sorry! i just — i was..” you cry, only he smacks his other heavy hand over your mouth before you can get far. even doing what he says, he grows even angrier. he’s completely unpredictable.

“shut the fuck up!” rafe shouts, his hand on your waistband adjusts and he grabs your waist, his grip bruising. “you wanna apologize? yeah?” he pushes, and when you nod he helps you along with his palm over your mouth. “good girl. that’s it.”

warmth spreads through your stomach, pulsing in slow waves as his warm fingers trail up your torso to your tit to palm it gently like a stress ball. his eyes outline your body, while yours stay on his face, watching him take in his prey. it’s odd, you’re terrified and yet so eager to be splayed out in front of him like this.

“fuck.” he groans, the hand on your mouth pivots to your jaw, positioning your head upward to meet his lips. they crash into yours, and you’re desperate to reciprocate, grasping for any affection from him. he breaks to push his forehead into yours, hands suddenly occupied with prying off his mud-caked belt. “take ‘em off, come on.” rafe urges under his breath, clearly running low on patience. in part due to your own mounting desire, you shuffle to push your tennis skirt and panties down to your knees.

rafe forces down his shorts just enough to free himself, eyes raking over you. impatiently, he rips your bottoms right off your legs, balling them up in his palm and chucking them deeper into the backseat before he resumes ravishing you. he’s pinned you to the leather seat with the weight of his body, pressing against you as he forces his lips into yours. the animalistic, hungry way he’s handling you is delicious. your core is throbbing hot against the cold outdoor air, his cock smooths over your thigh, and your head goes blank. you can’t wait any longer to feel him push inside of you. the fear and distress you’d been filled with before has melted completely into submission.

he lifts himself up, one hand coming to position himself at your entrance, and the other pushes your fitted cropped t-shirt up over your tits. he pauses, slotting his tip between your folds, mindlessly making you shudder in need. rafe couldn’t care, he’s taking his time now, too focused on playing with your tits with his free hand, watching them peak through his fingers. imagining what he could do to you. “god, you are so fucking lucky i love you.”

his hips come flush with yours as he plunges into you. your satisfied scream is immediately muffled by his hand coming back to its place over your lips, the force pins your head to the seat.

rafe rocks into you slowly, but with a force that pushes your limp body up the seat with every thrust. you’re so full, it’s intoxicating. you’re taken over by the feeling of him, you close your eyes so there isn’t anything but him, how he’s making you feel. your hands come to claw at his arm, even in your state, you’re desperate to breathe through the hand that’s covering your mouth and shifting over your nose. he’s completely entranced, watching himself disappear inside of you over and over again. he deserved this after all you’d put him through.

but, it’s not enough. his snapping movements are slowly pushing you away, and his frustration swells. “fuck.. fuck!” rafe growls, moving both arms to wrap around your muddy thighs, hooking underneath to pull you impossibly closer to him. your ass is completely hanging off the back seat now, suspended in mid-air held up completely by him. you take the chance to sit up on your elbows, peeking down to where your bodies meet. it’s so overwhelming, you rush to catch your breath, but it’s impossible with the unrelenting pace he’s setting. your poor lungs burn as your throat forces out strangled moans, the stretch of him inside of you feels too good to stay quiet. the sound of your skin smacking together fills the truck, beautifully conjoined with the pretty sounds he’s pulling from you. “yeah, yeah. is this what you wanted?” rafe looks at your fucked out face, your lashes fluttering as you try to keep yourself together. “fucking say it.”

“just wanted you, rafe!” you whine, your pussy pulsing around him as a wave of heat spreads through your abdomen. a moan rips from you, he knows you’re about to burst, and he’s feeling mean.

rafe’s hips smack against yours, punctuating his assault with a hard chap before he completely unsheathes himself. you’re brave enough to pout, crumbling with a whine as you clench around nothing. he grabs your jaw, forcing your attention. “you do some stupid shit like that again, i’m leaving you with the gators.”

and with that, rafe stands up straight, shifting his shorts back into place and stuffing himself inside. once he’s sorted, he plants a hand on the fat of your thigh and shoves you inside. without sparing you a glance, he runs his hand down his face, looking behind his truck to surveil the surrounding woods. he slams the back door, leaving you to stare at the leather interior bewildered. rafe reappears, tugging open the drivers side door, hauling himself inside and bringing the truck’s engine back to life. rafe doesn’t say a word to you as he drives you back to tannyhill, too busy plotting how he’s going to finish you off when you get there.

⊹₊⟡⋆

[cyberhughes]

TAPOUT!

jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, luke hughes , fem!reader, cole caufield x fem!reader, trevor zegras x fem!reader

IN WHICH… the new social media intern for the new jersey devils gets a proper welcome from her favourite boys

NOTE guys i had to take a pause on the requests because this was just on my mind so bad…and if this is the fic that gets me canceled for being too controversial then we went out w a bang!! (pun not intended)

also this is dedicated to my kitten clara👩🏻‍🍳🤝 @lovecla i’m glad i have someone to share my insanity with i love you👅👅

WARNINGS! NSFW 18+ content dark content/taboo | five guys one girl :( | dubcon/coercion | spiking drinks w aphrodisiac | unprotected sex | blowjobs |subtle size kink | dacryphilia (blink and u miss it) | recording | degradation | cum eating | uhm if im missing anything lmk im going crazy

she got that million dollar ooh ooh ohh...

make her tap out!

you don’t know how you got into this position. or, multiple positions. hot tears blurred your vision from clearly seeing the men in front of you. the men who had been watching you like you were prey the moment you stepped into the arena as a new social media intern, waiting for their chance to pounce on you.

[ ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ]

“hey!” you stopped your steps as you heard a familiar voice call out just before you were about to head over to the seats to film some practice content.

luke, who you had met a few times, had skated up to the gate, a friendly smile on his face as he approached. “it’s y/n, right?” he asked and you nodded with a smile, most of the time players didn’t really care for the social media girls, simply answering their questions and going on about their day like you didn’t exist. hell, they probably wouldn’t have recognized you if they saw you walking on the street.

“so uh, feel free to say no,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “i was having a little get together with some other players tonight, and some friends from other teams too,” you nodded as you listened intently, scared you might zone out from admiring his features.

“and i was wondering if maybe you’d like to join? some of the other social media girls are gonna be there from the other teams so i was thinking that maybe you could like, connect with them or something? just cause you’re new.” he offered with a cheeky smile and you nodded, seeming calm but inside you were freaking out a bit, it was such a perfect opportunity!

you could get so many tips from the other girls, learning things from their past experience to limit any stupid mistakes you might make while learning on your own.

“yeah! i’d love to!” he grinned at your response, “okay, awesome! how ‘bout after practice i’ll give you the details?”

[ ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ]

you took in a deep breath before you firmly knocked on the door of luke’s apartment, nervousness bubbled in your stomach as you waited. you were excited to meet the other girls, and make some possible new connections with anyone else. your hands fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you heard clattering and music on the other side.

the door swung open, revealing a grinning luke. you tried to hide your surprise when you saw him, usually you had either seen him in either hockey gear or in a suit. you thought that it was refreshing to see him in something so laid back, a simple tshirt and jeans matched with a backwards cap that pushed his curls nicely to the back and side of his head.

“hey y/n!” he stepped back to let you in. you returned the greeting as you stepped in as you scanned the apartment, and wow. he really downplayed on the ‘small get together’. the apartment was bustling with players of different teams chatting and drinking, yet you couldn’t spot any of the social media girls. hm, maybe they were running late.

luke noticed the way your shoulders dropped slightly in disappointment. “oh, yeah i’m sorry y/n.” he shook his head as he led you into the living room where some familiar faces were sitting. “the other girls said they couldn’t come anymore. last minute family emergencies and some illnesses or something.” he spoked and you simply nodded. “oh, that’s too bad.” you responded, it was too bad. but you looked on the brighter side of things, you would get to know the players in a more candid setting, even starting some new friendships.

“hey guys, y/n came.” luke introduced you to everyone and you waved shyly. sitting beside jack on the couch was trevor zegras and cole caufield, with quinn sitting on an arm chair just beside.

“hey y/n!” jack slapped his hands on his thighs as he stood up from his position on the couch. “it’s too bad the other girls couldn’t come, but we’re still gonna have fun, right?” he said and you nodded, cheeks slightly burning when he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. the greeting threw you off slightly, only having met him a handful of times

“what do you say we get you a drink, hm?” he offered and you nodded, following along, you didn’t want to be impolite. you’d have one drink to settle your nerves before getting to know the players.

you didn’t notice the devilish grin jack shot luke as he placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the kitchen.

the night was going pretty smoothly, you had spent most of your time with the five guys you had initially been introduced with. you talked about your major for a bit, why you wanted to go into sports marketing, a bit about your personal life.

you went to take a sip of your drink as you listened to quinn talk about, well you weren't really sure what, but you had noticed your cup was empty. luke peered over, “oh, i can refill that for you.” he reached out his hand and you smiled, “sure, maybe just a soda, please?” he nodded. you don’t know how many times that night luke got up to get you another soda, but you didn’t complain. he was being a good host and you didn’t want to be rude.

“so what does your boyfriend think of you working in sports marketing?” cole smiled, taking a sip of his drink. you shook your head and chuckled in slight embarrassment, “oh, i don’t have a boyfriend.”

“really? but you’re so pretty?” trevor hummed from beside you. he had his arm draped behind you on the couch, and he reached up to twirl a strand of your hair as you blushed fifty shades of red.

you didn’t know how to respond to the compliment, squeaking out a quiet ‘thank you.’

the room started to get hot, maybe from embarrassment, maybe from the amount of bodies crowded into one space.

“hey, you okay?” quinn asked, noticing the way you were playing with the collar of your cardigan, trying to loosen it’s grip on your neck.

“uh, yeah sorry. just feeling a bit weird.” you gave him a tight lipped smile, you didn’t want to ruin the night, you had worked so hard to get where you are today and you didn’t want to ruin any of your newly made friendships with the players.

“hey it’s okay,” jack moved a few strands of hair away from your face, an expression of false concern taking over his features. “why don’t you lay down in luke's room for a bit while we call it a night?” he offered and you shook your head, “i don’t want to ruin your night.” he smiled at your pout, “don’t worry ‘bout it, luke will show you the way.”

and so luke led you to his room, letting you lean your weight onto his arm as he guided you.

“just sit down m’kay?” you nodded and plopped on the bed, feeling a weird warmth spread throughout your body. were you catching a fever? was it pms? you had never felt this feeling before. “they’ll tell everyone to go home.” he stroked your hair, letting you lean onto his shoulder.

quinn walked into the room, with jack, trevor and cole following right behind. “you okay y/n?” quinn asked as he took a seat next to you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “you’re getting hot, why don’t you take your sweater off?” you nodded and let him unbutton your cardigan, peeling off the fabric and letting his cold hands graze your skin.

“why don’t you stay over tonight?” luke murmured as his eyes fell to your cleavage once your cardigan was taken off.

“yeah, we don’t want you out driving like this.” trevor kneeled in front of you, examining your face as the boys nodded in agreement.

was this inappropriate? staying over at luke’s apartment? you were just the social media girl, you didn’t want it to seem like you had taken this job just to get closer to the players. then again, maybe they were right. it wasn’t safe for a young woman to head home alone in an uber so late at night.

“just let us take care of you baby, okay?” luke pushed your hair to the side as he whispered into your ear, letting his lips trail down to your neck where he placed a small kiss. you shivered at the touch, feeling your butterflies in your stomach. “o-okay…” you sighed when he pressed another kiss onto your shoulder.

“you feeling hot? why don’t we take off the rest of your clothes, hm?” quinn’s fingers toyed with the strap of your tank top. “is…is this weird?” you looked up at him with doe eyes, tears barely forming. he gave you an endearing smile, admiring how cute you looked. “no, we’re all friends here, just wanna take care of you.” he said and you nodded.

quinn carefully helped you out of your tank top and skirt, revealing your lace bra and panties which you tried to cover up in embarrassment. you felt the bed dip behind you, jack and cole approaching on the situation.

you felt like prey underneath their gazes, their eyes burning over your exposed flesh like they were getting ready to devour you, their mouths practically watering

“so pretty…” cole's voice was barely above a whisper as he watched they way trevor traced his fingers closer and closer to your core.

this was extremely wrong, it was dirty. yet you couldn’t help but feel your panties get damper at their ministrations.

trevor looked up at you, tilting his head with a friendly smile, “gonna let us use you, pretty girl?” as he gently pushed open your thighs and you gave him a dazed nod, your response nearly coming out as a whimper, “yes.” you knew what they were doing, you knew that this was extremely perverted and wrong, but you were too far gone.

your lips parted in a soft gasp as you felt his fingers trace over your cunt overtop of your pink panties. you felt so many hands on you, groping at your breasts through your bra, slender hands pulling your thighs open just a bit further.

trevor pushed your panties to the side, toying with your slick before pushing in a single finger, looking up for your reaction. you whimpered, leaning back onto cole’s chest while he placed a small kiss on your temple.

trevor slowly pumped his finger, your arousal growing with the overwhelming amount of stimulation you were receiving from everyone. “so tight…” he mumbled as he stared with amazement before forcing a second and soon third finger. he pumped his digits in and out, earning moans from you that felt like music to their ears. from behind you, jack reached around to toy with your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

tears threatened to fall as you felt the heat pool in your lower stomach, “m…m gonna cum..” you whined, body fighting the way cole hand you down as you squirmed.

“go on baby, it’s okay.” quinn licked at your ear and that was all it took for you to snap, your first orgasm of the night washing over you with an intensity you had never felt before.

“fuck..” luke’s mouth dropped open as he watched your release squirt out onto trevor's tattooed arm, his fingers practically jackhammering into you as he pulled every moan he could from you until you were breathless.

everything felt hazy as they lied you down, they took their time taking off the only fabric that you had left, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable. you heard some rummaging around but stayed focused on catching your breath.

you dazily watch jack as he climbed on top of you, trailing comforting kisses from your stomach up to your neck. “you okay with this?” he asked as he stroked his cock from below you, positioning it at your fluttering entrance. you nodded frantically and he smirked, “‘course you are.” you felt your stomach drop at the mockery in his voice, but you didn’t have much time to think about it before he pushed into you, taking all the air from your lungs. “fuck baby,” he groaned, letting himself sink fully, tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to fall at the intense stretch.

he didn’t give you time to adjust as he began thrusting into you with fervor, lifting your legs and pressing them to your chest. his fingers dug into your thighs and he pushed them down, leaving bruises onto your delicate skin. “you’re so dirty, y/n.” he grinned from above you and you felt the tears fall, which he quickly kissed away. you could tell he was about to cum when his thrusts became harsher, his cock kissing at your cervix as he let out deep groans.

his gaze flickered from the way your pussy sucked him in, up to your face, cheeks red and stained with tears as you watched him with hooded eyes. “fuckkk,” he breathed out, letting himself shoot his load into you, hips stuttering as he did so.

you let out a whine when he pulled out, feeling his cum drip out of your hole and down to your ass. you don’t even notice when he had switched positions with trevor and cole, the two boys admiring your fucked out expression before taking their turn with you.

“such a pretty little whore.” trevor smiled at you sweetly, a contrast to his degrading words. he flipped you onto your stomach with ease, lifting your hips up so that your ass was flush with his pelvis.

cole positioned himself in front of you, and you knew what he wanted. you stuck your tongue out, looking up at him with doe eyes and he swore he could’ve cum just from the sight. he slapped his cock over your tongue as trevor spread your ass cheeks from behind, getting a better view of your swollen cunt before he lined himself up with your already leaking hole.

you moaned around cole’s cock as trevor thrusted into you, the vibrations sending instant pleasure throughout his body. you steadied yourself by placing your hands on his thick thighs, letting your nails dig into his skin as he let out the prettiest whines.

you let out a squeal when trevor slapped your ass, quickly smoothing his hand over the red mark to soothe the pain. “so filthy,” it didn’t take them long before they came, shooting their loads from both ends.

you had no choice but to swallow cole’s cum when he pushed your head down all the way, nose to pelvis as his body shook in pleasure.

he cupped your face with one hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he thanked you, leaving your heart fluttering. trevor placed a kiss onto your back before the two of them moved away, letting quinn take over.

quinn’s eyes scanned you with a look of disapproval and pity. “so messy, baby.” you pouted at his words, he was right though. you had cum and spit leaking at the corner of your mouth, your hair was tousled and your cunt was already stuffed full. he grabbed your tank top that was thrown onto the bed earlier and quickly cleaned you up.

“there we go.” he smiled softly before leaning down to give you a proper kiss on this lips and your eyes fluttered closed, your hands reaching up to tangle themselves in his hair. he trailed his kiss from your mouth down to your breasts, licking and sucking at the reddening skin. “poor baby,” he murmured, “didn’t even get to cum again, hm? it’s okay though, i’m gonna take proper care of you.” he said, a slight dig to the men who had previously used you without any regard for your own pleasure.

he laid you down, dipping his middle finger between your folds, chuckling at the way your hole fluttered, clenching around nothing. “i’ll take care of you.” he soon replaced his finger with his aching cock, pushing into you gently as he hushed your whimpers with a kiss.

“doing so good for us, aren’t you baby?” his hand trailed down to lazily massage at your neglected clit. “q-quinn…” your nails scratched at his back, leaving bright red marks and he hissed at the pleasurable pain, nipping at your collarbones. “it’s okay, i got you baby.” he rocked into you, never ceasing his actions on your clit and you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as his thrusts deepened. “you gonna cum for me, pretty girl? huh? gonna put on a show on for them?” you whined at his words, squirming underneath him as the heat pooled in your belly.

“k-kiss..” you mumbled and he smiled, “yeah, i got you.” he leaned down and you kissed him deeply, moving your hips up to meet him halfway. “go on baby, let go.” he whispered against your lips when he felt your grip on him tighten, your pussy spasming as you came, him following soon after, pulling out to cum onto the soft skin of your stomach.

your vision was blurry as you came down from your orgasm, body on fire from the consistent stimulation with no break. you felt quinn pepper kiss over your face, “you did so good baby.” he placed on last kiss on your lips, savoring the sweet taste of your saliva, “it’s okay, it’s almost over.” he reassured and you hummed in confusion, before you saw luke standing at the edge of the bed.

you didn’t know if you had it in you, and god he looked big standing there. “luke…” you whimpered as you tried crawling back up the bed, but he grabbed your ankles and pulled you back down.

“m’sorry baby,” he pouted, “you’re gonna let me fuck you, right? it’s only fair. i’m the one who thought you were pretty first.” he said like it was a competition before pushing himself in, your eyes going wide as your body tensed. even though you had been fucked plenty that night, none of them could’ve possible compared to the way luke’s cock was stretching you out.

hot tears fell down your cheeks as he thrusted into you, letting one of his large hands press down onto your lower stomach to feel the bulge of his cock as he fucked you. “too big luke!” you cried, thrashing underneath him and leaned down closer, his cock hitting deeper. “you can take it, know you can.” he grunted, his tip brushing against your cervix and you gripped onto his biceps like he was your lifeline. “luke! s’too much!” you cried and he licked as the salty tears from your face.

he didn’t let up his pace, continuing to fuck into you like he had been dreaming of since he first laid eyes on you at the rink. “my pretty girl...” he cooed as your screams of overstimulation echoed in his ears as he reached places inside you no one had ever reached before.

it wasn’t long before yet another load was dumped into you, your eyes lolling to the back of your head as you let out a silent scream while you came for the final time that night.

the room fell silent, the boys entranced at your fucked out expression, limp on the bed with your skin decorated with their cum.

“fuck, wait till nico sees this.” jack was quick to pull out his phone, snapping a picture of you.

“there’s no leaving us now, baby doll.”

[goldfades]

a bengal welcome | JOE BURROW⁹ [009]

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.3k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | bengals meeting hayes for the first time!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | nothing but fluff!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the console between you. Hayes was securely strapped into his car seat in the back, his tiny fists waving in the air like he was orchestrating a symphony.

"You sure we’ve got everything?" Joe asked, glancing at you as you double-checked the baby bag for the third time.

"Diapers, wipes, formula, bottles, extra clothes, his favorite blanket," you listed off, zipping the bag shut with a decisive tug. "Yep, I think we’re good. Unless Hayes has something catastrophic planned, but let’s pray he doesn’t."

Joe chuckled under his breath. “He’s my kid. Odds aren’t great.”

You shot him a playful glare, leaning back in your seat. “Well, let’s hope he takes after me in the ‘not causing chaos’ department.”

The spring sun streamed through the windows, the light dancing over Joe’s profile. He wore a casual hoodie and a cap pulled low, but the little flickers of excitement in his eyes gave him away. Despite his laid-back demeanor, you knew he was looking forward to this.

It wasn’t just any gathering—it was the first time Joe’s teammates would be meeting Hayes, and Ja’Marr had insisted on hosting a little welcome-baby party at his place. You could already picture the chaos waiting for you there, with half the Bengals ready to turn a simple gathering into an impromptu celebration.

“I bet Ja’Marr has some wild decorations,” you said, watching the scenery pass outside.

“Guaranteed,” Joe replied with a smirk. “He texted me a picture of a balloon arch at like 2 a.m. last night.”

You laughed, imagining Ja’Marr staying up late to perfect the setup. “Well, at least he’s taking his duties as ‘honorary uncle’ seriously.”

The drive passed quickly, and before you knew it, Joe was pulling into Ja’Marr’s driveway, which was lined with cars and a few oversized SUVs that you recognized as belonging to other players. Sure enough, there was a massive balloon arch at the entrance, spelling out Welcome Baby Hayes! in bold, glittering letters.

“Subtle,” Joe muttered, grinning as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

You glanced back at Hayes, who was wide-eyed and babbling nonsense to his stuffed tiger. “Alright, baby boy,” you said softly. “Let’s go meet Dad’s other family.”

Joe grabbed the baby bag while you carefully lifted Hayes out of his car seat, holding him close as the two of you walked up to the door. The second you stepped inside, the noise hit—a chorus of cheers and shouts greeting you like a wave.

“There he is!”

“Joey B and Baby B!”

“Look at this little guy!”

The Bengals were in full force, a mix of giant smiles, loud voices, and open arms. Ja’Marr was the first to approach, grinning ear to ear as he took in the sight of Hayes.

“Man, he’s even smaller than I thought,” Ja’Marr said, bending down slightly to get a better look. “What’s up, little guy? I’m your Uncle Ja’Marr. You’re gonna hear a lot about me.”

Hayes blinked at him, his tiny face scrunching up like he wasn’t sure how to feel about the towering man in front of him.

“Give him some space, Chase,” Tee Higgins joked, nudging Ja’Marr aside. “You’re probably scaring the poor kid.”

“Scaring him?” Ja’Marr shot back, feigning offense. “I’m the most likable guy in the room.”

You laughed, adjusting Hayes in your arms as Joe stepped in beside you, offering nods and grins to his teammates. “He’s already used to noise, trust me,” you said.

As the party got underway, the team took turns fawning over Hayes. Sam Hubbard tried to cradle him like a football, earning a sharp “don’t even think about it” from you, while Evan McPherson made Hayes giggle with a silly face. Even the usually stoic players softened around your baby, their towering frames and booming voices taking on a gentle edge.

“He’s got your baby blues,” Tyler Boyd remarked to Joe, who had settled next to you on the couch, looking proud and a little overwhelmed by all the attention.

“Yeah,” Joe said, glancing at Hayes with a faint smile. “He’s a good mix of both of us, though.”

You smiled, leaning into Joe’s side as Hayes cooed and wiggled in your lap. It was chaos, sure, but the good kind—the kind that made you feel surrounded by love and warmth.

The party buzzed on, filled with warm chatter and soft laughter, but Joe’s focus never wavered. Hayes had become the star of the show, passed around like a delicate treasure as each of Joe’s teammates clamored for a turn to hold him.

“Alright, my turn,” Tee Higgins declared, holding out his arms.

You glanced at Joe, who was standing just a few steps away, his shoulders tense as if Hayes might suddenly sprout wings and fly out of someone’s grip.

Tee chuckled. “Relax, man. I’ve got nieces and nephews. I know what I’m doing.”

Joe hesitated, his jaw tightening before he finally nodded. “Just… make sure his head’s supported.”

“Got it, Dad,” Tee replied with a teasing grin. He carefully scooped Hayes out of your arms, holding him securely. “See? No problem.”

Joe crossed his arms, his eyes glued to Hayes like a hawk watching its prey. His lips pressed into a thin line every time Hayes wiggled or let out a tiny noise.

“You’re gonna burn a hole into Tee’s face if you keep staring like that,” you whispered to Joe, nudging him lightly.

“He’s fine,” Joe muttered, though his feet shifted as if he were ready to lunge at any moment.

Ja’Marr sidled up beside him, clapping him on the back. “Man, you’ve gotta chill. Hayes is cool. Tee’s not gonna drop him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joe replied quickly. But his body language said otherwise, every muscle taut as he watched Tee sway gently with Hayes, making goofy faces that earned a few soft coos from the baby.

As the night went on, each teammate took their turn. Evan, with his steady kicker’s hands, rocked Hayes expertly, drawing a rare smile from Joe. Even the defensive linemen, whose hands were more accustomed to crushing quarterbacks than cradling babies, handled Hayes with surprising gentleness.

Sam leaned down to whisper something to Hayes, his voice soft but gruff. “Alright, little guy. In a few years, we’ll get you in pads, yeah?”

“Over my dead body,” Joe shot back, his voice sharp enough to draw a laugh from the room.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched Joe. His protectiveness wasn’t new, but seeing it in action with Hayes added a new layer to the man you already loved. There was something endearing about the way he hovered, his eyes darting from one set of hands to the next, his whole demeanor a mixture of pride and quiet panic.

Finally, Ja’Marr got his turn, holding Hayes with a confidence that rivaled Joe’s own. “See? This is how you do it,” he said, rocking Hayes like a natural.

Joe didn’t respond, but his eyes stayed locked on Hayes, his lips twitching every time the baby shifted.

“Alright, alright,” Ja’Marr teased, handing Hayes back to you. “Before Joey B has a heart attack.”

Joe exhaled audibly as Hayes was safely returned to your arms. He stepped closer, his hand brushing against Hayes’s back as if to reassure himself.

“He was fine, you know,” you said softly, smiling up at him.

“I know,” Joe murmured, his hand lingering. “But he’s… I just don’t like being too far from him.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you leaned into his side, letting Hayes settle comfortably between you.

“Welcome to fatherhood,” you said with a grin.

Joe finally relaxed, his arm draping over your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his gaze still on Hayes. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

They Knew

Schlatt x gn!reader Summary: Second part to this! Schlatt takes you back to his after the bar. After all these years you're finally together in the ways you always hoped, until Schlatt's anxiety gets the best of him. Warnings: Please let me know if you find any gendered language, I haven't edited this fully yet. Swearing, making out, allusions to sex. I'm gonna torture everyone and make you wait longer for the smut

You don't remember getting out of the cab, or stumbling your way drunk through the doors of Schlatt's family home, still locking lips as you cling onto each other and giggle. He shushes you as he laughs, as he stumbles his way down the hallway towards his bedroom.

"Not very subtle you two are," a kind voice laughs from the kitchen as his mum flicks on the lights and gives him a faux stern look as the pair stumble in. Her eyes drift to you and in an instant she's in front of you, her hands are on your shoulders as she pulls you in for an excited hug.

"Well look what the cat dragged in," she says excitedly as she pulls back, hands still on her shoulder as she takes you in "oh dear look at you," she says getting a bit choked up as she takes you in, "I always knew you'd grow up to be a beautiful young woman."

"Mom come on," Schlatt grumbles embarrassed as you laugh softly next to him, making familiar pleasantries with his mum. She steps back and takes the sight of the two of you in, standing in her kitchen, like you did so often when you were kids. Now, here you were again, by some miracle, in her kitchen once again, all that time having flown by.

He hears his mum open the door before he can make his way down stairs, cringing to himself as he hears the surprised greeting she gives you.

“Oh! Hello dear,” she says sweetly as she opens the door and takes you in, “who might you be?”

You laugh nervously as you adjust your bag on your shoulder, giving the woman a polite smile, “hi Mrs schlatt -“

He cuts you off as he leaps down the stairs, sliding in between you and his mum, “this is Y/N mum,” he says, “they’re a -“ his voice stuttering in his throat as he takes you in, staring up at him, dreading the words coming from his mouth, “friend from school.”

“Mmm,” his mum chuckles behind him as she fails to stifle her laugh, “friend from school he says.”

"Come on," Schlatt groans as he stumbles a bit drunk, resting a hand on your waist, "you can talk in the morning."

"Oh in the morning huh?" she says as she raises an eyebrow at her son, who in turn groans as his cheeks flush, "alright alright" she laughs putting her hands up in surrender "I'm leaving."

"You're so embarrassing" Schlatt groans to his mum as he grabs your hand, tugging you towards his bedroom door.

"I'm just gonna say one I told you so" she says to Schlatt in a sing song voice as she walks up the stairs "'I don't like her mum' you used to say, but I always knew"

He pulls you into his bedroom as he groans, pushing the door shut as he grumbles "Jesus Christ!"

"She always knew huh?" you say teasingly as you look around his bedroom, stumbling slightly on your wobbly legs. It's a lot different than the last time you've been in here, but you've caught some of his streams before he moved out. It's comfortable, familiar, even though it's changed.

He watches you as you walk around his room, a longing in his chest making it ache. It's been so long since he's really been back, but watching you, move about his space with such familiarity makes him remember just how much you belong, how easily you fit into his life. How much he's missed you.

"I used to hate when she asked about you," he says in a soft voice as he approaches you, gently turning you in his arms as they snake around your waist.

You smile softly as you wrap your hands around his neck, "my family used to do the same."

"I used to get so embarrassed that they thought we were dating," he admits as he raises a hand to your face, cupping it gently as he rubs his thumb across your cheek. You've lost some of the baby fat you still had the last time he saw you, your face now littered with freckles etched into your skin from your time on the West Coast. Your time away from him.

"I did too," you whisper, words slightly slurred still, as you lean into his touch, "I didn't wanna be the kinda person to fall for their best friend... it was so cliche," You breathe as you look up at him, "but everyone knew."

"How was your date?" your mum beams at you as you walks through the door, throwing your shoes and coat off and dumping them on the ground.

You huffs and slink past her into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and grabbing an apple, the first thing you sees. "It wasn't a date," you remind them as you take a bite of your apple, keeping the fridge door open to cool your suddenly warm cheeks.

"Well how was your not date then?" she says excitedly, attracting the attention of your father who pops his head out of his office.

"How did the date go kiddo?"

"It wasn't a date," you groan as he sits down at the kitchen island, burying your face in your hands.

There's the sound of doors opening and closing upstairs as excited footsteps run to the top of the stairs, "how was your date?" your brother asks. "Is Jay still here?"

All you can do is groan as you feels your face burn, "I don't like him like that."

He nods as he pulls you closer, chest against chest, holding you, "yeah," he whispers as he leans closer, "they knew. I think I knew too."

The vulnerability in his voice makes you wanna cry, the longing in his eyes makes the tears actually well up as all you can do is connect your lips to his. This kiss is passionate and soft, gentle. There's an innocence to this kiss that surprises you both, different to the desperate flurry in the cab. Those young teens that were crushing on each other coming out as if it's the first time you've both kissed anyone. The kiss you both wish had been your first.

You stand there for an eternity, softly kissing, wrapped up in each others arms. Schlatt's grip on your waist is almost bruising as he holds you against him, afraid if he loosens it even slightly you'll vanish from his life again. It feels like a dream, having you in his arms like this, feeling your lips against his. It's something he thought of countless times when he was younger, long nights laying awake yearning for you, too scared to make a move. Too scared to mess it up and ruin everything.

He can't help but deepen the kiss, his need for you growing as he drags his tongue across your lips. You part your lips for him with a gentle hum of pleasure, your hand slipping under his shirt as you do, nails scratching against his stomach ever so slightly and making him shiver.

As he gently pushes his tongue into your mouth, he finds those anxious thoughts coming back, as they did every time he thought about this all those years ago. Your tongue is thick with the taste of alcohol and he suddenly remembers just how drunk you were only 30 minutes ago, stumbling out of the cab. Had you sobered up that much?

He pulls away just slightly, breath heavy against your lips as he hold on you loosens slightly as they drift to hold your hips. He takes in the way you sway slightly as you stand there, the way your hazy eyes flutter open and struggle to concentrate fully on his face. He meets your confused gaze with a look of desire and disappointment etched on his own.

He wants you so badly he feels like it's suffocating him. But he can't like this. You're both too drunk for this, you more so than him. He doesn't wanna ruin the first chance he gets to sleep with you, to have you in all the ways he dreamed of, because you were both drunk. He wants to take his time, show you how good he can be for you, how much you belong together.

He takes a deep, grounding breath as he takes your hand out from under his shirt and intertwines your fingers. "We should get you to bed doll," he whispers as his thumb rubs soft circles on the back of your hand.

He watches your face morph into one of surprise as you stare up at him. He has to look away, he's too weak to keep staring into your pretty doe eyes, wide and sweet staring up at him. "I thought you-"

"You look beat," he says as he forces himself to pull away, his hand still connected with yours as he walks towards his bed.

"Oh," is all you can manage.

The sound of giggles fill the room as you and Schlatt do your best to stifle your laughs. He's got some stupid Youtube video playing that he insisted was the funniest thing he's ever seen, that he just had to show you.

It obviously wasn't. But here the two of you were anyway, lounging in your bed together as you fell apart laughing. By 3am, everything is suddenly the funniest thing in the world.

There's movements outside your bedroom that go totally unnoticed by you both until there's a sharp knock at your door. You fall silent as you stare at Schlatt, both of you with nervous looks written all over your faces.

"Yeah?" you call out, as Schlatt bites his hand to stop himself from laughing again.

"If you two can't be quiet, Jay can't stay the night anymore," the annoyed voice of your father grumbles from the other side of the door.

"No!" you both call out as you sit up straight, scrambling to turn the video off. "No no, dad, we're sorry, we'll go to bed." You say as you turn the lights off, listening to your father grumble to himself as he walks back down the hall.

You lay in silence in your bed for a while, trying to force yourself to go to sleep. "We interrupted the poor guys beauty sleep," Schlatt mumbles next to you, and in an instant you're both falling apart giggling again.

Schlatt has never hated himself more, he thinks as he watches you peacefully sleeping. Here you are, laying in his bed, curled up next to him, looking like a fucking vision. Had he really just turned you down? Why the fuck did he do that?

He can imagine his 16 year old self ready to throttle him if he could go back in time and tell him what just happened, 'oh yeah you finally kissed Y/N, they were practically hanging off you and you sent them to bed.' Maybe he has gone crazy.

He knows he made the right choice, he wanted your first time together to be special, memorable, not just a drunken fuck. The longer he sat there staring at you, the more he thinks maybe he ruined the only chance he would get.

Your confession earlier wasn't really a confession... was it? Could he really rely on you saying that you used to get embarrassed when people thought you were dating as a confession of your current feelings for him. That was nearly 10 years ago now.

He lets out a shaky breath as he looks down at you, watching the way your nose twitches slightly as you sleep, and arm draped across his leg. It feels so right, to have you like this, but fuck if this whole night didn't make him feel sick with anxiety.

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Abu Dhabi GP part 2

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- slow burn of increasing themes including sexism, SA, depression, and implied grooming

Returning to the paddock in the morning, I made my way over to Max, my heart swelling with a mixture of excitement and happiness for him. As I approached him, I couldn’t help but notice the proud smile on his face, a grin that could light up the whole paddock. It wasn’t just the usual confidence I’d grown accustomed to seeing on him—it was something deeper, something more personal. He’d recently announced that he was going to be a father, and it was clear that the news had changed him.

“Max,” I called out, a grin pulling at the corners of my lips.

He turned toward me, his eyes brightening when he saw me approaching. “Hey, hey! You know, I was just waiting for you to come over. You’re one of the few people I’m actually letting say congrats first,” he teased, pulling me into a brief hug.

“I’ll take that as a big compliment,” I joked, my smile wide. “Congratulations, though. I know how big of a deal this is for you.”

“Thanks. It’s... well, it’s everything,” he said, his voice softening just for a moment. Then, as if the weight of his words hit him, he gave a playful shrug. “Guess it’s a whole new chapter, huh?”

“Definitely. I’m so happy for you, Max. You’re going to be an amazing dad.” I could feel my heart swell with warmth as I said it. He deserved all the happiness in the world, and knowing that he was about to experience this new chapter of life brought a contentment I hadn’t realized I needed.

He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little nervous. But hey, if I can handle a racecar, I can handle another little one, right?”

“Of course,” I chuckled, reaching out and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “But seriously, you’ve got this. Just look how well you have done with P so far.”

I hung around for a bit longer, chatting with a few other drivers, congratulating them on their season’s success and the upcoming race. It was a strange feeling, moving through these conversations now. After everything that had happened, after the battle I’d fought, it felt like I had finally found a space where I truly belonged. I was part of this grid, not just as a competitor but as a person they respected. And that made all the difference.

Eventually, I excused myself from the small group and made my way to my driver’s room. The quiet space felt like a refuge, a place where I could let my thoughts settle and regain my focus before the next race.

Once inside, I took a deep breath, running my hands over the smooth surface of my helmet bag. It felt like a lifetime ago when I first started designing this helmet, trying to find the perfect way to express everything I was feeling, everything I had been through.

With a slow, deliberate motion, I unzipped the bag. The familiar smell of paint and resin greeted me, mixed with a slight trace of rubber from the tracks I’d raced on. Inside, my end-of-season helmet sat, waiting for me.

I lifted it out carefully, like it was a treasure, and set it gently on the desk. News design had always been personal, this time it was a mix of everything that had defined my season. The white background was a stark contrast to the intricate tiger stripes that adorned the sides. They weren’t just any stripes—each one was purposeful, a symbol of the tracks I’d conquered, the battles I’d fought, and the victories that had come from resilience.

Some of the stripes were just outlines, tracing the shape of the tiger’s face, while others filled in fully, their bold black lines representing the fierceness I had found in myself. The flags from each track where I’d finished first were woven into the design, carefully placed within the outline stripes. It was my way of paying homage to the races that had defined me this year—the places that had witnessed my comeback, the moments when I’d pushed through my hardest battles.

But it wasn’t just about the victories. There was a blank space at the top of the helmet, an empty void. Through it, the words “My Future is Racing” stood in bold letters, the promise of what lay ahead, what I was still striving for. It was my reminder that this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.

And then, on the back, there was the large shadow of a gold turtle, the image filling the space with its quiet strength. The turtle, which had become something of a personal symbol for me over the last few months, sat there as a testament to my journey. Slow, steady, but always moving forward. Always evolving. But most importantly it was a symbol of my mother who would always be with me. 

I ran my fingers over the intricate design, feeling the raised edges where the paint had hardened, and for the first time in a long time, I felt something close to peace. This helmet wasn’t just a piece of equipment—it was my story. Every stripe, every detail, every word and image had been a part of me, and now, it felt like it was ready to tell the world who I had become.

I stood there for a while, staring at it, letting the weight of the season settle on me. I had done it. I had survived. And now, I was stronger.

I reached over and grabbed the helmet again, holding it close to my chest for a moment. I had a race to prepare for. But more than that, I had a future that was just beginning, and I was ready to face it, no matter what came next.

The tension was palpable in the paddock as the grid lined up for the final race of the season. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the track, and the sound of engines roaring to life reverberated through the air. There was something almost electrifying about this race, as if the entire season had been building toward this moment. I could feel my pulse quickening, the adrenaline already starting to course through me. This was it—my final chance to prove to everyone, and more importantly to myself, that I belonged here.

As I sat in the cockpit of my car, I could hear the roar of the engines around me, but all I could focus on was the task at hand. The past was behind me; this race was a clean slate. I had nothing to prove to anyone but myself. I was ready. The lights went out, and we were off.

The first lap was a blur of motion, tire screeching, cars jostling for position. I rocketed off the line, weaving through the pack, feeling the g-forces pushing me back into my seat as I hit the first few corners. Every instinct I had honed this season kicked into overdrive, and I could feel the momentum building within me. I was so in the zone that I barely noticed the chaos unfolding ahead.

Max Verstappen and Oscar Piastri, two cars ahead of me, were engaged in a fierce battle for position when disaster struck. As they approached a tight corner, their cars locked wheels and slid out of control. Max’s car bumped into Oscar’s, sending both of them into a spin. It was like time slowed down as I saw them coming toward me, but in a split-second decision, I veered to the right, avoiding the wreckage by inches. My heart skipped a beat, but my focus never wavered. I couldn’t let this moment slip away from me.

With the first lap behind me, the adrenaline surged even higher. I was in the midst of the battle now, dodging traffic, threading the needle between cars, and making every pass count. I could feel every turn in my bones, the weight of each corner, the rush of acceleration on the straights. This was what I lived for. This was where I thrived.

The laps ticked by, each one blurring into the next as I pushed harder and harder. I was in P5 by the midway point, but the top four were just within reach. Lando Norris was in P3, looking steady as ever, and I could see Carlos Sainz just ahead in P2. But the car beneath me was coming alive, responding to every flick of my steering wheel. I knew I could do this.

With every corner, I reeled in the pack. I was finding my rhythm, my flow. I overtook car after car, my confidence growing with every successful pass. The crowd was roaring, their cheers reaching my ears even through the helmet, spurring me on. I pushed harder, trusting in the car, trusting in myself.

By lap 50, I had made my way into P2. Lando was just ahead of me, and though he was a formidable competitor, I could see the slightest hint of pressure in his driving. I wasn’t going to hold back now. The finish line was within reach, and all I had to do was give it everything I had.

As I came up behind him on the penultimate lap, I could hear his radio crackling with instructions, the team urging him to keep his pace steady. But I wasn’t going to let up. I lined up my move, staying tight behind him as we approached the final stretch. My heart was pounding in my chest, my hands steady on the wheel, my mind laser-focused. I had one chance.

With a burst of speed, I pulled out from behind him on the final straight, going for the inside line as we approached the final corner. My tires screamed against the tarmac, and I felt the car sliding slightly, but I held it together, cutting across the apex with precision. For a moment, time seemed to freeze as I passed Lando and shot into the lead.

Crossing the finish line in P1 was like nothing I had ever experienced before. The world seemed to come to a halt as I threw my fist up in victory, my heart hammering in my chest. I had done it. I had won my final Grand Prix of the season.

Lando came in right behind me in P2, and Carlos Sainz rounded out the podium in P3. The sound of the engines dying down was replaced by the roar of the crowd, their cheers shaking the very foundation of the circuit. The celebration was already underway, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming relief. This was my moment. This was what I had fought for.

I climbed out of the car, my hands shaking from the sheer intensity of it all. I stood on the halo, the crowd erupting into cheers. The adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, but it wasn’t until I saw the camera flashes and the thousands of fans shouting my name that I realized what this victory meant. 

Landon reached me with a huge grin plastered on his face, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Without saying a word, he handed me my new all-black cowboy hat. It wasn’t just any hat; this one had been decorated with Aston Martin green gemstones, perfectly matching the team’s gear. The contrast of the black hat with the vibrant green accents made it stand out, almost like it had its own presence.

I balanced the hat carefully on my helmet, trying not to mess up the celebratory moment. My fingers were still buzzing from the victory, but I felt a surge of joy when I grabbed the flag from Landon. The US flag. It was tied tightly to a pole, and as I waved it above my head, the crowd's energy seemed to intensify. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment from every angle, and I took a few seconds to savor the moment. This was my victory, and I was going to share it with everyone who had believed in me.

As the flashes slowed, I took the flag off the pole, the fabric still rippling in the wind, and handed it back to Landon. He smiled, nodding in approval, and I felt a sense of pride wash over me. But the real fun came next.

With a cheeky grin, I jumped off of the car, the adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. I unfurled the flag and draped it around myself like a cape, letting it fall over my shoulders as if I were some hero emerging from a battle. The colors of the flag were vivid and bold against the backdrop of the circuit, and I twirled a little, letting the fabric catch the breeze.

Lando came over first while I was removing my helmet and balaclava, his smile wide as he clapped me on the back. “You did it! You really did it!”

I grinned, barely able to contain my excitement. I placed the cowboy hat back on my head before responding sarcastically. “Yeah sure, I won a race again, But you my friend just won the constructors team championship!” I said, turning to give him a quick hug yet unable to contain my adrenaline as I bounced a little.

Finally we were on the podium and handed our awards. The US national Anthem echoed through the circuit before finally ending as the more exciting part came. 

Carlos and I had whispered a small plan to each other beforehand. I was super excited to put our plan into action. I grabbed the bottle, shaking it up with a grin, and before Lando could even react, I drenched him in champagne just as Carlos did the same from my left. His laughter echoed through the air as I sprayed him from head to toe, the bubbles foaming up as he tried to shield himself. “You look great in champagne, Lando!” I laughed, my heart light with joy. 

The crowd was still roaring, but there was something more important in that moment—the team had done it. McLaren had finally taken home the Constructors’ Championship, and Lando was grinning like the Cheshire cat. “I can’t believe we finally did it!” he shouted, wrapping me in another hug. I laughed and quickly responded. “I am so proud of you and Oscar for finishing the fight so strong!”

Carlos joined the hug soon after, a proud smile on his face as we celebrated together. The atmosphere was electric, a mix of excitement, joy, and pride. This was what it was all about. It wasn’t just the individual victories—it was the team effort, the long road we had all traveled to get here.

I stood there, on the top step of the podium, looking out over the sea of fans who had witnessed the culmination of my rookie season. I had fought for this, and now, I was holding the trophy in my hands. It felt like the start of something incredible, the beginning of a journey that I couldn’t wait to continue.

But for now, I took a moment to let it all sink in. The cheers, the champagne, the podium—all of it. I had earned this. This was my victory, and it was only the beginning.

The post-race interview began, the energy in the room was electric. The top three finishers—Lando, Carlos, and me—sat side by side, basking in the glow of the race's excitement. The usual round of questions came through: How did you feel about the race? What was going through your mind during those final laps? It was light, easy stuff, designed to keep the mood celebratory.

But then, as expected, the big question came. The interviewer, a woman with a big smile and an even bigger curiosity, turned to me with a gleam in her eye.

"So," she began, "your helmet today was an interesting touch, hinting at something big for your future in racing. Any chance you’d like to share what’s next for you?"

The question hung in the air, and I could feel the weight of it. My eyes flicked over to my PR manager, who was standing off to the side, looking calm but focused. She gave a subtle nod, signaling that it was time.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself for the big reveal. "Yes," I said, the word hanging in the air as my heart raced. "I’ve signed a contract with Cadillac for 2026. I’ll be joining them when they enter the grid, but for the 2025 season, I’ll be loaned out to VCARB to help them finish strong in these current regulations before the big changes come. I’ll be working with them to help find the places they may want to improve while also helping train a driver they are thinking about making their reserve or 2026 driver. I can’t tell you more than that when it comes to VCARB as I don’t even know who they are basically asking me to mentor or what role I am mentoring him to do best.” That was a lie of course but I loved a little mystery and I am sure their media tema would love to keep some mystery still. “This is a huge step forward in my career, and I’m incredibly excited about what’s to come."

The moment I finished speaking, I felt a rush of emotions. There was relief in finally being able to share this chapter of my story, but there was also something else—hope, excitement, and pride.

Carlos, sitting next to me, let out a loud, joyous laugh. "Aha! That’s amazing!" he exclaimed, his usual smooth confidence replaced by genuine enthusiasm. "I’m so glad to hear that you’ll still be around! You’ve been a fierce competitor, and it’s going to be even better having you on the grid next season."

Lando, sitting on the other side of me, gave me a playful shove. "I knew you weren’t going anywhere," he teased, a grin on his face. "I would’ve missed you too much. Who else am I going to mess with during race weekends?"

I laughed, appreciating the lightheartedness they brought into the moment. "Well, now you have even more reason to train hard, huh?" I replied, smiling warmly at Lando who looked confused before I responded again. “Can’t mess with me if you aren’t on my level.” This caused laughs to erupt around the room, the most noticeably being Lando who covered his face in embarrassment. 

"But seriously," Lando added, his voice softening just a little, "I’m really happy for you. You deserve this. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you next season."

Carlos nodded in agreement, his smile genuine. "You’re going to be a real asset to VCARB. We all know how tough it’s been for them, but with you there? They’ll definitely be making waves. And then, in 2026 with Cadillac, you’ll be unstoppable."

I smiled at both of them, feeling a deep sense of camaraderie. "Thanks, guys," I said, my heart full of gratitude. "Having you both here makes all of this even more special. You’ve been such great friends, and I couldn’t have asked for better people to share this journey with."

The interviewer smiled, clearly impressed by the camaraderie among us. "Sounds like the grid is about to get a lot more exciting with you around, huh?" I nodded, feeling the excitement bubbling up once again. "Definitely. It’s going to be a wild ride, but I’m ready for it. And I can’t wait to see how everything unfolds."

As the interview wrapped up and we stood to leave, Lando gave me a quick side hug. "See you out there, future Cadillac champion," he joked, winking at me.

Carlos gave me a fist bump, his eyes filled with respect. "We’ll be seeing you, no doubt. And you better bring that fire to the grid next season." The room seemed to buzz with energy as I sat smiling, the weight of the future feeling lighter now that I’d shared it with everyone. 

The night was alive with energy, the celebrations wild and unrestrained as the entire paddock let loose. The adrenaline from the race still pumping through my veins, I couldn’t help but feel free, the weight of the past season finally starting to lift off my shoulders. People were cheering, laughing, dancing—everything was so vibrant, so alive. It felt like a world away from the intensity of the circuit, and for once, I let myself fully indulge in the freedom, the joy of it all.

Alcohol flowed like it was water, glasses clinking around me in toast after toast. I felt light, tipsy but happy, letting the music take over as I danced with my friends, lost in the excitement of the moment. I wasn’t thinking about the past. I wasn’t thinking about the things that had tried to break me. I was just living in the present, in this incredible victory.

But then, of course, as the night wore on, the crowds became a little more chaotic. People spilled out from the bars and clubs, mixing together in a sea of celebration. The music grew louder, the lights flashing in an almost hypnotic pattern. I had found Max earlier in the evening, sharing a laugh with him and a few others, but now, as I stood in the middle of the crowd, it became hard to spot him.

The buzz in the air shifted. I could feel it in my chest. My senses heightened. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe just the lingering unease that had followed me through the past season. But then I saw him.

A man—someone I didn’t recognize—was making his way through the crowd. His eyes locked onto mine, a smirk spreading across his face. Something about the way he looked at me made a shiver run down my spine. It was as if he knew something about me, something I didn’t want him to know.

His presence reminded me too much of Henry—the way he exuded a sense of control, a sense of entitlement. The way he was acting like I owed him something, like I was just another piece in a game he was playing. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my stomach twisted. I tried to brush it off, but the encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I wanted to get away from him—fast.

In the crowd, I started moving, pushing through the throngs of people, my heart pounding a little too fast for comfort. But my vision kept flickering back to him, his eyes following me like a shadow. He wasn’t going to stop, I realized. He was going to keep coming closer, keep circling until I was backed into a corner.

Panic started to rise in me, a feeling I hadn’t let myself truly experience in a long time. I pushed through the crowd again, trying to find someone—anyone—to break the tension. That’s when I finally spotted Max again, or at least I thought I did. His familiar figure was just ahead, but in the chaos, I lost sight of him before I could reach him.

The frustration bubbled up. The fear mixed with confusion, and my mind started to race. I wasn’t about to let myself spiral again. Not now, not in front of everyone.

But just as I began to panic, my phone buzzed in my pocket, a lifeline in the midst of the crowd. I pulled it out quickly to check who it was—Lando. The message was simple: Where are you?

I felt my chest loosen a little, just knowing someone was looking for me. I typed back, trying to keep myself steady: lost in the crowd, send help lmao

Before I could type any more, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around, ready to react. But it wasn’t the man from before. It was Franco, a look of concern on his face as he pulled me into a quick, tight hug.

“You good?” he asked softly, his voice steady, calming, like a balm to the rising anxiety in my chest.

I nodded, trying to keep it together. “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”

Franco didn’t let go of me, but his presence was grounding. I felt the tension in my body begin to ease, even if just a little. “I know something has affected you but I am here now, you don’t have to say anything, I’m just here,” he murmured into my ear as he gave me a small soft hug.

I pulled back just enough to see his face. “Thanks,” I said quietly, feeling a strange mix of relief and something else—something warm, safe.

But before I could say anything more, another voice cut in. Lando had appeared from behind Franco, his usual cheeky grin on his face, though it didn’t hide the concern in his eyes. “There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said, his tone light but with an underlying edge of worry.

“I’m fine… now, I’m fine now that you two are here with me.” I replied, allowing myself to be honest with them. The past few minutes had left me feeling rattled, but now, with Franco and Lando here, I couldn’t help but feel a little more secure.

“You know we’ve got your back, right?” Lando added, his expression serious for a moment. “We’re not letting you out of our sight again.”

I smiled, the tension in my body slowly dissipating as I realized just how lucky I was to have people like them looking out for me. They didn’t have to care, didn’t have to be there for me like this. But they were.

Franco stepped back slightly, glancing between Lando and me. “We’re staying with you tonight. No arguments.”

And somehow, even though I was the one who was supposed to be strong, it was exactly what I needed to hear. It wasn’t about being strong on my own. It was about knowing I had people to lean on.

Lando wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and Franco placed his hand on the middle of my back, both offering me a kind of comfort that, despite my earlier unease, made everything feel a little bit better. We walked together through the crowd, the sounds of celebration continuing around us. And as I walked through the crowd with Franco and Lando flanking me, I realized just how far I had come—and how much further I was ready to go.

The crowd around us was cheering, music was blasting, and the air was thick with excitement. Yet, amidst all the noise and the chaos, I found myself focusing on the quiet moments between Lando and I, those small exchanges where our eyes locked just a little too long or where the corners of our mouths twitched upward at the same time.

Lando’s presence was comforting, grounding in a way I hadn’t expected. Since the Vegas crash, he had been there, providing an anchor when I needed it most. Now, celebrating together felt… different. I couldn’t help but wonder if something deeper was quietly blooming between us. I caught his eye as a slow song began, and for a second, the noise of the crowd seemed to fade. I smiled, and he returned it with that knowing grin that made my heart race. It felt almost like an unspoken connection, a quiet bond that neither of us had put words to, but one that was palpable all the same.

Before I could dwell on it for too long, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I found Franco standing there, grinning widely. "Hey, I just wanted to say, that race—was incredible," he said, his eyes alight with admiration. There was something in the way he said it, like he was seeing me in a new light.

"Thanks," I replied, my voice softening as I looked at him. "It felt like everything finally clicked today."

Franco nodded, his eyes not leaving mine. "Yeah, I could see that. You’ve come a long way." His gaze lingered a little longer, and I couldn’t help but feel the warmth between us. It wasn’t just the celebration, it wasn’t just the race—it was something unspoken that seemed to grow stronger the longer we stood there.

For a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the room. The world around us slowed, the noise dimmed, and all that mattered was the shared understanding between us. But just as I was about to say something, the spell was broken.

From behind, I heard an all-too-familiar voice—drunken and loud—"Oi! What’s going on here?" Liam stumbled into our little bubble, his eyes narrowed, and a playful but protective smirk on his face. "Don’t think I didn’t see that, Y/N. What do you think you’re doing, huh?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge of possessiveness in it.

I let out a small laugh, but before I could say anything, Hannah appeared beside him, her expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Liam," she said, her voice firm but gentle, "you’re drunk. Let them be." She turned to me, her eyes softening. "Can you talk some sense into him? He’s been talking about you like you’re his lost puppy for the past half hour."

Liam pouted, his arms crossed over his chest. "I’m not drunk!" he protested, but his slurred speech said otherwise. "I’m just looking out for my best mate here. You can’t just steal her away, boys." He pointed to Lando and then Franco, who each raised an eyebrow in response but remained silent, clearly amused by the situation.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. "Liam, I’m not being stolen away. I’m not sure I could be stolen if I tried," I said with a playful wink. But my words only seemed to confuse him more.

Hannah sighed, shaking her head. "Just, come on. Let’s get you something to drink so you can calm down before you make a fool of yourself." She turned to me and smiled apologetically. "Sorry about this."

Liam’s pout deepened, but he finally let Hannah lead him away, though he shot me one last confused glance. As he stumbled off with her, I turned back to Lando and Franco, who were both watching me with soft smiles on their faces.

"Don’t worry," I said to them, shaking my head with a laugh. "Liam’s just protective. He’s like a big brother who doesn’t know how to share his toys."

Franco laughed, but there was a knowing look in his eyes as he added, "Well, it seems like you’ve got a lot of people looking out for you."

Lando chimed in, his voice teasing, "Guess that’s a good thing, huh? Just be careful—Liam might come back and try to hide you away in some hidden sanctuary."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile forming on my lips. "Let him try."

The moment was lighthearted, but something about it made my heart flutter. Lando, Franco, and even Liam—though drunk and ridiculous—had all been there in their own ways. It felt like more than just a victory in the race. It felt like a new chapter was unfolding in ways I hadn’t expected.

Helping Liam back to the hotel room was no easy feat. The moment we stepped into the hallway, his weight became a deadweight. Hannah and I shared a look of exasperation, but underneath it, there was an unspoken bond that made this all feel oddly familiar. We had done this before, back when Liam had first been called up to F1. His excitement and nerves had been a mixture of pure joy and overwhelming tension, and we'd found ourselves stumbling through late-night talks and drunken strolls across hotel corridors more times than I could count.

Tonight, though, the mood was different. He was drunk, but there was something behind his eyes, something deeper, that made the whole situation feel heavier than it should. We had been so used to his joking nature, the sarcasm and laughter, but tonight—well, tonight, he was different.

I smiled at Hannah as she helped support Liam's other side. "Remember when he got that call? The one to race in F1? He was practically shaking, and we couldn’t even get him to eat dinner that night."

Hannah chuckled softly, her eyes softening with the memory. "How could I forget? I thought he was going to throw up just from the excitement. He didn’t sleep for two days."

I let out a quiet laugh as we managed to shuffle him into the hotel room. Liam was mumbling, half incoherent, and definitely not in the mood for a joke now. The energy in the room had shifted, the weight of the night sinking in with the silence that followed.

When we finally got him onto the bed, we let him flop onto his back, the bed creaking under the shift of his weight. He let out a loud sigh, his eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to focus on the ceiling before ultimately falling onto me. But there was no humor now in his face. Only something deep and aching.

Hannah sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, watching him with concern. I stood near the door, waiting, unsure of what was coming next. I was ready to laugh it off, ready to tell him that he was just drunk, and it would all be fine in the morning—but then, something in the way he stared at me stopped me.

"Liam?" I said softly, my voice low, trying to gauge where his mind was at.

He turned his head slowly, blinking at us like he was seeing us for the first time. The tears welled up in his eyes, and my heart dropped. He wasn’t drunk in a carefree way anymore. This was something deeper, something raw, and it made me uneasy.

"I… I need to say something," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I… I’m so sorry."

I frowned, stepping closer to the bed, sitting down beside Hannah. "Liam, what are you talking about?"

His face twisted, his hands trembling as he reached up to rub his eyes. "I—when I caused the crash in Vegas, I—" He let out a shaky breath. "I thought I… I thought I just—hurt you. Or worse… killed you, Y/N."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn't expected this. He had always been the jokester, the guy who tried to keep everything light, but now—now I could see the weight of the guilt and fear he had been carrying for the last month. His words were slurred, but the meaning behind them cut straight to my core.

"Liam," I started, my voice barely above a whisper, trying to keep the crack out of it, "It was an accident. You didn’t mean for that to happen."

His eyes locked with mine, full of guilt and pain. "But I did cause it. I never should’ve been that aggressive during a practice session. I saw you flipping… I saw you, and I thought—" His breath caught in his throat, and his voice faltered. "I thought I just ruined everything. I thought I lost you forever."

The weight of his words hung in the air like a thick fog, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. The racing world could be so harsh, but I had never realized just how much it affected the people closest to me.

I reached out, my hand gently resting on his shoulder. "Liam, listen to me. I’m here. I’m okay," I said softly, trying to reassure him even though I wasn’t sure if I was comforting him or myself in the process. "That crash—it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. Nothing more."

"But I still felt it," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Every time I see you, I’m reminded of how close I came to losing you."

Hannah sat quietly beside him, her eyes soft and full of understanding. She knew what this meant. She had been through this with Liam before. The weight of racing, the pressure of what we do, and the responsibility that came with it, often left us carrying invisible scars that nobody else could see.

"You need to forgive yourself," Hannah said gently, her hand squeezing his. "It wasn’t your fault, Liam. You’re one of the best people we know, and this is just… one of those things that happened. You can’t carry it forever."

I nodded in agreement, my voice steady now. "You’re not alone in this, Liam. You never were. You’ll never lose me. Not like that."

He closed his eyes, a few tears slipping out. He didn’t say anything more, but I could see the relief slowly washing over him. The guilt, the fear, all of it—it wasn’t going to go away in an instant, but maybe this was the first step toward healing.

"I’m sorry," he mumbled again, his voice barely a whisper. "I just didn’t want to lose you."

"You haven’t," I reassured him. "And you won’t."

We sat there for a few more minutes, letting the weight of the moment settle in. Hannah continued to comfort him, and I stayed close, watching the man who had been there for me through thick and thin slowly let go of the burden he had been carrying for far too long.

Eventually, his eyes fluttered shut, and the alcohol seemed to lull him into a fitful sleep, his body relaxing into the bed. The room was silent for a moment, save for his steady breathing.

I leaned back, letting out a soft sigh. "He’ll be okay," I said to Hannah, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or myself.

She nodded, her eyes soft. "He will be. You’ve got each other."

And in that moment, with the faint hum of the hotel air conditioning and the quiet of the night around us, I felt a sense of calm I once never thought possible. Being here with my two childhood friends, sharing a moment that reminded each of us, just how much we were willing to do for each other. "I’m here, Liam," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. "And I always will be."

[poppitron360]

@cometmoons so for some reason tumblr has glitched and isn’t letting me respond to the ask you sent me so I’m just gonna do it like this.

OK OK OK OK OK OK SO-

There is SO MUCH to talk about with Wouldn’t You Like. I feel like it’s hard to describe on a written post so I took the liberty of downloading a music notation app and transcribing the bits I wanted to talk about (This took me aaaages. But it was a really fun process and taught me a lot.)

Be warned this is a LONG post.

Firstly, here’s my overall take on the narrative of this song:

Odysseus is one of the smartest heroes of Greek Myth. He’s a mentee of Athena. He’s tactical. Yes, he is a fighter, but he’s for the most part a strategist and he uses diplomacy and cunning and his words to defeat his foes. Big Slytherin energy. Up until this point, that’s all he’s ever used. Eurylochus has doubted and challenged this approach, and has now come to him, saying that Circe is too powerful to defeat and that they should just run away. Odysseus “Pride is my fatal flaw” of Ithaca is insisting on fighting Circe, but is realising that he might not be able to talk his way out of it.

Hermes has now shown up like “hey ✨dAhLiNg✨how about you try something different? DRUGS!”, offering him a taste of something he’s never had before… power.

This, in my opinion, is a big step in Odysseus’ fall from man into monster, and Jay uses music in so many different ways to convey that, so let’s start with a break down of the song one section at a time:

Intro:

For most of the song, you’ve got the Lyre/Harp playing- Hemes’ signature instrument, which is significant to him because according to myth he invented the Lyre. This is the first thing we hear in the song, immediately setting up the things you need to identify his character.

Harps and Lyres are typically used in film and videogame music to give a mystical, magical atmosphere. I love how Jay blends modern (1980s) Synthpop with more classical, eclectic instruments that don’t normally fit the style. I’m assuming for budgeting reasons he’s using a VST or some kind of sample pack and not a real harp (session musicians are EXPENSIVE), but still- you hardly ever hear a harp in this kind of music but it WORKS.

The introduction played by the harp also lays out something that is shown throughout the whole song:

AEOLIAN MODE!!!!

Modes are hard to explain bc I barely understand them myself (I said music theory was my special interest, not that I was any good at it) but according to the Wikepedia article I’m reading about them right now, they were used a lot in ANCIENT GREECE. The Aeolian mode specifically was used a lot back then. The word “Aeolian” comes from… you guessed it- the Islands of Aeolus!!!

Aeolus, being the God of the wind- Aeolian mode is this mystical, free-flowing mode that simulates the feeling of wind.

You know when you hear a high wind through a telegraph pole you get this whistling sound? That’s basically a rudimentary, naturally occurring Aeolian Harp. There’s a whole Physics lecture about sound frequencies and microtones and shit in here that I am not yet qualified to give but this kind of stuff FASCINATES me about music.

I found this 60sec short that explains Aeolian mode really well from a channel I really like: https://youtu.be/bJ6TRQ3k45Q?si=sksSz4xyf_96uMrp It’ll give a much more concise explanation than I could, but basically all you need to know is that the melodies are in this special scale.

Aeolian mode is the natural minor scale. It’s often used to feel spooky and mystical- perfect for a song like Wouldn’t You Like where this magical character is singing about a magical plant. It’s not the standard G minor scale, but something a little more twisted and not really something we’re used to hearing, giving it a mysterious quality.

This is established immediately by the harpline, and sets the entire tone of the song. We then hear his trademark giggle, and so in the first 3 seconds we know everything we need to know about who Hermes is and what he’s like.

Speaking of the giggle- I briefly mentioned Panning in my post about Scylla, and while I can’t discern any use of it just by listening, but I imagine Jay’s probably used a subtle amount of it to give the sense of Hermes flying overhead.

Panning is a thing done in audio production where you can choose how much of the sound is heard on the left or the right.

Verse 1 (“I must say”… etc.):

It’s very gentle at this point, the orchestration and vocalisation is calm and lilted. It’s very beautiful, although the minor tonality gives it a slightly uneasy feel. (Often the minor key is described as sounding “sad”, but that’s not always the case. This is a great example).

The harp melody is repetitive, giving a sense of persistence, this adds to the sense of unease. It also has elements of hip-hop, as a gentle beat comes in as the chorus starts.

Chorus 1:

Now the harp cuts out and you’ve got that synth bass-line coming in- the repetitive, insistent beats and this “four-on-the-floor��� drum pattern where the bass drum (which sits on the floor) kicks on every beat (in a four-beat bar). This feeling of it almost pounding in your head on every thump.

The instrumentation is very stark, you’ve just got the vocalist, the bass, and the bass drum. This technique is used by Taylor Swift in both the songs “Look What You Made Me Do” and “Vigilante Shit”- this really makes you listen to the lyrics as there’s nothing distracting you. As this is the first time we’re hearing these words, it draws you into what he’s saying.

On the line “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic?”, the Lyre comes in, playing this repetitive line that goes up and down and up and down. It’s a repetitive, almost hypnotic sound.

Verse 2 (“She can turn you to an animal”… etc.):

This is when this bluesy piano comes in.

The piano is used a lot in different points of Epic- it’s an essential part of any musical orchestra pit or just a song in general, and crucial in every composers instrumentation arsenal (and was also the first instrument I ever learned to play and my first real taste of music, so it’s not like I’m biased or anything)- but it’s mostly associated with Athena as it’s her signature instrument. It’s a stretch, but my interpretation is that Hermes is trying to appeal to something familiar to Odysseus. So far the only God he’s interacted with at length is Athena, who taught him this idea of being strategic and tactical. Hermes is acknowledging that this is Odysseus’ main way of fighting, while also showing him that there could be something more to it.

The piano plays these low-octave chords in this syncopated rhythm, which adds a layer of intensity that you didn’t have in verse one. This continues into the second chorus.

Chorus 2:

The orchestration is much more intense, pulling the audience (and Odysseus) in.

I’m gonna talk a lot about the musical “language” that Jorge has established for the universe- bits of music theory he’s tied in with themes that don’t necessarily have the same connotations anywhere else, because I think it’s genius.

Jay has said that the mythical beings (Gods, monsters, Odysseus when he kills the suitors) are all able to summon non-diagetic backing vocalists to back them up. Interestingly, Hermes doesn’t use this the first time round, speaking to Ody on his level, and is now rising up and displaying the power he’s tempting him with.

This is when we first hear the backing vocalists. There’s now a group of voices, so there’s more people urging you to taste the flower. Musically speaking, the harmony moving in the same rhythm with the same words as the soloist creates a sense of movement, congruent with Ody’s temptation.

Here is where we get to how this harmony works. This is the section that will actually answer your question.

First of all, I also struggle with overstimulation so I totally get what you’re talking about. There’s a right way and a wrong way to do backing vocals, and I know from experience that writing harmonies as complex as this takes skill and practice.

I think that’s why music is so special to me. The sensory calm certain sounds and songs give me, the good kind of stimulation and the bad kind. It has always made me so curious as to why and how the choices made in music can impact a person psychologically, make the listener feel immersed in a story, inflict specific emotions.

This is what fascinates me about music theory. Yes, it should overwhelm you. Yes, it should sound wrong. But it doesn’t. It WORKS. And what’s so interesting to me is why.

Jorge describes it as “crunchy and punchy” which is honestly perfect.

He is of course, referring to dissonance.

I have been studying music most of my life, and pretty much every music teacher I’ve ever had describes dissonance as just “sounding smushy”. It’s actually “a lack of harmony among musical notes”, usually two notes next to each other played at the same time.

But why does this sound “crunchy” and not “smushy”?

The Melody remains modal, as it has done the entire song. This is our grounding, our “Home”, but the harmony does something different. It’s moving down and up, flowing like wind, like the sea. And it’s doing this chromatically- using notes from the G minor key instead of the Aeolian mode- which creates clashes. Also known as dissonance. Also known as “smushy”.

And this is where we break out the good ol’ notation! I transcribed this myself by ear, so it might not be perfect. I can sight read tablature but not sheet music, so if this is wildly off then I’m sorry. I find it easier to explain music through annotations, but in order to make this screenreader accessible, I’m just gonna cite the lyrics and explain it in the text underneath.

In this section, “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic? Wouldn’t you like your outcome preferred?” The melody pretty much remains on C this whole time, only changing at the end of each two-bar phrase. This gives a forceful, repetitive, driving feeling. Hermes is being very persistent here.

For the first two-bar phrase- “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic”- both harmonies are the same. They then split at “Wouldn’t you like your outcome preferred?”

“Wouldn’t you”- The harmony starts on G, which is the root of G minor (the key that we are in). This is diatonic (using the notes from the key)- so it sounds nice, not “smushy”.

“Like to”- We then go down to F sharp, which is dissonant to the Aeolian mode, even though it’s the major 7th of G minor. This is why it sounds “smushy”

“Have some of the”- And here is where the “crunchiness” kicks in. It’s resolving down to the flattened 7th, which is F natural. The flattened 7th is the modal note.

“Magic”- The first two-bar phrase ends in E natural, which is dissonant to the mode. The melody also ends in D, which provides a lot of dissonance with the E as they are right next to each other, which can create clashes.

“Wouldn’t you”- This is where the two harmonies split. Harmony 1 goes back to G, which is the root of the mode. Harmony 2 goes down to E flat, which is also consonant (not dissonant).

“Like your”- Harmony 2 goes down to D, which is dissonant with the note in the melody (C) because they are next to each other. Harmony 1 goes to F sharp, which is dissonant to the Aeolian mode, as said before.

“Outcome”- Harmony 1 resolves to an F, and Harmony 2 goes back to an E flat.

“Preferred”- The last two notes “smush” as F natural (Harmony 1) and E natural (Harmony 2) are a semitone apart, then both harmonies join at E natural, which clashes with the D in the melody.

So the pattern goes from “nice” to “smush” to “nice” to “smush” to “nice” to “smush” to “nice” to “even more smush” and then when the next part of the harmony starts “deep in the night” you resolve back to the G, which is the tonic note.

Why does the dissonance work in this song?

It’s passing. Going down by step and resolving to a modal note. Passing notes that resolve don’t have that smushyness. They crunch.

Dissonance is a funny thing. Often musicians stay away from it because it sounds muddy and awkward and not great, but it can at times sound quite sweet, and with skill and knowledge you can learn how to use it effectively.

It also works here because it fits with the aesthetic and Hermes’ character. We’re already in this spooky, mysterious mode. We’re in a minor key. And Jay is using all these other musical techniques to give a slightly uneasy, hypnotic feel. The dissonance feels strange- not the sweet, diatonic harmonies we’re used to hearing. This is what makes this song stand out, and what makes Hermes such an intriguing and appealing character.

There’s this “up and down” melodic pattern that occurs throughout the song in several places. While Harmony 2 is doing that, Harmony 1 is just going down, repeatedly. I find it interesting that Odysseus isn’t rising to this power, but falling to it. It hints at Hermes’ trickster nature. These musical motifs (harmony, the harpline, the synthline, etc.) go up and down and up and down and up and down like gentle waves. We’re on the ocean. It’s lulling, compelling, hypnotic. “Come hither” whispering in the ear. It’s creepy, to be honest, and shows a darker side of the song that I will talk about later.

Bridge (“Here in the root of this flower”…etc):

Jorge has talked about how this is one of his favourite bits to sing, and musically that makes perfect sense.

Firstly, you’ve gotta hand it to Troy Doherty’s amazing performance. Hermes is so expressive even without seeing him.

Quick note about vocal techniques- YOU CAN HEAR SMILES. The act of smiling changes the shape of your mouth and thus changes the quality of your voice. You can HEAR Troy break out into a smile on the line “Though it’s only for a moment, ‘til you’ve beaten your opponent”. This is also my theory as to why the line “Penelope Whyyyy, you know I’m too shyy” is so stuck in everyone’s mind. Try singing it without smiling and then try singing it while smiling. Do you think it would’ve been that catchy if Jay wasn’t such a cutie pie?

Smiling is contagious, even if you’re only subconsciously noticing it. Hearing a smile gives you that little hit of dopamine.

When we hit the bridge, the piano, bass, and backing vocals cut out. Again, it’s just drums, harp, and lead vocals. This signifies a new section of music and also does the same trick as before- drawing you into the vocalist- but this time making you focus on the melody instead of the lyrics.

This whole bit is solely in Aeolian mode. The downward motion of the bridge increases the intensity of the song, dragging you into his words, falling into the power of the root. It’s sort of a callback to the downward motion to the second harmony line.

The constant quaver rhythm of this rising and falling conjunct “stepwise” melody gives a spiralling feeling, leading downwards. The rhythm is almost conversational, which fits with a mode like Aeolian that flows like the wind. It’s also why it’s so catchy and fun to sing. I love how Jorge composes in this uncommon scale in this particular pattern to reflect this idea.

There’s also one particular detail about the rhythm of this riff that compositionally shows something even deeper:

THIS IS IN TRIPLETS.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT TRIPLETS SYMBOLISE IN EPIC???

RUTHLESSNESS.

Ruthlessness is usually a theme reserved for Poseidon, Act 1 Athena, and Act 2 Odysseus. You wouldn’t expect a “friendly” God like Hermes to be using it. But he is. He’s being persistent, constant. He is trying every trick in his bag to persuade Ody to take the flower.

Jay is VERY deliberate about his arrangements and his composition, so this is not a coincidence. He has established this “language” of musical voices, rhythmical voices, and motivic voices to symbolise all his characters and themes. It’s fascinating to me that he made this choice for Hermes. Ever so subtly hinting that the God might not be as benevolent as he seems.

Chorus 3:

The instrumentation of this new chorus is pretty similar to Chorus 2, except…

These DRUMS.

I asked my dad about these while I was staying with my parents over the Xmas holidays, and it resulted in a 5-minuite-long infodump about a specific type of drum used in 80s pop music (yeah I totally definitely don’t see the family resemblance at all /sarcasm). Any Brit in the audience might recognise this drum sound as sounding almost identical the intro to a show called East Enders (which I never watched, but was aware of) and idk if that was Jay’s intention, but the drums apparently have a long and complicated history, which I will give you the abbreviated version. (If this is too much information you can skip the next paragraph if you so wish, I realise this can be overwhelming)

Bass drum called the Simmons’ drum- electronic drum pad- famous for being hexagonal- they were radical in that they gave an electronic palette to modern dummers- they weren’t well-built and the very earliest ones were made from the same composite materials as police riot gear- caused repetitive strain injury that became known by session drummers as “Simmon’s wrist” because it was a bit like using your drumsticks on concrete (What’s that? You don’t think music is as intense as sport? Musicians get injured just as much as footballers do)- the sound is one of the most distinctive sounds in 80s music and entirely synthetic, generated through synthesis so some poor technician had to sit and programme a synthesiser to sound like a tom-tom- in the 90s and early 00s it was seen as cheap and over-the-top but is now looked on with a sense of love and nostalgia.

This is, of course, a sample of the Simmon’s drum as I doubt Jorge owns a real one.

So what does that do for Hermes? It grounds the song it its 80s retro aesthetic, creating Hermes’ unique stylistic voice. Jorge has described how he got the idea for Hermes’ sound when he saw a retro, multi-coloured lamp that made him think of 80s music. Each character in Epic has their own soundscape, and this very particular drum sound adds to it.

It also adds intensity to this final chorus. These loud, heavy drum sounds give that adrenaline rush that the previous verses and choruses have been building to, when Odysseus finally takes the flower.

Then we get Odysseus singing the “oOOOooOoOOhHHHhs” as he eats the holy moly, then the chorus ends, and we get a repeat of the harpline from the intro as he thanks Hermes for the help.

My conclusion:

Odysseus has made a Faustian pact with Hermes, the trickster god. While Hermes’s words are friendly with no ill-intent, the composition and orchestration lean more towards this idea of “making a deal with the devil”. Gods know the game, and how it’s played. You, mere mortal, do not. When they entreat mortals to do their bidding will offer riches, money, fame, success, magic, power, but very rarely are their motives sound.

This is Odysseus’ first taste of the magic that separates gods and monsters from mortals. He is able to fight Circe as an equal, and this new development teaches him that he doesn’t always have to be strategic and diplomatic, but ruthless and relentless as well.

I know that the fandom see Troy Doherty’s performance of Hermes as “omg babygirl so slayyyy!!!” But there’s actually a deeper level to what he’s doing here. He’s a trickster God, tempting and teasing Odysseus down a path of magic and power- giving him the first taste of something that will later drive him into becoming the Monster. Hermes is almost seducing him to the dark side, using rhetorical questions, waving the Holy Moly in front of his face and saying “Come on. You know you want it. Wouldn’t you like a taste of the power? Wouldn’t you like to be victorious for once?” In his lyrics describing a “taste” of the power being something almost like a temptation. Odysseus is breaking from his norm- using magic and might instead of logic, diplomacy and reasoning. While he’s doing it to save his men, this is a major step in his descent into monsterhood, and it’s fascinating how Jay does this not only lyrically, but musically as well, using what’s called “word painting” (music and words working together) to create the sense of hypnotism and manipulation.

Hermes is being:

Ruthless (triplets),

Ceaseless (repetition),

Persuasive (rhetorical questions),

And hypnotic (lilting, lulling melody).

He’s drawing you in, forcing you to listen to him (stark instrumentation focusing on the vocals, then increasing the instrumentation as the intensity progressively increases, culminating in this big, expressive final chorus with this pwerful drum sound)

Overall Jorge uses all these techniques to show Hermes manipulating Odysseus into taking the flower. By subconsciously making you feel the temptation that Ody- the Narrator- is feeling through music and orchestration.

So anyway, those are my thoughts on “Wouldn’t you like”. I didn’t even have time to talk about “Dangerous”- perhaps I’ll make a separate post about that but no promises. Thank you so much for reading if you made it to the end!

[lansseaux]

Moments are best lived involved

Pairing: Mom! caitvi x daughter! reader

Synopsis: Vi changes the bandage over Cait’s eye whilst you try to get their attention

Warnings: S2 Act 3 spoilers

Author’s note: Going to do a couple different versions of this because I have soooo many ideas about Caitvi moms! trying to deal with their injuries and being moms ��� I’ll probably focus on Cait’s eye after the war just because Cait’s my favourite. The versions will include: the reader trying to mimic caretaking behaviour, the reader wanting an innocent sort of revenge (innocent since they wouldn’t have a proper concept of revenge) on the person who hurt their mother, the reader getting accustomed to bandages being changed roughly every x hours or medicine being taken every x hours (for example) and worrying that caitvi will forget when they go to sleep (thinking reader wakes them up in the middle of the night, but it’s a case of the increment being able to be skipped overnight), and either cait/vi struggling to do something with reader they did before they got injured. There might be more — those are just the versions off the top of my head.

Caitlyn and Vi were in their room, you were just about old enough to be left to your own devices and neither of them knew quite how you’d react to Cait’s wound. It was still fairly fresh, gnarly, and exposure was inevitable since Cait’s bandage needed to be changed frequently so they did their best to retreat into privacy. There was never any telling how long it’d take for you to grow bored of independent play however and it seemed today, time would not be on their side. “Mama?” You called, the sound of your footsteps dashing down the hall coming just as soon as Vi had unwrapped the old bandage. “Mama’s gonna get you!” Vi called over her shoulder, waiting a moment to listen out for the sound of your footsteps retreating again before she refocused. The response was almost immediate, the sound of you running in the other direction accompanied by squealing and laughter — it was the beginning to a simple but common little game where Vi would chase you around, tickling you upon catching up. A small smile had formed on Caitlyn’s face at the brief interaction and sound, faltering slightly as Vi made sure her wound was clean - despite the best attempt to be gentle. Soon, at the end of the hallway, you realised there were no footsteps. Your Mama wasn’t chasing you after all and so you began to run back towards their room, retreating when the claim came again, “Mama’s coming!” You didn’t pick up on her distracted tone.

“Sorry.” Vi murmured softly once Caitlyn failed to mask a sharp inhale, one hand on Cait’s cheek to keep her head steady as she disinfected her eye. “It’s healing well so far,” she reassured, setting a second only slightly bloody cotton ball onto a small plate with the Kiramman insignia. “Thank you.” Vi’s gaze returned immediately to Cait’s, “You don’t need to thank me every time, you know?” A half-tease backed by somewhat concerned intent, followed by a soft but amused sigh at the sound of your approaching feet. Cait chuckled softly, your footsteps were slightly apart - you were evidently trying to tiptoe and thought you were being much quieter than you truly were. “Excuse me?” Vi exaggerated as she unraveled a fresh bandage, a small giggle followed before you quieted yourself - quite obviously hoping they hadn’t heard. “Does mommy have to come tickle you too?” Vi had barely even managed to stand when your quick refusal came — being tickled by just Mama was barely tolerable for long — and your mother go to great efforts to suppress their laughter; Caitlyn, unsurprisingly, being more successful than Vi who has to pause before beginning to wrap the bandage over Cait’s eye. Confused by their laughter, you also pause — not wanting to be tickled but also now seeking reassurance. Once a couple layers have been wrapped, there’s no need to keep you at bay any longer and so neither discourage you when they hear you coming closer again. “Don’t tickle me!” You demand, slightly upset as the need for reassurance outweighs the fun of the game. “It’s alright.” Cait affirms whilst Vi remains focused on wrapping. You quickly sped closer at the affirmation, clambering onto a corner of their bed before settling beside Caitlyn, who had already opened an arm for you. Curious as ever, you watched at Vi as she secured the bandage in place; her concentration broke momentarily to blow a raspberry at you, earning herself an accusatory finger. “Mama, that’s naughty!”

“Naughty? That’s not naughty—” Vi tried to explain but you cut her off, “Mommy said it’s naughty!” Her eyes flickered to Caitlyn’s, at which Cait corrects, “I said, it’s impolite.” Vi scoffed playfully, “What’s impolite is not paying off your debts and *you*,” her gaze fell from Cait to you,* “have a debt to pay with the tickle monster!” Your squeal of protest was cut quickly cut short, giggles taking over as Vi tickled you. “Mama!” You just about managed every few seconds between giggles, the half-hug from Cait makes it even more difficult to escape though she soon withdraws her arm, a gentle smile on her face as he watched the interaction. A moment of reprieve is gifted before the tickling continues again, your breath barely caught and after a few more seconds, a small cough escapes between the sounds of laughter and Vi stops - the signal typically had Cait fussing but this time, Vi was a step ahead. She lifted you, a surrender cuddle ready but it seemed your cough did not mean your energy was spent just yet as you resisted in favour of trying to tickle her beneath her chin, giggling, only… it didn’t seem to work. “Are you challenging me?” Vi teased, ticking you gently for a moment as you squealed a protest, before returning you to Cait’s side — who quickly became your next victim. Her smile remained, amused by your antics, “Mommy’s not ticklish either.” The claim became void a second later when her armpit was caught in the crossfire. And as the air filled with shared laughter once more, Vi watched with a bittersweet smile — there had always been so many things she’d wished she could have changed, people she wished she could have saved, and yet… if she could, if she did, the possibility that you would never have come into her and Caitlyn’s lives, that she’d never have met Cait, was entirely plausible. She didn’t allow herself to dwell long enough to cry, playfully questioning who she should help, for moments were best lived involved.

[arnocto]

Do you have advice for a skinny guy looking to start their gaining journey? Especially around feeling self conscious and increasing appetite. Thanks!

So... It's gonna be a long answer, sorry for that hahaha

Yeah... It's a journey and it's always difficult to navigate between the kink, the real life, the healthy and the self-destructive aspect.

I'd say (and I am myself still working on it) that you have to get to know yourself, know what you love or what you like less, and why. Don't say you hate something about you, instead try to figure out why it's not something you appreciate, see if there's a way to change it, and if not, well try to accept it and find positive aspects to it.

Most important tip I could give: do whatever you do for you and only you. Even if you're into being sub, don't grow or do something you are not yourself willing to do. Plus! Don't try to look like someone els, having goals is nice, but you are unique and even if there are amazing shapes around social medias, pictures and videos are selected to show beauty and not reality. Try to be the best version of yourself and don't change to be someone you're not.

As for the capacity I tested a LOOOT of things since I am genetically programmed to be a twink, so I had to work on that.

There are some pills to help to grow appetit, such as fenugrec (well, it's Phytotherapie, so you need a long and massive exposition for it to work a little bit, really, but at least it's a mild approach) . I personally prefer the soft torture of funnel feeding.

BUT! please... Don't look at videos of gainers holding the funnel horizontally, it's not how it works. and they should know about that.

I personnaly started with a simple beer funnel with a valve that you can find on wish, temu, amazone, whatever, and every night I was chugging whole milk before bed after a nice last meal.

Why? Because we want you to be at full capacity, stomach stretched to his usual maximum.

The funnel, held vertically, will give pressure and speed to the milk (or whatever liquid you are using) and overstretch your full stomach. Overnight the liquid will be rapidly eliminated and leave behind an empty stomach with a larger capacity already. Do it regularily and you'll see a difference but take your time.

Be careful, don't overdo it, start with little volumes, take time to sit for awhile afterward and let the air out, try to have someone to support you especially in the beginning, and keep in mind that the higher the funnel, the stronger the pressure, if it's too much, bring it down a bit.

I started my first funnels with 500ml of milk and now I can chug up to 2liters of mass gainer in one go, approximatively 30 to 40 seconds.

Don't hesitate to ask me if you want more details, I hope I answered your questions.

Take care, and I hope you'll fulfill your dreams and stomach

[ewingstan]

It's worth noting how Ewing approached this idea from a different direction 8 years later in the wake of the first Hellfire Gala. For context: at this point in the continuity, mutants had created their own island paradise nation and pressured the international community to accept them as a sovereign state through the sale of cheap miracle pharmaceuticals. While the mutant nation of Krakoa is a sci-fi society of wondrous technology, its inclusion within Marvel's worldbuilding once again fails to cause a more general technological revolution—miracles like resurrection eventually see limited non-human use, but even the societal effect of panaceas being widely available for the average citizen isn't very explored. Iron Man and Mister Fantastic's level of innovation is available for a whole society, but once again not for the world.

However, a single society having an incredible technologic power advantage over everyone else is still a much more familiar set of circumstances, as is a society using such an advantage to claim territories and victories for itself. Hence, the first Hellfire Gala, where all the most powerful people on earth are invited for a celebration of Krakoan sovereignty and are surprised with an invitation to watch Mars be terraformed and colonized in a matter of minutes. It's one of my favorite moments within the whole Krakoa storyline, but my actual favorite moment comes from Ewing's follow-up in SWORD #6, when the attendees are reflecting on what they just saw.

I love this. The tie back to Tony's melancholy over Earth not reaching past the moon, referring back to a piece of characterization from over a decade ago. It's the type of consistency that shows how strong Ewing's conception of who these are as characters really is.

Speaking of which, this is one of the only moments where Steve Rodgers really worked for me as a character. Not as a coherent idea of an ideal America—"Oh, now the representation of USA is gonna lecture us about working with the larger international community" and all that. It's funny both in context of the history of the space-race and the USA's current fears of losing their place on the cutting edge of technology. But it's excellent at selling Rogers as someone filled with a kind of naive wonder, someone who takes to heart Armstrong's "for all mankind" speech while ignoring the accompanying act of flag-planting. Further, it has Rogers acting within the "mortal among titans" role he's often given within the Avengers, and using it to give a bit of the perspective to how the average Marvel citizen feels—not just about Krakoan advances, but in general about living in a world where so much of the setting's progress just passes them by, inaccessible.

So Marvel will lampshade the whole "the world is filled with superhuman inventors whose tech should have completely transformed society" thing. Sometimes they'll gesture to non-scalable resources, sometimes they'll make a somewhat paternalistic attitude towards society an acknowledged aspect of a genius' character. Hell, sometimes they'll bite the bullet and give the NYPD sci-fi stun guns. But outside what-ifs and various one-off storylines, the majority of non-cape society is planted firmly in the technological possibilities of the contemporary.

What I love about Iron Man: Fatal Frontier is how it positions the genius inventors as being as upset about that as anyone else.

That's just a great direction to approach that detail of Marvel's worldbuilding from. Not explaining away why the great technological revolution hasn't happened, but being quietly disappointed that they haven't created a great technological revolution. It plays well with Ewing's tendencies to play with the whole "illusion of change" thing as something characters notice and react to.

[gomzdrawfr]

OC doodle with the 141 - tw: alcohol, small mention of death

Honest Feelings

[mantisgodsdomain]

Finally, we get the opportunity to put our Spy Cards worldbuilding in a work. Though there are many questions about such things as "regulation" "how these cards are printed" "who approves a single spy card", and so on, we are here to present a bold new take: this game is based like 60% on obscure roach memory-reading tech that got turned into a card game with absolutely No card-game-related intentions included in the original tech and most of the card vetting is just from the fact that there aren't too many card printers out there and most of them make cards that need to be translated from Roach.

Strictly speaking, as a card game, it is not a terribly good or well-balanced one. It's popular primarily because of a mix of the difficulty involved in getting the data for high-level cards, the fun of seeing the variety of monsters that can be brought to the table, and the incredible amounts of ham and drama that goes into specifically the professional scene.

[phantom-overdose]

((If anyone ever wants to write with a scruffy, kind of (unintentionally) goofy, sweet but still totally animalistic, former prisoner, werewolf-esque, character (complete with wolf tail) who has read a bunch of self-help books and who is super committed once he falls in love, and who also just so happens to be from a post-grand-fairytales fairytale realm full of magic and chaos and all that good stuff... just, ya know, let me know <3))

[thedrotter]

redrew a few old expressions from february!!! one never notices how much their art style changes in some months till you compare side by side www

(the old ones for comparison ↓)

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

One chases after their dreams. The other fights for it.

>>> Next <<< Previous (Destiny Bond; a Pokémon fancomic --- pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11, ???)

[fatelcved]

writing kaiya's initial death and i'm clenching my fist bc i'm sad but also bc it's so good and makes me so!!! excited!!! to write again!!!

[bidokja]

oh my god a web novel that actually draws a realistic line in the sand about wierd transmigration age gaps??? the bar is so low but it sure is refreshing when a series clears it