#i meant to post it today actually but forgot

[jamboreeartsupplies]

those are a lil big for you buddy ~

just checking them out !!

[ninjasmudge]

your honour he cant help it hes a kitty. he missed them

[duketectivecomics]

So I think we can all agree that Editorial is a joke at this point right? I refuse to believe that there’s anyone even there at this point

[notmeowse]

That AMA marks the end of Dragon Age.

In my opinion.

I'll start by saying that I have played all 3 of the previous games repeatedly, I've loved the series for 15 years, more than half my life. These games inspired me to become a writer and they've shaped a lot of my tastes and interests in shows and writing -- to say they were formative is kind of an understatement. Don't want to go on and on about how much I loved them, that's not the point here.

I didn't care for Veilguard for pretty much all of the reasons people have already discussed at length on Reddit and Tumblr. The writing is comprehensively bad, the romances are easily the worst Bioware has written by pure virtue of having the most cookie-cutter pacing and shallow characterization I've seen across their games, the lore has been shafted in every direction, and the nuanced storytelling and roleplay I came to expect from the series has been taken out back and shot in the head.

All, apparently, in the name of a "clean slate". It seems to me that, rather than familiarizing himself with the existing lore of the game he took the creative reins on, Epler clearly had a vision for Dragon Age (or perhaps a different IP entirely) in his head that he decided to transplant into the game (and possibly Trick? But they've said so little beyond defending their work that I can hardly theorize what direction they were coming from). That being a sanitized, wildly self-contradicting, morally absolute shitshow focused on distancing itself from the previous games as much as possible. Now, I know it's unrealistic to blame one person entirely, and I don't blame him entirely. Corinne was there. Trick was there.

But if it wasn't already evident from the numerous interviews Epler's given on the game as well as his participation in the Q&A's (while the actual lead writer of the game has been completely absent in not just the marketing, but in most fan-related interaction pre and post-launch outside of BSKY), this AMA seems to have confirmed, more than anything else, that Epler doesn't understand the game nor does he understand its audience. Neither does Corinne Busche, who despite being Game Director for only the last two years of development, has been answering lore questions a) like she has any fucking clue and b) like she thinks Dragon Age is a cozy-gamer IP, meant to appeal to people that want uplifting stories with uncontroversial characters, morally upright heroes, and unquestionably evil villains.

So as of today's AMA, I think I've finally had enough. We're just outright retconning the lore in Reddit AMA's now, I guess. Among other things. I'll provide a few examples, just so we're all on the same page.

This was part of Epler's response to why Solas didn't have his cult following in the game (insert "We Kind of Forgot" meme here):

Solas' experience leading the rebellion against the Evanuris turned him against the idea of being a leader. You see it in the memories - the entire experience of being in charge ate at him and, ultimately, convinced him he needed to do this on his own. And his own motivations were very different from the motivations of those who wanted to follow him - he had no real regard for their lives or their goals. So at some point between Trespasser and DATV, he severed that connection with his 'followers' and went back to being a lone wolf.

The fact that this (the not caring bit) directly contradicts the writing in the actual game is absolutely INSANE to me, moreso than the lack of Solas's spy network (which he apparently carried with him for 10 years only to conveniently drop right before the ritual? Because he clearly had them research Rook?). But in regards to the not caring -- here's a line from Solas's memory of killing Mythal in Veilguard, which. I'll get to Mythal in a minute:

Why should I not tear down the Veil, and bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it!

Which is it? Does Solas care about the people he's saving (the venn diagram of people he's saving vs. the people following him is surely a circle, i.e. elves) or not? Does he even care about the spirits trapped behind the Veil anymore or is it just convenient to abandon them and have him only care about elves, now? What happened to saving The People? What happened to him not identifying as an elf in his conversations with a Dalish Inquisitor? And what the absolute fuck happened to him wanting to bring back the magical marvels (that the ancient elves did in fact achieve) that were greater than anything we see in Thedas today? Here's what Epler has to say about elven magic, now:

I do agree that the elves have had their place in the sun at this point. [...] The thing about the Evanuris is that, ultimately, they were able to take a very specific type of magic and shape it into doing what they wanted. But even their understanding of magic was only skin deep [...] Even the magic that Tevinter wields, the magic of the Southern mages, is different from what the Evanuris used. The magic of the Evanuris is powerful but it's sterile, and it's constrained. So while the Evanuris have made magic work in a way that's more predictable and understandable, it's not the only kind of magic out there, and even then, I'd say they understood it at a very surface level. People were confidently describing how the natural world worked back in the 16th century. Very few of them were right.

First of all, Tevinter has been stated in previous games to have clumsily adapted ancient elven magic for their own, but they did adapt it. To the point where even Solas is surprised that Corypheus achieved effective immortality -- by binding himself to a dragon the same way the Evanuris did. So, cool, more contradicting the lore here. "They understood it at a very surface level" you mean when all of the magic of the Fade wasn't locked behind the Veil? You mean when magic flowed freely through the world? What do you mean, Surface Fucking Level? The entire point of the Dalish elf culture is what they lost; this wasn't the ancient elves thinking the sun revolved around the earth, the Veil was their fucking Library of Alexandria burning. Oh my god. I still cannot believe he said this.

And how have the elves had their day in the sun? I'm sorry, was Arlathan not given to... the Veil Jumpers? Instead of the Dalish? What happened to all the Dalish clans in the south, who had no infrastructure when the world was apparently blighted to hell? I guess they're just gone now! They've had their day! The story of the Dalish and the Evanuris is over (also confirmed in this AMA), and it apparently ends with the final snuff of the candle that is their culture. Congratulations, Chantry, you've won! Only took two genocides and a double blight, but we're done with the Dalish now! We get your mind-numbingly superficial factions instead!

What happened to Mythal, by the way? What happened to "She was betrayed as I was betrayed, as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!" What happened to the reckoning that will shake the very heavens? John's answer to this:

People grow and change over time. Mythal's essence - and in particular, the fragment of her spirit that Morrigan carries, that she got from Flemeth - is not the same Mythal who he knew millennia ago. Centuries of living in this world and being around the kinds of people Flemeth found herself around - the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke, the Inquisitor - changed her views, and made her realize her own culpability in turning Solas into the kind of person he is now.

Oh, right, okay. So she was pissed for like a thousand years, got her big speech about the impending "reckoning" out 10 years ago, and then she just chilled out because the last 3 heroes were neat people. What a fucking joke. And yes, here is the confirmation that the Evanuris story is over --

The story of the Evanuris is done - the gods are dead (or imprisoned) and Thedas is in a state of flux and uncertainty. I imagine that whatever happens next is going to be a surprise to everyone, including the people of Thedas."

So I guess Mythal's reckoning is never coming. One of the most fascinating characters in the series, shrouded in mystery for those first 3 games, PROMISING US a blaze of glory, only to fizzle out in this one. Again, and I can't emphasize this enough, for Epler's clean fucking slate. And we've not just tied up her story, but also the Veil and the Blight:

When Solas bound himself (or, depending on your ending, was forcibly bound) to the Veil, it severed the connection that the Blight had to the waking world. The reality is that the Veil has been leaking ever since the Magisters first entered the Black City, and the dreams of the Titans gave it its terrible and awesome power. Now that the Veil is fully repaired, the Blight lacks that motive force, and being so close to the epicenter of that change has stripped the Blight in Minrathous of its vitality. It's calcified now - dead - and Bellara/Neve no longer suffer its effects. If they'd been anywhere else, further from that epicenter, it would've likely been different and they still would be looking for a cure.

So the Veil is permanently fixed now because our half-dead Dread Wolf bound himself to it (a decision I still don't understand) and that somehow fixed every single hole ever poked in it. Fully repaired. No more holes, no more "Veil is thin here" because tons of people died in the same spot, nope, we're washing our hands and leaving it (and the spirits) behind us because we've wrapped up both the series-long Veil storyline and the blight storyline in a big red bow.

And Epler tells us Solas not only bound himself to the Veil but fixed it entirely in one fell swoop, no ritual required, just a little slice to the hand. Again, all in the name of a clean slate, so any future installments or media centered around Thedas can turn away from this story.

Then there's this. What we can expect from future installments, I freaking guess. The aforementioned roleplay getting taken out back and shot:

Q: "What lead you to the decision to step away from active conversations with the companions as in previous Bioware games, where you can initiate them at any moment and ask exhaustive questions?"

John: "For us, because of tech limitations, it became a choice between exhaustive investigate conversations, or letting the companions move more freely around the Lighthouse. With the kind of experience we were going for, one where seeing the team grow around you is paramount, we felt that seeing them interact in common spaces (and in each other's rooms) made more sense."

Literally confirmed that they chose companions moving freely about the cabin over ... interacting with them outside the handful of cutscenes we got. Who in their right mind would think this was a good call in a Dragon Age game? A series that quite literally prides itself on complex character interactions and storytelling? So they could... sit in different places? Are you kidding me?

They don't see an issue with the game's reception. They don't have any interest in addressing or responding to criticism. They're either happy with their choices or EA's got a gun pointed at their heads, I'm honestly not sure anymore. I used to believe the latter was true, but looking at both Epler's and Busche's responses today, I'm inclined to believe the former.

So I think that's it for the series. Not that I thought it was going to get another game after this, but on the absolute off chance it did, what would be the point? The best stories were ruined. Anything left they have to tell is going to read a lot like Veilguard -- superficial, morally absolute, flagrantly disrespectful to the lore, and delivered in a very poorly written package.

[beeholyshit]

part 2/3...??

part 1/3?

What can guilt make to you...?

[sp0o0kylights]

Part one here:: link

"oh i dunno if Im going to finish this" I say, right before the plot ate me. anyway this was too big to post in full to tumblr. If you want the full, completed fic (with bonus Fun Fic Facts tm) it is finished and up on A03 here:: link

TW vomiting, drug use

Eddie is good.

Eddie is kind.

Eddie does not run over Henderson’s bike, laying haphazardly in Harrington’s pristine driveway, even if it would make him feel better. 

He does slam his van into park with enough force to make the brakes squeal, which he decides is an excellent way to announce his appearance to the entire neighborhood. 

It’s a move he’s pulled countless times. Charging in and making a scene meant people forgot that he couldn’t actually fight for shit, and equally, took their attention off whatever their original target was.

Which in this case, was Eddie’s too fucking nice freshman. 

The rage pulsing through him is white hot and all encompassing, and it’ll get him through a lot--but the switchblade he carries ensures everyone’s safety in these little matters. 

It makes him brave.

Braver than he should be really, but Eddie spent the entire drive over here chain smoking out the window while prepping for this little confrontation and the more he’d thought it all over, the madder he got.

That a washed up jock thought he could still take advantage of actual children. 

Nevermind Hellfire, or Henderson ditching, or Sinclaire’s ranting. 

This was about their relationship with Harrington. 

A picture has been building in Eddie’s head. One that’s only gotten clearer after today, and one he will be putting an end to, because he doesn’t believe for a second Harrington has a headache. 

Henderson might always be the smartest person in the room, but he’s dumb as hell socially. Too honest, too blunt, and frankly, too goodhearted. 

That makes him easy to take advantage of. 

Sinclair was worse--the guy was too easy to guilt trip. 

It was a noted issue with his ranger, and apparently, himself, and Eddie could easily see how Harrington could have twisted the idea of some ridiculous life-debt to keep Lucas in his clutches.  

Even Mayfield, Billy Hargrove’s former stepsister, was wrapped up in Harrington enough to have a go at her own friends over him! 

She wasn’t even one of his flock, but Eddie was her neighbor. Saw how her mom was barely home. How she was practically raising herself, head down, doing her best not to ever let people see her cry. 

Yeah.

Wouldn’t exactly be difficult for a guy like Steve Harrington to swoop in and take advantage there. 

Wheeler clearly wasn’t a fan and Eddie can only come up with reason after reason as to why--King Jackass had the poor kid’s entire friend group under some kind of--of sick spell.

Well. 

Eddie was here to break it. 

Even if it meant storming into the King’s castle by himself and calling him out on his shit. 

Nobody fucked with his people. Especially not douchebag, washed up jocks. 

He’s up to Harringotn’s ridiculous double doors in a flash, banging hard on the wood with a closed fist, positively fuming and uncaring of who sees. 

Surprise, surprise, it’s Henderson who opens it.

“Eddie?” He says, blinking up at him like he’s not sure of what he’s seeing.  “What are you--hey!” 

Hey, because Eddie’s pushed past him, storming into the house. 

“This has gone on long enough.” He announces, loud as he ever has been. “Where the hell’s Harrington?”

Henderson, frustratingly, does not weep or throw his hands up in celebration of Eddie’s incoming rescue. 

Which is fine--Eddie hasn’t broken the spell yet.

Unfortunately he is bitching, in that infamously annoying tone of his.

“Dude, shut up, Steve’s pills really only work for like, an hour--” 

“Fantastic, he’ll be clear headed for our little talk.” Eddie tells him, head sweeping left and  right as he looks for his target. He’s been in Casa de Harrington a few times before to deal, but it was always at night.

He can now say with perfect honesty that the place looks worse in the bright light of the day. 

“Was that Eddie?” Sinclair calls, and Eddie orients towards him instantly, storming down the hall. 

It doesn’t take long to find the kid. 

 Lucas is standing in a kitchen larger than Eddie’s entire trailer, a too-large pink apron drowning his frame. 

He turns, revealing the front of the thing has  ‘Whisk Taker’ written on it in syrupy white font. 

(Baking puns. Disgusting.) 

“Are you cooking?” Eddie accuses with a sneer, though his disgust isn’t aimed at the freshmen. 

This is exactly what he was afraid of finding. 

Lucas just stares at him. “Uh--yeah?” 

“What did I say about too many people, Munson?” Mayfrield spits angrily. It takes a second to locate her--the kitchen is enormous and far too white--but eventually Eddie realizes she’s perched up on a counter next to the largest sink he’s ever seen. 

For a second, Eddie thinks that’s just where she’s chosen to sit. Then she moves, and he realizes she’s washing and drying a series of water bottles. 

He never in his life thought he’d witness Maxine Mayfield willingly do someone else's dishes. 

“Someone get me Harrington.” He’s not trying for anything dramatic, but his voice must sound dangerous because all three freshmen stop dead, eyes wide as if he's just spoken in tongues.

He zeroes in on Dustin with a glare. “Now.”

Who huffs, throwing his hands up in the air like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here. 

“Absolutely not--we just got Steve to sit down. He’s been following me around the house insisting I’m causing more problems than I’m fixing!”

“Because you are.” Steve says, voice dripping with calm condescension as he appears like a wraith in the doorway. “And I know you’re all into the whole dungeon game, Munson, but this is a little dramatic, even for you.”

Eddie whirls to face him, already vibrating with fury. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy who’s treating them like his personal minions. What’s next, Harrington? Gonna make them re-shingle the roof? Paint your house? Wax your car?”

Steve gives him a flat, almost disbelieving stare. “Do you seriously think I had Henderson miss your game just so I could lounge around while he’s doing chores?”

Eddie doesn’t bite, too busy unloading. “Oh we can both see it’s more than that.”

He doesn’t notice the way Steve’s jaw tenses, or how his hand creeps up to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple. 

“Anything else you want done, Harrington? Maybe make ‘em mow the lawn?” Eddie sneers. “Or teach ‘em to plump your pillows just the way you like—”

Steve finally snaps, pushing himself upright. “You know what Munson, you're right,” he says, voice tight with barely-contained frustration. “I’m clearly a terrible person they need to be rescued from so--”  

He cuts himself off with a hiss,  eyes squeezing shut as his hand goes to the side of his head, and spits out his next words like they hurt. 

“You can play the good guy and take them all home.” 

Dustin, with an exasperated sigh, steps between them. “No,” he tells Steve sternly, as if managing an unruly child, before spinning on his heel to say the exact same thing, in the exact same tone--to Eddie. 

(Jackass freshman can’t even appreciate when they’re being actively rescued!) 

“Eddie, I promise that this isn’t what it looks like.” 

For anyone else it would sound like a plea, but Henderosn somehow makes it condescending.

“We can explain, alright?” Dustin says, raising his hands as though coaxing a skittish animal. “Will you let us explain? Please?”

Eddie glowers. 

“You clearly do not, in fact, know what this looks like. Because if you did,” 

Eddie can make himself menacing and he does so now, pulling on every single year of drama and theatrics and lying to cops he’s had, pushing his shoulders back and making his body tall.

“You would know that it looks like a guy who peaked in high school is forcing a bunch of fourteen year olds to do his bidding.” 

He takes an aggressive step towards Steve, boots thunking hard on the floor. “And that isn’t happening on my watch.” 

“Aren’t you like an extra super senior?” Mayfield says, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Irrelevant!” Eddie swats the air in her direction, as if to physically bat away her words. “I’m still in high school and I’m not emotionally blackmailing a bunch of kids into waiting on me hand and foot while I fake a headache!” 

“Oh ew.” Max’s nose scrunches in disgust, a mixture of disbelief and fury warring on her face. “That is not what’s happening here.” 

“Were you even listening earlier?!” Lucas says, like he can’t quite believe Eddie is this dumb. 

(His character will be the next to die, so Eddie swears.) 

“I did.” Eddie points a finger at him, triumphant. “I heard all about how he’s tricked you into thinking you owe him a life-debt!”

“A what?” Harrington’s squinting, like he’s struggling to follow along what is happening. It’s a halfway decent sick act, Eddie will give it to him, but he knows the facade will drop in a moment. 

As soon as the asshole loses his temper and decides to try and throw Eddie out, he’ll switch from the Poor Me act into the usual pompous, rich dick on a rampage persona. 

“How he’s saved you all, convinced you and Henderson that you’re in debt to him.” 

“Could we just---please stop yelling?” Steve says in the background, heel pressing hard against his eyes. 

Then winces like his own voice hurts his head.

“What the hell, Eddie?!” Dustin’s cut across the room, stepping in between the two older teens. “Where did this even come from!?” 

“Guys.” 

“The mouths of babes, Henderson. Which you would know if you witnessed Sinclair’s rant instead of missing out because King Dickhead demanded your presence at his castle!” 

“Guys.” Steve’s voice abruptly takes on a weird tone, and it’s only Mayfield’s eyes popping wide that has Eddie realizing something is wrong--right before Harrington shoots past him, noisily hurling in the sink.

“Gross!” Max shrieks, throwing herself off the counter. 

Harrington aims a shaky middle finger in her direction. 

“I just washed those bottles Steve, I'm not washing them again!” Mayfield rants, but she’s not fooling anyone. Not with the way she’s already edging back towards him, like she’s afraid he might fall over. 

(Worse, like she might try to catch him, as if Harrington’s broad, barbarian-like shoulders wouldn’t flatten her instantly.) 

“Al-’right.” Harrington slurs a moment later, still panting over the sink. “Everyone--out. Now.” 

“Steve--” 

“Nope. Making it worse. Out.” 

He manages to stand and turn, leaning hard against the counter and for the first time since this all started, Eddie looks at him. 

Properly, and not through the lens of righteous fury. 

Harrington’s pale.

The shirt he’s wearing is stained with sweat marks, his sweatpants clearly old and worn for comfort rather than style. 

His hair…

Eddie has never seen Harrington without his infamously perfect hairdo, and the messy, slick waves plastered to his forehead is more of a shock then him vomiting in the sink. 

He’s got his hands pressed hard against his eyes again, and there’s a slight tremble in his fingers that belay he’s likely in a lot more pain than he’s letting on.

In short, Harrington looks like absolute shit, and Eddie, maybe, possibly, the tiniest bit believes he actually has a migraine. 

Well, it was that or he was really committed to the bit… 

The tense silence that has befallen them all is ruined when Harrington makes a ‘hurk.’ noise.

“I’m going to throw up again.” He decides after a moment of contemplation, before whipping back around to the sink and doing just that. 

“Steve’s right.” Mayfield decides suddenly, over all the nasty noises. “We should leave.” 

“I’m almost done cooking!” Sinclair protests, as if Harrington isn’t presently throwing up the contents of his stomach. 

“You’re almost done burning things, you mean.” Max mutters, but her words can’t hide the blatant concern written all over his face. “I don’t think he’s going to keep anything down.” 

“He needs us to finish what we started.” Dustin argues passionately. “You know how bad he gets, he’s not gonna be able to get up in an hour!” 

(A clear exaggeration, because Harrington looks like he’s not gonna make it across the kitchen unassisted.) 

“What I need is for everyone to stop talking so fucking loud.” Harrington moans, before appearing to give up on life entirely. 

He sort of sags against the counter, resting his head against his arms while bent double, as if that would help things. 

It was at this point that Eddie had the most unfortunate realization that he might be the asshole here. 

Because Harrington looks rough--and if he actually does in fact, have a migraine, then Eddie has done nothing but make it worse.

(Very likely the freshmen have as well, given Dustin is incapable of talking in anything other than a loud yell, and the smell of Lucas’s burnt food has permeated the air.

Mayfield seemed to have accomplished a small amount of actual work, at least.

…If Harrington managed to miss throwing up on the water bottles.) 

“Look,” Harrington interrupts with an audible, thick swallow.“You guys did great, and I appreciate the uh, help. I’m fine, I promise, you can all go home. Munson,” 

He doesn’t turn, but his voice does change into something that’s half pleading, half demanding.

“Can we please fight about this tomorrow? Or next week?” 

“No fighting!” Dustin shrieks, which has the effect of making Harrington cringe into the counter--and that is what finally kicks Eddie over.

Bows to the instincts that now want to wrap up Harrington in a blanket over the ones that want to strangle him, (though both are very much at odds in his head with each other.)

“We can put a pin in it.” He says, all the venom dropping out of his voice,  already knowing what’s going to happen next and hating himself for it. 

Even at his absolute worst, Eddie has never been able to resist trying to fix a problem he’s been presented with--or turn down someone who needs help.

Harrington, clearly, needs help. 

“You heard him.” He tells his freshman, then immediately holds up a hand when all three try to protest at once. 

“Ah-ah, inside voices.” He himself uses a harsh whisper, and then has to fight not to laugh aloud when all three abruptly eye him like he’s lost his head.

He probably has.

(Fucking King Steve.

No one who is that much of a douchebag should ever look that pathetic without deserving it, it’s against the Munson doctrine.) 

“Henderson, have you done anything actually useful while you’ve been here? Like, say, getting a warm washcloth?” 

“I--oh.” Dustin’s on the defense instantly, but for once actually listens before he finishes his sentence. “Uh. No.”

“Go do that then.” Eddie instructs, making sure to keep his voice quiet and even. 

“Sinclair, toss out the eggs, then take the garbage out so it’ll stop stinking up the place. Mayfield, see if these windows open. Harrington…” 

He pauses, watching as Harrington tries to gather himself, moving slowly and deliberately like even breathing hurts. His entire appearance is grating Eddie’s nerves—not because he doesn’t care, but because he does, and that’s infuriating. 

“Go lay down, man.” He finishes lamely. 

He expects the freshmen to listen to him. Knows they will, in his heart of hearts, even if they bitch back, because that’s just how things are when he decides to take charge. So few people truly want to, that others are often relieved when he does. 

Steve Harrington is not most people.

If he argues, he could very well tip things out of control again, which means Eddie is likely going to have to force the trio of fourteen year olds out of the house. 

Henderson and Sinclair he can manage but Mayfield…

Thankfully, Steve pushes off the counter with a groan, muttering something under his breath, but slowly making his way toward the couch without any other protest. 

The freshmen exchange glances, all of them looking just as unsure as Eddie feels. Like they’re waiting for instructions now that their default leader is down for the count.

He clears his throat pointedly. 

“Hello? Did I not give you marching orders?” He bats his hands at them. “Go march!” 

Mayfield mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “hypocrite” but thankfully, does as asked. 

“Are you gonna give us a ride home?” Henderson asks as he finally starts moving around--hopefully to get a damn washcloth. 

“You got yourself here, you can get yourself home.” Eddie scoffs back, taking stock of Harrington’s kitchen. 

He eyes the line of pain pills laid out on the counter, quickly noting not one of them is anything that would help with a sneeze let alone a migraine. 

Typical. 

“Why not?” Dustin disappeared down a hallway, but the fact Eddie can still hear him plain as day speaks to his ability to keep quiet. “You have your van, don’t you?” 

“Because I’m not leaving when you three are leaving.” 

It’s an absentminded comment, given his mind is elsewhere. 

Weed may be his bread and butter but he does have a handful of more serious things on offer. 

Of those things, one or two have some fun little unexpected side effects, and if Eddie recalls Rick’s yapping right, one of said things was stopping headaches. 

Said magic little mushrooms might even be in a pocket or two, here, if he remembers right… 

“Wait, you're staying here?” Lucas protests, far too loudly. 

"Ssszzhh!" Eddie hisses, drawing out the sound dramatically, mostly for the sake of cutting off whatever protests were coming his way. 

“No arguing. Your beloved King clearly needs a nap, and that means you’re all off duty. Unless," he adds with a raised eyebrow, "you intend to watch him sleep?"

Dustin looks torn, but mutters a quiet, "No," his eyes shifting sideways like he's weighing the logic.

"Good. Then if you’re all finished…?”

He waits for the nods he knows are coming. 

“Excellent. Now leave." Eddie says, pointing towards the door. 

They hesitate for a second, but then finally begin to shuffle out, the door clicking quietly behind them. 

And just like that, Eddie’s left standing there, watching Steve breathe shallowly on the couch--with a washrag over his eyes.

(At least Dustin managed that.) 

He could leave now. 

Should leave, really. Giving out drugs for free is not exactly a good business move and Steve will no doubt sleep the headache off without it. But Eddie’s feet don't seem to agree with him, rooted in place as his gaze lingers on the sharp line of Steve's jaw, the slight twitch of his brow every time a muscle aches.

Feels the pull, deep in his gut, to provide the relief he knows he can give. 

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s moving, crossing the room toward him.

“Munson?” Harrington squints up at him as he registers his presence, washcloth nudged upwards by shaky fingers. “Why’r you still ‘ere?” 

“Because I’m stupid.” Eddie mutters, right before realizing he actually said that outloud. 

“What?” 

Thank God for Harrington’s headache. 

“You look terrible, man.”  Eddie says slightly louder. “That hair of yours is so flat I think your crown’s gonna fall right off.” 

He’d meant it as a joke--spoke it like one, but it seems to snap Harrington out of his pity party. 

The sigh that blasts out of him is a whole body affair, and gets his feelings across better than his words do. “I get it. You thought this was something else and it wasn’t. Not the first time that’s happened.” 

He turns, cheek scraping against the fabric of his shirt, red rimmed eyes squinting against the light to look at Eddie. 

“You got your laugh in, so you can go.” 

There’s defeat in his voice. Like he’s accepted this might as well have happened. 

(Like he’s just as beaten down as anyone Eddie has ever saved.) 

“I didn’t stick around to laugh.” Eddie keeps his voice soft, and that somehow, makes the next part easier to say.  

“I honestly thought you were messing around with Henderson and Sinclair, and I uh, I’m used to being the only person who gives a shit. When that kind of thing happens.” 

Harrington grimaces. 

“It’s okay.” he mutters, eyes sliding closed once more. “Most people still think I’m an asshole.”

His tone has gone odd again, wrecked and rasping, migraine clearly trumping whatever strong feelings he had on the matter. 

And the stupid thing was, Harrington himself was never really an asshole. 

Sure he went along with the assholes, and he definitely egged them on if not outright participated in some of the lower tier shitty activities, but he wasn’t the guy slamming people into lockers. 

(Eddie, in fact, has a hazy memory of Steve telling off Hagan for doing said locker slamming.) 

It didn’t make him a good guy--he’d had slung too many insults around to get that label--but in the rankings of assholery, his was of the average variety. 

Which means that Eddie cannot logic himself out of his own stupid desire to help.

Even if he really, really wants to.

“Yeah well, even assholes need assistance sometimes, and since I kicked your help out, it’s on to make up for it.” 

“No offense,” Steve slurs tiredly, “but I don’t think you’re any quieter than Dustin.” 

A smile ghosts over Eddie’s face. 

“I live in a tiny ass trailer, Harrington. Trust me,  I know how to be quiet. I simply choose not to be.” He moves, slow and careful, until he’s seated next to the fallen King on his stupidly huge (and very uncomfortable) couch. 

Steve’s eye follows him over, staring up as he white knuckles his sweatpants, washrag sitting crooked on his forehead. 

“I’m not sure I’m not gonna throw up again.” He admits after a moment. 

“And that right there is one of the things I can help with. Provided,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, “that you don’t mind taking a more recreational route for your recovery?” 

“....are you offering me drugs?” 

“I am indeed.” Eddie confirms with a real smile, plucking the offending baggie out of a pocket. 

“You ever done shrooms, your majesty?” 

Steve huffs a quiet noise that might have been a snort, had he put any effort behind it. 

“How is that going to help?” 

“Be-cauuuuuse,” Eddie draws the words out, still a showman even if he is doing his level best to talk as quietly as possible, “shrooms are what we call a psychedelic, and those are pretty well known among certain circles as the headache healer.” 

Provided one took the medicinal amount and not the down-the-rabbit-hole amount. 

Harrington’s eyes are back open, only this time they’re looking at Eddie’s fingers the same way a dog looks at a nail trimmer: concerned and not entirely unsure it wasn’t going to bite him. 

“I’m not…” He cuts himself off, frowning. 

“You’ve bought plenty of my weed, Harrington. Trust me this isn’t any different.” Eddie tells him. 

Isn’t offended in the slightest--this reaction is pretty typical for people who have only smoked the ganja. 

Even the ones who asked to try for something with a little more ‘umph.’ 

“S’not that.”Steve admits quietly. “I uh. Had a bad trip. While back.” 

“Ah, gunshy.” Eddie says it without a lick of judgment, because Eddie’s been there.

Or rather in the shower, at two am because he accidentally spilled LSD on his hand and promptly tripped balls for 48 hours after.  

 “I’ll hang around a bit, if you like.” He offers casually. “Make sure things don’t go sideways.”

He gets another huff-snort as Harrington’s watery eyes return their attention to him. 

“And what are you going to do if they do go sideways?”

“Put you back together again.”  

Eddie knows his grin is crooked, but can’t help it. He’s thinking about Humpty Dumpty and the King’s Men.  

Somehow he doesn’t see Steve Harrington cracking that easily—at least, not without putting up a good fight—but drugs did worse things to better people. 

“It really helps?” Steve asks, voice quiet. Doubtful.

Eddie presses his hands to his chest. “Scouts honor.”

“You were not a boy scout.” Steve tells him, but he’s struggling to sit up anyway, looking game. 

“Alright, so how do I do this?” He asks, though he’s already halfway down again, propped up on his elbows.

“First, you lay back down, and I’ll brew it into tea,” Eddie explains. 

“Tea?”

“Well, you could eat them straight, but I don’t think they’d taste too great. Not that I wouldn’t mind watching you try.”

Steve scowls. “Sadist.”

“Guilty,” Eddie replies, biting back the urge to sing-song it, keeping his voice down and steady. “Just a heads-up: they kick in fast, but I’ll go light on you—nothing like the ‘fun’ dose for the usual crowd.”

Which is how he ends up back in the kitchen, this time making tea and humming to himself, before offering the final brewed concoction to Harrington.

Who downs it like a shot, because he’s a fucking frat-bro at heart. 

“I didn’t find a teacup for you to do that.” 

Between a full-body shudder and a dramatic grimace, Steve chokes out “Not gonna lie I didn’t think we owned a teacup.” 

“What, do you think I just have them in my van?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” 

Which is kind of hysterical, and something Eddie may be doing--not that he’s telling Harrington that. 

“And now we wait!” He announces instead of rambling about teacups, nearly clapping his hands together before he remembers the migraine Steve is soldiering through with surprising grit. 

Eddie himself would have turned into a whiny mess, so he can’t help but admire the guy’s restraint.

“Waiting to see if I hurl again, you mean?” Steve mutters, flopping backward onto the couch. “That tasted like battery acid.”

“Think it’s coming back up?”

“No clue.”

They sit in silence for a second, then Eddie pokes, “Maybe it’s best if you crash in your room, man. You look like death warmed over, and this couch sucks.” 

An understatement, if there ever was one. The fucking thing didn’t seem to be made for people to actually sit on. 

Reluctantly, Steve pulls himself up, heading toward his room. Eddie tags along, snarky grin covering the way he holds his hands out in case the jock ahead of him slips on the stairs and takes them both out. 

(Unlike Mayfield, Eddie does not pretend Steve doesn’t outclass him weight wise. The man was built like a brickhouse, and he has to fight to keep his eyes up toward Steve’s hair instead of on his ass.) 

Thankfully, he’s saved from all R-rated thoughts by the sheer horror of Harrington’s bedroom. 

“Harrington, I’ve found the source of all your migraines.” Eddie tells him, tone as serious as he’s ever been.

“Ha-ha.” Steve deadpans, stepping into his plaid fucking room. 

“I’m not kidding, I’m getting a headache and I’ve been here less than five seconds.” 

The whole place truly is a nightmare--like someone took one of those plaid hunting jackets and themed an entire room around it. 

Fucking rich people. 

“Trust me, it’s not the wallpaper.” 

“Given how you’re weaving on your feet, I think it’s safe to say I don’t trust you at all.” Eddie tells him, half helping half dragging Steve towards the bed. 

It’s a comfy looking thing and Harrington falls into it gratefully, immediately crawling under the covers. 

“You know where to find me?” Eddie asks him, refusing to think Harrington snuggling up in his bed is something cute. 

“Yeah?”

“Good. Hit me up next time your head gets bad. I’ll make sure to keep some of this,” He shakes the little baggie, “on hand.” 

Steve’s pulled the covers all the way up past his chin, but he moves it down a little to properly cock an eye at Eddie. 

“Dare I ask what you're gonna charge for that?”

“Let’s call it a fair trade for all those times you’ve driven the freshman home from Hellfire.” 

If Steve even recalls this conversation, that is. Eddie hadn’t exactly given him the “fun” kind of dose, but then, he himself has never tested out what dose is needed to cure headaches rather than simply having  fun destroying one's own ego. 

He supposes that’s something he and Harrington both will have to test, between them--because Eddie meant it when he offered the drugs for free.

No one deserves to suffer from the kind of migraine Harrington clearly had. 

“Think you’re good to drop off.” Eddie tells him, after making sure Steve is happily content in his bed. 

Checks his watch to make sure enough time has passed to safely call it, before beginning to attempt his way out of Steve’s god-awful bedroom. 

Which of course, is when Harrington reaches out, looping his fingers around Eddie’s wrist. 

It freezes him in place. 

In a moment that is so utterly selfish and stupid that Eddie will loudly insist it was a hallucination should Harrington ever dare ask about it, he turns his palm and moves so that he’s clasping Steve’s fingers with his own. 

“Thanks. For all this.” Steve whispers, as they hold hands for a moment. 

Eddie squeezes his fingers against the younger man’s before he moves to make his retreat, flashing a peace sign over his shoulder as he goes.  

“Anytime, big boy.” 

Anytime. 

xxx

The thing no one tells you about creating a doctrine, is that at some point or another, someone’s going to hold you to it. 

In Eddie’s case it’s four very pissed off teenagers.

He has a gold medal in mental gymnastics and a silver in denial. Left on his own devices he could easily excuse everything that happened yesterday. 

Reclassify the fallen King as pathetic, and the kids' weird loyalty to him as a holdover from his babysitting days. 

Blame their nosy-ness on them being involved in Harrington’s life, and happily go back to mocking their relationship with renewed vigor because now he’s not going to handwave their behavior as being afraid of Harrington. 

Nope, they clearly and willingly, have attached themselves to the King, which means Eddie gets to make fun of them for life. 

Pity they don’t leave Eddie to his own devices. 

In fact, the little shits hit him up first thing in the morning, early enough that he's’ a little suspicious that the boys slept over at Max’s trailer. 

“We’re not done talking about Steve.” Mayfield tells him and given the determined (Henderson) angry (Sinclair) and put out (Wheeler Jr.) faces glaring at him from over her shoulder, Eddie figures his chances for getting out of this conversation are slim to none.

“Good morning to you too.” He snarks, voice gravel-deep with sleep. “What do you little shits want?”

“I literally just said.” Max rolls her eyes so hard he thinks about commenting that they may stick back there, only to decide that makes him sound too much like a teacher for his liking. 

(Besides if they get stuck, he’ll have an excuse to whack her on the back of her head without getting murdered for it.

…well. 

An attempt at an excuse, anyway.) 

“And who says I have anything I want to talk about?” He fires back, leaning a shoulder against the old metal doorframe. 

Just because he understood what they wanted didn’t mean he was going to make it easy. 

“Would you just let us in?” 

“No.” 

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, and Eddie redirects his frown his way. “Come on.” 

“Well I suppose if you say it that way,” Eddie hums thoughtfully. “No.” 

“Steve’s sick, you asswipe.” Max snaps angrily. 

“I know,” He volleys back, brightly sarcastic. “I saw him yesterday.”

Because it’s Mayfield, she matches him tit for tat, a mimicry of his sarcastic drawl entering her voice. “Good! You get to see him today too.”

And just like that their little ambush makes sense.

(He’s got to find a new way to get the damn kids to fear him, clearly his usual menacingness  just isn’t cutting it anymore.) 

“And why would I do that?” 

He’s done his good deed. He helped Harrington out, and even offered free drugs to help him get his migraines under control. 

Checking up on the guy was overkill.  

“We were gonna do it, but someone let it slip that Steve was sick.” A cutting glance is given to Henderson, who makes a face but otherwise holds his ground. 

“And his mom called everyone else's parents with instructions that we leave him alone until he feels better.”  

“So now if we go over there,” Sinclair finishes for his girlfriend, “we get grounded.” 

Which neatly answers every question that just popped into Eddie’s head. 

The threat makes sense for the boys--Eddie’s met Claudia Henderson and though she has that bubbly, easy to confuse nature of suburbanites everywhere, there was an undercurrent in her eyes of someone who knew more than she was letting on. 

Or perhaps, someone who simply knew what they wanted, and was happy to settle and wait for it. 

 Likewise the Sinclair and Wheeler parental units seem to want to keep in her--and Steve’s, no doubt, given he carts their kids around--good graces. 

Given Mayfield’s mom wasn’t even home last night, her participation in this farce does not make sense and Eddie narrows his eyes at her in warning. 

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” He says instead of directly calling her out.

She knows he knows, and he’s smart enough to figure out how to relay that without saying it directly. 

(An action taken out of respect for surviving a bad home life, and absolutely not because he’s terrified she’ll crawl through his window to enact revenge in the middle of the night.) 

“It’s your problem because you owe him one.” she tells him firmly. “And us.”

Oh no he does not. 

“How so?” He challenges with a snorted laugh. 

“You did kind of storm into his house and yell a lot.” Sinclair points out. He’s doing better at speaking up, Eddie realizes with a twisted sense of pride and dread. 

Not quite so easy to steamroll after his outburst yesterday. 

A part of him hopes that sticks around--Sinclair needs a spine, and not just because Mayfield will keep running circles around him until he grows one. 

The rest of Eddie is pissed off that he decided to get one now, when it directly impacted Eddie’s Saturday morning sleeping plans.  

Leave it to these dickheads to use a good deed against him.

“Look--we can’t make sure he’s okay. You can.” Mayfield steps up to jam a painted fingernail in Eddie’s chest. “He won’t let us do anything that will actually help him. You, he can't stop.” 

He does not take a step backward and thus lose all the cool points he has left in the eyes of the younger Hellfire members, but only because he’s already leaned up against the doorframe. 

He bares his teeth at her in a silent snarl instead. 

“We made it worse.” She admits, voice sharp. “And I don’t know how to make it better, but you seem to be able to, so congrats Munson--you get to go again!” 

Which gets Eddie’s back right up. 

He pushes off the doorframe, ready to tell Mayfield--and all his little dipshits--right off, except this is when Wheeler Jr., of all people, decides to add in his two cents. 

“If you don’t go, no one else will.” He looks off to the side while he says it, arms crossed tight across his chest and spitting the words out like he's admitting to a crime. “Robin’s not coming back until Monday and Nancy's got some stupid thing, so you’re literally the only person who can go.” 

Well just stab him in the heart, why don’t you. 

“What are the chances of you fucking back off to whatever hole you crawled out of if I refuse?” He asks, already knowing that he’s done for.

Accepted his fate, because he knows what it’s like not to have someone to rely on, when you need them the most. 

“Zero.” Sinclair and Henderson chant as one. 

“Well then.” He tells them with the biggest, most put upon sigh he can manage. “Guess you got me in a box here.” 

Mayfield grins at him.

It reminds him vaguely of a shark. 

A bloodthirsty, slightly demonic, mean shark. 

“Good. Go get dressed.”

“Oh I’m doing this right now, am I?” He complains, but he’s already moving to go back into his trailer. 

“We’re not leaving until you do!” Mayfield yells at him.

Eddie slams the door in her face. 

(He’s never adopting freshmen again, as long as he fucking lives.)

[shurisasthmaticgf]

oh baby he down bad: charles leclerc x black fem! reader

summary: three times when you realized you truly did have your boyfriend wrapped around your finger

warnings: crying, period mention, swearing

blog moved to @delewlew

author's note: this is the first charles fic i've written so please be kind...i hope you all enjoy it. i'm sick with covid and i was loopy on meds when i wrote this so i hope it makes sense 💀 comments and other feedback are welcome and appreciated!

whoisyn uploaded a story!

you laid in your bed curled into fetal position with your phone mere inches from your forehead. the room was dark but light enough to see half of your face as your eyes welled with tears. you rambled, "a few weeks ago when i was visiting new york i bought a bunch of takis and nerds clusters because they don't sell them over here in monaco and i went to go get a bag of both and i didn't know i ran out! i'm so upset i don't even want to settle for anything else." you wailed loudly, mixing in a few laughs at how ridiculous you probably looked but you had no shame as you hit post.

the entire day had been going pretty shit from the moment when you woke up and bled through your favorite pajamas to nearly passing out when you wanted to have a relaxing hot shower to make you feel better. now you were just laying in bed clinging to your body pillow that had lingering notes of your boyfriend's cologne. it was early in the night but your entire body felt like it was hit by a bus and you were one tylenol away from needing a stomach flush yet it didn't actually feel like it was helping. to make things worse, all you wanted was your boyfriend but he was supposed to be going out right after he got off of work.

you laid stiff in your bed in an obscure position because you found that was the only one that didn't make you feel worse. the door to your bedroom opened and your boyfriend entered wearing pajama pants and no shirt. you squinted through the dim light and mumbled, "babe? thought you were going out tonight? you had that thing." charles placed two bags of your favorite snacks onto your nightstand and responded, "i was but i found out through twitter that my girlfriend was crying at home." you turned your face away from him out of embarrassment because you were literally crying over chips and candy. he turned your chin back to him, "why didn't you call me, mon cœur?" you shrugged and reached for the bag of candy, "it wasn't that serious." he pulled you closer to him and you shifted positions so your head was against his chest. charles pressed a kiss to your forehead, "anything that bothers you is serious to me, darling. but, i am here and you have your snacks so we can watch your movie like we always do, yes?" you nodded and turned on Princess and The Frog which was one of your comfort movies since childhood.

whoisyn posted a story!

replies:

lilymhe WHP IS YOUE DEALER PLS 🙏

↳ whoisyn lemme ask charles

francisca.cgomes feel better bby <3

↳ whoisyn thank you so much ily ily ily ❤️

logansargeant i still have like 3 bags of hot cheetos and those nerds things for you from when you asked me to grab you some when i had a layover in new york

↳ whoisyn omg i forgot abt those! i'll get them next week if u bring em. ty ty.

alex_albon lily wanted me to ask you who your dealer is? she said you'd know what she meant

↳ whoisyn oh my bad pookie i forgot...but charles said he just has a stash of american snacks at his place for me. i'll bring her some next weekend tho dw ❤️

↳ alex_albon THANK YOU OMG I COULD KISS YOU RN - lily

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

you cut through one of the alleyways out of street view once you noticed someone had been recording you as you walked through the streets of monaco. most of the time you managed to sneak through the city without being spotted but today you had to make a trip to the mall where a handful of people recognized you immediately. as someone who was never in the public eye and lived as a "regular" person you were still getting used to people recognizing you and following you around. time and time again you'd gone viral for your fan responses when they asked for pictures or autographs, usually a laugh and "why, i'm not the famous one?" you were genuine with your interactions and were known for helping fans get autographs or deliver fan letters to charles at grand prix weekends. although you enjoyed this aspect of his fanbase, sometimes it was too much and you just wanted to live in peace like you used to. so you'd learned every back road and sidewalk to your shared apartment for quick escapes.

the alleyway was quiet and away from the few people that were walking and talking beside you. just as you were to round a corner you heard a soft meow. stopping dead in your tracks you looked around confused to where the sound was coming from. there was silence then another meow, and another, and another until you realized a small orange cat a few meters away was the culprit. the tiny kitten was shaking and wet in some fluid you only hoped was water, but by the smell it was definitely sewage, pipe, or garbage juice. you wrinkled your nose and held the helpless fur ball in your palm, "shit...what the fuck do i do?" the kitten nibbled on your thumb and you stretched your finger away, "don't do that i don't want rabes or whatever cats can carry." you looked over your shoulder and sighed, "well i guess i have a cat now... let's go."

once back in your apartment you put the small kitten in your bathroom tub on an old rag. the small animal meowed and mewed the entire time you rinsed it off with the only soap you had that was safe according to google. instead of drying it's fur with your blowdryer you just towel dried it which he continued meowing. you'd never had a cat and didn't know what it meant when kittens meowed so you just started rambling, "well that's so interesting you feel that way because i literally said the same thing too! like i don't even know why that would make sense because when you really think about it they always want you to think that but in reality the truth is the complete opposite of what they want you to believe." the orange kitten looked at you with its head turned to the side and you sighed, "i don't know what you want from me man i just met you." the cat meowed louder and you mumbled, "that was definitely a cuss word but i'll let it slide."

an hour later you had given the kitten a small amount of some canned tuna and it fell asleep curled into your neck against the towel you kept it wrapped in.

charles entered your apartment with his eyes on his phone as he called out, "i'm home- oh." he usually expected you to be in your room so when you were out in the main room on the sofa he was startled. you sipped from the smoothie you'd gotten from the fridge and looked up from the book you were reading, "hi baby." charles stared at the kitten on your chest then back at you, "hi beautiful." he waited for you to say anything about the new addition and when you didn't he prompted, "what do you have there?" you looked at your hand and held up the cup, "a smoothie." you took a long sip and the straw crackled loudly, "oh yeah i figured out how to make that one hailey bieber has at that overpriced place in LA. it's actually really good i see why people lost their shit over it."

your boyfriend nodded slowly and pointed to the kitten on you, "my love, please tell me why is there a cat on you." for a minute you looked at him as if he was making it up but then you realized you never got around to actually texting him what happened. he waited for you to explain because the story had to be good if you, notorious anti-pet owner, came home with a cat and let it sleep on you.

you told him while looking at the kitten, "yeah, you're a daddy now." charles replied with too much ease, "i know that you call me that but that cat does not." you looked up with an exasperated glare, "can you be serious for one minute please." charles chuckled and apologized, "okay okay you go, tell me why i am now both of your daddys." you raised your hand to throw one of the clean rags you hadn't used at him which he shielded his face from, "okay i'm sorry go ahead." as you retold the entire thing charles just stood there with a fond smile, finding the whole ordeal quite amusing. at the end of your story he reached for the kitten and pulled back his hand, "why is it slippery?" you answered, "i put coconut oil on it so it didn't get ashy." charles started laughing once more and you smacked his shoulder lightly, "hey i never had a pet besides a fish okay! i'm trying my best here." charles pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your lips, "and you're going to be a great cat mom too, you've already done a good thing."

whoisyn

liked by charles_leclerc, f1, and 44,304 others

whoisyn happy birthday son to my son chisme octavius nortorious C.A.T. l/n-leclerc

view all 12, 079 comments

username1 WE THOUGHT IT WAS JUST CHISME LMAO WHY WOULD YOU NAME HIM ALL THAT-

whoisyn chisme bc if you pretend to gossip he'll immediately listen and start spilling tea too. octavius because charles said it sounded regal, and notorious C.A.T. for the culture.

↳ username2 LMAO YALL KINDA ATE NGL

charles_leclerc my two loves ❤️

username2 i need limited edition chisme x ferrari merch @/scuderiaferrari

↳ scuderiaferrari 👀

olliebearman i miss my brother

↳ whoisyn he misses you too <3

username3 i remember when y/n first found him, i can't believe he's a year old already :( he's so big now

username4 i thought charles said he wanted a dog

↳ whoisyn well i didn't find a dog, i found a cat. so we have a cat.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

the video had circulated on twitter only a few hours after it dropped and you'd noticed your name trending on the internet. after making the mistake of checking why you were trending once, you'd never really paid much attention to it again. the first time many people were shaming you for dating your boyfriend and making jabs at your physical appearance. rather quickly you realized it would be better to just keep up with silly memes your friends sent to you opposed to stalking every corner of the internet to see what people were saying about you.

this specific instance was charles in an interview and he'd mentioned you briefly while playing a game of this or that:

"do you prefer a weekend getaway to the coast for a snorkeling trip or the mountains for a skiing adventure?" the interviewer quizzed charles on his current vacation preferences. the driver asked, "is this by myself or with people?" the interviewer answered with a small smirk, "you and one other person- can be anyone, best friend, sibling, girlfriend, mom, etc." charles let out a laugh and knew what the interviewer was getting at and chose to went along with it for fan service. he thought for a moment then answered, "i think the snorkeling trip, my girlfriend likes this kind of thing with the fish, sea animals, and the diving in the water. that and she is better of a skier and snowboarder than me so..." out of the frame the interviewer laughed and joked, "a little mermaid moment, i love it."

you looked at the video and laughed when you noticed the small hello kitty band aid on his hand. earlier that week he'd gone with you out to the sea and you'd found a small cove to swim around in. somewhere along the way back charles had cut his hand on a rock and you'd put a little band aid on it from the only stash you had, and he had no complaints over the pink cartoon design. he found it cute and whenever he looked at it he was reminded of you.

whoisyn

liked by charles_leclerc, sanrio, and 53, 432 others

whoisyn oh, he look so cute wrapped around my finger 🎀

view all 12,855 comments

username1 SLIDES 5 AND 6-

alex_albon drop the link for the shirt

username2 CHARLES GOT THAT SHIT AWNNNN 😤😤😤

↳ comment pinned by creator

hellokitty we love to see this 🤩

↳ whoisyn omg pls sponsor me 😍

↳ sanrio check DM! ❤️

f1 i'd play mermaids there

↳ whoisyn we did 🤭

↳ landonorris WITHOUT ME? 😞

↳ danielricciardo X 2 💔

↳ georgerussell X 3 😪

↳ whoisyn my bad...next time we'll send a text

username3 oh baby he's down bad

username4 no way in hell she got this man in hello kitty pants after a long day of playing mermaids 💀

↳ username5 just say ur a loser who doesn't know how to have fun

comment has been liked by creator

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

the end.

[myownwholewildworld]

DARKEST DESIRES ― a Boston QZ!Joel oneshot

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader. summary: you promised Joel something he's been thirsting after for a while ― your ass. so you decide to make good on said promise. a/n: am i sick? probably. undoubtedly, really. this is a sequel to A Dark Summon, but it can totally be read independently. this was prompted by this kind ask (love you, nonnie). also, do you remember that post about frankie morales saying "big stretch"? WELL, YEAH (sorry, meant to tag it but i lost it!). anyways, please heed the warnings! comments and reblogs appreciated to keep the thots thotting <3 take care! x warnings: 18+, mdni. sexual roleplay (cnc). mind the hefty age gap (reader is 19, joel is 56, oopsie). pet names (kiddo, daddy's girl, little girl, etc). sir/daddy kink. dom!joel, sub!reader (possibly some ddlg dynamics). slut shaming. unprotected piv. squirting. sleepy blowjob (consensual somno). breath play. sex toys (dildo, butt plug). mention of rimming. joel (the birthday boy) fucks your virginal ass, anal sex (faked painal). reader is a blank slate with no backstory, has hair. dual pov. no use of y/n. w/c: ~5.4k. divider by @\cafekitsune

You were so nervous, your hands were shaking with excitement.

Living in Boston’s QZ was not easy, and trading was even worse. Because you were young―just turned nineteen a couple of months ago―dealers tried to take advantage of you, asking for more than they would to other people. But you were smart and the moment you learnt that dropping Joel’s name in conversation would actually give you a discount, you used that tactic frequently.

Most people in Boston were too preoccupied with life to be gossiping about the age difference between Joel and you, but there were some that would scan you from head to toe several times with disdain. Some with jealousy, others with horror.

“She’s too young, could be his daughter.”

“He’s too old, bet he can’t keep up with her.”

“She’s too young, it’s indecent.”

“He’s too old, I’m sure that little girl can’t satisfy him like I would.”

“She’s too young, no wonder why she’s always cheating on him.”

“He’s too old, I don’t know what he’s seen in her.”

You had heard it all. And you couldn’t care less. Joel, on the other hand, was a bit more sensitive when people criticized you ― like a guard dog protecting its prey. The relationship between the two of you was private, except for the times that you would hook up with a random guy in an alley with Joel attentively spying on you from the shadows.

He liked to watch, and you liked being watched. In your eyes, it was a match made in heaven. It never went further than a hand job, and you never let them touch your pussy ― Joel was extremely possessive of her. He enjoyed the look on their stupid faces whenever you pulled away, leaving them dumbfounded in the brink of an orgasm, and you would run to him, all giddy and ready to finish him off right there and then.

It was lewd, obscene, but you loved it. And so did he. Joel had shown you a whole new world when he took your virginity almost a year ago. Since then, you had been insatiable, too eager to be fucked stupid by your old man. Your daddy.

Every day you would sneak out and come over to his place to be pumped full of his cum, to have him drill you until you forgot your name and your legs wouldn’t keep you upright. And then you would go back home, spent yet satisfied, with your pussy full to the brim and your panties drenched with your mixed arousal.

Today though you were planning on spending the night here. It was Joel’s birthday and you had planned a special surprise for him. One that had cost you, but the price was definitely worth it.

You knew how avid Joel was about fucking your ass ― he almost reminded you daily. He had been preparing you for when the time came, some mild anal play to get you going. Last night, as Joel ate your asshole out, you promised to yourself that you wouldn’t postpone it anymore and today would be the day. What better present for Joel than your virginal ass?

So here you were, all naked and squeaky clean for him. You had draped a red ribbon around your waist. A big, scarlet bow laid low on the small of your back, making it obvious what his gift was. You also had a smaller parcel, all wrapped up with some old newspapers.

The moment you heard the front door creak, your heart jolted with anticipation and your stomach flipped. Turning around to face away from him, you dropped to your knees and leaned forward until your forehead rested on the floor and your knees touched your chest ― your ass on full display for him.

“Kiddo?” he called.

Joel’s brows furrowed deeper when he didn’t hear a reply. He knew you were here, your recognisable scent betraying your presence. Confused, he walked the small hallway and entered the living room.

His eyes immediately fell to where you were positioned, and a rush of hot blood coursed through his veins like liquid fire, all the way down to his groin. You had knelt and bent over, your perky ass up in the air for him to admire. A red bow topped your ass cheeks, the meaning of all this becoming instantly clear.

With a sly grin, Joel rubbed his palms together, taking a step forward.

“You’ve not forgotten about my birthday, have you, sugar?” he croaked, raspy and hoarse.

“No, sir, I haven’t,” you murmured, wiggling your ass a bit for him.

Joel groaned, the tension in his pants growing tighter, while he knelt behind you. The offer was irresistible, the way your flesh jiggled commended him to smack both of your buttocks. You whimpered, your back arching some more and your crack pulling further apart.

His fingers twitched with need, grabbing a handful of your meat. Joel was mesmerised by the view ― your puckered entrance so very inviting, and your beautiful seam glistening with slick right below.

Unable to refrain himself, his index dipped in the warmth of your damp pussy, tracing it entirely until the pad caught on your beating clit. You sighed heavily, melting under his digit.

“Why are you all wet already? Have you been playing with yourself?” he questioned, voice laced with lustful anger.

“Yes, sorry, sir. I was thinking about you, about what is gonna happen tonight, and… mhmm…” you hiccupped when he flicked your clit, “I did finger myself, but I didn’t come, I promise.”

Joel’s chest rumbled, frustrated. His orders were clear ― no touching yourself, nothing at all, even if you were horny. He wanted you needy and ready to take his cock when he came home from a rough day of patrol.

“How many fingers?” he barked, pinching your hooded clit between his index and middle fingers. You wailed in mild pain, your hips bucking up and away from his touch, but Joel didn’t release your thudding button.

“Just the one. Just the pinky, I swear. I know you like my pussy tight and unstretched, sir,” your sob transformed into a moan when his thumb found your trapped clit.

“Attagirl,” Joel rasped. “I don’t want your cunt all used and loose, you’re too young to feel like an old hag around my cock.” His thumb pressed tight circles on your pebbled nub before he removed his hand from your pussy. “I will let it slide. This one time.”

The warning in his tone made you nod vehemently, as you looked over your shoulder to him. Your bottom lip was trembling, your doe eyes pleading.

“Do you forgive me, sir?”

Joel gave you a stern look before he slapped your ass cheek, and you winced in response.

“I’ll think about it, kiddo,” he already had, but wouldn’t tell you yet.

“What can I do to help you make up your mind, sir?” a single tear skidded through your cheek, bottom lip still quivering.

Joel loved how easy you would tear up, you were a natural when it came to acting.

“There’s this one thing I have in mind,” Joel muttered, his thumb ghosting your butthole. “So clean, sugar. Can’t fucking wait to dive in.”

“I washed myself really well for you, sir. I used an enema too,” you whispered, averting your eyes shyly.

“So no messy sex?” Joel almost sounded disappointed, but he was just toying with you.

“No, I couldn’t, sir,” you bit down your bottom lip, eyes shut and the apples of your face burning with shame, when the pad of his thumb gently pressed the tight ring in your crack. “Oh…”

“You like that, don’t you? All this time denying me my right to fuck your ass, and now look at ya, begging to have your butthole impaled. Did rimming your tight ass yesterday change your mind?”

You shook your head yes eagerly and pushed your hips backwards until your ass was resting on his lap, thumb still stroking you right where you needed. You rubbed your buttocks against his jeans, your weeping seam sliding on his zipper.

“I-I loved it. I’m s-so ready now, sir,” you stuttered, pouting when he stood up.

“You poor little thing. Let’s break this seal then, shall we? But I need you to work me hard first.”

Joel moved towards the couch, and you followed him, walking on all fours behind him as if you were his little doggy. Next time, he would get you a collar and a leash, he thought as he sat down, and the old cushion gave way under him.

He coaxed his legs apart to make room for you between his thighs. You didn’t need any further instructions: you were already unbuckling his belt, your tiny hand dipping in his underwear to release his flaccid cock. His dick was still soft, just started to harden a few minutes ago.

Leaning forward, you pulled back the skin on his shaft and kissed the reddened tip. Then your tongue twirled around his cockhead, slurping sloppily as you bobbed your head down his length. Joel felt his dick growing harder, bigger in your warm mouth, and he groaned with satisfaction.

You loved how Joel’s soft cock would slowly stiffen between your lips, how his weight would grow heavier on your tongue as you sucked him off. Although you played to be submissive to him, this was a reminder of the actual power you held over him. Not only a reminder to yourself, but also to him. Despite being fifty-six, you were able to work Joel hard in a couple of minutes with the brush of your tongue and the seal of your plump lips. You were proud of it.

“What’s all this?” Joel asked as he leaned over, his chest pushing your throat further down on his now throbbing cock.

Your partner grabbed the box you had wrapped from the coffee table, along with the ashtray and a cigar you almost had to sell your soul for.

“Your other present, sir,” you managed to mumble, mouth full of his hard erection.

Your saliva skidded down his veiny shaft, pooling on the thick, dark curls at the base of his cock.

“I didn’t say stop. Keep sucking, kiddo,” his reproach scolded you, and quickly resumed your job.

You heard him lighting the cigar and then tearing the newspaper apart, while you took in as many inches as you could. Now that you had felt a few cocks on the palm of your hand, Joel’s had no rival. He was so gifted, and you felt lucky you were the one getting it all for yourself.

He’d been training you to swallow him whole, and practice made perfect. So after a couple more dives, your lips reached the base as the underside of his cock dragged easily along your tongue.

Your eyes welled up due to the strain and you suppressed the gag reflex, the fluttering of your throat around his girth making Joel moan. His left hand landed on the back of your head, pushing you down.

“Your mouth was made for me, sugar,” he praised you and you revelled in his compliment, swaying your hips sideways.

He placed the box on your back and opened it. You couldn’t see him but knew his face expression would light up with a sinful smirk.

Joel cackled and smacked one of your round globes, careful of not messing up the cute bow.

“Oh, you dirty slut.”

Joel pulled you off his erection by tugging at your hair. By the way his brown eyes took you in, you had to be a pretty picture ― messy hair and makeup, swollen lips, your skin glistening from your nose down to your chin with his precum and your spit.

One of his hands was holding a small butt plug. It was made of black silicone, pointier and ridged. It had four inches of insertable length, and the diameter was one inch thick.

Joel let out a whistle.

“You traded for this?” you nodded, batting your eyelashes at him. “Good fucking girl.”

He leaned forward to kiss you, his lips demanding and fierce. Your tangled tongues fought with each other, but Joel always won, subduing you quickly.

Both his hands roamed your bare body, rough calloused palms caressing your cold skin, which bristled under his touch. Joel traced your underboob, then suddenly pinched both of your taut nipples and pulled.

You flinched, a thunder of pain radiating from your tits all the way down to your pussy. Wet, sticky heat pooled between your thighs, clit pulsing and hole clenching around nothing. How could pain turn you on so fucking much?

“Move your pretty ass to the bedroom, kiddo,” Joel commanded.

Springing to your feet, you obeyed, leading the way to his bed. The room was dark and bare, with no personal items anywhere to be seen. Joel kept to himself, sharing little snippets of his life when he felt like it. You never pushed for information, knowing that he would open up at his own pace.

Putting on your best innocent gaze, you turned around to face him once you were at the foot of the bed.

“Can we play rough… daddy, please?” the term slipped from your tongue accidentally.

You covered your mouth at the realisation ― you’d never called him daddy, not out loud. In your mind you had done so several times, but you were not able to gauge how Joel would react if you did.

You were about to find out.

Joel growled at you, one broad hand wrapping around your throat ― his fingers dug on the sides of your neck. Tilting your chin up, you gasped, your hips lurching forward until they pressed against his erect dick.

“Who’s your daddy, kiddo?” Joel groaned, grazing your chin with his teeth.

“Y-you, daddy,” you replied, slowly understanding that despite his aggressive reaction, he actually liked it. “Joel Miller is my daddy.”

“Damn right I am,” he snarled like an animal. He hovered the anal plug over your mouth, “Open.” Joel slotted it between your lips. “Suck on it, daddy’s girl needs her pacifier for what’s to come. Don’t want the neighbours coming over to check if I’ve killed someone.”

When he turned you around and pushed you towards the bed, you knew the game was on. Your shins hit the metal bedframe; with another push from Joel on your shoulders, you fell face first on the unkempt bed.

“No, daddy, please, no,” you began whimpering around the plug, squirming as he sank a knee into the mattress.

Joel grabbed both of your wrists with the span of one broad hand and pressed them onto the small of your back. He tilted forward, his weeping glans gliding on your sticky slit a few times. He tapped your clit four times with his cockhead, the last tap harsher than the others, and then he stabbed your clenching hole.

You writhed under him, audibly crying now, when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. You forced tears to fall down your cheeks and mouthed a scream around the butt plug in your mouth.

“It hurts!” you feigned a painful wail, when in reality your pussy was fluttering around his gifted circumference with delight.

Joel groaned above you, buried down to the hilt, and placed his free hand on the back of your head. Then he pushed your skull down into the mattress, almost smothering you as you tried to gasp for air.

“Shut up, you bitch. Take it,” his hips snapped back, cock almost sliding out of your cunt, and then forced his way into your pussy again.

Your old man picked up a relentless pace, the nasty, sucking sound of your wetness reverberating in the room as Joel fucked you stupid, drilling you into the bed like a man possessed.

Joel freed your wrists for his left thumb to find your empty rimmed hole. He started stroking it slowly again, and you squeezed your sphincter at the touch. Unhurriedly, he worked your butthole until your muscles relaxed, then took the opportunity to ploddingly insert the first phalange in your ass.

Seeing stars behind your eyes, your hips involuntarily jerked up, swallowing the second phalange of his thumb. When Joel began pumping your tight ass with his digit, your pussy palpitated around his cock.

“You like that, don’tcha? Nasty, stupid little girl,” Joel groaned, his thrusts unforgiving whilst his thick finger twirled inside you.

You hummed loudly around the butt plug, feeling lightheaded and dizzy due to the lack of oxygen, but also to the intense pleasure, one you had not felt before.

“Mhm-mm-mhmmm-mhmmmmm,” the crescendo in your mumbling plea peaked, your lungs now burning.

Then Joel released his purchase on your hair, and your neck snapped back as you mouthed for air. Your heartrate spiked, even feeling it in your gums. Joel’s unabating shoves along with his devilish thumb finally sent you over the edge and you jumped off the cliff of your pleasure blindly. Your throbbing pussy clamped around his cock like a vice, the wave of your climax drowning you as Joel fucked you through it.

With toes curling, eyes glassy and drool falling off the corners of your busy mouth, all your muscles went suddenly limp. Your spent cunt still quivered around Joel’s dick, who hadn’t stopped jackhammering into you with renewed vigour.

Hastily, Joel pulled back and out of the heat of your tight pussy, digging up his thumb in the process too. One more second and he would have spilt inside. While he was sure he could have another erection, even at fifty-six, he rather not risk it.

His rough hand wrapped around his cockhead, reining in the need to come.

“Fuck, you almost got me there, sugar,” he cackled, running his hand down his face.

You didn’t reply. You were sprawled across his bedsheets like a fuck toy, your thighs still trembling with the aftershock of your orgasm. Joel was sure that even without the butt plug in your mouth, you would not have been able to string two coherent words together.

His lustful eyes lingered on the red bow crowning the swell of your buttocks. He was dying to untie it, to unwrap his most precious present and make good use of it. But first he needed you ready.

“Gimme that,” he uncurled his hand in front of your mouth, and you spat out the butt plug.

Standing firm behind you, he teased your pursed hole with the silicone tip. You stirred at the touch but were so out of tune with your own body, you didn’t fight him. He twisted the plug around, circling in your orifice. Slowly it went in, and when it bottomed out, your eyes snapped open, and you grizzled.

“Stay put,” he ordered you, stepping back.

Joel admired how the handle stuck out, peeking between your round globes. With a huff, he stroked his length as he walked towards the nightstand. Opened the drawer and pulled out your favourite pink dildo. It was slim and slightly curved ― you loved how the tip always hit the right spot inside your pussy.

He retraced his steps back to the foot of the bed and slid the toy between your clammy flaps, wetting it with your juices. You squirmed at the cold touch but relaxed when you realised what it was.

“Gonna have both holes full to the fucking brim, babydoll,” he mocked you sneeringly, wedging the dildo in your crying pussy until it snugly sat inside. “She’s so greedy.”

“Daddy, please, I can’t. I’m hurting,” you pleaded, sobbed even.

“I don’t fucking care. I’ll fuck your ass through the pain. A gift is a gift, kiddo,” he mumbled darkly.

Joel followed along and would not stop unless you said, “you piece of shit.” That was the agreement, the safe words you would use if you really started feeling insufferable pain. So far, you hadn’t spoken the words, giving him free rein to do with you as he pleased.

Looking at you with your perky ass up with the satin bow on top, a dildo in your weeping cunt and the butt plug poking out of your asshole, he knew himself a lucky bastard. How you fully trusted him, giving in to his darkest desires and coming up with your own. The last year had been a revelation for both of you ― you matched his freak so well.

To hell with what people thought, you were everything he had been looking for.

Fisting the base of his thudding cock, he slowly removed the anal plug, the pop sound enticing. Joel watched your open hole squeezing again until it puckered in your fold. He was mesmerised imagining how your walls would feel around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting down his bottom lip.

Hypnotised, Joel pushed the plug back in your butt, slowly and steadily, watching eagerly how your rimmed entrance swallowed the beads.

“No, daddy, it hurts. Please, take it out,” you begged him with a small, breathless voice.

“Shut the fuck up,” he warned you.

With one hand he pumped the dildo, dragging the pointy tip along your anterior wall to hit the spongy spot of your pleasure, and the other performed similar motions with the butt plug.

You mewled like a kitten, your passion ringing in his ears like he was high on drugs. Seeing you like this, all pliable and surrendered, had him on the brink of coming ― teetering on the edge, precum sliding down his shaft.

When you started humping the bedsheets, causing friction in your unattended clit, Joel knew you were close to another climax. Feeling considerate, he let you chase your own high, both of his hands working the sex toys in your holes.

“I― Good fucking lord, I’m… com… I’m coming, daddy. C-can I…?” you asked for his permission, his chest swelling at your request.

“Yeah, kiddo. Come for daddy,” he rasped, feeling drunk on your ecstasy.

You finally let go again, your whole body quivering like a leaf falling off a tree. He saw your inner labia squeezing the dildo and for a second Joel regretted it wasn’t his cock ― how good it would feel to have your fluttering pussy hug him tight.

But he had to persevere. The gift was worth it.

As your body still adjusted to the aftermath, Joel pulled out the butt plug carefully. The toy slid out easily, and he watched again how your hole stretched back to its normal size.

Throwing the plug to one side on the bed, Joel untied the red, satin bow on your lower back with steady fingers, taking in the moment. He felt like a mayor inaugurating a new building, presenting it to the press. This building was only his to dilapidate. The ribbon fell through his fingers.

Joel slipped one hand between your thighs, caressing around the dildo to gather some of your slick and gently buttering it into your rimmed opening. You said nothing ― eyes shut and mouth agape, it was almost as if you were peacefully sleeping.

He repeated the process a few times, but felt it wasn’t enough. Bending down, he spat in your ass until his mouth was dry. Then positioned his weeping cock right in the fold of your ass and pressed your buttocks together to hump your butt crack. Again, you didn’t react, your drool pooling on the bedsheets.

“What a fucking sight,” he said under his breath, the tip of his girthy dick finally hitching in your asshole.

Slowly he pushed the glans in, then back out, then back in, testing the waters. You squirmed a little, your brows furrowing innocently and your nose scrunching.

“Biiiiig stretch, kiddo,” he managed to groan between gritted teeth, jaw painfully clenched as his cock finally burrowed in your puckered entrance.

That was when your glassy eyes snapped open, and both your hands fisted the bedsheets.

“DADDY!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

It was hot and tight inside, very soft too, sweat gathering on his brow in concentration. Your sphincter crushed his hard cock and Joel felt like losing control over his own actions.

Another piercing shriek from you brought him back, his hips slowly working your hole with his length. He was only halfway in, you still had a few inches to take.

“You pie― Ohhhh, ah, mhmm…” his hand was quick to find the pebbled nub in your slit, petting it gently, pressing tight circles.

The distraction worked, because soon enough his dick was fully sitting in your ass. Joel pulled back, then back in, guiding your movements by pressing his free hand on your belly, holding your waist up and moving you with him. His right ring and middle fingers stroked your pearly clit relentlessly ― you were melting again.

This was heaven. Fucking heaven, he thought. How the muscles in your ass contracted around him, making him feel woozy. How you keened. How he just knew your pussy was fluttering around your pink dildo. How your clit was extremely wet, his fingers almost slipping on your velvety skin, almost unable to catch on your button.

It wasn’t painful, it was extremely overwhelming. Your mind felt like a spongy cloud, completely blissed out. Your soul had literally left your body, that was how empty your brain was. You were so full ― the dildo cozily inside you, Joel’s girthy cock blasting your entrails without a pause. Having him fully seated in your asshole was the most euphoric experience you had ever lived ― your pulse adjusted to his, two hearts beating as one.

It was too much, but it could be even more. Slithering one hand between your body and the bed, you found the dildo. Slowly you rocked it in and out of your damp pussy ― when Joel pulled out, you pushed in.

Elated, little, pathetic sobs escaped your mouth ― real, blissful tears wetting your cheeks, whimpering as your puffy lips wolfed down the pink toy. Your clit felt on fucking fire, Joel’s fingers fondling it to a point where you thought you might actually die.

You were coming again ― Joel could fucking feel it in his bones. Only this time, you squirted all over him, the warm liquid running down his thighs like a cascade whilst your whole body quaked uncontrollably.

“Oh my! Daddy! DADDY!” you wailed as he fucked you through it, hips almost stuttering now. “I can feel you in my guts! OH, FUCKING HELL!”

That was fucking it. With a guttural groan, Joel finally came, thick, sticky ropes spilling in your ass, painting your walls white. For a minute, he kept on filling you with his cum, cock maddingly twitching inside you. He closed his eyes and heavily sighed, as if the biggest weight had been taken off his shoulders.

By the time he was done, Joel was heaving, his chest rising in quick succession. That had been the best sex he’d ever had, and he was no novice like you. God, even his legs were trembling with effort.

Joel smacked both your ass cheeks as you plummeted onto the bed, a stupid grin curling the corners of your sinful mouth. You rolled to your side to look at him ― a fucked-out expression, your eyes hazy, sweaty hair sticking to your face.

The way you lazily smiled at him made his heart skip a beat.

“That was… something else,” you whispered, half asleep, totally spent.

Joel couldn’t help but chortle.

“I told you, kiddo,” he said, manoeuvring you back onto your belly so he could watch his semen gushing out your ass. “Squeeze your butthole for me, babydoll. Get it all out.”

You obeyed, all his cum slowly trickling out until your ass was empty.

“Good girl,” he praised you.

He admired the view for a hot minute ― you were a dewy mess, tangled in his bedsheets, with the pink dildo still poking out your sweet pussy. So tight, he thought, your slick cunt wouldn’t release it even when he gently tugged at it. Joel didn’t have the heart to take such comfort away from you yet, so he left the dildo in.

Joel disappeared into the bathroom after that to shower quickly. Then grabbed some wet towels and went back to the bedroom, naked as you were, to find you soundly asleep in an odd position.

He cleaned you up ― first your sweaty face, then your upper body. Joel coaxed your legs apart and couldn’t resist the urge to bow down and press a sweet kiss to your clit, slowly extracting the dildo from your pussy.

You hummed in your sleep, jaw slack and snoring lightly.

“The best daddy’s girl one could ask for,” he purred before resuming the task of rubbing your cunt and your ass clean. Joel was extremely diligent with your hygiene and care.

There was a big puddle on his bedsheets, right where your pussy had been leaking all along. He’d deal with that in the morning, didn’t want to wake you up now ― you needed the rest.

Joel sauntered towards the living room, seizing the forgotten cigar and the ashtray. Then returned to bed, and dragged your body up the bed until your head was resting on his lap. You unconsciously nuzzled his soft dick, your hot breath fanning the thick curls at the base.

Joel raked his fingers through your hair as he took a puff, the cigar crackling.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, kiddo.”

In your sleep, you stirred ― your plump, cherry lips caressing his base. Joel’s head slacked back against the headboard as he smoked.

“Fuck,” he cursed himself, feeling his dick harden again.

You were giving him no option ― there was nothing worse than going to bed with a hard-on. Joel knew you wouldn’t want that for him.

His fingers left your scalp, took one more puff and placed the cigar down on the ashtray. Joel cupped your chin, tilting your head up and back, while his other hand guided the slick tip of his cock to your lips. The moment your mouth was in contact with his dick, instinctually you suckled on his pearly glans.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Joel gritted, voice gravelly. “That’s it, be a good little girl for daddy.”

Joel gently rocked his hips under you, only the tip disappearing between your sinful lips ― he didn’t want to wake you, not when you looked like an angel right now.

This was a recurrent dream of yours. Most nights, you found yourself drifting away and thinking about your old man’s beautiful dick. It was soothing when you latched onto his glans, just like you were doing right now ― unbeknownst to you.

In your dream, your tongue pressed against the slit on his throbbing cockhead while your lips would seal around it to suck on it. Then his underside would slide along your tongue, kissing your palate gently. Sometimes you would stop, glans sitting warmly in your mouth, and the hand resting on his thigh would find the soft balls underneath to massage them delicately. Then your tongue would resume its petting.

Heat peaked inside your mouth, and that made you scowled slightly. Smacking your lips together, sleepily, you realised that there was something warm and sticky pooling in your mouth.

Your eyes fluttered open, still drowsy, and found Joel’s darkened ones. Your head was resting on his lap, the palm of his hand caressing your cheek while his thumb stroked your chin. Sluggishly, you smiled at him, rubbing one eye with the back of your hand.

“Sorry to wake you,” he apologised before he took a drag of the cigar. “Swallow daddy’s gift, sugar.”

His words made you realise that what you had in your mouth was his cum. Your grin grew wider as the tasty seed of Joel slid down your throat. You liked it when he took what was his without asking.

“Attagirl. Now back to sleep, kiddo. It’s past your bedtime,” he commended you, and you nodded absentmindedly.

Nudging his dick and tucking your hands under his thigh, you pressed a soft kiss on his cockhead, then closed your eyes.

“Thank you,” you sighed contently, to both Joel and his dick.

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (10)

In which Aubrey directs a video and Ollie crashes

series masterlist

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

aubreyyang posted on their story

olliebearman replied to your story

text me after my race?

aubreyyang

ofc good luck bearman xx

oliviarodrigo posted on their story

caption: so american my current fixation

formula1 posted

formula1 Ollie Bearman crashes and flips today at the Belgian Grand Prix. Waiting for more news ❤️‍🩹

liked by alex_albon, f1griddle and 77,890 others

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MESSAGES

aubrey

MISSED CALL

MISSED CALL

ollie

ollie pls pick up

CALL RECIEVED

O: hello?

A: Oh, thank god. Are you okay? I saw the car flip-

O: Hey, hey. I'm all good, Yang. Just a little bruised up. No worries about the trip.

A: I'm not worried about that, Bearman. I'm worried that you're not dead. Are you sure-

O: I'm okay, love. The medics need to check-

C: Aubrey?

A: Charles?

C: He's okay, but he needs to go test if he has a concussion. Wait for my call, okay?

CALL ENDED 02:05

olliebearman posted on their story

caption: All good, thanks for all of the love and concern. See you after summer break!

aubreyyang replied to your story

pls never do that again i almost shat myself

olliebearman

aww you were worried? :)

aubreyyang

OLIVER U FLIPPED IN A RACECAR

I hate seeing you hurt

please be more careful I had a heart attack almost smashed a camera

olliebearman

promise to not do that again

and tomorrow

are you still coming over to meet the fam?

aubreyyang

ofc!

aubberieyaang posted

aubberieyaang about to meet his parents PRAY FOR ME

liked by celine_diorr, chuck_bushes and 15 others

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celine_diorr "we're just really good friends)

-- aubberieyaang that doesn't sound like praying to me

leeahh_j more slowburn than percabeth u deserve an awards

-- aubberieyaang LEAH WTH WHOS SIDE ARE YOU ON

-- leeahh_j the side of love and happiness

liv_laugh_love you are so girl boss u directed a whole music video, the loul got into a car crash and now ur meeting his parents

-- aubberieyaang too scared to argue

A knock sounded on her door, and she smoothed out her sundress and little cardigan. Aubrey didn’t know why she was so nervous. Ollie was very much not her boyfriend, but when he’d asked her to meet his family over one of their very long FaceTime calls, she’d agreed. 

Because they were important to Ollie, which indirectly meant they were important to her. 

When she opened the door, she was met a wide-grin on Ollie’s handsome face. 

“Aubrey, hi. You look, wow.” Staring at her, he fiddled with his watch. Then, he snapped out of it, sweeping her up into a hug, lifting her off of her feet. 

“Oh-“ she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as he swung her into the hotel room. 

“Missed you.” He muttered into her shoulder. She flushed pleasantly; this was really nice. 

“I called you yesterday, sweetie.” The nickname slipped out so naturally, and she would’ve thought that he hadn’t even heard her if not for his smile against her skin and the sudden warmth of his ears on her neck. 

“It’s not the same…” he reluctantly let go, watching her grab her gifts for his parents.

“Mm, it is nice being to actually see you. I forgot how tall you were." 

He snorted, offering to carry the dutch oven she’d bought and the hydrangeas he told her were his mom’s favourites. 

“You didn’t have to. They like you already.” He opened the door for her, and she shrugged. 

“I was raised by Asian parents to never show up empty handed to someone’s house.” 

The car ride there was quiet, both of them reeling in each other’s presence. 

The only time they talked was about his crash and Aubrey made him promise to be more careful.

She liked watching him drive, all lounged in his seat, one big hand loose on the wheel, the other reaching over to hers. 

It was odd how they were; best friends now, and bordering a little more. She liked it. 

When they arrived, she steeled herself with a deep breath. 

“Hey, don’t worry.” He reassured her. With one last squeeze of her hand, he jogged over to open her car door, ever the gentleman. 

His house was charming; small and very English. Cozy, like the one she grew up in. 

“Okay, let’s go.”

bearyfast_04 posted

bearyfast_04 Top Five reasons why Aubrey is the best

she brought my mom and dad flowers and a dutch oven

she charmed my little siblings now they love her more than me

shes so hardworking and talented but still so humble

shes so beautiful it hurts

she smells really good

liked by kimi_possible, landoakabob and 12 others

view all comments

kimi_possible wow we lost another one

-- bearyfast_04 WHAT im just being honest

arthuranddw ur so down bad but did ur parents like her

-- bearyfast_04 yes obviously the bearman family loves Station 13 and they don't understand why we aren't together

-- leosdad tbh I don't either

-- bearyfast_04 shes like my best friend I don't want to lose her

chililos55 congrats to you and ur gf!

-- leosdad that's not!

-- chililos55 they're not together?? WHY AM I THE LAST TO KNOW ABOUT EVERYTHING

landoakabob im not the most humble

-- bearyfast_04 read that sentence Lando

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[haikyu-mp4]

I’d say it’s destiny

word count; 1605 – f!reader, implied age gap

Osamu and Atsumu weren’t completely identical, as some might know. Most notably, they decided to dye their hair differently in high school and it made the contrast of their eye colours stand out more.

However, one scenario it always worked for was substitute teachers. Osamu really didn’t mind stepping in for Atsumu today, because it meant he owed him later, but he totally forgot he was stepping in at all when he saw you.

Fresh out of university and first-time substitute teacher.

And you were crazy good-looking.

So when you were taking attendance and asked for Miya Atsumu, it went something like this…

“Here!”

“Hello, Miya,” you said, just like you did with all the other students because some teacher you once had said it made the pupils feel seen. Perhaps they weren’t considering high school students though.

“Call me Osamu,” he said with that trademark smirk he borrowed from his twin as if he was acting his part despite saying the complete opposite.

“…Atsumu?” you read off the paper, with no intention of using his given name but still curious about the name change. Suna already had his phone out in his lap, camera peeping just over the edge of his desk to film this.

“No, that’s my stupid brother.”

“So why are you… here then?”

Osamu slowly deflated, not looking as confident as he did a few seconds ago. Right, he’s not actually in this class. “I’d say it’s destiny?”

You blinked for a moment. This was not what you expected on your first day, and you weren’t quite sure what to do. Do you send him to the principal’s office? At least he’s getting an extra lesson, his apparent twin is the one who missed his. “Come to my desk after class, Miya,” you said strictly before moving on to the rest of the list, not missing the way some brunette kid snorted in the corner as Osamu agreed like you asked him out for dinner.

“You wanted to see me?” Osamu said, a cocky smirk back on his face and bag slung over his shoulder. You frowned, trying your best not to find it funny.

“Not like that, but you know it’s not okay to attend in someone else’s place?” you started, still not decided on how to lecture him properly. Fortunately, you had the number of another teacher that gave you some help.

He sat down on the chair on the other side of your desk. “I’m sorry my brother gave you trouble. What did you say your name was?” he asked, earning another squinted glare from you.

You ignored the comment and question, sighing and looking at the post-it note stuck to your schedule, scribbled with a name. “I was told I should talk to Kita Shinsuke about this, so unless you have something better to say, I think we should move along to find him and your brother.”

Osamu felt like the colour might have drained from his face, thinking of facing both his idiot brother’s complaints and Kita’s cold lecture at the same time. “Oh, uhh…”

You gave him a small smile, standing up already. “They should all be in the gym, right? Please show me the way there, I still get lost.”

Osamu would be damned if you kept smiling at him like that, making him stand right up with a sigh and hold the door open for you before leading you there. “Right this way, my lady.” At least he got to ask you about your favourite foods and other basic stuff that you didn’t mind answering on the way there.

Once again, he opened the door for you when you got to the gym, eyes quickly scanning around to see Suna already showing Atsumu the video. “Kita Shinsuke?” you asked loudly, looking around until you made eye contact with someone who seemed to respond to that name. The grey-haired boy came over, calmly asking you how he could help you while Osamu avoided eye contact but still didn’t want to leave your side. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, but another teacher told me you’re familiar with the problem. I had this Miya in my class while it should have been the other one,” you informed him, almost letting their given names slip off your tongue. Osamu was tuned into your voice, but it was difficult to ignore the agitating voice of his brother, which he heard in the background.

Kita nodded with a confirming sound, dark in his throat as he glared to the side at Osamu. “My apologies, I will make sure they receive the proper consequences,” he said and bowed to you.

Osamu looked at you with a sheepish smile. “Thank you for following me here, I’ll see you around?” he asked, using his possibly last moment alive to look at you one more time with every ounce of charm he had left.

You huffed a small laugh, nodding and turning around to find your way back. “Sure, have fun at practice, Miya.”

Kita and Atsumu were both angry, but who cares?

Osamu Miya was in love.

You saw Osamu around a couple more times while substituting for other teachers, even stepping in for the volleyball coach once. Now that, was something.

“What’d ya think, coach?” Osamu asked you, quite frankly looking like a puppy after spiking and turning to you. You sighed, once again trying to act indifferent and ignore him while also treating him like any other student.

“That was great!” you said with some enthusiasm, also leaning a bit to the side to look at his twin. “And a great set as well!” So now you had two flustered Miya twins.

“Let’s try the soul swap, ‘Samu!” Atsumu roared with newfound vigour, and you could see Kita about to protest.

“Here we go, I should film this,” Suna snickered from somewhere beside you, and you couldn’t help but agree.

After a year, you were offered a permanent position at another school in the prefecture, meaning you didn’t really see any students from Inarizaki again. You had almost forgotten them by the time you walked past a sign that said Onigiri Miya after going to an interview for a higher position in another school.

You tilted your head, squinting at the sign as you tried to remember where you heard that before, and then you looked down and through the window. Jaw slack, you were looking at a much more grown version of your biggest fan, Miya Osamu.

Walking in, you were overwhelmed with the delicious smell, your chest filling with air as you took in a long breath. Then you walked over to the short line, standing behind a rather burly man, meaning Osamu probably hadn’t seen you yet. You got a bit nervous, almost wondering if he would actually remember you or not.

Finally, the line moved along and you were face to face with a mouth-watering man. Mouth-watering food! He was even taller than in high school, shoulders broader and body a bit beefier from choosing this line of work but probably still maintaining some workouts.

You had to shake your head a bit when you realised you were just staring, plastering on a smile and then realising he was staring too, looking pleasantly surprised. Perhaps it was inappropriate to suddenly be interested in him, but while an awkward age difference stopped you from looking at him like this before, he was now an adult and you suddenly saw him in a new light.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully before huffing when he accidentally knocked over a cup of pens, scrambling to pick them all up again and shuffle them back into the cup. He glanced up at you with that familiar sheepish smile. “What can I get you today, teach?” he asked, applying the nickname to further emphasise that he remembered you.

You could feel your ears turning red as you pursed your lips, and you were about as beautiful as he remembered. “I’d like two tuna mayo onigiris, please,” you requested, pulling your card out to pay while he was watching your every move. He was glad he already had a lot of food prepared at this time of day so he wouldn’t have to leave this station to make them for you.

“I thought you liked salmon, want to try one on the house?” he asked, somehow remembering your conversations back in high school. You were shocked for a moment before nodding.

“If you insist.”

He smirked, and it was so familiar yet the feeling it gave you was so new and exciting. “I sure do,” he confirmed and then put one on a plate to hand it over. No one had come in after you yet, luckily. “I haven’t seen ya in a long time, do ya live close by?” he asked hopefully, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I’m out on a job interview actually,” you said, taking a bite of the onigiri and sighing with appreciation at how delicious it was. Truly made with love. “So who knows, maybe I’ll be around here more.”

“Then you’re more than welcome to stop by again.”

You smiled at him, and it was warmer than the ones he had received from you before. “I’d love that. It’s a bit far from where I live, though.” Your voice drifted off, unsure if you were oversharing because you were nervous.

“Oh? How did ya end up applying for a job here, then?” he asked, moving around to grab some fresh onigiri in a box for you and taking an extra breath to calm his heartbeat.

“I’d say it’s destiny.”

masterlist

[band--psycho]

Zayne x Reader - A Premature Prank

Just a little Halloween based story I thought of, was meant to post this a little while ago but forgot!

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

L&DS Masterlist / Zayne Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Mentions of blood, Halloween prank

Despite usually having to be up at ridiculously early hours in the morning, to deal with any Wanderers that had suddenly appeared, you were not a morning person. 

This wasn’t news to Zayne, given that you two had already spent multiple evenings with one another, whether it be at your place or at his. 

He was used to the silent and normally pretty grumpy version of you that he came face to face with most mornings. 

The only difference today was that you weren’t up early to deal with a Wanderer issue, instead you were going to the Hunters Association to get a private briefing on your next mission. 

And even though you’d agreed to Captain Jennas request to come into work early, you were now instantly regretting that decision. 

“Go have a shower, that should help wake you up,” Zayne suggested softly, pressing a quick kiss on the top of your head, before heading over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. 

You nodded in response to his words, as you rose to your feet and made your way silently to the bathroom. 

Desperately hoping that Zayne was right. 

Zayne in fact was not right. 

The shower did not help to wake you up at all. 

Nor did the slight shock your body experienced when you left the warmth of the bathroom in only a towel. 

It just made you feel cold. 

Which just made you want to return to the warmth of your bed. 

Which, no matter how much you wanted to do, you knew you couldn’t. 

“Here,” Zayne said, handing you a hot mug of coffee as you sat on a chair in your kitchen. 

“Thought you said too much caffeine was bad for my health,” you mumbled, carefully holding the mug in your hands, savoring the warmth it emitted as you recalled the conversation you’d had with Zayne about coffee. 

Or more so, the amount of coffee that you’d been drinking as you normally tended to have coffee instead of actually food for lunch. 

“In moderation, it’s okay,” he replied, leaving your side for a few moments before re-appearing, this time with a plate of food. 

“Zayne-”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he reminded you with a small smile before going into the bathroom. 

He was equally as tired as you were, he just hid it better and in all honesty he enjoyed looking after you like this in the mornings. 

It gave him a glimpse of a future he yearned for with you. 

He’d gone into the bathroom to brush his teeth, but how he was feeling completely changed the second he went into the bathroom and noticed blood on the usually white bath mat next to the shower. 

His face went pale, worry beginning to race through his mind.

You were hurt? 

How had he not noticed any injuries on you?

By the looks of the mat you’d lost quite a bit of blood.

Given his own fatigue, he became single minded in his concern for you, so much so that the usually observant man had missed the fact that the crimson stains on the were nowhere else apart from the white fabric of the mat. 

His mind was racing as he left the bathroom, quickly making his way towards you, a panicked look filling his eyes as they scanned over your body. 

“Zayne?” You questioned after taking a sip of your coffee, noticing the emotion in his eyes. 

“Where are your injuries?” he asked, kneeling infront of you, checking your legs for any open wounds. 

“What?” you questioned, feeling your eyes narrow in confusion as you tried to ignore the sparks his fingertips were leaving in their wake as they trailed up your leg. 

“There’s blood on the mat,” Zayne answered, his eyes locking with yours. 

Blood? 

On the mat? 

‘Oh shit’ you thought to yourself. 

Your eyes widened in realisation, before a small giggle fell from your lips, making Zayne now narrow his eyes in confusion.

You’d completely forgotten that you had it there and obviously had been so oblivious to the ‘blood’ that was on the mat as you left the bathroom. 

“Zayne, I’m not hurt,” you assured him, placing your hands on either side of his face. 

“It’s a halloween mat…I forgot it was there,” you explained, watching as the confusion in his eyes morphed into relief. 

“It shows what looks like blood when it’s wet,” you continued to explain for a sense of clarity for the doctor. 

“Why do you have it?”

You bit your lip to try and hold back the smirk that was trying to grow on your lips.

Had you purchased the mat to prank Zayne on halloween…yes…

But Halloween was not today. 

“It was for a prank, wasn’t it?” Zayne asked before you were able to even open your mouth. 

You nodded,unsure on how to take his deadpan expression. 

You hadn’t intended to worry him the way you had unintentionally done so…it was just meant to be a little prank, one that you’d both be able to laugh about in years to come. 

“I’m sorry,” 

“You will be,” he whispered back with a low voice, as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, “ Now it means I have to think of a way to get back at you.” 

Those were the final words he said to you before he left your apartment altogether.

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @deathkat657 @callme-amaya @boobearymuch @comatosebunny09 @ryuustoru @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @ayatoq @cheesemachine44 @popcorn-mochi01 @ladyparamount @thegalaxysedge22 @hotdogcookie @book-dragon03 @whimsiecat

[copperbadge]

[ID: My shower, tiled in ugly but functional brown, with the shower curtain off to one side; fixed to the ceiling is an oblong LED lamp, shining brightly down into the shower.]

Forgot to post this yesterday! That's the new little lamp I've installed in the shower for better lighting, and actually it looks kinda cool.

It doesn't work, but it looks cool. :D

I shouldn't say it doesn't work because obviously it's lit up in the photo, but it's not serving its purpose. An overhead light in that space is too high up for me to easily switch on manually, so I bought one with motion detection. In theory, when you get in, the shower the light will flick on.

In practice, the motion detection only detects a change of light, not actual movement (it's meant, I think, for something more like a garage, where when you open the door to go in, the ambient light you've let in makes it go on). The result is that in order to get it to turn on, one has to perform a kind of magical summoning ritual consisting of flicking the bathroom lights off and on, and it won't stay on unless the rest of the bathroom is dark, which defeats the point.

It was a $7 lamp, so I'm not overly annoyed. The pricier option (all of I think about $20) has a remote control, so I might go that route, but I also know of a brand with better motion sensing, so I may order from there.

Today's cleaning was mostly a form of rearranging furniture. I don't want my laundry hamper at the foot of my bed anymore -- it crowds the room and looks ugly on my video calls. I've moved it to the hall closet opposite the bathroom, but that meant shifting the storage bins already there and the majority of the lightweight jackets hanging above them. The bins mostly went into the bedroom closet, replacing a shelf I moved out of the closet and may donate, except for one open bin with the camping supplies, which I need to repack and find a home for. Right now there's just a nook of my living room that's "storage staging"; sometimes you just gotta get messier before you get cleaner.

In any case, that took about 30 minutes of a Behind The Bastards episode (The History Of American Masculinity, Pt. 1) and I'm taking it easy because I'm still battling a sinus infection, which is the reason I didn't scrub the toilet instead because I felt okay to move things around but not to get up close and personal with cleaning products. I took a few measurements of the hall closet (which has no doors) and I'm going to spend the rest of my allotted cleaning time on the sofa under an electric blanket, shopping for an appropriate set of shelving to replace what's currently there and make better use of the space. (I was tempted to try and convert it into a micro-office like you saw in trendy magazines early in the pandemic, but I prefer my office setup with a little more natural light.)

[sanskari-kanya]

Guess who got 30/30 on her finals’ viva 😭💃

It was the biggest adventure of my goddamn life.

The viva was scheduled at 3 pm today so I was pretty chill. I was like okay I’ll do the hardest ones till late night, grab some good sleep and wake up a little early to revise the rest.

But my university sent a mail at 10:30 pm, saying ✨surprise motherfuckers, the time is changed to 9:30 am, all the best insufferable freshers✨

Post this mail, I had made peace in accepting that I aint gonna get any sleep tonight and I had to revise 4 subjects till 8 am (minus 30 minutes to get my boogie ass ready because I will never enter the uni looking like crap and 30 more minutes to reach the university)

I started studying around 12 am because all we did was cuss the fuck out of the university and exam managers for a bloody 1.5 hours.

Considering my attention span, my study session lasted for approximately 15 minutes before I opened Pinterest and keep scrolling mindlessly until it was suddenly 2 am 🤩. Then I went for a mindless walk around the hostel, disturbed my bf for a good 15 minutes, and realised he wasn’t giving me any attention because he actually studies and uski fati padi thi so I came back in my room and re-started studying. It continued till 5 am (paired with stress eating, gossiping, watching a documentary)

THEN, I ACCIDENTALLY FELL ASLEEP AT 5 AM AND WOKE UP AT 8 AM!?!? I had to leave at 9 am so there was no bloody chance of revising Histology and Radiology that I very confidently left for the morning 🤗 I left the house at 9 and kept a ppt of histological slides open on my phone so I could at least revise SOMETHING.

If this drama was not enough, here is more :

Me and my friend had decided to pair up for the viva but some dude mishandled the list and jumbled the numbers and I had to beg my classmate to go with a random dude so me and bestie could go tgt.

As I was about to enter the viva room, a physical fight broke pit between two students and my examiner walked out to stop the fight and never returned.

I confidently wrong answered a sub question and made the doctor believe that I was right cus I answered everything else too. 10 in Anatomy ✅

Manually picked the harder examiner for Histology because bestie shat in anatomy so I wanted her to score in Histology with the easier examiner. My reactions to the first two questions- ✨ma’am I don’t know✨ and she was glaring me so bad I cannot explain y’all but then by god’s grace, she asked me more questions (redemption arc) that I answered but she gave me 7.5 so I was like okay, I did shit in the beginning so-

Next was physiology and if y’all weren’t aware of my bad reputation with the professor (George), well now you are 🤗 But then I again had a choice to choose my examiner and I chose my favourite teacher from last semester and George was like ✨why are you not sitting with me huh✨ in the most sarcastic tone ever like i would ever voluntarily chose you , kind sir.

End result, I scored full in physiology too which just proves that my physiology wasn’t a problem, George was the problem!

Last was Radiology. I was scared for my life since I slept and didn’t revise radiology AT ALL. But the examiner was impressed by my marks and gave me 2.5 🙂‍↕️

Now if that still wasn’t enough adventure for you, let me introduce you to my bad math skills. 7.5 in Histology + 2.5 in radiology makes 10 which meant I had scored 30/30 but my dumbass forgot math and thought I scored only 27.5 and went out a little sad.

Then a senior dude asked me how was it and I was like ‘Accha tha bas muje ek baat bata histology ke liye maximum kitna hota hai?’ And he was 7.5 and then it hit me ‘Oh bhaiii fir toh muje full mile hai’ 😭😭😭

I’m never forgetting this day. I narrated this entire thing to my mom twice, once to bf, a 30 min voice note to @hum-suffer and now on tumblr.

[fortemelody]

AHHHSHFBTKFNTLFKGNFMDM SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER SONIC 3 TRAILER IM LOOSING MY SHIT RN

here’s some things i noticed/wondered/loved:

- i think in that scene where tom is on the ground yelling for sonic, he is wearing a special forces suit. maybe he upgraded from cop to working with gun?? if so i think that’s a really good use of his character actually! he wanted to save a life and raise a family above all else yes, but he still got his previous dream of doing more serious cop work!

- shadow just. has a big ass portal?? like holy shit he’s just suckin the life outta earth and ig that’s one way to do it (or maybe it’s just a ring and i’m stupid idek)

- i’m sure we’ll learn more about this in the actual movie so i’m not too worried, but i’m super confused at the very beginning scene. apparently sonic didn’t change his heart…but he did tho? like he learned what being a true hero meant in the last movie. tbh i feel like that’s enough but hey i’m not against more character development for our boy so!! (also that bit where he’s like “in my lungs” was actually really funny to me, ben schwartz’ awesome delivery caught me off guard)

- GERALD ROBOTNIK ALIVE HUUUUH?! tbh i would’ve preferred if maria was alive, i feel like that would be an interesting dynamic. but also ig that would make it harder for shadow to learn anything so i totally get it. anyways i’m just glad they’re putting a little twist on the story, it keeps it interesting. they already sorta did that with the knuckles and iblis thing actually! (even if that show sucked ass and although that probably wasn’t intentional 😭)

- even tho bro only got like… 3 lines, i really think keanu fits shadow. he’s very soft spoken in comparison to the rest of the case which feels nice. also he’s like the “really bad” guy so ofc he’s not gonna be yappin on and on like sonic or robotnik and he’s gonna take things uber seriously.

- where was my girl maddie :( i think she was only in like a singular frame. hope shes in the movie a somewhat significant amount. i heart pretzel lady!! could live without wade tho like pls im so sick of his bowling soap opera 💀

- FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK FAT ROBOTNIK!!! after fucking 3 movies they finally fulfilled jim carrey’s wishes!! let the man get creative like please i love jim carrey sm aughdfhfnfmschxj. also love how we got so much stobonik content within that short scene like jesus come get y’all’s food

- shadow at one point says something along the lines of “when we’re done, there won’t be anything left.” maybe i’m reading WAY to into this but what does the “we’re” part mean?? is he working with others? i feel like this is either gonna be team dark or some new movie exclusive character(s). edit: someone made a valid point that he’s actually probably referring to gerald (look at reblogs!)

-CHAO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lowkey wonder if the room therye in is like an amusement park or somethin like that

- no sign of amy :( but honestly my prediction now is that she’s gonna be the post credit scene teaser cus they always do a new character reveal there. first tails, then shadow. and honestly now i think it might be better that way so shadow can have a chance to breathe and show his story in full. i’m pretty sure i vaguely remember colleen (tails’ VA) being kinda mysterious about amy’s appearance when asked, and also the fact that it was confirmed that this isn’t the end of the movie franchise/universe. but ig we’ll just have to wait and see!

so sorry i stated this yesterday morning to give my initial thoughts but then got busy and completely forgot to post/finish it. and today i started (and am close to finishing) a very long edit of the trailer, so be on the look out for that too!

genuinely i feel like this movie is gonna somehow be even more record breaking than any of the previous movies and i am so here for the hype 🙏

[sluttysissyslave]

For Sissies and Alike!

This is a very long post so bear with me, do with it what you wish, forget it if you want to, but maybe, just maybe consider it. So, let me tell you why and how you all became what you are today, and how to go forward. If you feel you relate to it then let it sit, if it doesn't, forget about it.

Most of you developed these feelings when you were alone and sad, your standards dropped lower and lower without you even realizing it, and next thing you know you're fantasizing about being a slut for women, or maybe even men. But what you forgot about, was that originally, you were just searching for female affection, the touch of that girl you really liked but were too afraid to go up to. You became so desperate for love, for some sort of connection that you started modifying things... "Maybe if I submit myself to a woman she will finally love me" you degraded yourself for love you didn't try hard enough to get. And now, behind a digital screen you've found what you call your little safe space, you don't feel like you're alone in this anymore, it's your coping mechanism. You seek validation in a place designed for men to be degraded, not validated. If you started cross-dressing when you were young. Ask yourself: did you get a lot of human connection? Did your parents pay attention to you? You realised that girls receive all the attention, the love you so desperately wanted that no-one gave you when you were young. So you subconsciously realised the being a girl could get you that. When you wore the girly clothes and finally felt warm, and embraced, you just manifested that for yourself over time and when it happened you actually believed it, which is only natural, that's what manifestation does. Your mind tricked you into believing that you found what you were looking for. 

So, we've established that doing sexually feminine things is because submissive thoughts in a gay way is because you crave the love and affection you've been missing in your life. 

Some people call this mental illness, I think that's disrespectful and inaccurate, I say these traits are mental coping mechanisms, and you know what? They feel good, they feel great in fact, but they aren't what you were meant to be, you find solace and comfort in those rushes of endorphins and other feel-good chemicals. But let me remind you, this isn't a long-term solution, you will realize this as time goes on, so you'll go even more extreme to cope, to get an even bigger rush. You need to reconsider, the withdrawal will feel terrible, but the way you are currently going won't get you to the desires you were always meant to have, not the ones you might think you're currently suppressing.

Brainwashing:

Arguably you are truly the victims, but no-one is coming to save you but yourself. You will always be tested, from all sides, it's up to you whether you give in or not. Be strong, don't give in, stand your ground. Trust that there's always a better way, a better option, one that's more rewarding than the path you're on now.

So why are you the victims? Well in modern western society it is being slowly programmed into people from a very young age, as soon as they can absorb information. Ideologies that men are worthless, good for nothing, and that women are superior. I don't want to go into the details of why this is the case because then you'll be reading this until tomorrow, but trust me that it's the case, and let me prove it with an adequate example. Most submissive men (and all woke and other LGBT people are all located in the "rich" west), almost none in eastern and conservative countries. Why is that? They don't have exposure to these things from a young age, it's not that sissies and alike don't exist there, they aren't created. Also they are often poorer than you are, with lots of social security, peace and plentiful resources, people get lazy and weak, those people living in let's say, Moldova, have other things to worry about than putting on makeup and sticking a butt plug up their bum. They aren't suppressing any femininity (sexually), they never had any to begin with.

Let's talk about how you and your thoughts are being manipulated.

Origins in modern pop culture:

Tv shows - the man is always the idiot and the woman is always the smart, reasonable one. That wasn't always the case in civilized history, both men and women were smart and reasonable, their combined traits completed each other's and they could be a strong couple. Let's look at some examples… It starts with Friends - Joey, Chandler, are portrayed as a bit dumb, and the girls generally smarter. The Simpsons - Homer is an idiot, his wife is the real boss. Family Guy - Peter is an absolute idiot and Louis is the brains of the family, a voice of reason. And it's even in shows for little children, in Peppa pig The father is hardly a figure to look up to. The disrespect towards men has been going on for decades, and it really started, rather perhaps interestingly, after the fall of the Soviet Union, but I once again don't want to get into politics or else this post will never end. We are at a stage now where especially if you're white you are almost persecuted for it. You can't disagree when I say all people should be treated equally right? So why doesn't that apply to race. A fitting quote to go by for this would be: "Don't humiliate yourself before anyone, and don't haughty yourself over anyone"

I actually feel terrible for the genuine, kind, trans women who have done so much for themselves and still don't maybe feel good and satisfied. You've had to overcome a lot in pursuit of happiness, and whether you made you right or wrong choice is now irrelevant. Try to live your best life with what you have, and don't look back, it's too late for that anyway, it would only make things worse now. Look towards the future and never look back, do things which make YOU happy, and not someone else.

For dominant women: Don't see this as a threat, there will always be guys who are more submissive, everyone is definitely and spread out all across the scale, you'll find who you're looking for, only men with with low self-esteem want a weak-minded woman who they can control in all aspects of life. Most men like a strong-minded woman, I also want a strong woman. But don't confuse this for sexual submissiveness/dominance, those aren't the same thing. Feminine doesn't mean weak! 

General statement: The world is all butterflies and fairy tales now, enjoy it while you can, it will get worse, wars are coming, political and ideological changes are going to happen and if you are unprepared then, I have news, it won't end well. You are living in a digital jail right now, you are getting affected/manipulated, but at the end of the day you are the one who holds your own phone or opens your computer. Give yourself the power to control yourself, and free yourself of this jail.

IDEAS AND SOLUTIONS

Become the type man you'd want to serve: Often I see people with slight or fully gay fantasies about men, or being outperformed by certain men (women want them and not you. Become that man. It's going to be hard, in fact it's going to be the hardest thing you will ever do in your life, and it won't even come close. Try it, a person should be adventurous in life so why wouldn't you like to feel what it's like being that person? And the best part is, if you don't like it, you can go back to what you were before and say that you've tried it all and found what you really are, but you can't say that without actually experiencing it, not even a discussion. It'll be a process for a minimum of 1-2 years, and will require discipline and self-control, hey that's similar to serving and/or being locked in chastity, both of those require discipline and self-control too. You can do it.

Find yourself: People love talking about finding themselves, I read it here every now and again, "I found my true self here". You cannot find yourself behind a digital screen, you will find yourself by putting yourself in difficult situations, the easiest way to do that is by going into nature. Take a large backpack with only your essentials and survive in the forest for a week. If that's too much, then just go out in the morning, spend the night and come back, walking through terrain and getting to some destination. Maybe you live in a cold climate, in winter go out into the snow and walk around the forests all day. Remember to bring an emergency phone if going to places you don't know too well. 

Estrogen vs Testosterone: Estrogen makes you girly, and Testosterone manly, we know that right? To increase your estrogen naturally you can drink soy product, live an unhealthy lifestyle, and mentally stimulate yourself. You cannot produce as much estrogen naturally as a woman does, you'd have to take supplements. A healthy lifestyle in women increases their estrogen, and a healthy lifestyle in men increases their testosterone. You can increase your testosterone by exercising, eating meat (protein), onion, dark chocolate, a Mediterranean diet is pretty good, and of course getting high quality sleep, (here I am at 3am writing this post - hypocrite, I'm ashamed and I'll work on it).

Reward yourself. When you achieved a goal to becoming your new masculine life, treat yourself to something fulfilling. Whether it's some sort of food or an experience. We all need positive affirmations. You can reflect on what you've done well and what you've done poorly. Like me who wanted to s few important things and instead procrastinated for 3 days, hence, no reward, but as double self motivation I'll do a super big reward after putting myself together and getting all I wanted done (this post was no. 5 priority).

Belief. Believe in yourself that you can do it, your mind is extremely powerful, you give it less credit than it deserves, if you channel it the right way then it was serve you as a great tool.

Energy. Energy is another real, powerful, but invisible thing. Have you ever entered a historical religious place of worship? Like an ancient church in Europe or a mosque in the old Ottoman Empire like Turkey or even spain, a Buddhist or Hindu temple in Asia… they all have energy which you can feel, you absorb things differently with various energies. Or maybe more relatable, you're having fun at an outgoing fun party, you feel good right, smiling and enjoying life. That's positive energy. If you put yourself in environments with the type of energy you are currently looking for, it will help, a lot. I don't mean to say you should be religious or anything, but there's nothing wrong if you are or want to, it gives you hope and a sense of safety and security in its own ways.

Stand up for yourself. Have some morals and beliefs which you like and stand by. Don't be afraid to defend them in an argument.

This is my first authentic post on this website and I was very hesitant to make it, after all no-one might even read what I spent so much time on, but if at least one person is somehow positively influenced then it was worth it. I know that I will probably be reported by someone simply because they didn't agree with what I wrote, and my account will be taken down. If you don't agree with the things I said then ignore them, I made this for people who can resonate with something I wrote (not at all necessarily all of it), people who don't even know why they like the things they like, know it's not what they always wanted but find pleasure in it now. Hence please reblog if you like what you read, it won't be here forever.

If you are unsure or want to discuss anything feel free to DM.

If you want to do some research yourself, start with researching "Subliminal perception". It's absolutely everywhere and affects everyone, like it or not.

I might start positive things with a little political subcontext explaining my points further.

[yuri-is-online]

hi, there! :D I hope to be on time for the event can I request :

(Finding a confession letter in your locker) With Silver, Jade and Deuce? Plz

22. Finding a confession letter in your locker

Hi hi you are very much on time of course you can （＾ワ＾）

Also just letting you know here, I did get your other request and do not mind answering it at all (though i am going to post some other ones first), in my og post I mentioned the prompts were limited by ask, so you submitted everything correctly, don't worry!

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, fluff, Jade is a red flag as usual. Check out the rest of the event requests here.

Silver

There is an unfairly pretty looking man asleep in front of the gym lockers, face down, arms at his side, but with the light still hitting his hair just right way to make him look like he has a halo. You know that Silver won't be upset if you try to wake him, but as you kneel to do so, the slight creak of an unkempt hinge draws your attention up from your sleeping senior to your own slightly open locker.

Weird, you could have sworn you locked it at the end of class.

"Silver?" You decide to try calling out to him while you examine your locker for any sign of tampering beyond the obvious. "You good down there?" Nothing seems to have been taken, but something has been left: a letter. Gingerly, you remove and settle yourself on the floor next to Silver, gently shaking him as you open it.

Yuu,

I'm afraid that if I try to simply say to you how I feel, I won't be able to fully convey just how grateful I am to have met you, just how much you mean to me. But I want to try and give you a confession you deserve so please, meet me in the courtyard after your classes. I promise to say the words to you then.

-Silver

"I wasn't supposed to still be here when you read that." A muffled voice draws your attention back to Silver, who slowly pushes himself up to look into your eyes. "But since I am, I like you prefect." The words are simple, but the sincerity of his gaze adds the weight he was so afraid of missing.

Jade

You were screwed. The instant you saw the condition of the letter inside that lavender envelope you knew it was never meant to be seen, least of all by the person it was addressed to. The paper was hastily torn from a composition book, crumpled and lightly stained with what you assume from the scent is tea. No, you can't really picture someone as collected as Jade allowing the messy parts of his thoughts to be seen

You are a mystery I want to unravel

I never get tired of your voice

I want to be the first person they think of in the morning and the last thing they imagine at night. When they are alone I want them to long to return to my side, when someone hurts them I want to be the one who repays their enemies in kind. There is a word for these emotions, something that's as wonderfully unpredictable as it is painful-

A head rests on your shoulder, two strong arms pull you into an embrace that prevents you from seeing his face as a deep sigh tickles your ear, reciting from memory the destroyed portion of the letter-

"That word is love, I am in love with Yuu." Jade smiles into your neck as you shudder in surprise. "Since you are not attempting to run away, can I assume I have something of a chance?"

Deuce

"Is it just me or is Juice acting weird today?" Ace asks, slacking off away from Vargas's watchful eyes behind you and Grim. Not that you haven't noticed, but now that Ace mentions it- "I mean he's sneaking out of class, isn't PE the one he's actually good at?" You both look pointedly towards the lockers Deuce is not so sneakily heading towards with concern.

"Um, I'll be right back." You try to hide your concern but the judgmental faces that see you off suggest you aren't exactly successful. Deuce's broad shoulders disappear into the hallway and you attempt to calmly follow. Maybe he's sick? Or has forgot something? You run through so many scenarios that you fail to pay attention to where you are going and walk right into your target's back.

"Prefect!" Deuce jumps and you fluster, both of you look away from each other to the locker Duece had been standing in front of. "I'm sorry." He looks so embarrassed. You reach to open your locker as Deuce continues. "I really am sorry, it's just I thought really hard about the right way to confess but we have almost every class together..." Sure enough there's a letter sat neatly on top of your things, sealed with a neat spade sticker that leaves little doubt about who it's from.

"Technically you just did." You laugh and bring the letter close to your heart. "Meet me at Ramshackle after school."

"Why?" He asks, clearly nervous.

"Well you wanted to properly confess right? So let me properly answer." Technically the smile on your face already does.