#is this cringe as fuck it might be tell me so I can delete it if yes

[camellcat]

I wonder if Scott's alpha teeth made him nervous even after he got used to them just Being A Thing Now. If, when he would catch the glint of red eyes staring back at him, he had to still an instinctive flinch and try not to think of all the people who have threatened to or almost ended his life with that same vibrant hue. If the feeling of blood under his claws, on his skin, in his hair and soaked into his clothes ever became normal, if it was ever something truly able to be numbed and ignored. If seeing his shadow with pointed ears and elongated claws and shredded shirts gave him day terrors like the Nogitsune never went away; a paranoia that everyone could see how fucking messed up (how scary) he was. If Scott ever truly moved on from feeling afraid of being a monster, of becoming a Monster. Not all monsters do monstrous things, but all Scott has ever seen is monsters who choose to act like their namesake.

If he continues to be cautious and aware of his teeth, of his eyes, of how blood is overwhelming and what it's like to be afraid --- because if he looses his humanity, his tie to slow healing and faulty lungs and what it feels like to be prey to somebody else, how will he be any different from the monsters that plague him?

Scott is the outlier, and he does not let his monstrous features define how he chooses to behave and who is chooses to be.

[abbs-writes]

talk too much | Spencer Reid

Warnings: kidnapping, torture, lots of bad language, Spencer gets angry and can be kinda mean, reader talks way too much, crying, uh lots and lots of angst and idk what else

Authors note: hey so, a while back I had a different account (ive had many different accounts) but it was something along the lines of gizmo-writes or gizmo-writes-sfw and this was posted on there but my accounts have been deleted since then, so if it seems familiar it might be but I can confirm it's by me, it's been sitting in my notes lol

"Guys! Guys! I got something!" Garcia rushed into the conference room, setting her laptop on the table and turning on the tv. There you were, completely out of it, obviously with the way your head lolled back. You were heated up, bruised badly and your head was bleeding but you were obviously so out of it that you didn't even notice. "Where is this coming from?" Hotch asked as Garcia shook her head, "I-I don't know, it's pinging off to many towers, whoever is doing this is- is using so many different encryptions and firewalls." (genuinely don't know tech terminology im so sorry if this took y'all out of it I apologize) She was shaking, so worried about you she wasn't sure she could think straight.

Spencer was the same way, but he knew he couldn't think straight. The way you looked, where you were, reminded him so much of how Tobias Hankle had treated him. Every single aspect that he had tried so hard to forget was coming back to him now. The abuse, the drugs, the cravings. He held onto the chair with an iron grip, knuckles turning white. He didn't want to see you like this, he didn't like the thoughts running through his head right now. He didn't wanna see the abuse you were going to endure, he didn't want to hear your tortured screams. This was his own form of torture.

You really couldn't feel anything but you figured that was for the better. Your head rolled to the side, your eyes were open but everything was so blurry you couldn't even see. You could make up an outline of someone, someone tall. For a moment you felt joy, you felt safety. "Spence?" You said. But it was spencer, he was on the other side of a screen and when he heard his name, his heart broke. He wanted to be able to yell at you, tell you that it wasn't him, tell you to run even if you weren't sure if your legs could move. But he couldn't, he just had to sit there and watch.

"Not quite," The man said, walking closer to you so you could see him. Your eyes narrowed as you realized the man in front of you truly wasn't Spencer and was in fact some psycho. You jerked in your restraints, trying to punch whoever was in front of you but yet you couldn't move. "Good try," he chuckled coldly. "Jesus christ," you murmured, looking down to see your hands tied to the chair. "You're begging for someone who doesn't exist honey," the man said. You rolled your eyes at that, "seriously? Why do you care if I beg for someone you don't believe in? Besides i wasn't begging I was-" You were cut off with a sharp slap to your face.

Spencer really wished you weren't so catty sometimes. Sure, he liked it sometimes, especially when you were able to stick up for yourself or him when someone said something rude. But right now he was begging you to keep your mouth shut. "Was that really necessary? You could've just told me to shut up-" once again you were slapped again. "Shut the fuck up!" He yelled at you. "Okay!" You yelled back. Spencer cringed, "why won't she just be quiet," he groaned. "Spence, she's trying-" JJ started but Spence stopped her, "I don't care what she was trying! She knows better than to fight back when she's unable to physically fight! All this will do is get her in more trouble!" He said, slamming his fist on the table as he watched you. "Kid, she's a smart girl." Derek tried to say but spencer shook his head, "She's not being smart right now." He said.

Spencer was right, you weren't being smart and deep down you knew that but god, you were so fucking angry. Angry at yourself, angry at the man in front of you. You don't even remember how you were taken, you don't remember what you did for this to happen, all you knew is it had to somehow be your fault. "Finally, she shuts up," the man said, grabbing your face and making you look up at him. "You're much prettier when you're quiet. Does your boyfriend ever tell you that? I bet he does because you can never seem to just shut the fuck up," he spat. You clenched your jaw at the mention of Spencer. "How the Fuck do you know about my boyfriend?" You asked, looking up at him angrily. "Why? Does that bother you when I mention him? Does it make you angry that i know about him?" He asked, squeezing your face to the point that it hurt. "Don't fucking touch him," you spat at him making the man pull back and wipe his space of your spit. "God, you're really fucking dumb aren't you?" He said. "Still smarter than you," you said.

Spencer couldn't watch this, he couldn't watch you dig yourself into a hole that he wasn't sure you'd come out alive. His jaw clenched as he watched you be tased, your head falling back as you cried out in pain. "Oh my god," Garcia said, shielding her eyes. Spencer forced himself to watch, he had to know, he had to see what happened so he would know how to help you when you got back. He needed to know, despite the fact that these images would be engrained in his brain forever.

"This isn't helping, we need to figure out where she is and I don't know how watching this will help." JJ spoke, half tired of watching you be tortured and half wanting to actually find you. "I don't see anything identifying in the background, no windows, no pictures." Emily pointed out. "She might say something if she knew he was filming. She may know where she is." Derek pointed out. "She can barely even see straight and with how much she's talking she might not even make it through the night," Spencer muttered. "Spence!" JJ said. "What?! I'm right! I love her but she never shuts the fuck up and right now it may cause her death but yet she's still too fucking stubborn to just shut the fuck up and pay attention," He spat. He was angry, he had every right to be. but his anger was misdirected at you. He was mad at the unsub, mad that a man took you and was holding you hostage and torturing you. He wasn't mad at you, a bit annoyed but never mad.

"Spencer, you are not helping us right now. We understand you're mad but you have no right to talk about her like that." JJ said. Spencer just shook his head, jaw clenching. "As much as you may hate this Reid, we need you. And what we need is for you to watch, to listen, see if her or she says something that may give us a hint. Can you do that? Or do I need to kick you out?" Emily asked, giving him a pointed look. "I understand, i Can do that." He said through gritted teeth. He finally sat down and just stared at the tv. He was thankful you couldn't hear him, he genuinely felt bad about what he said but he couldn't even apologize to you because you weren't here.

Your head fell forward after being tased multiple times finally stopped. "Will you be quiet now?" The man asked. You nodded, reluctantly. You wanted to speak but you were in so much pain you couldn't. You were shaking, you couldn't even move your head with how tired your body was. "Good, finally." He said, "now you can get a good look at this." The man said as he walked behind you. He grabbed your head roughly by your hair, pulling your head back to look up. You tried to focus your eyes but you couldn't, everything was so blurry and your head had started to hurt. "Do you see that? They can see you. They're watching. God, that's what makes this fun, knowing they're watching you but they can't do anything to help. Isn't that fun?" He asked. You didn't respond and obviously that made him angry. He yanked your head back by your hair making you let out a pathetic cry. "Answer me," he demanded. "Thought you didn't want me to talk?" You said tiredly. "You're a fucking brat you know that? I don't know how anyone puts up with you." He let go of your hair and your head fell forward once again.

Spencer closed his eyes tightly, breathing heavily. This was torture for him and now he knew the unsub was enjoying it. The unsub knew this wasn't only torture for you but for them too and he loved it. He hated every second of this, he hated every time you opened your mouth. It pained him, he knew you were angry, it didn't take a profiler to see that, but he just couldn't understand why you wouldn't stop talking back.

"I have to go out, you stay put okay?" He said, pushing your hair out of your face. It was oddly tender coming from a man who had just slapped you, tased you and pulled your hair and not in the enjoyable way. "Gotta make sure you look pretty for your boyfriend," he said. He then grabbed his keys and left. You couldn't think straight, everything was setting in so slowly. They were watching, you kept having to repeat that to yourself till you would believe it was true. You tried to lift your head but it just fell back down. You groaned, angry at yourself that you couldn't even look at the camera. You had something to tell them, you had seen the unsubs face and they hadn't. He wore a black ski mask around you and know you knew why, he had been filming this.

"B-bl-blue eyes," you spoke slowly, tiredly. You needed to get this out before you passed out again. Spencer raised his head to watch you. "H-he has blue eyes and brown hair." You had to stop to breathe. "S-scar on his face, left side on his cheek. P-please understand I am okay, i am strong," you croaked out. Your voice was betraying you and you hated it. It made you angry, making you clench your fists. "I can take It.. i-i don't know where I am.. it's the woods- i-I don't remember how I got here. Please- just find me," you closed your eyes tightly trying to hold back your tears. You dug your nails into the wood of the chair trying to calm yourself and ground yourself. Spencer had to stop himself from crying too, "Garcia, did you get that?" He asked. "Yes- yes I did. I'm looking. I'm searching. Uh blue eyes, dark hair, scar- uh- Jeffery Golden," She said looking at Spencer. "Name and address?" JJ asked. "Sending now," Garcia said. The team stood up and were quick to leave, Spencer included.

Garcia kept watch on you, once the team left she broke down and started crying. She had to constantly remind herself that you were okay but it was hard, especially when she was watching you fall apart in front of her eyes. They found the man, Jeffery Golden. But the problem was, you weren't there, you weren't in his house nor his job. You weren't there and that scared the shit out of Spencer. They had the man but no clue where you were and if they didn't find you soon, you may not survive due to your injuries. Sure, he could see the ones on the outside but he wasn't sure about any internal bleeding.

"Where is she?" Rossi asked the unsub who was sitting across the table from him. "Now where's the fun in telling you?" He asked, smirk playing in his face. "If you tell us where she is, we will tell them you cooperated. Now tell us where she is." Hotch said in his demanding tone. "Where's the boyfriend? I wanna talk to him," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Absolutely not, you tell us where she is and maybe we will talk about a deal." Rossi said. "Here's my deal, you let me talk to the doctor and then I'll tell you where she is." He said, still smirking.

With that Hotch and Rossi walked out. "Let me in there," Spencer immediately said. "No, we don't know if he's being honest," Hotch said. "That doesn't matter, if he's willing to talk then I should go in there." Spencer said. "He just wants to mess with you Reid, he has said it himself that he enjoys this." Rossi said. "I don't care, this is our only chance. Please just let me talk to him. Please," Spencer begged. Hotch shook his head, "Fine, but the second it goes wrong I will pull you out of there." He said. Spencer nodded before walking into the room.

"There he is, the stunning Dr. Spencer Reid." The unsub said, relaxing in his seat as Spencer and Hotch walked in. "How are you? How have you been?" He asked but no one spoke. Hotch sat down, "Reid," he said. Spencer stared at the guy as he sat down. "Oof, someone is angry, how can you truly be angry over someone like her? If anything I think she needs this. Someone needs to teach her to keep her mouth shut, arent I right, Dr. Reid?" He asked. Spencer was unwavering, showing no emotion. "Where is she?" Was all he asked. "Oh come on, give me something Spence! I know you think of her the same way I do. An annoying brat who has never learned to shut the fuck up and look where it got her. She needed to learn her lesson." He stated. Still he remained emotionless. "You said if we brought him in here, you would tell us where she is." Spencer said. "I said that and I may have lied. But come on, admit it. You hate her just like I do." He said. Spencer slammed his fists on the table, "I love her! Tell me where she is!" He yelled. Hotch stood up, "Reid, out," he said sternly. "No, Hotch he fucking knows where-" Hotch cut him off, "Out!" He said louder this time. Finally, Spencer listened and left the room. "I got something! Y/n said something about the woods so I looked into him-" Garcia was speaking fast but still Hotch stopped her, "Garcia," he said. "I think I have an address." Garcia said. She then immediately sent the address to the team and they were quick to be on their way.

Spencer was the first to find you, of course he was. He was on a mission and the mission was finding you. "Y/n, y/n, im here," he said, grabbing your face gently and pulling you up to look at him. You groaned in response as JJ undid your cuffs. "Look at me, tell me you hear me, please," Spencer begged. "You're so loud," you muttered, giving him a weak smile as your eyes slowly opened. God, it was good to see his face. "I know, im loud, i talk a lot, I worry, but god, im so happy you're okay," Spencer said, stroking your face. "I wouldn't say I was okay," you spoke so softly spencer could barely even hear you. But for once, he was so happy to hear your sass. "I know, the ambulance is coming. We'll get you checked out and you'll be okay." He said. He was the only thing keeping you from freaking out, from worry about the extensive list of injuries you'd have. It just felt so good to be in his hands again that you didn't care about your pain or injuries.

The ambulance showed up but god you were grateful. You felt so close to passing out and you didn't want to. You wanted to see Spencer, you wanted to remember his face just like he could remember yours. You wanted to memorize him, you wanted to love him. "Hey, it's okay, I'm still here." Spencer said as he held your hand in the ambulance. "Spence?" Your voice was soft and hard to hear through the oxygen mask. You pulled it down with your shaking hand. "Hey, no, no, you need that," Spencer said, trying to put it back but you shook your head. "N-no, im so sorry. Im sorry i talk too much. I'm sorry I did this-" Spencer shook his head, "No, you didn't do this, this wasn't your fault." He said, trying to comfort you. "Yes it was Spence, I talk to much, I made him hurt me because I can't shut up. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll learn, i promise," you began to cry. You tried to be strong but you knew you couldn't. No amount of sass would mask just how hurt you were.

Spencer hated this, no matter how many times he would say it, you would never believe it wasn't your fault. No matter what he would say, you would never be yourself again. You wouldn't be able to be sassy again, you wouldn't be as stubborn as you was. And he'd miss it, he'd miss every second of it. Every second of you talking back to him, every second of you being too stubborn to stay back with Garcia, he'd miss every single second of it and it broke him.

[caesium-55]

—everything is orange. [ ii ]

pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader

summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.

warning/s: graphic description of blood and gore, body insecurity, lando might be a lil ooc

masterlist.

God bless Jinnie Jo and her overly prepared self because you thought you’d die when you got attacked by the damn shellfish allergy in the car on the way to the hotel. It's fortunate that Jinnie happens to carry around your allergy meds. You dry-swallow the tablets without hesitation, uttering your thanks to Jinnie.

“Song Dan-ssi gave me a list of your allergy meds before we left,” Jinnie tells you. Warmth floods your chest. Manager-nim may be in another country but he never fails to take care of you. You're definitely going to buy something for Manager-nim when you return to Seoul. A jacket perhaps?

The first thing you do the moment you enter your hotel room is kick your boots off, take a warm shower, and reunite with the love of your life—the bed. The mattress swallows you whole and you let out a content sigh as you allow your body to sink in it. Not even ten minutes later, you grab your bag, which you have haphazardly thrown on the bed, take out your phone, and open the X app. You type Lando’s name in the search box.

username1: i am disgusted by the people who still support lando norris like yall really support a man who got a girl pregnant and refusing to take responsibility? i just know mclaren is lying when they said he's not the father

username2: justice for the girl that lando norris got pregnant! he should be kicked out of mclaren!

username3: that girl lucky bc her baby daddy is THE lando norris. she should tell us how he fucks in great detail

You cringe. Your fingers tap the three buttons at the upper right corner and without hesitation, pressing report. You continue to scroll down the tweets, reading them one by one as the clock ticks.

username4: what lie will mclaren tell again to protect little lando norris?

Your phone pings. A notification bar appears on the upper portion of your phone screen. You have received a message. You stop reading the tweet and open your messages app.

unknown number: hey

unknown number: this is lando

unknown number: your boyfriend?

unknown number: the fake one

You immediately save his number in your contacts. You name him Lando Norris.

you: hey there

you: do i just call you lando or

lando: you can call me baby

You snigger at his flirting attempt. Ten points for trying, Lando Norris.

you: okay baby

lando: 😳

lando: okay

lando: we agreed on hard launching each other in socmed right?

you: yah

lando: i kinda don't have a picture of you?

lando: pr told me to ask you if you can send me one

lando: i’ll send you one too

you: i have an idea

you: put me on your story

lando: yeah im planning to do exactly that

lando: have you been listening to what we talked about earlier in the meeting?

you: then delete it after a few mins

lando: wait why

you: make it look like you did it on accident

Your first mistake in your first PR relationship with another idol is that you immediately hard-launched each other on Instagram after Dispatch released his pictures kissing a guy in a bar. People got skeptical and most of them called out your relationship as a PR stunt. They called you a cover up, which you were, but they weren't supposed to know that.

You're not going to make the same mistake twice.

lando: and this will work?

you: let's not shake the confidence i have

lando: 😂

you: people are already expecting mclaren to set a pr stunt so you can gain the public’s hearts back

you: u have to make yourself look like you never needed a pr stunt in the first place, that you’re not trying to win the public back

you: people will catch up if you suddenly post that you have a girlfriend in the middle of your hot issue

you: netizens are quickwitted theyre not as dumb as most of us think

You hope you're explaining it well. You're trying to make your point as clear as possible but it's hard. You forgot the other English words you’ve learned.

lando: okay i get ur point

lando: i’ll do what u want

lando: someone has to tell pr what u planned though

lando: it's not going to be me

Fuck the PR. You're not going to tell them and let them have a field day tomorrow. That's what they get for expecting you to sign that stupid first contract they made.

You open your camera app and take a quick selfie.

No. Your nose looks too big at that angle.

Again.

Now, your forehead looks like an airport.

Again.

Your teeth are showing. The coffee stains are visible.

Again.

Again.

Again.

you: *sent a photo*

lando: i

lando: help me with the caption? my braincells flew off

you: idk not good at captions

you: just say hello loml or smth

This is the story you want to tell:

You met Lando a year after you departed from ORACLE in Australia.

You have a mutual friend—named Tori Allen—who introduced you to one another. Tori Allen does not exist. She's just the fictional side character of your love story.

You started out as friends. Lando is freshly out from a breakup and you’re just trying to live a quiet life after your fall from grace.

You talked for months because of your mutual interest in cars. Eventually, you started going on casual dates.

You asked Lando to keep it secret. He said yes in respect to you. HAN Entertainment already released a press statement regarding your mental health status after the 2021 incident so the public would assume that this was the reason why.

The relationship turned serious three months before Lando’s scandal.

Lando never got the girl pregnant. He never touched that girl. He was loyal to you.

Jinnie almost breaks down the door the next morning. You open it before she can do so. She angrily stomps inside your room and you close the door behind her. Her face is red, her expression taut.

“It's seven,” your eyebrows crease together. You make a quick glance at the phone in your hand. 7:22, the clock in your lockscreen projects. “You told me we are supposed to meet at twelve.”

“McLaren PR called me up,” Jinnie informs you. You’re beginning to get an idea where this conversation is going. “You didn't do what we agreed on.”

“And what did we agree on?” you cross your arms over your chest. You flutter your eyelashes innocently at her.

“That you’re going to choose photos to post on each of your accounts and let PR handle the captions. Norris posted something immediately without PR checking it and deleted it!”

“Did he tell you that it was my idea?”

“No, but I know that it was and it turns out I’m right. You just confirmed it.”

“Did it work?” you question.

“I can't with you!” she throws her hands up in the air, frustrated. “We are supposed to follow orders!”

“No,” you say. “You are supposed to follow orders. That's what Yoon PD-nim told you. He told me to do what I believed was best.”

You open X. Lando’s name is at the top of the trending list. You press his name and read through the tweets that appeared.

username5: LANDO NORRIS WHAT IS THIS BEHAVIOR

username6: EVERYONE HERE ARE THE RECEIPTS *screenshot*

username7: is this what you call the freudian slip lol

username8: I AM NOT CRAZY GUYS LANDO ACCIDENTALLY STORIED HIS GF IN HIS PUBLIC ACC

username9: he deleted it so quick too 😭 im sure the man panicked

username10: HE CHEATED ON HIS GF AND GOT A GIRL PREGNANT??!?

username11: for all we know he didn't even bang that girl 🤷 his girlfriend’s pretty hot he’s definitely not cheating on her

username10: men cheat on their pretty wives and girlfriends all the time

username12: not lando norris that man’s in love LOVE can u see his caption

username13: the caption??? lando’s pretty smooth with his words

username14: he’s taking smooth operator lessons from carlos

username15: im crazy but what if this is just a pr stunt 🤔

username16: girl he won't delete the story in a panic if it's a pr stunt

username17: he was definitely going to post it in his priv and made a mistake 😭

username18: very lando of him

username17: he stronger than me bc if my girlfriend was that pretty, her face will be flooding my instagram

username19: ignore lando, his girl tho 😳

username20: he called her loml omgggg

username21: booo luisa’s prettier

username22: fok off and move on

username23: lando can you fight? meet me at the kfc parking lot and let's fight

username24: probably not but he can run you over with his car

username25: i swear ive seen that girl before i just cant pinpoint where

username26: IT'S [NAME] EX MEMBER OF ORACLE WE HAVENT SEEN HER SINCE 2021

username27: so he bagged a kpop girlie??? lando got game dayummm

username28: isn't [name] an illegal street racer? that's why she got kicked out of the group right?

username29: an f1 racer and a street racer couple 😳 omg what in booktok is this

username30: she's not a streetracer she only watched the street race

username28: she told you that herself?

username30: her company did

username31: THEY CANT BE DATING OMG LANDO YOU CAN DO BETTER SHE DOESN'T DESERVE TO BE A WAG

username32: and u think ur better than her?

“It's working,” you state. You turn to Jinnie, raising your phone in the air and waving it. A smug smirk spreads to your lips. “It's working.”

Nobody is doubting the relationship like the time with Minhyung. This is a good start. Now, onto the next part.

“So are we really going to keep having lunch dates until your race?” you poke the shrimp on the plate with your fork. You're having pasta again. In the same place, too. It sucks but you swallow the food and smile as if you’re enjoying the meal.

For today's outfit, Jinnie chose a Valentino Garavani black midi dress paired with Jimmy Choo Antia leather sandals. Lando matched your outfit with a black silk button up and off-white pants. You’re both playing the “looking like a couple” card well.

“I believe so,” Lando says. You mentally count the days of the calendar in your head. The FP1 is scheduled to begin in two days. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask….”

“Hm?”

“The team didn't scold you a lot, did they?”

“They didn’t,” you give him a tight smile. Did he worry? For you? That's very sweet of him. “Why would they? My plan went great.”

Lando nods, “It did. You’re good at this.”

You smile at his compliment, shrugging a shoulder. I’m supposed to be good at this. I have no other choice.

“Let's show them our story,” you say. “Show, not tell. People are more inclined to believe actions rather than words. Show them the story we want them to know and we don't answer their questions early so we can keep the attention and the curiosity on us. Once the timing is right, you answer their questions, one by one. This is risky because if we don't act right, we’re done….”

You set the fork down and finally stop terrorizing the poor shrimp. It's completely obliterated now.

“But I believe we can act right,” honesty bleeds through your words. “You're lovable and you already act like a sweet boyfriend without trying.”

Lando purses his lips and averts his gaze. You see pink dusting his cheeks.

“I try.”

“Nice try,” your words come out dry. You give him a thumbs-up. “Also, I’m full.”

“You only ate half your plate,” Lando points out.

“The portion is too big. I’m a light eater.”

HAN Entertainment is partly to blame for that. You got accustomed to their extreme diets and small meal portions that you cannot even eat more than a small bowl of rice.

“Do you not like the food?” he asks, concerned.

You don’t answer the question. Instead, you lace your fingers together and rest your chin on them, leaning slightly forward.

“I have another plan. Wanna hear it?”

You still don't like having attention to yourself. The feeling of having eyes watching your every move, waiting for you to make a mistake still terrifies you. But attention, the right kind especially, is a weapon. You need a weapon to fight this war. A war to build your career again.

“Keep them on their toes,” the instructor of your PR training class once said. “Give them what they want piece by piece, just enough to keep them wanting more, but never give them everything.”

Until now, you still abide by her teachings. God bless Kim Gaon-ssi and her big brain, wherever she is now. She resigned from HAN entertainment a year ago.

It's been a few days since Lando pulled that stunt in his Instagram story and yet, the attention you're receiving from the fans is not simmering down. You didn't expect anyone to be this involved or curious about a driver's love life but here everyone was.

You wake up at seven and then proceed to spend an hour on your phone while lying in bed to push all the sleepiness away from your system. You leave your bed at nine, change out of your sleeping wear, perform a whole morning ritual inside the bathroom, and by eleven, you send Jinnie a message to get brunch and invite her to eat together inside the privacy of your hotel room. She arrives after fifteen minutes with hotel service food. You eat until twelve thirty and after eating, you begin to get ready.

The free practice session is at 5:30 PM. You can afford a bit more time to get ready so you shower again. It took you nearly two hours. In the meantime, Jinnie prepares your clothes.

You mentally thank the heavens when you see trousers neatly folded on your bed. If Jinnie forces you to wear dresses again, you’re going to lose it. You're conscious of how big your thighs look. You don't even have a thigh gap. Big thighs, small ankles, and muscular calves. They're just a few of your numerous bodily insecurities.

Jinnie pairs the Moon Choi black back pocket trousers with a Dior Toile de Jouy Sauvage silk top. For the shoes, she chooses a pair of white Fila chunky sneakers. She helps you apply your makeup and fix your hair. To finish the look, you grab your black cross body bag, smart watch, sunglasses, and a black ball cap.

Jinnie snatches the ball cap from your hands and replaces it with a McLaren ball cap. A tacky orange with the number four. You raise your brow at her. She gives you a pointed look, a look that says: don’t even try to protest. You sigh, resigned, and pull it onto your head.

She scans your appearance, dragging her coal eyes from the top of your head to your toes. She huffs, satisfied.

“You look perfect.”

Perfect is the goal.

Jinnie drives you to the race venue. She drops you off at the parking lot. She's not happy with it. Jinnie wanted to come. You told her no. You can handle this little act alone. You don’t see an ex-idol with a manager, do you?

The moment you exit the car, you slip on your mask. Figuratively and literally. You tip your ball cap upwards to scan your surroundings, searching for the way in. You carry your phone in your right hand and your paddock pass in the left. Lando gave it to you during dinner yesterday.

A racing event is crowded with people. That's a given. Perhaps not as crowded as a concert but still crowded nonetheless. A stage will not separate you from the people nor a barricade. Unfortunately. You have no bodyguard, no manager, no HAN Entertainment staff.

You're not here as ORACLE’s [Name] but as Lando Norris’ girlfriend.

Your feet lead you to a path where there are less people. You message Lando that you’ve arrived. He replies in a matter of seconds.

lando: ill come and get you

lando: wait for me

You remove your cap, fix your hair, before pulling the cap on. You spot a man with a Nikon DSLR standing a good distance. He is wearing a cord around his neck. The word MEDIA is printed in bold white letters. Your lips curl a little underneath your face mask.

It is show time.

During your trainee years, acting classes are mandatory. You know the basics. You're confident that you're good at acting. If you weren't, the company wouldn't have pushed you to act in two dramas as a side character during your rookie years. You received a reward for your performances, too.

To look lost, you have to keep glancing around you as if you’re contemplating which way to go. You have to look unsure of your actions. Hesitant. You have to constantly look at your phone as if you’re reading directions in it or texting someone to tell you where you should be going. You have to scratch your nape a few times to express nervousness. You're in a place you don’t know, it’s natural to be nervous.

Someone is bound to approach you and help you. When they do, you remove the cap but not the mask and then hope they know who you are. When they don't, well…. that's a problem for future you. You haven't thought that far.

“Hi, excuse me, do you need help?”

You perk up. Orange fills your view. A group of four girls have approached you and they all wear twinning McLaren merch. You can see that three of them sport the number four in their shirts, Lando’s race number. You involuntarily swallow.

There was a case once where a rookie actress got beaten up by her idol boyfriend’s fans promptly after the release of their dating news. Fans can be so jealous to the point of violence. It's a toxic fan culture. That's why so many Kpop idols resort to keeping their relationships private and secret. You hope you won’t get beaten up.

But also, given that they’re McLaren and Lando fans, there is a high possibility that they’ll recognize you. Which is exactly what you wanted. So you push that stupid fear aside and keep the show going.

“Hi, uh,” you remove your cap and lower your face mask until it's bunched up below your nose. “I’m kind of…lost? Do you know the way to the, uh…”

You forget what it's called. McLaren garage? You don't remember the exact word Lando used. You're still not confident that you know the difference between a paddock, a garage, and a livery.

“Wait, I know you!”

You purposely widen your eyes.

“You’re Lando’s girlfriend!”

You smile sheepishly, scratching your cheek with your finger.

The girls break out into loud and high-pitched squeals. Their voices are so shrill that you cannot help but wince. You motion for them to quiet down. Inwardly, you want them to keep being loud. Loud enough to warrant the attention of the photographer, your target.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, we absolutely have to take a selfie!”

You barely understand her rapid spitfire of words until she takes out her phone. Panic instantly swells within you.

This is not the plan. You only wanted one person to take the necessary picture. Not this.

You hastily slap your hand over the lower half of your face. You stagger backwards and stumble against a sturdy wall. Your hands fly out to your sides as you feel yourself lose your balance. Two hands grip your shoulders and you hear a surprised woah! from behind you. You lift your head.

It's not a wall. It's Lando.

His beautiful, beautiful eyes gaze down at you. The colors look lighter under the sun. His thick brows are furrowed together, his forehead creasing.

Lando spins you around so you're face-to-face with his hard chest. You squint at the multiple logos printed on the long-sleeves he’s wearing. Is this what he wears when he races? He swiftly takes the McLaren ball cap off your hand and puts it on your head. His hand remains tenderly flat on your shoulder blade, the other lays on your cheek as if he's trying to cover your face. You tug your face mask up and rub your throat.

“Hi,” Lando greets the girls sweetly. This causes the eruption of another wave of high-pitched squeals. “I’m sorry but do you mind if we keep the cameras away? Our relationship isn't out and as much as possible, we’d like to keep it that way. Can we respect my girl’s privacy please?”

He sounds exactly like a male lead in a romance Kdrama. You know it's fake, that the both of you are playing roles, but his words and the way he delivers them so effortlessly makes you momentarily doubt if he's really acting. It causes a butterfly to flutter in your stomach and your pulse to steadily accelerate. His hands are large and warm and for a moment, it makes you wonder if this is what security feels like. If this is what it feels like to be loved.

Then, you get reminded that it is all an act.

How can actors not fall in love with their co-actors when acting can feel this real at times?

“Thank you,” you hear Lando say. You miss the previous parts of the conversation because of the thoughts that invaded your mind.

“You look so cute together, oh my god. I’m going to die,” the fangirl adds. Lando’s chest vibrates as he chuckles, the sound deep and warm.

“We need to go, sorry. Enjoy the race today.”

He taps his thumb against your shoulder blade and he starts walking, his hands not detaching themselves from your skin. You keep your head low as Lando guides you away. In your peripheral vision, you see the photographer’s camera pointed towards the two of you. A self-satisfied smirk plays on your lips.

“How did I do?” Lando asks the moment he removes his helmet. He is sporting a bright grin, so bright that you're sure it’s going to make the sun envious, as his fingers comb through his damp curly hair. A few stray strands are stuck on his sweaty forehead. You feel the urge to sweep them aside for him.

You search through your mental thesaurus for the synonyms of the word amazing and have chosen: “Impressive.”

Light beads of sweat trickle down his face and neck. A McLaren staff member comes and hands him a towel to wipe them off. Lando thanks her and she leaves. He thrusts the towel towards you. You blink in confusion.

“Will you do the honors?”

“Can't you do it yourself?”

“But you have to play the part of a sweet girlfriend, am I right or am I right?” You roll your eyes at his cheekiness, rising to a stand. You place the McLaren jacket in your hands on your chair. Lando handed it to you before he climbed into the car. You don't know the reason behind his action. Nevertheless, you held the jacket for him.

You take the towel from his hands, your fingers grazing with his. Lando’s smile threatens to split in half as he puts his hands behind his back, parts his legs a little, and then bends down so you won't have a difficult time wiping his sweat for him. You're not that much shorter than him and your height difference is perfectly reasonable and comfortable but you're still grateful that he's doing this for you.

You don't wipe his sweat. Instead, you pat them out. Patting is gentle on skin. The towel will simply absorb the sweat on his skin. Rubbing the skin can lead to skin irritation and inflammation. Lando’s eyes flutter close at your actions and you swear you see him leaning against your hand.

“You raced good today,” you praise him.

You have zero idea on what happened in the past hour. The cars went around in circles. Then, they time their laps. They’re not even racing each other. You thought they would.

In all honesty, you think the entire thing is a bore. The street races you went to when you were a teen were more fun. A minimum of three drivers gets injured every race and it's highly likely someone ends up dead, which is your messed-up definition of the word fun.

You’re more interested in the special guest who decided to grace the track with its great reptile presence. A dinosaur. Kidding, it's just a lizard. It looks like it was surveying the scene and strategizing a great dinosaur invasion.

Lando's chest swells, “Well, I have to impress my girl.”

He opens his eyes and they meet yours. They're twinkling with mirth.

“Color me impressed then.” Despite your words, your tone is unimpressed.

He smiles impossibly wider, now showing his full set of pearly white teeth. He bites his bottom lip. You stop patting his sweat and lower your hand to the side.

“You don't have any more races tonight?” you question. Lando straightens.

“Later at 9 PM.”

“That's quite late.”

“It is?” Lando’s head tilts to the side a little. “Do you sleep early?”

You hardly sleep at all. You have a hard time maintaining regular human sleeping and waking hours. Like the other half of the world population.

“That's not it,” you shake your head. “I kind of just expected that the next practice session would be tomorrow morning.”

“Singapore usually holds night races. Track temperatures are low and the organizers can broadcast the race during peak viewing hours in European time,” Lando explains. “And they hold two practice races a day because it only lasts an hour.”

“That makes sense.”

“Are you hungry?” Lando questions, smoothly redirecting the conversation to food.

“I could eat.” You're not particularly hungry. You're not full either.

“I know a good place that sells these amazing wraps.”

Wraps sound enticing. You can't remember the last time you've eaten one.

“Lead the way.”

You chew on your beef wrap slowly as your eyes focus on the screen of your phone. The voices of the sports announcers live broadcasting the ongoing race fill Lando’s driver room. After buying the wrap, he brought you to his driver room so you can enjoy the privacy as you ate. You appreciate the thoughtfulness. You don't think you can eat outside. So many people can see you.

username33: LOOK AT THESE PHOTOS I AM GOING FERAL

username34: HOLUP LANDO'S GIRL WAS IN THE PADDOCK??? ON THE DAY I DECIDED NOT TO GO?? EVJSNSVSISKS

username35: girlie was hiding 😭 she deliberately went through the back of the paddock so no one can see her going to the garage

username36: my friends and i met her today! she looks like she's lost and as fellow mclaren fans, we went to help her and she was so sweet omg and so so shy too. we tried to take a pic with her but lando arrived and told us to respect his girl’s space

username36: and i quote “do you mind if we keep the cameras away? our relationship isn't out and we’d like to keep it that way. can we respect my girl’s privacy please” WHEN I TELL YOU I MELTED ON THE SPOT

username37: girl he really said that???

username38: i’m her friend and yes he really said that 😭

username39: little lando norris is not so little anymore

username37: pls tell me you backed off immediately

username38: we did!! we kinda feel bad now that we discovered she's been battling anxiety since 2021 and that she doesn't like having photos of her taken

username40: NO BECAUSE THE WAY LANDO IS SO PROTECTIVE OF HER?? THE WAY HE SPUN HER AROUND AND PULLED HER TO HIS CHEST?? THE PROTECTIVE HAND ON HER BACK?? HIM COVERING HER FACE?? WE ALL KNOW [NAME] HASN'T BEEN IN THE PUBLIC EYE SINCE 2021 BC OF MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES AFTER HER SCANDAL AND LANDO REALLY TRIED TO PROTECT HER

username41: bae i think you forgot that he's also the reason why [name] is gaining attention again bc he accidentally storied her in his insta

username40: that's why i said tried bestie

username42: i cant believe im crying over this LANDO NORRIS U BETTER TREAT OUR GIRL [NAME] RIGHT

username43: im waiting for @hanentertainmentofficial to say smth

username44: girlie’s career flopped and now she's leeching off lando’s money smh 🙄

username45: bestie she never needed his money she’s already rich from being an idol

username44: correction ex kpop idol, her money’s probably already running out

username45: bestie she's still richer than you while you're 14 (your bio says your 14) and still living with your parents

username46: AND THAT'S VERY SLAY OF HER,, YOU CAN'T EVEN GET A RICH MAN TO LOOK AT YOU

username47: that girl who claimed that lando is her baby daddy is suspiciously quiet rn

You turn your phone off and toss it inside your cross body bag. A sigh flies past your lips as you lean against the back of the couch, setting your unfinished wrap down. Your eyes flutter close. They're beginning to sting. Too much reading.

Sleep latches its claws on you and you allow it to take you.

You stand in darkness, allowing the deafening silence to swallow you whole. Suddenly, a thousand eyes appear. Unblinking. Bloodshot. They're bulging out of their sockets. In unison, the eyeballs move and lock on your figure. Judging. Judging. Judging. Your body trembles at the weight of a thousand gazes. You can’t breathe. You can't speak.

Please stop looking at me.

Please.

I’m begging you.

Stop.

The eyes slowly became bigger and bigger. Then, they disappear. You let out a shaky exhale. You turn around and the world becomes a blinding white.

Cameras. Thousands. No, millions of them. The loud clicking noise fills your ears. Your hands stretch in front of you, trying to cover your face and your body from them. You can only squeeze your eyes shut.

Silence.

The scene changes.

You register the feeling of sand getting stuck in between your toes. Your eyes slowly flutter open. The overcast skyline and the rising tides, the telltale ingredients of a brewing storm over the horizon, can be spectated from the shore. You recognize this place. This was a place you swore you're never going to step foot again.

Jeju.

You hear your mother’s gentle voice whisper your name behind you, causing goosebumps rise on your skin and your entire body to stiffen. It's not the name you own now, but the name you were born with, the name she gave you, the name you lost when you moved to Seoul.

She calls your name again. Again. Again. And again. You ignore every single one.

She stops.

You slowly turn around and you see your mother standing there, a few steps away, barefoot like you and wearing a dress. You remember this dress. She wore it when she was pregnant with you. She keeps the photo in her wallet.

No Eun Ha looks as beautiful as she was in your childhood memories. You greatly resemble her. The eyes most especially. That's why looking at mirrors feels more like a punishment to you more than anything else.

The word “Eomma” rots inside your mouth.

Your Eomma smiles at you. It's empty, her smile. When she smiles, they never reach her eyes. That's the way it has always been. For a second, you consider apologizing.

Eomma, I’m sorry that you have to raise a child you didn’t want. I’m sorry for stealing the light in your eyes.

You don't grow the courage to say it out loud.

No Eun Ha remains smiling. You notice that the edges of her lips curl higher and higher until the smile begins to look unsettling and sinister. Then you see the skin on her cheek tear apart as her smile grows and grows. Blood drips down slowly to her neck and stains the top part of her dress. She opens her mouth into an inhumane size and you see a thousand razor-sharp teeth lining up inside it. Everything is a gory red.

You scream in absolute terror.

She says your name again, her voice this time is not as gentle as you remember.

You wake up screaming and in cold sweat. You fall from your bed and onto the floor on all fours and begin vomiting your guts out. Nothing comes up. Only saliva. You break into pathetic sobs on the floor. Terror is a familiar feeling but you will never ever get used to it.

You don't know how many hours have passed. The floor used to feel cool against your skin but now, it's never been warmer. You still don't possess the strength to leave the floor. Your body feels as if it's being anchored down giant stones.

You're exhausted. You’ve done nothing but you feel exhausted.

You want to run.

You want to run away from this pain and exhaustion.

You need a life where you're no longer exhausted.

Desperately.

A sudden shriek interrupts the silence that wraps the air. A woman's. You don't even flinch. You know it’s just Jinnie. She's the only one who has access to another keycard of your hotel room.

When Lando’s panicking face comes into view, you are shocked. So shocked that you involuntarily raise your arms and accidentally hit him below his jaw. He stumbles backwards, not expecting the blow. He let out a pained groan, hand clutching the area you hit. You quickly rise to your feet, a thousand apologies already on the tip of your tongue. This action, however, triggers a wave of vertigo. Your vision blackens temporarily, your knees giving out at your own weight. Reflexively, you grab hold of the nearest thing beside you, the mattress to soften your fall, before your shaking knees meet the floor.

“[Name]!” Lando’s voice is so loud, you flinch.

When your vision returns, his face is the first thing you see.

“Good morning,” your voice is flat and rough.

Lando hisses and his large hands cradle your cheeks. You're suddenly made aware of how large his hands are. They can cover your entire face with how big they are.

“You're pale,” his voice wobbles. “Shit.”

You want to pass out again. His hands feel so, so comfortable and so, so warm that you want to sleep with this feeling.

“Hey, hey, don't close your eyes. [Name]—” Lando hands move swiftly. One second he’s holding your face. The next second he’s lifting you up in his arms. “Jinnie, call an ambulance!”

The word “ambulance” causes you to wake up. Like really wake up.

Oh, shit.

You struggle in Lando’s arms, “Andwae! No ambulance!”

You pry yourself away from Lando, hopping down to the floor, but the man doesn't retract his hands completely. He still holds onto your forearms to support you as you try to stand.

“No. Just no. I’m fine.”

“[Name]!” Jinnie scolds. She's finally functioning again. She froze in shock when she saw you earlier.

“I’m fine!” you shout. “I’m fine! Really!”

When you get caught that you're weak, you retaliate.

You grit your teeth and clench your jaw.

“I’m. Fine.”

They don’t believe you. You can see it in their eyes. However, they're not going to argue with you. You know they won't.

“I’m going to shower,” you announce. Lando’s grip on your forearm tightens just as you pivot your heels to head to the bathroom.

“I think it's best if you stay today.”

“We all agreed that I’m going to be in the paddock from the practice sessions until the race night.”

“I’ll tell the PR team that you won't go today.”

Your brows furrow.

“Just… Rest for today, okay?”

You turn quiet. Hesitantly, you nod.

“Thanks.”

He turns to Jinnie and tells her, “Take care of her for me. I’ll visit after the qualifying.”

And like that, Lando Norris leaves the hotel room.

[londonfog-chan]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Rite Here, Rite Now Part 1

This two shot fic is dedicated to that poor soul on TikTok getting shitty comments about a headcanon of Eddie liking Ghost. Fandom has become so damn toxic bro. Who cares about what an imaginary character likes or dislikes?? We are cringe, we are legion. We make out of pocket headcanons sometimes. Like come on, Eddie might “theoretically” dislike Mary On A Cross specifically for various reasons, but I could see him having some favorites. You can’t say he would entirely hate Ghost when fucking Year Zero and Mummy Dust exist. Or the whole of Prequelle as an album. I had to laugh at one person saying he liked Avenged Sevenfold (it didn’t exist in the 80’s and neither did Ghost like we are literally arguing about shit he wouldn’t have known about be so serious rn). But I digress. I’ve even gotten a couple hateful comments on a fun little TikTok I made and I honestly have just been deleting them and blocking. Don’t even want to deal with people’s bullshit anymore. Please enjoy this spite fic and continue writing and having fun babes. Go against the flow and make Eddie proud.

Part 1 (You are Here), Part 2

***

Every member of Corroded Coffin could tell when you arrived to a function. Eddie knew the sound of your car like a cat that knows when its owner is home, and he’d be waiting outside the school to greet you first. That and the car make and model. Someone always called it if not Eddie. He’d been off his game today though, definitely the excited nerves. Jeff called out your 1979 Volkswagen Beetle heading up the driveway by slugging Eddie hard on the bicep, Gareth and Dougie immediately following up with calling “no tag backs” as they rushed to hit each other and Eddie like a bunch of middle schoolers. Eddie almost got nailed by Dougie’s beefy fist until he nimbly dodged out of the way, cradling his prized Warlock like it was a newborn.

“God dammit, easy asshole!” Eddie laughed. “Don’t be hitting my baby! I need her intact if I’m going to impress our songstress.”

“Trust me Ed, she doesn’t need more impressing. You had her in a tizzy when you asked her to write a song for you. I wonder what she came up with.” Gareth said, leaning forward so his hands were settled on both his high and medium toms, he was watching your approach intently with a gleam in his eye. “She didn’t even make it to campaign on Friday. Must have really been in the zone.”

You parked the car against the side of the driveway, emerging looking as though you’d just swallowed a whole mouthful of cry baby sour gum. Your lips were pressed tightly together, clutching your fat Trapper Keeper to your chest as you approached the group.

“Hey sweetheart!” Eddie called, waving you over enthusiastically. “You okay?”

“Eddie… God it’s so bad… It’s worse than I thought.” You said, grimacing.

God you looked delicious. He couldn’t help himself but to stare and smile like a dope. With each step your flowing gray skirt swished enticingly side to side, and with a bit of pride Eddie noticed you were wearing the Twisted Sister shirt he’d distressed for you, looking like an adorable snack of a metalhead with your black clothes, black opaque tights and dirty Chucks.

Eddie’s smile faltered only slightly when he heard your self depreciation.

“Oh come on, can’t be that bad. Not with those grades you’ve got in English. Let me see…”

“Fuck no! No seriously… it’s worse than you think.” You insisted, shaking your head and pulling away from his outstretched hand, “It’s so… God dammit! What the hell was I thinking…?”

Gareth, Jeff and Dougie left their instruments to approach you, Eddie putting both hands on your shoulders to comfort you.

“Hey, hey… come on, don’t be like that.” He said, smile gone and a more serious look on his face. “I get it, I really do. It comes with the territory of writing your own songs. Trust me, I’ve done it for years. You won’t pick it up overnight, and whatever you think is weak we can work on it together. I’m a DM honey, I can have my pen out faster than you can blink and help redraft as many times as it takes.”

“Oh… god dammit… okay, fine…”

You reluctantly handed Eddie the trapper keeper, the velcro making a harsh rip as he pulled it open to the first page where your lyrics neatly sat waiting for him to peruse. Eddie’s eyebrow raised when he saw the title, “Square Hammer”, outlined in red ink.

“ ‘Square Hammer’? … Huh… I like it, that’s good.” Eddie nodded, and continued to read on.

The lyrics were certainly unique to say the least. It was obvious you’d tried to go with a theme based on the prompt he’d given you: something that oozes the brooding dark metal he envisioned Corroded Coffin would croon to thousands of fans. You certainly had an affinity for the macabre, and he knew he could trust you with everything he wanted in his vision. Then again you could have written the cheesiest, poppy trash in the world and he would have loved it. He was extremely biased, far too sweet on you for his own good. But these weren’t bad at all. The lyrics reminded him of old Hollywood vampire movies, echoing the work of Doctor Faustus with the thematic element in the song. The voice of the lyrics seemed to be coming from an otherworldly entity, one summoned to offer power and prestige to the listener.

And Eddie was obsessed with every word the further he read on.

“Woah, woah…”

His eyes widened with every sentence he read.

“Holy shit…”

Powers clandestine, solving a crooked rhyme… Every line, no matter how simple, packed a lot when combined in the collective.

Eddie finally looked up at you, completely bewildered.

“You wrote this by yourself?!” He croaked.

You were embarrassed to hell, curling in on yourself and looking like you wanted to die.

“Ye… yeah… I… When you asked me to write for you, I got really stuck on what I wanted to do. But I remember you mentioned Black Sabbath was one of your first covers, and then I couldn’t get the image of the coffin out of my head because, you know, “Corroded Coffin”… and then we were reading Faustus in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class and I thought since you asked me to do you this favor and Faustus is all about favors…-“

You were rambling. Not even paying attention to Eddie’s continually growing grin. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet the longer you ranted on, until his untamable outburst silenced you.

“THIS IS AMAZING!” Eddie was screaming, scaring the shit out of everyone. “Holy fuck sweetheart! Are you bullshitting me?! This is… fuck! We’ve been stressing for new material for next month’s gig at The Hideout and you just gave it to us on a silver platter?! Jesus H.!”

“Bwha-?!”

“Check this out…!” Eddie turned away to show his friends while you quietly protested, unable to speak as he passed the paper around. The guys crowded around, each one shouting out when they saw a favorite part, “hammering the nails into the sacred coffin” quickly became a favorite, because they immediately began trying to work out how they could fit the lyrics to sound.

“All we gotta do is work out a melody and we’re in business baby!” Eddie said. “This is bitchin’!”

“But it doesn’t even make any sense!” You argued. “Like seriously? The entrance to the shrine part does not fucking fit, I only wrote it because I couldn’t come up with a better rhyme with clandestine!”

“Who cares?” Eddie cried. “It’s badass as hell! The imagery is absolutely savage… ‘Hiding from the night, sacrificing nothing’, and don’t let me forget about the little tongue in cheek line you added about hammering nails into a sacred coffin!”

“It’s fucking great!” Echoed Jeff.

“You should be proud. You managed to take our style and give it a unique spin, that’s not something anyone can do.” Eddie praised. “God dammit… I’d have been a millionaire by now if I could write like this.”

“You… you really liked those parts?” You asked cautiously.

“Of course I did sweetheart! This is real metal shit right here. And the part with the ‘crooked rhyme’? That really captured the creep factor I was looking for. Shit… what’s more metal than summoning a demon for a deal? That’s exactly what Corroded Coffin needs in its material. I love this little brain of yours!”

“Don’t forget Ed!” Dougie cut in. “ ‘Are you ready to swear right here right now before the devil’?!”

“Bitchin’! Keep this up, and I’m gonna wanna make you write all of Corroded Coffin’s songs from now on!” Eddie beamed happily.

“We gotta get the melody worked out!” Jeff said, “Any ideas? I could come up with a few…”

The boys began gabbing together, Eddie unable to help himself as he began to strum his precious 1984 BC Warlock, his black beauty. Without a doubt he could already envision how he could make his baby purr for you, impress you, take you out finally.

And then you changed his world forever.

“… I had an idea for a melody already…” you said quietly.

All eyes turned to you. The guys were thunderstruck.

“Seriously?! Lyrics and a melody?! You’re spoiling the shit out of me sweetheart! Jeff, let her borrow your…-“

“No… no I… I don’t know how to play guitar…” you said, cutting off Eddie sheepishly, “But I… I brought my Casio with me…”

“Where is it?!”

“In the trunk of my bug…”

“Well go get it! Show me whatcha got sweetheart!”

Eddie followed you to the front of the Volkswagen. Everyone always thought the front trunk was the coolest shit ever and he was no exception. The cool car only added to the many things he liked about you. You took out the obnoxiously large keyboard and the stand, fumbling to close the trunk until Eddie stepped in with an “easy… I got it”, slamming the trunk shut and helping you lift the Casio like a gentleman. You were shaking, vibrating with embarrassment so hard that Eddie had to help you plug everything in and adjust the sound, hovering and reaching over you on purpose hoping you’d notice and feel his burn for you.

“Alright sweetheart? Show us what you’ve got.”

You turned on the Casio and fingered the keys gently, warming up with a few chords as you tried to soothe the shaking in your fingers. Fiddling with the settings, you stalled as long as you could while the boys waited patiently. Once you found the setting you wanted, you went for it.

It was like a demon had possessed your body. The melody was quick, but it packed a hell of a punch. It was in the key of D minor, and you had ironically chosen what sounded like a combination of 1960’s psychedelic sticky rhodes and Transylvanian organ to achieve the effect you wanted. The sound overall was eerie, yet enchantingly fun all at the same time. And your singing! You were singing softly under your breath, rocking yourself to the melody on the tips of your worn out sneakers, and you had quite the set of pipes! Despite your shot nerves, you’d clearly come up with something truly special that no one else in the entire world could have conceived of.

It wasn’t the traditional metal Eddie had in mind, more avant-garde, theatrical even. Whereas he had expected a sound more like Black Sabbath, you played something not out of place at a theater performance of Dracula. But this sound… there was something that nagged him about it. It was a sound that Eddie could imagine playing to arenas of screaming, adoring fans.

“Gentlemen… that’s our fucking song!” Eddie cried, “That’s our song, it’s a goddamned masterpiece!”

The Casio halted, and your mouth was hanging open mid play.

“What?! How-…” you began.

“I can already hear the riff, Ed what do you think of following with standard tuning instead of going to D minor?” Jeff picked up his Gibson and began to play, mimicking what he heard on your Casio by ear. “If you move it, the sound is way off from what I’m envisioning. But if you keep it at standard you leave it easier on the fingers with the couple of open notes when you start stretching.”

“Yeah, yeah! If you tune it down it’s going to sound off with her playing when you hit the chords.” Eddie agreed, immediately looking back at you. “Play it one more time sweetheart?”

You cautiously complied, going through the melody one more time as Jeff began to follow with you. Eddie was completely absorbed in your music, listening to both you and Jeff play and following along quietly. The warlock in his hands eventually couldn’t be helped, humming to life when he started playing a chord at a time by ear. As he played, he kept you repeating the melody over and over, both Eddie and Jeff deep in concentration on the sound. It was getting almost exhausting trying to continually repeat the sound until they got it right.

“D minor.” Eddie said, playing a note.

“Then she does B flat there.” Jeff played.

“A minor.” They said in unison.

“C. And that’s what I’m thinking your rhythm guitar can do, meanwhile, I’ll keep the root of the chords for the riff so I can follow her keys.” Eddie said, and he began to perfectly copy your melody. “Okay sweetheart, just one more time… and then let’s bring everything together.”

[scorpiussage]

Tommy Shelby + Airdrop Nudes

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none, swearing

For anon

It’s definitely an accident, your cherry red face and that you’re a total stranger tells him that, but he’s never seen pictures so hot.

In one you’re dressed in lacy red lingerie that cinches in your waist and pushes your breasts up. That one, in his opinion, is almost more obscene than the fully nude ones.

His pants tighten uncomfortably and his eyes track up to you, the only person in this cafe that shares the face of the sexy goddess in the photos. Except you are hastily gathering up your things, fully abandoning your coffee and bagel to make a dead sprint exit out the door. You knock over some poor man who was trying to enter the establishment and you’re so desperate to get away that you don’t even stop to apologize.

Tommy is fast to follow, not even realizing how it might look that he’s chasing after you, after you accidentally air dropped him your nudes. He catches up to you as you’re stopped at the crosswalk, your escape hindered by the quick moving traffic in the street.

You jump nearly a foot in the air when his long fingers wrap around your upper arm. You’re moving before you even really realize it and whacking him upside the head with your purse while screeching, “Fuck off perv!”

He curses colorfully and stops your hand before you can hit him again, “Wait!”

There you are in a standoff, him holding both your arms and looking down at you with wide, too-blue eyes.

You gape at him stupidly, still cringing visibly from your mistake in the cafe and now from this scene on the sidewalk.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” the man tells you, his voice husky and the spice of his cologne intoxicating. You feel even worse about what’s happened, oh god he probably wants to make fun of you. And with how hot he is, he’d be totally justified, you think.

“Just get on with it,” you practically sob. You just hope he has a heart enough to not post them all online.

Once he’s certain you’re not going anywhere, he gently drops your arms and tucks his hands into his pockets in a terribly masculine display.

“I— uh, really liked those pictures,” he says, his own face flushing a bit but his eyes never straying from yours. They’re almost hypnotizing with how heated they are, “I just wanted to introduce myself.”

He tugs his hand out of his pocket and sticks it out towards you, “I’m Tommy.”

You tentatively take it, shaking it with visible confusion. You introduce yourself in return.

“Please don’t post those pictures online,” you beg, already imagining the horror of having to explain everything to your family, “I’ll do anything.”

His eyebrow cocks at that and then he’s pulling out his phone. He pulls up his pictures app and selects all your racy pics and then deletes them. You stare slack jawed at him, he actually deleted random free nudes like it was nothing.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner with me,” he tells you after putting his phone away, “And you don’t have to bargain with airdropped nudes or anything.”

His chuckles are warm and surprisingly kind. You had been so prepared to be humiliated by this handsome stranger, but he was proving all your preconceived notions wrong.

“Yeah, okay,” you agree and you actually mean it. You want to go out with him.

…

Check out other bingo prompts here!

[innitmarvellous]

Like last year I tried to compile a rather sad little list of positive (and positive-ish) things and accomplishments of 2024. There really isn't much I could come up with, but better than nothing, I guess? Dunno if it's too early for it, but I can still add to this post if I can think of something else.

- I randomly decided that I wanted to learn to play an instrument & that's why I started with electric guitar in February and added electic bass in Autumn. I'm not particularly good at either of them which often frustrates me a lot, but I still don't regret trying it. Well, not much. I just hate having to deal with expectations aka "oh, so you want to play in a band?". No, I don't, because I started way too late for that and no band needs a shitty guitarist/bassist, lmao. (Oh, and I'm already planning to try and learn the violin next. I'm even worse at that, so there's a lot of fun to be had, except for the people who have to listen to my playing :D)

- I also learned how to crochet, after huge initial frustration. That's a new skill acquired, I guess? I did a lot of crochet stuff over the year, but unfortunately it doesn't feel that fulfilling because I'm not that good and also don't know anyone to gift the finished stuff too. The scarves and shawls are piling up in my wardrobe and it's so frustrating, lol. But at least I could make myself very ugly little HIGNFY and Beatles dolls :3

- I wrote more unsexy porn fics, which might not be good for the readers, but is kind of good for me as it doesn't feel very cringe anymore. Now I only need to find a way to make them at least a little sexy!

- I didn't have one of these massive self-hate attacks for a silly small reason, which was good. Well, I had several small moments, but I hated the big ones way more...

- I at least tried to accept some things about me, like being possibly asexual and getting over the fact that I hate my name. Unfortunately I only tried without much success, but the attempt has to count for something. Since I don't want to accept that I might be aspec I'm just thinking of myself as queer now to avoid having to think about it any further - which is also rather practical for gender reasons since I've got no idea about that either :/ (Although using it still makes me feel like an intruder into queer communities, but the term is useful for me...so a big sorry to anyone who's truly queer. Hope that's a forgivable sin.) And I'm trying to come up with an alternative name I can address myself with in my thoughts, lol.

- I tried to work on my self-acceptance. Again: I tried. Some things happened that made me doubt myself again when I thought I had made some progress, so I'm not really sure about how successful I was. I wish I would just figure out whether I deserve to feel better about myself, that would be a nice start. xD

- I decided to develop a taste of my own. Sounds weird and is something I should have done long ago since I'm fucking old, but...I often watched a show or read a book I didn't like simply because of things like: 'but a comedian I like said that's his favourite book!'. Well, and now I'm trying to tell myself: if our tastes align on something, very good. But if not, whatever.

- I'm still rather insane about HIGNFY and religiously watch at least one episode a day. Also, I had two nice and very long conversations with other fans on AO3 and these honestly gave me such a good time. Too bad they didn't last even longer, but the other people probably moved on to new fandoms and even so, I had a blast. (And of course I'm also still weird about Paul. If anything I got weirder about him. Just look at my fics in case I still haven't deleted them yet! Actually, no, please don't look, but you get what I mean.)

- Not an accomplishment, but I'm kind of happy that I got interested in The Beatles at the end of last year. I read so many books and stuff about them in 2024 and wrote fics and listened to the music (of course) and that usually was a source of happiness, so yeah. That was good :D

[illfoandillfie]

Thanks for the request! I think I’ve figured out why tumblr isn’t letting me post these things as actual replies to the asks. Apparently, from what I’ve been able to find out, ask responses have a character limit of a little over 4000. But I’m using a lot fuckin more than that to write a 1000 word blurb, so it keeps giving me error messages. I’m making this post in the legacy editor because I think it works better but you have to use the new editor when replying to asks and its a whole fuckin thing. It’s 1am rn but in the morning I might investigate xkit or something to see if theres an easier fix. If anyone knows anything please tell me lmao.

ANYWAY back to the smut. I had totally forgotten about the original blurb so if you need a refresher you can find it here. This one picks up right after the spanking is finished.

Warnings: references to spanking and public humiliation, degradation (whore/slut), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, fingering, p in v sex, references to oral sex (f receiving) and recording. i think thats it but its 1am so let me know if i missed something big

When you left the studio it was with teary eyes and a stinging bum. You kept your head down as you headed for the door, not wanting to meet anyone’s eye. Flirting with Roger had been fun, teasing him with your short skirt had been fun, and wearing no knickers just in case he wanted something to happen had definitely been fun. But you realised now you hadn’t quite known what you were getting yourself into. Had the spanking happened under different circumstances you were sure you’d have been nothing but pleased. But Roger had chosen to bend you over his knee in front of a room full of men – his bandmates and audio technicians who worked at the studio. It had been humiliating knowing they were silently watching it happen, listening to each crack of Roger’s palm against your arse. And, the worst part was how horny it had left you. You’d been aroused before the spanking but now you were wet. Pulling the door closed, you took a moment to lean against it, hoping to get your breathing under control and calm down.   “Rog, what the fuck?” Someone’s muffled voice asked, though it was difficult to know exactly who. “I can’t believe you just did that to her.” “What? She’s been throwing herself at me all day.” That last one had been Roger and he seemed completely indifferent to your humiliation. You couldn't bear to hear anything else and absolutely didn’t want to be around the next time one of them came looking for assistance. So you fled to the ladies room.

It was quiet in the bathroom. You washed your face and used the mirror to examine the red patches Roger had left on your arse cheeks. Try as you might, you couldn’t help thinking about the incident. In the moment you’d barely thought of the audience you had, only noticing once the hits had stopped and you’d stood up and seen them all frozen in place. And even then it had taken you a few seconds to realise what it meant. In the immediate aftermath your mind had been completely occupied with thoughts of fucking Roger, of how insanely horny you were. You shook your head, cringing away from your reflection as you replayed the whole thing in your mind again. Needing to sit down to try and process the whole thing, you shut yourself in one of the stalls and sat on the closed toilet lid, pressing your palms to your eyes like you could delete the afternoon from your memory.   Suddenly the door to the bathroom squeaked. Maybe you could sneak out of the building and just go home, call in sick for a few days.   “Y/N?” a familiar voice called. You breathed in sharply and then cursed yourself when you watched the person’s feet move across the bathroom and stop outside your stall. “Are you okay?” Roger asked. Since he knew you were there, you decided it’d be best to face him straight away rather than waiting him out. With a deep breath for courage you opened the door and walked to the sink, refusing to look at him. “Well Roger, you just spanked me in front of a bunch of people, some of whom I will have to work with after your band leaves. So no, not really.”   Roger had the decency to look a bit sheepish but you were too busy trying to explain how horrible it had been to let him get a word in. “You humiliated me. I had no idea that was what you intended and I wasn’t expecting it to happen in the studio and then after the punishment you didn’t even try to touch me let alone get me off.” Roger’s rapidly appearing smirk made you stop and realise what you’d just said.   “No, oh my god, no that’s not what I meant to say.” “I knew you enjoyed the spanking.” “Shut up, no. That’s not-” “Well love,” Roger said still smirking, “I didn’t cum either and I would have followed you sooner if I’d been able to stand up, but it took me a few minutes to calm the old fella down. Even just thinking about all your adorable little whimpers and squeals now has got me stiff as a rock. So I think theres a way to solve both our problems.” You hesitated, once again taken off guard by Roger, and unsure what to do. He deserved to be turned down, at least until he’d apologised properly. And yet, you were tempted to agree with his idea.   Sensing your indecision, Roger said, “No audience this time, no punishment. If anything, this is a reward for taking a spanking so well. You deserve to cum. You deserve my cock.” It was infuriating how cocky he was and yet you began talking yourself into it, excited to have the chance to actually fuck him.  Roger was hot and the spanking had been hot and if he was half as good as he obviously thought he was then you wanted to experience it. “Okay.” “Good girl,” he half growled, turning you around and pressing on your back to make you bend over, “would have been a waste not to fuck you after you went to all the trouble of not wearing panties. Now let’s have a look at you.” You whimpered as he pushed your skirt up, examining the results of your punishment.   He let out a hum as he ran his hands softly over the skin, “Faded a little but it looks very good on you. If my cock wasn’t about to break through my jeans I’d give you a few more just to see how you handle it.” But, no matter how mean he sounded, Roger’s touch was nothing but nice. He delicately traced around the hardest hit parts, which still smarted, and then trailed his hands down to your pussy lips.   You panted, the arousal you’d felt from being bent over his knee immediately rekindled.   “You really are a whore,” he growled, fingers becoming more insistent as they worked into your hole, “Can feel how much you’re enjoying this already.” You just nodded at him through the mirror, trying to retain some dignity by not outright begging for more.   Roger’s attention was mostly focused on watching his fingers disappearing into your cunt, monitoring how easily you were accepting new ones, how frequently you clenched with the need for more.   “Think you’re ready for my cock now.” He suddenly announced, unbuckling his belt.   “I am, Roger,” you whined as you lost his touch, pushing yourself back to try and hurry him. Roger just laughed at your eagerness as he pushed his pants down and took his cock in hand.   “No condoms, sorry. But I’ll pull out and cum on your arse, promise.” “Okay,” you nodded, sure his naked cock would feel so much better than a condom. He notched his tip at your entrance, “Just tell me when you’re close to I can be ready, okay?” “Okay, okay, just put it in already.” You caught his smirk in the mirror again but quickly lost it as he sheathed himself in your heat, pushing deeper than you’d expected on the first thrust. Your arms shook and you lowered yourself to rest on your forarms, moaning as he worked himself into you.  

Roger’s pace quickened immediately, each thrust coming quicker than the one before. His hands gripped you tight, one alternating between toying with your sore arse and your clit, the other pressing down on your back to keep you angled the way he wanted. You didn’t try to fight him either. The angle was working just as well for you, making you gasp and moan as he rubbed against some truly delicious spots. And whenever he decided he’d been quiet for too long, Roger was sure to come out with something new to say, calling you degrading names and talking about how good you felt for him. Before long the combination of your humiliating arousal from being spanked, his grade A dirty talk, and the physical sensations of being fucked so well, had your body tightening on the verge of orgasm. “C-Close,” you managed to gasp, the familiar sensation of nearing release sitting in the pit of your stomach.   And then suddenly Roger stopped. You whined desperately and tried your best to fuck yourself backwards onto his cock but he wouldn’t let you move, pinning you to the benchtop instead. “Please, you promised.” “Oh don’t worry, I’ll let you cum. Twice even, since you obviously love my cock so much. I just have one request.” Letting your head drop to your arms you asked him what he meant.   “Stay late with me tonight.” “What? Late? Why?” “I might have incidentally got your spanking on tape earlier and I’d like to have a matching recording of your pathetic, desperate moans.” “Roger!” you felt flustered again and couldn’t quiet meet his grinning reflections eye.   “I swear I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realise they’d started recording. But listening to you be a filthy slut while I eat you out or full your needy cunt would be much easier to get off to.” You hid your head in your arms again but Roger forced you to look up. “No one else heard the first recording and no one else would hear this one. Just me. So I can think of you while I wank.” You tried to squirm again but he grabbed your hips to still you and you broke, “Okay, anything you want Roger, please just let me cum.” “That’s my good cock whore.” he cooed, pulling out and ramming back into you as his fingers found your clit once more, “two orgasms now, like I said.” You just nodded as your denied orgasm picked up again, rapidly building to a strong climax. But even after you came Roger didn’t stop, relentlessly rubbing your clit and pounding into your cunt, rushing you into a second orgasm.” You were nearly sobbing as Roger pulled out entirely and stroked himself off onto your arse. And you were still leaning against the bench, dazed and satisfied, as he did his pants back up and moved to the bathroom door.   “I’ll see you tonight.”  

[queer-otherkin]

Hey!! Just a reminder:

You and me can actually be putting ourselves in danger by having Tumblr accounts.

(a post about internet safety) <pls reblog!!/nf>

Idk about y'all but I'm actually FUCKED if my classmates find this account. The only reason that they don't bully me in an obvious/reportable way is because I fucking tell the teachers.

But guess what, if they find out I'm non human,an age regressor, bi, trans, have bpd, am self diagnosed with autism, etc;

I'm absolutely damned.

I won't be able to tell anyone, bc guess what? The adults in my life are in general prejudiced, even about things that are more normalized. Like being trans. If I can't tell them about being trans (for example) who will I call for help about being non human? No one. I will lose my remaining friends and all the little respect I have left. I can lose everything and my life will become hell.

These kinds of things spread and even if I can convince my parents to change schools (without revealing the problem), people might know!!

I'm not saying this to scare people, I'm just saying:

Be careful!

... Because you never know, some people are just evil, and will go through these communities/tags just to be a bully about it. Y'know, those people who make cringe compilations, raid discord servers, or just hate on our communities in general. This is the internet, and no matter how safe you think you are, you really aren't.

So don't post your face uncensored, location/address, real name, etc.

You can absolutely ignore this, I myself have not respected these "rules" in the past.

And just so you know:

I'm not asking you to delete your account, I'd be a hypocrite.

I'm just asking you to be careful. To be safe.

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

heyy <3

can i get some writing tips??

like how to describe something without seeming too much?

oh and how tf do i write smut 😭 i always cringe and end up deleting it

thank you 💙🤍

p.s. have a lovely dayyy

Okay look i usually never answer these asks with any real advice because i just don't think i am qualified to teach anybody how to write. I'm so sleepy and tired rn so obviously I'm going to give you advice. I will tell you what i try to bear in mind while i write which is never haha. Please don't read this more than once:

When describing:

People:

Don't describe clothes/outfits in intricate detail unless the details matter/contribute to the story/plot. Or if the clothes themselves help describe something else (eg. Her blue shirt made hear eyes appear bluer than ever.)

While we're on a person's appearance, try to describe a character in a way that tells us more than just about what you're describing (eg. His sweet smile was directly at odds with the malevolence his eyes always gleamed with.) Two birds, one stone.

Please refrain from having character stand before a mirror and describe themselves in painful detail to the reader. Just please no. (Case in point: nicely separated breasts. iykyk)

Describe a person's nature/character using their actions. Actions similar in style/motive etc will go on to form the character's tendencies. This is how the reader can then go "ah shit, he's about to fuck around and find out isn't he thE IDIOT NOOO I KNEW IT!!!". Additionally, this can also be a way to surprise the reader "great she's gonna work late AGAIN and miss the— SHE JUST BROKE HER BOSS' FACE?!?!!?AHSHSJSJHSHS"

Setting:

Describe what is pertinent to the scene you're writing. If you describe one particular thing in rich detail, it's gotta play an important role at some point.

The curtains don't have to be blue if the character is sad. They can be any colour you want them to be. Use instant instinct to draw details; if you overthink you might end up pouring a whole lot of meaning into stuff that you never intended to and this might distract from the actual story.

The more details you provide, the clearer the picture in the reader's mind (also the more you need to remember if you're revisiting the room). It's a fucking gamble.

When providing descriptions in general, less is more. I struggle a lot with this because i want to tell the readers about every flower in the upholstery and every lamp post on the street. When you read the old classics you'll find all these detailed descriptions and they're just so charming. Something about the way literature has evolved since then has prompted professors to teach us not to bore the reader with too much or something. Like, honestly, i don't think any two writers can describe something in the same way. It all comes down to style i think??

On writing smut:

I am the opposite of an expert just please don't listen to me.

Please just say cock.

PLEASE DON'T SAY CUM.

Please let them sweat and smell like it; let them make dying whale noises instead of musical moans; sometimes people have kinda funny or weird sex faces and that's fine i think.

Body parts dangle and sag and bulge and jiggle.

Bodies have hair.

Write what you think would feel good. Chances are that others might think so too.

No he cannot last that long, make him come.

No she did not squirt like a fountain.

No he does not taste like fucking mango sorbet or some gourmet shit; his cock tasted like a dick because it is a penis.

No her vagina did not look like a rose spreading its petals and did not taste like a strawberry; it smelled and tasted like a vagina.

Sometimes sex is awkward.

Not everyone is an expert.

I think it's safe to say that one does not usually have fourteen consecutive orgasms.

Look i can go on and on. Keep smut real and stay in character and things will sound hot because the people having sex in scene think it's hot.

Everything i have just written is complete bullshit. Kisses!

[priceofsilence]

do you have any game recs btw 👀 i feel like you generally have good taste and im looking for a next game to play. as you know i rly like lobcorp and disco elysium but tbh id be open to just about anything; i just beat outer wilds and thought that was p good

sorry for the wait I saw this just before work kajsndkjas. I tried to categorize them in some way. Also some of these I dont know/remember if you have played already or not sooo.

SO I HAD A WHOLE LONG ASS POST WITH IMAGES AND EVERYTHING IT WAS SOOO GOOD AND SHIT AND THEN IT ALL GOT DELETED???? ANYWAY i will make it short... er. I'm,,, im tired

games where you manage things (?):

Dwarf fortress (colony simulator): complicated, might have to look up things like, 'how to make a well without flooding your entire fort?' or 'how to make cheese?'. I love this game and my idiot dwarfs

Beholder (bitch ass simulator): got this one for less that a dolar on a sale lol. you are a landlord (cringe) who lives in a shit 1984 nation. Since you are already a bastard the pigs tell you to spy on your tenants. You make desisions, you tell people to fuck off, you can help other people escape the country, or try to escape with your family yourself, or try to make some change on this shit world. Extremely stressful, but good overall.

games where you read a lot:

Your Turn to Die (good death game simulator): Ever wondered what would Danganronpa be like if it was good? If it didnt suck ass? If the characters were not like that? Well here comes yttd with the steel chair and free of charge. dont read the manga tho, it doesn't exist.

games that i like but dont go in either category:

Rain World (little creachur simulator): 2D survivor with a really good art style and lore that still has me on a grip. The AI on these beasts is fascinating and the world feels so fucking alive and you are just another animal trying to survive. It's one of those "unfair" games where they just tell you the basics and after that you are left to your devices. This might be one of my favorite games ever, but I'm insane so maybe dont listen to me.

Katana Zero (PTSD simulator): fast-paced action platformer. The story is really good, the art style is also really good, the soundtrack is also also really good, i dont know what else to say. It's peak 👍

im tired these are others i really like and i dont want to make this be much longer:

Hollow Knight (metroidvania)

Cat in the Box (RPG maker horror)

Hyper light drifter (action RPG??)

[sleepyezzy]

huge ass vent that's kinda cringe lmao

today (yesterday, at the time of posting this) was a lot, sure. but you can't cry. crying is a privilege that you lost with age. you can't cry. you're not bleeding. no one died. you're supposed to be happier now, anyway. wasn't that what the medication was for? i still need it. stealing it from my dad isn't enough anymore. he's going to find out and you'll lose everything again. i can't fucking do this again. i could barely even do it the first time.

lunch was shit. the food was fine, i think. it was his stupid fucking movie he wanted me to watch. last time i indulge in any of his interests, that's for sure! how the fuck do you even manage to cover my ears so i can't take out the goddamn headphone? funny when you realize this is the same mf who hid in his sweater when i said something slightly sarcastically. pick a side, dude.

i like diet coke but only because it mimics the physical effects of a setraline overdose (at least for me. realistically i know it shouldn't do that but i don't mind. it's made things easier in regards to not having the meds anymore.)

i live in fear every day. i hear so many people say so many things and i might have heard the worst of it today. sure, it wasn't aimed at me, but it definitely made me think about and remember things that i didn't want to think about it remember. i barely remember any of the details so i don't even know why it even still hurts so much. and the one time i tried to tell someone, they didn't believe me BECAUSE i didn't want/know how to tell them. some people said i was mocking real people. i know what happened, i think, but every time another person says i'm lying to myself, i get scared. it happened years ago. what if i'm just recalling it wrong? what if i'm exaggerating it?

i genuinely can't fathom how anyone can stand being around me sometimes. every time i talk they either say im too loud or im too quiet. everything i like is childish. im rude and i all i talk about is myself and things i like. i act all self centered and confident and say things to boost my own ego that comes crashing down again with even the smallest jab anyway. the negative comments are so much more powerful than the positive because why would you take time out of your day to say that if you didn't truly believe it? with the positive things, people just like being happy. it could just be that. but people hate being upset at things, so taking time out of their day to express that hatred must mean that they really mean it.

i texted one of my friends for the first time in a month or so and she said she forgot about me. another friend deactivated their account, and i'm scared that they did something stupid and that it was my fault. and that's the problem. i'm selfish. i think everything must be about me.

this isn't even talking about the goddamn death threats i got on that one account. it was harmless fun and shouldn't have been problematic in any way. and i had to delete it because people saying they'd rape/sa or kill me was way too fucking much. and, of course, when i post something telling people to please not do that because i am a real person, i get an entire essay on why i should kill myself.

i honestly don't know why i even bother trying anymore.

[joeysthoughts101]

“I don’t want to (and I don’t need to)”

The world is changing. Social media has taken over. I don’t even know what the hell is going on anymore if I don’t check my social media accounts. But maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just not special enough for anyone to share anything personal with me first before sharing it with the world. And I guess that’s fine. I can accept that. But do I want to? Probably? It’s really just whatever. I hold zero resentment towards anyone if I was intentionally left out of any event or any conversation. Nobody needs to do anything to appease my strange desire to be secluded and invisible these days. I just like to be invisible. I don’t know man. I just don’t want to advertise myself as some sort of “cool guy” anymore and I sometimes find it very cringe that people do that on social media. Does that make me judgmental? Probably. But not for any other reason other than just wanting to be left alone. People might say, “It’s because you’ve gotten fat and you’re not as cute as you used to be. Your abs are gone and you have a fat face now.” Okay, fine. I’ll accept that too. But the truth is, no I’m not. I’m perfectly content with my weight and my looks as of right now. Right now. And if I say that out loud, would people believe me? I don’t know and I don’t care.

People change. I’ve changed. And this is me telling the world that I’ve changed. I used to rely on my supposed “good looks” and “hot bod” to get attention. I’m no longer that person. I just don’t give a fuck anymore. I’d rather have a nice juicy steak and lots and lots of creamy pasta goodness than eat a salad or count my calories. I just don’t want to do that anymore. And I don’t need to. And I love that about myself. I don’t want to go out to bars anymore either. I don’t need to impress anybody, and I don’t want to. Take me for who I am. Let me be the quiet one. Let me be the supporting character who rarely has a say in anything. Let me post and delete my content. Let me vent and let me make them disappear. It’s my choice just as much as it’s anyone else’s choice to share their personal situations on social media. Do you and I’ll do me. But that’s all it is. In my mind, it’s growth and it’s a personal decision I made to keep myself in a safe position in this “new” world. I refuse to conform.

But what the fuck am I even saying? Who am I even saying all of this to? I don’t know. I’m just talking to myself I guess. People like to insinuate that they know you and they get you by reacting the way that they do when you’re just saying things. When you just have an opinion that differs from the rest. But do they really know you? Do they really know me? Have they accepted the fact that people CAN change? That people can learn from their mistakes? That people can self-reflect and understand that they had to make a change to better themselves? Do they know all that? Do they accept all that? And does it matter? How do we move on if we continue to cling on to an idea that this person was ‘hella stupid!’ and ‘hella terrible!’, and has now actually made an effort to change for the better? Introspection is a hell of a drug, yeah? Because they now know they were a trainwreck in their past lives? In the stages of growth, regardless of how inconvenient or convenient it may be. Do people get that? Again, I don’t fucking know.

I just think that it’s a natural human thought process to never ever let go of how you knew a person, so it lingers. And subconsciously, we will never let go of that idea we have about someone because we probably have our own demons to conquer, so we deflect. And by deflecting, we are actually just instinctually protecting ourselves from feeling like a piece of shit, because oh shit, someone actually got smarter and more mature and I’m still in the same position I was 5 years ago. Our minds do whatever the hell we need to do to protect our own hearts and our own insecurities. So instead of seeing this change in another person, we would rather see this person as the person we used to know. But that person doesn’t even exist anymore.

And that’s what gets me.

[refriedrambles]

Alrighty right, so gotta bit sick getting back on track

Rise isn't what I was expecting so far, but I think I like it better the way it is

It's goofy, like genuinely goofy and you can tell a lotta love was put into making it

It makes me cringe but like again that's more of a medium thing with me. I hard cringe at most shows I watch. Definitely a me problem. But I think I figured out how to deal with that and get through shows for the most part

Absolutely love it. Amazing show! Donnie is definitely my favorite so far

Just talking about plans and other stuff I've been enjoying past this point

I found a little music/audio software to fuck around in which seems like a good way to get into that

Been really enjoying Pirate Software's vods

Have been crushed by the fact that like nothing is free with ads on Crunchyroll anymore. Looked at like fifty shows, found all of one that was free past ep three. Sucks. My disappointment is immeasurable. Still gonna watch that one anime and then probably uninstall

What I'm doing with Being Fired and some recurring manhwa tropes inspired me to tear all my nonfanfic ideas apart and try to make something new with them which has been fun so far but has made me realize I know like nothing about geography and would very much like to learn. So two new things to do

Anyway I think Being Fired has scope creep cause I'm probably being too serious with it and it's about characters that are only lightly touched on in IZ. I intend to keep working on it until I have it finished, but may try to get the Dib fic done first. Or Epic Space Battle. Either one they're both supposed to be goofy little oneshots mainly following well established characters

When I say Being Fired has scope creep I mean I have given up on it in its current form am dumping all the Irken fics ideas I have (which is more then I'd like) into it and am trying to develop characters and plots from there. Like I have a lotta ideas that just don't work in the frame work I have for what I want and I know I can do better. I'm not really deleting anything this time around cause I did have amazing ideas, but these ideas might either end up being oneshot fics off on their own or they might get to stay in the main folds. I've yet to decide

Might mess around with that visual novel game engine too seems like a lotta fun. Don't remember the name but I got it bookmarked. This and the music thing are just dick around and try to do fun shit things. I don't want them to have the pressure I've got with art or writing

I want to get through my art courses too so I'm gonna need to set some time aside for that

Fire Emblem is trying to suck me back in

I mean I feel this strong strong urge to find my 3ds and try a new run of Awakening, Fates, and Shadows of Valentia and restart my run of Genealogy of the Holy War and like get my hands on more titles. I shouldn't have installed Heroes. I will resist the urge!

I also really wanna play Cult of the Lamp but I wanna finish at least one of the games I have before I get a new one

I am so bad at finishing games

And shows

[sajaffery]

unblock...2...

thank you gobstikelsa1970..although i blame you for having to break one of my earlier rules. this was supposed to be all part of the same post. which started yesterday and was supposed to continue and continue until tumblr officially decided to kick me off their website altogether for being a nuisance and a show off at which point i would be forced to roam the face of this earth with words pouring out of my fingers into the thankless earth. sorry. i kind of got ahead of myself there. but ive decided to continue this on a seperate post, titled the same with a few sad dots and a 2 at the end. perhaps my two followers wont hate me so much anymore, and they might even ask other people to follow me. although they seem to only be interested in large naked men with bulging muscles. i hope thats not why they added me for i can only ever be a large naked man with a bulging stomach. they might be into that, after a few beers, maybe a couple of tequila shots and five hundred years of solitude. another cliched literary refernce. see earlier post for reference and explanation for terrible grammer and spelling. fuck dead white old men! were they old? i cant remember. and I cant go back and check either. you certainly can. but you wont. because youve got better things to do, like continue reading this post. emoticon alert. okay this is starting to get repetitive. I’m making the same jokes as yesterday. its probably a good thing i cant go back and reread my posts because then i definietely would be cracking the same jokes again and again. or i might be able to build on them and improve them. isnt that what all writers do? Bukowski certainly does. I’ve read three books by him and countless short stories and it seems to be the same books over and over again with very similar characters, especially women. doing the same things over and over again and him just finding us better ways to tell us about it. so I guess I can do that. but I cant rered what I wrote yesterday so I cant. and I’m not great. by any stretch if the imagination. but then neither was Bukowski. another reason why my wife cant read this, she’d pick up the laptop and smash it over my head for saying that.                          (FORCED DELETION)

I FUCKING HATE DONALD TRUMP. compared to him, i’m jesus christ. i.e. impossible to hate. everyone loves jesus, even the people who hate bible bashers because the man just talked about love. and he had cool hair. the poor guy was even ready to marry a prossi. how fucking awesome can you get. my mum called me jesus the other day because she was yelling at me and i just kept smiling at her. thats how amazing the man was. although it does kind of help the argument that he might have been deluded. even mad. huh. i didnt think of it like that. not a very nice thing for my mum to have said. hmmm. i’m blanking for a bit. oh new rule! i have to tell you, i say you even though i know nobody is reading this, and if someone is…cringe!!! but yes i have to tell you why i stopped writing yesterday because i wrote down i have to go to work but thats not good enough as an excuse because i’m actually at work as i write this. my work involves sitting behind a counter with a laptop infront of me and ignoring every customer who walks in as much as i can. yes i’m a till jocky and not the cool kind like randall from clerks, but more the sad kind like Dante because he hates being there but has nowhere fucking else to go. my parents own this place. hence my dad being a rich capitalist and my being a fake socialist. and ive been stuck here for the last six years now and i reconize 90% of the people who walk into this place and i want to punch atleast 90% of those 90%. I cant punch the rest of the 10% because theyre too fucking old. not because I like them. wow I hate a lot of people. no. no. this is just a symptom me hating myself again. it has to be I’m starting to come out like a monster in this post, my two hypersexualised followers are going to be defollowing me any second. can you find out if someone has defollowed you? do you get a little notification for that? like you do when someone is following you. such and such person is no longer following you. LOSER! me. not them. i’m the dumpee remember, not the dumper. maybe this is me. maybe this is why i’m writing this, because i cant possibly hope to tell anyone any of these things. not face to face anyway. who would want to listen? God knows I wouldn’t. except maybe if i was getting paid for it. even then. clearly ive gone through medical school or at least graduate school to be sitting there and getting paid to listen to this crap and eventually i’d reach a point where i’d want to get this person out of my room, out of my face out of my life, just as far away from me as possible, wow. i want to stop writing this now. i suddenly dont feel great. and i feel tired 

[judaswail]

AHH i had half a giant response post written out to ur reply to my ask about måneskin and then tumblr deleted it so im just gonna ramble back @ u:

absolutely Crazy details about their manager leaving and album timelines and all that, like it was evident that something changed between esc & rush and that makes total sense. i agree that the Cool Sexy Italian thing is great for marketing and an occasional song, but it’s so fucking tiresome for a whole album and it’s just. disappointing?

i don’t speak italian (aside from when i lived with an italian briefly in germany and he tried teaching me that ‘cazzo’ means ‘hello’ lmao) but even just reading translated lyrics it’s like damiano. what happened. i remember him saying in an interview that writing in english is easier bc they don’t give a shit if it’s cringe, and boy does that come through on rush…

anyway i had more coherent points in the vanished post but yeah, vol. 2 might be a pipe dream but some part of me will always be waiting :’) gonna go watch that video to cleanse, thank u

hey man sorry for taking so long to answer 😭😭 my bitch ass caught covid so if this comes out as pointless rambling that's why😃👍 anyway again, i fully agree with you and my god he did NOT have to tell on himself so bad with that comment lmao. yeah we can tell no thought goes into your english lyrics thanks for not trying ig 💀 btw ever since your last ask i went and listened to bla bla bla and read your diary so you can imagine the kind of state that i am in. mark chapman is the song i've been digging the most, i think, but nothing beats listening to vent'anni at night and bawling your eyes out (can you tell it's my favourite song off that album lol). so yeah we WILL be waiting for what we are due, keep the faith brother 😤 oh and good afternoon in italian is "porca puttana" you should try it out :)

[spidervee]

marbles • jake seresin x fem!reader

summary: jake doesn’t always think before he acts and you tend to do enough thinking for the both of you. this is the story of your friendship and five years spent apart; your budding romance and broken hearts. because when you tell jake you can’t marry him, you don’t expect him to ever come back to you. but a lot can change, especially when you wake up in the hospital and his gorgeous face is the first you see

a/n: started this a while ago (with a different title, but never posted it, deleted my account, then realized this was a little brain worm that never went away lol she’s a hot mess y’all); going to try a taglist, so hmu if you’re interested? Each part of the story will cover a different key moment in jake’s relationship with reader

part one of eight: easy (like you) -> you and Jake reconnect at a frat party in freshman year

part two of eight: under-rehearsed -> coming soon! jake realizes he's still got feelings for you and you realize that maybe you never stopped holding a torch for him

series warnings: 18+ only! fem!reader; reader has no racial or body type descriptors except that she is shorter than jake; reader is nicknamed “jersey” but no use of y/n; loads of cursing; military inaccuracies, sorry; hospitals; mentions of: accidents, surgery, food, near-death experience, failed engagements, weed and alcohol; smut, dirty talk, and sexual banter — more specific warnings to be marked part by part but y’all know I’m writing Jake with a daddy kink; mutual pining; idiots in love; an excuse to write cowboy!jake; more tba if necessary

snippet: “Heard you’re a hero now,” you offer, desperate for the conversation to shift. If you can get Jake talking about himself, about his flying, then you’re safe. He never shuts up about it. 

No luck, you realize, when he simply sucks in his teeth and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Your sister told me about it,” you continue, “As much as she could, I guess. Doesn’t really add up though, you being there to save those other guys.” 

Instantly, you and Jake both seem to realize where this is heading. Like the conversation is a semi-truck coming at you with its headlights blinding you and its horn blaring, but there’s nowhere to turn so a collision course is imminent. 

“Don’t do this, Jers,” Jake pleads. “Not now.” 

“I’m just saying,” you continue, riled up by Jake’s seeming refusal to talk, “You obviously put yourself in extra danger, willingly, might I add, to do something heroic. For what? A medal? Bragging rights? Jake, you’re absolutely—“ 

“I have nothing else!” 

The interjection, impassioned and angry as it is, catches you off guard. Jake has never raised his voice at you before today, not ever. Not even when you accidentally killed the engine on his tractor. 

You don’t reply, not for lack of wanting. It would seem that your voice has gotten lost, shrunk into your lungs, ashamed of all it had let loose just moments ago. Jake looks at you with a pained expression and you’re reminded of the night you might as well have pulled his heart out of his chest and crushed it under foot. 

“I’m…” 

“Forget it,” Jake sighs, defeated, “I’ll leave. Glad you’re okay.” 

He goes. You let him. 

Until you hear the front door close softly and you’re dragging yourself across the hallway. By the time you’re outside, he’s halfway to his truck. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jake shouts, disbelief written in his raised eyebrows. He looks half-angry, half-terrified that you’ll throw yourself down the porch steps. Your stance is ungainly, your body off balance with that weight of your cast and it would take very little for you to fall, especially as overwhelmed as you feel right now. 

“Don’t leave,” you call, trying not to cringe at how cliché you sound. “Jake, please. Just…stay?” He stares at you for a long moment and you feel sweat trickle down the back of your neck, but you’re not convinced it’s from the Texan heat. 

A small hint of a smirk starts to tug at the corners of his lips and it makes something warm and welcome explode in your chest. “A good ol’ Southern boy ain’t gonna leave his girl stranded, is he?” 

“Didn’t think you were my girl anymore,” Jake whispers, by your side in three long strides, his arms taking care to hold you up where you’ve started to wobble.