#it just makes it harder for new fans to actually learn the truth

[aceissomunster]

Clearing up misconceptions and such about Tim Drake for all you non-comic reading fic-writers and people that just don’t know. Mostly chronologically

Under the cut, cause this is gonna get long ,,

While Tim isn’t my favorite batfamily member, or even robin in particular, he is the one whose comics i’ve read the most of and know the most about.

If i’m wrong about any of this, please let me know!

- Tim’s parents weren’t especially abusive. they were neglectful, as in leaving him with the nannies and sending him off to boarding schools when they were out of the country, which was frequently. also, they did love him. i don’t even know where people got the idea that they didn’t.

- Tim did not stalk the bats, until he noticed Batman’s grief-driven violence and decided to follow, photograph, and gather evidence

- he also didn’t just go up to Bruce and ask to be Robin, he actually tracked down Dick Grayson to the circus and tried to convince him to come back to being Robin. Dick drove him to the manor, and then found out Tim’s whole story.

then Alfred let him down into the cave, Batman and Nightwing got captured by Two-Face, and Alfred practically threw the Robin costume at him and they went to save Batman and Nightwing. THEN Tim told Bruce that he was Robin. (— A Lonely Place of Dying, Tim’s 13)

- Before even becoming Robin fully, Tim’s parents were kidnapped and held for ransom in Haiti by a man called the “Obeah Man” (“Obeah” translates roughly to black magic, I’m pretty sure). Batman finds them by following the people that were going to pay the ransom, and they were being kept in some underground place? I’m not sure, but it was really really hot. There’s a pitcher of water, and Janet drinks it, and Jack starts drinking it, and Janet dies near-instantly, and Batman smacks the water out of Jack’s hands but Jack still ends up completely paralyzed and put into a coma. (— Rite of Passage)

- Fun fact: Janet’s funeral was Christmas eve

- it’s only after his mother’s death and father’s hospitalization that he goes to Paris (keep in mind, Batman did not force him to go, Tim wanted to!) to train under Rahul Lama, and then with Lady Shiva. (Robin mini 1)

- he doesn’t actually get trained by Shiva in the run, but it’s vaguely implied

- Fun fact: Tim actually kills Lady Shiva once (i forget what the storyline’s called, but it’s somewhere in Robin 52-55 ish)

- OH YEAH, Jason Todd was NOT Tim’s Robin. Tim Drake has been Dick Grayson’s #1 fanboy since the circus. He could not care less about Jason

- Fun fact: early in his Robin career, he hallucinated Dick and Jason as Robin (even though Dick was very alive) giving him advice

- He had friends outside of YJ. Like his best friend Sebastian Ives, his friend Callie, his (ex) girlfriend Ariana Dzerchenko, and a good bit more.

- he started dating Steph as Robin while dating Ariana as Tim, but Ari and Tim broke up like the day after Steph and Tim got together (not because of Steph, Ari didn’t know Tim was Robin, but because of other stuff that happened. go read Robin.)

- fun fact: Tim actually didn’t have contingency plans for Young Justice/the Titans, because he actually trusts them, unlike his mentor. (this is mentioned sometime in Young Justice 1998, but I don’t remember the issue)

- Tim’s 16 (not 14 or whatever THOSE tim stans try to say) and on the Teen Titans, when the fabled and constantly over-exaggerated “Titan’s Tower incident” occurs. Tim is fully suited up in the Robin suit, he puts up a good fight with Jason (who is in an adult-sized Robin costume, by the way) until he gets knocked out. This fight leaves no lasting injuries on Tim. (Teen Titans (2003) #29)

- the whole Jason slitting his throat thing happens in a different comic. (Batman: Hush, i’m pretty sure, correct me if i’m wrong)

- Tim also kicks Jason in the nuts the next time he sees him, so there’s not really any hard feelings there.

- Tim’s dad finds out he’s Robin and makes him quit, and Steph becomes Robin. Then Steph dies and Tim’s school gets shot up and he becomes Robin again.

- Tim leaves Jack alone at their home to go find the man sent to kill him. While he’s gone, the man (Captain Boomerang) kills Jack. (— Identity Crisis #5)

- after Jack dies, Bruce offers to adopt Tim and Tim turns him down and creates a fake uncle. Batman finds out the uncle is fake, commends him on his good job of making a fake uncle, and helps him make it better. Bruce later offers again to adopt Tim and he accepts. Damian literally shows up like the very issue after this in Batman

- Kon dies, then Bart dies a bit after. And, not to hate on yall TimKon shippers out there, but he also planned to clone Bart, and also in TT03 like 50-53ish, when him and the other Titans run into their future evil selves again, their Superman (Kon) and Flash (Bart) are clones.

- All those deaths happen relatively close together and in that order, I think, when Tim’s 16-17. But comic timelines are weird, like how Tim was 15 when the Quake hit and for the year-long duration of No Man’s Land (from New Year’s to New Year’s), he stays 15.

- When Bruce “dies” and Dick (Batman) makes Damian Robin. Damian needs guidance, and Dick wants him and Tim to be equals. Dick had good intentions and did the right thing! He just didn’t have the best execution.

- When Tim finds the painting and tells Dick about it, Dick DOES NOT THREATEN TO SEND HIM TO ARKHAM. He, reasonably (considering all the losses Tim has just faced) assumes Tim needs mental help and grief counseling, and recommends him a therapist in Metropolis.

- Tim decides to just go find evidence that Bruce isn’t dead by himself, and steals the Red Robin suit and runs off without even telling Alfred (Red Robin)

- Ra’s al Ghul sends people to kill Tim at first, but Tim obviously doesn’t die and breaks Pru’s nose twice. Eventually and reluctantly, Tim accepts the League’s help and resources.

- Tim finds his best piece of evidence in a cave in the desert with Pru, Z, and Owens. right after leaving the cave, an assassin attacks them, killing Z and Owens, slitting Pru’s throat, and stabbing Tim. Tim, ACTIVELY BLEEDING OUT, brings himself and Pru to the car they used to get there, drives to a hotel, CLIMBS UP THE BUILDING TO ONE OF THE TOP FLOORS WITH PRU WHILE THEY ARE BOTH BLEEDING OUT, and passes out on the bed, where Tam Fox (sent by Lucius to go find Tim) finds them. and so do a bunch of ninjas.

- Tim had to have his spleen removed because it was kebabed with a sword and was going to rupture. Ra’s also does NOT keep it in a jar.

- during the whole LOA part of RR, Ra’s is NOT preying on Tim. there is NO ROMANCE THERE. (no offense if you see it or think it’s implied, but to me it’s just really not?) its just RESPECT.

- with the whole bases exploding thing, its because the Council of Spiders was there and also he just doesn’t like the LOA. he gave them like 15 seconds to get out, obviously all the assassins managed to get out of the massive, complex bases in 15 seconds. (comic logic: if it’s not specified that it did kill them, then it didn’t.)

- the whole “Damian cutting Tim’s line” is also very exaggerated. Damian did it because of Tim’s “Hit List” and because Damian was on it. and Tim fell a few feet, caught himself, then fought Damian (neither won because Dick broke it up because they were literally right in front of THE alley.)

- not really a timeline thing, but in general, tim is VERY against murder. Part of the reason for this is Batman’s morals, which he built his own around, sure. But I think an even BIGGER part of his moral code is just to not become evil future gun Batman. And evil future gun Batman has no qualms against murder, he even killed Damian.

that’s pretty much the main stuff i wanted to touch on. LMK if i should add anything else or if i got anything wrong, thanks!!

No hate if u use the fanon stuff btw, i just know that a lot of people don’t read the comics and don’t know the actual information.

If you want pictures of some of these events from the comics, just lmk and I’ll provide

[behoright]

flawed and free | p. kochetkov

When you move / I can recall somethin' that's gone from me

summary: pyotr finds himself finally speaking the truth to himself, and to you

wordcount: 6.4k

song: movement by hozier

warnings: 18+! minors dni! crappy proofreading LOL sorry. contains cursing, smut n sexual situations. like a whole bunch fo nastiness sorry

a/n: so uhh….yall still horny? ᵐᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʰᶦᵃᵗᵘˢ

⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦⠀️⠀️

He had dreamed of making it this far for so, so long. 

And he was always told, by all his coaches, his family, eventually by Rod: playing in the NHL was going to require a different version of him. 

This was never cause for concern for Pyotr.

He could always be tougher, stronger. He knew if he was pushed, he’d always push back harder. There was no practice he would miss, no meetings he’d be late for, no nights out, no distractions. If everyone gave 100%, he’d aim for more. He made it here by working hard, and he wasn’t going to stop now. 

But things were different than he imagined. 

He knew he’d feel disoriented, but not like this.

The pace was different in Carolina. The days he’d be ready to give it that extra mile at the gym, they’d go overtime on the ice. Most of the time they’d go out on dinners until the final hours of the day, when he honestly just wanted to spend more time on his reflexes or recovery. 

The way everyone carried themselves, the fans, the electricity of the city were all so new, and most times he felt lost in the swirl of it all. 

And the language.

Thankfully Andrei had helped, more than he should have actually. 

Honestly, he didn’t think it was going to matter all that much, looking at his new Russian teammates. But he quickly realized that he wanted to belong to a whole team, not a clique. 

To get the Stanley Cup they needed to all be on the same page. 

Communicate.

And when Andrei started to push him, Pyotr felt himself treading water. 

All of a sudden he felt his personality crumple inside, his colorfulness get stuck behind the language barrier. He wanted to put himself out there, to be himself, but he had no way to express that.

He would have never said it out loud, but it was all starting to take a toll on him. 

Until he met you.

 ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀* ˚ ✦️⠀

“Pyotr, focus.”

Another day, another lesson. Like most of his days off, Pyotr found himself sitting across from you. 

Andrei had talked incessantly about his friends to Pyotr, who had never wanted to hear it. He felt like he could barely keep up with his social life at work, let alone with a group of people he had never met, in a country he was barely familiar with. 

And then one night, after basically being dragged by his teammate, Pyotr finally met you face to face. His heart skipped a beat as he heard you introduce yourself in almost perfect Russian. 

“I thought she could help more than me, PK.” Andrei said hesitantly later that night, as they both stared at you from across the bar. “Very nice and very smart. Very single too.”

“заткнись” 

“Shut up.” Pyotr answered, rolling his eyes. Hopefully, the bar was dark enough to hide his blush. 

And the rest was… easy. it all unfolded smoothly, and besides the language practice, you clicked immediately and began hanging out every week. With the excuse of learning, of course.

Teaching Pyotr hadn’t been difficult, when he was still embarrassed enough to put up a polite front with you. 

Yet months later, here you were sitting with him as he threw another tiny paper ball at you, this time comically bouncing off your head and sending the Russian into hysterics.

“You need to focus!” you said, jokingly pushing his arm.

“This.” he said, closing the book. “Boring.”

“Okay, okay.” you answered, studying his face. “Do you want to call it a night?”

“No.” he shook his head. “Want something fun. In English.”

“Like what, PK?” you sighed, your cold fingers resting on your forehead.

“Если �� смогу заказать пиццу на английском, ты поужинаешь со мной. И мы тоже можем посмотреть фильм на английском.”

“If I can order a pizza in English, you have dinner with me. And we can watch a movie in English too.”

You stared at his face, lit up with hope; his fingers nervously picking at his skin under the table.

“Well, that’s not a bad idea.” you muttered. “Fine. But we go pick up the food, okay? So you interact with people more.”

The thought of socializing in public wasn’t thrilling, but he would have done anything to spend more time with you. He didn’t even admit it to himself, but Pyotr longed to see the parts of you that you hid behind the lessons, books, and schedules. 

He nodded firmly, extending his hand out to you.

“Deal.”

That word he knew.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

“So, any plans this weekend?” you asked, packing up as you wrapped up another one of your study sessions.

Once again, the “hour” you had planned together had extended into the rest of the afternoon he had free. 

You had told yourself it was all okay, that friends, afterall, can and do hang out daily, and for long periods of time. And there was no better way to learn a new language than conversation. If you needed to be that person for him, then perfect. 

Even if you couldn’t feel more guilty to steal all his time. 

And to feel like every single time you were close, you were hiding the biggest secret. 

It wasn’t anything you expected, to grow feelings for him. 

When Andrei had first introduced you, there were no sparks, no twinkle in his eyes. It was a friend of a friend, and one that needed dire help in learning English as soon, and as quickly as possible. 

But it sprouted overtime. 

Much to your surprise, despite the busy Canes schedule, Pyotr had been able to attend every single study session. 

The more time went by, the closer you two became. It’d been nice to see Pyotr relax around you. It was even a relief to see him try less, honestly. To watch him soften from the awkward guy who couldn't even look at you, stumbling over every word and yet refusing to take a break, to the one you could call a friend, and now let himself into your apartment and could be found, most times, sprawled on your couch. 

Feeling at home wasn’t as simple as learning verbs and propositions. 

It was the food, the people, the atmosphere downtown. 

The customs, the unwritten rules.

But this went further than that. Further than comfort. 

“Вообще-то, да, я-”

“Actually, yes, I’m-” his answer snapped you out of your rumination.

“Пи, скажи мне по-английски.”

“P, tell me in English.”

“Uh,” he rolled his eyes. “I am going on date.”

Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe all friends went out for breakfast, lunch and dinner on their days off. Bought each other keepsakes, reminders of their bond. 

Perhaps, you were the only safe person in this town who wasn’t a teammate. And Pyotr needed all the help he could get, so maybe that’s why he hung around so often. 

It had to be that. 

“Oh wow, that’s great!” you exclaimed, hoping the tinge of jealousy wouldn’t be noticeable. It was bound to happen afterall.

“It’s been a long time since I go on one, so.”

“Yeah?” you answered, refusing to look up at him and packing up faster. 

“Yeah, because I cannot speak very much, so.” he sighed.

“Well, you’re doing so good. I’m sure everything will go fine.” you reassured him, now looking up at him. “She’ll have a great time.”

“I don’t go date very much. Ever. Even before.”

His sentence stopped you in your tracks. The tone shift didn’t slip by you. 

You knew each other, and knew when something was weighing on him.

“Why’s that?” you said, your throat tight. 

“Uh, how do you say, like. It’s, strange? Weird?”

“Oh, yeah. A bit awkward at times.” you chuckled. Maybe it was nothing. Nevertheless, you let your bag hit the ground and let yourself fall back on the spot next to him.

“Yes! That one. Makes me too nervous.” he said, looking down. 

“You don’t have to be nervous. You’re a great guy.”

“I know, I know, but… I-. Ah. Nothing.” he said, waving his hands around.

There it was. You knew there was something. 

“Wait, what is it?” 

“No, nothing. I don’t say. To, uh. To you. Forget.” he continued, avoiding your gaze.

“Oh, c'mon, P. We’re friends, right? You can tell me.” you said, trying to find him under the worry on his face.

Friends. Pyotr didn't know hearing you say this word could make his chest tighten even more.

Actually, he wasn’t even sure how he had ended up bringing this up at all. When he was around you, words seemed to come out in a way he hadn’t experienced before. 

“Yeah, you my friend. I see you more than team sometimes I think.”  he chuckled, fiddling with his hands in his lap.

“We do spend a lot of time together, yeah.” you muttered. “You don’t have to tell me, but I was just curious.”

Pyotr let his head fall back on the couch with a groan. He was flushed, there was no hiding it. No matter how many times he adjusted his cap. It didn’t help that you suddenly placed your hand on his thigh.

You two were no strangers to touch, having spent lots of flights taking turns sleeping on each others shoulders, countless movie nights ending up somewhat cuddled; but it never got old to him. In fact, it just made his heart beat faster each time, as much as he tried to deny it.

He couldn’t fall for Andrei’s friend, he couldn’t fall for his teacher, he couldn’t fall for you.

“Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, P. Let’s forget about it.”

As he noticed you were getting ready to stand up, Pyotr instinctively - and unexpectedly, to the both of you - grabbed your hand.

“No leave. Please.” he said.

“O-okay, I can stay. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just… You not want to hear about that. Like, sex and uh, that. Like you said, awkward.” 

It was taking him every single ounce of control not to bolt out of the room and never see you again. What was he doing?

“Why not? We’re friends. It’s not too weird to me, P, but you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”

No going back now. 

“Not awkward for you?” he asked.

“Not really. It’s just sex. Not a big deal.” you said, shrugging your shoulders. 

Pyotr let out a laugh of bashfulness.

Americans and their easygoing attitudes. He still couldn’t put together how he had gotten himself into this nightmare situation.  Talking about embarrassing sex stories with the girl he had wanted more than anyone else before. All because he made up this fake date in a foolish attempt to garner more attention.

Acting like a teenager and against his own will.

“Okay. I tell you. But no laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?” you rolled your eyes. 

“Last dates, very embarrassing for me”

“Why’s that?” you chuckled. 

“Don’t know, I…uh. Sometimes, when I kiss too much, or, or too long, I-, I-” he looked at you, raising his eyebrows. 

Pyotr swore his heart was about to stop. 

“You…?”

“You know.”

“Um….” you slightly shook your head, confused at what he was hinting to.

“черт, я кончаю слишком быстро, ясно, идиот?”

“Fuck, I cum too fast, okay, dummy ?” he spewed out in Russian, instantly regretting all of this.

It suddenly hit you. The fact that you didn’t get it before actually made you burst out in a laugh.

Duh.

Pyotr placed his hands on your thighs, slightly pushing you. 

“You said you do not laugh, please, please.” he whined, before covering his face. 

Maybe this was the time to leave and, possibly, move back to Russia forever.

“I’m not laughing at you! I just can’t believe I didn’t get what you were hinting at.” you explained.

“идиот”

“Idiot.”

“Hey! At least say it in English.” you joked.

He snorted, but as the laughing died down, a somber and thick silence fell upon the couch.

You turned to look at your friend, who kept toying around with the string of his sweats, his face burning red. He looked like he wanted to melt right into the furniture.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s no big deal.” you tried to reassure him.

“No, big deal. Maybe here, everyone talk about this. Not home.”

Pyotr trusted you with all of his being, but he didn’t know if maybe this was a mistake. He was most likely losing the minuscule and only chance he had with you. 

“Have you brought it up to any of the guys?”

“Okay, you joke now.” 

“Okay, okay you’re right. I don’t know why I ever assumed men talk about this together.” you chuckled. “Don’t you think it’d be easier to just, talk about it though?”

The quiet still hung thick in the air.

“Embarrassing. Sometimes, I don’t even take pants off before, and then, happens.” he murmured, finally. Barely loud enough to hear.

“A lot of guys deal with it, you know? It’s not like you’re the only one.” 

“Yes, but, then girls don’t like me.” he said quietly.

“Wait, what?” 

“Only get one date. It happens and no call back, no text.”

“Oh.” you sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Они тоже всегда выглядят такими разочарованными. Некоторые из них относятся к этому хорошо, другие смеются. Так что после этого я больше не хожу на свидания. И вдобавок ко всему, я даже не могу правильно говорить по-английски.”

“They always look so disappointed too. Some of them are nice about it, others laugh. So I don’t get dates after that. And I can’t even speak English correctly, on top of it all.”

“Seems to me like you’ve been able to speak in English just fine this whole time, P.” you said, turning to face him and touching his thigh again, in hopes he would look at you.

“Not good, but I getting better. You help me practice a lot.” Finally, he gave you a tiny smile.

“Maybe you just need to do that. Practice.” you said, perking up.

“What you mean, practice?” he asked.

“Just keep doing it until it doesn’t happen anymore.”

“How I can do if I don’t have date to help me?” he said. “Is not me, it only happens with girl.”

“Oh, I see.” you said. “Maybe you can find someone to help you? I’m sure there’s some trustworthy girls out there.”

“Maybe. Maybe like you.”

You felt your skin flush, the tingly sensation covering your chest in shock. You knew very well where this conversation could lead, and you didn’t know if it was a wise choice to go down that path. 

And Pyotr knew it too, he just, really didn't know what he was doing. He wanted to stop talking, save the little dignity he had left, but it felt impossible. He knew you could see right through him.

“Like…me?”

He didn’t mean for it to happen, but letting that thought slip past his lips had changed the air in the room drastically.

“Yeah. You are very nice and uh, you wait for me a lot. How do you say?”

“Patient?”

“Yes, you are patient.” he said. “I need patient girl.”

You could see the gears turn in his head, but you weren’t sure if he would’ve dared to ask. He hadn't been able to look at you this whole time, after all.

“Someone like you can help me.” he whispered. 

Someone had to be bold, and Pyotr, suffocating in his cloud of embarrassment, wasn’t going to be the one. 

“P.” you said, not brave enough to say the words.

Your hand was still on his thigh, which now felt too close but somehow still not close enough. All he could do was just…look at you. The heat on his face made his eyes water. He felt like a deer in headlights, your raised eyebrows making his body quiver. He could see you were waiting for a response, but if he opened his mouth more he didn’t know what he could have said.

And the damage that could have cost him. The space between you felt suffocating to him, but too far for you. 

Too far from me, you thought again, with a deep inhale.

This was not who you were. Or ever had been.

And this was not who he needed.

You scoffed, with a smile inevitably forming on your face.

“Wha-” he said, now looking more confused than terrified as his eyes darted over towards you. 

It was you, for God’s sake. 

His friend, his closest friend. 

“It’s just me, Pyotr.”

“Uh, I…”

“Oh, P, come on!” you exclaimed, finally gathering the courage to move and straddle his lap, before you could overthink yourself out of it.

Pyotr threw his head back with a snort as soon as you settled yourself on top of him. What in the world was happening?

“Что ты делаешь? Давай”

“What are you doing? C’mon” he asked.

When he finally dared to move his hands away from his face, you spotted the familiar smile adorning his cheeks. 

“Um, I’m sorry, I’m a girl who only understands English. I don’t know what you said.” you joked, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You fucking-” he laughed, his face boiling with embarrassment. “What you doing, eh? You gonna help me?”

“It really seems like that’s what you were hinting at, P.”

“You don’t have to do, you know. Nothing. Not language, not friend, not this. You-”

“You don’t want me here?” you asked.

“I not say that.”

“So, what, I’m not good enough at teaching now?" you joked. "Or is it that I'm not pretty enough for you, is that it?” you kept going, hoping to lift up his spirits a little more. “Big time hockey player now, you’re only going to date models?”

Pyotr's smile grew wider as he kept his face on the strings of his sweats, avoiding your body with his gaze.

Feeling it on top of his quads was already too much for him to think about.

“You are very beautiful, not that.” he said, smiling from ear to ear. “But, we are friends. We never did anything like this.”

“Okay, we don’t have to.” you said, dropping your arms by your side. Before you could even move one leg to stand back up, Pyotr almost automatically wrapped his fingers around your waist.

He felt like he was already losing control, his body giving him away like this.

“See, you’re saying one thing, but doing something different.” you said, poking at his nose. “Why won’t you just ask, P?”

“Cannot embarrass myself for you.” he said, his hands still on your waist.

“Oh, so I was right! You do want to!” you exclaimed, making Pyotr giggle, covering his face with his hands once again. That didn’t stop you from trying to poke at this face again, regardless if he was covering it. "I was right! I knew it!" The more you teased him, the harder he laughed, even if he was hiding it. You began bouncing on his lap jokingly, finding more spots to poke him as you both laughed: his ear, his neck, his shoulders.

Pyotr moved his touch back onto your back.

“Hey, come on, not move like that.”. He couldn’t look at you, in his feeble attempt to still your body.

“Why?” you muttered, still teasingly. “Is it turning you on?”

“No, silly.” he shook his head.

Silly.

It was the first word he ever learned from you. 

“Really?” you scooched closer to him, hips now meeting. “How about this?”

The stifled groan fully gave him away.

You tried to read his deadpan expression; the layer of annoyance wasn’t thick enough to mask how his jaw was tensing, a bead of sweat starting to form by his hairline.

Pyotr’s thighs began to flex underneath you, in an attempt to keep his pelvis from thrusting forward into yours. 

He could feel you, and you could feel him.

Both of you swelling slowly with pleasure under your clothes.

“Oh, god.”

You pressed yourself a little harder against him, your underwear pooling already. 

Wondering if you had taken yourself too far.

“Do you actually want this? You can say no, P. It won’t change anything about our friendship, I promise.”

“I want to, I want to bad. I am just, nervous. This embarrassing.” he sighed.

“Я не могу заставить тебя чувствовать себя хорошо.”

“I can’t make you feel good.”

“We’ll see about that.” you said, leaning over until your lips were a breath away from his neck. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Y-yes, yes.” Pyotr almost moaned as you made contact with his neck, leaving pecks up and down his goosebumps.

You began grinding on him, very slowly. You felt his cock grow bigger under your clothes as you moved back and forth on him. 

Pyotr kept his grip on you, clammy palms pressed tightly against your back. 

“Please, please, slow. Even with pants, I feel you so much, fuck.”

The familiar fire in his lower abdomen kindling.

It had always been like this.

Fire meets gasoline.

As much as Pyotr loved a good slow burn, and all the nights he spent fantasizing about hours of kissing and teasing, his system always had other plans.

His body didn't have a control dial. It didn't know how to start and slow down into the pleasure. It wanted it all and it wanted it now.

The more he felt the fabric of your clothes slither against his, the more he felt the head rush speed up inside.

Almost twitching already.

"Y/N" he groaned, barely louder than a whisper.

"I know, PK." you moaned, lips still lapping at his rough skin. "I know."

His grip tightened on your waist.

He didn’t know if he was trying to slow you down or if he was just losing control over his body. 

He needed to breathe, he had to relax, but there seemed to be no air. No amount of oxygen or deep breaths was going to bring him down. 

“Slow, slow, slow.” he continued.

He moved his lower back to press against the couch, to avoid completely lifting his hard bulge against you.

“Just breathe, P. I know it feels good, it feels good for me too.” you moaned.

Time began to warp as you two fell into pleasure together. Eventually, settling down in a comfortable rhythm.

The push and pull.

When you pushed yourself down strongly on him, he’d quiver upwards as much as he could.

As much as he allowed himself.

His diaphragm swelling, catching his breath and releasing it warm through his slack jaw and onto you.

You kept at it for a while, hands stuck firmly on the same spots, creating pools of sweat where your skin met.  

“Be careful, please. I-, I so sensitive.”

He would give himself away accidentally with a mumble of pleads.

A shudder and slight twitch of his hips, right before he tightened his grip to stop your actions.

The valleys of his short fingernails covered in the fabric of your shirt.

“Breathe, P. Deep.” you said, completely frozen.

As soon as you felt his breathing slow down for a couple of beats, you’d circle your hips again.

Trying to keep the groans at bay just grew the fire more it seemed.

Trying to keep himself locked, controlled, tamed.

It drained his energy, throwing all of it in the burning of his pelvis.

Pyotr knew he had to store his embarrassment away in order to enjoy.

In order to…live. 

He had begun to grow tired of his shyness. 

Tired of it in the lockerroom, watching his teammates joke around without him.

Tired of it on the ice, the sounds of hands pounding on the ice as he skated by, eyes stuck on the ice moving underneath him.

And tired of it taking over the space he had created with you. 

Some things were just... ruined by it.

And within all of this grinding, all of this puffing, the absurdity began to overtake him.

How much this bondage had been self-imposed.

His team wanted to be with him, his fans wanted to love him and it became quite obvious now that the woman he was holding wanted to be with him.

The way that he was.

It was all of his differences in, well, everything, that could bring it all together somehow. 

He just didn't know how.

"Shit" he moaned, increasingly louder now. "Shit."

He wanted to let himself go. At least for once.  

“Let’s take a break” you huffed.

Pyotr nodded, even though it felt too much.

It was all too much.

If you moved, if you didn't move. 

He didn't know how he was going to let it all be.

All he knew is how badly he wanted to, seeing you short of breath and glowing in front of him.

It felt unbearable to have you sit here like this, but this was all he had wanted since he first saw you. 

“Do you want to take your shirt off?” you asked.

“Maybe, I can.” he said. 

Why not? he thought. He’d made it this far.

Pyotr undressed, and watching you trail your eyes down his body jostled his cock really hard.

His v lines cramping with glee.

Thankfully he still had his pants on to cover that up.

“Can…can I take my shirt off too? Only if-”

“Yes, please.” he interrupted you, taking his hands to the hem of your crop top to swiftly pull it off. Seeing you shirtless didn’t help his desire cool down in any way. 

Panicked, Pyotr lounged forward, locking his lips with yours. 

“I-is okay?” he asked.

"It's all I've wanted." you said, meeting him again.

Opening your mouth simultaneously, tongues meeting in a wave of spit and wetness.

The kiss becoming a magnet to your chests, colliding as he turned his head to moan deeper into your mouth.

He wanted to beg, he wanted to push you away, knowing how he would soon react to this feverish kiss, but there was no going back now.

There never was.

The only way was forward.

He pushed his hips up, bucking into you and sending you both up and down on the couch with a jump.

All he could hear was the sloppy sounds of your kisses, the sharp inhale in between, and the symphony of moaning you were creating.

His eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Oh, fuck, oh, oh.” Pyotr started breathing heavily, more than ever before.

Breathing each other's inhales as you rubbed faster. Harder. Uncontrollably.

“Baby I-, oh, oh, fuck, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.”

You didn't react, you didn't stop as Pyotr's body tensed, his eyelids closed shut as you kept kissing his now still lips.

He groaned faintly as he felt his clothes sop up the warm cum.

Heaven mixed with embarrassment, betrayal and oxytocin running through his synapses.

He came down as you slowed down your hips, still pecking at his face.

One glance at the grey fabric now darkening under you was enough to call a sliver of shame back into him.

“I said to you this happened. Fuck, I am so sorry, Y/N.” he uttered.

“You’re making my shorts wet.” you giggled into his skin. “Even wetter than before.”

“I said, me, uh, fuck, and look, it happened.”

You both let out a deep breath.

One of you out of frustration and the other out of excitement.

“It’s okay, right?” you said, slightly pinching the top of his cheek and running your fingers through his hair. You swore that he leaned into it. 

The worst had happened.

He mostly felt like disappearing, a mix of emotions swirling within him.

He knew your friendship was never going to be the same, whether for good or bad, and that this just complicated the emotions he had for you ten fold.

Pyotr studied your face.

Scanning for disgust, anger, disappointment… for that look that would change everything.

But he couldn’t find it. 

He thought he must be dreaming. Your rosy cheeks staring back at him. 

“Yeah, yeah. I guess it’s fine.” he smiled weakly, but genuinely. 

Pyotr’s chest felt warm as he kept his eyes on you.

And all he saw in you was…

Happiness.

Playfulness. 

It couldn’t be true. 

The acceptance spread all throughout him.

Maybe he could take a second to bask in it. Just one.

“Must feel uncomfortable in there.” you said, placing your fingertips on his waistband. He ran his fingers through his hair, still not believing what was happening as he blinked at the ceiling for a beat.

“I-, I mean, yeah.” he chuckled, knowing where you were going already.

Pyotr watched you longingly as you jumped up.

Perky as ever.

You tugged at his sweats, pulling them down and placing yourself back on his thighs. 

Pyotr’s thick cock, covered in cum, sprung out, much to your shock. 

Making your chest heave.

“P, you’re still hard.” you said, before he could rethink the decision basically let you gawk at him in such a state.

“Yes, sometimes, uh, stay like that after. For men, normal.” he sighed.

You flicked his forehead before raising your hands at him. 

“Oh! Why do that for?” he said, eyes peeled at you in shock.

“You don’t want to keep going?”

Oh.

oh.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, his confidence returning at full speed. He suddenly scrambled to undo the button of your shorts, pulling them down with your sopped panties and tossing them aside. 

Before you could even think about anything else, you sank on his cock in one swift motion, a whimper ripping out of you.

He had moved so fast that it took him a couple seconds to take in the sight of you naked, let alone how you felt on his cock.

“Fuck, shit.” he yelled.

Yes, yelled. In a deep, growly voice.

“I definitely didn’t teach you those words.” you joked, eyes still closed as you tried to adjust to him in every way.

Pyotr laughed, harder than he thought he could. The facade dropping so effortlessly. 

This was the how.

It was all less serious than he thought it had to be all this time. 

And it wasn't the culture, it wasn’t the language, it was you.

You were that person, the only one that could make him feel this way. 

And fuck it, if he had this moment with you he was going to enjoy it. 

Finally, letting go.

Pyotr kept laughing, a deep belly laugh as he wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his hand.

Two looks at you and he readjusted his hands on your back, throwing you on the couch with one swift motion.

Never pulling out of you, never moving away more than a few inches. 

“Я думаю, ты мне действительно нравишься” he panted, his shoulderblades kissing each other as he began pulling out slowly until his tip touched the edge of your entrance.

“English, P.” you moaned as he snickered. 

Seeing your brows furrow into pleasure as a smirk grew on your face made him twitch involuntarily, throwing himself deep into your wet cunt again.

Pyotr felt ecstatic, the rush of pleasure and endorphins climbing up his spine as he shook his head. He leaned down, his biceps flexing as he brought his smile into yours. 

This was it.

No more containing, no more holding back. He wanted to melt into you. He wanted to let himself go into this place, this moment in time that somehow ended up being you wrapped around him and purring his name. 

He moved slowly, his thrusts precise, assuring full contact every time he topped you full.

He could finally decelerate and lose himself in the velvety feel of your touch.

“How you call this?” he said, his lips moving across the skin of your neck now. 

“Neck.” you whispered.

Pyotr opened his mouth and attached himself to your neck, nipping at the skin. Leaving a string of bites, accompanying each one with a wet kiss on top.

Blood vessels breaking one by one with the burst of your moaning. 

“And this?” he asked again, as his lips ran lower, feeling your throat tighten with a gulp.

“Collarbone.” you whimpered. 

He was managing to keep his tongue steady as he ran it across your collarbone, lapping up the sweat and flavor of you as he kept thrusting inside you.

Patiently, each movement of his colliding with your hips, your bodies exchanging dampness. 

Pyotr licked, and bit, and kissed, and pecked, all within the ondulations of his body, ramming deeply into yours. 

“Tell me name of this.” he said once again, his swollen lips tracing the shell of your ear.

"Ear, P."

He ran his tongue across the shell, around, even making contact with your hair.

He wanted to have all of you, he wanted to taste every single square of your body.

He wanted to memorize your feel, your smell. All of your corner.

His fingers tightened against the fabric of the couch as he felt beads of sweat travel down his knuckles as your pussy clenched more and more around him.

He could see out of the corner of his eye your eyelashes fluttering.

“Name of this.” he said as he placed his fingers on your clit. “Tell me what you call.”

Pyotr’s eyes locked with yours, the deep amber of his pupils now darkened with lust. 

He wanted to see you twitch and quiver as closely as possible, despite his own desire and thrill clouding his vision.

He wanted to swallow every single one of your moans and gasps.

“Tell me what you call.” he repeated, his fingers moving and pressing down, drawing sloppy circles on your cunt, your back arching towards him.

You could feel his abs working overtime as your soft belly touched his.

“Can’t get jokes out now, hmm.” he chuckled, his eyes running across your frame as it began to tighten, your fingers grasping for dear life onto his back now.

After a long period of celibacy, his hours spent in front of a net or passed out in his bed recovering, Pyotr had kept his fantasies locked away as best as he could. Yet, he knew he could never keep them fully at bay.

He never thought it was going to be you. And yet, it was so obvious now that it could have not been anyone else. 

“And you?” he groaned. You could still hear his first climax lingering in the deepening of his voice. “How I call you?”

His tone, his piercing eyes snapping you out of your haze.

The way he fucked you so perfectly timed, so narrow, reliably letting you unravel like putty in his hands.

You were so, so close.

“Me?” you asked, breathless and confused. 

“You.” he said. “So beautiful”

"Oh, P." you whimpered sweetly. Your voice caught at the top of your throat as you began to reach the peak.

Pyotr had felt like he had been on the edge of exploding for hours now too, the overstimulation not allowing him the release he craved so badly.

His sanity hanging on by the cliff that he felt crumbling, little by little, in the deepest pits of him. The fire growing, flames growing as your silky skin started to melt into his. 

“котенок, то, как ты мурлычешь для меня.”

“kitten, the way you purr for me” he growled. “That’s how I call, huh?”

Your trembles reverberating across your skin, sending shocks to his system as you let yourself fall into your orgasm.

“д��, да, да”

“yes, yes, yes” he said, watching you. He groaned deeper, his voice resounding in a place in his chest he didn’t even know existed. The louder he spoke, the more words, the tighter the knot in his belly became. 

Your figure tightened, joints locking as you saw stars.

All you could feel was Pyotr's chain moving above you.

His body felt like one with yours.

“So pretty” he continued, his words coated in his thick accent. "baby, fuck. fuck." 

Pyotr's growl echoed throw the apartment as he let his eyes fully roll back and he let go. His hips twitched uncontrollably now, his cock thrusting at its own rate until he slammed deeply into you, moving all of his cum between you two.

He let his hands soften as the rest of his muscles followed, his big frame falling on top of you piece by piece. His wet hair tickling your scalp somehow.

Fully intertwined.

Breathing matched again.

In all of your glory.

He wanted to leave his face into your neck forever, just as much as you wanted his body smashed against you again and again and again.

“See?” you laughed. “That went well.”

Pyotr buried his face deeper into you as he laughed, finding the strength to eventually roll onto his side just to admire you, all sweaty and heaving.

He felt himself blush an even deeper shade of red as he caught the sight of your body, marked with his presence.

Handprints, marks from his grip, the shimmer of his cum covering the inside of your thighs.

“Uh, sorry, left, uh, spot. There.” he said, suddenly feeling bashful again in his afterglow. "And there, too."

"That's okay. I really like them." you smiled. “Now you can go on as many dates as you want, P.”

“No” he smirked, his eyes fixated on your lips.

“No?” you asked, matching his smirk.

“No date.” he said, inching closer to you. Pyotr slid his hand behind your ear, his fingers in your hair. “Only date with you.”

He leaned in and kissed you deeper than he thought he had all night.

“This? Fun. But no, I serious now. Take date. Tomorrow.”

[imsiriuslyreading]

there's this weird little thing that happens when you're in a fandom community like this, I'm learning. occasionally, people make odd assumptions about you, particularly if you're someone who puts your face on your socials (hello its me I'm the silly sod who did that), and no matter what your actions or your words do, its secured in their mind that that's the truth and that's how it is. which is like, fair, obviously. but its like, unnerving? i don't know how else to explain that.

there's also this phenomenon where people get close really quickly, more quickly than in other spaces I've been in, and I'm not sure why that happens. maybe it's because when we're getting to know someone, it's born out of a love and passion for this shared hobby/obsession we have. and I'll be so real, when you meet through fanfiction, there are certain parts of you that are just on display from the get go by the nature of sharing what you read and write. so its pretty hard to hide some of the dark and scary parts of yourself after that's already been out there on display. perhaps that's how people get so close so quickly. as a result, when fallouts happen or there's disagreements, or you start to realise that hey, actually, this person I thought was *this* way actually isn't and I'm not sure I like who they really are. which is natural, obviously, but like when it happens here, it sort of hits harder, because you still share this space and so many people with that person, so it gets so tricky to navigate.

i'm still trying to figure that out, I think. there have been a few occasions over the last few weeks that have made me want to step away from fandom, to take a break and just go back to reading my favourite stories about my favourite werewolf and his punky lil husband on my own. but then I get a message from a fandom friend or a fandom stranger and its so kind and so lovely that I'm reminded that mostly, it's very positive and good-natured here. and every single day I find new writers to frantically inhale all of their works, or artists to obsess over. i see something and it makes me want to take a photo and send it to someone because it reminded me of their fic or a thought they shared on here or tiktok or whatever. or I'll see the people in my group chat come together and help one of our friends when they need it the very most, only for the favour to be returned in a couple of weeks.

for every disappointment I've found, there have been 10 instances of positivity and beauty and I think that's definitely something worth holding on to.

anyway this ramble is just me reminding myself to touch grass occasionally, to remember that people who have miserable things to say about me don't actually know all that much about me at all, and that this fandom has been the key to figuring out parts of myself I would've stayed utterly ignorant to without it. it's also been a complete safe haven to hide away from all of the scary parts of the world right now.

that being said, october as a marauders fan is a fucking horror show, I am on my knees screaming and begging for happy edits, fics and art because some of you are just far too talented at this whole sad boi thing. help.

[quibble-auk]

Transformer OC lore!

Previous

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil I’m so sorry. I was gonna make more fluff but… yeah.

I actually don’t have a reason for writing this. But I had fun, got to write some angst instead of working on the next part of the Pre-war plot. And since I still can’t decide on what time I’m going to focus on I’m just going over parts I already have lol.

This would probably be more impactful if I waited until later… but I wrote it now so enjoy.

Forget Me Not’s are such a small flower, huh?

WARNINGS!!!: there is a lot of angst. Loss of self? Girlie is literally getting torn soft? It’s not very visually descriptive tho.

Sunrazor felt herself tearing apart at the seams. Everything burned.

Her processors screamed, suffocating under raw, unsorted data. It was everywhere, all at once, eating away at her thoughts. Her pain receptors burned like a wildfire. Restraints dug into her plating, leaving her at the mercy of the figures that loomed above. New directives and foreign coding pressed upon the edges of her processor, suffocating her.

Machines forced her breath steady.

Her systems buzzed erratically, fighting against the invasive code that tried to rewrite everything she had known. Protection, loyalty, and service had been directives hardcoded into her core. They had never faltered before, they were steadfast and unwavering—until now. Now, those bonds were being twisted, restructured, manipulated into something foreign, hostile, and wrong.

The mental strain was unbearable. Every thought was hazy and distorted. Sunrazor struggled to process everything, all of the data being thrust upon her along with the assault on her processor. Had it not been for the large fans basting cold air on her from above there was no doubt she would have overheated from stress by now.

Torrent’s commands seeped in like poison, twisting her thoughts until she couldn’t tell where she ended and the code began. It was maddening. She should know what was her and what was not. Sunrazor couldn’t fight back without the risk of damaging herself even more.

I protect.

The phrase burned in her mind, a mantra that had once been her foundation. Protect her charge. Protect Valkyrie. Protect the others. Protect. Protect. But there was a new command—no, a new truth—whispering louder with each passing moment.

Obey.

She recoiled internally, her processor screaming in protest as the word burrowed deeper into her subconscious. It fought to override her instincts, forcing her to abandon everything she had been built to believe in. What little was left of her plating shuttered and pressed against herself. A whine died in her throat as her systems reminded her that her vocalizer had been disabled.

Every flicker of a memory, every familiar thread of her past, was being systematically erased, overwritten by the cold, calculating order of compliance. All of the soft and gentle moments of before seemed to crackle and fade, empty static replacing them.

Evenings spent surrounded by the others—Powercase, Blight, Torque, Rapidstrike, Viliglox, Brimstone—all piling on top of eachother to recharge or watch a film. Watching the gardeners tend to the plants. Learning to dance with Valkyrie. All of it threatened to disappear like they had never mattered in the first place.

Sunrazor wanted to scream.

She didn’t want to forget. They could take her body and her mind and repurpose it for whatever they wanted. She didn’t care if they tore her apart only to rebuild her a thousand times over. But she didn’t want to forget. Not them. Anything but that. She wanted to beg that they leave the memories it tact, to let her remember.

Torrent’s onslaught of coding remained merciless and unwavering. His mental assault became even more focused once it had discovered the weakness. It attacked the very thing her fraying mind was struggling to latch onto. The more he reprogrammed her, the harder it became to remember why she fought in the first place.

Valkyrie.

Her mind screamed the name, the image of her conjunx flaring in her thoughts like a bright light trying to pierce through the fog. Her Conjunx, her world. She was everything. It was a lifeline, something to hold onto, a thread of who she had been. She had to fight for her. Valkyrie needed her. She needed Sunrazor to protect her.

But the moment the image formed, it was shattered by a cascade of new instructions. Forget her. She is irrelevant. You are mine.

Pain seared through her processor and body alike. It threatened to melt her plating and make her paint blister and peel. Sunrazor was open and exposed. They were touching and tearing and ripping her. They did not leave a single part of her unscathed, mentally or physically. It hurt. She wanted them to stop. Why wouldn’t they stop? Could they not hear her—

She needed to stay focused on not forgetting, not losing. Her body didn’t matter, they could have it. They could use it for whatever they needed it for. What mattered was the memories, Valkyrie.

FORGET HER.

OBEY.

Sunrazor’s processor burned with the conflicting commands. Forget—Remember—Obey—Fight. The harder she fought to hold onto the memories, the more they slipped away. They wilted and shriveled under her iron grip like delicate flowers.

Each time she clung to them, something inside her screamed in protest. Every time she let go of the memories something else screeched and recoiled. There was no winning. Conflicting orders tore at her mind in a constant maddening game of tug-of-war.

Forget, but don’t forget.

The new directives pressed against her thoughts like an unrelenting weight. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold it before she finally gave out. Her memories of Valkyrie and the others flickered and twisted, turning into nothing more than ghosts of a life she could no longer grasp.

Was it even her life to begin with? Were these Sunrazor’s memories or were they just fantasies her mind had created? Did these people actually exist? Or had her mind bore them into existence just to give her something to hold onto? Did the memories belong to Torrent?

No, he was trying to erase them. They couldn’t be his. They belonged to Sunrazor, they were from before. The memories were of real people. People she cared about. Valkyrie was real, she had to be. She was real and Sunrazor loved her more than anything. And Valkyrie was counting on her to come back to…

What was it she was meant to do?

Protect.

Yes, that’s what it was. Sunrazor was a guardian. She was built to protect. Valkyrie was counting on her to protect her. She had to protect—

No, Obey.

That was right. She needed to obey. To listen—

No. That was Torrent. Not Sunrazor. She didn’t have to listen, she didn’t have to obey, Valkyrie had shown her that. There was more to life than just serving. She was worth something, something more than just her body and labor. She could be more.

Torrent was helping her become more. She should listen to Torrent. He had promised to help Sunrazor become enough. He was going to make her become more so she could… she could… Protect. That's it. So she could protect Valkyrie.

So, why was he trying to make Sunrazor forget?

Every memory was tainted, every instinct questioned. Her very being was under siege. Sunrazor was designed to be loyal, to be unshakable. But loyal to who? Who was she meant to listen to when they both demanded different things? How was she expected to obey when Valkyrie and Torrent couldn’t agree on what she was meant to do?

Sunrazor was loyal to her conjunx—the word seemed to sting within her processor—not to Torrent. She needed to remember, not to forget. She didn’t want to forget, she wanted to remember. She had to remember who Sunrazor was.

Sunrazor was a guardian, she worked in towers as a sentry. She had a family of six other guardians, they were safe, they were her home. She couldn’t remember their names. She had a Conjunx, her name was Valkyrie. Sunrazor liked the rain and the stars. She liked it when her post was in the gardens so she could… She didn’t remember why the gardens were important. Sunrazor wanted to board a starship and explore the countless worlds that lay beyond. She wanted to because… because… Why did she want to see them again?

It was becoming difficult to recall who she had been before.

The person she had been, the protector, the loyal guardian—was she gone already? Could she even fight this anymore? She had lost track of what was hers and what belonged to them. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could resist what Torrent was shoving into her processor. It hurt to fight it, everything hurts.

She couldn’t move or scream and Sunrazor just wanted them to stop. There was too much. The pain, the data her sensors were picking up, the invasive coding, the harsh lights. The sensations of them tearing her apart—rearranging her—to become something she’s not. It hurt.

Primus, it hurt.

In the midst of the agony, there was a moment of clarity. For a second the damaged and jumbled coding that was her processor seemed to make sense. A brief flicker of what she had been. Valkyrie’s face. The warmth of her presence. The promise to protect her, to stand by her side no matter the cost.

A surge. More than obedience—defiance. The final embers of who she was.

I protect.

The directive that they had implemented tried to smother it. Their commands tried to extinguish it before it was able to settle. But for a moment, just a moment, Sunrazor was able to cling to it. She fought against the torrent of control that was being forced into her mind. Her internal systems shook, her frame shuddering with the strain, but she resisted.

She lay trapped on the cold table, tied down, voice stolen, her mind carved apart like she was nothing. Sunrazor might have no control of what was happening or what she was becoming. She may have been at their mercy. The assaulting programming might have been overwhelming and she may have been losing. But she wasn’t gone yet.

Not completely.

But even as the last threads of her identity flickered and fought, she could feel the inevitable coming. How much longer could she hold out before the reprogramming overwhelmed her entirely? How much longer before there was nothing left of Sunrazor, the protector, and only the obedient shell remained?

She didn’t know. But she would keep fighting, keep trying, holding onto what she had been. Even if it was hopeless. Even if there was nothing left.

Sunrazor would keep fighting for her. She wouldn’t give up yet, not when she needed her.

Sunrazor just wished she could remember what her name was.

[flightfoot]

Any fic recs where Hawk Moth captures one of the heroes?

...I'm gonna assume that enemies au don't count? Honestly there really aren't very many.

Some Days by @merrygreenie

Some days are worse, and others are a little better, little by little and day by day. Marinette Dupain-Chen is learning how to live her new normal after living in confinement and being tortured by Hawkmoth. She is thankful to have her friends and family to support her. And a very special Chat who loves her very much. *This story contains scenes of violence and torture this is a whump fic*

---

Between the Heavens and the Embers by @readersmoon

Everyone in Paris remembers the fateful night of January 16, when the city was attacked by the most powerful and destructive akuma ever created. The assault, which lasted for hours, resulted in the death of 439 people.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was among the casualties.

Years later, Adrien hasn't been able to move on, haunted by the memories of her broken body. So, when the opportunity to leave Paris for a while presents itself, he doesn't hesitate. But this trip might end up giving him more than he ever dreamt of.

This is a fantastic fic, though a serious and a dark one - make sure to mind the tags, and it’s M-rated for a reason. Vee - or rather, Marinette - is going through a horror story here. Imagine finding out that your life is a lie, that everyone you thought you could trust was manipulating you, that you were just being continually gaslit for years. 

As for Adrien, Alya, and Nino... well, none of them took Marinette’s “death” all that well, especially Adrien. Finding out that she’s been alive all this time, in these horrible circumstances, and they had no clue... it’s hard on them as well.

I love how this fic goes into how much trauma everyone has even after the immediate danger’s dealt with, you don’t just walk off this kind of experience, especially with how many years this lasted.

---

Soul Seeker by hislittlelady

After a shooting on her 6th birthday, Marinette Dupain-Cheng died. She was brought to the afterlife by her grandmother. She was content. Until the paramedics did their jobs and suddenly she wasn’t dead anymore. Waking up to find that half of her soul had remained tethered to the afterlife, allowing her the ability to see things others can’t, Marinette grows up an outcast. It isn’t until she moves in with her only friend, a detective she’s known since preschool, that she finds her purpose, solving his harder cases with the help of her spiritual connections. Three years later, she’s thriving. Her own business, two best friends, a K-9 drop out as a companion- life couldn’t get better. Until she meets Chat. A ghost with amnesia and a mask to match, Chat isn’t sure what he needs to move on to the afterlife (and, considering he’s stuck around for another three years, he doesn’t seem in all that much of a hurry to figure it out either!) When Amelie Agreste, a socialite from out of town, comes to Marinette for help locating her missing nephew, Marinette knows her career and her life will be on the line. But even a murderer intent on silencing her forever can’t keep Marinette from seeking the truth.

This is a really fun detective story. You can probably guess one or two of the major twists (not counting the twist of "Adrien is Chat Noir" which I certainly HOPE isn't a spoiler to anyone reading this), but that doesn't make it any less satisfying, especially with how Marinette's and Chat's relationship is developed. Or well, what interactions we see from them, since they've known each other for years by the time the story starts. I adore the "my friend is a ghost" trope, and the identity shenanigans and mystery around what actually happened to Adrien kept me wondering.

It's an M-rated fic, which I'm guessing is mostly due to an attempted sexual assault at one point in the story, though it doesn't get very far before it's stopped. I also want to warn Luka fans that he's not shown in the best light in this fic, though it's not too extreme.

[sleepy-achilles]

Gonna do taker first because I already have the base of it down to a t. (Obviously not going into all the details as I wanna do fics off some stuff eventually)

Athena and Thomas were an arrange marriage to join the two lands that now form Death Valley. It never gained that name until years later.

They were actually lucky, their parents wanted to break the pattern of war and destruction so introduced them young, allowed them to meet up every year. So, they fell in love by the time they got married.

Thomas was an amazing carpenter and builder and built them a Manor that over looked the whole village. Athena helped around the village, bringing food to the builders, helping to teach the children when they waited for the school. The pair were loved by the citizens.

Athena had firery red hair and bright green eyes. Thomas had curly brown hair and ocean blue eyes.

Athena was over the moon when their first born acquired her eyes and hair. Thomas couldn't care, he was in love.

Athena was quick to teach taker the ways of the valley whilst Thomas taught him the ways of the family business, the funeral home. The funeral home in which Thomas employed his long time friend Paul Bearer. Athena liked Paul, he appreciated the magic of the valley, but she didn't trust him. Especially not around her baby.

Some dodgy things go down and a few months later kane is born.

Thomas knows the truth. Athena made sure. They both decide neither kane or taker need to know and Paul is no longer apart of the company.

The boys continue to grow, learning the magic of the valley and the work ethics of the business.

One night, a teen taker runs some tasks for his father before going out with his friends.

He's having a good night until they arrive at the tree on the hill and taker spots the flames soaring through his home and races home.

Taker stands infront of his house in shock and horror as the fires burn. He does spot the fat man making his way from around the back of the house. He doesn't spot much for a few years to be honest.

He makes it his mission to rebuild the house, but for that he needs money.

Paul becomes his legal guardian, which he never questions, just assumed his father put it in the will.

He works harder than ever, becomes a wrestler and rebuilds the house.

He meets Shawn michaels and his life begins to brighten.

Lack of memories but his kids end up named Leon Thomas Michaels and Cassidy Athena Michaels and they end up growing up surrounded by the spirits of their ancestors.

One of them gains a bit more than a name, one of them ends up more supernatural.

Taker always believed it was just because of his stance in the world by the time Leon was born. Little does he know its because of his mother.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Shawns turn. (Imma hate this.)

Shawns father is a military man. His mother is a stay at home mom. He has two brothers and one sister and is the youngest of them. All of them followed in the footsteps of their parents. All of them but one.

When twelve year old Shawn told his parents he wants to be a wrestler his father looses his head and his mother cries. Shawn spent that week locked away in his room. Alone. Listening to his family laugh and joke.

Shawn grew close to another wrestling fan, Kenny. He would hide away at Kenny House as much as he could. They'd practice wrestling together and just watch old shows.

Shawn watched all his siblings go off to either military or to start a family. And then he started getting military pressures.

Which is when he started partying. And which was when he hooked up with his first female and only.

She ended up pregnant and shawn ended up with a kid and on the streets. Which is how he met Jose who took him in and introduced him to the world of wrestling. Shawn begins to rise quick and make sure his kid has the childhood he didn't.

He meets taker who John takes to immediately.

He has a whole new family. New father figures, mother's, brothers and sisters. A life little Shawn would of loved. A life he dreamed of.

Little does he know his siblings watch him every chance with their kids. Their kids love watching uncle Shawn. They just have no way of contacting Shawn anymore.

Shawns parents turned up too a few shows but after backstage arguments they never turn up to any others. They erase any proof Shawn michaels ever existed in their home.

He's had enough practice by the time Leon and cassie came along. We'll. Not Leon. Nothing could prepare him for a demon child.

Edit- shawns siblings have names now. In age order.

Beau Michaels (brother)

Jenny Michaels (sister)

Sonny Michaels (Brother)

[aeoki]

Sandstorm - Epilogue 3

Location: Chuugoku Region Qualifiers Stage Characters: Hinata, Yuuta, Adonis, Kouga, Kaoru & Rei

Kaoru: Hehe. But well, everyone had it pretty rough this time around, so I’m glad we’re all feeling motivated.

I think it’s impossible for us to turn the tables around from where we currently are, but if you say we can, Rei-kun, then I get this strange feeling that it’s actually achievable.

Adonis: Yeah. Sakuma-senpai has always been reliable.

Kouga: Hmph! It’s way too late to be motivated, ya know! You two seniors are always like this! Won’t you guys ever learn!?

Rei: ………… *Ignores Kouga and looks away*

Kouga: Hey, stop that. I bet you think it’s funny that I get upset everytime I get ignored, right!?

Kaoru: Ahaha, isn’t it nice that you have a new trademark routine?

Adonis: Yeah. Let’s try to see things on the positive side, Oogami.

Yuuta: I don’t really care what you guys are going on about, but please get to work~ The performance has already started, you know~?

Hinata: Ahaha. It’s been a while since they last saw each other, so they probably have a lot of things to talk about.

Yuuta: But even so, they should be doing that in the waiting room. Your fans were feeling pretty sad and lonely too, so don’t just keep the party within yourselves~

If you turn out to be useless, then maybe I’ll trick you guys and have you removed again~?

Kouga: Huuuh? You should stop getting a taste for that and snap outta that character. You just pretended to be evil to trick the management, right?

We know you’re a good kid deep down.

There might be people who’ll misunderstand and think you two are coldhearted and ruthless villains, so be careful!

Adonis: Yeah. You cannot entertain them if they fear you. And you won’t be able to get closer to the people you want to make happy. That’s a fact I know all too well.

So don’t make such a scary face and smile, Yuuta, Hinata.

Hinata: Huh~? I’m always smiling though~♪

Yuuta: Yeah, yeah. We’ll do what you say, senpai~ Since we’re a pair of obedient and good little kids in the end.

Kouga: …You fool.

Yuuta: Ow ow!? Don’t ruffle my hair like that, please! You brute! And I even had it styled all nicely!

Kouga: “~......♪”

Yuuta: And he just ignores me. Didn’t you mum teach you to treat others how you’d treat yourself?

Hinata: Ahaha. The one who taught us that was our dad, though.

Yuuta: He didn’t teach us anything – Just nagged us. The toxic parents always say not to cause trouble for other people, right?

“♪~♪~♪”

Hinata: Oh, geez. You care too much about dad, so it sounds as if you like him a lot instead~ …Yuuta-kun?

Kaoru: Hey, Hinata-kun.

Hinata: Hm? What’s up, paisen? Do you want a kiss or something? Oh my, my big brother’s watching, you know~!

Kaoru: You’re like Rei-kun and totally inconsistent in character, huh~

It’s fine though. Things are more fun when it’s harder.

Well, anyway…

Hinata: Woah, please don’t try to unsheath your sword! I know it’s just a prop, but it still scares me!

Kaoru: Heheh, I’m imitating what Souma-kun does~♪

Hinata: Yo, Japan! Kyaa~ Hakaze-senpai, you’re so cool~☆

Kaoru: …There’s something I wanna ask you, but is that okay with you?

Hinata: …What? Are you gonna lop my head off depending on how I answer?

Kaoru: Yuuta-kun was probably serious, right?

Hinata: …………

Kaoru: He seriously tried to crush us.

Adonis-kun and the others probably misinterpreted it in a positive way and as a result, they thought he was just acting like the bad guy.

But did things really end up that way?

Rei-kun obviously has a good sixth sense, but Adonis-kun and Kouga-kun are the opposite. They can’t read the room and don’t really think all that much.

Hinata: Woah, that’s harsh.

Kaoru: Yeah. It’s because they’re both so pure that they can always see the truth. They won’t ever miss the most important part.

So if Yuuta-kun’s real intention was to trick the management, then Kouga-kun and Adonis-kun would’ve been able to tell.

But as far as I’ve heard, they were really confused.

They seriously got angry at Yuuta-kun who had betrayed them and they were practically fists away from each other. That’s what Rei-kun told me.

I think Kouga-kun and Adonis-kun were angry about the fact that Yuuta-kun had seriously betrayed them. 

Yuuta-kun was serious about tricking us and as a result, he was accepted by the management…

And tried to use us as fodder to rise to a higher position.

Hinata: …………

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

[nightguide]

MY RIGHTS AS HUMAN CITIZEN PUBLISHING FOR SELF-CAREERS ONLY (HOLLYWOOD ARTS INDUSTRY BEING ONE WITH THE UK AS IT IS (NO PIRACY INVESTMENTS OF THE MIND: BOOKTOK REVEALS)

science fiction authors basing it off theorists in real life/ profits over sales: this is not your jurisdiction to finalise your words by cash quota to 'save face', obviously we all have faults, and it's you who's on the line if anything about admitting over a book cover final fantasy than my own than you being penned down as the main character/loserbitch of the sequence (everybody is watching you) so you're not easily swayed if i said the same about you if written down and your emotions cost my life into 'forgiving you' then get the fuck out of my sequence and leave yourself be, go touch grass

thought fantasies interlinking to fictional getaway purposes: you make me 'do it for you' = you feel refreshed in finding ways to get your eye on all over nothing (i don't act out my fantasy sequence on my own without you robbing it for cash cows (burn that last manuscript you wrote, it's actually piracy/transgressing my own personal life (not your property)

TV piloting: how much power you have there is nothing i can do, you make rappers do it for you and you're jealous that you're not being written/ or you're that bored into transpiring without 'noticing me' because i'm..... the main character or somebody's own hoax scheme for me to rely on (no free time) that you may care (obnoxiously amicable) that i don't forget what you did but 'you do?' go talk to your mother about your issues, i'm only mommy to myself and a few if i'm the intrusive burner thought in your fantasies to 'feel seen' like get a life, ffs

ARTIST SELF-IMPORTANCE: you making 'awareness' is me finding Sara Kays song in that one book, i'm not her. i enjoy your books but you making celebrities requite their experience is me working harder (your employees at a sweatshop in Bangladesh (moral humanties ethics compartment: Severance (dangerous TV show) is making me push you out to feel seen than you actually admitting all of what you know online that you don't care about (why? should i care about your opinion that has a lasting difference or that i should care because i am not f**king you in the streets like i usually do or that you're jealous because i know that one author i knew why their works are sincere on my impact to move on, yeah. get the fuck off you nosy imbreeding gomorrah homophobic gender-secluded claustrophobic self-aware guru nanak hostile measly angels you think you, you noticing a celebrity's downfall is your gossip to maintain your gollum looking ass on the seat requiting your worlds of primordial dissonance to cash type like Gods to find your audiences singing it for you, i'm a massive Demi fan and i hate your heart for not pushing the fanbase out the way so that i can talk, but what about we? there is not because i was trying to read until i saw you so we're dumped (find a new ex-best friend you can share your issues with (i'm reading Yellowface (someone won the bingo)

occults practice in the arts that may have crossed your line in alternative intuition pygmallion (your doing): MBTI is astrology of this world and i backed myself up to become an author of a project i work alone for and you ruined my life (UFO's don't exist) pretty good right now to study conspiracy theories or, well again. look into Evan Nathaniel Grim's video's on Youtube like a normal human being, or that the word 'human' isn't i anymore if i know that you use your fanbase to 'find yourselves' again however terminally ill you feel (i'm not physically there to geriatrically soften your meticulous kaleidoscope you call your ears for a living, you're evil to my own home right now and thousands + don't know you exist in truth because you think i live in Mecca, Saudi Arabia to justify your reasons of ownership (your hypocrisy) so i don't fucking care and neither should you, either quit typing or just learn basic moral principles of social rule (why you suck at living)

of the arts that are visibly seen to your nature and your existence/using religion in books that soften your arts into thinking like a 'woman': you may care that you notice Veronica Sawyer energy about me (Heathers) and i knew why (your mortal devices ruined)

[the-things-ive-seen]

Yozakura-san Chi no Daisakusen/Mission: Yozakura Family

That weird Anime I didn't like.

I was actually planning to avoid making any reviews or commentary about animes or eastern media in general, since I would have to describe every decision that was over the top, unrealistic, cliche to the point of direct copying, racist, homophobic, pedophilic, too much fan-service, too much pedophilic fan-service, or just flat-out incest that a show has before describing the actual content of the show. Anime is a slippery slope of entertainment, heavily mingled with controversy in the name of cultural representation. That, and hentai is more popular with western fans, so talking about any series that isn't One Piece or Dragon Ball feels pointless.

But Mission: Yozakura Family stuck out to me, mainly because it looked like a series trying to compete for an afternoon Cable Channel Time Slot. It's a weird show that I enjoyed a little bit at first before it eventually wore down my patience. What little respect was drained away as more episodes came and went, with some of my own self-respect disappearing as well, since I started to feel like I was watching a little kids show instead of fun spy comedy.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Mission: Yozakura Family is about a guy who marries a teenage girl, (there's that common anime cliche I mentioned), and becomes a part of her legendary mercenary family, and as a consequence, a part of a larger world of assassins and spies. In order to protect his wife and find out the truth what happened to original family, the main character trains to be a bodyguard and helps out the Yozakuras in missions and security.

It's an interesting plot, some decent visuals, and the main character is also a teenager, so I can feel less gross about his wife being underage. If this were made by someone else, I can guarantee this would be about a generic 30-year old man banging his daughter wife while yelling about how he's the son of the greatest assassin that ever lived and he can feel that talent in his blood. Stuff like that turns people away from this type of TV, and makes casually reviewing anime borderline impossible, since here will always be that one scene from the show stuck in your head.

For me, that scene is Taiyou Asano trying to shoot someone for being gay, but that's just me.

Oddly enough, this isn't what pushed me away from the series, although it served a finishing blow to my patience.

I mentioned earlier that this series was a fun spy comedy. Well, it's certainly fun, but it lacks in the comedy department, leaning more heavily on straight-man comedy routines. I won't say it doesn't meet the average for comedy, in an anime at least. However, one of the downsides to having a straight-man character serve as the protagonist is that you get pretty tired of hearing their opinions after a while. You would think someone living in an unusual situation would try harder to brush off any strangeness they come across. And to his credit, Asano does grow and adjust to these problems, learning to tackle new situations he comes across. I suppose it's just hard to appreciate this growth with a character who was and is literally cardboard printout before and afterwards. No preferences, no interests, just an everyman who is willing (forced, really) into marrying the girl he likes and becoming her reluctant bodyguard. Well, as long he's blindly determined, he'll never lose audience appeal.

As for the plot, the main plot at least, the main villains of the series are... (you'd have never guessed), ...Eugenic supremacists!

I may have forgot to mention that this anime, or rather every single anime I've ever watched or briefly saw, are huge eugenics supporters, (at least in terms of fiction, I can presume). Basically, if someone ever disliked a character trait of your own, they'll probably say you were born with it or that people like themselves do not have those traits and are financially better off because of it. There are thousands of douchebags who will insist they are rich and famous because their family is of "good blood", and that's why you should sleep with them.

cough, cough, (generational incel), cough.

The Yozakura family is so good at mercenary stuff because of this "good blood" and the blue haired girl has the most "good blood" and will give birth to the best children. That's why the genetics supremacists need to fight with Yozakura's, and Asuna needs to save them, and rape-y implications and blah blah blah.

Look, my problem with the plot is that the more the mystery unravels, the less I want to see what the final bullet point in this list is. I haven't mentioned Mutsumi Yozakura much because originally, I was going to say this series treats her like a plot device mommy stage director (try dissecting how I reached that conclusion), but I realized that the reason why I have an issue with this series also ties to her too. The entire series literally revolves around her, but it's all too obvious how she has so little of anything to do or really can't help out when everyone's in a pinch, (unless there's a convenient button nearby). She can't fight, she can't spy, she can't make clever plans; all she does is micromanage. Oh, and cheerlead, as most anime wives do. She's so inconsequential that the bad guys only want her DNA, or her babies, whichever is considered fan-service. I genuinely believe Mutsumi is not the main character of the show, and she's not. Taiyou is, with his oh so interesting dead parents' backstory.

Finally, the main reason why this series gets on my nerves. To reiterate, I was fine with leaving this alone, but I just couldn't pinpoint why I had an issue with this show. the characters are a tad one note, but they're not robots. The plot makes Sailor Moon look like literature, but it's not abysmal or the focus half the time. The comedy missed an opportunity with better slapstick, but I did laugh sometimes. I just couldn't stand another minute of it though. And now I know why.

Flanderization.

Taiyou Asano, living with mercenaries and training to become a bodyguard for the birthing hips princess, uses a gun. This gun shoots special non-lethal bullets that electrocute people on contact, although sometimes multiple bullets are required. This is a special one-of-a-kind gun that can incapacitate anyone without- ...What do you mean by stun gun? No, it's not a taser, its a pistol that electrocutes people at short distances. Clearly, you know nothing about the spy world...

...Is a statement that would've worked before Fast and Furious Ten was released in theaters. At this point, we've all seen enough spy crap to call BS on someone faking their way through a pitch meeting. It's not a huge issue that the Yozakura Family are a group of cartoon spies living in a looney tunes mercenary world straight out of a third graders imagination. It's not supposed to be an issue, at least. I think, at some point, the need to have cool-looking and/or quirky characters over having interesting international spy techniques and methods crossed a line where fun became lazy and comedic became insulting.

For example, the white Loli character is super strong, with the strength lift serval boulders and large furniture. This is hand waved as a martial art she practices. She's also the oldest one in the family and over 18 because I'm starting to think I hate anime. Next, is the hacker, who can turn her entire hacking progress into a video game and if she wins the game then she'll be inside the mainframe. I think not too many developers like this series. Then there's Mutsumi's brother, Kyoichiro, who doesn't seem to any real ability other than 'uses wires' and teleporting. He's also a complete psycho that everyone puts up with because "they may be trying to kill you, but you need to respect them because their family." He's the one who kickstarts the plot, by the way, due to his possessiveness of Mutsumi. Gotta mark that Sis-con checkbox.

I think the final straw for me was in episode 9 when I had to watch the triplets use magic attacks to fight the samurai spy, and the guy "cut through it" to beat them. I'm dead serious. The cartoon spy crap I can put up with, but there's supposed to be a limit for a reason. If I'm watching dipshits throw elemental weapons without rhyme or reason, AFTER a guy carrying a Katana slices through four floors of concrete beneath him, beneath him for fucks sake, then I'm not even watching a Spy anime.

I think the point of all this is that the anime is trying to embrace that silly world of spies and ninja's we once saw when we were kids and depict it brilliantly with its shonen budget animation. In my opinion, it embraced it a little too much and now I'm struggling to watch series that is too childish to have anything to do with the rugged, dark world of spies and assassins, but is somehow way to graphic and bloody to be for a younger demographic. This is definitely 10+ in Japan, 13+ in America.

God, anime is weird. Well, there's a 50-50 chance this is propaganda, so let that be the takeaway from this.

[nicestpamkale]

Hadley - This-Or-That

The Questions

I dunno, felt like doing something while working up the nerve to write a thing.

Coffee or tea?

Tea - But more specifically she prefers more fruity teas with softer but sweeter flavors.

Hot or Cold?

Cold - She’s not a big fan of fire, as fire is quite destructive. And she can actually like. Feel plants die so.

Sunrise or Sunset?

Sunrise - She's only ever seen one sunset but if she could see a sunrise I think she would prefer it, emotionally speaking. She’s real heavy on metaphors and emotions and so would enjoy the concept.

Neon or Pastel?

Pastel - Neon stands out too much and she sees it all the time (living in a cyber-eque dystopia,) though she likes the look of it.

Books or Movies?

Books - She’s big on thinking, and imagining, so books are definitely more her forte. Also all of the harder parts about watching movies.

Rural living or Urban Living?

Urban Living - Because of her love for nature- rather than in spite of it- she prefers finding alternative solutions to the stone towers of urban cities as opposed to just writing them off. She’s one the people who would really rather they introduce plants to everyone. 

Cats or Dogs? 

Dogs - See, I wanted to say cats, because I’m not a fan of dogs, but Hadley is- if I have to choose- a dog person, because it’s something to take care of and give attention and that’s literally all she knows how to do. 

Stability or Adventure?

Adventure - Hadley loves seeing new things and learning new things and isn’t afraid to pay the price. Not to mention Adventures means people she can help- she loves helping people.

Brutal truth or blissful lie?

Blissful lie - There’s a time and a place for the truth, but it should never be brutal. If she must either tell a brutal truth or a blissful lie, she’d rather lie. (Though honestly she’d rather tell blissful truths and brutal lies.)

Warm colors or cool colors?

Warm Colors - That’s the primary tone flowers average out to, though honestly she likes both equally.

Coziness or opulence?

Coziness - Wealth makes her feel unsafe, and guilty. Like she herself is taking from the poorer people. Though her parents are (mostly) honest workers, she doesn’t even really like the fact that they live in a two-story house.

Work or rest?

Work - It’s always been her belief that one should never lie still unless they’re working their mind. The only person that’s ever gotten her to take a break would be her girlfriend, and even those times were spent learning glitches in the games her girlfriend would play.

Baths or showers?

Baths - She likes the comfort of being surrounded. (When she was little and small enough, she’d close her eyes and pretend to be a lilypad in the tub. This caused many heart attacks for her poor mother.)

Late nights or early mornings?

Late nights - Nothing like staying up all night with your favourite gamer girl/detective boy and having lots of fun. Plus, she generally doesn’t get a lot of sleep so really this is just ideal.

Tradition or innovation?

Innovation - In the right circumstances, I can totally see her getting into unethical science. (Mainly malforming her current body. She has no love for it, personally, and only maintains herself for the benefit of those around her.) And she would rather see the world change than stay the same, generally speaking. (The world is pretty bad.)

Sweet or savory?

Savory - Sweetness is all well and good but she doesn’t find it filling. She would prefer to eat filling food than sweet candies. (Most of my characters will prefer savory for much the same reasons.)

Spicy or mild?

Mild - She doesn’t really care either way, but spicy food can injure the body sometimes and she would prefer to not deal with that.

Beach or forest?

Forest - She’s a botanist. Ofc she’d prefer the forest. Though she would likely enjoy water plants too, her father’s escapades into the ocean deter her.

Chaos or order?

Chaos - She believes there’s a certain kind of order to chaos that is particularly beautiful when properly founded and encouraged. If she had to endure rigid structure, she totally could, but she’s far more likely to dismantle it herself.

Leather or denim?

Denim - She likes the blue of denim. (And leather is Too Heavy.)

Peace or passion?

Passion - She doesn’t have strong feelings about anything other than plants. She finds passion to be a beautiful thing, and would generally choose a passion over peace if she had to. In many ways, she admires those with a strong zest for life.

Open space or closed space?

Closed space - She has a particular draw to the comfort of being compressed. A small part of it would call it the feeling of being buried.

Company or solitude?

Company - She doesn’t like being alone. That’s when the Thoughts might roll in. She'd much rather hang out with even unpleasant company than stay alone somewhere.

Shame or pride?

Fire or water?

Water - if only because she identifies with it in a strange way. Something about the way it moves and how it feels is just comforting to her. Not to mention the implications of it's complicated relationship with fire itself.

Pride - undoubtedly. She believes that whatever you are, you should be proud of it. Whether or not it's good or bad for others, you should be proud to be you. Not many people can boast being themselves.

Fight or flight?

Flight - Aside from most things not being worth the fight, she likes being chased. She likes outwitting her opponent as opposed to out-strengthing them. She finds the game of escape more fun than the force of a fight.

Past or future?

Past - It's harder to see the future, so she tends towards trying to use the past instead. For her, she doesn't have much of a future anyways.

Give or take?

Give - She has no reason or will to take. After all, that sort of thing just doesn't give her joy. She likes seeing people contented and she likes being around happy people. Taking will only ever subtract from that.

Risk or safety?

Loud or soft?

Soft - Being too loud can draw eyes to her and she would rather avoid that potentiality if- at all- possible. The effectiveness varies but she will always be of softer cloth.

Risk - if you can afford to take a risk, you absolutely should. Safety is never guaranteed, so you should naturally go with the rest of the world. In a risky world, one must live a risky life.

[aprayerforclarity]

A Prayer for Clarity

Well, here I am. I'm back to Tumblr. I had forgotten about this site for many years, actually. I started sporadically looking back on my previous blog, the one in which I stopped populating almost ten years ago, a few months ago. Like looking back on my previous social media presence or writings, I expected to deeply cringe at my former posts.

But honestly, I'm kinda proud of how well a lot of it has held up.

It mainly consists of concept art and fan art from some of my favorite IPs. Final Fantasy, Fromsoft games, fantasy books or just movie shots I found appealing. Occasionally I reposted an edgy quote from a coming-of-age movie or from another irksome tumblr user, who had a romanticized version of what depression or self sabotage was. I even used tumblr as a blog to share my high school thoughts about things going on in my life. I wished I had shared more.

This brings me to this post and the creation of this new blog.

I'm now 28 years old. I'm living in Harrisonburg, VA and typing this post on a computer in my bedroom above James McHone's jewelry shop, located in the heart of downtown. This morning I ate two homegrown B+ mushrooms and washed them down with four shots of espresso. When I began feeling the mushroom's effects I went to my room to listen to ambient music and stretch for a solid ten minutes. After stretching I went to my gym and used the sauna for 27 minutes. While in the sauna, I read Stephen King's On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft.

While reading his book I was struck with something. For the majority of my life, my thoughts are just nebulous sputtering in the form of a cloud. I live and process my life, day to day, in a foggy cloud, exacerbated by the unending stimulus of my phone.

An image came to mind of an overpopulated beehive. My thoughts were like the bees flying feverishly around a lumpy and cragged mass. The hundreds of bees are loud, their forms only made out for a few seconds before flying back into the slimy matter. Some of the bees feverishly circle the hive, only half landing before being pheromonically obliged to take off again. Some bees only peek their bulbus, fractal eyes out from insdie the hive before quickly darting back in. The emergence of their full form is abated by fear, as they would not dare to entirely present themselves except for in the most extreme of circumstances. Some bees emerge from the hive and land on it, idling for a while. With these bees one can fully admire the ingenious articulation of their chitin-cladded legs, the intricate detail of each strand of patterned fur, or the iridescence of their crinkly, translucent wings. Some bees just shoot straight from mass out into the ether beyond. Like a bullet they're barely visible as they launch to the great beyond.

It's hard to be conscious of this when I'm living in it- but the truth is that my brain is very cloudy, almost all of the time. It takes me reading Stephen King to realize that. The reason he is so good is because he can transmit his thoughts and images so clearly.

It could have been the alcohol, marijuana or research chemicals I experimented with back when my brain was developing in high school. It could be depression or anxiety; something I only fully recognized I deal within the past 5 years of my life. It also could just be "how God made me," in other words, my genetics, that make me predisposed to a jumbled brain. (I know at least 2 aunts and 5 cousin with undiagnosed mental illnesses. I'm even convinced the undiagnosed mood disorder, learning disorder and drug addictions of one cousin led to his unexpected death at age 25)

Even as I write this, I feel myself beginning to ramble as it becomes increasingly harder for me to finish my thoughts.

SO, I'm going to start populating this blog as a way to begin tying down to my thoughts. I want to begin pulling the thoughts out of my mind in whole, contiguous pieces and get good at it. I have a lot of problems focusing, and I want this blog to be an exercise in focus.

I love my brain, I love who I am, but god damn it, it is so frustrating when I can't get it to do the things I want it to.

So that will be this blog. It is my prayer for mental clarity. On here I'm going to be processing myself, whatever my mind decided to dwell on, and bringing refinement to that skill. It's gonna be messy and wordy. But my goal is to become better at formulating and concisely sharing my mind.

To whoever will be reading this, thanks for being interested enough to read this.

[perpetual-stories]

Story Structures for your Next WIP

hello, hello. this post will be mostly for my notes. this is something I need in to be reminded of for my business, but it can also be very useful and beneficial for you guys as well.

everything in life has structure and storytelling is no different, so let’s dive right in :)

First off let’s just review what a story structure is :

a story is the backbone of the story, the skeleton if you will. It hold the entire story together.

the structure in which you choose your story will effectively determine how you create drama and depending on the structure you choose it should help you align your story and sequence it with the conflict, climax, and resolution.

1. Freytag's Pyramid

this first story structure i will be talking about was named after 19th century German novelist and playwright.

it is a five point structure that is based off classical Greek tragedies such as Sophocles, Aeschylus and Euripedes.

Freytag's Pyramid structure consists of:

Introduction: the status quo has been established and an inciting incident occurs.

Rise or rising action: the protagonist will search and try to achieve their goal, heightening the stakes,

Climax: the protagonist can no longer go back, the point of no return if you will.

Return or fall: after the climax of the story, tension builds and the story inevitably heads towards...

Catastrophe: the main character has reached their lowest point and their greatest fears have come into fruition.

this structure is used less and less nowadays in modern storytelling mainly due to readers lack of appetite for tragic narratives.

2. The Hero's Journey

the hero's journey is a very well known and popular form of storytelling.

it is very popular in modern stories such as Star Wars, and movies in the MCU.

although the hero's journey was inspired by Joseph Campbell's concept, a Disney executive Christopher Vogler has created a simplified version:

The Ordinary World: The hero's everyday routine and life is established.

The Call of Adventure: the inciting incident.

Refusal of the Call: the hero / protagonist is hesitant or reluctant to take on the challenges.

Meeting the Mentor: the hero meets someone who will help them and prepare them for the dangers ahead.

Crossing the First Threshold: first steps out of the comfort zone are taken.

Tests, Allie, Enemies: new challenges occur, and maybe new friends or enemies.

Approach to the Inmost Cave: hero approaches goal.

The Ordeal: the hero faces their biggest challenge.

Reward (Seizing the Sword): the hero manages to get ahold of what they were after.

The Road Back: they realize that their goal was not the final hurdle, but may have actually caused a bigger problem than before.

Resurrection: a final challenge, testing them on everything they've learned.

Return with the Elixir: after succeeding they return to their old life.

the hero's journey can be applied to any genre of fiction.

3. Three Act Structure:

this structure splits the story into the 'beginning, middle and end' but with in-depth components for each act.

Act 1: Setup:

exposition: the status quo or the ordinary life is established.

inciting incident: an event sets the whole story into motion.

plot point one: the main character decided to take on the challenge head on and she crosses the threshold and the story is now progressing forward.

Act 2: Confrontation:

rising action: the stakes are clearer and the hero has started to become familiar with the new world and begins to encounter enemies, allies and tests.

midpoint: an event that derails the protagonists mission.

plot point two: the hero is tested and fails, and begins to doubt themselves.

Act 3: Resolution:

pre-climax: the hero must chose between acting or failing.

climax: they fights against the antagonist or danger one last time, but will they succeed?

Denouement: loose ends are tied up and the reader discovers the consequences of the climax, and return to ordinary life.

4. Dan Harmon's Story Circle

it surprised me to know the creator of Rick and Morty had their own variation of Campbell's hero's journey.

the benefit of Harmon's approach is that is focuses on the main character's arc.

it makes sense that he has such a successful structure, after all the show has multiple seasons, five or six seasons? i don't know not a fan of the show.

the character is in their comfort zone: also known as the status quo or ordinary life.

they want something: this is a longing and it can be brought forth by an inciting incident.

the character enters and unfamiliar situation: they must take action and do something new to pursue what they want.

adapt to it: of course there are challenges, there is struggle and begin to succeed.

they get what they want: often a false victory.

a heavy price is paid: a realization of what they wanted isn't what they needed.

back to the good old ways: they return to their familiar situation yet with a new truth.

having changed: was it for the better or worse?

i might actually make a operate post going more in depth about dan harmon's story circle.

5. Fichtean Curve:

the fichtean curve places the main character in a series of obstacles in order to achieve their goal.

this structure encourages writers to write a story packed with tension and mini-crises to keep the reader engaged.

The Rising Action

the story must start with an inciting indecent.

then a series of crisis arise.

there are often four crises.

2. The Climax:

3. Falling Action

this type of story telling structure goes very well with flash-back structured story as well as in theatre.

6. Save the Cat Beat Sheet:

this is another variation of a three act structure created by screenwriter Blake Snyder, and is praised widely by champion storytellers.

Structure for Save the Cat is as follows: (the numbers in the brackets are for the number of pages required, assuming you're writing a 110 page screenplay)

Opening Image [1]: The first shot of the film. If you’re starting a novel, this would be an opening paragraph or scene that sucks readers into the world of your story.

Set-up [1-10]. Establishing the ‘ordinary world’ of your protagonist. What does he want? What is he missing out on?

Theme Stated [5]. During the setup, hint at what your story is really about — the truth that your protagonist will discover by the end.

Catalyst [12]. The inciting incident!

Debate [12-25]. The hero refuses the call to adventure. He tries to avoid the conflict before they are forced into action.

Break into Two [25]. The protagonist makes an active choice and the journey begins in earnest.

B Story [30]. A subplot kicks in. Often romantic in nature, the protagonist’s subplot should serve to highlight the theme.

The Promise of the Premise [30-55]. Often called the ‘fun and games’ stage, this is usually a highly entertaining section where the writer delivers the goods. If you promised an exciting detective story, we’d see the detective in action. If you promised a goofy story of people falling in love, let’s go on some charmingly awkward dates.

Midpoint [55]. A plot twist occurs that ups the stakes and makes the hero’s goal harder to achieve — or makes them focus on a new, more important goal.

Bad Guys Close In [55-75]. The tension ratchets up. The hero’s obstacles become greater, his plan falls apart, and he is on the back foot.

All is Lost [75]. The hero hits rock bottom. He loses everything he’s gained so far, and things are looking bleak. The hero is overpowered by the villain; a mentor dies; our lovebirds have an argument and break up.

Dark Night of the Soul [75-85-ish]. Having just lost everything, the hero shambles around the city in a minor-key musical montage before discovering some “new information” that reveals exactly what he needs to do if he wants to take another crack at success. (This new information is often delivered through the B-Story)

Break into Three [85]. Armed with this new information, our protagonist decides to try once more!

Finale [85-110]. The hero confronts the antagonist or whatever the source of the primary conflict is. The truth that eluded him at the start of the story (established in step three and accentuated by the B Story) is now clear, allowing him to resolve their story.

Final Image [110]. A final moment or scene that crystallizes how the character has changed. It’s a reflection, in some way, of the opening image.

(all information regarding the save the cat beat sheet was copy and pasted directly from reedsy!)

7. Seven Point Story Structure:

this structure encourages writers to start with the at the end, with the resolution, and work their way back to the starting point.

this structure is about dramatic changes from beginning to end

The Hook. Draw readers in by explaining the protagonist’s current situation. Their state of being at the beginning of the novel should be in direct contrast to what it will be at the end of the novel.

Plot Point 1. Whether it’s a person, an idea, an inciting incident, or something else — there should be a "Call to Adventure" of sorts that sets the narrative and character development in motion.

Pinch Point 1. Things can’t be all sunshine and roses for your protagonist. Something should go wrong here that applies pressure to the main character, forcing them to step up and solve the problem.

Midpoint. A “Turning Point” wherein the main character changes from a passive force to an active force in the story. Whatever the narrative’s main conflict is, the protagonist decides to start meeting it head-on.

Pinch Point 2. The second pinch point involves another blow to the protagonist — things go even more awry than they did during the first pinch point. This might involve the passing of a mentor, the failure of a plan, the reveal of a traitor, etc.

Plot Point 2. After the calamity of Pinch Point 2, the protagonist learns that they’ve actually had the key to solving the conflict the whole time.

Resolution. The story’s primary conflict is resolved — and the character goes through the final bit of development necessary to transform them from who they were at the start of the novel.

(all information regarding the seven point story structure was copy and pasted directly from reedsy!)

i decided to fit all of them in one post instead of making it a two part post.

i hope you all enjoy this post and feel free to comment or reblog which structure you use the most, or if you have your own you prefer to use! please share with me!

if you find this useful feel free to reblog on instagram and tag me at perpetualstories

Follow my tumblr and instagram for more writing and grammar tips and more!

[yoongsisbae]

Caught! House of Cards - Chapter 3

You joined a website to make some quick and easy cash. Men paying to look at you, harmless fun, right? Little did you know how dangerous the members of House of Cards were. Watch out! Houses built with cards come tumbling down…

OT7 yandere!BTS x reader / Namjoon x Taehyung x reader this chapter

Oh, I was dying writing this chapter so I think I wrote it well? Heh there’s a lot going on, so you have been warned lol. Also hope to post HOAL soon, that is if BTS would stop attacking me with all these sexy bad boy photoshoots that scream C!HOC mens. Sorry, but can you really blame me? :(

Warnings: 18+ dark themes, reader manipulation, scary yandere behavior, voyeur, masturbation, lots of drinking and drunkenness, dubcon, dry humping on the dance floor lol, this is pretty filthy, all of them are horny, dom!Namjoon, dom!Taehyung, Tae’s a lot, shibari, bondage, blindfold, rough sex, edging, multiple orgasms, threesome, degradation, Yoongi continues to be a meanie, slut shaming, extreme regret for reader that could be triggering I think, tell me if I need to tag anything else

PSA: to reiterate, this is a yandere fic, this is all fantasy, this is scary, no one actually wants this to happen to them irl. But I’m also here for you if you wanna enjoy some hot fictional villains, alright? I got u boo.

Word Count: 8.7k

Playlist: Rotimi - Push Button Start // Shenseea - Blessed (with Tyga) // ROSALIA - Con Altura // Sean Paul - Go Down Deh // Afro B - Drogba // Aya Nakamura - Pookie // DJ Nelson - PAPI //J Balvin - Amarillo // SUPA NYTRO - Tik Pon Cock // Paris Lain - Way (links here)

---

“P-please...”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum, Daddy.”

He groans in your ear. “Hmm no.” He pulls his fingers out of you, you hold onto the banister as your orgasm escapes you. Your body shakes with need.

“You’ll come find me later tonight, won’t you, baby girl?” His warmth leaves your body, when you turn around no one is there.

---

Your legs are still shaking as you make your way downstairs. You tried not to think about the slick between your thighs as you descended each step, or think about RM’s warm breath against your ear. No, you won’t think about his deep voice that makes you shiver still, or the way he massaged your neck like he had done it a hundred times before...out of all the weird fucked up things you thought could happen tonight, never ever did you expect to meet RM again.

He reminded you of all the reasons why you allowed yourself to fall deeper into that kind of exhibitionistic lifestyle as a carded member. The money was good, but the sweetest rewards were corporal. The saccharine praise your admirers would give you became addicting. You even became close to some of them, for an extra fee.

What was it your old school counselor would say? It wasn’t about the destination, the real reward was the friends you made along the way. Except your new friends told you all their dirty filthy desires and watched as you would get off for them. You learned quickly your sexual appetite was ravenous, the more you indulged the worse it got. You had been starved for attention for so long, quarantine only amplifying your loneliness, and the dark site fed you well.

RM also reminded you of all the reasons why you left. You still don’t understand how you fell so deep so fast, let digital become physical when you promised yourself you wouldn’t. The House Rules made the descent into filth almost inevitable. During your only experience inside The House, you had been shown truths you didn’t want to face, depravities you enjoyed. After that night you went home, showered away your sins until your skin burned, logged out and never logged back in. It was the best way to end your addiction to House of Cards, end it cold turkey.

You were not prepared for this again. You were not prepared for how much you craved it.

---

The party became wild. Your body now hyper aware of everything after RM worked you up so skillfully and denied you any release. The music reverberates throughout the halls, the beats of the bass clashes with the pounding in your head. The smell of drugs and sex assaults your nostrils, and every time a dancer bumps into you, your body remembers RM’s touch.

So many bodies around you and you feel all alone like an outcast. Where’s Yoongi? You're beginning to miss that annoying smirk and the overconfident man attached to it, you could use some of that confidence right now.

As the room spins around you, your eyes find the place where you had been standing. You’re disappointed it’s empty. Not that you knew what RM looked like, but you feel like you’d recognize him as soon as you saw him, a man like that would look like walking sin.

You shift your upward gaze to the gold ropes hanging from the ceiling, eyes traveling down until you meet the glistening body of a woman. She’s so beautiful it makes you ache, arms secured behind her back, her leg extended and tied high, her other leg bent and pressed to her side and her spread open for everyone to see.

You play with the pendant around your neck, and you can’t help but imagine yourself in her position, tied up for everyone to see, for Yoongi to watch. You’re soaking. You need a drink.

---

“Hey,” you bump into Yoongi’s side as you sit down, grabbing his whisky glass and downing what’s left. The burning liquid makes you grimace, face scrunching up in distaste.

He pulls the glass from your grip, looking you up and down, sharp eyes narrowing, “Where have you been?”

“I got lost.” His arm snakes around your waist. His touch feels good, you don’t want to admit how much your body yearns for more, wants to be wanted. “Where are Jimin and Hobi?”

“Dancing,” Taehyung interjects as he gets closer to you, offering you another glass of champagne. You take it gratefully, sipping on the sweet liquid, anything to numb the ache you feel inside.

His eyes sparkle as he scrutinizes you up close, examining your dark makeup and tight dress. He wants to smear the red lipstick on your lips with his fingers, and his mouth, and his cock. He wants to stain your pretty black dress with his cum, let the milky white fluid drip all over the black silky fabric, between your breasts-

“I’m sorry, what is your name again?”

You ask him so innocently, Taehyung can forgive you for forgetting. Jungkook on the other hand, silently simmers with rage, especially when Yoongi smirks at him, sitting pressed to your side like a lover would.

“Taehyung,” The man gives you a big wide smile, “that's Seokjin,” he points to the tall man who keeps his distance, “and this,” he hits Jungkook’s chest and pulls him into a headlock, “is Jungkook!” Taehyung leans in to whisper in your ear, “a big fan.”

Your eyes go wide, did you hear him correctly? You watch the two play fight. Jungkook punches his older friend in the side a bit harder than he was expecting, earning a yell from Taehyung. They act cute, you think, Jungkook looks too innocent, you can’t believe he had watched you in his free time.

Hoseok and Jimin find their way back into the group. “Y/n, you’re back! Yoongi was about to send out a search party for you.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, and you lean your chin onto your palm, raising your eyebrows at him, trying to hide your smile at the way they tease him.

“Is that so?” His fingers pinch the flesh of your back at your retort, making you squirm at the ticklish sensation. When you try to pull his hand away, he takes the opportunity to intertwine your fingers together, pulling you firmly to his side.

You look down at Yoongi’s hand in yours, resting on your hip. Without the alcohol cursing through your veins you might have pushed him off you, but instead you sit buzzed and docile. He acts so possessive of you in front of the others, it makes your heart race. “Well I’m here now.”

“I’ll cheers to that!” Jimin fills everyone’s drinks. 7 glasses clang together and they cheer, making you giggle as you down the glass. One cheers becomes two, and then another bottle comes, until you're welcoming back that hazed state of mind that feels so freeing. The background fades away and the booming music around you becomes muffled as you try your best to focus on the conversation, until you realize you’re in Yoongi’s lap, his veiny hands dancing around your exposed thigh. He says something you can’t hear, so you tilt your head back, resting on his shoulder, whining out a slurred, “what!”

“You’re having too much fun.” He suppresses the urge to move his fingers higher, instead tracing lazy circles into your leg, making you twist in his lap, lips parting as you enjoy the sensation. Your body feels heavy from inebriation, so you lean your weight onto him more, focused on his cold rings against your warm skin.

You move your head closer to his. “You wanted to bring me here, right?” you laugh, and you swivel your body against him, grinding into his lap to the tempo of the music. Yoongi notices the others' heated stares, so he shifts his leg, pressing his hands into your thighs, opening your legs wider, and you’re too drunk to notice or care.

Yoongi tries to hold onto his thinning composure, how many times had he thought of you like this? So receptive and needy in his arms. He enjoys your torturous hip rolls, reveling in the fact that the sight tortures his audience even more. But you’re not really paying attention to that, your body only responding to how the music beat hits so well, his growing erection encouraging you to keep rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.

“Y/n, let's go dance!” Hoseok calls out to you over the music. His request pulls you from your trance. You sit up, shaking the clouded haze from your mind.

“Dance? Okay!” You let Hoseok pull you to your feet, stumbling slightly into him.

You turn to Yoongi, “You don’t mind, do you?” you ask, ready to start a fight. He glares at you. You sway on your feet and glare back. Such a brat, he thinks, you’ll just have to be taught a lesson later. Yoongi picks up his whisky and waves you off.

---

The dance floor is hot and alive with writhing bodies. You let Hoseok roll his hips into you from behind, your own hips following his movements. His toned arms lock around you, holding you, as he pulls your body lower and lower, until you’re crouched to the floor, your bodies connecting again and again as he rubs his hardening bulge into your ass to the beat.

It feels so so good, his warm body on you, seeking pleasure from one another. Every roll and buck helps to release the frustration RM did to you.

Hoseok’s hands pull your dress higher so you can spread your knees wider. He holds the bunched up fabric to your core to keep what’s left of your modesty, and your arms reach behind you to hook around his neck to keep yourself steady.

Hoseok is such a good dancer, masterfully guiding your loose body. You pull and push each other along to the sensual music, shifting your weight against your combined center of gravity as your bodies heat up in each other’s embrace.

Hoseok moves the hair from your neck away, blowing air on the back of your neck. His hand cups your breast, fondling you out in the open, “You like when I do this to you, don’t you Dahlia?” You’re too drunk to catch the pseudonym he uses.

You close your eyes focusing on his hands groping your body, your fingers fisting into his hair, pulling him closer, and his tongue licks off the sweat on your neck. Hoseok knows all the ways to leave you delirious with lust, hands running up and down your body, massaging your curves and leading your hips to meet his. If he’s making you feel this good with your clothes on, you can only imagine how amazing he’d be in bed, hips rolling against you as he fills you up with his stiff cock...

You’re so focused on Hoseok you don’t realize another body moving closer to you, another pair of hands on you, until Taehyung presses himself into your front.

The music fills your head, the dirty words being sung encouraging you to release all your inhibitions. Your arms reach out to run up Taehyung’s abdomen, up and up his chest, loving the feel of his muscles under your fingers.

He places your arms around his neck as he moves forward, his leg slotting between yours. With Hoseok grinding against your back and Taehyung rubbing against your front, you feel like you’re going to combust. The crowd around you is a blur, but everything about them feels so solid, so hard against you. Caged between them, you submit to every caress, every touch from both men.

Taehyung holds the back of your head to keep your eyes on him as Hoseok leaves open mouth kisses on your shoulder. Taehyung’s thumb caresses your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.” his mouth slides across your jaw, under your ear, licking and nibbling at your lobe, giving you goosebumps, “You’re the most beautiful woman here.”

You place your finger over his mouth pushing him away, too embarrassed to hear more, but your hips can’t help but push into him at the praise.

“Come with me,” he pulls you away from Hoseok, his friend winking at him behind your back, and you foolishly follow him through the sea of dancing bodies.

---

Pulling you into a dark corner, he cages you in before you can protest. Lips finding your neck, hooking a finger under your choker, pulling up, forcing your neck to tilt so he can reach more skin. Even if you want more, you still have some sense left in you to know letting Yoongi’s friend do this to you in front of everyone is a bad idea. “W-wait. Yoongi will-”

Taehyung’s arm slams into the wall. The noise startles you into silence. It’s Yoongi, always Yoongi. What about him? He steadies his breathing after noticing your wide eyes.

“Y/n, do you know who I am?” He leans onto the wall hovering over you, dark eyes peering down at you as he waits for your answer.

You feel your stomach drop under his intimidating gaze. “Should I know who you are?”

He answers your question with another question, “Do you know who Yoongi is? Do you really have no idea?” His interrogation takes you aback.

“He’s one of my...v-viewers...”

“Yes, who? You never thought to ask, baby?” Taehyung looks at you so accusingly, you feel ashamed that you can’t answer him.

“Who is he?” You ask.

He smiles, a twisted grin that makes you feel uneasy. Eyes lighting up darkly once his suspicions were proved right.

“How about this, since we both have so many unanswered questions, why don’t we play a game? I’ll answer one of your questions and then you answer one of mine. I’ll even let you go first.” His playful demeanor is back, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

“Who are you?”

Taehyung smiles wide. You asked the right question. “I go by V.”

What? “You’re V?”

---

You log into the House of Cards website, open your account to a litany of unread messages. Your eyes skim through them, and one catches your eye. It’s V, the second highest donator from the other night’s stream.

V: you looked so beautiful the other night. I hope to see another broadcast soon...for next time?

V sent you an eighty dollar donation and a link to a lingerie set: pink lace, a sheer see-through pattern on the cups with a matching lace thong and garter belt.

You’ve bought lingerie for men before, for then boyfriends on your anniversaries or Valentine’s day dates, but you’ve never had a man buy you lingerie before. With shipping you’ll still have money left over, so you decide to add some more things in your basket to surprise him for being such a generous donor. It’s not because you had enjoyed his compliments the most during your stream, no. You found a cute pair of thigh high socks and some stick on rhinestones, coming up with a plan to get V’s attention. You squeal once the order goes through, ‘time to arts and craft in this bitch.’

You open his message again, fingers hovering over the keyboard, what should you say? Should you make it sound sexy or cute? ‘C’mon y/n, just flirt.’

Dahlia: Thank you, V. I will wear it for my next broadcast. Just for you sexy <3

Ew ew. No. Before pressing enter you delete the last sentence.

Dahlia: Thank you, V. I will wear it for my next broadcast. See you soon ;)

You go through all your messages, in a much better mood than you’ve been in a long time. You bop your head to the music that flows through your speakers in your living room while coming up with different replies to each new viewer.

It feels good to be stress free, you think, while sipping on cup ramen because you’re still waiting until your earnings clear your account to buy groceries. You’ve managed to answer every message when a new notification dings. V attached a picture.

V: I can’t wait.

Holy... A picture of a shirtless man from the neck down pops up. He’s not overly muscular, but he’s lean and toned, with defined pecs and v-line. Mmm. ‘V’ indeed. His jeans are unbuttoned. His legs spread wide, as if he were inviting you to sit on his lap.

You’re being catfished, you surmise. This man has to be using someone else’s pictures. Or he has a face only a mother could love. Either way, you’ll play with this fantasy. it’s not like you’ll actually ever meet in real life.

So you decide to play along, it’s not like you had work to go to, or anything to do really. Locked up in your tiny home alone and slowly going stir crazy would lead to some unfortunate decisions for you. One of the worst, allowing V to get so close to you.

Abandoning your snacks, you grab your laptop and run to the bedroom, jumping on your bed. Your laptop opens to another risque photo, his jeans zipped even lower. Hand grabbing a very defined bulge resting inside his pants leg. Well fuck.

Dahlia: is that really you?

V: yes baby

V: I wish you were here with me right now. I would make you feel so good, just like you deserve.

V: How about you, am I turning you on?

You clench your legs together instinctively.

Dahlia: you are.

V: are you touching yourself?

Should you lie? You could. But the pictures and his words are doing something to you, you feel jitters and a quick pace and a throbbing core. Suddenly you have an idea.

Dahlia: why don’t you see for yourself?

You create a private room, aim your camera down, mirroring the same angle in V’s picture and send the link to him. You pull the front of your sundress down to show more cleavage and the hem up to show more leg, and you wait.

There’s a notification: ‘1 new viewer.’

V: you look so pretty, you look like a doll

V: I wish I was there.

“Yeah? What would you do to me?”

V: I would spread your legs

You spread your legs at his words. Your stream plays in Taehyung's bedroom, he watches intently, and when your panties come into view he pulls his jeans down to his thighs freeing his hard erection, slowly stroking himself to the sight of your body.

V: fuck, so good baby. being so good for me.

V: I would take off your panties. slowly

You follow his commands and slowly remove your underwear. You like being told what to do, you imagine he’s on the bed with you, telling you everything, guiding your pleasure.

V: touch yourself for me

V: you’re wet already? how cute

V: that’s a good girl, just like that

V: imagine it’s me. my fingers stuffed inside of you, giving you everything you want

V: you’re mine and mine only

V: you’re going to be mine to kiss and fuck. I’ll take care of you baby doll, make you cum all over my fingers. You want that too?

V: you're so pretty baby, you like putting on a filthy show for me? desperate little girl

V: open your legs wider

V: doing so well for me, stay just like that. you’re driving me crazy

V: cum for me

You pulse, moaning out loud, reaching your high. When your lust filled haze clears you don’t feel dirty like before, you feel good. Even better when V sends you another eighty dollar donation.

Taehyung played sweet and affectionate very well. When talking to other House members you’d try your best to keep things as vague as possible, but sometimes you’d let certain things slip with V, and he always listened so well. Shit, he treated you better than your ex. He’d send you sweet messages, gifts, and the hottest body shots. He would do that often, it made you needy for more affection. He was a part of a small group of viewers that you’d offer special private streams to. Little did you know your carefree playdates were Taehyung’s obsessions.

---

Taehyung feels a special kind of gratification at the way you gawk at him, stunned into silence. “Now my turn,” Taehyung’s expression goes from playful to serious in an instant, “Why are you here with Yoongi?”

You swallow, this was V all along. You teetered between happiness and unease, you remembered all the sweet memories you had with him, but this man was still a stranger to you. He keeps staring at you, is this how he looked watching you through the computer screen? Fuck, your imagination could not have dreamed up a sexier man. Oh right, he is waiting for your answer.

You explain to him what happened, Yoongi recognizing you at your job, the agreement you made with him afterwards. Taehyung moves from hovering over you to standing by your side. He listens intently as his eyes scan the crowd. You watch the dancers as you sober up, observing the debauchery you had just been a part of. Taehyung hums as you finish your story.

“Who is-” Taehyung doesn’t let you finish, his eyes staring at the second floor’s balcony. “You looked like you enjoyed yourself. You looked so pretty up there, with my friend’s fingers inside you. You were being such a cute little slut.” His eyes roll back inside his head and he opens his mouth sighing.

He saw you. Did the others- “Did Yoongi see?!” you pull on his arm to get him to focus on you.

“No, he didn’t, just me. My turn!”

You felt tricked, using your question up already.

He turns to face you, leaning his side against the wall. You can't help but notice how he stares at you like he’s undressing you with his eyes, gaze traveling down your body and pausing at every place your skin shows, your cleavage and your thighs. “He really worked you up, you looked so guilty when you came back,” Taehyung’s teasing tone back again, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Yoongi suspected something.”

Your eyes go wide with worry. “I’m willing to keep that secret for you if...” he bites his lip and leans in whispering, “I bet you’re still wet too. Can I have a taste?”

“R-right now?”

“Yes. That’s my turn again! And I’m waiting for my answer.” He gets closer to you, pressing up against you again, his hands brushing against your thigh. You look around, how far away are you from the crowd? How far away are you from Yoongi?

His lips brush against your temple as he leans his jaw against your forehead. “No one will see. Put your hands back on my shoulder, c’mon baby, be good for me.” His body blocks you from everyone’s view.

His head in your hair, taking a long inhale, breathing in your scent, Taehyung can’t get enough of you. Your shaky arms obey him, laying loosely on top of his broad shoulders. You lay your head on his chest, even if his words come out smooth, his heart is racing as he moves quickly between your bodies, dipping his long fingers inside you. You try to bite back a moan, but it feels too good.

Taehyung feels like he’s going to burst. You’re so wet, dripping all over his hand. He tries to fight his urges, there’s so many things he wants to do to you. Your soft whimpers sound so beautiful, so much better in person. You’re his to play with, all his.

He groans, pushing you hard against the wall. He looks like he’s going to devour you, your body tenses and you clench around his fingers. It only encourages him on. You grip his shoulders as he drives his hand upward, fingers pushing into you deeply as you fight against gravity, forced to stand on your tiptoes, struggling against him as his mouth attacks your neck, biting down hard. It’s too rough, too fast. “Tae-V-stop!”

His entire body stills against you, except for his fingers, teasing you still as they steadily press around inside your walls. You try to come to your senses, but everything about him unravels you.

He whispers against your forehead. “Last round, baby doll.” His voice raspy and breathing heavy as he holds himself back from tearing the clothes off your body. “One more question for each of us. I know where RM is, do you want to know?”

'RM,' who told you to find him, and V, who knows where. You gasp and nod your head, waiting but Taehyung smiles down at you in silence, fingers sliding out of you, making you whimper and grip the wall for support when he finally gives you space. He stays quiet as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking the wetness off his palm.

Your legs feel like jello, your body buzzes with each shameless lick as you watch him. You swallow the saliva accumulating in your mouth, pushing the lump in your throat down. You know what he wants. You played right into his trap, and the worst part is you want it too.

“Where is he?”

---

“If you think you’re going to keep her all to yourself you’re in for a rude awakening!” Jungkook grits out.

Yoongi sits quietly with his arms folded as Jungkook starts hurling accusations at him. Jin and Hoseok try to calm the youngest down, but it’s no use.

He grabs Yoongi’s collar, the action making Yoongi finally snap, and without warning Yoongi punches him squarely in the face. Yoongi had taken advantage of his friends holding Jungkook back and distracting him, satisfied when the young man recoils, stumbling back.

Before he can really lose it, Hoseok and Jimin drag Jungkook away, as the youngest screams all the ways he’s going to make Yoongi pay, not even aware of the blood leaking from his nose. Jin pulls Yoongi away in the opposite direction, “We need to talk.”

Jin walks Yoongi outside so they can both get some fresh air and clear their heads.

“He needs to learn not to disrespect his elders,” Yoongi mutters, wiping the blood off his knuckles.

“You know how he gets,” Jin counters, “Don’t act like you didn’t want that exact reaction from him. You were egging him on all night with y/n.”

Yoongi scoffs. He can’t stand how Jungkook acts like you belong with him. Jungkook is crazy. He’s too hot-headed and oversensitive, the complete opposite of Yoongi. The youngest suffers from inexperience and naivety. All that bark, and he couldn’t even bring himself to talk to you. No, Jungkook doesn’t deserve you, Yoongi thinks, he could never take care of you like Yoongi could.

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish? You brought y/n back and we’re all happy for that, but if Jungkook is right, then I’m going to have to agree with him, brother.” Jin squeezes his friend’s shoulder and Yoongi shakes him off.

“I wasn’t going to keep her locked away.” Yoongi says dismissively. Not that he didn't think once or twice about it.

“How gracious of you.”

“Listen, I found her. She chose me before and she’ll choose me again. The last time you were with her, what happened, Brother? Hobi and Jimin, Jungkook and even you can fight over her all you want. In the end, she will come back to me.”

Jin smiles, he will let Yoongi think that. “And where is your y/n now?”

“I’ll go find her,” Yoongi goes to leave, itching to get you by his side again.

Jin’s hand on his chest stops him. Jin can’t help but smile at his poor friend’s situation, he had been tricked by the two youngest, a plan they orchestrated themselves and everyone else went along with. But Jin couldn’t keep his friend in the dark any longer, especially when revealing the truth would make the aftermath that much more entertaining for Jin.

“I have to tell you something.”

---

You stand in front of the door Taehyung had led you to, your nerves on high alert. Taehyung stands behind you, humming to himself. His arm reaches over your shoulder to rapt three knocks on the door.

As the door knob turns, Taehyung exclaims behind you, “Oh! I forgot.” His long fingers cover your eyes, as he pulls your head back, your body stumbling and crashing against him.

“Taehyung!”

“Shh. Calm down, it’s more fun this way,” he whispers in your ear as you hear the door creak open.

“What do we have here?”

“I brought her for you,” Taehyung purrs. You can feel his chest puff up behind you, he’s ecstatic, you played his game so perfectly, he was so proud of you.

“Good boy.”

You feel fingers wrap around yours as Namjoon brings your hands to his lips, caressing your knuckles. “And what about you? Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

---

Jimin tends to Jungkook’s bleeding nose as Hoseok pours himself a drink. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Kookie.”

Jungkook keeps his head tilted back to stop the blood, glancing over to Hoseok, lips curving in a smile, he’s happy that he accomplished his part of the plan successfully, “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

Jimin flicks him in the forehead. “No you’re not, unless you want y/n to never forgive you.”

“She won’t,” he pouts, “she acts like she hates him. I’ll be doing her a favor.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

---

The room is quiet, too quiet compared to the raucous party outside. So when Taehyung drags a chair from the corner of the room, the wood scraping against the floor sounds all the more foreboding. Goosebumps bloom on your body as if Taehyung dragged his fingernails along your skin instead.

You sit kneeling on the floor waiting, knees tucked underneath you. RM sits on the bed behind you, legs outstretched and you between them. You stare down at his shoes, shiny black loafers, and glance at his pants legs on either side of you. It's the first time you’ve ever seen a part of him. You want to look up so badly, the idea sits heavy on you, tensing every muscle in your body as you fight your curiosity. The only thing you want more is to find out what will happen if you obey them.

Taehyung pulls the chair right in front of you, facing the bed, you and RM. Another pair of shoes brush against your knees as Taehyung takes a seat.

RM’s fingers rest atop your head and keep your head tilted down while he waits for his friend to situate himself. Until eventually RM moves behind you, fingers fisting your hair and pulling you to your feet. “Go sit on his lap.”

Taehyung sits looking at you like he's just been given first place prize, smirking pridefully as you walk towards him on shaky legs. His shirt is already unbuttoned, tan skin and taunt muscles in full view. That's V, all right. Your insides ache for him, his seduction luring you in like a firefly to light.

Your dress stretches around your thighs as you straddle him, his hands grabbing at your ass and pulling your body into his.

You hear RM’s low voice growl behind you, “Kiss him.”

For a moment you think about the intense quiet man who brought you to this island, his piercing eyes flashing through your mind until Taehyung’s lips crash into yours and you can only think about how sweet the man devouring you tastes, and you kiss him back, exploring his mouth with your tongue.

His hands grope your body, pull your face closer, force away the fabric of your clothes. His touch is everywhere, keeping you distracted only on him as RM sets things up behind you.

RM pulls off his tie as Taehyung’s hands move to either side of your face, and he pulls you away from him, leaving one last peck on your lips, “You’re doing so well, baby doll. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

“V...Taehyung, I-I’ve wanted this too.”

“Will you do what I say?” You feel RM’s hands unzip the back of your dress, the fabric lowers and exposes your chest. Taehyung’s grip on your face tightens as you’re momentarily distracted, bringing your attention back to him.

“Yes.”

“I want you to fuck RM while I watch.”

He what who?

Taehyung brings his hips up causing you to lose your balance when he senses your hesitation, his hard length rubs against your aching core, “Don’t you want to? You wanted so badly for me to take you to him, didn’t you? All you have to do is say yes.”

His thumb traces your jaw as RM lowers his black tie across your eyes. Your heartbeat races, your thighs clench around Taehyung’s legs making him moan and buck into your heat. You shudder and RM secures his tie behind your head with a tight knot.

“Tae...” your fingers tighten into the loose fabric of his shirt at your sudden loss in vision.

Taehyung clasps his hands around yours, holding your wrists together as RM presses himself against your back, and you feel ropes being wrapped around your wrists. “You’re so pretty like this, remember last time?”

You do remember. Fuck, how did you end up like this again? This is all Yoongi’s fault.

RM’s hand wraps around your neck and his deep voice speaks in your ear, “Answer him, baby girl.”

“I-I remember.” You want to cry, you want to cum, you want them to stop this torture.

“Let us make you feel good again,” Taehyung’s voice lowers even deeper than RM’s.

“I...okay.”

“You’ll let RM use you?” You nod your head, grateful you can’t see them. You let yourself hide behind the makeshift blindfold.

“Use your words, I want to hear you say it,” RM demands.

“I want you to use me,” you sit and wait, embarrassed the words left your mouth so easily. The lack of response makes your insides churn, you can’t see the way they smile at each other. If Yoongi wants to make you only his, they are just going to have to destroy you for any other man.

RM’s grip around your neck tightens, arm wrapping around your body as he lifts you off your feet. You land on the soft covers of the bed, you have no time to adjust to the drastic change of orientation before you feel harsh tugs as RM works to undress you, throwing the clothes over to Taehyung who takes his time breathing in your scent, licking the moistness from the fabric.

Namjoon pulls on the rope wrapped around your wrists placing them high above your head, his weight bears down on top of your leg as he grabs your other leg and spreads you wide. The way Taehyung moans reach your ears you suspect he has full view of your naked body. You wiggle against RM’s hold as best you can.

“Mmmm so needy and I’m not even doing anything yet.” RM’s hand leaves your wrists as he moves lower, resting his upper body on top of yours, effectively pinning your lower body down. Having full reign to play with you in this position, you feel his fingers teasing at your entrance. Your tied hands explore the expanse of his back, his shoulders so wide you can’t reach around to end his teasing, you can only moan and whimper at his slow ministrations.

“Ahh so wet,” RM massages everywhere except the place you want him most.

This is mean, this is tortuous, you’ve obeyed them and they still tease you. You cry out in frustration, clenching every time his fingers poke at your hole, RM’s grip on your thigh is too tight to move even an inch. You shove his back with your tied hands and RM laughs.

“Tae, help me out.” You feel fingers finally pressing into your aching clit, rubbing slow circles, making you cry out. RM’s fingers continue to drag across your lips, gathering the wetness that drips from your core. They slowly and steadily work the tension out of you until you’re numb with pleasure.

You let out a scream when your orgasm finally hits you. After being tortured all night, teased until you were delirious, the release becomes so intense you black out, and when you come to RM is pumping his fingers into you roughly. Your body seizes up again, racing into another orgasm. He rocks his hand into you, thumb rubbing your sensitive hood, and you release again. But RM doesn’t stop. He takes and takes, leaving you breathless. The sounds of your wetness fills the room, mixing with Taehyung’s grunts and moans at your helpless state.

“I c-can’t...too sensitive!”

“This is what you wanted, for Daddy to use you. Take it.”

Your tied hands try to move RM’s body off of you, but he is like a boulder on top of your body, unaffected by your hits. You struggle until his pleasure overtakes the pain, and you fall back, losing yourself in the way his fingers fill you up, hitting the deepest parts of you so skillfully. You stop fighting and accept the power he holds over you, he is making you feel so good you want him to take it, the thought sends you hurtling into another orgasm, tightening again around his fingers.

He can feel how close you are. “Be a good girl and give me one more,” RM groans, “that’s it.”

You’re wailing in pleasure now, unable to stop your cries. Your weak body shaking in his grasp. You feel something wet hit your outstretched thigh. Taehyung’s deep grunts of release finally undoing the coil inside you, and you orgasm for a third time around RM’s fingers.

RM lets go of you finally and you lie boneless, breathing ragged, blind and numb to the world. The air feels cool on your sweaty body as you come down from your high. You feel the bed dip as RM joins you again. Before he had been fully dressed, now you can feel his warm skin against your slippery body.

He lays himself between your legs. His lips finally meet yours, they feel full. You moan into his mouth as his tongue plays with yours. You want to touch his face but your arms are still tied together, so you caress his hair instead, the back of his neck, his muscular shoulders, trying to feel as much as you can.

His hard length brushes against your oversensitive core, his mouth swallowing your whimpers as he pushes himself in. You’re so wet there’s no resistance, but the stretch still leaves you gasping. His thrusts are hard and deep, you focus on how the weight of his body feels on top of yours as he uses you to reach his high. “You’re taking Daddy so well, baby.”

“T-Thank you, Daddy,” you stutter out between moans.

RM holds your wrists down as he finishes, releasing deep inside you. You feel every pulse from his cock, the pressure almost becoming too much as he fills you up.

You hear the familiar scrape of the chair again as Taehyung comes closer, fingers wiping away the tears on your face making you feel cared for. You don’t see how he licks your salty tears off his hand.

RM lifts your tired body in his arms, cradling you to his chest. He puts you in his lap as he takes a seat in the vacant chair.

“Tae has been such a patient boy, I think it’s time for his reward.”

RM moves your body so your back is flush against his, pulling the rope on your hands around his head, locking your arms. His hand massages up and down your legs, putting his knees in between yours.

“Kneel.” You realize RM is addressing Taehyung. He spreads his legs to make room for Taehyung, forcing your legs open in the process.

“RM-” Namjoon places his hand over your mouth, the same way he did at the party, stifling your scream as Taehyung buries his face into your pussy.

Taehyung eats you out while RM keeps you open, until you’re shaking in his lap, until you can’t form anything coherent anymore, until you’re so sensitive Taehyung’s lips around your clit is the only thought in your head, the drag of his tongue pulling away from you the last thing you feel before exhaustion sends you into the deepest sleep of your life.

---

You wake up alone.

You pull the sheets closer to your naked body as you look around the vacant room. Everything is moved back to its place, floor empty. You search the ground for your clothes but there’s nothing there. You pull yourself out of bed, trying to ignore your aching joints and pounding head. You look for your clothes but there’s nothing. You search the entire room, the closet is empty, the dresser is empty, there’s not even a towel in the bathroom. Where the hell are your clothes?!

You make your way back into bed, pulling the covers over your body.

Oh fuck, what are you going to do?

What time is it? They just left you and took your clothes. What kind of sick game is Taehyung playing now? Tears well up in your eyes.

You feel more confused than ever, Taehyung had been so sweet to you before, you had often fantasized meeting him, but he was so different in person. You hadn’t expected this. He’s going to come back, right? Right?!

You are pulled away from your thoughts at the sound of the door creaking open.

“I see you’ve been a very bad girl.” Your eyes widen as Yoongi makes his way into the room, closing the door behind him. He looks as smug as ever, holding a hanger over his shoulder.

“A-Are those my clothes?”

“Are these the clothes I gave you last night? No, looks like you fucked yourself out of those.” You pull the bedsheet closer to you, gritting your teeth, blinking away your tears.

“Yoongi...”

“Hmm?” He leans against the bedpost, the clothes hanger hanging off one finger. You want to punch him, but you know you're walking on thin ice already.

“P-please help me.”

“You lost the clothes I got you. Why should I give you more?” You can tell he’s itching to humiliate you.

“So you’re just going to leave me here naked?!” you yell at him.

His eyes narrow. He grabs the bedsheet and pulls, dragging it off your body before you can stop him. You wrap your arms around your chest and pull your legs together.

“I should, after what you did!” Yoongi screams, “Whoring yourself out to my friends. Two at the same time, enjoy yourself? Fucking slut.” His words sting you. How could you fuck up so badly, you just let yourself become overtaken by lust.

“Now look at you. You let them take advantage of you. They used you and they left you with nothing. What would you have done if I didn’t find you?” He crosses his arms, his cold eyes glaring at you.

You burst into tears. Is he right? Is that what they did to you? “I’m-s-so-sorry,” you manage to say between sobs.

He sighs, “I’m here now.” You need him, he’s going to make you see that. He moves closer, lifting your chin to look at him. “If they had taken this,” his hand brushes your choker, “I would have killed them.”

You look at him pleadingly, trying to silence your sniffles. He offers you the clothes hanger, “Change into this.”

---

You unzip the clothes bag and pull out a dress with a light flowery pattern. The fabric is sheer and flowy. The matching lingerie set is pastel pink and strappy. Well, even if he is an asshole at least you can count on Yoongi to make you look good. You clean up your makeup and style your hair as best you can in the empty bathroom, removing what's left of the smudged dark eyeshadow, pushing thoughts from last night away. The more you try to make sense of what transpired, the more confused you become, and remembering just makes you feel hot all over.

Yoongi pushes himself off the wall when you open the door.

There is still music playing, still people dancing, a lot less than the night before, but you’re amazed there are any at all.

“Does the party ever end?” you think out loud.

“Only if you want it to.”

Yoongi leads you outside. When you reach the backyard you realize the party truly never really ended, only moved. Partygoers lounge by the pool, drinking and eating.

“Is that a fucking mermaid?” Girls dressed up in tails lay about the pool, you're about to run towards them when Yoongi pulls you away from the pool. “Let’s eat before you decide to go make friends.”

You walk in step. He looks put together as always, wearing simple light clothes, a white shirt tucked into tan pants, an unbuttoned collared shirt on top.

“Is everyone here a House member?” You ask, finally sober enough to start learning some things.

“Yes, I thought it was obvious. It’s nothing official. Just a get-together after our quarterly meeting, something for our investors.”

Right, never did you just have a ‘get-together’ like this. It's annoying how out of touch they are.

You see the familiar faces of his friends sitting in a secluded area. Before you and Yoongi get within earshot he grabs your arm.

“If Taehyung and Jungkook try to touch you again, let me know, will you?”

Wait, Jungkook is RM? What? No way, that doesn’t make any sense. He can’t be, he was downstairs when you first met RM. But why does Yoongi think you fucked him? Jungkook is not RM. Though, you remember how he never spoke to you.

His grip on you tightens when you don’t answer, “Y/n…”

“Okay, okay.”

---

Jungkook watches you and Yoongi whispering to one another. You look flustered when Yoongi places a soft kiss on your cheek before breaking away.

He takes a deep breath, rubbing his temples to take the tension away. When he looks up again, Yoongi and you are walking towards the group, your eyes fixated on...him? Jungkook breaks eye contact and looks back at you...and you’re still staring at him. He keeps eye contact with you, face going redder and redder.

He watches as you greet his friends, eyes glancing his way too frequently to call it a coincidence. What the fuck did Yoongi tell you to make you look at him like he grew three heads?

---

“I’ll be right back.” Yoongi makes his way to the far end of the party where Seokjin is talking to another man. You watch as Yoongi embraces the stranger, it’s one of the few times you’ve seen Yoongi smile, not a self satisfied smirk or a threatening grin, but a genuine smile showing off his gums that make the intimidating man look actually cute. The stranger gives him a dimpled smile in return.

“Who’s that with Seokjin?” you ask Jimin.

He looks over to where you're pointing, Jimin's expression full of mirth, “That’s Namjoon, looks like he made it to the party after all.”

“Oh.”

Jimin pulls on your arm, turning you to him, “Let’s go swimming!”

“Oh, but I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“That’s okay, you can go in your underwear,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” Jimin whines as you get up, and you promise him it will only take a minute. You know you’d never get a chance to talk to Jungkook with Yoongi by your side, the two of them seem to have an odd tension between them. But now that Yoongi is distracted with Seokjin and Namjoon, it’s the perfect opportunity.

“Er hello?”

Jungkook’s wide doe eyes looks up at you. “Hello...”

Okay, he definitely doesn’t sound like RM. “Hi, I didn’t get to talk to you last night. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Oh, hi.”

“...hi.”

This is painfully awkward. You study his frame...he is built. The tank top he’s wearing shows off his broad shoulders and muscular tattooed arms, he looks strong like how you imagine RM. Maybe if you kiss him...

Jungkook watches as you peer over his back. “Dahlia…”

“Hmm? Oh, just call me y/n.” you insist, the alias making you feel self-conscious.

“I missed talking to you...so much.”

“We talked?” Is he really RM? No, it doesn’t feel like him at all.

Jungkook bites his lower lip. His front teeth pressing into his round lips makes him look cute, you think, like a scared rabbit.

“Yes, we used to talk a lot, before...” he bites back the words so he doesn’t make you uncomfortable. “My username is..” Ugh, Jungkook can’t believe he’s saying this to you out loud, why did he have to choose such a dumb username? “PlayboyJK.”

“Oh, oh! I remember you!” You remember your conversations with him. He was a good tipper, a bit unconventional in his requests, but he was always one of the first viewers to your stream.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you would watch me.”

“Why?”

“You’re just so...handsome? I’m just surprised, I guess!”

Jungkook’s ears go red at the compliment. You’re so perfect, you’re a goddess. He’d watch you all day every day, he’d watch you sleep. How could you think he wouldn’t want to watch you?

“I think you’re so beautiful, I like you a lot.”

“T-Thank you,”

“Are you going to start streaming again?

“Ha no no. I put all that behind me. Well, I thought I did,” you say after noticing Jungkook’s confused expression. “Um, it’s a long story.”

“Oh, you don’t have to join again. I could, um, pay you directly.”

“You’d pay me? For what?” you laugh, but you're curious to hear his answer.

“For anything, I’d pay you...just be with me.” you look into Jungkook’s wide eyes, so determined. Maybe if Yoongi had asked you this way, you would have considered it.

“I-HEY!” You squeal as Hoseok lifts you out of your seat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look of dismay as he pulls the younger man to his feet too.

Somehow you ended up in the pool with your dress still on. The sheer fabric doing little to hide the lingerie underneath for all the men to see.

---

The sun has already left the horizon while you sit on the deck of Yoongi’s yacht, drying off your body from the day's watery fun. You listen to the waves hit the walls of his boat as it sloshes around in the water, the rhythm like a whispering melody. The twilight casts everything in blue, the smell of salt and fresh air along with sound of the sea's waves is just so relaxing. What you wouldn't give to experience this all the time.

“Come back with me.” Yoongi's hushed voice breaks your trance.

“And be what, your personal servant?" you scoff, "I don’t think so.”

"What about those girls at the party? You could be like them, always having fun, the center of attention."

You bite your lip. "I don't want that." You wonder if Yoongi will believe you when you don't even believe yourself.

"Or I could just give you all my attention." He gets closer to you. "All this could be your life."

"Maybe I like my life-"

Yoongi laughs at you, earning himself a glare.

"Or I could just keep you here." He smirks down at you.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t dare me.”

You stop glaring at him, turning your head away. You watch the lights on the mansion turn on as the night settles in.

“Do you really want to go back to that boring job?” You roll your eyes at his words. “Don’t you want more? To have fun? I’ll give you everything you want."

"I don’t think you could give me everything."

"Just try. You can always go back, I’m sure that manager friend of yours would rehire you."

You sigh, breathing in deep the salty air.

“I would have to put in my two weeks...”

---

Hobi’s scene was fun to write, I haven’t been to parties or dancing in so long I was like what the hell happens again? Now I wanna dance! Reader who said Yoongi will throw her into the sea last chapter you made me laugh so hard I almost considered making him do that lol. I guess there’s still some time to piss him off enough! Do you believe Yoongi? What do you think (or want) to happen next? <3

[roseharpermaxwell]

NottPott Recs

NottPott is my favorite Dramione side pairing. There's something very endearing about Harry and Theo together. Credit to @olivieblake for the introduction to this pairing, which features in many of her works. One of my favorites is a chapter in Amortentia called Brick. It's not necessarily the typical Dramione characterization of Theo, but it's very compelling.

I'm such a huge fan of Theo as a canon character who is essentially a blank canvas! I have a specific favorite flavor of him: the self-deprecating, snarky, good friend, which seems unique to Dramione. It’s a little difficult to just sort for those types of NottPott fics in Ao3, because not all stories have the same vibe/dynamic.

I’ve listed lots of Dramione fics where NottPott show up as a side pairing at the end, but here are some main courses:

The Blowjob Negotiation by Frumpologist. M, 1.1k. Harry is working late (again), and Theo is annoyed because he had the perfect evening planned. (A blowjob—he wanted to give Harry a blowjob).

figure it out by @ambpersand. E, 1.1k. Theodore Nott was about to come in his trousers.

Yes, Easy Question by macxboyle. T, 1.1k. Because what began as an innocent crush on the quiet cursebreaker who so frequently consults on Harry's investigations has worn itself into the sort of bone-deep longing that makes itself known during those calm hours between middle of the night and first thing in the morning.

Those calm hours when Harry finds himself very much awake and very much thinking of Theodore Nott.

The smirk before he says something clever. The ink stains on his fingertips. The lilt of his brogue. The dimples.

Those fucking dimples.

Worse Things by @indreamsink. T, 1.3k. Only for Harry Potter would Theo willingly ride in a Muggle vehicle.

In Finding You, I Found Myself by @caitlincheri28. T, 1.3k. Harry Potter has always been lost. He has always felt like he's stumbling around in the dark. Will he ever find the light switch?

Round and Fluffy by @caitybellfics. M, 1.5k. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter arrive at the DMLE to retrieve their spouses.

In My Blood by WritingFicariously. T, 1.6k. The war is over but Harry Potter still suffers with nightmares that plague him night after night. A new Auror partner helps, but so does the process of being inked, of having his loved ones immortalized on his skin and in his veins.

Flyboys by @misdemeanor1331. G, 1.7k. Harry gets arrested, Theo bails him out, and a bigot’s life is ruined.

The Not-Birthday Party by @faeorabel. G, 2.8k. Harry freaks out when he realises he didn't know Theo's birthday was coming up. Draco helps him come up with a plan for a surprise party, never letting him in on the fact it's not actually Theo's birthday.

Rendezvous Receipts by @mightbewriting. G, 3k. Harry wasn’t sure Theo had looked at the front of the class a single time since the lesson had begun. His entire focus, and a substantial amount of his quite overwhelming charm, seemed centered exclusively on Harry.

Pub Crawl by In_Dreams. M, 3k. Three Animagi walk into a bar; Harry Potter is over this shit.

The Quest for Potter’s Pants by @frumpologist. T, 3.4k. As a dare during their 8th year, Theo has to take polyjuice and infiltrate the Gryffindor common room and return with Harry Potter's trunks. But as the night turns to dawn, Theo learns the truth about what it's been like for Harry and the even harder truth that he might want more from the Golden Boy than just his trunks.

Apprehending the Auror by @dumbledoodlewriting. M, 3.8k. When Alaric Hardwood turned out to be Nott who he seemed, Harry Potter thought he was going to have an aneurysm. Or a wank. Or both.

be my good boy by @korabethart. E, 4.2k. Harry’s breath quickened, and his pulse thrummed in his ears as Theo looked him over. They’d been intimate before but tonight was different. Tonight, there was a promise of something more. Harry was ready to give it all.

Yes, Chef by @whimsymanaged. M, 4.5k. When Harry joined Yes, Chef! to prove himself as the best cook of the season, he didn't expect to win the biggest prize of all.

Prom Kings by @scullymurphy. M, 4.6k. “Empty again,” Harry said as Nott cut the engine. He took a moment to wonder what exactly they were doing here, glancing over at Theo’s profile, his heart racing.

Theo Nott. He was alone in a dark, private lookout with Theo Nott. Beautiful, eccentric, sardonic, gay-as-fuck Theo.

Part of him was fucking thrilled. Part of him was terrified. Everyone knew about Theo, but Harry wondered if Theo knew about him.

Theo shifted and turned to Harry. “Well.” His brow went up. “You want to get high?"

A Gryffindor Party by @crochetawayhpff. E, 5k. Theo and his friends attend a party hosted by the Gryffindors and discover that perhaps all the animosity over the years was really sexual tension all along.

Proper Pronunciation by @heyjude19-writing. E, 5.9k. Theo’s request for assistance with a cursed heirloom bounces from the Cursed Artefacts Office to Magical Law Enforcement.

Because the Ministry employs exactly one Auror fluent in Parseltongue.

And now Harry Potter is standing in Theo’s study, speaking harsh sounds at a jewelry box encrusted with emerald serpents.

Pleasure in the Prefect’s Bathroom by serpent_and_sage. E, 6k (more than just NottPott going on here, lol) A late night trip to the Prefect's bathroom with four wizards ends well for Hermione Granger.

Miraculous by @ravenpuff-love. M, 6.3k. It starts with a memo, it ends with a baby. . .

Hail the Conquering Hero by frumpologist. T, 6.6k. Theo’s fascination with Potter started during the second task of the Twi-Wizard Tournament. It survived through the Ministry invasion of Hogwarts, the death of their beloved Headmaster, and the fall of the Dark Lord. They’d won—almost. *this one's a gutpunch and has an untagged (to not spoil the ending) heavy plot point; feel free to message me if you want spoiled.

No Expectations by In_Dreams. M, 6.9k. To avoid attending Hermione's promotion dinner solo after a breakup, Harry agrees to a blind date for appearances only. But his resolve crumbles when his arranged date is the disdainfully gorgeous Theo Nott.

Just Gryffindor Enough by In_Dreams. M, 7k. After being assigned to a class project with Harry Potter, Theo's life takes an unexpected turn that he isn't certain he cares for. But he doesn't exactly dislike it, either.

With Every Single Word by @caitlincheri. E, 7k. After the war, Harry is lost and directionless. It only takes falling in love and running away to discover that what he's searching for is right back where he started.

I WANNA SEE SOME ARSE by @the-francakes. E, 10k. Harry Potter has a beautiful arse. Round and plump. Made of pure muscle and just enough fat that it'll probably give a lovely jiggle if you spank it. It’s like a peach that bounces with each step; a bruise would be both a shame and delight.

Theo is sure he’s about to drown in the amount of drool in his mouth that he can’t swallow down fast enough. And he’s a good swallower. He’s been told that multiple times.

“You and Potter will be rooming together,” Draco says, slapping the hotel key into Theo’s chest.

Theo chokes on his spit. “What…fuck? Why!?”

Songbird by @thusatlas. E, 11k. Theo burned when he was hidden by shadows. It was simply a fact of his life. After all these years, after everything he had gone through, why did he find his light in the shadowed tomb of Azkaban?

Harry Potter: Cupcake Wars by justasnake. T, 11.8k. Following the Second Wizarding War, the cast of Harry Potter competes on the Food Network show Cupcake Wars, for vague reasons about unity and reconciliation. It's pretty silly.

Shine a Light by @canttouchthis87. M, 12.6k. Harry’s life is unrecognizable, a long forgotten painting that’s slowly been chipped away. But lost in the thicket of shadows, it can be hard to see the light.

Moonbeams and Heartbeats by @malfoysraven and @noxsoulmate. G, 15.8k. After owning and running her own coffee shop for a few years, Luna has had the pleasure of interacting with a wide range of personalities. Even when famous musicians started coming in because of Twin Weasley Records opening a new branch nearby, she didn’t bat an eye. After so long working with the public she feels like she can read people pretty well by now, maybe even see when there’s a connection between them. And never had she been so sure than when she witnessed the first meeting between indie singer Theo Nott and internationally renowned singer Harry Potter. Ever since their first interaction, Luna had a feeling these two could be a perfect match. Now if only the two parties involved could get with the program.

NottPott Chronicles series by @amarillis39 and @missmrah (art and fic collabs). T-E, 27k. A series of moments from Theo and Harry’s lives as they learn to navigate their relationship, deal with their demons or just simply revel in each other’s company.

Lethal Combination by olivieblake. M, 28k. It occurred to Harry that Theo Nott was something of a rarity; a prince among fakes, or a fake among princes. He was definitely also a liar, though Harry didn't know what kind. He figured he was about to find out. Nottpott, modern university AU.

I’m not a huge self-rec person, but my love for this pairing emboldens me, so I wrote one as well: Chaperones (M, 5.5k, with a side of Dramione). "I'm going to court Granger," Draco said around a mouthful of toothpaste. He spat into their sink and rinsed his mouth, leaning against the doorframe with a casual air that belied the enormity of such a statement. "We need you to be our chaperone."

Theo closed his astronomy textbook, using a thumb to hold his place. "I'm sorry, what?"

Draco nodded, as though he'd expected disbelief. "Courting Granger. That's something I'm doing now."

Multiple Pairings/Triads:

Someone Else by Maurauve. G, 2.8k. (Also present: Ginny/Harry, Blaisy/Ginny).

Closer by @shayalonnie. E, 7.9k. (NottPott, Haphne, Harry/Theo/Daphne).

Unraveling a Nott by WritingFicariously. T, 15k. (Theomione, NottPott, Dramione, Hermione/Oliver).

Divination for Skeptics by olivieblake. M, 98k. (multiple pairings).

Modern Romance by olivieblake (multiple pairings). E, 280k.

How to Win Friends and Influence People by olivieblake. M, 386k. M (multiple pairings).

Drabbles:

Truth Serum by mightbewriting. E, 478 words.

Parseltongue by HeyJude19. E, 498 words.

The Alcove by @wish123dramione. T, 567 words.

Hot Chocolate by GhostIsReading. 598 words.

Serendipity by @sunflower-swan G, 630 words.

Christmas Traditions by @sophhao3. G, 697 words.

Secrets and Mistletoe by @notamugglemiss. T, 800 words.

Alone Together by happy_valley. 805 words.

Last Drabble Writer Standing NottPott drabble collection

NottPott side pairings, all with main pairing Dramione unless noted:

It Ended with Fanfiction by Frumpologist. M, 1.1k

Some things, however by Frumpologist. T, 1.2k

Faith by @kyonomiko. T, 2.3k

Proper Party Etiquette by @ladykenz347. E, 3.5k

Rendezvous Interrupted by BoredRavenvlaw620. M, 4.2k.

Apples With Benefits by Frumpologist. E, 4.3k (main pairing: Sirmione)

SPF50 by @purplesugarquills. T, 4.4k

Loving Her Was Green by @niffizzle. E, 4.9k

Liquid Courage by In_Dreams. M, 5k

Dare to Dream by @dreamsofdramione. E, 5.4k (main pairing: Jamione)

The One Where Hermione Finds Out by Maira. M, 5.4k.

An Inconvenient Flutter by niffizzle. T, 6.4k

There and Back Again by Frumpologist. M, 6.5k

Lead Me Straight Back Home by me, again. E, 7.8k

Phoenix by @kedavranox. E, 9.2k (NottPott, Harry/Blaise, Seamus/Harry, main pairing of Drarry).

The Start of Forever by In_Dreams. M, 9.3k

Riptide by @acciomjolnir. M, 11k

The First Rule of Fight Club… by LadyKenz347. M, 15k

Stag by In_Dreams. M, 16k

Snowy-Peaked Promises by In_Dreams. E, 16k

Every Little Thing She Does (Is Magic) by @monsterleadmehome. E, 18k

Penance by Frumpologist. M, 19k

Tea and Necromancy by @saveourskinship. M, 40k

Never in Heart by In_Dreams. E, 47k

Safe Home by khakis. E, 57k.

Waifs and Strays by kyonomiko. M, 118k.

Adrift by In_Dreams. E, 177k

I hope you find some NottPott that strikes your fancy! If you’re finding this as a reblog, feel free to check my Master List of Recommendations (pinned) for updates and other rec lists.

[gch1995]

How the hell do you know that the producers of the OWK show aten't putting effort in OW's character? You got all of that from Vader being in the show as well? Time to tell the fans of Rogue One,The Rebels and Fallen Order that their heroes were shit, because everything was about Vader making an appearance. In case of Obi-Wan it makes sense that he'll have to confront Vader again to be able to accept his past and achieve that blue ghost status. Vader used to be a vital part of his life after all.

Except by the time we get to the Obi-Wan Kenobi in A New Hope, he clearly hasn’t learned from his past mistakes. The only time it would be fair to assume he learned anything from his past mistakes with Anakin, Luke, and the old Jedi Order would be after he died when he was watching Anakin sacrifice his life to save his son out of selfless love because he offered him compassion and empathy, which he never really did.

Yeah, Vader tells Luke once “Obi Wan once thought as you did,” but we also know that, while he did spend his earlier years in denial of his culpability for his crimes and mistakes under Sidious on the high of the dark side to compartmentalize his guilt, pain, and self-hatred, at that point in Return of the Jedi, Anakin had also become completely and honestly despondent and resigned to being Sidious’s slave out of extreme fear and self-loathing to the point that he feels as though that he can’t escape and doesn’t deserve any better for the rest of his life anymore.

He’s also been a victim of corrupt, oppressive, and abusive authority his entire life, including Obi-Wan, and he’s often gone back-and-forth between idealizing and sympathizing with his abusers and oppressors and having revenge fantasies against them, so it’s not implausible that Anakin probably eventually looked back on his relationship with Obi-Wan, Yoda, and the Jedi council as less of a victim of theirs in the past than he actually was because he hates himself and there were very few people he had personal or professional relationships with who were genuinely good people and positive influences themselves. The only exceptions I can think of are Shmi, Padme (somewhat), Ahsoka (somewhat), and most of all Luke. That’s four people in his life next to Obi-Wan, Yoda, the Council, Palpatine, Watto, Tarkin, the Sith, the members of the Empire, and so on.

Anyway, back to Obi-Wan’s character clearly not having grown in the OT movies. He deliberately deceives and manipulates an innocent Luke Skywalker to try to get him to clean up the mess that he and Yoda inadvertently helped create with his father 19 years ago, and then when Luke actually finds out the truth from Vader and calls him out on his shit, Obi-Wan’s like “I didn’t lie. When your father was seduced to the dark side, the good man Anakin Skywalker died, so what I told you was true, from a certain point of view.”

He’s convinced that Yoda would have done a better job than him with Anakin by being harder on him than he was, even though the narrative of both the OT and PT repeatedly show and suggest that Obi-Wan failed Anakin by being too emotionally closed off and distant when Anakin tried to get close in his desperation to be a “perfect Jedi,” and it eventually got to a point where Anakin wasn’t willing to trust him at all anymore. 

Finally, as much as I hate to say it, the ability to become a force ghost doesn’t really say much about a Jedi’s morality. It just means they died as Jedi with self-control.

Within the main narrative as a foil to Anakin and Luke and as a symbol of just how deeply flawed the old Jedi Order was in its stagnation, Obi-Wan Kenobi cannot be a dynamic character between RotS and the end of ROTJ without previously established characterization and development getting erased and/or undermined in those main stories.

If they wanted to do an origin story of how Obi-Wan became the infuriatingly stubborn and complacently corrupt “true believer” Jedi he did in the PT and OT movies before meeting Luke and Anakin, or show his growth in character after Anakin’s sacrifice for Luke in the afterlife, then it could make sense, but you can’t really believe he had any sort of major growth from Revenge of the Sith to the end of ROTJ before seeing Anakin sacrifice his life. It’s not his role to be that character.

Sure, static and flat characters may not make for very compelling characters, but when they are written to be that way to symbolize a theme, act as a guide, or act as a foil to the main character in a story, they don’t need to be compelling and dynamic characters. In fact, it would ruin the overall story if they were. I see Obi-Wan and Yoda in those ways.

[ilovejevsjeans]

How Olympian race engineer Tom Stallard helped coach Daniel Ricciardo to Monza victory

Daniel Ricciardo and the ever-improving McLaren team were seen as a match made in Heaven ahead of the start of the 2021 season. But while it all came good at the Italian Grand Prix, Ricciardo’s win at Monza was a product of hours and hours of unseen work, and some confidence-shaking moments along the way. F1 Staff Writer Greg Stuart sat down with Tom Stallard, the man who’s race engineered Ricciardo throughout 2021, to trace the arc of that breakthrough Monza win.

You could make a strong case that Lap 52 of the Monaco Grand Prix marked the nadir in Daniel Ricciardo’s first season with McLaren. As the Australian exited Sainte Devote and accelerated up the hill, he dutifully jinked left to allow team mate Lando Norris to lap him, Norris acknowledging the gesture with a wave from his cockpit. Norris would go on to finish third. Ricciardo, who’d brilliantly won in Monaco just three years earlier for Red Bull, finished out of the points in 12th.

That was May – and yet just four months later, Ricciardo had taken McLaren back to the winner’s circle for the first time since 2012, capping off a superb Italian Grand Prix weekend with an emotional victory at Monza, and leading Norris home in a McLaren one-two.

How did that happen? Ricciardo’s race engineer Tom Stallard has been the man F1 fans have heard soothing and chivvying Ricciardo over team radio this year, a year in which success has been harder to come by than many had anticipated – and he was naturally delighted when Ricciardo combined all his learnings to take the assured win in Monza, his first victory since that 2018 Monaco triumph.

“I was super proud,” Stallard tells me as we chat in the paddock in Sochi, “because we've worked really hard this year to be honest, and it was nice to see him executing everything that we'd talked about and worked on.

“Obviously he did a fantastic job, but he actually did the job that we'd been talking about and working on together. He's a top driver, obviously, joined our team as a top driver, but we’ve actually had to work at it quite hard and in Monza, he really executed that.”

Why didn’t Ricciardo and McLaren gel immediately? Ricciardo’s stellar second half of 2020 with Renault – during which he took two podiums and finished every race in the points – combined with McLaren’s sharp upward trajectory and the arrival of Mercedes power units at the team for 2021, meant that many earmarked the Ricciardo/McLaren combination as a potential surprise package this season.

But despite claiming points in his first four races for the team – including convincingly leading Norris home in Barcelona – right from the off, Stallard says, there were issues.

“I think the Bahrain race [where Ricciardo finished P7 to Norris’ P4 on his McLaren debut] he did quite well, but that was with a lot of time in the car in the [Bahrain] test – I mean, not a lot of time but a bit of time at the test, and a circuit that suits him well,” says Stallard.

“And then at Imola [where Ricciardo finished P6 as Norris claimed a podium in P3] we kind of exposed the problems, if you like, that he was having with the car, and we understood the struggle that we would have.”

As you might expect from an engineer of Stallard’s experience (he joined McLaren back in 2008) his first reaction to the situation wasn’t to panic, but to put in place processes to help bring Ricciardo on.

“We put in place a plan of what we needed to do differently and how we needed to react. And since then actually, we've been on an upward trajectory from that point, but you don't always necessarily see that from the outside.

“There have been a number of races where after the race, he's been frustrated and I've been reassuring him that actually we are seeing progress, and we don't have the good results yet but they're coming.”

So what was it about the MCL35M that wasn’t suiting Ricciardo and his driving style?

“Ultimately,” says Stallard, “all the drivers would choose the same thing, which is very good rear stability, and front end that increases as you add steer. That is totally universal, but the truth is that having a car that does that is the Holy Grail of Formula 1 design; every team up and down this paddock is trying to do that, and succeeding to a greater or lesser extent.

“We have a car that understeers and that's been something that he's had to adapt to and modify his natural approach to get the best out of.”

One thing Stallard is at pains to point out is that, for all of Ricciardo’s famously insouciant manner, beneath the gigawatt smile there lurks one of the world’s top racing drivers, with a work ethic to match.

“Obviously Daniel seems like the most laidback guy in the world,” says Stallard, “but behind the scenes, under the water, the duck feet are going quite quickly.

“Because we were in lockdown and he was in Los Angeles [over the winter break], we did most of his initial integration virtually, and during that phase, he learnt all the switches, what all the toys do, how to use the steering wheel.

"We spent a lot of time talking through the strategy with Daren [Stanley], our strategist. And actually all the communication side, all of the switches, all the controls, he had completely down by the time he went to winter testing.

“He's been in the factory loads, doing the simulator, partly working on his driving with that, but also giving feedback to the team about what he wants from the car,” adds Stallard.

“And at no point during the phase where he was getting up to speed with our package did he question that there was any kind of, the team backing the other driver, or the engineers didn't know what they were doing, or the car was set-up wrong. He just knuckled down, got on with the work, and I think that the whole team has a lot of respect for him for that.”

Ricciardo endured an up-and-down run of form leading up to the summer break, the lows including a tough Styrian Grand Prix where he finished 13th to Norris’ fifth and a Hungarian Grand Prix where first lap contact with Charles Leclerc hobbled his McLaren, leaving him 11th at the flag.

But Ricciardo appeared rejuvenated after the summer break, nailing his best qualifying of the year at that point with P4 on the grid in Belgium – while after a race to forget for the whole McLaren team in Zandvoort, Ricciardo then put together what would ultimately be his winning weekend in Monza, qualifying P5 on Friday, racing to P3 in Saturday’s F1 Sprint before claiming that sensational victory in the race.

Indeed, it was Ricciardo’s anger at qualifying P5 on Friday at Monza (and just 0.006s off his team mate) that seemed to indicate that a change had come in the Australian’s expectations of the level he should be performing at – with Stallard noting the key difference in Ricciardo since the summer…

“I think the ‘frustration at being P5’ thing was there all along,” says Stallard. “For me, the difference with the break is that it helped him not overthink it, so he's adapted better to the way you have to drive our car without it being completely conscious every corner, what you need to do.

Daniel's easy to work with, because if you give him a problem to solve, he goes away and works at it, so the work ethic's always been good, which makes life easy,” adds Stallard. “He doesn't defer responsibility away from himself; he takes a lot on the chin, which means some of what I've had to do is keeping him, let's say, up, because he's taken a lot of responsibility for things himself.

“But from my side, that means he's great to work with, and that collaboration is very strong. And when we got to Monza, we both had a lot of confidence in each other, so that made the result in Monza feel very natural.”

Going forward

Ricciardo leading McLaren to their first victory since Jenson Button’s 2012 Brazilian Grand Prix triumph, and their first one-two since the 2010 Canadian Grand Prix, was a fantastic moment for all at McLaren, and one that was warmly welcomed by most in the F1 paddock.

But Stallard was under no illusions during our chat in Sochi that Ricciardo is still on a journey to being fully comfortable in McLaren’s MCL35M car this season – a point Ricciardo would then back up himself a few days later when, despite finishing P4 in the Russian Grand Prix, he admitted that “there is still some stuff missing”.

“In Monza, the circuit and our technical package aligned well,” says Stallard, “and actually last year we came second there, so it's a circuit that suits our car and obviously Daniel did a very good job putting it all together, and the strategy was correct.

“He now understands how to drive the car; I think he's felt that himself rather than it just being explained to him, which means we have made another step. But it's a much more linear process than it appears from the outside.”

What Ricciardo does have in his corner, meanwhile – apart from the work ethic and talent that have made him an eight-time Grand Prix winner – is a race engineer in Stallard who has been an elite athlete himself, forming part of Great Britain’s silver medal-winning men’s eight rowing crew at the 2008 Beijing Olympics.

And Stallard believes that his own experience as an athlete can help get the best out of Ricciardo, who signed to McLaren on a three-year deal that will take him into Formula 1’s bold new era of regulations with the team.

“In this sport, 20 years ago, the race engineers were very much engineers,” says Stallard. “But now we are coaches, and so we're using the data to guide the drivers in how to get the best out of the car.

“So I see myself now as a coach and I have a lot of experience of being coached, whereas a lot of the other race engineers… don't necessarily have the same experience of being coached. And I think that does give me an insight in terms of the struggles that people have when being coached, especially in a sport where on the way up, drivers often aren't coached that much and it gives me a good ability to manage the pressure and stay calm in what would be a pressured situation as well.

“And I also think that on any journey, although I describe it as a linear process, there's still ups and downs, and there'll be events in the future that are more difficult and that we'll have to respond to and react to. It would be naive to think it's plain sailing from here – but I think that it's a good next step.”(X)