#last time i made a prediction it came incredibly true

[m4rs-ex3]

i very much want it to be that the reason rayla won't kill callum is because, for once, she chooses to be selfish.

we know that in general callum has a tendency to sacrifice the greater good for his loved ones and rayla has a tendency to sacrifice herself for the greater good, but i think that extends to her loved ones (she knew how bad leaving would hurt callum [and even though her reasoning is to keep him safe, it was also a general "i need to rid the world of this evil" deal]).

killing callum would mean sacrificing something that means even more to her than herself for the sake of the world. chances are she won't, and i want that to be because of the fact that she chooses to have callum in her life (or at least for him not die by her hand), fate of the world be DAMMED.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

I Believe You, But Tell Me Again

(x)

Summary: Y/N is wondering if Jensen still sees her as he used to.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Lots of fluffy smut. Sexy af Jensen. Rockstar!Jensen. Definitely a warning. Unprotected PinV sex. Oral (f receiving), Brief fingering, some slightly insecure thoughts, established relationship. Fluff.

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 3,314

A/N: This fic is a request by @lacilou .

I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but I can't get this out of my head. Jensen, in the photo you're using for Off and On Again. Where he's super hot, and he knows it. Kinda cocky but totally in love with the reader (established relationship - married, long-time girlfriend??) And reader doesn't understand why he's so into her, but she KNOWS it even though Jensen has to remind her with "Feel this? It's all for you, "while he's holding the reader's hand over his bulge. If you could throw in "this what you want?" while he's slowly stroking himself as he walks towards the reader, lust in his eyes.

I hope you enjoy it sweetie, and everyone else too.

The dividers below were created by @talesmaniac89

The lights were bright, slightly blinding, as Y/N sat in front of the two cameras aimed at her. There were two cameras so they could decide later on which side was her better side. Or possibly her worse side, depending on the tone of the interview. 

Y/N squinted at the primped and stylish woman sitting across from her getting her makeup touched up. She wondered, would this interview be a friendly one? An interview to say, “Look everyone! Aren’t the Ackles great?” Or would it be one of those interviews that had an edge of nasty hovering just beneath the smile of the interviewer. 

She watched this interviewer, Shauna, pull away from her makeup artist, scowling. “It’s fine, Lisa. Just leave it alone.” 

Uh oh.

The interview started off friendly enough, touching on the things most journalists talked to her about - Jensen’s incredible skyrocketing success, his status as a rockstar icon, what a talent he was. As Jensen’s biggest fan, Y/N always enjoyed those kinds of questions. She couldn’t get enough of bragging about her ridiculously talented husband. 

But then the mood of the interview shifted and Shauna started asking much more pointed questions. 

“Now, Y/N, you and Jensen have been married over a decade now, right?” Y/N nodded. “Is there a secret to your success?” Shauna was smiling, but Y/N could see that her gray eyes were calculating.

It was a question she’d been asked a lot in the last couple of years as their ten year anniversary came and went. People seemed very interested in the fact that their marriage had lasted so much longer than had been anticipated. When Jensen had started dating her, just a nobody from nowhere, everyone had predicted it wouldn’t last. 

People on social media and angry people with podcasts all had an opinion on their relationship.

-- She’s not cut out for the limelight.

-- It’s way too hard for someone like her.

-- She’s not used to the media. She’s gonna break under the pressure.

-- He’s a rockstar who could literally get any girl he wanted. So, what’s up with him picking her?

-- It won’t last. These showbiz marriages never do.

But ten years on, now people were wondering how they actually made it to a decade. “What’s the secret?” They all wanted to know.

“There’s really no secret, Shauna.” Y/N said with a smile. “When two people are madly in love with each other, when they respect each other and work together as partners, staying together becomes much easier.” 

It was a variation on the same answer she’d given dozens of times. It happened to be true, but Y/N was still tired of trying to find new ways to explain to people that they got married because they loved each other, and they stayed married because the alternative was unthinkable for either of them.

Shauna smiled a sharp smile. “And in all those years, you’ve never been worried about the rock and roll lifestyle…leading Jensen astray?”

Y/N kept smiling because she couldn’t falter and let the reporter know she’d scored a hit. They weren’t usually that pointed with the infidelity question. Usually they skirted around it, saying things like, “Does it ever get hard when he’s on the road?” or “You must miss him when he’s touring. How do you keep tabs on him?” 

Y/N’s personal favorite version of this question came from a middle-aged woman reporter with lipstick on her teeth. “Have you ever just shown up to surprise him, or tried to catch him being naughty?” It was said with a cheeky grin as though they were just besties chatting, but Y/N had wanted to snatch the woman bald.

Shauna’s version of the question was the closest anyone had ever come to asking her outright, “Do you worry about your husband cheating on you?”

Y/N kept smiling and shook her head. “No, never. If you knew Jensen, you wouldn’t wonder about it either. He’s the most loyal man I’ve ever known, and the most honorable. I know beyond a doubt that he doesn’t take our vows lightly, and that he would never, ever hurt me like that.”

Shauna seemed slightly taken aback by Y/N’s adamant, genuine answer, clearly expecting some anger or some kind of dramatic reaction from her. When she didn't get it, the reporter just smiled again.

“So sweet.” Was her response, acid dripping from her words.

***

The day of interviews had taken quite a bit out of Y/N, especially the last one, and she was tired as she wandered out to the limousine that was waiting to take her and Jensen back to their hotel, whenever he was done with his part of the press junket.

The limo driver opened the door for her and smiled. “Fatima says Mr. Ackles is almost finished and will be out in about ten minutes. Do you want to wait for him? Or should I take you and send another car for him?”

Y/N smiled back and shook her head. “No, let’s wait for him.”

“Okay, great.” The driver said as he closed the door behind her. 

In less than ten minutes, she saw Jensen push out of the double doors, and amble towards the car. He wore black jeans that clung to his thick thighs, and a gray t-shirt covered by a black, long-sleeved denim shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins and corded muscles in his forearms - muscles he’d gained by long hours spent playing the guitar.

As he got closer to the car, she watched him push a hand through his long hair, sweeping it off his forehead, and she sighed deeply. Good God, he was so stunningly sexy. 

Even when he was just walking, he moved with the same seductive grace he used like a siren song onstage. No matter how many times Y/N watched him in concert, she never got used to that kind of magnetic, cocky seductiveness that poured out of him when he was singing. He knew he drove people crazy. He knew it, and it just made him smile.

He was smiling now as he climbed into the car. “Hey beautiful.”

Y/N smiled tiredly at him, feeling her heart warm at his usual greeting. When he settled into the seat, he reached over and pulled her into his lap.

She squealed lightly as he lifted her, and then chuckled. “You know there are seatbelts we’re supposed to be wearing.”

Jensen shrugged and squeezed her tighter against him. “Nah! I gotcha.” 

Y/N laughed again. “Oh, okay then.” She said, snuggling closer to him. The interview had knocked her off kilter a bit, and it felt especially good to have Jensen’s arms wrapped around her. 

She tucked her head under his chin, and he ran his big hand up and down her arm. “Hey,” he said with concern lacing his voice, “everything okay?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, just a long day sitting in the same room, being asked basically the same questions.” She shrugged. “I just wanna get home. Or, well, hotel.”

Jensen accepted her answer, kissing her forehead and then her lips. “Me too.” 

They ordered in their dinner, neither of them keen to face more crowds and questions, and spent the evening watching some trashy reality TV before calling it a night a bit earlier than usual.

Y/N went into the bathroom to get ready. She brushed her teeth and took off her makeup, and as she stood in front of the mirror she looked at her face closely. 

There were some lines there that hadn’t been there when she first met Jensen. She knew there was a gray hair or two hiding amongst the rest that also hadn't existed back then. 

She pulled her silk nightgown tight against her body and could see where she was rounder than she had been when she was younger. Her muscle tone wasn’t as good. 

I should hit the gym more, she thought.

She pinched one of her love handles and pulled at her skin, wondering what Jensen really thought about all these changes. She knew he loved her, knew that he’d always found her attractive. But how was that holding up these days? Did he still feel the same kind of heat for her? Did he still want her as desperately as she still wanted him?

She jumped slightly as Jensen popped up in the mirror behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, and nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck. He wore his pajama bottoms and nothing more. She looked at his biceps flexing around her as he squeezed her back against him, and his round, muscled shoulders, broad and strong, and she sighed. He was still so unbelievably perfect.

She lightly tapped his forearm where it rested just below her breasts. “You scared me.” She said, her voice accusatory.

He chuckled. “Sorry, I thought you heard me.” He caught her eye in the mirror. “But you seemed to be lost in thought.”

He moved his lips to her temple. “What thoughts are swirling around in that beautiful mind of yours? Hmm?” He murmured. 

She shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing.” 

Jensen’s face in the mirror wore a disbelieving look. “Don’t believe that for a second.” He pulled back slightly, and turned her in his arms so she was facing him. A small line of worry was creased between his brows.

“You’ve been quiet all evening; something is obviously on your mind.”

Y/N shrugged again and looked down at their bare feet. “Just tired.”

Jensen put his knuckle under her chin and made her look at him. “Y/N. Tell me.”

Y/N was caught completely by surprise as her eyes welled up with tears. She didn’t know where these doubts were coming from or why she was feeling this way. Maybe it was just one too many snide questions.

Jensen’s face crumpled as he saw her tears. He cupped her cheeks and brushed them away as they spilled over her lashes. “Baby.” His voice was worried and confused. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? What happened?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, nothing happened. Really. It was just this reporter.” 

Jensen waited for her to continue, but his worried expression darkened slightly in anger.

Y/N bit her lip and debated what to tell him, how to explain the feelings she barely understood herself. Finally she just went for the honesty they’d always had with each other; they’d never been afraid to ask for what they needed from one another, and what she needed was reassurance.

“Do you still want me? I mean, the same as you used to.”

Jensen seemed completely taken aback by the question. Clearly that hadn’t been where he expected this conversation to go. He shook his head.

“Why would you even ask that? Of course I do.”

Y/N frowned. “Don’t just tell me what I want to hear. Please, tell me the truth. Are there things about me you’d change if you could?”

Jensen’s expression turned thunderous and he dropped his hands from her cheeks to grip her upper arms. “Y/N.” He said firmly. “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from? Of course I don’t want you to change.”

“I don’t mean my personality, or whatever.” Y/N explained wiping her tears away with both hands. “But my face or my body, the way I look. I know it isn’t the same as when we first met.”

Jensen shook his head, his voice incredulous. “Well no, you don’t look exactly the same as the day I met you over a decade ago.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “But you know, I’m pretty sure I don’t either.”

Y/N felt her skin flush. “But you’ve just gotten hotter.” She frowned. “Guys do that.” 

She opened her mouth to say something more, but Jensen slammed his mouth down on hers, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and invading her completely. She let out a little whimper as his hands let go of her arms to grab her ass and press her hard against him. He kissed her long, deep, swallowing every soft moan.

When he pulled back his voice was husky with want. “Baby, I don’t know where these questions are coming from, but I know the answers.” 

He grabbed Y/N’s hand and placed it on his hard cock where it tented his pajama bottoms, obviously not restrained by underwear. She bit her lip as he closed his eyes and groaned when she wrapped her fingers around him. 

“Feel this? It’s all for you, all because of you. Fuck, Y/N do you see what you do to me? Still? Always?” He pushed aside some of the bottles and jars that littered the countertop and lifted her onto it easily. His hand slipped between her legs and he groaned at her bare, wet pussy. “Believe me when I tell you that I want you. Every day. All the time. Years don’t change that.”

He shook his head. “In fact they just make things better cause now I know what happens if I do this.” 

He dipped his head, sucking her satin clad nipple into his mouth, while his thick middle finger slid inside her body at the same time. A strangled cry left her lips and she thumped her head back against the mirror.

She felt him smile against her. “Exactly.”

He took his hand out of her to tug on her nightgown. She shifted slightly so he could pull the silky material over her head as he continued.  “And yet, your body’s always a revelation to me. It never stops fascinating me.” His eyes followed the path of his fingers as he trailed them down her arms and then over the soft swell of her breasts. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin and her nipples puckered.

He circled his forefinger around the tight little bud, before dipping his head once again to flick the tip of his tongue against it. 

Y/N moaned deeply and wrapped her fingers up in his honey brown locks. “Jensen.” She gasped as he sucked her breast into his mouth and drew on it deeply, causing her cunt to clench and quiver.

He pulled her forward, to the edge of the counter, and then dropped to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her wide open so he could reach his tongue up to tease her hole. Y/N plunged her hand back into his hair and tugged on it before pushing his head harder against her dripping pussy. 

“God, fuck Jensen, yes.” She rambled.

He hummed against her folds before nibbling at her clit, making her knees try to lock around his ears. But his superior strength kept her legs spread wide so he could feast. He breathed hot against her, alternating between flicking his tongue against her clit and sucking it between his plump, luscious lips.

It wasn’t long before Y/N was bucking against his mouth as she rode out her climax while he lapped up her juices. She panted desperately and tugged on his hair again, begging him. “Please Jensen, fuck me. I need to feel you, need you inside me so badly.”

Jensen stood and scooped her off the counter, walking back into their bedroom. He laid her out on the bed, making sure her head was propped up on the pillows, before stepping away from her. He moved far enough back so that she had an unencumbered view as he slowly lowered his pajama bottoms. 

His cock sprang free to lean, hard and dripping, against his stomach. Y/N felt her mouth go dry and a keening moan erupted from her throat as he gripped himself in his fist, pumping slowly.

He walked towards her one slow step at a time. His voice was a growl. “Is this what you want?” She nodded, biting her lips and trying desperately not to come again, just from watching him.

“Tell me you want it.” Jensen ordered.

Y/N nodded again, almost frantically. “Yes, fuck. I want it. I want your cock.” She reached for him as he stood barely a foot from the side of the bed. “I need it. I need you.”

Jensen climbed onto the bed on his knees, grabbing up her wrists with both hands and pressing them into the pillows on either side of her head. He stared into her eyes as he spoke. 

“And I need you too, Y/N. I need you desperately, obsessively. I need you every waking minute. I need your love and your kindness. I need your good soul and beautiful heart.” He entered her in one hard thrust and she cried out. “But I also need your soft body. I need to sink into you. I need to feel you move against me. I need to hear you say my name like a moan. I need to feel you clench tight around me.”

He began moving slowly, sliding in and out of her with silky, unhurried movements. “I will always love you. I will always want you. And I will never need you any less than completely.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “Do you understand me?”

Y/N nodded and gasped as his cock slid over her sweet spot. “Yes. Yes.” Was all she could manage to chant. But it satisfied him and he began to move faster.

He switched positions slightly so he could lift her hips off the bed, hooking her knees over his forearms. He began to slam into her, hitting that same sweet spot over and over until Y/N was screaming out her overwhelming pleasure and falling into euphoria. 

Jensen continued to jackhammer into her, grunting harshly with each thrust. He pounded into her pussy over and over until she was once again on the precipice of bliss. As his hips faltered, he dropped one of her legs so he could slide his thumb between their bodies and swirl it against her clit. She screamed again and fell for the third time, clenching around him and pulling his climax out of him, along with her own.

The familiar aftermath of damp skin pressed together and lungs starved for oxygen, brought Y/N a kind of all encompassing satisfaction and peace. When Jensen finally rolled off of her, she rolled with him, so she could slot herself up against his side, wrapping one arm over his ribs and laying her head on his chest as he ran his fingers teasingly up and down her back making her shiver.

They were both quiet for a few minutes before Jensen broke the silence. “Y/N tell me the truth.” He said, and Y/N could hear the protectiveness and anger on her behalf permeating his tone. “Did someone say something or do something to hurt you today?”

But she just shook her head. “No, it wasn’t any different than a million other interviews really.” She shrugged. “Something about it just hit me, I guess.”

She raised up on her elbow, chin in her hand, to look at him. “But if you tell me you love me as truly, madly, deeply as you did the day we met, then I believe you.”

Jensen frowned slightly. “Are you comparing me to a Savage Garden song?”

Y/N giggled, but ignored the question, kissing him softly before laying her head back down on his chest. She smiled against his skin as she spoke. 

“I believe you, but tell me again.”

Jensen’s breath ruffled her hair as he sighed contentedly. “I will love you, and desperately want to devour you, every single day of my life - for the rest of my life.”

Y/N nodded, and her voice was full of confidence as she snuggled closer. “Thought so.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Intimacy | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: After a stressful day at work, Wanda wants you to help her forget it

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (Minors DNI), dom/sub dynamics, degradation kink, face slapping, restraints, forced orgasms, spanking, blood, language

Word Count: 3K

Masterlist

A/N: I'd love to do this to Wanda

Wanda slammed the car door so hard you could feel it in the kitchen.  You looked up from your potato, glancing at the unopened door you feared would soon be kicked open before being slammed shut.  It was the sign that something was wrong.  What that was you couldn’t be sure.  Most likely it was related to her day at the club, probably a creep who felt that Wanda’s act gave him permission to feel her up or proposition her for a good time out back.  Regardless of what happened, you would do what you always did whenever your girlfriend came home frustrated: give her a hug, draw her a bubble bath, and pour her the big glass of wine while she sat on the couch watching whatever sitcom she could click on first.

The door kicked open and slammed shut just as you predicted.  Wanda’s grumblings and mutterings were intelligible from your spot in the kitchen, but you heard her backpack thud as she dropped it to the ground.  The slap of her bare feet storming toward the kitchen made you only momentarily consider hiding your knife.

“You.  Upstairs.  Now.”  You didn’t have time to respond before Wanda grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the kitchen. 

You tripped over your feet as she practically pulled you up the stairs.  “Are you good?”

“I had a shitty day and I need you to help me forget about it.”  She kicked open the door to the bedroom and threw you inside before slamming it shut.  

“Alright,�� you chuckled.  Reaching for your belt, you began to undo it before Wanda stopped you.  Her green eyes burned with an intense fire you’d never seen before.

“I need you to fuck me,” she stated plainly.

“I can do that.”

“No, Y/N.  I need you to fuck me.”

“I…well yeah, I can do that.”  You were confused.  Wanda was trying to ask you something but you had no idea what she was implying.  Fuck her?  You would willingly do that whenever she asked.  Wanda let out an exasperated groan, throwing her hands in the air as she walked away from you and flopped face down on the bed.  “Wands?  I want to help, sweetie, but you gotta tell me what you want,” you coaxed, flopping down next to her.  She mumbled something into the comforter, but you couldn’t understand her with her face full of quilt.  “What?”

Wanda turned her head to the side, her fiery red hair sprawling over her face as she attempted to look at you.  “I need you to fuck me.  Like, just fuck me.  Do whatever you want to me.  I want you to be so fucking rough with me that I’m begging you to stop.  But don’t stop, okay?  Hit me, hurt me, make me bleed, I really don’t care.”

“Are…are you sure?”  

“Y/N I swear to god if you don’t put your-”

“Okay, okay!” You brushed her hair out of her face, the long locks twisting as you carefully arranged it on the side of her head.  You smiled to yourself.  Certainly you’d find your fingers tangled with her hair later in ways that would drive her absolutely wild.  There were endless possibilities at play.  Wanda was giving you free reign over her body: you were going to take full advantage of that.  “What’s the safeword?”

“Pineapples.”  The same tried and true word.  It had never been spoken by either of you before, but you kept it the same for continuity’s sake.

“Good.” You pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.  It was the last bit of gentleness you wanted to show her, but Wanda had other ideas.  Needy hands grabbed at the collar of your t-shirt.  You found yourself being pulled into your lover as she rolled onto her side.  Her lips were incredibly soft and sweet, tantalizing you as you relished in their softness.  You felt her smile coyly as you kissed her back.  That was enough to almost make you lose all sense of yourself, but you managed to snap yourself back to reality before Wanda managed to take control of the situation.

“Oh absolutely not,” you teased.  Wanda’s eyes snapped open, her face flushing red.  Her body burned with anticipation as you straddled her waist, your pulse quickening as you rolled on top of her.  The two of you found yourselves dizzy in the thick atmosphere that filled the bedroom.  “You think you can distract me like that, huh?  We haven’t even started yet and you can’t take it?”  The thrum of desire surging through your body was almost insatiable.  It took all your self-restraint to only trail your hand down the side of her face.  You heard Wanda’s breath hitch at the light caress of your fingers against her cheek.  It was all she could do to nod.

Without giving her a moment to recover, you slammed your lips into hers.  She moaned into your mouth as you bit down on her lower lip.  The sharp metallic tang of blood coated sent a shiver down your spine.  There was something inherently dirty about the act of spilling blood, of coating your tongue in the crimson ichor that was meant to remain untasted.  As you lapped at the drops, heat spreading under your skin, you began tearing at the buttons on Wanda’s oversized flannel.  Your fingers moved deftly over the fabric as she arched her back, desperate for more contact with you.

“I bet you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you, you little slut?”  Wanda whimpered, her eyes rolling back as you tore the shirt from her now exposed frame.  “What was that?  I couldn’t hear you.  You better answer me when I talk to you.”

“I want you so bad, baby,” Wanda whined. You smirked, reaching underneath her to unclasp her bra and throw it behind you.  “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please.  Please.  Please just-”  A stinging smack across her face interrupted her incoherent babbling.  Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes as you leaned in close to her, your lips brushing against her ear as you spoke.

“I ask, you answer.  That’s how this works.  Please what?” you growled.

“Please fuck me.”

Your hand rubbed gentle circles over her reddened cheek.  Wanda’s utterly disheveled appearance drove you absolutely wild.  She was surrendering all her inhibitions to you.  Not only was it unbelievably intimate, it was incredibly hot as well.  Smirking as you locked eyes with her dazed emerald orbs, you gave her cheek a light slap before reaching down to thumb the waistband of her leggings.  You slid them around her waist, teasing the soft rolls of her tummy that were covered by the wide waistband.  

“Sweetheart, you’re soaked,” you mumbled as you carefully peeled her leggings off.  The growing dark spot on her otherwise pastel blue panties sent you into a frenzy.  A dull ache formed in the pit of your stomach as you bit back a moan.  

Quick hands made work of your own jeans as your tented boxers soon joined Wanda’s bra on the floor.  Your erection was rock hard, throbbing with every hammering beat of your heart.

“Oh baby, I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t see straight,” you teased, dipping a hand down her panties and sliding your fingers up her slit.  Slick juices coated your hand, which you promptly used to massage up and down your shaft.  Wanda salivated at the sight of her arousal coating your engorged length. Not breaking eye contact with your hand, watching as you fondled yourself with her sweet juices, she slipped her panties down her legs.  

“Did I tell you that you could take those off yet?”  Wanda yelped as you grabbed her wrist.  “Hands and knees.  Now.”  You yanked the sticky undergarments off, throwing them behind you to land amongst the discarded garments strewn on your bedroom floor.  Wanda quickly and willingly obliged your command.  Her body trembled with anticipation of your next action.  Both of you knew that you would punish her for her willful disobedience.  You were in charge, she was to submit to your demands.

Rubbing circles on her exposed flesh, her full and voluptuous ass on full display, you slapped it hard.  She yelped again, the sting of your open palm sending pleasure and pain to all ends of her body.  The skin beneath your hand burned bright red as you rendered slap after slap.  Each successive hit slowly transformed Wanda’s yelps and cries to stifled moans as her cunt glistened with her dripping arousal.  

“Dumb slut,” you muttered.  “God, you’re just a pathetic little cumrag, aren’t you?  Don’t worry, baby, you won’t need to think at all while I fuck you.”  You grabbed her hips, pulling them towards you as you lined the tip of your penis up with her entrance.  Heart pounding, lust teeming throughout every inch of your body, you buried yourself inside her in one quick thrust.  Wanda gasped as she adjusted to your girth.  It was far from the first time she’d taken you, but it always took a moment for her to acclimate to the intrusion.  While you normally gave her a moment, Wanda’s words echoed in your head: “hurt me.”

With no warning, you pounded into her.  You watched your cock dip in and out of her in rapid succession, her juices mixing with your precum and coating every inch of your shaft.  The sound of smacking flesh filled the room as your pelvis rutted into her ass.  You threw your head back, closing your eyes as you relished in the sensation of her walls gripping you.  Wanda clawed at the bedsheets with balled fists, her eyes rolling back into her head as soft moans escaped her open mouth.

“Look at you taking my cock so well.  You’re such a good little cock whore, aren’t you?”  She croaked out a garbled sigh in response.  “Can’t even answer, you’re so full right now.”

“Fuck, daddy, fuck my pussy,” Wanda groaned loudly.

“Daddy?”  For a moment you were snapped out of your scene.  It was the first time she called you that, but it only made the fire that was burning in your body that much hotter. “You like the way daddy fucks you, baby?”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded enthusiastically.  Her grip on the sheets tightened as she rocked her hips back against yours.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk.”  You had already set a brutal pace with your thrusts, but your hips bucked into her frantically as you teased her.

“‘M gonna cum,” Wanda moaned.  As you slammed into her cunt, Wanda let out a choked sob as her walls fluttered around you.  You didn’t let up, fucking her at full force through her orgasm.  “Stop, baby, it’s too much.”

“But I thought this is what you wanted, isn’t it?  You wanted me to fuck you like the whore you are.  Come on, Wanda, be a good girl for daddy,” you mocked.  “Yeah, that’s a good girl, hmm?”

Wanda’s head fell to the pillow as you brought her to the brink of a second orgasm almost immediately after her first.  Her muffled screams filled the room as her swollen pussy squelched with every buck of your hips.  You smiled to yourself knowingly.  There was nothing you enjoyed more than watching her cum.  Her second orgasm was quickly followed by a third.  By the time Wanda approached her fourth consecutive orgasm, you figured she was about spent.  Willingly spurring yourself on, you slowed your thrusts, methodically pulling your entire length out before bottoming out inside her.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grunted.  Sharp nails dug into her soft hips as you shuddered with your thrusts.  You could feel the pressure coming to a peak inside you.

“Cum in me, baby,” Wanda begged.  Her voice was ragged from screaming.

“I’ll fill you up so good.  Stuff you with my cum, make it run down your legs, coat every inch of that fucking amazing pussy.”  With one final thrust you emptied yourself inside her, hot strands painting her womb white as you bred her.  Her walls milked every last drop from your cock as she came around you for a fourth time.   

Groaning, you collapsed down on her as the feeling in your legs finally gave out.  Your sweaty bodies pressed together as your hearts pounded wildly in your chests.  The orgasm left you satisfied, but you weren’t done with Wanda quite yet.  Difficult as it was, you rolled off her, reaching over for your nightstand.  

“Come on, slut.  I’m not done with you yet,” you ordered, rolling her over as you grabbed the handcuffs from the drawer.  The cool metal clicked into place around her wrists as you raised her arms above her head, reaching back into the drawer for the rope to secure them to the bed.  Once you checked to make sure the knot was secure, you rolled over to Wanda’s side of the bed, rummaging through her drawer for her large vibrating wand.  You found it, along with the proper restraints to make sure it stayed right where it needed to be.  The cuffs for her legs were right next to it and you threw those onto the bed, too.  

You made quick work of the ropes, cuffing her ankles to the bedposts and tying the wand around her midsection so that it stayed put.  Wanda’s breaths were heavy and ragged as you worked silently, focusing intently on your task as you tried to ignore the nude woman twitching and shaking underneath you.  

“Now,” you began as you jumped off the bed, “I have to finish making dinner.  I’ll be back once I’m done.”  You grabbed your boxers and jumped into them, reaching down once you were somewhat dressed to retrieve another item of clothing.  But this wasn’t for you.  “In the meantime, I’ll leave you here.”

“Y/N,” Wanda groaned.  You could practically smell the arousal pooling between her legs.

“Oh, and I like to cook in silence so…” You turned toward the bed, unballing your fist to let the stained panties dangle limply from your grasp.  Wanda’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping just enough so you could shove the garment inside and gag her.  You turned the vibrator on to the lowest setting with the intent of torturing her.

Back in the kitchen, you continued dicing your potatoes, mixing the dry rub for your chicken thighs together, chopping off the ends of the asparagus, and placing everything on two cookie sheets before plopping them in the oven.  It wasn’t more than ten minutes, but it was more than long enough for Wanda.  When you returned to the bedroom after placing dinner in the oven, you found a quivering mess of the woman you left behind.  Tears rolled down her face, ruining her mascara as screams stood silenced behind cotton.  Her body strained and convulsed against the constant overstimulation.  The bed shook violently as she bucked her hips wildly, a feeble attempt at loosening your restraints.  Her clit was swollen, her lips bright red and puffy while a slick sheen coated all of her sex.  A damp puddle pooled between her legs: you made a mental reminder to change the sheets before the boys got home.  Her eyes begged and pleaded with you to stop, the worst thoughts of her day finally expunged from her mind as a result of your brutal fucking.

As soon as you turned the wand off, Wanda’s entire body shuddered and collapsed deep into the mattress.  You carefully removed the underwear from her mouth, massaging her stiff jaw as you straddled her torso.

“You, umm, you’ve got a little mascara…here, let me help.”  You thumbbed away a leaky black trail from her cheek.  Her hands still restrained, Wanda gazed into your soul.  It was a distant look, like she was in a far off land and not really present.  “Are you okay?” you whispered, nearly closing the distance between your lips and hers.

“I…”  She couldn’t speak.  There were no words to describe what she just experienced both physically and mentally.  

“Did I hurt you?”

“No baby, no.  I just don’t think I can move,” she breathed with a slight chuckle.

“Do you want me to draw you a bath?”

“No.  No, no bath.  Not now.  Just…hold me?”   Wanda was at her most vulnerable.  You gave her what she wanted, as you always did, and it took everything out of her.  There was no one else she trusted to do this to her, and the intimacy it created between the two of you was something you couldn’t describe.  Even after all the pain and degradation and tears, all she wanted was to be held by the man she trusted as her protector.  

“I can do that,” you whispered, untying the various ropes and unlocking the handcuffs.  As you worked around her body, you occasionally stopped to press loving kisses all over her, massaging the porcelain skin that was only beginning to show signs of weathering.  The restraints were quickly discarded as you curled yourself behind Wanda, wrapping your arm around her midsection as you spooned her. 

“No, not like this,” she pouted, rolling over and pushing you onto your back.

“Okay,” you apologized as she clung to you like a koala, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck.  It didn’t take long for Wanda’s breathing to deepen and slow as she relaxed into your warmth.  Your fingers found themselves tangling in the red hair that was spread across your chest, twisting and twirling with her natural curls.

“Thank you,” she murmured from the brink of slumber.  You smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she passed out from sheer exhaustion.  A shower and dinner and picking the boys up could wait.  For the next thirty-seven minutes until the beeping oven reminded you of your worldly existence, your world consisted of only you and Wanda lying in bed in the throes of ecstasy, closer than you’d ever been.    

[ericdeggans]

Why you should care about the TV Critics Association Press Tours, even if you are not a TV critic

Back in the day, years ago, it happened with regularity: A snarky story in one of the entertainment industry trade magazines taking a shot at the Television Critics Association’s twice-annual press tours.

Before we go on, a bit of inside baseball for context: the TCA is a group of critics and journalists who cover the TV industry, and two times a year we hold a conference of sorts in Los Angeles. Loads of major TV outlets participate, rolling out press conferences, receptions, set visits and interview opportunities to promote series and projects rolling out over the next six months or so.

The most recent TCA press tour, which I attended in Pasadena, Calif. (the picture above shows me giving the group's Heritage Award to Twin Peaks during the TCA Awards July 12), concluded in the middle of last week. And, predictable as an afternoon rain shower in Florida, The Hollywood Reporter rolled out a tough piece describing “The Incredible Shrinking Press Tour.”

“Frustrations with a staid press conference format, accelerated by Hollywood belt-tightening and the COVID-era shift away from in-person gatherings, to say nothing of severe budget cuts across the media landscape, have taken a visible toll on the press tour,” read the story, which quoted unnamed publicists of TV programmers sniping about having to participate. “An event that once stretched more than two packed weeks wrapped its latest cycle on July 17 after a thin eight days. Powerhouse streamers such as Netflix, Apple and Amazon were absent, and not a single programming executive took the stage to face down the press.”

(cast of Brooklyn Nine Nine at a TCA set visit)

True enough, this year’s press tour was smaller than previous outings; the event has struggled to return after COVID sidelined much of the TV industry. But Hollywood has also been buffeted by the impact of two strikes last year and concern – so far averted – that there might be a third this year.

A surplus of TV programming, increased production costs and caution about this year’s climate has led some big projects to be delayed until next year – more than one person in the industry joked to me about the phrase many are repeating in Hollywood, hoping to “survive until 2025.” Downsizing in media has also made it tougher for journalists to find the time and financial resources to attend press conferences at a swanky hotel which stretch out over more than a week.

Turns out, there’s lots of reasons why the tour has slimmed down this year, as the industry itself recalibrates and refocuses amid lots of institutional change.

But, as someone who has attended TCA tours since 1997 – yes, I’m THAT old -- I’m here to say that the tour remains a relevant and useful part of covering the industry, despite the anonymous sniping of assorted industry types.

(Yours truly visiting The Price is Right set during a TCA tour.)

When I first began attending tour, as the TV critic for the St. Petersburg Times in Florida, the event was filled with critics like me from regional papers from across the country. We were trying to give our local readers insight into an industry which came into their living rooms nightly for hours at time. And for me, the TCA tour was an invaluable crash course in modern television.

Over the years, I got to know publicists who arranged exclusive visits to the sets of ER, Six Feet Under, Sex and The City and Law & Order. I quizzed industry leaders at on the record receptions, including former CBS head Les Moonves, Fox News founder Roger Ailes, Survivor and The Apprentice executive producer Mark Burnett, FX head John Landgraf and Scandal/Grey’s Anatomy creator Shonda Rhimes.

When the late, lamented UPN network created a sitcom that felt a bit too close to being a veiled comedy about slavery – the show was called The Secret Diary of Desmond Pfeiffer, look it up – I was there to challenge the network’s executives and its producers. When Ailes and the Fox News anchor Chris Wallace tried to deny the way the cable newschannel favored conservatives, I was there, again, with access I would never have gotten any other way.

Most recently, in February, I asked producers from The Bachelor franchise why the show has struggled to handle racial issues – leading to losing its longtime host Chris Harrison and, possibly, the show’s creator Mike Fleiss. Their eight seconds of silence before a roomful of TV critics spoke volumes and sparked headlines nationwide.

There are few other major industries in America where the people who run things are expected to regularly face a group of journalists asking questions, sometimes pointed, about the decisions they have made. Given that media is occupying an increasing portion of our lives, having a forum where the press can interrogate the work of newscasters, documentarians, reality TV producers, media executives, series showrunners and big stars in public is incredibly valuable – both to journalists and the general public.

(former ABC entertainment president Jamie Tarses faced tough questions from reporters at TCA in 1997.)

The TCA tour has drawn lots of barbs over the years, from complaints from TV outlets about how much it costs to present press conferences, receptions and special events, to criticisms about the value of promotional items given to critics (that’s been severely toned down from the time, decade ago, when one network handed me a free cellphone after a press conference. I handed it back, noting it was far too valuable a gift to accept.)

But, as a former TCA board member from many years ago, I think what really rankles some in the TV industry is how little control they have over what happens at tours. Despite loads of coaching from experienced publicists, it is tough to predict what questions will be asked during a 40-minute press session, and an off-the-mark response can resonate for a while (Besides The Bachelor producers, I remember stars like Roseanne Barr, Katherine Heigl and even Donald Trump earning lots of critical coverage from bad press tour appearances.)

Entertainment trade publications have also often cast shade on the press tour, which regularly invites legions of less powerful and more removed journalists into the kind of access they usually enjoy.

What keeps the tour going, beyond its value to TCA members, is the ever-increasing need for publicity to punch through a media environment filled with more noise, distraction and competition than ever. Those who make TV need more ways to reach consumers, and the TCA tours still offer programmers the opportunity to reach journalists who connect with millions of consumers every day.

If the TCA press tours go away, what will be left is overly stage-managed press conferences wholly controlled by the TV outlets, with access severely limited to journalists and critics in big cities like New York and Los Angeles.

I hope that doesn’t happen. Because my time at the TCA has been among the most rewarding experiences in a long career, offering a window into the TV industry that is unparalleled and always enlightening.

[libraryledge]

The Road to Success (And to the Oscars)

Last night in Los Angeles, was the first public screening of A Complete Unknown, and many critics received the film with high praise. With this in mind, I can't express how much I'd love for Timothée Chalamet to win his first Oscar this year. Yes, I am a fan of his, but it goes deeper than that. He's worked for years to prepare for the role of young Bob Dylan on his rise to fame. The opportunity for this biopic came to him before the release of blockbuster films such as Dune and Wonka, which made Chalamet a household name. He read countless books, listened to hours worth of music, and traced Dylan's footsteps in order to get into the headspace of singer in the 1960's. He not only trained his voice to capture the artist's sound, but most importantly worked to embody the folk legend's essence.

Interestingly, Chalamet would be the youngest best actor winner in the Academy Awards' history if he won. He already made history in 2018 for being the youngest best actor nominee in almost 80 years for his role in Call Me By Your Name. As someone who is passionate about acting and cinema and would love to work in the industry someday, this gives me hope. Young people are often underestimated because they are believed to have short attention spans or not possess enough experience to make an impact in the world of filmmaking. Chalamet disproves this by not only leading an incredible ensemble cast in A Complete Unknown, but by serving double duty as a producer on the film as well. While it is true that as the up and coming generation, we must learn from the achievements of those before us, it doesn't mean that we aren't capable of blazing our own path and proving that we have enough grit and determination to make waves in the industry.

However, as much of a milestone it would be for Chalamet to win an Oscar, awards aren't what make a film or performer great. Rather, the passion and dedication to a project are what lead to success. Bob Dylan himself is someone who knew that best. Yes, people sung his praises and applauded his lyricism, but even when those who once commended him turned their back on him, he persevered with his craft. To this day, Dylan's aim isn't for recognition, but rather the ability to get his point across and share the art he creates with audiences.

Whether the Academy will reward Chalamet during its ceremony in March for his commitment towards bringing Dylan's story to life is something that only time will tell. Since this award season has several directors, actors, and peers that the young actor collaborated with throughout his career, who are in the running for other top prizes, it would certainly make for an emotional night. It would be incredible to witness this full circle moment of the actor being called to the stage to face a room filled with people who watched him grow both as a person and performer over the past decade. Whether Timothée Chalamet will take home the coveted statue remains a mystery whose answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind. However, one thing is for certain: award or not, he is already a winner as he has inspired countless individuals like myself who know that tenacity and love for one's craft are truly the road to success.

(Current Oscar Predictions According to Variety Magazine)

[woodsfae]

B5 S04E01 The Hour of the Wolf  previous episode - table of contents 

It's good to be back - I wanted to watch, but whenever I typed it hurt. Feeling much better now! 

I quickly browsed my last post to make sure I remembered what was going on and remembered something I wanted to say to John Sheridan. 

John. :| I like you, I do. But recall, you had to earn that affection and you kinda rode on Susan Ivanova's shoulders for awhile. As far as I was concerned. So yeah, I like you. But - and this is critical - I like Delenn a lot more than I like you. So no more shaking Delenn by the shoulders, m'kay? /speaking directly to the characters 2000's fanfic author-style

press play

G'Kar continues his trend of being the narrator. Sheridan - lost on Z'ha'dum. Garibaldi - captured by the Shadows. Ivanova - traumatized. Mollari - wished on the monkey's paw and it came true. Delenn - religious fasting and prayer. But of G'Kar himself, he says nothing. He only muses about Sheridan and Garibaldi's fates. 

Oooooh, new opening! Hearing from all the humans and also Delenn but no other aliens. It's punchier and faster than the previous openings, or at least it feels like it - I didn't check.

Aww Susan does not look like she's having a good time listening to the computer recite her incredibly busy schedule. 

Things are tense. The various species who signed the Babylon 5 are pulling their ships - or at least, most of them. They don't want to press the attack like Ivanova is trying to persuade them to do. They believe that if you go to Z'ha'dum, you die. If they go, they die. Sheridan went, and Sheridan's dead. 

It does look like, at this point, that Dr Franklin won't be involved in circumventing the prophecy that if Sheridan goes, he dies. So I am left to wonder how it will be fulfilled and then sidestepped! Knowing Sheridan's wiles, it'll either be incredibly petty levels of pedantry, overwhelming force, or overwhelming force from an unexpected direction and source. 

Centauri Prime looks...glossy. 

The Emperor is Cartagia. I will try to remember this. Londo has met him twice: one when he was a drooling infant, and once when he was "15 and trying to look up the skirts of the court ladies,." delightful. He is incredibly pretentious. 

He actually puts his fucking finger in one of the ladies' mouths while talking about walking among the common people in his short crest. So, so cringe. She seems to be into it. 

I hate Centauri court already. :| Luckily, Londo also hates it, so we can be comrades in arms in this terrible place. His suffering makes him more tolerable for sure. 

Vir has been collecting information from Londo's Shadows contacts while he's gone! And they're coordinated enough to report what happened in the last episode with a high degree of accuracy. The chasm he jumped into is two miles deep. That's only a little short of falling the height of Mt Fuji. And Susan has a sad about her friend. :/  Little does she know, he's gonna be resurrected.

Fucking Morden is here to make Londo's day a little better. And oh my god, he got fucked up. But the Shadows claim he'll "be better soon." Better be dead soon! >.> Emperor Cartagia knows about Morden, so he claims. And he's made a deal with the Shadows - the Shadows are putting ships around Centauri Prime.

New prophecy prediction: Londo's going to murder Emperor Cartagia. Still not sure if he'll be the direct successor, though. Logic says yes, but drama says maybe-no.

Delenn wishes to speak with not-Kosh, but Lyta says no. not-Kosh doesn't speak. Hasn't come to any council meetings, won't return Delenn's calls. Until he does speak! He knows what's up, but won't do anything. He calls Sheridan irrelevant. And says that Sheridan's actions opened an unexpected door. So although there was a prophecy that Sheridan would go to, and die on, Z'ha'dum, he carried it out in an unexpected way? That's cool. Vorlon-stymying machine, that one!

But with how he's dealing with Delenn, he's sure destroying some of her respect for the Vorlons as an elder species and demigods of the universe. 

 So funny that Zack Allen notices someone's in Garibaldi's quarters by seeing the door half open. Since when to the doors ever do anything but open and then close again immediately. lol. 

G'Kar is searching his quarters and they have a friendly chat. Ahh and here's the famous scene about Daffy Duck being described to G'Kar as a god of frustration! That's pretty good. 

Is...is G'Kar saying that he owes Garibaldi, and his new mindset he got from being in prison...in a good way? yikes. Anyway, he's off to find Garibaldi. It would be pretty funny if, as serenely as he describes his new quest, he also carries it out thus. Then serenely punches Garibaldi after he rescues him. haha. But that won't happen, I'm sure - they've seemed to be on good terms, and the show really doesn't seem to understand what horrific injustices they are putting the Narns, and G'Kar, through without any thematic wins. 

Emperor Cartagia is not only allowing Shadows to post ships around the planet, but also a palace to stay in. 

He's a megalomaniac with literal delusions of impending godhood. "I've known all my life that it's what I was born for." WHAT. 

"When I become a god, I will forgive you your rudeness, Mollari. [...] For now, I will simply try to forget it." lololol

ah! not-Kosh is sucking Lyta! And not in the fun way! She does not look well. She's 'carrying him with her', and not in the same way she 'carried Kosh'. Hm. Mysterious telepathy and mysterious Vorlon shit. Oh - and I didn't notice till she put on her environment mask, but not-Kosh was making her freaking stand in the wrong atmosphere for her while he used her strength! Seriously messed up. Is not-Kosh about to be the first Vorlon of the second war of the shadows to defect?? Or just an example of "With friends like that, who needs enemies,"?

I. Don't believe that Vir sleeps with his crest up. Or that it stays up in anyone sleep. It's just hair! Like, even a mohawk but up with elmer's glue gets crushed if you squish it in your sleep, no? There's just no way. That's too silly and literally in a show of silliness, broke my suspension of disbelief, hah. 

Susan Ivanova claims she hasn't slept in seven days???? GIRL. Susan-Lyta bonding time going on. Rather, Susan is describing an existential crisis, but in the most melodramatic way possible. And says when her dad was going through it he would drink vodka before bed to keep the wolf away. Hm. Alcoholism runs in that family, judging by the glass also in Susan's hand. She's feeling rough! 

Lyta has a mission in mind. She says Kosh was sensitive to both Lyta and Sheridan, so if she gets near Z'ha'dum she might be able to sense if he's alive or not. Susan says, hmmm don't think telepathy works like that. Authorized. And Delenn and I are coming too. 

Lyta is confidently exhibiting Psi confidence I would not attribute to The Gathering Lyta. I think she's grown to well above Psi 5.

This is genuinely quite tense. Lyta's eyes went all black. Delenn is trying to reach out with or through Lyta, which is also something I was pretty sure telepaths couldn't do. 

And now Susan is joining in on being eerie. 

The Shadows have sensed them. They are looking. ANd Susan says she has been here before. Instead of running, Susan ordered the ship to descend. And then! They jump away!

Lennier was s m a r t. He programmed the ship to jump back to B5 if he didn't hit a button every two minutes. So while they all got long distance hypnotized or some shit, past!Lennier saved present!everyone. Go Lennier! 

So the Shadows are not only weak to telepaths, but they also have some sort of telepathic ability. Not the way the lower species' telepathy works, but more like an individual nightmare that draws each one in separately. Spooky as fuck.

But from the lack of response from Sheridan, they've concluded he's dead. Or Susan has, at least, I don't know if Delenn will give up hope or not. I kinda think Lennier won't. I think Lennier will always choose hope. 

Probably Sheridan staggering through a tunnel on Z'ha'dum. What did he drop, tho. I don't recognize the metallic, squarish, long and thin object. end teaser interlude.

"Vir, when you are mad you say these things the way you or I would talk about the weather!" -Londo, filling Vir in on the situation that Londo created with his string of disastrous decisions

Ugh, Londo speaks in quotations. So quotably. He says that Vir is his friend in a flowery way. And asks for help. And Vir's like "dude...when have I ever not helped you." and Londo's like "fantastic, we need to plan a regicide." Poor Vir. Always getting dragged into terrible situations. By Londo. 

Susan Ivanova's personal log: I need to plan war things. And I need help. I know where to get help. And I need to stop being sad that o Captain my captain! is dead.  honey. :(

New alien ! On Z'ha'dum. Sheridan has memory issues. But was still able to find fuel for a fire and start one. His fire-sharing companion gazes deeply at him, stroking one ear. 

yesss that's the way to build tension right at the end of an episode. The ole gaze-staring ear stroke. ._. 

Lol. It was a good episode! It'll be fun to see how the new season's arcs get set up and what I can figure out!

next!

[eddiezpaghetti]

Hallo! Like many other people, I found you thanks to the incredible piece on why Byler IS GONNA be endgame. In your second/response post on this matter you briefly mentioned Supernatural, Teen Wolf and Sherlock, and I was wondering if you could make direct comparisons to these cases and explain how exactly they differ from Byler. If you knew about these shows while they were still airing, did you also strongly believe or at least had a bit of hope that those ships would become canon? If no, what are the main differences that make ST's pair so unique? If yes, do you believe you overlooked/assumed things back then that you now account for better? And sorry if this is an annoying or repetitive question, I imagine you've gotten a bunch of similar requests and you might want to distance yourself from the topic alr + from what little I know about those 2010s shows I can already kind of predict the answer myself thanks to your definitions of queerbaiting v queer-coding v accidental romance, so I guess this is more of an excuse so I get a chance to read another one of your masterful posts, apologies for that hehe <3

Honestly, I used those examples because they're really well-known in general, not because I'm an expert on those pieces of media. A piece of media I probably know better on a personal level that did queerbaiting isn't even a great example because it was just on such a small scale, but definitely still held true under "We're doing this simultaneously to pander to and make fun of queer people," but no one was too invested because it was with a minor character, so no one cared much, and no one really believed was going to happen. Tonally, though, it matches up with the other examples, and it's another piece of shit that came straight outta Moffat's ass. Uhh...

Yes, that's James Corden. Not relevant. The important thing is that this is a scene that works as an example of what The Queerbaiting Tone™ feels like.

If you haven't seen Doctor Who--first of all, how did you find Tumblr, but more importantly--this character was in a whopping two episodes. Minor character, had a love interest, but his relationship with the Doctor was still remarkably, like, intimate?

The doctor's companions never joined him on the episodes he was with this character, they were roommates for a while (oh my god they were roommates), they had the whole one-sided-rivals thing (Corden's character was jealous of how the Doctor seemed to charm everyone around him while the Doctor just wanted Corden's character safe and happy), there was a goddamn scene where Corden's character got poisoned and the Doctor nursed him back to health complete with staying at his bedside and gently brushing the hair out of his eyes and all that shit... And the second episode Craig (I just remembered the character's name--shut up, it's been a while) was in happened because the Doctor was informed he was about to die and he decided Craig was someone he wanted to see just one last time.

Then the above scene happened.

And you can see that, like, it's blatantly a joke, Craig mentions he has a wife, he's such a minor character that no one actually believes he's going to romance the Doctor and run away with him, but all of the genuine moments between them still happened. This is still a character the Doctor (normally a ~mysterious~ character) chose to have a goddamn Vulcan-style mind-meld with.

And, again, this was a joke. The punchline is the idea of them being gay. Hilarious. Two men being in love. Absolutely ground-breaking humor.

Queerbaiting is just that scene, and those two episodes of Doctor Who, but with a much longer buildup to the punchline. The longer that buildup is, the more real it feels. The more effort is spent on it, the more you want to believe it's too much effort to be a joke. And the more space is spread about between them, the harder it is to remember all the little micro-jokes the big joke is made of.

And again, Byler has never had that. Stranger Things has never had that. I'd love to show every goddamn scene with a queer character or queerness mentioned in the show just to prove that it's not the same, but that's hard because it's harder to show the absence of something than the presence of something. It'd take too long. And the sincere scenes that do make up Will and Mike's love story, those are between the jokes with queerbaiting. Again, there was a scene in Doctor Who where Craig got poisoned and the Doctor stayed by his bedside and made him tea and did his work for him in the meantime so he wouldn't fall behind. But, again, that's between jokes.

Mike and Will have never developed their relationship between jokes. They're not a punchline. There's no joke here. It's only Mike desperately calling Will's name through the radio when he hears him singing. It's only Mike saying that meeting him was the best thing he's ever done. It's only Will tearfully telling Mike that he wanted to play games with him for the rest of his life. It's only Will giving Mike a veiled confession by projecting his feelings onto El. Over and over and over again, it's sincere, sincere, sincere, sincere, sincere.

Their closeness isn't funny, it's just love. And that's the difference.

[douglysium]

Episode 9 TMP Quick Thoughts

Housekeeping and Prologue

Hello, this is Douglysium and you might not know me as that guy who wrote over 100 pages of analysis on the Eye (which can be read on Tumblr here (https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/735599414228484097/the-relationships-between-the-dread-powers-the) or Google Docs here (The Relationships Between the Dread Powers: The Eye- Knowledge is Fear and Ignorance is Bliss)) or as that guy who wrote an article on the Extinction (which can be read on Tumblr here(https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/717929126195003392/what-would-avatars-of-the-extinction-be-like-a) and Google Docs here(​What would Avatars of the Extinction be like?: A TMA Speculation)). Suffice to say I might be a bit of a TMA fan. Also, spoilers for TMP up until episode 8. You can read my ramblings on the last episode here (Episode 8 TMP Quick Thoughts).

However, Protocol offers a very unique opportunity and experience for me because I didn’t actually get into TMA until after it was over and I binged all of it. So this is my first time experiencing something even remotely similar to what the original TMA fans probably experienced when waiting for each episode week by week and slowly having to put everything together with the limited information they had. So I decided to throw my hat into the ring since this might be my only chance to do something similar. However, I’m working on some longer form TMA content so I can’t spend as much time on these articles giving a bunch of super detailed thoughts. I will try to keep these short and that inevitably might mean some could have questions about why I think or predict certain things and in those cases I would probably recommend you read at least some of the two articles I mentioned above to get a better idea of where I’m coming from. This also means I won’t be giving you a play-by-play of every single thing that happens in the episode so I encourage you to listen to or read them yourselves and feel free to comment if you feel something is important.

These reviews are probably going to end up focusing mostly on the Entities and their manifestations as they are what I have thought about the most and spent the most time interpreting and there’s been a lot of… interesting theories floating around about how the Entities are manifesting that I want to go over.

Finally, I’m just going to say it right now, spoiler warning for all of The Magnus Archives. I know that Jon and co said one could start with Protocol and be fine, and while that’s probably true, media like this tends to be made in conversation with or take into consideration what came before it in the irl chronology in order to connect them. While I’m sure you could skip The Magnus Archives, I don't really see the point of skipping over it when we are already getting characters from TMA showing up in TMP in Protocol. So to me it’s pretty clear that if we want to understand the full picture of TMP and all the things it is trying to say then we can’t just try to pretend TMA doesn’t exist or scrub it away. Just because you could understand what’s happening without the context in broad strokes doesn’t mean you're getting all the nuances.

These articles are meant to be quick and short so sorry if there’s typos and if I don’t address every possible question or possibility. I don’t want to repeat myself too much in this series outside of the prologue so be sure to skim some of my other articles.

Episode 9 “Rolling With It”

As has become the custom at this point, we join whatever / whoever is witnessing the events of TMP through some sort of a device (one of the OIAR computers in this case). Sam is organizing a large stack of papers as Celia enters the room and sits at her computer. Sam seems incredibly focused on filling out these papers, so much so that Sam didn’t even seem to notice or acknowledge Celia’s presence until she directly addresses him.

Celia asks him what he's doing and Sam explains “Just filling in some more onboarding paperwork. You know what it’s like.” Celia is puzzled since she hasn’t gotten anything similar since day 1 and Sam explains “It’s my own fault. I checked a box for a Response department one-to-one.” So whatever is going on with the papers right now has to do with the papers Sam started filling out in episode 5. However, this situation doesn’t sit completely right with me. First off, in that episode it sounded like Sam never actually finished the original 1-to-1 form since Alice stopped him. This could easily be because curiosity got the better of Sam and he just decided to fill it out later but Sam specifically says that this is all happening because he “checked a box for a Response department one-to-one.” A single box. I could just be taking this too literally and Sam just filled out the form when Alice wasn’t around and is saying one of the boxes he checked is causing this to happen but Celia mentions “Yeah… Alice mentioned something about that. Also, that there hasn’t been a Response department for years now?”

So this appears to be caused by the same paperwork Alice was present for. This means either Sam is lying about something or there might be something strange afoot. If we assume that this is due to the paperwork in episode 5 then did Sam submit something incomplete? I don’t remember anything in that episode implying Sam went back and submitted that paper somewhere even if it’s possible. Is it possible someone or something somehow seemed to know when Sam filled out the form. Something like The Eye (which we know is prone to do random stuff like this) or some similar Entity? 

Sam and Celia continue to talk about how pointless this entire thing seems and Sam justifies continuing to fill these forms out anyway by saying “Well, I refuse to give it the satisfaction of giving up.” This justification sounds similar to Colin not wanting to give any of the OIAR computers satisfaction.

Sam and Celia go over some of the weird questions on the one-to-one.

SAM 

“Exactly. And honestly, it’s kind of compelling by this point. Like its deliberately weird and pointless y’know?”

CELIA 

“How so?”

SAM 

“Look. (He pulls some paperwork across. CELIA pulls in closer)”

CELIA 

“(reading) Please list your earliest four negative memories associated with school or an equivalent childhood educational institution, then rate each from zero to seven with zero being neutral and seven being traumatic. (laughing) I’m sorry what?”

SAM 

“It gets better.”

CELIA 

“(digging through pages) Please list every dead creature you have seen in the last three months… how many blood transfusions have you had within the last ten years… “Why?” Why what?”

SAM 

“(smiling) Just “Why”” 

CELIA 

“Well, that’s… something “

SAM 

“Isn’t it? And even better, I know noone will ever read it.”

I’ve been arguing that, along with the idea that Smirke’s 14 categories are probably still applicable or around to some degree, the OIAR is probably somehow connected to the Eye (or at the very least has a lot of parallels to it). There’s the computers, statements, and voices of Jon and Martin obviously but you also have stuff like this. For one, while strange contracts or paperwork could easily connect to The Web or something similar, The Eye is no stranger to them either. The most obvious example of this in TMA is the contract those working in the Magnus Institute’s Archives had to sign. One which supernaturally bound them to Jonah / the Institute. Additionally, Sam’s paperwork having odd and strangely prying questions is quite in line with The Eye and the idea of something snooping or trying to know too much about you (like sensitive information). 

Celia refers to the paperwork and Reference department as an “automated bureaucratic system.” This could be automated by some sort of technology very easily but it could be automated by someone or something like an Entity or monster acting behind the scenes. If it turns out Sam actually didn’t submit the Request department’s form and somehow something was just randomly notified that he checked a box that would fit in line with The Eye and the propensity it and its followers have to knowing stuff they shouldn’t or some form of “clairvoyance.” Since The Eye is also the fear of secrets being revealed or made known Sam’s line of “I know noone will ever read it.” becomes a lot more ominous. I also wonder if these papers are purposefully being used as some sort of breadcrumbs or bait. Sam says that he’s doing this for fun but he could be skeptical about the existence of the Response department. 

I end up beating this dead horse every video and I’m not 100% sure it applies here because Sam says he’s filling out these papers for fun and absurdity, however what I’m saying will come back up very soon anyway. As I’ve mentioned previously The Eye doesn’t just seem to be the fear of being watched but knowledge in general. Not just in the sense that someone might get knowledge about you that you don’t want them to know (such as where you live / are) but also that you yourself might know or see something you don’t want to. In MAG 200 The Eye is stated to have been born from the fear of one’s eyes showing them too much and this would thematically explain Jonah’s ability to shove information into the heads of people like Martin and Melanie (he’s forcing them to confront information they don’t want to). Additionally, similar to how The Hunt often cultivates personalities or desires relating to pursuit, and the Slaughter for anger, The Eye seems to do something similar for curiosity. That is to say, it loves to use the promise of answers or tempting one’s curiosity in order to drag them into its clutches as either victims or followers.

Jon originally went to the Institute looking for answers about his encounter with The Web and Sam is here looking for answers about The Magnus Institute. Both Jonah and The Eye love to leave breadcrumbs and information that promote curiosity and a desire for answers. At one point in TMA Gertrude even describes The Eye as also being the idea of seeking knowledge even if in doing so you might get hurt somehow. I want to make it clear that when I point out the curiosity of Sam or his colleagues at the OIAR I am not saying it is unjustified or even unusual. I also don’t think everyone is a secret Eye Avatar or something. I’m trying to say that there are certain traits The Eye seems to like. People who are curious are more likely to “see too much” or watch others depending on their personality. Wanting to lash out in anger or self defense isn’t unusual or unprecedented behavior in certain situations but it’s still something that an Entity like The Slaughter likes to prey on no matter how justified it might be. This makes me wonder if, similar to how Jonah left trails of statements to guide Jon in the right direction and files to stoke the “nosy” parts of Rosie’s personality in TMA, that someone or something is purposefully trying to guide Sam in a certain direction for various reasons. There’s the potential paperwork sure but we get this interaction.

CELIA 

“Well, I’m glad you’re in a good mood, ‘cause I’ve got some bad news. I can’t find anything more on the Magnus Institute and honestly, at this point I am out of ideas.”

SAM 

“That’s all right. I really appreciate you humoring my little crusade but maybe Alice is right. Maybe I should pack it in.”

CELIA 

“I’m sorry.”

SAM 

“Life’s too short right?” 

CELIA 

“(standing) Isn’t it just. Fancy horrible coffee?”

SAM 

“Nah I’m good. Besides these bad boys won’t fill themselves in.” 

CELIA 

“(smirking) Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”

And then, I shit you not, the next statement CHESTER spits out starts with a ping to grab Sam’s attention before a “Magnus Institute – Manchester. Private and confidential.” The fucking second Sam gives up the computer just decides to give hima new lead. Alright, I can say with relative confidence that it’s pretty safe to assume that these statements aren’t completely random (at least not all of them). I don’t know who / what is picking them and when or for what reasons but if these statements are random some of the times they’ve popped up have been a hell of a fucking coincidence I’ll tell you what.

The statement also has this at its beginning

Magnus Institute – Manchester. 

Private and confidential. 

Viability as subject – none 

Viability as agent – low 

Viability as catalyst – Medium. 

Recommend referral to Catalytics for Enrichment applicability assessment. 

Last episode I wondered what was up with the TMP Magnus Institute’s “gifted kids programs” and wondered if they were looking for people with supernatural abilities or those who had some kind of interaction with leitners or artifacts. I don’t think the person in this statement is a kid but the mention of a subject, agent, and catalyst is interesting. I previously also wondered if perhaps the government was using the Entities as some sort of secret weapon or back pocket type stuff. Y’know Eye aligned spy networks or Slaughter enhanced soldiers, stuff like that.

I’m not really sure if this is the case or any of the stuff I’m mentioning is actually connected, and the Institute and government may be unrelated in this universe, but the mention of viability relating to “subject”, “agent”, and “catalyst” is curious and I don’t think terms like this were really used by the Institute in TMA. The most common and notable phrases were things like “Avatar”, “Monster”, “Marked”, “Victim”, etc.. I wonder what these newer phrases mean. Is it “subject” as in test subject? “Agent” like someone who is meant to investigate a Power or someone who is using the abilities of the Entities for some reason? “Catalyst?” A Catalyst for what? A catalyst for a ritual, a catalyst that an Entity is attracted to, a catalyst for abilities? I wonder if these terms are meant to refer to people or artifacts? Maybe I should actually comb through the statement before making long winded guesses though.

This statement revolves around a pair of dice and they are immediately presented as dangerous since the statement giver says “Yeah, I see you not touching them. Smart. But gloves aren’t going to be any protection if your hand slips and they go clattering across the table. I’d put them in that box real careful, because let me tell you, those babies are due for some serious bad luck.” They also mention “So yeah, I tell you all about them, how I got them, all that crap and you just… You take them away, right? You accept them? Good. I think. I’m pretty sure that’s how it works. It’s how it worked for me, at least. Put them in whatever vault you like, bury them, drop them in the ocean, for all I care. All that matters is that they’re yours now.” This all seems similar to TMA’s Institute. The person recounting this tale is doing so in a form that sounds like a statement and the Institute in TMA is also noted as having an artifact storage. Sasha mentions that she worked there for a bit as a lab rat before moving to the Archives and noted some of the strange supernatural objects there.

The statement giver then proceeds to explain how they came across the dice. Their nerdy friend Gary roped them into playing a session of Advanced DnD (Dungeons and Dragons) before they drifted apart after they finished going to their school. But then last year someone named Carl breaks up with the narrator and moves to Doncaster, which means that they haven’t seen each other very much. Despite the fact that they weren’t “engaged or anything” the narrator says that the break up still hurts. That’s when the Gary guy from earlier suddenly calls the narrator asking them to join his playgroup. They end up going to Gary’s apartment and note that while the place looks nice Gary is “looking kind of haggard. He’s wearing this obviously expensive long-sleeved turtleneck but he’s got bags under his eyes, his trousers are torn and he’s walking with a limp. ” Given what we later learn about the dice, most likely the torn trousers and limp came from a bad event caused by a bad roll. The exhaustion might be due to the seemingly addictive nature of the dice in question.

The speaker asks Gary if he’s okay and Gary “mumbles something about a mugging so I leave it alone but I do notice that a bunch of the bulbs have blown and there’s a huge leak over his massive sound system. I don’t say anything though. I mean, it’s not like my tiny rented studio was any better. That said, I do notice a slight stain on his wall that I think might be blood.” Most likely these are the results of accidents caused by Gary messing around with the dice.

The narrator feels extremely awkward because of the scene and and the game Gary tries to teach them is “an entirely different kind of awkward ‘cause I have no idea what he’s on about. Then he says to me that he assumes I don’t have any dice of my own and I tell him no– I’ll have to use his. That puts a smile on his face. I know why now of course.” This is the point where Gary passes on the dice to the speaker. “I was expecting him to give me a bunch of those cheap little plastic dice with all the different points, but instead he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of normal ones. Six sides, off white, little black dots, you know what dice look like. I mean, you’re looking at them right now. I ask him if we need, you know, weird dice and he shakes his head, saying this game just uses “two dee six”. He holds them out for me to take them, so I do. God, they felt heavy.” A “d6” refers to a six sided dice. Considering how awkward the game is to the narrator and that it doesn’t seem to be like DnD, it’s very likely that this is a game Gary made up or went out of his way to pick so he would have an excuse to give this statement’s protagonist the two dice. Typically, most aspects of DnD require not only more than 2 people (with 4 to 5 usually being considered ideal) but rolling d20s (a twenty sided die). The narrator asking about “weird dice” could be them referring to d20s. There are certain things in DnD (such as specific spells) that involve rolling a d6 but in my limited experience those tend to be specific situations and I think Gary wants to guarantee that a d6 will have to be used.

The narrator notes “It’s been a while since I played the tables but I’ve played with enough bones to know they were too heavy... And there was something else too. From that point on I own those dice. And I know it.” Immediately after this moment Gary says he has a phone call from someone else in the playgroup saying they couldn’t make it so the game session was canceled. There’s no mention that Gary asks for the dice back or even explicitly offers it to the speaker. It just seems like the narrator just “knew” or it was implied somehow. “Do I really need to give you the whole lowdown on the next bit? I mean, you said you're specifically looking for, what was it, “supernaturally active items” right? I feel like when I tell you I'm giving you a pair of cursed dice you can probably put the pieces together.”

The narrator then begins to roll the dice and starts to notice certain patterns in how they work. “...they make stuff happen. I roll high, good things happen: job offers, free coffees from hot baristas, tax refund; I roll low, bad things happen: Broken tech, lost money, bad moods all around. And when I roll really low... Well, you’ve seen the scars.” So I guess that explains the sorry state of Garry and his apartment. I think it’s interesting that the narrator notes “free coffees from hot baristas” considering that they mentioned feeling hurt from a break up. We learn even more when we are told later in the statement “After a while, though, I did notice that… it's not actually random. You get a few high rolls, your next one's is probably going to be low. And if you've gotten all the bad luck out, you've got good things coming. I know, I know, that's meant to be ’superstition, but I’m telling you, I kept track and I've got enough maths in me to be sure of the odds. They’re not random, it all balances out eventually. So that’s when I get to thinking, what if the person rolling doesn't matter just as long as the rolls balance out overall... Well, you see where I'm going with this.”

“The thing is though I still don’t really know if they ever made me roll them. I mean, I did. A lot. And I knew that the risks probably outweighed the rewards but I don’t think I ever felt them like “calling” to me or anything y’know? It always felt like my choice. Even if it was a shitty choice. Besides, I've never gotten anything good in my life except by blind chance, so why should this be any different?” This remark raises the question on if the dice themselves make you more compelled to roll them or if it just so happens that the dice are somehow attracted to people with a predisposition or propensity for gambling or gambling addictions. However, the narrator also mentions “The weirdest thing, nobody ever said no. Some stranger approaches you slides a pair of dice over to you and tells you to roll them, you say no, right? But they always did. Sure, they'd give me weird looks, tell me to get lost, treat me like the creep I absolutely was, but they still rolled them. And sure, I know better than most everyone loves rolling dice but it does make me wonder how much control I ever really had... ” This could be something like The Web at play or maybe it’s another Entity considering it’s connection to addiction and fears relating to the idea of something else controlling you or a lack of free will.

“I did spread good luck as well as bad. After all, even when you stacked the odds, plenty of people got high numbers and then a letter arrives right there and then with welcome news. I hated them for it though. Those stupid damn grins as they robbed me of my good luck. But when they rolled low, when you could see the misfortune dropping over them like a shadow, or better yet when they rolled real low and you could be certain that the next throw would be a good one. There was a dark joy to that, I’ll admit.” So it doesn’t seem like rolling just any low number absolutely 100% guarantees the next number will be high but it does significantly raise the chances and vice versa for when you roll a high number. While there is, according to the person giving the statement, a pattern of some sort, said pattern still has some luck involved. They even say “And my system worked. It wasn’t perfect, I’d still get a few dud rolls here and there: a broken down car, a missed payment, once I even went through a plate glass window, but for the most part I’d really turned stuff around for myself, offloading all the crap to someone else for a change. Clearly something that idiot Gary had never even thought to try.” Whether or not you actually want to believe this person or want to assume that they were just justifying their continued gambling is up to you.

I question if their assessment about Gary never trying to offload the bad luck onto other people is correct. Like they said, their system was imperfect, so is what they saw just the result of the bad rolls? They did just say that they flew through a glass plate window at some point, but then again the narrator sounds like they are in a better state than Gary at this moment.

Over time the effects of the die seem to shift as the narrator says “And then it started to change and the luck was… different. Not in whether it was good or bad, but how it was good or bad. At first, it had all been pretty normal stuff, sometimes even predictable but gradually it started becoming more… I don’t know, abstract? Like it used to be getting an extra hashbrown or whatever and then it became just being in a good mood and then finally you couldn’t even pin down what had happened you just knew something had. And as my luck kept getting better and better I started to feel less and less… connected to the world. Like I was a lucky ghost, or something, walking with normal but not really one of them anymore. I was just this figure stepping into their lives long enough to gift them fortune or, more often, misery before moving on.” The fact that they call themselves “this figure stepping into their lives long enough to gift them fortune or, more often, misery before moving on” is actually interesting because it sounds suspiciously like the gentleman in Episode 4 and his spiel about luck. I don’t think this narrator and the gentleman are the same person (because the timeline wouldn’t add up) but the gentleman did say “"Luck assumes a myriad of forms, " he proclaimed, his practiced manner warm and inviting, “and today it takes the form of a simple traveler offering you his wares. You mentioned playing the violin, I believe?”” It is also noted that the gentleman in question had a pair of gambling dice among their wares. I wonder if these dice are the same pair.

Weirdly tying into this, the narrator gets like REALLY into character. They “started to enjoy that more than the luck. I was rolling for myself less and less, focusing more on being some mysterious stranger. I even began dressing for the part: I got hold of this long dark coat, a wide-brimmed hat, grew a proper goatee, the works.” This is kind of hilarious because the narrator was bashing roleplaying earlier, but also intriguing because I wonder if the personality we saw from the gentleman in Episode 4 was being brought about or influenced by something. He isn’t noted as having a goatee though and it at least sounded like he didn’t look like a guy larping as a super villain. It might have something to do with the influence of the time period or their personalities, or it could just be unrelated. I would be a little surprised if it was specifically only the dice that were causing both these characters to act this way. Maybe it has to do with the “subject / agent / catalyst” scores the Institute was giving out to artifacts earlier in this statement.

The narrator continues to larp and screw people over (with the occasional blessing of good luck) until they “see Gary, sat in a coffee shop just down the road from the fancy uptown flat I was living in (thank you double-six). And he looks normal. Not happy, exactly, but certainly not the miserable shell he'd been when I saw him last. And a vicious little idea comes to me. So, I walk up to him and say hello.” So, the narrator does just that and describes Gary’s face as “Guilt at first sure but then it slides into confusion when he sees the outfit. He starts to stammer out some halfbaked apology when I hold up my hand to stop him. I put on “the voice” and tell my old friend thank you so much for the gift and that I want to pay him back. He knows what's coming then even before I take them out and place them on the table between us.” It’s clear that Gary doesn’t want to roll the dice but grimly does so anyway. Snake eyes. Both the dice land on a 1 and it is the first time the narrator has seen this bad of a roll occur. “Never in all the thousands of times I’d seen them rolled, clattering across someone’s future. Maybe they'd been saving themselves for a special occasion, an honor for an unworthy keeper. Or maybe Gary was just really, really unlucky. Either way, there's this moment of silence as we both stare at the table and the dice stare back.”

As soon as that occurs a truck barrels through the wall of the coffee shop and kills Gary in a quite gruesome fashion. “Apparently the driver was asleep at the wheel. The building is wrecked but somehow nobody else was hurt except for Gary. Just unlucky, I guess.” The narrator staggers away from the scene before the police and ambulance arrive before throwing up. The sight of Gary’s death had been too much so they decided they could no longer keep them. “And that brings us about up to date. They're yours now, and I never want to see them again. Don't get me wrong, it’s a blow but I’m just not the right guy to carry them. Besides I've seen how they treat people who give them away. It's a damn shame, though. Well, maybe just once more. For old time's sake. [Transcription ends due to interruption. Statement giver declared dead by paramedics at scene.]” So it seems like the dice react negatively if you try to get rid of them.

So like always, if I was to try to fit these within the framework of Smirke’s 14 (plus the Extinction). The two Entities that seem the most likely to me at first blush are The Desolation and The Web.

There actually seems to be quite a lot of confusion about The Desolation and what it is, so let’s try to define it first. What The Desolation actually tends to relate to is the fear of loss, usually (but not always) via the destruction or damaging of something. This seems to be very broad and can range anywhere from losing a loved one (which causes The Desolation to overlap with The End a lot since death is a very scary way to lose someone), to the idea of losing something like a home or precious object.

I’ve seen a lot of people argue that The Desolation is “fire” in a similar manner to how The Dark is well… the fear of darkness but I would argue this is a bit of a misconception. The reason why The Desolation likes to manifest as fire is because of the association with pain and destruction. Fire can burn down entire neighborhoods and can continue to spread and consume the things you love, taking them away from you in the process. In fact, it’s not really the fire itself that matters to The Desolation but rather the pain, and destruction. This is why in TMA one of the groups following it is known as the Cult of the Lightless Flame. As said in MAG 89 (Twice as Bright) we get this interaction between Jon and Jude Perry-

JUDE

Oh please, your god is nothing! The Eye, Beholding, Ceaseless Watcher, whatever you call it, that’s all it does, it watches and knows, sitting bulbous and comfortable in the ignorance of infinite knowledge.

I serve a reckoning, a surging tide of destruction and pain.

ARCHIVIST

The Lightless Flame.

JUDE

The Desolation. Blackened Earth. The destructive, agonising heat of burning flesh and land scoured of life. The light, the comfort of fire stripped from it, leaving nothing but the terror of its approach.

The word “desolation” itself is defined as “a state of complete emptiness or destruction.”

So the Desolation isn’t trying to connect itself to fire in its entirety (since that would include light, comfort, warmth, cooking, etc.) but fire specifically in relation to destruction. It’s not guiding you anywhere or shielding you from the night, only burning your house and all you hold dear. It’s also notable that no members of the Cult of the Lightless Flame seem to have the ability to produce fire with their own power. Their bodies are kind of like hot wax and they need an external source to make fire (such as a lighter). The reason for this is because The Desolation mostly just wants them to burn and destroy things. While The Desolation overlaps with The Slaughter a lot, due to violence being a common way to lose someone or something (think violent murders and robberies), The Desolation is ultimately the fear of things like loss and destruction while The Slaughter is the fear of violence. If someone is stealing or smashing your fine glass china collection that is usually The Desolation. If someone is stabbing or shooting you directly that tends to be The Slaughter.

Of course, how does this really prove my point? Well, keeping with the themes of loss there is actually a precedent for The Desolation manifesting as just supernatural bad luck causing you to lose things. In MAG 37 (Burnt Offering) Jason North accidentally disturbs a ritual site that had been set up by The Cult of the Lightless Flame and proceeds to slowly lose the things he cares about 1 by 1 until he kills himself out of fear of losing his son (which seems to work). The point of this specific ritual was not to bring The Desolation into the world but to target Gertrude and potentially undo whatever weird binding thing she did to Agnes. In Jason’s statement we get “I just need to know if you can save my son. I’ve asked and asked and your people only ever tell me to write my statement. Put it down on paper for investigation. Is that going to help? No. Of course it isn’t. Even if you had the power to do something, would you? Or would you rather watch my son burn so you can take notes. I’ve been drinking. You can probably tell from the stains. Well, I don’t plan to apologise for ruining your precious paper, and I don’t plan to stop. Only way to keep the fear from settling in. If I’m scared I’m going to lose Ethan like I lost everything else, then I’ll curl into a ball and never get up. I won’t be able to do anything to stop it. I won’t let my son burn, even if you cowards don’t have the guts to step up and do something.” and “Because from that moment on, everything I love and value has burned or been destroyed. My car overheated on the way back to the Forestry Commission, and I barely got out before the engine caught fire. My house was a smouldering heap of blackened rubble before the end of the week. Electrical failure. I don’t want to talk about what happened to Lucy. I don’t want to think about her face at the end. Now there’s only one thing I have left that I value. That I love. And I cannot lose him. I can’t lose Ethan. I shouldn’t be in this mess. It’s absurd. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just dropped a bottle. That’s all! I don’t deserve this. I don’t.”

So there is a precedent for The Desolation manifesting as bad luck, accidents, disaster, etc. but how does this explain the good luck that the two dice seem to provide. Well, as I’ve mentioned in my previous Quick Thoughts the Entities aren’t objective embodiments of concepts but the fear of those things. The End isn’t a psychopomp or the embodiment of death but rather the fear of death. So while The End keeping people alive might seem counterintuitive, what it is doing is feeding on the fear people have of dying rather than the act of dying in and of itself. The longer someone is alive the more they can fear dying. Sometimes the Entities seem to like giving people “boons” or “protection” so that the people in question can fear losing it until / if it is taken away. Even The Hunt does technically allow you to fight back against things hunting you if you embrace it. Which isn’t that much different than The End protecting a victim from death as long as they act a certain way.

So, I would argue that what we could be seeing is The Desolation giving people stuff so they can fear losing it all the more. If the dice only ever gave bad luck there would be a lot less incentive to actually roll them and if you ended up losing everything you might end up with nothing to lose anyway. Fluctuating between good and bad luck allows The Desolation to profit off the idea of loss and destruction as much as possible. 

Additionally, no matter how the dice are used an Entity like The Desolation still benefits from it. If you pull a Gary and only roll the dice for yourself you will lose things and destruction / damage will ensue which can generate fear. It got so bad that Gary was desperate to give the dice away and he seemed terrified the next time he saw them. If you try to game the system, like our narrator, The Desolation still wins. For one, the narrator’s system isn’t perfect so you can still fear losing things from bad rolls and whenever someone rolls well the narrator viewed them as stealing their good luck (i.e. fearing the loss of their good luck). Secondly, even if it was perfect, the only way to benefit from good luck like that is to pawn the bad luck off on someone else. In such a case you are probably generating a trail of fear as you make other people suffer the worst of the dice’s effects. The Desolation may not be feeding on your fear if you do this but now it’s just feeding on the fears of others while it rewards you for feeding it (which isn’t much different to how Entities treat things like Avatars). Of course, trying to get rid of the dice seems to create even more fear since you will probably just die the second you roll them after intending to give them away.

Luckily, the possibility of The Web doesn’t need as much explanation. While The Web is sometimes assumed to just be the fear of people manipulating you, it seems to be more like the fear of being controlled by something else in general. This is most apparent in The Web’s connection to addictions and manifestations connected to that. It’s the idea that you are no longer in control and are now being controlled by something else (the addiction itself). So you could argue The Web here due to the connection to addiction via the form of a gambling addiction.

You could also argue The End because trying to give away the dice seems to kill the person trying to do so. Additionally, The End has manifested as game pieces before in MAG 29 (Cheating Death) in the form of “a chess knight, a domino and a pair of dice, each scrimshawed out of old bone.” I don’t think the dice mentioned in MAG 29 are the same ones we are seeing in this TMP statement since they aren’t made of bone and they have vastly different effects and purposes. I would say that some of the other Entities kill people a lot for the sake of fear, especially ones like The Desolation, so it’s a bit tough since you can’t always just point to every instance of a character dying and say “IT’S THE END” in the same way not every statement taking place at night is related to The Dark. I would probably be much more inclined to argue The Web or Desolation here instead of The End.

Considering that the narrator dies at the end of the statement, I’m inclined to believe that the viabilities relating to subject, agent, and catalyst probably refer to the dice themselves. But this doesn’t really make what these attributes are referring to any clearer.

Subject has a lot of definitions and can mean “a person or thing that is being discussed, described, or dealt with”, “likely or prone to be affected by (a particular condition or occurrence, typically an unwelcome or unpleasant one)”, “dependent or conditional upon”, “conditionally upon,” and “cause or force to undergo (a particular experience of form of treatment)” So in this case the subject in question might not be in reference to a test subject but something that can be controlled or influenced by people or some other factor. This factor could simply be the kind of person using them, but it could also refer to something like Smirkean-esque architecture effects. In TMA certain architecture could actually influence how specific artifacts behaved and some would even become more or less stable. This is most notable with leitners and in MAG 80 (Librarian) Leitner says “An unexpurgated copy of Ruskin’s The Seven Lamps of Architecture, published in 1845. Of course, Ruskin didn’t even begin writing the book until 1846, and the text of this one varies markedly from the version that was distributed. It gives an acute sense of the walls pressing in around you, and if consumed recklessly, will physically entomb the reader. Over the years, I have found that it interacts with Smirke’s architecture, and those tunnels specifically, in a more predictable way. By carefully reading specific passages in certain locations, I am able to exercise… a degree of control over the substance of the tunnels.” Like I mentioned last time, I don’t know if Smirke’s architecture specifically is present in TMP in the same way it was in TMA, and it could be some other environment, architectural, or landmark related effect. So the low subject score could be due to the fact that the dice don’t really react to any outside factors. Rolling them a certain way or in certain areas doesn’t make you more or less likely to get lucky rolls for example.

An agent can actually mean a lot of things and can also refer to “a person or thing that takes an active role or produces a specified effect.” So maybe agent in this case refers to how consistent or predictable the dice are in their effect and what the effect actually is. Easier to control or predict artifacts might have higher scores in relation to viability as an agent.

Catalyst is a word that can mean “a person or thing that precipitates an event.” The problem here is that what this could be referring to is even more vague. Is it referring to the ability for the dice to cause specific events like bad / good luck or is it meant to act as a catalyst for say a ritual, monster, or ceremony? If you were to assume catalyst just means the artifact is causing some sort of event then it could just refer to the severity or how big events related to the dice are. The narrator notes that sometimes the luck takes the form of small things and other times really big things in one’s life, which could explain why the catalyst score averages out to a medium. In essence the dice might have really high highs and really low lows which evens out at a medium score.

These measurements would also imply that the Institute might have experimented on people, which is something we know the TMA Institute actually did too. In MAG 39 (Infestation) Sasha says “Did I ever tell you I first joined the Institute as a practical researcher? I had to analyse and investigate all the stuff in here. Take notes after sleeping in the rusted chair, write in the memory book, all that sort of thing. I transferred after three months. Would’ve quit, but couldn’t afford to back then.” and Jon says “Of course, I believe. Of course I do. Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artefact Storage? That’s enough to convince anyone. But, but even before that… Why do you think I started working here? It’s not exactly glamorous. I have… I’ve always believed in the supernatural. Within reason. I mean. I still think most of the statements down here aren’t real. Of the hundreds I’ve recorded, we’ve had maybe… thirty, forty that are… that go on tape. Now, those, I believe, at least for the most part.” I also wouldn’t put it past the Institute to sacrifice people in the name of accruing knowledge. Not only does this fit into some of the themes of The Eye but it also has a precedent in TMA with the Institute and other people like Leitner in his library having sacrificed people to better understand artifacts. Sacrificing people to study artifacts isn’t a new topic in TMA.

We cut to Gwen and Lena in the manager’s office via landline, and Gwen gets her first task as an Externals Liaison- “You are to visit a man by the name of “Nigel Dickerson” and hand him this envelope which contains a name and address. Take note of anything he says or does in response, especially his stress levels and emotional state, as well of those of any companions.” The fact that Gwen is supposed to take notes like this reminds me of The Eye and the whole idea of “drinking in” the fear of others via being the witness to their suffering. It could also be the idea of “seeing too much” or something more akin to a statement. Now that I think about it, Gwen is delivering a name and address? Doxxing people or sending information is very Eye and it could point to Lena trying to scare Nigel on purpose but there’s no telling if this is what it’s about. It could be that the name and address represent a meeting place or something similar. Maybe even a target?

Gwen expresses confusion and says “Nigel Dickerson. As in the Nigel Dickerson? From tv?” to which Lena seems unfamiliar. “You must know him. He was huge in the 90s. Saturdays on Six? Mr Bonzo? The Prank Tank?”

We then get this interaction

GWEN 

“And why not just email him?”

LENA 

“Because I have found over the years that anything less than the personal touch in these situations often leads to… misunderstandings. Besides, I thought it might be informative for our new Externals Liaison. “

GWEN 

“Is all this… theatricality really necessary?”

LENA 

“I can assure you it is. Consider it an audition if you like. And try”

In TMA, Jon seemed to gain more power and strength when he took live statements from people as opposed to recorded ones, so we know that while The Eye does deal in records a lot it seems to love its statements and observations of fear fresh when possible. The “theatricality” might be necessary if the point is to scare someone but I’m not 100% sure. Either way, Gwen is probably in for more than she bargained for.

We cut to Teddy and Alice at the pub via Alice’s phone. It seems like Teddy’s new job hasn’t worked out since “They actually started plans to downsize the day before my interview and it turned out their hiring department didn’t get the memo.” Alice says Teddy didn’t deserve that and Teddy responds with “Yeah well, since when does anyone get what they deserve eh?” which is interesting considering the last statement. I don’t think it was Teddy that gave the statement, but the whole idea about the dice giving good luck and bad luck but still having some sort of “balance” is an interesting parallel to Teddy’s sentiment. Especially, since the narrator tried to keep all the good rolls for themselves while sticking everyone else with the bad rolls.

Teddy still seems like he doesn’t want to go back to the OIAR as he says “You hear me asking for a job? I only just got out, I’m staying well-shot of that creepshow.” The transcripts also clarify that Alice is relieved that Teddy isn’t asking for his old job back. Alice goes on to say “It’s all right. You met Sam obviously and then we had Celia join on top of that so we’re all staffed up for a change which is… nice.” implying that it’s not super common for the OIAR to be fully staffed. Alice saying “(unconvincingly) Ok, first, I was being super ironic, and second it is “nice”. We’re more or less on top of the case-load and Sam and Celia get along great.” would imply that part of the reason she and Gwen often seem behind on work to an extent is due to the OIAR being understaffed.

Sam arrives just as Teddy leaves for another interview and Sam does make small talk with Alice; it becomes clear that he’s here to ask Alice to investigate the ruins of the Institute with him. Sam asks Alice to join him instead of Celia because while she did come to investigate Gerry and Gertrude he doesn’t feel like he’s close enough to her to be asking her to investigate shady ruins. Sam also mentions “Listen, I know that you said I shouldn’t pay too much attention to the cases and that, but I genuinely think there might have been something really weird going on at the Magnus Institute and then there was this new case that came up and-” which makes me suspect again that not all the statements the computers spit out are randomly chosen. I also wonder if Alice had a similar experience with oddly specific statements or if she just finds them horrific to listen to (which is fair if that’s the case).

Conclusion

I’m curious about what the Institute was measuring for in this universe. Is the “Magnus Protocol” the government working directly with the Institute at some point to make something or was it something made in response to something that happened to or within the Institute? For example, maybe an Institute test / experiment got out of control and led to the Institute’s destruction? That doesn’t seem super likely at the moment but it’s an idea.

[blowflyfag]

WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE: January 2003

SUPERFREAK

Brace Yourselves: Big Poppa Pump and the Largest Arms in the World are Here

By Mike Fazioli

Go ahead and holla. It’s impossible not to hear Big Poppa Pump.

Scott Steiner, one of the most-anticipated signings in WWE history, boasts one of the most impressive resumes in sports-entertainment, with a record of dominance dating back to his days as an All-American amateur at the University of Michigan. The Steiner Brothers, Scott and Rick, were one of the greatest tag teams in history, with title reigns in WWE (twice in 1993) and the old WCW (six times), as well as two turns as IWGP International tag champs in Japan (1991, 1992).

Steiner’s first singles title came in WCW when he won the Television Championship in 1992. But his true singles dominance came to the fore after he shocked the world by turning against his brother Rick and joining the New World Order (nWo) in 1998. Calling himself Big Poppa Pump, Steiner won the WCW United States Championship in 1998, and fulfilled his long quest to become a singles World Champion on November 26, 2000, when he beat Booker T for the WCW World Championship. 

When WCW invaded WWE in 2001, most experts predicted that Big Poppa Pump would be at the vanguard of the invasion. But Steiner, whose loyalty to WCW ended once and for all when he joined the nWo, decided to bide his time instead. He would come to WWE when he decided the time was right now. That time is now. 

In addition to his incredible history of success, Big Poppa Pump possesses possibly the most impressive physique in the history of the business. He claims to have the largest arms in the world–a claim that has yet to be refuted. He still has the technical skills and knowledge that made him one of the nation’s premier college wrestlers, and he now augments that with what can only be described as superhuman strength and power. Add to that the fact that Big Poppa Pump is one of the most volatile and unpredictable men in the business today, and it’s easy to see why he was so coveted by both Raw and SmackDown!

WWE Magazine caught up with the one and only Big Poppa Pump recently, and the interview was everything one could expect from the “Genetic Freak”--wild, unpredictable and mesmerizing. There is no nonsense to Big Poppa Pump. He is extraordinarily blunt when he speaks about his ring skills, as well as his popularity with the “freaks”--his innumerable female admirers the world over. He may also very well be the future of WWE because, as he succinctly puts it, how can anyone be expected to hold their own against a genetic freak?

WWE Magazine: What have you been up to since the fans last saw you? What took you so long to get here?

Scott Steiner: I’ve been doing what I always do–working out, hanging with my freaks worldwide and having a good time. It was just a question of timing. When I wanted to come here, I came here. When they had WCW vs. WWE and the invasion, I never considered myself a WCW guy. I was a nWo. When I was in the nWo and I said WCW sucks, I meant it. That wasn’t something I wanted to be part of. 

WWE: There are probably some WWE fans who aren’t familiar with Big Poppa Pump. What can they expect from you?

Steiner: Anyone who’s not familiar with Big Poppa Pump has been living under a rock or in a cave. They can expect everything I’ve been doing before–being completely out of control. That’s what I do best. When I come to the arena, anything can happen. 

WWE: Some guys new to  WWE will come in and say they’re just looking forward to being part of the team and doing their best to fit in. But that doesn’t fit Big Poppa Pump’s personality. Are you looking to come in and make a huge, immediate impact?

Steiner: Of course. I'm here to make an impact. I’m a genetic freak. I’m the man with the largest arms in the world. Why wouldn’t I make an impact? As far as being part of any team. I’m my own man.

WWE: You were a WWE Tag Team Champion years ago with your brother Rick, and you competed on the first-ever Raw. How would you best describe how much you’ve changed in the eight years since you were last in WWE?

Steiner: I’ve changed a lot. When I was Tag Team Champions with my brother, I was just out of the University of Michigan for a couple of years. I was still naive to the real world. Things have changed. I’ve stopped looking through rose-colored glasses. The world is not the perfect place your parents make it out to be. People in this world suck. That’s the attitude I started to take. I evolved, and that’s what came up. That’s who I am. I’m not a nice college boy anymore. I've seen the world and come to the realization of what’s really out there. I started speaking my mind and haven’t stopped. 

WWE: When you look at the Raw roster, whose asses are you most looking forward to kicking? There are a lot of candidates.

Steiner: Yeah, there are a lot of candidates. You always have to look at who’s the champion. A lot of people–an average Joe Blow like you–might not be able to comprehend this statement, but when I wrestle Triple H, I’m going to make it look easy. I’m going to do it with style. There was a guy down in WCW who shaved his head and kept on saying, “Who’s next? Who’s next?” Well, when it was my time to be “next,” I took all his power moves and beat him. 

Power guys–the guys who rely on strength–play right into my hands. How are you going to rely on strength when you’re up against someone who possesses the power that I do? They do their best stuff, realize it’s not  good enough, and they’re putty in my hands. I love wrestling power guys. You cannot match power with a genetic freak. I have the largest arms in the world. I’m a genetic freak! How are you going to match power with me?

WWE: In addition to your power, you were also an All-American amateur wrestler at Michigan. Combine that with your superhuman  power and your natural aggression–is there anyone in WWE who can hang with Big Poppa Pump?

Steiner: It’s hard to hang with Big Poppa Pump. Let’s just put it that way.

WWE: Is there anyone here from the WCW days who you have unfinished business with?

Steiner: I don’t put people in categories like WWE or WCW. I don’t look at the names or the faces.

Steiner: I’ve been beating up people my whole life. I use up more energy at night with my freaks than I do beating people up. The in-the-ring stuff is easy compared to hanging with my freaks. They don’t call me the Big Bad Booty Daddy for nothing.

WWE: What’s your opinion of working for Eric Bischoff again?

Steiner: I never had a problem with Eric. He knew enough to stay out of my way. He didn’t try to hold back the reins. I just went in there and did what I had to do. I never had a problem with him. 

WWE: Are you worried about any limitations your body may put on you?

Steiner: Injuries are a part of the sport, you know. As you can see, I still look great. I’ve overcome the injuries. I’m still here, still on top, and there are no limitations. Whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. I’ve had my share of injuries and overcome them. They’ve made me work harder, and I’m better because of it.

WWE: Some have called you volatile or unstable. How do you respond to that?

Steiner: I am. So what? That’s my nature. I never took any [crap] from anybody. Why should I? I wouldn’t say I'm unstable. I was born with a wild hair up my ass, and I've never had any reason to try to take it out. I like living my life the way it is–wild. Until I'm dead or in jail, that’s how I'm going to live; balls to the wall. In the ring, outside the ring–balls to the wall, always.

WWE: How hard do you have to work to get in that kind of shape? How much of it is just being a genetic freak?

Steiner: A lot of it is being a genetic freak and a lot of it is hard work. As you can see, someone like me only comes along once in a lifetime. I’m like lightning in a bottle. It’s rare. My time will come and my time will go, but like I said, people like me only come along once in a lifetime.

You tell me–who looks better than me? Who has ever looked better than me in this business? Who else looks like me and has my wrestling ability? You go ask my freaks how good I am. That’s the bottom line. You can only fight and wrestle for so long, but until the day you die you can reach the summit, reach the top of the mountain with your freaks. It’s Nirvana, man. Nothing’s better than being with a set of long legs.

WWE: Is there anyone Big Poppa Pump looks to for inspiration?

Steiner: Are you [freakin’] kidding me?

WWE: What would winning the World Heavyweight Championship mean to you?

Steiner: It would be nothing if I were wrestling Joe Blow. It all depends on who I’ll be wrestling for the championship. If it’s against Triple H, The Rock, Brock Lesnar or someone people see as a legend or a true talent, and I can kick their ass, then it's an accomplishment. But just being called a World Heavyweight Champion without having beaten anyone for the title wouldn’t mean [crap] to me.

WWE: There are a number of hot Divas in WWE, and you’re famous for being a ladies’ man. Have you taken a look at WWE’s collection of freaks? What do you think?

Steiner: Yeah, there are a lot of hot ladies here. Big Poppa Pump is like a chameleon. It doesn’t matter what nationality you are, or if you’re a blonde, brunette or redhead. It doesn’t really matter. The one thing about Women is, you take them to Nirvana, and they’ll never stop calling you. It’s always the same. If you treat them right, they’re yours for life.

WWE: What message do you have for all your freaks out there who may be reading this?

Steiner: Big Poppa Pump, the Big Bad Booty Daddy, is back in circulation. Holla if you hear me!

[creativepawsworld]

Everything But You - Part 2

Pairing = Cillian Murphy x OC

Summary = Brianna attends the concert of The Son’s of Mr Green Genes. She can’t decide is it the music she likes or the lead singer? 

Warnings = Language, Grammar, Implied cheating, 90s Cillian...

Word Count = 2917

Saturday came around a lot faster than I had expected and I was incredibly nervous. In a blind panic, clothes were flying over my shoulder, landing in a pile on the floor behind me as I tried in vain to find something to wear but I had nothing. 

I felt ridiculous. I didn’t know this guy, I knew nothing about him but here I was struggling to find an outfit that would hopefully impress him and have his eyes solely on me for the night. 

After doing some research I discovered the band was named after a song by a man Frank Zappa, who was a rock musician. Connecting some dots in my head, I went on to assume that the band Cillian played with was also rock. A genre I was excited to fully explore, but only through him. 

“We don’t even like rock music Brie, why are we going to see a rock band instead of going to the club with Billy and Marion?” Aoife asked from her spot on my bed, her blusher brush pointed towards me.

I had invited Aoife around to get ready at my house before telling her that we weren’t actually going to the club, instead we were going to the Taphouse bar to see a band. Keeping it as vague as possible.

“Because I want to see this band Eef.” I huffed, ready to throw my entire wardrobe in the trash. My hand came up to my forehead pushing the hair back while wiping away the thin layer of sweat. “Try something new. I’m going to law school, it’s time to expand my interests.”

“Fair. But why are you struggling to find something to wear?” She asked, a sly smirk growing on her face as she flopped herself down on the bed, placing her hands under her chin as she lay on her stomach. “Does this have anything to do with a certain blue eyed stranger by any chance?”

“Wha?” I asked avoiding eye contact with her, sticking my face in the remaining clothes hanging in my wardrobe. “No, no…no, well maybe.”

“AHHHH spill.” Aoife squealed, kicking her legs frantically in the air. Her hands slapping softly off the duvet in excitement.

“He came up to me at the bar last week.” I blushed biting my lip at the fond memory that had been plaguing my dreams. “We talked, flirted I think, then he asked me to come see his show.”

“AHHHH I love it, I love it. I have to call Billy, this is more important than the club.” She squealed so loud that only dogs would be able to hear her.

“Noooo.” I whined turning around to face her, rushing forward to take her phone from her hands. “It will be less awkward if there was only one of you.”

“Rude” She scoffed, pushing herself up of the off the bed so that she was sitting back on her knees, hands resting on her lap, a hurt look crossing her face. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Look Eef, I’m nervous. Really freaking nervous, please don’t make it worse.” I pleaded, tossing her phone back onto the bed, turning back around to face the mess I had made. “Help, meee.”

“Okay, okay move” Aoife instructed standing to her feet and pushing me aside gently with a soft smile on her face. “I’ll fix this.” 

******

After my breakdown, Aoife had sorted an cute outfit for me, a tight red mini skirt that covered my ass and upper thigh pairing the outfit with a matching red spaghetti strap top which show just a little belly. Sexy but passable enough to be believed I wasn’t trying too hard.

The band themselves were amazing. Their style wasn’t just rock like I had predicted. It was a blend of genres hip hop, rock even a bit of funk. it was different, but I actually liked it. 

Watching the band was unreal each member seemed to love what they were playing but Cillian. Cillian was totally immersed in the songs, to a point where he was losing himself to his music. A true artist in my eyes. 

Catching Cillian’s eye towards the end of his set, he dedicated their last song to the ‘beautiful girl he met at a club last weekend’.

Blushing I bit my lip as he threw a wink in my direction while Aoife decided to scream the loudest I had ever heard her scream, hitting me in the side with her elbow constantly. 

“Pffpt, did he get hotter over the week?” Aoife almost moaned in my ear when the set finished. She was gripping onto my upper arm, squeezing it tighter as I watched the band tidy away their instruments. 

Nibbling on the end of my thumb I nodded my head, allowing her to pull me over to the bar. We ordered a few bottles of beer for the boys before finding a table in the middle of the bar, hoping that they would us through the crowd that had began to form. 

“You must be Brianna, Cillian hasn’t stopped talking about a brunette bombshell he met at some club the other night.” A male voice suddenly spoke in my ear.

Turning to face the mysterious voice I noticed the other guitarist of the band. He looked similar to Cillian only much younger. His blue eyes also did nothing for me but he was definitely related. 

“I’m Paidi, Cillian’s younger brother and rhythmic guitar of the band.” He introduced himself, thrusting his hand towards me. Accepting it I shook his hand asking the man his age if he didn’t mind, he just seemed incredibly young to be at a bar. “Between you and me, I’m 14. I’m supposed to be heading home but just wanted to meet you first.”

“Oh my god you are so young.” I gasped, wide eyed.

“Age mean’s nothing when you got the skills.” He spoke confidently, puffing out his chest to appear larger.

“The only skill you have is putting a woman to sleep now bore off before ma comes in ‘ere looking for ye.” Cillian’s strong Irish brogue spoke, my thighs involuntary clenching together at the smoothness of his voice. 

Looking over my shoulder, he was much closer than I anticipated, standing right behind me, a Guinness in his hand. Creating some distance, I ushered Aoife with my hand, taking the seat next to her to let the brothers talk. 

“Come on Cill…”

“Come on nothing, get.” The older brother sounded off. With a loud huff of frustration, Paidi bid his farewells stomping off through the crowd just as the other band members made their way to the table.

“All these beers and they drink Guinness, you could of said!” Aoife scolded, slapping my now bare thigh. The mini skirt I was wearing had ridden up as soon as I had sat down. 

“How was I supposed to know?” I defended swatting her hand away, so I could try and pull the skirt down. Feeling a hot gaze, I looked over at Cillian who’s eyes were set on my exposed skin, an sinful look twinkling in his eyes. 

“You spoke to him.” Aoife countered back scooting over on the chair, waving me to follow creating room for Cillian to slide in next to me. Not having to be asked, he slipped in, thigh brushing against mine as his arm went along the back of the booth behind me.

“So you talked about me?” Cillian smirked, grabbing my attention. He had placed his pint on the table, moving around so his full attention was on me as the other two band members, conversed with Aoife.

“Well you spoke about me”

“Ahhh but I’m not in a relationship.” The cheeky smile returned to his face, his eyes lighting up at the thought of being on my mind.

“Well no, I guess not.” I defended weakly, scooting away from him, only to have him follow. 

“You look fucking stunning by the way. Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.” Cillian complimented, leaning in close to my ear. His lips barely touching against the outer shell as he spoke. 

Revealing in the warm tingling feeling of having him so close. My eyes fluttered shut, my head tilted to the side, exposing my neck. My thighs squeezed together to satisfy the dull ache that was building while my bottom lip fell behind my teeth to stop myself from moaning. 

“Thank you” I breathed turning to face him, gasping slightly at the closeness. All I could see was his eyes. His beautiful bright blue eyes with the small specks of gold and green. 

“BRIANNA” I heard the voice of the last person I was expecting to see, he never came out with me, ever. 

Jumping away from Cillian, I almost ended up in Aoife’s lap, panic coursing through my veins as I stared at Andrew. I could only imagine the thoughts going through his head at what he just witnessed, but nothing happened. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my ass sliding across Cillian’s chest as I tried to move past him, something he did not help with, in fact the smirk on his face told me he rather enjoyed it. 

“Billy told me you were here, who the fuck are they?” He asked once I reached him, his head gesturing towards the boys from the band. 

Glaring at Aoife for telling Billy, I collected my thoughts before answering. Andrew was already pissed off with what he had seen, I did not want to say the wrong thing and make things worse. 

“They are friends, their band was playing tonight and we came to support them. Nothing happened, we are just friends.”

“Right.” He scoffed, glaring towards Cillian who was sitting back in his seat, long arm stretched out so his hand could clasp around the base of his pint, a cocky pout on his lips as he listened to the conversation. 

“Can you stop?” I asked Andrew, rolling my eyes at his behaviour towards Cillian. 

In our two years together I had never seen him act like this. I have never given him a reason not to trust me, yet here he was acting as though he had walked in on me sitting on Cillian’s lap sucking his face.

“Come on man, take a seat there is plenty of room. Enjoy the night.” Cillian spoke up, with a smirk as he offered Andrew the seat opposite him and next to the bass player Casey. 

I could sense the tension building in Andrew, he was absolutely seething under the surface, with a clenched jaw he glared towards Cillian, throwing him a tight smile before shaking his head.

“Nah man, can’t. Some of us have actual work to do.” Andrew spat, through a tense jaw, pushing past me causing me to stumble on my feet slightly but I managed to catch myself before I could fall. 

“Don’t you dare go after him.” Aoife yelled at me but ignoring her words and screams of my name, I gently pushed past the other people inside the bar following Andrew outside, determined to fix this. 

“Andrew, wait.” I called after him, reaching him just as I left the building the cool air nipping at my bare arms immediately causing me to shiver. “Andrew?”

“What? What do you want Brie?” He demanded, turning around abruptly causing me to jump to a stop.  

“Why are you acting like you just walked in on me kissing Cillian? We were only having a conversation.”

“That close?” Andrew demanded, his chocolate brown eyes wide with rage. “You were practically on his lap.”

“I was not, Jesus. We couldn’t hear each other over the noise in there. Stop making this out to be something it’s not.” I scoffed, wrapping my hands around my upper arms to try and shield myself from the cold. 

“You always do this. Disregard my feelings for your own.” He pointed an accusing finger at me, getting right in my face. 

“I always do it? Andrew I am lucky if I can spend five minutes with you. You are always studying or working. You make time for your friends more than you do for me.”

“For fuck sake Brie, I am building a career not messing around with stupid past times like dancing or playing in a band. I am actually doing something with my life.” He brushed off, waving his hand in dismissal as he turned his back to me. 

“What did you just say?” I asked, biting on the tip of my tongue, praying I had heard him wrong but when he turned back to face me the look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. 

“I just meant that….”

“Oh I know what you meant, fuck you Andrew.” I spat, turning away from him. He knew how important dancing was to me. I had told him multiple times, how it helped me feel close to my mother.

“Excuse me?” 

“Fuck you, I’m done. We’re done.” I repeated turning back to face him, his eyes widened in shock at my words but I couldn’t have felt more free. The words felt liberating as they left my tongue. 

“Whatever” Andrew brushed off waving his arm, ready to walk away, just like that, like the last two years meant nothing to him. “Welcome to her mate, fucking trash.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Cillian standing with his friend Casey at the corner of the bar near an alleyway, a cigarette in Casey’s hand. Fighting back the tears, I offered a small smile, wanting the Earth to swallow me whole at the thought of them witnessing what just happened. 

“Have some fucking respect man and watch your mouth.” Cillian answered back stopping Andrew in his tracks.

It had all happened so fast.

One minute Cillian was by Casey in the alleyway the next he was in Andrew’s space squaring up to him, both men puffing their chests as they glared the other down. Cillian was smaller compared to Andrew’s 5’9 stature but it didn’t deter him in the slightest. 

“I call things how I see it mate. She is fucking trash and your in for a world of disappointment.” Andrew goaded, using his chest to bump into Cillian’s. 

“Think the only disappointment here is you mate.” Cillian snapped back, his body not even moving as Andrew’s brushed against his.

“Cillian, come on he isn’t worth it.” I tried to intervene, shoving my shoulder into Andrew’s chest in hopes to push him away but he was solid and wouldn’t move.

Both men were glaring, each man waited for the other to make a move but neither one wanted to be the first. Just as I tried to move Andrew again, he knocked into me with his elbow knocking me off my feet and onto the ground.

“What the fuck man?” Cillian barked, placing his hands on Andrew’s shoulder pushing him back slightly to create some space. “You alrigh…”

Cillian’s words were cut off with Andrew’s fist colliding against the side of his cheek. He was taken by surprise, stumbling over his feet, almost falling to the ground only managing to save himself at the last moment, fingers barely touching the ground.

A new found rage appeared on Cillian’s face as he launched himself forward, throwing his right hand into Andrew face, catching his lip just right that it busted open, prompting Andrew to lift his hand to examine the damage.

There was a moment where the Earth seem to stand still before both men were attacking one another, arms and fists were swinging at each other, screams had erupted from girls who were leaving the bar, not expecting to walk out and see two men fighting.

“Andrew, Cillian stop” I demanded, shouting at the two as I stood to my feet.

I was about to move forward and try to break up the fight when the bouncers from the bar appeared, one grabbing Cillian the other Andrew, both men shouting profanities at the other as they were dragged apart.

I could feel my heart beating in my chest as I looked on, a deep arousal setting in my between my legs as I looked at Cillian. His longer hair, clinging to the sweat of his forehead, his chest puffed in and out as he calmed himself down, pushing out of the bouncers arms.

Sparing a glance at Andrew I felt sorry for him. His lip was bleeding, his perfectly styled blonde hair was ruined and his face was as red as a tomato but I didn’t want to run into his arms and make sure he was okay, I wanted to run to Cillian’s.

“Well excuse me, I would be on the floor right now at the thought of two men fighting over me, Holy fucking God.” Aoife’s voice surprised me, appearing next to me, her arm wrapped around my shoulder.

“It’s not funny Aoife” I muttered, my eyes continuingly glancing over at Cillian who had his hands raised towards the bouncer, promising him nothing more would happen.

“Who you going to choose?” Aoife asked as it seemed like both men were hanging around waiting, waiting for me to choose between them. 

“No one let’s just go” I shook my head. 

“Brie, Brie…” I heard Cillian call but I chose to ignore him. I needed to clear my head and get away from what just happened.

I needed to go home. 

Taglist

@stars-of-scorpio @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyscillian​ @cillmequick​ @forgottenpeakywriter​ @lyarr24​

[thedrunkenreadersreviews]

A Quick List of My Best Rereads of 2023

Ah, I remember when I was but a new reader, exploring all the worlds of books and telling myself, "I'm not going to reread books. That is a waste of time. Time I could spend exploring other realms."

Foolish was I.

(Sip, sip)

Happy winter solstice, my friends, a fitting holiday for this list as one book is what changed my whole opinion on the entire "rereading" thing. To celebrate, let's have some nice Apothic Red Wine and briefly talk about my favorite rereads of 2023. My favorite reads of 2023 will be posted on either NYE or NYD.

(Sip, sip)

Well, let's get to it!

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson

(Sip, sip)

I picked this book up after the announcement for The Mysteries of Thorn Manor, wanting to refresh myself on this incredible world and the characters. I enjoyed everything about this book essentially: the magic system, the characters, the world-building, and---something unique for YA books in my case, especially standalones---I felt the stakes. The dynamics between the characters were fantastic, nothing felt rushed or forced.

It has become a comfort read of mine, as well as The Mysteries of Thorn Manor. There is also the incredible level of creepiness, especially with Nathaniel's nightmares and him projecting those nightmares; that I devoured and always wanted more. Even though The Mysteries of Thorn Manor is a novella, it still delivers heavily on the darkness of Nathaniel's nightmares, which grew more intense following the whole Silas affair. Both novel and novella are exceptional and I will recommend these books any chance I get.

(Sip, sip)

Between by L.L. Starling

I have an entire post dedicated to this book. It is adorable, cozy, funny, heartbreaking, fantastic! The magic is interesting, the characters are treasures, the humor is actually enjoyable, and the plot is engaging. I have scribbled all over the chonk of this book with thoughts, predictions, things I think will be of importance later. I have never done that with a book before.

This book also holds a very special place in my heart as it was the last book I read to my dearly departed cat (yes, he'd snuggle up close and listen to me read, purring in delight, and even hold my page open) before having to watch him cross the rainbow bridge.

Still, I reread it every year as not only does it bring back fond memories, but is also an enjoyable read. It is by an indie author but do not let that dissuade you. It is everything!

(Sip, sip. Pours one out for my baby. Refills. Sip, sip)

Dark Harvest by Norman Patridge

My goodness is the book small but it is written like poetry! Such a silly, creepy idea and yet, I don't know how Norman Patridge did it, but he made it all weave together so effortlessly. You feel embraced by the story, immersed in the culture, like you are a part of it. Lived. in it.

And the October Boy character, ole Saw Toothed Jack, damn is his story and POV one for the ages! What an amazing character! His thoughts, his actions, the mission he is on is such a harrowing journey that I so thoroughly enjoyed reading and it always gives me those sweet, spooky Halloween vibes.

The movie was good, but the book is outstanding! Read it, folks! As is usually the case, the book is a thousand times better!

(Sip, sip)

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

Believe it or not my The Folk of the Air lovers, but Severin, that background character that Jude approaches for help in The Cruel Prince and later requests the sword from in The Queen of Nothing, well, he has his own novel. And he is pretty fucking awesome and he was my first faerie love before Cardan came into the picture.

Severin's story is what made me fall in love with Black's Faerieland. The Darkest Part of the Forest reads like a true fairytale and feels so incredibly cozy and whimsical. And the characters are all so precious, even one of the "villains."

Oh, and "scheming great schemes," yeah, that actually came from this book. So, if you love Cardan, Jude, and the rest of the High Court, you must read The Darkest Part of the Forest. In simple words, it is enchanting.

And it was the first time I teared up during a love confession (Severin, you softy 🥺).

Also, no character is sacrificed in power to favor another, which is what I see a lot of YA authors in fantasy do, specifically to favor the female character. What I mean is, that they will write the male character as faltering in some magical way and then have the female character pick things up and save the day. Holly Black doesn't do that. She doesn't take power away and redistribute it to her female characters. She makes them powerful in their own ways. For example, Cardan is more magically inclined than Jude because he is a full-blooded faerie, of Mab's bloodline, and the High King, while Jude is a far superior swordsman because she was trained vigorously at it by a redcap while Cardan was not. They complement each other, and neither is considered weaker than the other. They both have their strength.

It is the same in this book. Never is Severin's power as a faerie lessened for the sake of building Hazel up, and in the final confrontation, it makes sense for it to play out as it did given the circumstances.

Overall, The Darkest Part of the Forest is tremendous! Give it a read if you haven't. It certainly complements The Folk of the Air trilogy.

(Raises glass)

To you, Alderking Severin, my first and always faerie crush. 💕

(Sip, sip)

The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison

This book ... oh, this book ... I will never get over it. I had mentioned previously that I do not often cry when reading books, and that is true.

This one had me tearing up constantly and yes, even the waters flowed at a certain point. But why?

Some of those tears were sorrow.

Others were joy.

The story of Maia is the most inspiring one I have ever read in any book. Ever. Maia, a goblin in an elf-supremacy world, finds himself suddenly the emperor, as the title implies. And that's it. That is the story. Maia is attempting to navigate through this tremendous obstacle; meeting friends, making enemies (though through nothing that he did beyond just being a goblin), and trying to make as many people as possible happy while questioning and discovering his own emotions towards his family and himself.

Maia is a character blessed with unconditional kindness and empathy. He is a person just trying to make the best out of a most impossible situation. The world-building is exceptional, the writing is superb, and Maia is a character that will touch your heart no matter how stone it is.

There are spinoff novels to this book but, truthfully, this one alone is all you need. It has everything a fantasy book should have minus some grand quest. There is none. It is just about Maia finding the emperor buried beneath years of trauma and prejudice. But even with all the hate, Maia and his friends are a beacon of so much hope.

20/10, one of my favorite books of all time and quite possibly my favorite standalone novel ever written.

(Sip, sip)

Last but certainly not least as we bring in the winter solstice, I bow before my High King and High Queen, and raise a toast to the faerie I love most and my beloved mortal warrior.

The Folk of the Air by Holly Black.

I have come to understand the purpose of rereading books you love because of this series. Granted, when The Cruel Prince came out I originally thought I was not going to be interested in it. But Amazon was persistent, always having it appear as a suggestion whenever I opened up that damn website. And I caved one day, figured I could always return it or donate it.

(Sip, sip)

Now I have nine versions of the damn thing (mutters from rim of wineglass: no, I don't have a problem).

(Sip, sip)

Every time I reread this trilogy, I am reminded of why I fell in love with Cardan, why I aspired to be like Jude and related to her so much, why I adore fantasy, what incredible writing sounds like, and what a faerie book has the potential to be. Cardan is not some thousand-year-old, super intelligent, militaristically inclined, muscular faerie king.

He is a moody, noodly, seventeen-year-old teenager who is ticked that he has a crush on the weird girl and doesn't want any responsibilities whatsoever. It. Is. Genius!

There are always new secrets I'm discovering in the trilogy; the lies within the truth, the truth within the lies, character quirks, hidden jests, and foreshadowing small details.

I had heard that for mortals the feeling of falling in love is much like fear.

Jude, are you afraid of me?

Like, come on! Ugh!

Every year since I purchased The Cruel Prince I have reread this series. And I will continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

(Sip, sip)

So those are my favorite rereads of 2023. My favorite reads will be posted soon, as will be my most disappointing. But, cheers to you, dear readers!

May your Christmas (if you celebrate it) be merry and bright! May your New Year (if you celebrate it) be inspiring and magical, and may the coming days bring you bliss.

Thank you for sharing a drink with me and reading my silly opinions. It means the world to me.

Happy holidays, friends!

Cheers!

(Sip, sip)

[kurumeki]

This will be long and personal, so you can feel free to scroll past it.

Good things of 2023:

Grandmother’s 80th birthday; we had a celebration in a restaurant with family and her friends. Almost 50 people!

Morrie’s live stream Flesh Odyssey at his birthday (4th March)

My best friend @vinidra visited in March and I remember getting wasted and listening to Black Sabbath and Def Leppard till 3am. And watching that one 1989 Aerosmith live! Wasn’t there Dir en grey stream on GALACAA? I think we got access from a friend and watched that too.

On April 1st Morrie’s fan club Reveries opened on BitFan application – with foreign fans finally being able to join. It is a pricey affair, but the consistency and amount of content he brings every single day is so worth it. I love being a Reverie and having near direct contact with Morrie and the fans. So grateful for this community.

Right after Easter, on April 12th, we got BUCK-TICK’s new album. No one would predict it would be the last release before Sakurai passing away… It’s a solid record and ワルキューレの騎行 will forever be one of my favourite songs.

April was such a good month for me – on 18th I got the news I got promoted to a team leader. So, following a big raise for 2022 performance, I got another big raise with role change. Feeling like I’m finally getting the money I deserve for my hard work. The role is difficult and very challenging, but also satisfying and I enjoy what I do. It helped me a lot with improving my communication skills, standing up for myself and feeling confident with my decisions.

End of April was my friend Karin visiting, we went to Metallica symphonic concert in philharmonic and had amazing time overall during the long May weekend.

In May I came out to my co-workers and I was met with so much support I’m still overwhelmed. Being able to feel like I can be 100% myself at work is amazing. You don’t realise you need it until you get this freedom.

May 23rd was Boris live in Warsaw. I reconnected with an old friend and had amazing time with him during the gig. The show itself was everything I ever wanted from Boris – perfectly heavy and fast. Being front row surely contributed to that. My mission was to wait for the band after the show and talk to Atsuo and I succeeded! Got a picture with the band ant all. All possible thanks to a mutual friend of the band and mine.

May 31st – Def Leppard and Motley Crue in Krakow! Again hanging out with @vinidra and his friend. The show… let’s say Motley Crue was meh, though visual and female dancers were incredible. But Def Leppard was there to save the night, it was incredible and I had so so so much fun! Can’t wait to see them again live.

In June I visited Karin in Krynica Morska. It’s a very thin piece of land with sea at one side and huge lake on the other. I loved the beach walks there and hearing the waves at night, when falling asleep.

Also in June my close friend had a major surgery. So brave of her to decide to undergo it and I’m even more happy that she’s made steady recovery, now having no regrets.

June 20th was the day Josh Kiszka of Greta Van Fleet came out! I’m always happy learning that musicians I love are just as queer as me.

And by end of June DEAD END has re-issued all four albums from 80s: DEAD LINE, Ghost Of Romance, shambara and ZERO. Got them all, in true collector spirit.

July 21st Greta Van Fleet released a new album. I wasn’t stoked about it at first but of course – the more I listened to it, the more I fell in love with it. It’s probably my favourite album of the year.

I didn’t do anything special for my birthday on August 12th, but the following week I was flying to Cologne for a week to stay with my best friend. We did a lot of furniture and home decor shopping for the new house she moved into. We went to cinema to see Metallica’s live stream, and otherwise just had good time being lazy. Oh! And I helped her pick out and buy her first guitar. Love the visit in huge 4-story music shop in Cologne.

In September I’ve volunteered to take dogs from a shelter for walks for a day. I want to do it again.

On September 27th Morrie released another solo album Solitudes I. I feel like I didn’t listen to it enough this year, but this is miles better than Ballad D to me.

October 15th was election day in Poland and this was incredible – how many people showed up. For the first time I had to stand in the queue to vote. And we won. Fascist right wing government was overthrown. I have some home things will finally get better in my country.

Fast forward to November 5th – after a lot of trouble I made it to Hamburg and met with a friend I’ve know for years, but never had a chance to see in person. Had amazing time! It’s incredible to have such dedicated Morrie fan so close and be able to talk about music for couple of hours without feeling tired.

November 6th – I also finally met my close friend, we’ve never seen each other before. She’s such a lovely human being. She introduced me to Greta Van Fleet, so it felt only right to gift her a ticket to their show. The live was amazing, the most beautiful show I’ve ever been to. I will never get over how talented those young guys are.

From Nov 7th to 11th I was staying with my friend in Bielefeld. Met her cutest Siamese cat Bibi!

And last thing worth mentioning – I got the courage to go to company winter party and I actually had fun. I don’t remember when was the last time I simply wanted to have fun and when was the last time I danced. My whole body hurt after that night, but I really loved it. Oh, and I stole the neon flamingo lamp. Worth it.

[entering--hyperspace]

Empágos rambles:

First impressions and the moment they realized they were dancing towards something deeper

2. First impressions of each other and how that changed

It's funny because the Dream Visitor disguise made Págos even more distrustful of The Emperor than his actual apperance as a mindflayer would have. Págos is incredibly insightful (proficiency), he knows manipulation, deceit, he knows someone trying to curry favor for their own agenda. He was a soldier, he was taught to do the same thing, of course he would know. So he treated this stranger, someone who appealed too much to his own taste, with none of the true experience to back up the apperance of a grizzled veteran, not to its fullest. So their interactions felt like tip toeing on ice as ive described it before, but there would be moments where the mask would slip, either the emperor would get too fustrated, or he would accidentally let his guard down to whatever he was struggling with. /That/ is what págos would push towards trying to see, and its what kept him from being too antagonistic. 

Meanwhile, The Emperor only saw what Págos vaguely remembered, which already created a bit of a fustrating dilemma. Even moreso when Págos showed he could match every move me made with his own, it made winning him over hard, and it was personally infuriating dealing with someone who shouldnt be able to see past what he was trying to do but Could. Eventually I think this grew into begrudging Admiration, and the games of them poking each other for more information became somewhat pleasant in a way, a chess match with an equal opponent. Overtime, Págos became less of an ally out of necessity, but an ally because he Wanted him to be. He had grown attached to their debates and mind games, he had grown comfortable in the recesses of Págos' mind. Following his actions, delving into his mind as if it were a banquet to pick and choose from, which págos allowed willingly.

3. When did they first "fall" for each other

 I did talk about this on twitter a lot before, but Essentially, for The Emperor he had to go through this entire process of figuring out what exactly he wanted this allyship with págos to be. Págos is different from his previous allies in a way that almost seemed too good to be true. Just as long as he kept the mask up itd work, which was only partially correct. The moment he realized he was fond of him was the moment he realized he could lose him. The fear, the anger of the mask being ripped off and the possibility of death swirling around. This entire time he was puppeteering from the shadows with the upperhand but now he was bloodied and beaten and laying before him. It was scary, págos held his and everyones life in his hands at that moment and yet his expression was stone, his mind was silent, he could not predict what he would say or do. He did not want to lose what he had gained, he was Desperate not to. And then, an offered hand, and the relief that came with it. When págos told him he trusted him more as a mindflayer now than he would have had he kept disguises up it was a new chapter for him and whatever a partnership with págos would entail.

For Págos, it was the talk on the bench in the astral prism, when the emperor's mind wandered into letting him in. It was one of the first conversations they had where there wasnt any disguises in place. The conversation lasted a lot longer in my canon, with págos kind of talking to him about why he doesnt have any particular prejudice against mindflayers and how he sees the world. Even kind of confiding in how he feels different than his companions and finds more comfort in the way the emperor also interprets things. While The Emperor talks about his own experience with his transformation, and how even though hes feeling grief its not an unwelcome emotion bc at least he still Feels something. They end up bonding a lot over the shared feeling of disconnect, and all of their previous conversations are given new light now that identities were revealed, making págos more interested in who he is Himself and their dynamic.

[skylarstark4826]

The war hit everyone differently. Pansy included. At the last moment, she'd turned sides and saved Ron Weasley from an unexpected death. Upon finding this out, her family promptly disowned her. After all, a pureblood shouldn't be lowering herself to the standard of the Weasleys, even if it meant saving a life.

That was why Molly Weasley kindly accepted Pansy into her family's fold. Losing Fred has opened a gaping hole in her heart that no one could have predicted. By taking in Pansy, she could fill that hole by caring for someone who needed it. Pansy was ever so thankful, if slightly uncomfortable, after having been taught to hate the witch basically from birth.

It didn't take long for her to relax in her new life. Currently, Pansy was sitting at the breakfast table with Ron and Harry. Molly made them all eggs and toast before going outside to do some weeding in the garden. Harry was writing in a journal, and Ron was attempting to shine his broom. Pansy, however, was trying to figure out exactly how to tell Ron that her feelings for him had changed.

"Are you and Ginny going out tonight, or do you want to play a round of Quidditch after dinner?" Ron asked Harry, who looked up from his writing.

"I think we're going out, but I'm sure she'd much rather play Quidditch," Harry replied, causing Ron to laugh.

"Too right."

It'd been like this for months now. Pansy would sit nearly silent with Ron, and whoever else was in the room at the time. She'd say a few words here and there, but it was never enough. Over her time at the Burrow, she'd come to see Ron for who he was. He was loving and funny. Really funny. He made her crack a smile more than anyone ever had before. Pansy knew he had no idea of his smile's effect on her.

Even now, when she'd chuckled, he'd smiled warmly at her before returning to his broom. It made her stomach flutter and her heart race. She was falling for him more and more every single day. Since she saved his life and learned what genuine kindness could be, Pansy knew that Ron would be in her heart forever.

"I can't pretend anymore," Pansy finally managed to say aloud. Her hands were clenched in her lap as she waited for a response. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and disappear, but that wasn't going to happen.

"What?" Ron asked, lifting his head from his task. "What are you talking about?"

"This." Pansy gestured between them. "There's something here that I never expected."

Quietly, Harry got up from the table and slipped from the room unseen.

Ron set aside his broom to give Pansy his full attention, an act that only made her like him even more. She swallowed and tried to articulate her words more carefully. "I can't pretend I'm not falling for you, Ron. I know that seems incredibly out of character for me after everything from our past, but it's true." She'd rushed to say the last bit and felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment.

When Ron got up from the table, Pansy thought he would walk out, but he surprised her. Walking around the table, he crouched down and took her clenched hands. Then, unfurling her sweaty fingers, he intertwined his with them. Pansy watched with fascination and wonderment as he did so, hope spreading through her like fiendfyre.

"I've been wondering why you spent so much time with me," he said, his blue eyes alight. "I was hoping that it meant you liked me. Instead, George kept saying you were planning my demise."

Pansy laughed, relief making her feel high. "I saved you. Why would I want to end you?"

"That's what I told him," Ron said, chuckling. "Anyway, he told me not to get my hopes up. Since you saved me and came to live with us, I've fallen for you, Pansy. It's been hard to pretend that nothing was happening between us."

"So, no more pretending?" Pansy asked, her heart practically stopping as she eagerly awaited an answer.

"No more pretending." he agreed, smiling warmly.

Then Ron kissed Pansy, and all that was wrong with the world suddenly melted away.

[gillianthecat]

Not Me

These are my notes, raw and only lightly copyedited, from four months ago, taken as I watched Not Me (around September 8th). In them I think about revolutions and the culture of activism, make predictions about what happens next, am endeared by romance, and fangirl over First. Among many other things. It is interesting to read over what I noticed then and how I felt about it, after having had months to mull it over and reading other people's thoughts on the show. Even now, I still have complicated tangled feelings about the show. It felt incredibly important and unique, and also like it was trying to do too many things at once. It felt flawed to me, swinging between a very human sort of realism and complete ridiculous nonsense. But having since learned more about it's fanfic roots and how much was changed from the novel it was based on (thanks @moonchildridden!), I can see why that came to be, and admire just how political they managed to make this show despite everything. I wrote early on, "this is not escapism for me," and that still very much feels true, even though the romance was beautiful and tender and I adored it. It brought up all my feelings about the times in my life when I was an activist, and about why I'm not doing that now and how I can get back to that. And all my thoughts about how to do activism, and how to actually make change in the world. Which is a lot, and the main reason it took me so long to write about this show. I only took notes up to episode 9, so there is nothing on the last three episodes. It got too intense for me to want to write about it, though I do remember many of my thoughts and want to write more about the series as a whole. I did write some about the romantic relationships in (or not in) the show, my love for Sean in response to an ask, and talked about the realism of the Not Me world in comparison to KinnPorsche in this conversation with @lelephantsnail.

long so all my notes are below the cut:

Episode 1

I get so anxious for characters when they have to pretend to be someone they're not. Although less so here than usual.

Ok. Looks like they have chemistry! I see why they're a popular actor pair!

That dirty oil fight is adorable but also... dirty motor oil! Blech. I can't focus on the cuteness for the grossness of it. 

I like the voice overs actually. They're not necessary, Gun is conveying everything with his acting. But it's nice to have my questions articulated. 

Yok is hot -> Wait, is that First？-> *checks MyDramaList* -> Ah, yes.  That is First. 

Episode 2 (and 3?)

It's so fascinating to be putting together a picture of Black based on the little snippets of what people say or how they react to White.  And of course White is going through the same thing. 

I live in a much drier climate than Thailand, but it still makes me nervous to see people starting fires in the middle of the forest. 😳😬

Oh no! Please don't have this fellow activist vandalizer die in the fire!

This show is intense for me. I'm feeling kinda raw about it. Definitely not escapism. 

I love that they have this mute character and are portraying real issues. I wish it wasn't portrayed in a scene where it felt like Yok and his mom had never met each other before. 

Wow they are not pulling their punches. I am really curious about the context that this got made in, and what the reception in Thailand was like. 

Lots of feelings on my failures as an activist. Something about that room in the garage, evokes all those warehouse punks from my 20s. They still exist, I'm just not a part of that world anymore.

This show is very didactic. I don't know how it would work for me if I was a Thai activist. Or Thai in general. I think if it was a US show, or English language at least, it would feel too didactic. Either annoyingly earnest or I wouldn't trust the filmmakers. 

But because I'm watching it as a foreigner, and it's about a political scene I know little about, the didacticism doesn't bother me. 

Also I'm watching with the assumption that this was politically risky to make. I'm guessing that just making the film is a political statement in Thailand, and so I already admire it for that. Whereas in the US it often feels like it's relatively, not easy, but uncontroversial to make a political film, so I accept more. Or at least don't admire their bravery. It may be hard to get funding, but for the most part it doesn't feel like the government is breathing down filmmakers necks in the same way

I am making a lot of assumptions about the Thai political context. I need to learn more to have a proper opinion. 

However, it feels really honestly radical, and getting that on mainstream tv in the U.S. would simply not happen. Indie films yes. Series by a mainstream company this overtly political no.

In this us there might be radicalism for the aesthetic, but not actually a look into the issues. Not actually a show that direct action as anything real, rather than a dramatic superhero moment. 

I can't even think of any tv shows that are directly about activists and activism. In a metaphorical way, yes,  but not direct like this. I'm sure they exist, but what are they?

And a lot of the tv shows films that are about activism are historical. Black panthers, etc.  

I don't even know about in other counties. 

Whew, this show has got me in my feelings and thoughts. 

Anyways 

I wonder if this show is going to address the parents each abandoning half their children. And how/why etc Black and White didn't talk for a decade(?). Or if that was mostly a plot device to get the false identity thing going.

I like that this is a lot about White's relationships with other people besides Sean. That those seem to be equally important, or more important than his awaking.  

So far it is more about his radicalization than the romance. Which I actually am glad about. 

The pace of Sean figuring out something is wrong is good. There is chemistry but no flirtation or anything like that yet, which feels right. And the fake identity thing gives a good reason for Sean to be an asshole without making him seem like an unredeemable asshole. 

I wonder if we'll ever get to hear what Sean was thinking during this time. I hope so. 

Voiceovers. Getting very didactic. Mixed feelings about that - see above. 

Are they contractually required to have a pratfall kiss? The towel mechanism was stupid (although better than a bouncy wall, á la The Eclipse), but at least the almost kiss was better than usual. I liked that their faces were actually offset, no lips touching or almost touching. That fits them better, is more realistic to what bodies would actually do in that situation, and I'd better for the pacing. 

Guns are a lot more terrifying in this real world than in the mafia world. 

I hope we get more of that dude from the diplomats exams. 

Episode 4

Political modern dance!!

Aaah! The Kinnporsche pool. I'm afraid that's seared in my brain as part of mafia mansion now, I don't know if I can buy it as another place but I'll try. 

Are we suspicious of Todd? 

Initially I wasn't because he was the one bringing White in. And I think people ship Tod & Black. 

But I got suspicious when I saw how rich he is. (Oh right, they were childhood friends.) Is his dad Tawi? Would White have known/remembered that? 

They seem to be a totally isolated group? Which is probably plausible for self radicalized university students?  But also makes the show feel less grounded in real political activist work. Gives everything more aesthetic activism vibes. 

Also these boys don't know how to organize or create a campaign? Which is also plausible, but they feel like dilettantes. I guess I don't need the ideas to be any better, just lots more talking to get there...

Episode 5

Oh, and hooray for a trans woman character who like an actual character and not comic relief or whatever. (Possibly multiple characters in multiple settings (I don't know what I was referring to here)). 

This violent stretching while they're cold is making me anxious. 

Ok this leaping across building stunt is annoying me more than it should. I think I have to let go of my expectations of realism here. The political message is legit. But the depiction of activism is closer to the aesthetic/fantasy side of the scale than I initially hoped. 

Ok. I think I'm not going to love this as much as @lelephantsnail does.  Or as much as I want to.  But I admire it a lot. And if I adjust my expectations I can like it a lot. It's hard to enjoy exactly because it's hitting too close to home. Or at other moments too watered down didactic. (Black is defending capitalism and monopolies? How are they not more suspicious?) But I can enjoy parts. 

Episode 6

Oy. I don't like thread of Gumpa constantly testing them. I get that it's to heighten the tension without going too far into plot that can't be backed out of but... partly I guess I don't think the emotional fakeouts are a good thing. 

And partly I feel like it makes a joke of the activism? Like, it's quite possible it's a real training technique used. But combined with the general floppiness around the activism world building, it just... it's just like a standard spy thriller. Which is fine I guess but not what I expected or wanted. 

Also, if Gumpa can call on all these extra guys for this test, why is their little group so isolated. Gumpa acts like a mentor but is supposedly not the leader? What is their internal organization anyway? What are their connections? Are they just privileged kids who decided to become anarchist [vigilantes] on their own? Are they connected to any broader movement? Have they considered and rejected less violent/illegal means, or is that not happening in this world? Would I understand better if I knew a lot (or even a little) about Thai politics? Or even if I just understood Thai?

Ok, final having a conversation about how to do activism. 

Ok I genuinely love that this... romantic? not exactly yet but there's something there... scene is White-as-Black earnestly discussing political philosophy while Sean is drunk and floppy and red faced. It's just so unique and real. 

Which maybe is why I get annoyed at the other stuff that feels less real. But I will hold judgment to the end, because I honestly don't know who's evolving in what direction. And what the final message on activist tactics/philosophy is going to be. 

I also really like the music (other than overdramatic hospital music.) 

Also! They have a beverage sponsor, and the plot is them targeting a beverage manufacturer?! Bold. 

Police brutality is brought up as well.

I like getting insights into Sean, but I don't think it works with the structure that’s been set up. Mostly we're discovering everything along with White, and then all of a sudden we'll get Sean's memory? It feels out of place. 

Also, I appreciate this version of only-one-bed. OOB as a get-along-shirt. 

These boys are beautiful in sunlight (see: Sean on the rooftop). 

Like I know it's usually good storytelling technique to not have them endlessly talking in the same place. And it adds drama to have the conflict in the moment. But also why the fuck did that not plan all this basic stuff out ahead of time? Why are they having these basic conversations at the site? There had to have been a third option. 

I guess part of what makes me anxious is I can't tell if their bad plans are because they're supposed to be inexperienced activists or if it's because of filmmaking shortcuts (or perhaps even ignorance on her part about radical activism?). 

I genuinely love that they gave this romantic moon gazing scene to a platonic pair. 

Oh poor Gram. I keep forgetting, but these boys don't know their friend is in the hospital and almost died 😞 

Episode 7

I don't know if I've mentioned this yet but I really like the cinematography. 

Sometimes I really love it!! 

See I'm glad they agree with me that Sean's plan was stupid. But why they hell aren't they discussing this beforehand? I feel like every activist group, even the most pro-destruction anarchist terrorists, has endless discussions of philosophy and strategy. Anarchists especially are not just going to follow one guy without asking questions or sharing their opinion. It's just so odd. 

Unrelatedly, I love Yok's tattoos. So hot. I unironically kind of want the bird one. Although I do not have First's biceps and deltoids. 

And I love the set design and these kids hanging out in boxers and low cut tanks all the time. The aesthetic feels very authentic. Which is why it's weird when the activism style doesn't. It's not so much that they're bad at it, but the way in which they're bad doesn't feel genuine to me. But also what do I know. I've never been part of the anarchist property destruction movement. And I don't know what it's like in Thailand obviously. 

Thank you Yok! Finally some logical strategic thinking. 

Ohhh. Interesting intersections here...

(I'm trusting this is not going to end with oh Tawi isn't so bad after all, we should be happy to be part of society etc. But if it does I will be PISSED. 

Ok. This is going somewhere interesting. Starting a movement?

(Yok's fireworks moment was ridiculous but also a wonderful image. And hot. By the way.)

Oh thank god other people. I should have had more faith in the director. 

Yay! Huge rally! But also

Where did this huge rally come from? This is not a spur of the movement reaction to their (frankly) silly little direct action thing. There have been other people planning and organizing against Tawi all along? Why are these kids so disconnected from it?  Like I believe it's plausible that they would be, I just want to understand the story there. 

The secret identity plot creates some weird constraints around the activism plot. Like in a way Sean et al are being de-radicalized? Instead of getting frustrated with the slow pace of community organizing and turning to property destruction, it seems like they started there? 

So Sean and White will meet in the middle? 

This dance!  This feels like a real protest. 

I mean, sometimes a small seeming thing will light the spark. But there also seem to have been organizers there ready to seize the moment and build the movement

And Black is clearly part of a larger movement with Eugene and her political dance. Yok & Sean and there street artists.  Will we ever find out why they were so isolated? I'm starting to have hope that we may. 

Gram is staring at Eugene. But I can't tell if it's because he's in love with her or jealous of her and in love with Black.  Was he lying to Yok about Yok not knowing the person he was in love with?

Also, why couldn't anyone see that video of Black that Eugene took? Was their relationship a secret? 

Registering protesters? I need to read up more. 

Gun does a good job of making Black seem like a different person than White, even than White pretending to be Black. 

Again I keep forgetting Black's friends don't know he's hurt and then I get sad. 

So I guess that Gram is in love with Eugene. What's with the card White found then?

When is White going to tell them all? Are they going to deal with the fact he's been hurting them all with this? 

Nuch's... PSA is what it is. It works here. Despite most of her dialogue being political statements she feels like a real person. And the didacticism of her statement on marriage equality feels good actually. It's a reminder that this film is not just about activists, but it is activism. And to put myself aside, because I'm not actually the target audience. I can watch and appreciate, but it's not about me. 

Oh my god this scene. This fucking scene. I teared up when the queer couple catwalk across the rainbow flag started. I was not expecting that.  And then Sean and White staring at each other across the flag. And walking toward each other underneath it. Sean's expression. Like he doesn't even know what to think any more. Taking his hand. And it isn't even romantic exactly. It's victory. That temporary victory. 

This is the slowest of slow burns and it feels exactly like how their story needs to be told. 

Who is Gumpa in all this, anyway? Why is he training them but not participating? 

The high of victory!

Ooh, Sean and White are sitting on the couch together...

Ok, one thing a love about this is seeing a trans or any visibly queer character I can trust the show will treat them with respect. It's such wonderful and also a relief as a viewer. 

Yikes. I was thinking why is he cooperating with the police and then he started to run, lol. Again. Love this building. Feels like a real art school.

Is this cop or whatever kind of bad guy driving product placement car? That would be hilarious and... something. 

Oh, probably not the bad guy actually. Probably the artists friend rescuing him. It's still hilarious to see him getting handcuffed against the sponsors car. 

God I love all these sets! 

Oh wait, that's the artist himself. I forgot what he looked like. And that he had the cop ID card.

Yok you flirt. First's smile is dangerous. But Yok, why are you carrying this man's wallet around with you? Have you been waiting for this very scenario to arise? 

Hmm. How are they going to handle this cop romance?  I was kinda thinking the ID card was fake. 

I'm not so sure about this other guy yet, but First can probably carry their chemistry on his own. His smile! My god. 

Yok, you flirt!  "Of course you can paint me…” I had to stop and make my terrible gif. 

Ok, maybe this INAR actor can keep up.

Halfway through and it seems the romance arcs are starting in earnest. I am pleased with this pacing I think. 

I was gonna go to bed but now I gotta see what happens now that Sean pushed his way into White as Black's room. 

Also the way Sean (nervously?) fixed his hair though the peephole was adorable. 

Episode 8 

I love the physicality of all the characters in this. They feel like real people. The way they were slouching on the couch last episode so their jackets rode up. So real. Like I feel like I went to college with these dudes at moments like that. 

This scene! The soft warm lighting. The blocking floor bed floor etc. the way they're looking at each other. The way White listens. That story. 

Ack so much adorable. The head bonk 🥺 the trust fall

There's content and awww here and I don't know what to write about first because the aww is so cute. And such a relief. The first real softness between them. 

Oh but the lying. I'm guessing White doesn't even remember he's lying right now. He means it that he wants to trust and be trusted. But it's kind of ironic considering. Will Sean be mad when I finds out Will it be addressed? I'm somewhat hopeful yes.

Although that last line sounds manipulative so I don't know what to think...

And again all I can say is:

This scene. Tears charcoal intimacy the closeups on their faces so much of the time. Inar actor you've got me convinced. The flirting to start that turns so quickly to intimacy. Yes that makes so much sense he would cry being vulnerable like that to this man of all people. Yok's reaction? To draw first and then comfort without asking questions? I'm very curious about where this regretful cop story will go. 

Everybody's spying on everybody. Which is stressful in an activist setting.  But fits the enemies to lovers with several twists thing going on.  So I don't feel bothered. 

Honestly I  think simply connecting them to a broader activist community though the rally eased all my anxieties. I don't know if my objections have been/will be solved but I feel better.

Oh yeah, I forgot about my glasses related questions. How had he been seeing this whole time? They never show him putting in contacts, he just removes the glasses and goes. Does he have a very mild prescription? Are the just for fashion? Has he just not been able to see much (seems unlikely). 

But anyways, Sean is about to figure something out, we'll see how much...

Lol, ten seconds later there's a contact lens case.

Ok but he took his advice and is trying to bite himself out of those ropes. 🤣

Oh hello mic pack holder. But I honestly do appreciate the actors' commitment to physicality. In this case squirming around on the bed. 

They are starting to get sexy together and I like it. I really appreciate the slow development of their chemistry actually. Immediate BAM! is fun,  but this fits better for them and their story and is nicely nuanced. 

Ooh I love the recall to the first day with him now unthinkingly jumping this same wall. 

Dudes. You or someone else should have made a plan for how to protest this lecture. It doesn't even need to have been a good one. But there was this whole street of organizers? And apparently Tawi is the Jeff Bezos of this version of Thailand? So someone would have tried to organize a protest, right? Thai organizing can't be that different, even with a different culture around respect? Or maybe it is???

Like I get this shows Sean's passion and anger but...

Oh forgot their last interaction was Sean leaving White-as-Black tied up. 

This really is Only One Bed: The Series. How many different places can she conspire to have them sleep together. 

Episode 9

Sex scene tender sweet and hot. Consent communication can be very sexy omg. 

This feels very different from any BL sex scene I've seen yet. More real somehow? Why? The intimacy of the tent? The way the are communicating? Maybe because White's anxiety is not about sex but about being intimate while lying about who he is. The hands! The ear bite! Maybe because I haven't seen a bl sex scene get that montage/time lapse editing yet. It was a wonderful way to make it feel like they weren't just fading to black while still not showing a lot. (Which I guess why it's commonly used technique in other film industries lol.)

Did Black wake up because his twin was fucking? I'm not even sure what to think about that. And were the tears his own or transference from White?

That heartbeat convo and the little kiss. It felt so genuinely post coital. 

They seem to be transforming from enemies into softest boyfriends ever. Which I think I'm good with.

It felt rushed in a way but then also it didn't. Like there was all this under the surface that suddenly was ready to emerge. 

I love how they got a scene with the gayest bridge but it was actually about the decaying pier. Perfect. Although I'm disproportionately annoyed by the impossible leaps. 

I'm anxious about this cop boyfriend thing. Which side of the storytelling will win out, bl's hea or activism's acab? Why was he there to rescue Yok?

Ok. Yok may be falling for the dude but at least he's being smart about not revealing their work. 

Return sad poignet (probably I meant poignant? I don’t know what I was trying to say though.) amazing acting Gun. The grief of your long lost dead brother staying closed off to you ...

De transformation. Give me my phone. (I have no idea what this comment was supposed to mean.)

Called it! about shady Todd. 

And that was all the notes I took. After episode 9 I think I was too overwhelmed by the show and my thoughts about it to write down my reactions.

[imthebadguyyy]

Loved your first fic of Lewis!💛

Can you make one where Lewis Hamilton and Y/N have a fight and have been living separately and then Lewis comes to meet Y/N one evening and makes an excuse that his toothbrush is with Y/N? And then Lewis confronts Y/N that he knows Y/N still love him but won't admit?

..

* I know this is a very specific prompt. Bare with me. I just wanted more Angst/ Fluff with Longing for each other and Deep feelings and keep it Non-explicit. *

A/N - I'm so glad you liked the fic 😊

We're Meant To Be

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (female)

Fandom - F1

Summary - After a messy fight, you don't know where your relationship stands. But when love is that strong, an argument can't stand in the way.

Warnings - Angst, fighting, swearing

Angered shouts. Tears of frustration. White noise. Desperate pleads. And then silence. That's what your neighbours would describe if they were asked to describe what they had heard from your house. An argument that seemed to have started over nothing, had blown up into a full scale fight. When had it become this bad? Only yesterday, you two had had a date night at home, with movies and wine. Everything was perfect. But then, suddenly everything seemed to go down a downward spiral.

Your relationship with your boyfriend had always been calm, it had been the type of love where you just loved each other with all your hearts, where fights were an incredibly rare appearance. You were both working, and he was away at races most of the time, so usually, you didn't waste time fighting, something that was an unnecessary waste of time in your opinion. But then, something had just switched for a second. It was after the race in Baku, and it hadn't gone well. Lewis had been heartbroken, after coming P15, and had heavily berated himself for it. To make him feel better, you had taken a couple of days off work. to just be with him and give him company to feel better.

It had been on the third day of you spending time with him that he had made an offhand comment that had struck a nerve with you. "I wish you could be there at race weekends more often. It's like you don't care enough about the races" The comment had pissed you off, to put it lightly. "What do you mean, I don't care about the races? I watch all of them Lewis, I'm always supporting you" you had practically seethed at him. "Don't get all huffy, darling, all I'm saying is that the other girlfriends and wives come quite often, but you only come to like three races a year" he had said, already regretting his words. "Maybe that's because I have a job?! I work for my living, and I love my job. I don't have time to fly around the world to accompany you to your races, and its damn hard to get leave off of work anyway, I was lucky to even get a week off of work, and you want me to be there every weekend? It's not possible for a working person, Lewis" you had said, anger bubbling in your voice, pulling away from him to sit up straight. "I know, I just meant-" "No, I know what you meant. I'm sorry I can't always be there, and don't you think I feel bad when I can't be there for you ?" "I know you do, I shouldn't have brought this up. But can you come for the next race?" He had asked, not looking at your eyes, regretting the answer. "I... can't. I have a really big meeting coming up and-" "And you can't come I get it"

And he had just left. You had felt your heart shatter, hating yourself for being so harsh with him. But it was true, you were a very hardworking person, and you had worked damn hard to get to where you were, successful at your job, one of the best in your field. It took years of hard work and perseverance and you were proud of it. But a part of you also knew that Lewis didn't deserve any of the crap you had given him, and you also knew that he was right, the other guys had their partners to support them during various race weekends, and you only showed up to one or two of them. He was well in his rights to tell you that. And you hated how it had ended.

You all alone, in your house, in a cold and empty bed, in a quiet house with silence that was much, much more deafening than words ever could be. It was heartbreaking, to see a future you had dreamed of just shattering in front of your eyes, dreams of having a family of your own with him fluttering away like wisps of smoke, the burning flames leaving only a heartbroken mess of a human being behind. Was that what it felt like? To be burned and left to turn to ashes, when a person that knew exactly how to ignite your flame just left you to burn away? To have someone who could ignite your all consuming passion, and turn you to putty in his hands, who could mould you back into shape, leave you to melt into a liquid through his fingers to just lay on the ground, a sad, broken, person.

And here you were, lying on your bed, the sheets that had warmed the both of you on cold nights, or been home to your pleasure laced activities now offering only some of the warmth it used to, cold and unforgiving, as you turned your pillow for the fifteenth time, neither side cool anymore. Even the pillow didn't want to forgive you, the sweat settling in on your neck again, beads of sweat running down your forehead again. The pulled curtains shielded you from the over bright sunshine, your damp hair sticking to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes, red rimmed and tired, shut to protect them from the faint light in the room, the tiredness not permitting you to even open them to look in the dim light of your room.

Somewhere near you, your phone buzzed again, for what felt like the hundredth time in three days. It had been three days, three long, painful days since you and Lewis had fought and not seen each other, and those 72 hours had ripped a part of your soul out. You had spent those three days in bed, your leave days still saving you from getting out of bed and dragging your body to office. Was your relationship over? Were you never going to meet the love of your life, the man you were destined to be with again? Sighing, you rolled over, pushing the damp strands of hair away from your face. Using strength you didn't know you had, you pulled yourself up, feeling your head spin.

Slowly, you made yourself walk into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread and popping it into the toaster. Then you splashed some water on your tired face, shuffling over to the bathroom to brush your teeth. After finishing your toast, you peeled off the sweaty shirt you had pulled on when he had left, realising with a pang that it was Lewis's nightshirt you were wearing, a purple one he loved. Dropping it into the laundry basket, you turned on the shower, stepping under the warm shower. The warm spray untangled the knots in your matted hair, as you soaped your body and hair, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as memories of your showers together with Lewis came flooding back, as heartbroken sobs wracked your form again.

An hour after the not so great shower, you found yourself in another shirt belonging to Lewis, the bed in fresh sheets and covers, your pillow finally cool on both sides. You were clean and refreshed, albeit heartbroken, waiting on your takeout Chinese food and ice cream. Just as you lay there, scrolling through your Netflix account to watch some episode of FRIENDS to help you keep your spirits up, the doorbell rang. The thought of flavourful Chinese food and ice cream was enough to lure you out of your bed again, bare feet padding across the wooden floor to go to the door. You grabbed your wallet, opening the door, to find not your dinner, but Lewis, at the door, in one of your favourite sweatshirts on him. Did the clothes make you feel better? No. In fact, it just shattered your heart further.

"What are you doing here?" was the predictable line that left your lips. "I um, I left my toothbrush at your place. Can I have it back?"

"I beg your pardon? You left your toothbrush? You came back for a toothbrush, but not for me? Is that all I mean to you?!" you said, anger and a hint of sadness creeping into your tone. "You do mean a lot to me" he replied in a sigh. "Look, I didn't actually leave my toothbrush. That was a lie, and wow, I'm just realising how stupid that sounded, I'm sorry" His words were met with silence. The sadness in your eyes said it all. You were upset. Of course you were. "I don't have any toothbrushes except mine, so please leave" Before you could shut the door in his face, he pushed it back open, stepping into the house on his own.

"No do not come in here, please just get out!"

"No" was his frustrating reply. "What do you mean no? I said get out of my house!" "Not until we stop fighting and talk about what the hell happened!" Lewis yelled back, matching your tone. "Why the hell do you care?!" "Because I still love you damn it, I always have, and this stupid fight cannot, and should not break us apart!"

Your burst into tears. Sliding down against the wall, you buried your face in your hands, the sweatshirt arms covering your face as you sobbed. In an instant, Lewis was walking across to you, strong muscled arms wrapping around your shaking frame. "I'm sorry" you managed to blubber out, "I thought it over, and I don't go to support as often as I feel I should, and I'm sorry"

"No my darling, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that to you. You work so hard baby, and I'm so proud of you. And I know that you try to come whenever you can, and I love you so much for that. I'm sorry, and I never shouldv'e asked you to prioritize my passion over yours" rubbing your shoulders softly, he let his chin rest on top of yours. Sniffling, you let your head rest on his shoulder. The soft hiccups that left your lips broke his heart even further, something he hadn't thought possible.

The last 3 days had been pure hell for him. He had missed you, God, he had missed you. He had missed having you in his bed in the morning, tracing patterns on your bare skin. He had missed leaving kisses on your soft cheeks and hands and on your cute nose, missed smiling against your skin as you giggled. He had missed you playing with Roscoe, the doggo following the both of you around the house. Even Roscoe had missed you, sniffing around the house for your familiar smell, cocking his ears up and looking at his dad questioningly.

He had missed your perfume, the scent filling his senses, intoxicating him in the best way possible. He missed you curling up to him, playing with his hair or tracing his tattoos, leaving little kisses around the compass tattoo, tracing his 'Still I Rise' tattoo, missing the goosebumps that would rise on his skin when you traced Michelangelo's Pieta on his skin, and kissed the family and faith tattoos on his sternum. He missed you everywhere, and it had taken three days for him to realize that your presence grounded him. Your presence was something he needed, not to survive, he had done that before, he needed you for his happiness.

And having you in his arms, crying over what he had said? It shattered his heart. And he wanted to just fix everything, to bring everything back to normal. Stroking your hair softly, he kept his lips pressed to your ear, whispering soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry baby's" and "I'm here for you's" into your ear, feeling his heart lighten ever so softly when your sniffles decreased and your grip on yourself relaxed.

Moving up to meet his eyes, you moved so you were at eye level with him. "So we're both idiots who are sorry?" You murmured, running your hand up to his collarbone. With a soft laugh, he nodded taking your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over yours. "Fighting sucks" he mumbled pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It really does" your replied, moving so you were straddling his waist. "Let's never do that again, and let's just make a schedule. We can figure out when you can come and visit me, and I'll just deal with the fact that my ethereal girlfriend won't grace the race tracks every race weekend-" "It all sounds lovely but all I want right now is your lips on mine" you interrupted, bringing a smirk to his lips.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours, hand moving to maneuver your head closer to his, your hands moving up to cup his cheek, as your traced his jawline, his thumb running over your waist. Breaking apart softly, he let his forehead rest on yours. "I love you" he whispered softly. "I love you too" you mumbled back. Before he could lean back in, the doorbell rang again.

"Damn it. That's my chinese food and ice cream" you sighed, smiling when he laughed. "Was it that bad?" He asked, letting you get up to open the door. "Like you wouldn't believe it"

After getting the food and paying for it, you set two plates on the table and put enough on your plates. "You know what the worst part was about fighting?" "What was?" "Not waking up to you tracing my tattoos" "Aww that's what you missed?" You giggled, walking up to kiss the tattoos on his hands. "I really did. You're cute and adorable and you're all mine. That's why I don't wanna fight. Let's keep it that way" "I love you so much" "I love you too"

***

A/N - I'm so, so sorry I took so long to write this, I really suck at angst, and I hope this is what you wanted, the last thing I want to do is give you subpar work 😭😭

Anyways, have a great day 💙