#may be more to come when my brains less fried | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mandalhoerian · 3 months ago

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Repost because tumblr's tags were broken yesterday and it ate my post up 😞 Spoilers and translation notes for Rafayel's intertidal zone & analysis because it kinda floored me, I was just as a blank page as he was throughout this. I had to watch it like 5 times to understand what the story was saying and dig into chinese and japanese versions of this to piece together what was really happening. It may be my idiot brain not getting it and maybe it was like the easiest thing to understand for you but. Yeah. I may be just dumb LMFAO AND!!!! There's also a theory of mine into how Rafayel is actually able to read mc's mind/wishes through their lemurian bond, so stay tuned for that I guess

EDIT: correcting some transcriptions of chinese characters and the translations. sorry about that! google couldn't transcribe it correctly. for clarity's sake i will also include original screenshots. please tell me if anything is wrong!

EDIT 2: Check out part 2 to this as well for stuff I missed!

EDIT 3: An Abysswalker connection I found

EDIT 4: Debunking the myths of non-consent & Rafayel hurting MC in the spicy scene

So Rafayel’s whole deal in this memory, I believe, is dependency. Like, too much intensity, too much need, too much fear -- about scaring her off, about what he sees himself possibly becoming in the future, overall just being too reliant on mc and getting scared by it.

Let's begin with this massive fear of being a taker, not just in the “I’m stealing someone’s fries” way, but in this existential, soul-deep kind of way where he’s terrified of turning everything he loves into something he exploits out of demand for his art. And yeah, it’s sad when you first hear him say it, but it’s also really interesting when you look at how this all ties into his relationship with MC and his inspiration source drying up because of her.

Before Rafayel became an artist, he looked at the world in this super pure, wholesome way. Sceneries and nature were just there, things to admire and feel awe over without needing to do anything about it. Like, imagine standing at the edge of a desert, looking at a sea that’s drying up. Sure, it’s tragic, but it’s also kind of beautiful in a raw, heartbreaking way. That’s how Rafayel saw things, he could appreciate them without feeling like he had to do anything.

But then Rafayel started creating, and suddenly, sceneries weren’t just sceneries anymore. They became inspiration. He wasn’t just admiring beauty, he was extracting something from it, its meaning, its pain, its soul, to turn into art for other people. And that made him feel all kinds of icky, because now he wasn’t just looking at the drying sea. He was taking from it. Just as he's using his people's pain in his art as well, that's also a thing.

Now let’s talk about MC. Rafayel loves her like he used to love those sceneries,,, in this pure, untainted way. There's a parallel here. But here’s the kicker, he’s not the same guy who can just admire something and leave it untouched anymore.

And suddenly, this is no longer only about losing inspiration for him.

This happens after he and MC get together, and it’s like all the pain and anguish that used to fuel his creativity just.. ... dries up. He can’t find that spark anymore because now his life is surrounded by love instead of suffering. In fact, his inspiration starts coming from her and it's starting to clash with how he makes art. In the phone call, he seeks her out and says he needs her so bad and she only needs to talk to help him out. This is the first wink wink nod nod of the story.

So what does Rafayel do? He goes on this big, dramatic trip to "find inspiration" (or at least his muse), but it’s not just about his art. He’s not just looking for inspiration, he’s trying to figure out how to be less dependent on her and becoming increasingly more restless over this. The temparature and physical discomfort is making things worse, he's anxiously overthinking, and imagine trying to fight this and the longest art block as of late off when all you want to do is indulge in this special person and be comforted like a lap cat all day every day.

He understands that if he lets himself indulge without restraint, one day his love for mc will turn into pure need. He’ll become more and more greedy, and he doesn’t want that and is afraid of being abandoned because of that growing neediness and dependency.

This is in relation to his art, because as @/dat-silvers-girl put in the comments, he's struggling with "the genuine fear of not being able to enjoy anything in life because all you're thinking about how to use it (as an artist)" . what if he starts doing this to her? to their love and relationship? take from her, and become someone who only takes in every area of life -- like someone who only exploits things by extracting what he feels about them to use it for his art. he's afraid of that, he doesn't like that and possibly doesn't like himself who does it. so why should she? she would leave him for sure, in his head, that's a solid reason to.

The first time around he brings up his anxiety about MC leaving him out of the inner realization of his dependency, the possibility of just what he can become, and fear of abandonment. she effortlessly soothes his worries. It's heavily implied they did it afterwards and after hearing "her life has already been consumed by him" he tweaked out a little bit and his "obsession" seeped through.

After it fades to black, he says ほら…��僕もとっくに……君に侵食されてしまっているんだ…… which means "See... I've already been completely consumed by you too" in Japanese instead of the life being made a chaotic mess localization. While I think MC's line was jokey and lighthearted, I don't think this man is joking at all. Rafayel didn't say his life was consumed by her as well, he said HE was consumed. Ouh.

This took the edge off from him for a while but they hadn't gotten to the root of the problem yet, so he was back to square one after the memorial hall, because remember, he's trying to find inspiration as an act of making this dependency of his better. Pain and suffering are all around him here, which his inspiration feeds off of. The dried up ocean he could hear weakening, the skeleton of the whale, the burden of his people and homeland more prominent than before. And what does MC do? Tear through the perspective of pain and introduce a hopeful alternative, "Isn't it a surprise to see an ocean in the middle of the desert?"

This is a place that gave Rafayel the height of helplessness and suffering when he visited by himself before despite momentarily being hopeful after the locals told him such a place existed. But now, she was there to comfort him through his loneliness and pain, hug him, and give him hope yet again. He brings up how he wanted to come here with the most important person to him when he was still hopeful about it before consumed by the pain of it all, and that wish has been granted. That moment has to be so powerful for Rafayel. Literally light at the end of the tunnel.

It had me reeling that he just sat in the car after all that, staring at her for god knows how long until she woke up. He was probably overthinking again, but my interpretation that it was heavily emotional for him (it could have meant so little for MC but the world for him, she doesn't even know) and he wanted to be in that moment with her, just feel and look without restraint. Indulge a little. (I can just imagine him going just a little bit more, I'll go after she wakes up.) And like. His eyes are shining in the darkness is the description here. Perhaps he was feeling so much here. So much love. So much happiness. And he's about to go in for a kiss (heavy breathing and everything) after that, but holds himself back and actively has to pry himself away. He's feeling the neediness again.

That’s why he makes an effort to actively wean himself off and says he'll be okay on his own. What he says to her after MC is like "spoiling him" being all "hey you're sick maybe don't go? or let's go together?" (which is NOT helping Rafayel at all) is even more meaningful in Japanese and I didn't know why they left out this context, but the rearranged line would be "Do you want me to become a sea creature beached on the sand after the sea recedes, unable to breathe on my own ever again?"

Yeah. YEAH. This is about dependency. (He's saying don't coddle me I'll literally become that wolf tearing his shirt meme 😭)

So of course his stubbornness and anxiety force him to do things without MC and distance himself, he can do it. He’s determined to prove to himself that he can endure it on his own.

I also feel like part of the reason he insisted on going to the salon alone is that he’s still worried mc might come to dislike the version of him who's someone he's so sure she will leave, who isn't perfect and he hides behind the persona he's put up just for her. If he truly becomes addicted to her and shows her everything/his true self, and she ends up leaving him, it would completely break him. He's trying to be like "im so normal about her haha" but he's so not normal about her at all. He's literally obsessed I feel like, and perhaps this is him fighting it knowing it's not healthy.

and OOOH about why he ends up coming back from the salon all hot and bothered.

I have strong context that she flicked the bean in there after he left her high and dry in the car ("hot water washes away the stickiness from my body and his stifled breaths still echo in my ears, enveloping me along with the steam in the bathroom. The warmth from his fingertips lingers in the places where he touched me..." is the english. however, in chinese, it goes "熱水洗去身上的黏膩，壓抑的喘息迴盪在我耳畔，和浴室裡氤氳的水氣一起包裹著我." stating "the suppressed breathing" -- which doesn't have any possessive adjectives when I translated it on google and later explicitly asked chatgpt if it had any his/my adjectives involved, just to be sure. it said no but i'd like it if a real chinese speaking person could give their input on this !!! PLEASE DONT LEAVE ME WITH CHATGPT

so um. if the context is in fact the case that he heard her masturbating to him, the intensity with which he attacked her would be normal, I think 😭

I have belief that MC unconsciously shatters his "training himself to be without her" determination through their bond. She just keeps thinking about him the entire time. about him reading her thoughts, though. we still don't know all about the lemurian bond they share. I’d say it grants him some sort of mind/heart reading ability or connects their minds together (when she was thinking about whether she should hug him, he answered “yes”).

At the salon, I imagine Rafayel was already thinking about her like crazy. Then he realized, or perhaps, "heard" she was still worrying about him and thinking of him (as much he thought about her) and decided to go back. Rafayel probably felt that suppressing himself was only making her more anxious and unsettled. She's thinking all about him, unconsciously calling to him to come to her, she didn't want to let him go at all, wanted to go with him, etc...

but even if it was his own decision and no mind reading was involved... uh. If you ask me. He did quite literally hear her after coming back. That's also something that might make him think she wants him as much as he wants her, which made his self-restraint utterly meaningless from the start.

Disregarding this theory of mine proven wrong until a Chinese speaker helps me out here, MC returned to Rafayel's room. A translation omission happened here from what I saw. There are no possessive adjectives in the Chinese text about the room she returns to, and the Japanese one states she returned to the guest room (doesn't specify which one. She was also able to enter Rafayel's room without needing to knock before.)

so uh. she went into rafayel's room y'all. the line "this is my room, you're the one who walked in here" MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE. (SO LIKE. NOT ONLY DID SHE GO INTO HIS ROOM, SHE FLICKED THE BEAN THERE AND HE POSSIBLY HEARD IT. SHE'S MORE OF A FREAK THAN HE IS, I UNDERSTAND WHY HE LET GO AFTER THAT LMFAO)

I don't put it past him to get worked up after he finds her in his room post-bath even without my theory lmfao (idk why they put her in a dress when she should be in a bathrobe or something 😭)

His conclusion at the end of this memory that "he finds inspiration in pain and the art of creation is a part of his life. mc made him realize love and art are so alike. even if they don't complete him but burn him instead he wants them (love and art) with every fiber of his being" and MC says she doesn't like that, rightfully so.

So like. There's SO MUCH to unpack in here.

When Rafayel says he finds inspiration in pain and that creation is a part of his life, he’s admitting something raw and essential about himself: pain isn’t just a byproduct of his art, it’s intrinsic to it. For Rafayel, pain and art are intertwined in a way that’s almost inseparable. It’s like his muse isn’t just beauty, but beauty that hurts.

But then he takes this further by connecting art to love. He’s realized that both art and love demand the same from him: vulnerability, passion, and sometimes suffering. They don’t necessarily complete him (he’s not romanticizing them as salvation), but they burn him, wear him down, consume him (coincidentally, this is something he said to MC in the JP dub of this memory, that she consumes him), but also give him life. And for Rafayel, that’s the crux, even if they burn him, he wants them with every fiber of his being.

This is such a Rafayel thing to say. It’s dramatic, it’s tortured, but it’s also deeply SUBTLE. He doesn't spell all of these out, mind you, I got a headache trying to understand him. Or I'm just slow, I don't know. It shows how much he values creation and connection, even if they come at a cost.

MC, on the other hand, challenges this perspective. When she says she doesn’t like that he views love and art as things that burn him, she’s pushing back against the idea that suffering is a necessary part of creation, or love. MC doesn’t want Rafayel to see their relationship as something that requires him to hurt. She’s telling him, “You don’t have to destroy yourself to love me.”

When MC says, “You’ll never have to burn for me,” she’s giving Rafayel an alternative to his destructive mindset. She’s saying that love doesn’t have to hurt, that their relationship can exist without him sacrificing himself on the altar of passion. It’s a refusal to let Rafayel romanticize pain as the price of love.

And I love that Rafayel goes, "Will you help me look for other parts in life outside of pain?" in response. This is NOT about art or inspiration anymore, and the way the dialogue is written is just AUGH. Again I had to rewatch this over and over again for the nuances and subtext.

I love MC's response, she knew exactly what to say. “I’ll always be the one who walks along the shore with you. Of course, diving into the sea bed is fine too. If it can snow in the desert, there will be a day when the ocean returns.”

MC’s response is layered with metaphors, but at its core, it’s about unwavering support and hope::

Walking along the shore: This represents safety and companionship. MC is saying she’ll be with Rafayel in the calm, in the moments where they’re just observing life without diving into its depths. She’ll be his steady presence, his grounding force.

Diving into the sea bed: This is an acknowledgment that life and love sometimes require going deeper and they may go through hardships, into the unknown, the murky, the challenging. MC isn’t afraid of this, she’s willing to go there with him too.

Snow in the desert and the ocean’s return: This is a symbol of hope and transformation beyond being a nod to The Sea of Golden Sand. Snow in the desert seems impossible, just like the idea of Rafayel finding inspiration outside of pain might feel impossible to him. But MC believes in the extraordinary, in change, and in the possibility that beauty and creation can exist outside of suffering.

Her words are a promise: she’s willing to stand by him, to face the unknown together, and to hold onto the belief that a new way of seeing the world is possible.

And Rafayel LOWKEY PROPOSES IN RETURN.

By saying “let’s watch the sea together,” he’s accepting MC’s offer of companionship and hope in the long run. He’s recognizing that life doesn’t have to be about diving into the depths alone, it can be about sharing the experience with someone else, even if it’s just standing on the shore and watching.

“Every sea”: This phrase is key. Rafayel isn’t just committing to one kind of life or one kind of inspiration, he’s opening himself up to all possibilities. Watching every sea means embracing all facets of life, whether they’re calm or turbulent, painful or beautiful. It’s a marriage proposal declaration that he’s ready to explore the world beyond pain, with MC by his side.

So. I love that his inspiration returns after his freak is accepted by MC because he literally feels the acceptance through the bond.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. This memory DRAINED me. They were just supposed to bang what the fuck happened. Why did I have to go treasure hunting to find what was going on in this card. anyway...

#love and deepspace #rafayel #lads #lads rafayel #rafayel lads #l&ds #l&ds rafayel #qi yu #rafayel qi #fandom: lads

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themareverine · 5 months ago

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— wild man

Logan Howlett x fem!OC

summary: Blizzards and pane glass windows—typical for a Thursday night at Laughlin City's favorite haunt. Until the Wolverine walks in, and hell hath no fury like a man ravaged by jealousy.

warnings: language, possessive behavior, angst, jealousy, implied sexual content, established relationship from my Mare & the Wolverine series.

a/n: i don't know what this is, really. went to write a different oneshot and it turned into this. guess my brain needed some jealous Logan. reposted from my deactivated account.

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

Inky midnights glare through the windows of Laughlin’s oldest haunt as the season’s thick, wet snow falls in an almost sideways blanket. The bar is flatlined, almost asystole. Heavy bass, thanks to Huey Lewis and the News, thunks from the stereo system like a jackhammer against her skull, trying to fill space that bodies aren’t.

Stale cigarettes and fried food in the air mingled with the highschool smell of sweat and testosterone, which may as well have been painted to the walls they were so familiar. Sticky floor, slick bartop, chipped tile in the bathroom—common ghosts for nearly eleven thirty on a Thursday night.

“Really comin’ down, ain’t it?”

It’s more the sudden spike of cold overflow from the tap that jars Mare McAffery from attempting to glance around her reflection from the pane glass window. Surprised, she startles, slapping at the tap’s toggle before her fingers curl around the chilled glass. Slick with foam as it sloshes over the rim carelessly to the mix of drinks that have already found their fate on the floor at her feet. It isn’t her night. The lack of business has her brain running, her thoughts anywhere but here on a Thursday night among the snow, cigarette smoke, and canisters of beer she needs to change in back.

She’d rather be home. Bundled in blankets, wool socks. Watching the kick of fireplace flames from the safe brace of Logan—just Logan. All of Logan. His arms, that absolutely breathtaking chest that ripples with life and hard muscle and heat. Feeling the rise and fall of his every breath, how the fresh wash of her hair tangoes with his heady scent of whiskey and cigar, wood and snow.

Feeling the warmth of his feet toying with hers under blankets as they stretch out towards flame, listening to the rich way he chuckles every time his nose brushes against the back of her ear. How his rough fingers pull through her cropped curls, teasingly carding as he dares to whisper about his day against the curve of her ear—-

She jumps when the edge of the bar comes up a little too quickly against her hip. Her heart shellshocks against her ribs like a violent engine. Feeling flushed, she bites the inside of her cheek. Lathes her tongue against the front of her bottom teeth. Praying to God the low light hides the color on her face seems fruitless, but it's there.

Reaching for a bar napkin, her smile is slow as she slides the beer in front of Laughlin’s foremost gossip, affectionately christened Flappin’ Jim by the town’s population. No less than four decades her senior, stringy silver hair peeks out from beneath a nearly-threadbare Carhartt beanie, stained with what could only be assumed was engine oil. Jim has owned the zip code’s only machine shop longer than she’s been alive.

She shrugs a shoulder when he mentions the snow a second time. “When isn’t it snowing up here?” The squared-off toe of her western boots scuff the floor cooler behind the bar as she reaches for Jim’s ever-requested cocktail straw, plopping it in the dark amber of his lager before his parted lips could continue, “I’ve seen my fair share of the white stuff—but never like this. You know how they say everything is bigger in Texas?” Jim chuckles, nodding as his tongue seeks out the straw, his gaze never leaving her, “Well, I swear to God, everything is colder and thicker in Laughlin.”

His laugh comes from his chest, phlegm from forty years of smoking Player’s. “Forget it’s your first snow with us, poor thing,” Jim waves a hand between the two of them, brows bobbing suggestively as his grin widens enough to reveal half-rotten mid-to-back teeth, “iffin’ you’re thinkin’ you need a ride home, darlin’, ol’ Jim’s got room for two on the old snowmobile—”

Her brain nearly melts at the absolute atrocity of a mental picture that statement provides. She could think of not a single thing worse than going to the door with Flappin’ Jim, much less riding an hour west on a snowmobile in little more than jean’s and a leather jacket. Laughlin’s poster child for bad decisions and alcoholism. Perfect.

Informing him of her lack of proper gear was the kind out. “Thanks for the offer, though, Jim,” her nose scrunches a little as she works at the try-a-hundred-times-a-day-but-still-nothing stain practically etched into the oak grains of the bartop, “Logan’s coming to get me, he knew the snow would be bad. Dropped me off this morning before work.” It’s nonchalant—surely women were dropped off and picked up by their boyfriend’s during bad snow in Laughlin.

Never mind working a double, Jim’s brows popped tall as if it were an entirely new concept straight out of a Stephen King skincrawler. “Wild Man’s comin’ all the way down the mountain in this shitstorm?”

His thumb goes over his shoulder, despite evidence of his claim hanging in the window to his three o’clock left. He whistles over his shoulder for his buddy, Kenneth, to listen up.

Kenneth’s head raises with interest, like a meerkat rising from his hole. “Lord’a mighty, Kenny boy—you was right, mus’ be better than’w thought!”

More vapid laughter has Jim, and now Kenneth, hacking up a lung from their respective seats.

Whatever population’s in the bar—eight souls —turns to look at her, snickering and the twist of their upturned lips all but nailing her to the back wall. Like looking from the outside in. May as well have all been pointing fingers at her—and, unsure whether her gaze should fall to Jim or past him to Kenneth, her raised brows opted to consider the older man sweeping his hat off his head.

Unwashed hair nearly glistening with what she can only assume is grease and oil, a thought that makes her stomach rise up to kiss the base of her ribs. His laughter turns raucous as his eyes skim over her, hazed.

Swallowing a splash of stomach acid, her brow furrows hard behind the bridge of her glasses.

“Pardon?”

Wringing the bar rag through her hands, Mare ultimately realizes how this makes her look. Tosses it aside. Stands a little taller, wants to look down her nose at Jim, but realizes she’s shorter than he is, perched on a stool. More wind howls, biting at the bricks, flecks of snow tick tick ticking against the pane glass windows outside in the dark. Working a double has never felt so dehumanizing—she could melt into the floor right now. Whether from the tired headache blooming behind her eyes or the full attention from the bar, she’s not sure.

A sharp smack! of Jim’s hand against the bartop makes her jump. “Oh come on, honeybunch,” the low accent matches every step that Kenneth, now, manages as he stumbles over to lean a plump hip against the bar. “E’ryone knows no mountain man like Logan Howlett comes off the mountain for just anythin’—‘less he’s gettin’ head,” Eyes skate her over her, visually-stimulated from top to bottom, ultimately parking at the cut of her tank top as he sloshes back the rest of his bottled MGM, “just how it works, sugartits.”

His eyes remain welded to her chest, but her jaw has long since lost its hinge. Any second now it would start creaking like a rusty gate, bone raking against bone. Opening and closing, like a fish choking on air. Slack and openmouthed, she blinks through the little flecks of dirt on the lens of her glasses, brain short circuiting to assimilate just how absolutely crude of a statement has just landed between her eyes like a stone to Goliath.

Words don’t find her for a full handful of minutes before Jim and Kenneth’s attention are drawn away. Onto other conversation, this time bear hunting stories and the back-and-forth of rifles. Throat burning, like the inferno sands of Moab. Every sticky string of saliva moisture in her mouth is tapped dry, she attempts to raise spit on her tongue, to swallow. Virginal heat chases up her neck like a predator, sinking teeth into her confidence. Fans across her decolletage and collarbones.

Queasy, embarrassment spins a weave down her spine and through her guts like a snake. Reminds her that wolves of the world so often hunt the lines of the innocent perimeters she’d fought hard to preserve—did everyone in town think she was sleeping with Logan? Like a broken record it spins, wobbling on the needle, screeching and clawing deep into the lines of her psyche.

Years as a preacher’s daughter had provided her a certain level of naivete, certainly—-never ignorance. Wasn’t dull to the world beyond innocence, outside the lines of the pure and spotless idea of Christ and His church. She knew the world was spiraling, hell and brimstone around every corner. All parlor tricks and open gates, brazen. Like a painted woman in scarlets and pearls—or a drunk on a barstool at quarter-too.

Mare hadn’t expected this level of forward. This, gall. Audacity. Snapping teeth of a big junkyard dog trying to look tough and scare her into shock—that’s what this was. Provocative, seeking a response. Gasoline on a snapping fire. Enough to make a harlot blush, and Jim knew it—it’s in the way he guzzles hops like his veins crave it, eyes following her even through the bottom of his glass.

He’d blurted what she’d suspected everyone in town to think, and for half of a breath, she wasn’t sure how to feel. Flushed and embarrassed, a given.

Defiance lands like an airliner in her blood. Surprising, but not wholly unwarranted. Jaw setting with force enough to shatter the world, the heel of her boot grinds into the sticky floor as she turns to busy herself with empties. Glass cries out as she stacks them in the crook of her arm, fingers grabbing for whatever she can manage to stalk back to the kitchen.

Her heart pistons between her ribs like it’s been dropped into an Indy car, eyes flitting to and fro behind the bar. Anger. There's lots and lots of anger.

For handfuls of seconds she scours for a response. Something smart, smarmy—will fly in the face of what everyone in this town had been thinking about her since her boots had hit the province.

What Jim has actually implied—it burns. Like hot coals. For months she’d been walking the flames of the rumors; innocent little preacher’s daughter from the States.

“Y’even know how to spell ‘fuck’, darlin’?”

Far too busy brushing her dirty hands on the back of her jeans, Mare doesn’t even hear the squeak of Jim’s barstool swivel, “Well, I’ll be damned—if it isn’t the man of the mountain. How goes it, Logan?”

More snickering, and she about-faces, all-soldier as relief hitches itself like a wagon team to one of her ribs.

Jim’s brows bounce over her direction, his look provocative enough to make her want to vomit right there on the floor.

Continuing his thought, he scoots his empty to her with his knuckles, ��Come to fetch our pretty little Miss Minnesota here, eh, boy?” Another wet cough grates across her nerves like nails to blackboard, “Looks like you were right, babygirl—s’told us you’d be makin’ your way in, Logan. Didn’t quite believe ‘er, but wonders never cease I reckon.” His nose scrunches as she passes him another pint glass, “Was about to keep little girlie here all to m’self.”

The line of her jaw twitches with how tight she’s clenching her teeth together, and it takes herculean will not to shoot off at the mouth—a trait she’s less than proud of. Thanks, Dad.

And it’s laughable how Jim is so quick to assume age, Logan’s raised brow in response shows it. At nearly 200 years old, he’s beyond surprise. Maybe, nearly. Closer than any part of her would like to admit, though nobody would know it—he doesn’t look a day over thirty-five.

A little tick of contained smile at the corner of his mouth is enough to make her forget her name. His dark eyes, calculating and deep, hold her gaze a few heartbeats. Logan reads her like an open book, an interested investigator—always has. She breaks first. Looks away, wiping at the sweat bubbling up on her brow.

His sparkling, steady eyes flash with something she can’t identify before darting back to Jim. Logan’s hum of suspicion is warm. Low, too low. Medicinal honey, going straight to the center of her femininity like nothing could. Lord, if it didn’t set every bone in her body to gelatinous flame—she sucked in a breath that stabbed at the mesh of her lungs as he settled against the bar.

He leans against the corner of the bar like he owns it, and he may as well have—out of the way and almost bleeding into the shadows of invisibility, he rests an elbow to the worn wood. A hand reaches to brush the wet of the storm from the sheepswool of his coat. Kisses of snow melt from his beard, ebony hair almost as quickly as they’d entangled—she doesn’t miss the blush that cold has left on his nose.

“Is that right?” Leaning a bit heavier on his arm, his lips tip up in an amused little way that sets off fireworks in the depths of her womb, reminding her of organs long forgotten. “Good thing I’m a man of my word.” Toe-over-toe she slips to a stop across the bar from him, reaching for a half glass that’s almost too cold between her sweating palms.

Logan pivots to face her, eyeballing her with a cool smile. Her usually-bright greeting is quiet, “Please sit. You’re ordering a whiskey.” It’s a demand, not a request.

Anything to keep her hands busy, to keep her from noticing how Kenneth hasn’t stopped ogling her tits since he sat down next to Jim, deep in his drink and fully, entirely out of his mind.

“Just one?” Let no man say Logan Howlett isn’t keen. “Hi.” And just like that, he changes gears. Keeps her guessing, like always. Mysterious as the shadow, bright as the sun.

Elbow planted on the walnut bar, his brows bounce as his finger crooks. Come.

Resting her hands at either side of his glass, she leans across the wood slowly. Considering him through low lashes, her heart swells at the way his tongue fills the pocket of his lower lip, considering. Hungry, almost. Possessive.

He makes her forget Jim, and Kenneth, and anything resembling breathing in flatline seconds.

Logan’s eyes flick to her mouth, in a tantalizing, only–the-stuff-of-Hollywood way as her bottom lip curls in, a little sheepishly. Nose to nose, the bite of cigar smoke lingering about his beard is dizzying—a scent of fresh pine clings to his clothes. He smells of snow and man, just as he should.

“Hi.” Little more than a breath and he closes daylight between them, lips brushing hers in a soft and slow hello. Smiling into his kiss, she sinks back to her feet behind the bar. Fingers curl into the wood beneath her palms.

Changing gears, Mare reaches for a bag of clean bar rags and begins folding. “How was your day on the mountain?”

His finger traces the rim of his whiskey glass and he shrugs a shoulder. “Peachy,” he takes a drink. She keeps looking over to Jim and Kenneth, who haven't stopped looking, and takes notices.

Logan's glass finds the counter again but his hand doesn’t lift from it, content to linger in the droplets of sweat. Simple, cleancut. Like always.

Then, “What’s wrong.”

It isn’t a question—as her eyes cut up from her work to look at him, his are open and waiting. Seeking. Ever since she’d known him he was always watching, waiting; seeking something.

He’d said once that he’d been looking for her all his life—her innocence. Purity. And it was no different, right now. Just now, he hunted the demons creeping inside her head, sitting invisible on her shoulder instead of the crisp light she usually carried. Nothing about him belies the name he gave himself, the name he carries nestled beneath his shirt on adamantium dogtags and numbers.

The Wolverine—her Wolverine.

The sound of it, inward and out, snaps like a whip even months later. It suits him in such a way she’ll never fully describe, that poetry could never adjective. Thirty-two days of her calling Logan Howlett her own and it felt little more than a fairytale, her own Cinderella story lost to fantastical girlish dreams and giggles. A little over a month since he’d asked if she wanted to “go steady,” since she’d giggled at him like a child, “Nobody says that anymore, Lo,” and his “Wanna start?” had her—has her, to this very breath—unable to think straight.

She lies.

“Nothing.”

Too quick to be truthful, she turns to replace a bottle of Bulleit, its glass lightly clattering against its brethren on the mirrored shelf. Her eyes flutter closed and she releases an uneasy breath, disappointed in her response—Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer. Never had, since she’d known him.

A snippet of the night she’d met him races through her brain like a racehorse. “You should let me take a look.”

“I’m fine,” She’d been too quick—too defensive. Good lies always bare a little truth in between their teeth, but—she’d always been a bad liar. A sheep amongst wolves. Or, rather, wolverines.

“Bullshit. Needs stitches, we both know it—you’ve been workin’ the cage long enough to know the difference. Can’t let you go without a look.” His look had been unmovable, like the earth. Understanding of her plight, her hesitance for an almost-stranger to look her over. Gentile as she’d sank low on a barstool to accept a beer from him.

Gentlemanlike, walking her through the steps—careful with his hands. Hands that hold her world, hands that could cut through stone. Aware of her nerves, but unrelenting all the same.

His dark eyes narrow at her just so, his nose scrunching a little as he checks her reflection in the mirror. Much to her relief, Logan drops the subject. And she can see, in the reflection, he isn’t all too thrilled with dodging the question.

Knowing what topic of conversation would be on the ride up the mountain didn’t take rocket science, and she wilts inside knowing that honesty hadn’t been her first blush.

Two thunks on the bar have her checking her shoulder. Jim, signaling for another beer.

“‘Nother here, sugartits—make ‘er tall and strong, gotta get me home in one piece, y’know.” Jim’s smile is toothy, lopsided as he goes to the effort to lift his ass out of his seat. Passing by without so much as a nod, she swipes the glass from out in front of him.

And before Kenneth’s hand is at his shoulder, Jim’s palm smacks across her ass cheek. Hard enough that it thwacks! against the pockets of her jeans.

It catches her off guard. Nobody had ever so much as ogled her ass to her knowledge, much less actually touched it—the pint glass falls from her fingers. Hits the boards of the wooden floor, the thick glass shattering to big pieces, low before her feet as if she’s some goddess worth breaking over.

A little breathless, she stumbles over her square-toed boots. Fingers curl into the wood until her knuckles are white. At first there’s anger, then embarrassment that hits her like an overloaded tractor trailer. Fluster ruffles her feathers like a wet hen, and she considers the broken glass at her feet.

Audacity to laugh at the red bouncing to life on her cheeks has Jim roaring with laughter, unaware of what sin he’s just committed—her fingers are brushing the first big piece of jagged glass when she hears the swivel of a stool. The thunk of boots hitting the floor.

And before she can even begin to piece together what she suspects, she pops tall from behind the bar at the exact moment Jim’s laugh becomes a strangled wheeze.

Collar snugged up too tight against his throat, Jim gags for air, tongue poking between fat lips as spit collects in the corners of his mouth. Breathing steadily, the crest and fall of Logan’s chest is evidence that he is on the raw and bleeding edge of composure—if his dark glare could be considered composed.

Brow little more than a hard line, his gaze narrows in Jim’s face as he leans in, lips curling in an almost animalistic snarl.

“Logan,” Mare’s hiss is low, eyes skirting about the eight bodies that have almost backflipped up from their seats scattered about the bar, “Logan. Please—put ‘im down.” Murmurs have overtaken the air like quiet demons, they are no longer their own spectacle.

Jim manages what sounds like the-hell-d’ya-think-yer-doin’, which produces a low rumble from somewhere in the base of Logan’s chest. Dark eyes cut to her, sweeping over her frame as she discards the chunk of glass to the small sink to her right. Heart pounding unlike anything she’d ever felt in her chest, bludgeoning the soft flesh of her lungs, she sucks in a stale breath that does nothing to ease the fire that seems to throb beneath her skin—sweat has replaced any semblance of chill in the room. Oxygen may as well be a hope. Tank top sticking to the flesh between her shoulder blades, her tongue nervously darts over her front teeth, eyes to Logan’s ironclad grip at Jim’s shirt collar.

Logan doesn’t relent. Instead, she notices the cord of muscle in his arm tighten. Even beneath the shield of a coat, the mask of humanity —and she knows. His opposite hand lifts in Jim's face, and she's counting heartbeats before familiar adamantium splits skin wide open, bleeding with rage.

Adrenaline snaps into her blood like a whip, and she’s around the bar at his side in no more than a heartbeat or two. Hands at his arm. Fingers curling into the denim of his clothing. Met with hard muscle, he may as well have been cut from marble—an Adonis of power and strength unlike anything she’d ever seen.

The white’s of Jim’s eyes are all but tracking, brimming with terror as Logan snarls—actually snarls—down into his face. Possessive rage clouds any semblance of humanity left in his face—it’s all Wolverine.

The Wolverine. Her Wolverine. Out from the shadows, out from any corner anyone had ever shoved him in—out to fight. To kill. For her. All for her, all for them, all for this.

She can’t put a full finger on the power of this honor, this…privilege. And that’s what it is, really—loving him is privilege. Is honor, only imaginable and dreamstate for girls like her. Everyday girls with little to offer, with little hopes for the next day other than to survive, to pray.

But Logan, somehow, had seen her—had seen her enough to care and care deeply, to his bones, adamantium bones he wars every second of the day to mummify, contain.

Truth of the matter hits her like a stone between the eyes—it doesn’t matter how deeply Wolverine is buried within Logan’s sarcophagus of self control, his ability to walk the lines of his anger. Logan would kill for her, over nothing at all. It’s right here, right now, plain as the nose on her face—splayed out like prey, easy prey ready for the slaughter.

Logan would, could, destroy a man over a simple drunken act of flirtatiousness. If it meant her pleasure.

What a position of power, indeed.

And Mare isn’t certain if it's love or power—if it’s even human.

Humanity wins. Logan's grip on Jim’s collar releases. Jim scurries away foot-over-foot, gasping for air, her realizing this is honestly much less complicated than matters of love, power. Both are players, but never common denominators.

A wolverine, after all, doesn’t fit into just one category—he’s both predator and prey. To something larger, to something smaller.

This is just, very simply, Logan.

Fisting and unfisting his fingers, he studies his hand as if it is otherworldly and not a part of his anatomy. After a few beats, Logan turns to face her. Jim is across the bar, a few hands clapping his back to check on him—as if he isn’t the offense of the entire situation.

Pressing into Logan, she rests her cheek against his chest, arms circling him in a hard embrace. He presses her close, a hand on the back of her head, chin coming to rest in her mess of curls. Breathing in his deep sense, her blood begins to cool—earthquaking in the base of her spine begins to dissipate. Colors of the room come alive again, the air suddenly all too breathable.

Her head tips back to consider his face—unreadable, mostly, save for the glimmer of light in the corners of his eyes.

The corner of her mouth tips up into a small tick, a heat she can’t describe hanging low in the base of her ribs as his hands lift to hold her face, delicately. As if he couldn't destroy her with a breath, as if he hadn't almost just culled mostly innocent blood.

Calluses rough against her cheeks, she presses into his touch. Firms up her arms around his middle.

“And there he is,” there’s no malice in her voice, only awe. Care. “Had me worried there for a second, bub.” Smallest hint of a smile at the return use of his favorite jibe from her sends her heart pitching across her chest, as if it’ll take residence on the other side of her ribs.

The line of his jaw relaxes and she nuzzles her nose into the front of his flannel, “Now I get why Riz says ‘no boyfriends at work’—you’re a walking OSHA violation, Logan Howlett.” Unsure if Canada has anything remotely similar to OSHA, she forgets the idea entirely.

He knows, he always knows.

Sighing into his chest, he fills up her senses on a full, deep breath. “And as much as I should slap you upside your thick head for almost slicing one of my best customers into tiny pieces, I have to say—I like the overprotectiveness,” her fingers gently brush through his beard, head tipped to the side like a curious pup, “a bunch. Like it a lot, Howlett.”

His fingers in her hair tip her head back to look up at him, again. A low chortle has her blood flaming deep beneath her skin. “Yeah? Seemed a little nervous to me, bub,” he emphasizes the use of the name with a smile, spinning one of her curls around his finger. A gentle tug as her nose scrunches in amusement.

She giggles at the sensation of his fingers playing through her hair, “Flappin’ Jim had what was comin’ to him, that’s all.”

“Maybe.” And without thinking, “Nobody’s ever stuck up for me like that before, Logan.”

And there it is, out in the open.

Like the soft underbelly of the mud turtles she’d spotted all summer—-vulnerable. It hangs between them like a prayer. Lines on his face pull into a surprised wrinkle for all of a beat, then something enters his expression she’s never seen before—sorrow, maybe. Compassion, in the way his head cants to the side as he studies her looking at her boots. Just standing there, like a fortress. Unmoving, and resounding. Saying nothing and everything all at once.

Logan’s finger dips beneath her chin to tip her gaze up to his. “Don’t ask me how, but somehow I knew that,” his palm moves to caress her cheek, pad of his thumb gently skipping over the curve of her bottom lip. “You’re worth stickin’ up for, darlin’—I’m honored to be the first one to actually show it.” Two fingers dip into the front pocket of her jeans, shuffling her a few steps closer, until her chest brushes his.

“And let’s hope I’m the last."

Her heart swells to new heights yet unsurpassed by science, maybe even prose. “Who am I to deny the Wolverine?” Lifting on her toes, her nose brushes the seam of his mouth before her arms curl around his neck, his hands soft at the flare of her hips. “I’m yours if you’ll have me, Logan,” biting her lower lip, she fights the urge to smile—can’t, never could.

His kiss is hard. Fast, hungry—rough in the way God Himself intended for man. It’s everything the poets ever described a kiss to be, probably more. Infinitely more, mostly because it was her kiss. Hers, and hers alone. Right here, right now, even if the stars couldn’t see.

He’s a little breathless when they part. And God, if it doesn’t take her apart.

“Y’know, Logan—Jim was right about one thing, before he ran his fat mouth off.”

He chuckles. “Hm?”

“You really kinda are a wild man.”

#hugh jackman #wolverine #logan howlett #logan #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x oc #wolverine x oc #x men #xmen logan #xmen wolverine #xmen #mare writes #james logan howlett #james howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #logan xmen #themareverine:masterlist #themareverine: navigation

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mindfulstudyquest · 1 year ago

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❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗳𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲

𝟭. being consistent in journaling ( 🪻 )

i have recently started journaling more consistently and would like to maintain this line. i tried several times to start, failing miserably, because i couldn't find a method that would keep me motivated for a long time. then i purchased the famous five minutes gratitude journal, which is much easier to keep, and which i manage to update almost every day because by simply having to answer the pre-set questions my brain doesn't experience it as a commitment, unlike writing a diary page. alongside the fmj i have another diary with blank pages that i use as a proper diary, writing my reflections, talking about my day, complaining about negative things and stuff like that. i must say that it's therapeutic. i hope this is the right time i can maintain consistency in writing.

𝟮. having a more balanced diet ( 🍋‍🟩 )

i admit i've been eating like shit lately, a lot of sweets and processed foods alternated with periods of fasting due to guilt with the excuse of not having enough time to cook among the thousand things to do. i want to seriously commit to investing some of my time each week into preparing healthy, homemade meals (i could share some recipes here if you want, lmk) that keep me energized and don't ruin my hard work at the gym by adding empty calories to my diet.

𝟯. being consistent in the gym ( 🍄 )

and then obviously going to the gym at least 3 times a week, not really due to a matter of weight/aesthetics, but to cultivate discipline and focus. i believe that physically venting stress is the best and healthiest way to handle the crushing weight of life lately. sometimes i simply need to unload my energy without throwing a fit and risking venting it on someone who has nothing to do with it.

𝟰. reading at least 10 pages per day ( 📚 )

i love reading. i love reading madly, but i also know that i often find a thousand excuses not to do it. my brain fried by social media and zombie scrolling doesn't like the idea of concentrating on printed pages at all and i always put off reading all those books placed on my shelf gathering dust. i haven't read a book in months, so the time has come to break this bad habit and take back my greatest passion. i won't even mention all the benefits of reading, because only one book can give you so much in such a short time.

𝟱. sleep at least 8 hours ( ☕ )

i think my lack of sleep has a psychological component, but i'm no expert so what i say may not actually make any sense. i sleep little, much less than i need, when i was in high school i finished studying very late at night (past 3am) every day because i was so dependent on academic validation that the idea of getting a slightly lower grade than my usual could make me throw up. the thing is, i always delay going to sleep, even though my body is begging me to do so, and i think it's due to an inherent fear that the next day i'll have to go through it all over again. consequently in the morning i'm a wreck and i have to drag myself out of bed, being 30% as productive as i actually could be. i think it's time to work on my sleep schedule much more seriously, i think it could boost my health a lot.

𝟲. spend 15min in the sun every day ( ☀️ )

as a woman i know how important it is to be in the sun to produce vitamin D, unfortunately for me i'm some kind of goblin vampire who can't stay in the sun for more than five minutes without getting sunburned – on top of that my eyes start to water when the light too strong. i'll arm myself with sunscreen and give my body what it needs, hoping i won't get arthritis in my forties.

let me know in the comments what are YOU planning to improve in the near future <3

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hippiegoth97 · 10 months ago

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Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 8

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 7

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhor

e @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Swearing, smoking, smut, fingering, praise/degradation, unprotected sex, squirting, mentions of commitment

Word Count: 5.6k

Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

Part 8: Two of Hearts

Wednesday, March 22nd, 1989

A couple days have gone by, and you're spending the afternoon studying on the couch. Books and flashcards are splayed out all around you, and you're deep in concentration. Eddie has stayed over every night so far, but he has a shift almost every day this week so he always has to leave after breakfast to go home and change. The clock on the wall tick tick ticks the minutes away, you prefer the absolute quiet when you study. Music helps with assignments for some strange reason, but it's nothing other than a distraction when you cram for exams. It's like you're compelled to sing and dance along to the music, which makes it difficult to pound information into your head.

Mom called again this morning, just for a short check-in. She figured telling you all the details of how much fun everyone is having would just make you upset, which isn't an unfair assumption. She sounded far less sad on the phone than she did on Monday night though, so she kinda clued you in to all the good times you were missing out on anyway. You try to not let it bother you, focusing on your flashcards. You struggle to stay on task however, your eyes darting to the phone on the table in front of you every so often. Chrissy hasn't called back yet, and with each passing day, you worry she never will. You bite your lip, wanting that phone to ring so badly. You're startled as Eddie comes walking in the front door, breaking you out of your anxious trance.

"Honey, I'm home!" He says in a sing-song voice, kicking off his shoes. You turn your head to meet his gleeful smile, and he slowly makes his way over to you. He leans down, planting a warm kiss to your lips. "And how's my little bookworm doing?" He asks, looking you over. Your hair is in a messy bun atop your head, and you're still in pajamas as you don't have anywhere else to be today.

"I'm alright, my brain is absolutely fried, though." You pinch the bridge of your nose, a stress tick Eddie has taken notice of over the last few weeks.

"Well, how 'bout you take a small...study break? We still haven't tried out your present, ya know. I'd have half a mind to be offended, if we haven't already been fucking like bunnies." He bites his lip, stroking your cheek to tempt you. Your eyes flutter closed at his touch, you may have been looking forward to Eddie coming home for a very specific reason.

"I suppose I can call it a day, I've been at it for hours. Clearly, I can't absorb any more vocab words or facts about mitochondria." With that, he helps you mark your place in all your books, and binds your flashcards in a rubber band before handing them to you. "Thank you, darling." You stack everything neatly on the coffee table, not planning to open anything back up until Eddie leaves for work again in the morning. You stand together, unable to resist draping your arms around his shoulders as his hands grip your waist. They quickly find their way to your ass, squeezing your flesh roughly through your shorts. "Did you miss me that much? You've barely been home for five minutes and you're already copping a feel." You giggle, teasingly poking the tip of his nose with your tongue.

"Sorry for making you wait, I'd planned on doing it as soon as I walked in the door." Eddie kisses you hungrily, breaking apart a moment later once he's stolen your breath away. He looks deep into your eyes, enchanting you as your heart begins to race. "And to answer your question, I always miss you. Every second we're apart, I just wanna come running right back." His lips capture yours once more before you can respond, lighting that familiar, primal fire in your belly. You clumsily walk backwards down the hall to your room, bumping into the walls multiple times as you don't want to stop kissing for a single second.

You stumble into the bedroom, letting Eddie push you against the open door. His hands grope your chest, teasing your nipples through your shirt. He lowers his head to mark your neck with love bites. "Fuck, Eddie. I need more, and I need out of these clothes." You whine as his teeth bite down on your skin harshly, tugging on his thick locks. He groans against you, meeting your eyes.

"Anything you want, princess." He replies breathlessly, pulling at the hem of your shirt. You lift your arms, allowing him to remove it with ease. Your tits bounce as they're freed from the thin fabric, making his eyes boggle. You lift his own shirt upwards, trying to strip him down too. He helps you take it off, discarding it to the floor. He tries to start attacking your breasts, but you reach for his belt to keep undressing him. "Someone's getting ahead of herself." He quips, just watching as you frantically unzip his jeans. He pulls them down along with his boxers, kicking them off his feet. As he does so, you remove your shorts, exposing the rest of your perfect body to him. You glance at his hardened cock, noting the precum gathered on his tip. "See something you want, angel?" He asks, standing very close to you again. His erection pokes against your stomach, leaving a wet streak on your skin.

"I want you inside me so badly, baby. You wanna feel how wet I am for you?" You say seductively, batting your eyelashes at him. He reaches a hand between your legs, his breath hitching as his fingers meet your slick folds. You moan at his touch, leaning against the door as he continues to stroke you. You take his length in your grip, pumping him at an agonizing pace. He groans, eyes burning into yours as you continue to touch each other. "You said something about testing out my present? You wanna grab it for me, Eds?" You speak as innocently as you can, taking your hand off of his dick.

He just nods, grinning as he always does. He's been waiting for this moment for at least a week. Ever since he first hatched the idea, he's wanted nothing more than to use every single page in that little book. Eddie quickly grabs the box from your bedside table, placing it in your hands. You bite your lip eagerly, opening the box and taking the booklet and D20 out. "Do you want to roll it on the dresser? I figure there's more space for it to move properly that way." You heed his advice, the two of you standing in front of the chest of drawers and watching your reflections in the mirror. Eddie stands behind you, holding your hips gingerly.

You set the book down, holding the die in your palm. The glitter inside it catches the light, as if to tell you just how much it longs for you to finally use it. You conceal it in your hands, holding them together tightly as you shake it. Eddie's eyes are trained on you, observing your every move. You let the die clatter to the surface below you, watching it turn on its sides frantically. Your heart pounds in anticipation, waiting to see what the die will land on. It slowly bounces to a stop, and you gaze at the number displayed before you. Fifteen. "I was hoping you'd get that one first. Wanna open the book to see which one it is?" His lips brush against your neck again, heating up your skin as he speaks to you.

You take the book in your hands, flipping to the fifteenth page. Your eyes widen at the illustration he drew for you, with the title 'Siren's Song' in elegant script at the top. "Oh, my God." Is all you can manage to say, before whipping around to face Eddie. He's about to say something smart when you smash your mouth against his, clashing your teeth as you desperately shove your tongue in his mouth. You put your hands on his bare chest, leading him to the bed. The backs of his knees hit the edge, causing him to fall onto it. His lips part from yours, and he leans back on his palms.

"Shall I get in position, love?" He asks, grinning at your lustful expression.

"Yes, please." You reply, almost whining. The image from the book has set your insides ablaze, and you want to try to imitate it as best you can. Eddie sits on his knees with his legs pressed together, holding his arms out for you to join him. You climb onto the bed, turning your back to him as you straddle his thighs. Your legs spread wide and bend at the knees on either side of him, and his cock is resting against your ass as you press your back to his chest. Eddie's right hand grips your hip, while his left reaches around you to rub your clit. "Eddie." You moan, letting your head fall backwards as sensation begins to take over. His fingers continue to wind you up, he's taking his time.

"I love it when you say my name, baby. Your noises are so beautiful, and so fuckin' dirty." His breath fans over you, turning you on further. You just want him to fuck you already, you're feeling painfully impatient. It truly doesn't take much for him to get you going, especially when you're about to try a brand new position. His fingers slide into you with ease, brushing against your g spot. You moan right into Eddie's ear, feeding him every little sound to make his dick twitch. It seems to work, and he fingers you faster. He wants to rev you up to a point where you're begging him to fuck you. The pitiful tone of your voice when you plead is so intoxicating. "You like it when I finger you, slut? Do you want more?" He speaks lowly, his nose brushing against your cheek as he teases you.

"You feel so good, love. But I want your cock inside me. Please?" There it is, those magic words he's been waiting to hear. He takes his fingers out of you, sucking them clean between his lips. He moans at the taste, and you just watch in awe of him. You lift yourself up, letting Eddie drag his length against your clit and needy hole. He positions his tip at your entrance, leading you to slowly sink down onto him. You moan together as he fills you up perfectly, and your cunt hugs him just the way he likes.

"God, you're so tight, baby." Eddie grunts as he's fully sheathed inside you. You're taking a moment to adjust, this is an entirely new angle for you. His tip is kissing your cervix, he feels deeper than he's ever been. "Take your time, sweetheart. You're in full control here, whenever you're ready." He coos at you, kissing your neck lovingly. His hands sit at your hip and your breast, stroking you gently as your insides relax. You gradually lift yourself up, before sinking right back down onto him.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry out, reaching behind you to hold Eddie's neck for support. He's so close to you, you can feel his heartbeat in your back. This position is surprisingly comforting to you, he's letting you control your pleasure while keeping you safe in his embrace. You see now why he hoped you'd roll for this one, it's simultaneously mind-blowing and intimate in the best possible way. "I love you so much, Eds. Thank you again for the gift, it's really amazing." You turn your head to kiss him deeply, clenching your walls around him to emphasize your words.

He groans at the squeeze, his breath shuddering when you break away. "I love you too, Y/N. And I'm glad you like it. I wanted to make it as special as I could for you, because you're so important to me." He kisses your cheek, squeezing your waist to coax you into riding him. You take the hint, lifting up once more to sink back down again. Another cry of pleasure rips from your throat, and you begin to bounce steadily on Eddie's cock. His hands continue to hold you with gentle support, and your movements on him draw many noises from his lips as well. Your ass smacks against his thighs, the sound mingling with the harmony of moans filling the room.

A heavy knot is forming within you, balling itself up tighter every time you land on Eddie's lap. "God, this feels so good. You're so deep like this, baby." You love telling him how everything makes you feel, you've never been so vocal in bed before he came along. Hell, there's lots of things you've never done before until Eddie brought them out of you. It's crazy when you think about it, he's managed to completely change your life in so many ways. You genuinely like waking up every day, when you used to dread having to face the world until you could retreat to your bed at night. You're truly happy, something you never thought you'd be. And it's all thanks to the man currently sitting underneath you as you ride him like your life depends on it.

Your bodies are soaked in sweat from how close you are to one another, and your breath comes out hot and labored. The knot inside you is wound up so tight, threatening to snap as Eddie's cock hits all the right places again and again. He's not far behind you, his hair clinging to his face as he peppers your neck with kisses between moans. "I love it when you ride me, baby. You're such a good little slut for me. Are you getting close, angel?" He speaks lowly, pushing you closer to the edge with his filthy words.

"I am, Eds. You fill me up so well, it's so fucking good." You bounce on him even faster, wanting to lose control so badly. He groans into your neck, biting it harshly as his stomach tenses. His hand leaves your chest, rubbing your clit in quick circles. "Eddie! Oh, God! Keep going, just like that!" You moan so loud, oddly worried about someone hearing you. But then you remember you're all alone in the house, refocusing on the task at hand. Your walls flutter around his length, signaling your fast-approaching release.

"Cum for me, princess. Be a good girl. Fuck!" His own high overtakes him, his hips bucking upwards a couple times as he paints your insides with his load. He continues rubbing you, and you keep riding him as hard and as fast as you can. Eddie knows just how to send you toppling over the deep end, grinning as he puts his lips to your ear again. "You wanna know why I named this one 'Siren's Song', Y/N?" He purrs. You just moan in response, signaling to him that you definitely want to hear whatever it is he has to say. Small waves of pleasure begin to wash over you, you're almost there and his final words are sure to take you where you need to go. "It's because these pretty noises you make could lure any man to certain death. And I'd happily let you lead me to mine, love." He chuckles darkly as he bites your earlobe, ignoring how overstimulated his dick is as you've kept up your pace to get yourself off. He gently pinches your clit between his fingers, sealing your fate.

"Oh, fuck!" You scream as your orgasm takes you over, Eddie holds you steady while your legs begin to shake. You pulsate around him, making his breath stutter. Your arousal soaks his cock, spilling out onto his lap beneath you. Your head has fallen completely backwards over his shoulder, helpless noises tearing themselves from your vocal chords. He watches meticulously as you fall apart, memorizing every sound, every twitch of your thighs, the absolutely fucked look on your face. Your body goes limp, letting your pleasure subside as you struggle to catch your breath.

Eddie holds you close, his arms wrapped snugly around you to keep you from falling over. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you. He plants delicate kisses on every inch of flesh he can reach, pulling you back to reality. Your sweat has turned cold, but his embrace stops you from shivering. "Did you enjoy yourself, darling?" He asks, helping your head sit upright.

"I really did, baby. It was amazing." You sigh contentedly, feeling the blood rushing from your head. You let Eddie capture your lips in a tender kiss, pulling away a moment later. You slowly lift yourself off of his cock, small whines leaving your mouths until his length falls limp in his lap. You stand off the bed, almost stumbling as your legs feel like the bones are missing. He tries to reach out and help you, but you wave him away. "I got it. I'm gonna get a towel to clean us up." You regain balance, waddling over to the linen closet. You're feeling a little sore, cursing yourself for going so hard.

"You okay, love?" He asks from the bed, sitting as still as possible to keep the pool of cum in his lap from spilling everywhere. He can't help smirking as you walk awkwardly, it is a bit silly. But concern soon takes over, and he’s worried you’ve pushed yourself too far.

"Yes, Eddie." You reply, a little annoyed. You know he just cares about you so much, but you don't need him doting on you all the time. You go back to the bed with the towel, trying to walk as normal as possible so he'll stop worrying. You wipe yourself down first, wincing when the towel touches your overworked cunt.

"Baby, you don't have to lie to me." He says quietly, not wanting to argue with you. He just hates seeing you uncomfortable.

"I know, I'm not lying. I'm fine. Maybe I went a little too hard, but I'll bounce back. I'm not made of glass, Eds." You toss the towel to him, and he catches it against his chest. He stares at you a moment, before deciding to accept your answer. You insist it's not a big deal, so he'll drop it. Eddie dries himself off, standing to discard the towel into the hamper. He digs around in the dufflebag he left in your room for some clean pajamas, slipping into them as you retrieve some of your own.

Eddie notices you putting your shirt on easily, but struggling to step into your shorts. "Sweetheart, let me help." He tuts, almost pitying you as you try and fail to get them on.

"Alright." You sigh, frustrated that you need his assistance for something so simple. He kneels down, holding your shorts up. You rest a hand on his back so you don't fall over, putting one foot in after the other. He pulls the garment up your legs until it's resting at your waist. "Thanks, baby. Maybe I'm not as 'fine' as I thought."

Eddie stands again, pulling you into a firm hug. His head rests on top of yours as he holds you to his chest, and you embrace him just as strongly. "You gotta be more careful, princess. I like rough sex as much as the next guy, but you can seriously hurt yourself if you don't take it easy. And we don't want that, do we?"

"No, my love." You reply, muffled against his shirt. He places a kiss on your head, loosening his grip on you to look you in the eyes. You smile at one another, sharing a chaste kiss. You nuzzle against his chest, stroking your arms up and down his back. You're tempted to stay like this forever, safe in Eddie's arms is your favorite place to be. But your stomach has other ideas, growling loudly for some dinner.

"You hungry, angel?" He asks, chuckling quietly at the sound. You nod against his chest, not wanting to let go. "C'mon, love. We can cuddle once you've eaten something."

"You might have to carry me, unless you wanna see me waddle like a penguin." You look at him again, flashing your best puppy eyes.

"I dunno, that would be pretty amusing..." He smirks, teasing you. You beg harder with your eyes, pouting your lower lip. You truly don't want him to laugh at you, it's embarrassing to be so helpless. "You're impossible to say no to, you know that?" He rolls his eyes playfully, scooping you into his arms. You sling your own around his neck to hold on, cheering as he gives in to your request so easily. You love when Eddie carries you, it makes you feel like a princess. Which is fitting, since he calls you that so often. He clearly loves it too, he'll do anything you ask if it'll put a smile on your face. He carries you effortlessly to the kitchen, setting you down gently on the countertop. "How's a pb&j sound?" He asks, turning around to take the raspberry jam out of the fridge.

"Sounds perfect." You chirp, your stomach rumbling in agreement. You watch Eddie as he moves about your kitchen, easily locating everything he needs to make the sandwiches. He's certainly made himself at home, and you can't help but love him for it. The two of you being alone in the house is great, you can have as much sex as you want at whatever volume you like. But it's also like you're practicing what it would be like to live together. The thought alone of sharing a house or apartment with him sends your heart aflutter. A space all your own, full of love and happiness. It's every girl's dream, right? You wonder if Eddie has a similar fantasy, but it's much too soon to ask such a thing.

"If I had a dollar for every time you spaced out, I'd be a fuckin' millionaire, babydoll." Eddie startles you out of your trance, the image of you two picking out furniture dissipating from your mind. He smiles kindly, pushing a plate closer to you. He’s cut the sandwiches in half, and even put some baby carrots on the side. You realize that almost every meal you've had with Eddie has been a bit juvenile, reminding you how young you really are. Maybe too young to even imagine living together anytime soon. "Something wrong?" He quirks an eyebrow at you, curious as to what exactly you were dreaming about this time. Though he doubts you'll tell him.

"Sorry, it's nothing." You try to laugh it off, taking a carrot from your plate. His eyes don't leave your face, prompting you to speak further. "Alright, if you really wanna know, you can't get weirded out. Okay?"

"I won't, I promise." He replies seriously, putting a hand over yours. His warm touch calms you, lifting some of the weight from your thoughts.

"Well, I was just noticing how familiar you're getting when you're here. You know where everything is, basically." You say, watching his expression change to one of further confusion. "What I mean is, having the house to ourselves, it's like we're living together almost." You bite your lip nervously, unsure how he'll react to that.

"Yeah, is there something wrong with that?" He’s almost offended, thinking you don't want him to be familiar with you and your home. But that couldn't be further from the truth.

You shake your head. "No, of course not! I really enjoy it, actually. I was thinking about what it'd be like for us to have our own place, picking out furniture and putting up photos of us on the walls. Cuddling in our own bed, in our own room, in our own apartment or house. It just sounds so nice, but I'm not in a rush to do that, or anything. I was just...dreaming about it." You can't help smiling and blushing wildly at the idea, which makes Eddie's heart soar as he watches you react to your own words.

"You really see us doing all that?" His tongue plays at the edge of his lips, and he picks up half of his sandwich as he waits for your answer. He does want a future with you, a lot sooner than you'd think. But he doesn't want to put you in a weird position, and he himself is unsure he'd be able to provide for you. He can barely keep his own shit together, let alone afford an apartment. You mean everything to him, but he doesn't know if he's even good enough to ask you to take any further steps in your relationship.

"Well, yeah. But I mean, not right now." You insist. "Because I also thought about how childish we still are, we eat like teenagers for Christ's sake." You gesture at your plates to emphasize the point, giggling at how silly it is. "Plus, I'm still in school, and you have Wayne. Not to mention, we've only been together what, three weeks?" Eddie nods, his face saddening a bit. It's a little surprising that he actually wants to commit to you, take care of you the way you deserve. Guys are typically pretty flighty about this kind of thing. God, he really is the sweetest man you've ever met. You hold his hand, regaining his attention. "But I love you, Eddie. And when the timing is right, and we have a real plan, we can do whatever we want. Okay?"

"Okay." He replies, moving to stand between your legs for a moment. His hands rest on your waist, and yours go to his shoulders. "I love you, Y/N. More than I can ever truly put into words." He gazes at you so intensely, it almost frightens you. You don't think he's ever been this serious before, not even when you've gotten hurt or made him angry.

"C'mere, loverboy." You smile, leaning in as he's about to kiss you. When your lips meet, it's like a promise is being made. A vow, if one wants to get technical. Electric currents of adoration and devotion flick between you, binding your hearts together in a bond you hope never breaks. You speak with your tongues as they tangle in each other's mouths, saying 'I'll do everything I can to make you happy, my love' in this kiss that seems to last forever. Joyful tears flow calmly from your eyes, mingling together on your cheeks as you continue to hold one another close.

You pull away to breathe, resting your forehead against Eddie's with your eyes closed. You stay like this for a while, tears still falling silently onto the floor and counter beneath you. You feel so strongly for him, you can't imagine being with anybody else. And time after time, Eddie has proven he feels just the same for you. His hands leave your waist, gently wiping your tears away. You open your eyes, sitting up straight to look at him. He's smiling at you, so bright and kind. You return the sentiment, reaching up to dry his face with your fingers. "Hey there, princess." He says quietly, not wanting to disturb the calm energy in the room.

"Hey." You whisper back, letting your hands rest in your lap now. You look at the plates on the counter, remembering how hungry you still are. "You wanna finish dinner, love?"

"Yeah, much as I enjoy kissing and crying, we might need to have actual food every once in a while." He laughs, and you join him. Eddie hands you your plate to hold, and he hops onto the counter to sit beside you. His shoulder rubs against yours, he can't go a moment without touching you in some way. You finish eating in contented silence, and he puts the empty dishes into the sink for you once you’re done. "Do you still need me to carry you, princess?" He asks, standing beside you expectantly.

"Please." You grin at him, holding out your arms while making grabby hands. He lets you wrap your arms around his neck, before lifting you off the counter. Eddie carries you back to bed, setting you down carefully. You lay your head on the pillows, gazing up at him lovingly. "So, it's not very late just yet. Did you maybe want to help me make my D&D character?"

"I was just going to suggest the same thing." He grabs your starter kit from your dresser, putting it beside you. Before sitting down, he digs out his own D&D materials and splays them out on the bed. He sits cross-legged next to you, and you mirror his position. "I figure I can show you how to fill the sheet out and let you read through the book to decide what you'd like to play as. I also need to start working on the next campaign, I'd like to have it ready by the time the kiddos come back from their trip. I'll try not to be too sadistic with it, since you'll be playing. But I'm tellin' ya now, I'm only gonna do that once."

"Well, I appreciate that, darling. I'd hate for you to take it easy on me just because I'm your girlfriend. That wouldn't be very fair, now would it?" You smirk, opening the starter box to examine the contents. "Besides, I've got to prove myself if I'm going to be the 'Queen of Hellfire'." You open up the manual, setting to work reading the races and classes within it to see which ones sound like a good fit for you.

"That you do, baby. I have no doubt you'll be more than worthy of the title, and again, not just because you're my girlfriend." He chuckles, leaning over to kiss your head before opening his notebook. The two of you spend the next couple hours working on your individual projects, though Eddie happily answers any questions you have. He also gives suggestions as to what race or class might suit you better, and which abilities you'd find most useful. He's so glad you're genuinely interested in playing this game with him, he wasn't sure you'd be all that into it.

When the clock reads 11:30pm, you can't hold back the massive yawn that spills from your lips. Your character is complete, sans a sketch that Eddie insists he'll draw for you. You pack everything away for the night, standing on your own for the first time in hours to open the bedroom window. You and Eddie lean out of it, sharing a smoke before you go to bed. He's got work again tomorrow, though you always beg him to call in sick every day. He always tells you he would if he could, but his boss doesn't take kindly to sick days. "Your boss sounds like a real asshole, Eds." You say as you have every other time you've asked him to stay with you.

"He certainly is, Y/N. But, I kinda need the money. Not everyone gets the luxury of going to college and having everything paid for by their parents." He doesn't mean this as a slight against you, it's just a simple fact. You do have a privileged existence, and you don't pretend not to.

"I know, love. If we could switch places, I would. You've always had to work harder than everyone else, and you still end up with less. It's not fair." You can't help feeling bad for him, though he doesn't seem to mind all that much.

"No, it's not. Some people have more money, more opportunities, more power. That's just the way it is. But it's not like I'm miserable. I have you, don't I?" He nudges you with his shoulder, almost making you drop your cigarette.

"I know, I'm not trying to make it sound like being poor is bad, or something. I just love you and care about you so much. I want to give you everything you want, because you deserve it." You look at him as you inhale a long final drag. You flick the butt away, letting the smoke flow slowly from your lips.

"But I already have everything I want." He replies, smirking at your widened eyes. "What? I have you, and the club, and my uncle. I've got a van that gets around just fine, and a decent enough job. I've got clothes on my back, a place to sleep, and enough food to eat. What else does a person need, hm?" He tosses his own cigarette away, pulling you into him by your waist.

"Well, I feel like an asshole when you put it like that." You joke.

"No, I get what you mean, sweetheart. You're just expressing how much you care for me, it's sweet. But no matter how much or how little I have, it doesn't mean a thing as long as you're in my life."

"You're such a romantic little shit sometimes, you know that?" You giggle quietly, and he chuckles too.

"Yeah, well, you've definitely touched my once-cynical heart, princess." He gives you a gentle kiss, too tired to heat things up again. "Let's get to bed, angel. We both need rest." He says softly. You nod, going to the bed and slipping into the covers. Eddie removes his shirt so he won't get too hot, before flicking the lightswitch and climbing into bed beside you. He pulls you close to spoon you, his long arms wrapping you up just right. "Goodnight, my love." He whispers, kissing the back of your neck.

"Goodnight, Eds." You reply, closing your eyes as sleep overtakes you.

To be continued...

#hippiegoth97 #stranger things #eddie munson #fanfiction #smut #1980s #hawkins #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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kbagraces · 1 year ago

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Curious Time - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Singer!reader

Multiple part series where their friendship was easy, their feelings were confusing and the distance was the hardest <3

(Third person perspective)

PART 4 -

I KNOW IT WON’T WORK

"What if I'm not worth the time and breath your saving?"

yourusername just posted

It's finally finished! My debut album! I'm so proud of this, she's my baby. Thank you for being patient over these last 6 years. We've had singles, we've had EPs and now an ALBUM.

Introducing "I know it won't work" out November 4th!

To thank you, one more single off the album before she's all yours. The song the whole project is named after, 'I know it won't work' is yours!

Liked by landonorris, pietrapiola and 127,000 others

Since leaving Lando's in the summer, y/n had worked non stop on the album. She was right in telling him it wouldn't work as they now were speaking less than they ever had. Hence the blatantly obvious title track written solely about him. She put her soul into this album, songs that were personal to her every experience.

Everyone would interpret them differently, one of the things she loved about her art. But he'd know and in the back of her mind she worried for his reaction. Would he be happy? Would he be hurt?

Beautiful song. Call me sometime.

That was it. A simple message as if he knew she was worrying. It was just enough to calm her. She left his in May it was now September. Things were fine for a month, until calls got few and far between how she'd expected. It was normal she knew they'd come back to each other but this one hurt more, maybe because she felt his promises were now empty.

July was worse as Lando was spotted with some model she'd not heard of. She wasn’t one to believe gossip pages, so when she saw she couldn't think quick enough before her hands had type a message to Pietra, her inside woman when it came to Lando gossip due to her boyfriend and his 'bromance' as they call it.

Pietra confirmed they were causally seeing each other. Empty promises. Y/n found herself infatuated with the mystery girl, leading to her writing one of her songs 'Lacy' off her new album.

The song she is performing tonight at the Brits. She's beyond nervous. Not speaking to Lando before hand like she usually would isn't helping. She's on in 30 minutes and her brain is racking up all the things that could go wrong. But he's not hers to call anymore.

Pietra was there but she was engrossed in her phone, not aware of y/n’s mental termoil.

Y/n’s phone rings... Lando. She doesn't want to give in but God does she need these nerves to go.

"Hi Lan, long time no speak." She sighs out of awkwardness.

"P told me you're a surprise guest at the Brits? Why didn't you tell me? I'm so proud of you y/n/n." He cheers. She can hear the smile in his voice talking like nothing had changed, like she hadn't just released a song about how much she dreaded the idea of them together.

"I wasn't meant to tell anybody, you know."

"I'm not anybody though, y/n/n." He sounds hurt now. That's not what she meant. She just wasn't sure he cared anymore. She'd been ignoring him after she found out about his mystery girl leading them to only drift further apart. "What are you singing tonight? The song about me or..." he teases.

She's glad he gets it, she's glad he's not angry.

"Um, well. No. Well it's not the latest song if that's what's your asking?" She stutters, it's not the one he's heard, but not far fri being about him.

"Another one about me? Oh I am flattered. Can this one be a little happier this time. I wasn't all bad in our friendship."

"Oh this one is sort of about you, but not really. And it's not happy I'm sorry, I wrote it when I was a little crazy but it's too good to not release." She's rambling, he knows she's nervous whether it be about the performance about the song abour talking to him, he can sense it.

"10 minutes!" Someone yells form outside her dressing room

"Lan I've got to go. Thank you for calling. We'll speak soon?" Another empty promise.

"Y/n/n, wait. You'll smash it you know. You're amazing at what you do, everyone will love it whatever it's about."

He always knew what she needed to hear, she hated that about him. She hated that they were still so in sync. But he's with someone else, it won't work.

As she steps on stage, smoke circles around her feet. The lights so bright she can barely see the crowd, it makes it easier.

"Lacy, oh Lacy..."

The cheers were deafening, she'd never felt more acknowledged, more proud. Tears in her eyes she hugs her guitarist so tight. She's proud of herself, her hard work paying off.

She doesn't stick around for press, the alcohol she downed after her performance would throw all PR training out the window. Pietra joins her to continue the party back at her London flat.

Yourusername just posted a picture

You got the one thing that I want

Brits thank you for having me

A couple of drinks more and P makes her way home to Max, leaving Pippa alone once more. A little too drunk to control her best interests, picking up her phone. Clicking Lando. It rings and rings until,

"Y/n, it's 2am where you are! What's wrong?"

"Lan! I did it! Did you see me? Of course you didn't, but I did it! I wish you were here." Why did she say that, but she didn't care right now she wanted him to be proud of her.

"Of course I saw y/n/n. Would never miss something like that. You're so talented, unbelievably talented."

"Lando who's on the phone"

Y/n heard it, the girl she's penned as Lacy. Embarrassment flushes her already red face from the alcohol.

"I didn't realise you had company, I'll leave you to it. Im sorry." A lump forming almost instantly in her throat. The alcohol heightening her emotions, although they were very real, just never this on the surface.

"Don't be sorry. I'll sit in the living room, we haven't spoke in so long please don't hang up. Please." She can't say no, she could never say no. He has a hold on her. They both know it, it infuriates her, causing her to blurt out emotions she saved only for writing sessions never to his face.

"You broke your promise." So quiet he almost missed it.

"What promise?"

Ouch.

"You promised to wait for me. You said it'd be different. We speak less than we ever have. I'm losing you and you're losing me. It's supposed to be us Lando. Now its you two."

"You never gave me a chance, y/n/n. You never gave me a chance in our friendship nor a relationship. You got fixated that it would be bad, you pushed me away not the other way around."

"I'm scared that's why! Not because I don't want you because I'm terrified it'll ruin what we have."

"Well we don't even have that anymore."

Double ouch.

"I'm going to go. I'm sorry I shouldn't have called."

"Y/n/n- wait- I-" He stutters, he doesn't know what he wants to say, he just doesn't want her to go. The girl in his bed is a pass time, he even thinks she's aware of it. She's enjoying her 5 minutes of fame, nice holidays and dinners knowing she's a place holder for the one he can't have.

"Bye Lan"

Tears finally leave her eyes, built up from 2 years of fighting for each other to end with nothing. Why was she so scared of the one thing she wanted? She hated herself right now. She couldn't stop crying from such a high to such a low. She reached to her phone which was still pinging with messages from Lando. Switching it off the tears fell and fell staining her blush coloured pillows.

This is all wrong and she's not sure it'll ever be right.

Masterlist

#lando norris x reader #ln4 #f1 #lando norris

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micamicster · 2 months ago

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Hiiiiiiii,

I was wondering if you or followers have good reading recs( preference for a published novel but a good fanfic also appreciated). I let Big corporations win and am now trying to avoid the endless scroll but am finding that I’m in a bit of bind to find something that’s scratching the itch and I refuse to regress back into binge reading YA(which is fine! But I believe that there must be a good story even if the protagonist goes to work sometimes) ((also extra preference is NYC is a main character bc I refuse to get a new personality))

I was trying to sit on this ask until I had more to offer you because my brain is completely fried and I’ve forgotten everything I’ve read in the last couple of years other than like. Moby dick. Which does not remotely meet your standards. However I don’t think my brain is likely to get less fried any time soon so I’m going to throw this out to my followers in hopes they can be more helpful than me!

For a couple of suggestions the first book that came to mind was The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wrecker, which is a lovely story about two fantasy creatures crossing paths in turn of the century New York. It is very deeply about the Jewish and Syrian immigrant communities in manhattan and illustrates their world and experiences through the ultimate fish-out-of-water stories of their non-human leads. It is slower paced so it may not be for everyone coming from YA though. Another fave is the girls at the kingfisher club by Genevieve Valentine, a fairytale retelling of the 12 dancing princesses set in jazz age new york. These characters do not have jobs lol. Shorter and quicker than the previous rec, this story focuses on the relationships between the sisters but has a central romance I really enjoyed as well. The next one is not set in new york but when I was younger and transitioning into adult fiction I remember barbara kingsolver being a great entry point. I would recommend The Bean Trees, which is about a young woman striking out on her own through the southwest only for someone to abandon a child in her car. I haven’t read it in years so I’m not sure how it holds up but I remember it being very readable with an engaging cast of weird female characters! Also not set in nyc but one of the few contemporary novels I enjoyed in the last couple years was station eleven by Emily st john Mandel, which is sort of a loosely connected cast of characters and vignettes about art and humanity in the post-apocalypse.

Anyone else with recs for my anon?

#there was also one last stop which is a romance novel set on the q train which was very popular a couple years back?#I personally found it a lil transplanty but that doesn’t make it bad! just not my preferred nyc flavor lol #but it might be what you’re looking for #not to sound like wildly pretentious but I’ve mostly been reading classics in my spare time so like #highly recommend to kill a mockingbird and slaughterhouse 5 and 100 years of solitude but I see those fit zero of your criteria

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quranwithsehar · 6 months ago

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Gems From My Quran Class

“We don’t choose to read the Quran, but rather, we are brought to it, by Allah.”

It’s best if we come to it willingly, otherwise, our circumstances become so difficult that we are forced towards it because there is no other place to find refuge. Or, life becomes so easy and filled with comforts that we get lost in them and forget our Lord.

Sometimes, we even forget ourselves. Has this ever happened to you? Like when you enter a room and forget why you came? Or go to the kitchen for something but leave without doing it? You were supposed to attend a wedding but forgot. You needed to call someone back but forgot. Someone gave you a task, but you forgot to do it. Why does this happen?

One reason for forgetfulness is brain fog, which many people started experiencing after the coronavirus. Another cause is eating foods high in oil and sugar. The more oil and sugar you consume, the more inflammation occurs in your brain.

Every part of the human body has pain receptors that let you know if something is wrong, like if your knee is scraped or inflamed—it hurts. If your muscles are tight, they hurt. But the brain doesn’t have pain receptors, so it doesn’t feel pain. Instead, inflammation in the brain shows up in other ways, like constant fatigue, depression, anxiety, and brain fog (forgetting things).

There are a few things that can reduce brain inflammation, such as eating less sugar and avoiding fried foods. Instead, you can use extra virgin olive oil, eat avocados, dark chocolate (unsweetened), and blueberries. The rule of thumb is to eat things that existed before the year 1900. If something didn’t exist before then, don’t eat it, and your brain will start to improve.

Another old method is eating almonds. If you want to take supplements, you can try Ginkgo Biloba capsules for at least a couple of months.

Why are we talking about brain issues in a Quran course? Because a hadith says that Allah loves a strong believer more than a weak one. This body is a trust given to you by Allah, and it's your duty to take care of it and not waste it.

What is another important reason for forgetting things all the time?

If you find yourself frequently forgetting things, it may be a sign that you are losing connection with yourself. Suddenly, you're overwhelmed with tasks, feeling buried in responsibilities from all directions. This doesn't always happen because of something bad—it can also be due to good things, like preparing for a wedding in the family, where you're so busy that you forget about yourself. Or maybe you're starting a new business and it's growing, but you're so absorbed in work that you neglect personal matters. Or maybe you start forgetting where you put things. Perhaps a tragedy has struck, like losing a loved one, and your heart feels so empty that you don’t care about anything anymore. These are all signs of losing touch with yourself.

And this is not a good thing.

Because Allah makes a person forget themselves when they forget Him.

Whenever you feel like you're forgetting everything, take supplements but ask yourself: is this happening because I've forgotten my Lord? Have my prayers become just a formality? Am I missing prayers? Do I find no time to make dua or remember Allah? Have I stopped thinking about the afterlife because I’m too busy with this world?

Have I upset Allah? Have I become so distant from Him that He has let me become so tangled up in this world that I’ve forgotten both Him and myself?

If you feel like this is happening to you too, then it's time to wake up and take action.

This lesson is being told to you as a reminder. You didn't come to this by chance—you were brought here. There’s something specific you are meant to hear. In this entire lesson, there will be at least one line that is especially for you. It’s not because the writer is great—it was meant to be written because it was decided that you would read it today. The writer doesn’t know who it’s for or why, and neither do the other students in this class know which line fits you perfectly.

This secret will stay between you and your Lord. No one else will know unless you choose to share it.

Will you ever find another class like this in your life?

Isn't the Quran better than all the things people gather?

#allah #islamdaily #quran #islamicreminder #lessons from quran #islamquotes #islamiyet

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f1zzyysoda · 2 months ago

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!! Welcome , Lovely Readers !!

My name is Fizzy Soda! I write short stories and am an aspiring author. If you have any requests, I'd be more than happy to make your fantasies come to life! Enjoy your time in at the WritingFunhouse!

BYI . ✦

* This user swears !! Always used lightheartedly * This user uses ttgs & struggles with tone !! * This user is a YAPPER !! * This user likes and posts light gore !!

Viewer discretion is advised at points in time. Minor interaction is okay, but be warned when reading.

CONTENT . ✦

1. Progress of personal projects 2. Side Stories 3. Requested Stories 4. Artwork 5. Random shizz

If you would like for me to write your story, please use the request option!

Anything suggestive/NSFW is not allowed

Requesting . ✦

Reminder that it's FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE. Please don't get upset if your story takes a minute to be posted ^^"

Give the idea that you want to write. The less fleshed out, the more creative liberty on my end.

Any NSFW is prohibited

Romance (of any kind) is allowed

You are allowed one request at a time. Once yours is done, you may submit another request.

If it's taking too long, or I accidentally skipped yours, please let me know! I'm only one person.

DNI . ✦

Basic DNI criteria and No NSFW requests. Just have basic human decency and we'll be all good to go! I want this blog to be a safespace for everyone!

I am quite lenient with my DNI. Pls don't have me put extra rules on this, my brain is fried.

IRRELEVANT INFO . ✦

I've written tons of fanfics 50+ ideas --- 0 started I once wrote 3 chapters and scrapped ALL of it I love stuffed animals Miku is NOT my favorite Vocaloid (It's the Kagamines) I actually love Hellaverse Content (don't support the creator though.)

I hope you all have a great time. Feel free to interact, not just about writing! Live your life and farewell for now!

#writeblr #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing #fanfic #writing life #readers of tumblr #reading #hatsune miku #vocaloid miku #miku #miku hatsune #vocaloid

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movedraptor5913 · 2 years ago

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So about them Uptie 4 costs:

Brain fried like egg trying to math this so late at night. Despite my knee-jerk reaction when I first saw these prices, it doesn't actually seem too horrid. As long as you're not also trying to spark every new thing that comes out in an effort to avoid the gacha in the gacha game or trying to be a completionist and uptie everything to max without grinding or spending.

(Before we get into the rest of it, this isn't going to cover the grind that leads up to Uptie 4. Everything in the game currently is beatable with Uptie 3 units and whatever you can scrounge up for EGO, so Uptie 4 is optional as of time of writing. This is just going to cover getting from 3 to 4.)

Not accounting for resources you get from the gacha (random amounts of Egoshards from dupes and an amount of Thread when your Ideality expires), an endgame F2P can get:

18 - 27 Thread per day from Luxcavation with bonuses (18 is more sustainable for module usage, so we'll say 126 Thread per week)

1 Egoshard crate from daily missions, making it 7 per week

2 Egoshard crates from weekly missions

22.5 Egoshard crates from MD2 Hard with full bonuses (13.5 crates if it's three boosted Normal runs instead, then another 3 crates per extra run afterwards)

A crate can be 1-3 shards, so it comes out to 31-93 Egoshards out of 31 crates weekly, averaging at around 62 Egoshards per week. Excess shards can be made into Thread, if needed.

Assuming you're not trying to spark any units (and, again, not accounting for stuff from the gacha), an endgame F2P player can get about one 3-star unit that was T3 up to T4 per week, with a chance to have resources left over to uptie an extra unit every other week without too much extra grind. Similar situation for TETH EGOs at ~1/week but less so for HEs, which will need another day or three unless you grind more. If you're short on Thread as a F2P, Luxcavation is better than MD2 in terms of module cost.

If you bought the pass, multiply the number of crates you get by 3. So about 93 crates per week (with an extra 3 every other week), ranging from 93-279 Egoshards and averaging at 186. A player with a paid battle pass can get at least one 3-star up to T4 from T3 in a week comfortably, with potential range to extend to two in one week without extra grind. The EGO situation doesn't change much though. A bit over one TETH a week, but only about one HE a week due to the extra costs. If you need more Thread and have the time, your modules are more efficient at MD2 than Luxcavation. If you don't have the time, Luxcavation is still good as long as you have the bonus.

The only issue I can see with the costs for Uptie 4 is that it makes it harder to experiment outside of a team you're used to, at least right now anyway. If you have meta units, you're less likely to want to grind materials to upgrade your non-meta units when it takes about a week to grind resources for your existing team and more units are still coming out that will need even more resources to get up from T1. Then again, you do still get some upgrade materials from excess items from the gacha, so your resources aren't coming exclusively from grinding unless you want them to be.

Overall, this feels like a "Project Moon saw people at the end waiting for more content and remembered they're making a gacha game" type of move. I wouldn't be shocked if they dropped the prices due to complaints, but they may be better off giving us a Luxcavation with better rewards.

#limbus company #project moon #uptie 4

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drpeppertummy · 1 year ago

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Pls do Leon for all ;; I love this man so much

ALL,,,,,,,,,, i was gonna tell u to come back with less but u know what . hes my special little guy im going for it [under a cut for 8 million miles length, warning for various bad eating habits, mentions of past abuse/trauma, addiction, self loathing, etc]

🎵 Do they have a noisy tummy? Is there anything unique or notable about the sounds their tummy makes? - i dont think theres anything too special about his tummy noises but it does have a lot to say. he either neglects to eat or eats absolute garbage, has a tendency to eat too much garbage in one sitting, chews a lot of gum (alternative to smoking) & gets bloaty from it, etc he does not treat his poor tummy kindly & it has no issue with speaking up about it

🏃 Do they eat faster or slower than average? If so, are there consequences? - he tends to eat way too fast & winds up 1. full of air and 2. too full bc he ate too fast for the fullness to catch up with him until its too late

🤬 How do they act when they're hungry? When they're too full? Which is worse? - he tends to be relatively quiet in his suffering so neither is awful. he forgets/works through/skips meals often enough that its just standard business for him, he'll be tired & achy & low energy but not That much more than usual. too full is probably worse bc a belly full of crap may incapacitate him for a while & then hes all sad & miserable

🥺 How do they feel emotionally when they eat too much? - shitty ! his lousy ex husband bill always made him feel awful about himself for overeating, putting on weight, etc & that mean-ass voice is still in his head. & he also feels like a stupid asshole for putting himself into that situation

🫢 Do they have any kind of belly kink or awareness of it? Do any of the characters around them? - i dont think so, although shel is very fond of his tummy but not necessarily in a kink way

📅 How frequently do they get into tummy shenanigans? - All The Dam Time [see first question] its rare for his tummy to Not feel at least a little crappy or be at least a little bloaty

🫥 Are they able to hide their hunger? Do they try to? - he tries & he usually succeeds at least until his belly starts growling enough to notice. cant hide it from shelly tho that guy can read him like a book

🤢 Are they able to hide it when they're too full? Do they try to? - Not At All. he tries to downplay it but he cant even try to hide it bc its useless. his tummy sticks out so much

🛌 What's the number one thing they want when they're too full? (belly rubs, sleep it off, lay down, etc) - mostly he just wants Comfort. wants someone to hold him so gentle. & if he feels all yucky n queasy he wants to sleep it off

🕒 What's the longest they've gone without eating? How did they feel? - probably like a day and brother . He Did Not Feel Awesome

break bc it straight up will not let me put all this in one block

🥘 What's the most they've eaten in one sitting? How did they feel afterwards? - i have 2 scenarios in my brain. one is the time someone talked him into weight watchers & he snapped like 3 days in & ate a ton of random crap in the middle of the night and the other is eating an entire pizza in one evening for no good reason. hes a little guy and in both scenarios his belly is so distended he can barely move. hurts and feels like a dumbass

🍽️ What's the most they can eat without getting a bellyache? - Good Quastion it depends on What hes eating. i think if he goes out for lunch somewhere & gets like a decent-sized sandwich & fries or some shit he can finish the whole thing & be just about at his limit before it becomes uncomfortable

🛑 Do they tend to stop eating when they're comfortably full, or do they keep going? Why? - he has a tendency to go overboard for various reasons. knows the food wont stay good any longer, eating his feelings, cant stop picking at it, etc

🧑‍⚕️ Do they usually ask for comfort when they don't feel good, or does somebody just know to comfort them? - hes too ashamed to ask for comfort. he feels awful making anyone worry about him. lucky for him shel knows when he needs a little extra care

💝 Do they want comfort when they don't feel good--even if they won't admit it--or do they prefer to deal with it alone? - he wants comfort So Bad even tho he doesnt think he deserves it & doesnt wanna worry anyone he wants nothing more than to be held & comforted when he feels shitty

😢 Are there any specific foods that upset their belly? - i dont think theres anything really Specific & his body is so used to eating like shit that its more the quantity of whatever hes eating than the food itself

🎈 Do they ever find themselves feeling bloated from something other than food? (swallowed air, too much liquid, period, illness, etc) - swallowed air is a big one, both bc of the fast eating & the gum, and liquid is also one. it doesnt really come up in my writing much but he is a (semi-recovering) alcoholic & this naturally causes some considerable bloating

🍎 If the goal was to eat as much of one food as possible, what food would they choose? Why? - i dont know if its the Best choice but i think hed go fries. that guy can put away some fries. even when his belly is absolutely stuffed he cant stop pickin at fries

👕 Have they ever had a belly-induced wardrobe malfunction? (popped button, shirt riding up, etc) How did they feel about it? - almost certainly. his empty tummy is nothing to write home about but it gets Impressively big, bordering on looking pregnant, if hes really full/bloated. i dont have a specific scenario in mind but whatever it was hed be absolutely mortified, even if nobody witnessed it

😈 Have they ever gotten into tummy shenanigans on purpose, for their own pleasure or somebody else’s? - no. he doesnt need to tho bc it happens by accident enough

😝 How would they feel if someone teased them for being hungry? For being too full? - he can laugh at himself a little when hes hungry but if someone teased him for overeating hed probably cry

😟 Are they shy about their belly for any reason? - he Hates his belly he thinks its so ugly. all he can see when he looks at it is this pasty doughy un-masculine mommybelly. he hates how chubby it is he hates the stretch marks he hates his dumb little appendectomy scar & bill Really hammered it into his head that his body is unappealing, esp after having their baby

🖼️ How would someone close to them describe their belly, in appearance or otherwise? - to contrast that last response, shel would describe his tummy as Absolutely Adorable and soft and pillowy and warm and squeezable and very nice to touch

🕴️ Is there a certain type of situation that frequently results in tummy shenanigans for them? - some days he'll go to wawa after work for a snack/dinner & overestimate how much he can eat bc hes starving. winds up getting a bunch of greasy crap & giving himself a bellyache

⚖️ Has their weight changed at all over the years? How do they feel about it? - hes never been really skinny but hes def put on some weight over the years. he mightve been ok with it if bill hadnt been so awful to him about it but alas

🫄 Has there ever been a time when their belly was so bloated that it got in their way/made a task difficult? - his belly sticks out Far when hes really bloated. things like washing the dishes when his bellys pushing against the counter, trying to reach to the bottom of the washing machine, etc become Awkward And Uncomfortable

🧐 Is it obvious when they’ve overeaten, be it by the appearance of their belly, their behavior, etc? - even if his belly wasnt Crazy Distended i think itd still be clear that whatevers in there is weighing him down, esp if its something really heavy thats got him feeling kinda queasy

🍔 Has another person ever caused them to overeat deliberately or unintentionally? - shel has def gotten him to eat too much unintentionally. not his fault he wants leon to eat good food for once🤷

🫧 How do they feel about burping in front of others? Does it happen often? - i think it happens fairly frequently with the amount of air he swallows & he tries to keep it quiet or swallow it back down bc hes a little embarrassed about it

☹️ Have they ever forced themself to finish eating something that they didn’t want to finish? - probably, if he didnt think he was gonna be able to save it for later. doesnt wanna waste it & if nobodys around to share it with hes gonna cram it in

😍 Does anybody give their belly extra attention even when it feels perfectly fine? How do they feel about it? - shel is all over his tummy he Loves that thang. leons all bashful about it but it Does make him feel loved & it helps to combat some of those negative thoughts since shels affection is so genuine

💭 Have they ever had a memorable tummy shenanigans incident that other people still bring up to this day? - i think he once overate at a work party & popped a button upon sitting down. hell on earth humiliation. one of his annoying coworkers still brings it up from time to time. he wants to bite her head off

🚗 Does their tummy get upset from things other than food or hunger? (nerves, vehicles, etc) - he gets carsick if hes not the one driving. nerves probably also but thats indistinguishable from any other aspect of his day to day life

🛏️ Does anybody ever use their tummy as a pillow? If so, how do they feel about it? What’s it like for the other person? - shellyyyyy i just Know shels using his belly as a pillow its so soft & plush & cozy he'll fall asleep on it so fast esp bc leons playing with his hair while hes layin there. & then leons Stuck There. he thinks its kinda sweet tho

🙄 Is there a certain type of recurring tummy shenanigan that they’re notorious for? - everything .

🫱 Do they like having their belly touched? In what circumstances, if any? - hes a little skittish about it even with shel bc of The Insecurity & also bc bill would like jab n pinch him so sometimes he still flinches a little (shel wants to hunt bill down & skin him alive every time that happens) but he Does like when shel rubs his belly once he settles into it

#message #xleonx #xshelx #THANK YOU ................................ SORRY IF THIS IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE #some of the questions become a little repetitive when its all applied to one character but we make do #ask game replies

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