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paddockletters · 12 hours

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shattered hearts | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you break free from a toxic relationship, embarking on an exhilarating journey of self-discovery

warning: emotional abuse, infidelity, toxic relationship, angst

author's note:this was hard, so hard omg... as I always say, english is not my first language so sorry me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

I met Lando when we were barely out of high school. Back then, he was just a kid with dreams and a mischievous smile that made you feel like you were the only one in the world that mattered. For a while, I believed that was true. But as the years went by, I learned that Lando's smile wasn’t mine alone—it was shared with others, stolen moments behind my back. And somehow, I was always the one left picking up the pieces.

Our relationship was a whirlwind, the couple everyone thought would either crash or last forever. We did crash—over and over again. But somehow, Lando always found a way to convince me to come back.

“I’m sorry,” he’d say, voice low and pleading after one of his inevitable affairs. “But you know you’re my number one, right? None of them matter like you do.”

He’d wrap his arms around me, pull me close, and somehow, I’d believe him. I had to because after eight years of being with him, I didn’t know who I was without him.

The first time he cheated, I was devastated. It was in his early F1 days, just as his fame started to sink in. He swore it was a one-time thing that it didn’t mean anything. And like a fool, I believed him. But it didn’t stop. It never stopped. There was always another girl, another excuse, another lie wrapped up in the promise that I was still the "main one."

One particular night, I remember the argument that nearly broke us for good. Lando had been out late, and I found out through a mutual friend that he had been seen with another girl. Again. When he came home, reeking of alcohol and guilt, I confronted him.

“You said you were going to change, Lando!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “You promised me, over and over again, but nothing ever changes!”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You always come back. You always forgive me,” he shot back, arms crossed, his face a mask of irritation.

His words stung like a slap to the face. I wanted to scream, to leave right then and there. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because a part of me still loved him, or maybe it was the idea of him—the boy I met before the fame, before the lies.

As the years rolled on, our friends saw the cracks. One night during a get-together at a bar, I tried to put on a brave face. I thought maybe if I acted normal, I could convince myself everything was fine. But when Jess pulled me aside, her expression serious, I knew I couldn’t hide anymore.

“Why do you keep letting him treat you like this?” she asked, frustration evident in her voice. “You deserve so much better, and he’s just going to keep doing this until you realize it.”

“Maybe he’ll change. I can’t just throw away eight years,” I replied defensively. “We have a history.”

“You mean a history of him cheating on you? You have to stop putting up with this, or you’re going to lose yourself,” she insisted, shaking her head.

I didn’t have an answer for her, not really. I just wanted to believe that things would get better. That Lando would see how much I cared and finally choose me over everyone else.

Our mutual friends began to pick sides. Some supported me, while others were loyal to Lando. It was suffocating, a constant tug-of-war that made everything feel so much worse. I felt more isolated than ever, even when surrounded by people.

Then there was the jealousy. Lando was incredibly possessive, especially with his fellow drivers. During one race weekend, I was talking to Charles, who had just finished his session. Lando walked in, and his eyes darkened.

“Why are you always chatting up the other drivers?” he snapped, pulling me aside as Charles walked away, giving us a questioning look.

“Because they’re my friends, Lando! Just because you’re in F1 doesn’t mean I can’t talk to anyone else. You’re not my warden,” I shot back, feeling the anger rise in my chest.

“Don’t act like I’m overreacting. You know how it looks,” he hissed, jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I knew he was being unreasonable, but I was too exhausted to fight back. Our friends watched the tension build, hoping to intervene. I overheard Max once whisper to Lando.

“You need to chill, mate. You’re pushing her away.”

But Lando always had an excuse for everything, often deflecting blame onto me.

“You just don’t understand how this world works!” he’d shout, leaving me feeling small and defeated.

The cycle continued, and I found myself in the same painful arguments over and over. One night, after he came home late from a party, I had finally reached my breaking point.

“Do you even care about how I feel?” I shouted, my voice echoing through our apartment. “You’re always out with other girls! How am I supposed to trust you?”

“I told you, you’re the main one! None of them matter!” he retorted, but his words felt hollow to me.

We spent that night in silence, and I knew I had to make a decision. I just didn’t know how to let go.

The more time passed, the more I began to distance myself from Lando. Therapy helped. I began to see the truth behind his words and actions. The way he manipulated me, made me feel guilty for his mistakes. The way he made it seem like I was the one at fault for staying, like I was to blame for the pain he caused me.

During one therapy session, I shared my frustrations.

“I don’t know why I keep coming back to him. He’s hurt me so many times, and I just can’t let go.”

The therapist asked me one simple question: “Do you love him, or are you just scared of being without him?”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know the answer.

One evening after another brutal fight, I finally left. For good this time. I packed my bags while he watched, silent for once. Maybe he thought I’d come back, just like I always did. But this time was different. I walked out the door, leaving behind eight years of memories, both good and bad.

The nights were long and lonely, and I often found myself thinking about the happy moments we had. One flashback struck me particularly hard: it was the first time he had taken me to the paddock during a race weekend, and we laughed like kids as he showed me around.

“Can you believe this is my life now?” he had said, beaming with pride. “I never would have thought I’d be racing in F1.”

“I always knew you could do it,” I replied, squeezing his hand.

But now, those memories felt tainted, and I needed to focus on myself. It wasn’t easy. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I had made the right decision. But with time, and with the help of my therapist, I started to heal. I began to see that I deserved better, that I deserved someone who would love me the way I had always wanted Lando to.

One evening, after finally leaving Lando for good, I found myself at a racing event with friends. It was a chance to distract myself from the whirlwind of emotions I was navigating. As I wandered through the paddock, I was drawn to the sound of laughter.

“Are you lost, or just overwhelmed by all this?” a smooth voice asked. I turned to see Pato O'Ward, the charming IndyCar driver, grinning at me. His eyes sparkled with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of something hopeful.

“I guess a little bit of both,” I replied, smiling back.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” he offered, his energy contagious. As we walked through the paddock, he shared stories about his racing experiences and the thrill of competing. It felt so refreshing to be around someone who was passionate and genuine, without the weight of expectations or drama.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself spending more time with Pato. He was everything I had needed—funny, respectful, and utterly devoted. He listened to me, understood my past, and never once made me feel like I was in a competition for his attention.

One night, after a thrilling race, he took me to a quiet spot overlooking the track. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about how important it is to find someone who truly sees you. I see you, and I want to be that person.”

His words resonated deep within me, filling the void Lando had left. In that moment, I knew I had found something special with Pato, something I had longed for but never thought I could have.

Meanwhile, Lando had his own set of problems. He was still juggling relationships, using his charm to keep people around while juggling jealousy over his fellow drivers. I heard from our mutual friends that he was still stuck in the same toxic patterns, always in and out of relationships, always claiming that I was the one who got away.

I remember a race weekend when Charles and Lando got into an argument. I was watching from the sidelines with Pato when Charles approached me, concern etched on his face.

“Are you okay? I know things with Lando have been… complicated,” he said, his gaze shifting to Lando, who was across the paddock, still fuming.

“I’m fine, really. I’ve moved on,” I assured him, but I could see the doubt in his eyes.

Later that evening, I got a message from Lando, who had obviously overheard the chatter.

“I know you’re happy with him, but you’re still mine. You always come back to me, remember?”

It took everything in me not to respond. I had a new life now, a new partner who respected me and didn’t cheat. Lando’s words were just echoes of the past.

Fast forward to our wedding day. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my veil, my heart racing with excitement. Pato had become my rock, my partner in every sense of the word. I knew this was the right choice, and my heart was finally at peace.

Then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Lando.

“I heard you’re getting married. Just wanted to say, I hope you’re happy. But I still think about you. We could’ve had it all, you know.”

I stared at the message, my heart pounding. For a moment, I considered replying. But then I remembered all the sleepless nights, the tears, the heartbreak, and all the promises he had broken.

“Too late,” I typed back, hitting send before I could second-guess myself.

As I walked down the aisle, Pato’s face lit up with joy, and I couldn’t help but smile back. When he took my hands in his, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t known in years.

The ceremony was beautiful, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t felt in years. When Pato took my hands in his, I knew I was finally moving forward.

As we exchanged vows, Lando’s presence lingered in the back of my mind, but I let it go.

“I promise to love you through every challenge and to celebrate every victory,” he said, his eyes shining with sincerity.

“I promise to choose you every day for the rest of my life,” I replied, my voice steady and full of conviction.

We sealed our vows with a kiss, and I felt liberated. Lando was no longer my story; I was the author of my own life now, and it was a beautiful beginning with Pato. With him by my side, I was ready to embrace the future we would build together, thriving in a relationship based on trust, respect, and love.

As time passed, I learned to appreciate the small moments—the laughter, the late-night talks, the shared dreams of a future together. Pato supported my passions and encouraged me to pursue my own ambitions, something I had never fully experienced before.

One day, I received a message from Max: “Lando’s been a mess since your wedding. He didn’t handle it well.”

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. He had always taken me for granted, and now, he was the one left behind.

I hoped Lando would find peace eventually, but I also knew I couldn’t go back to the pain of our past. Pato was everything I needed, and I was determined to focus on our life together.

As our first anniversary approached, Pato planned a surprise getaway. “I want to celebrate us, everything we’ve built,” he said, a bright smile on his face.

We traveled to a beautiful beach destination, where we spent our days relaxing, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company. One night, under a sky full of stars, Pato took my hand and said, “You’ve changed my life for the better. I want to keep building this amazing life with you.”

I couldn’t hold back my tears. “You’ve shown me what real love looks like, Pato. I’m so grateful for you.”

His expression softened as he leaned in, kissing me gently.

Then, one day, I got a call from Lando.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice shaky.

“What do you want, Lando?” I replied, my heart racing.

“I just need to explain… things didn’t go as planned after you left. I’ve made mistakes, and I want you back.”

I paused, memories flooding back. “You had your chance, Lando. I can’t keep going back to the past. I’m happy now. I’ve moved on.”

“But I still love you!” he pleaded. “You were always my main one!”

His words echoed painfully in my mind, but I stood my ground. “You had your chance to prove that. You made your choice.”

The phone call ended, and I sighed with relief. I looked at Pato, who was sitting beside me, and smiled. I had made the right choice.

I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Lando was no longer a part of my narrative. My life was filled with the warmth and love Pato brought into it, and I was excited for the future we would continue to create together.

With Pato, I had learned to love again, not just him, but also myself. And that made all the difference.

Lando’s chapter had closed, and I was finally ready to start anew, with someone who truly valued me, not just as the ‘main one,’ but as the woman I had become.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 one shot #lando norris #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #landonorris #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen imagines #pato o'ward #pato o'ward x reader #pato o'ward x you

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belqva · 16 hours

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₊˚⊹౨ THE MORNING (R.C.) ৎ ₊˚⊹

warnings: drugs, alcohol, toxic friends, intoxication, language, dealing, one mention of reader skipping meals

summary: At a wild party, you confront a tense reunion with Rafe Cameron, your best friends ex, while reluctantly buying drugs for a friend. The events of the night leave you more confused than ever.

pairing: rafe cameron x female!reader

word count: 1.6k

a/n: I definitely wanted this to be longer but oh what can I do 😔🖐️ it’s becoming a habit of mine to write fics and leave them on a cliffhanger lol sorry !! I feel like it gives me motivation that I’ll write a sequel in the future yk? Anyway the reader is in a really toxic female friend group and two of the girls are named Taylor and Anya but you can just ignore that if u want to <33 as always I hope u enjoy!!🤍

The overwhelming smell of weed, alcohol, and expensive, overly lavish perfume filled the dimly lit room of the massive mansion hosting another one of the infamous Friday night parties. A party isn’t a party without booze and molly, right? Some spoiled rich kid was celebrating nothing in particular, just throwing a party because they could. The entire house was packed with girls in their skimpiest outfits and boys flaunting wristwatches that probably cost more than your monthly salary. You could barely hear yourself think as loud trap music pounded over the constant chatter and drunken shouting. The dim house flickered with occasional strobe lights, the only real illumination being from the ceiling light, modified to shift between dark blue and red.

It wasn’t really your scene. You weren’t a party animal or particularly popular. You hovered somewhere between the Pogue and Kook worlds. Your family wasn’t exactly poor, but they didn’t have enough money to land you the "full Kook" status either. However, most of your friends were full-on Kooks—girls who got Range Rovers for their sixteenth birthdays. You had known them since kindergarten, and despite your differences, you’d tagged along with them throughout middle and high school. You fit in well enough, thanks to your natural looks and careful attention to fashion—even if it meant skipping meals to buy a nice dress.

So here you were, like many Friday nights before, out with the same group of girls. Most of them were either drunk, high, or both. The only one who wasn’t fully wasted was Anya. She was the closest thing your group had to a leader and the main reason you hadn’t been kicked out of their tight-knit circle. Anya was smart and stunningly gorgeous, with her silky blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She was effortlessly perfect in a way that made everyone want to be her. And, as you’d noticed tonight, she was completely off her game.

She sat beside you on the expensive beige couch, her mood noticeably different from usual. She’d had a few shots and maybe smoked a little, but nothing more—uncharacteristic for her at a party like this. Concern tugged at you, and you leaned toward her.

"Is everything okay, Ani?" you asked, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders and resting your chin on her.

She shrugged, her icy blue eyes avoiding yours. Anya was wearing a pink tube top, a mini leather skirt, and platform heels—an outfit far too gorgeous for a casual party. It was obvious she was dressing to impress someone. You knew her well enough to see that something was wrong.

"Come on, tell me," you pressed, trying to lighten the mood. "Future Anya will be mad if I don’t cheer you up because, as you’d say, 'we only have a limited number of Friday nights in our short youth.'"

Anya cracked a small smile. "Yeah, you’re right," she said softly, "she would be mad."

"So, what’s going on?" you asked again. "You can tell me. I won’t say anything to the others."

She hesitated, fidgeting with her fingers. You watched her closely, sensing her inner turmoil. Finally, she sighed. "Did you see who's selling the sugar tonight?" she asked quietly, referring to the drugs.

You shook your head. "No, I haven’t really walked around much." You felt uneasy. The last thing you wanted to get involved in was drugs, even if most of your friends were on a first-name basis with dealers.

Anya bit her lip. "It’s Rafe."

Your heart skipped a beat. Rafe Cameron. The name brought back a flood of memories. He was the golden boy, the heartbreaker, and for a while, he was Anya’s. They had dated for a few months during senior year, and she had been head over heels for him. But Rafe had shattered her heart, and she had never fully recovered. Now it made sense why she was acting out of character tonight.

"Rafe’s here?" you asked, not sure how to feel about the revelation.

Before Anya could answer, Taylor—one of the drunker members of your group—stumbled over and collapsed into your lap, giggling uncontrollably. You caught her before she fell completely, but the interruption was enough to break the moment between you and Anya.

Anya’s expression hardened immediately, her walls going back up. "Great," she muttered under her breath, getting up from the couch abruptly. "I’m going to get a drink."

"Anya—" you started, but she was already weaving through the crowd.

Taylor, oblivious to the tension, grinned up at you. "Why so serious, babe?" she slurred, patting your cheek playfully. "Come on, have some fun!"

You sighed, helping her sit up properly. "Maybe later," you mumbled. Your mind was still on Anya, on Rafe. You couldn’t just let it go. If he was the one dealing tonight, no wonder Anya was upset.

As if reading your mind, Taylor handed you a crumpled hundred-dollar bill. "Can you grab something for me? He won’t sell to me anymore, I’ve been back too many times."

Normally, you would’ve refused. But this was your chance to figure out what was really going on. "Yeah, sure," you said, standing up.

"Really? You?" Taylor blinked, surprised at your sudden willingness. "Well, okay! Don’t get lost, babe," she teased, giving you a playful shove.

Ignoring her, you made your way through the crowd toward the back of the mansion where the drug deals usually went down. Your heart pounded in your chest as you neared the area. And then, there he was — Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was seated at a table surrounded by his usual entourage. His shirt was crisp and white, his hair neatly shaved, and he looked more muscular than you remembered. He had a dark, commanding presence, the kind that made it hard to look away. He was cutting lines of powder, expertly dividing them into neat little baggies.

You swallowed hard, your nerves on edge. This was a bad idea, but there was no turning back now.

As you approached the table, Rafe’s sharp blue eyes locked onto you, freezing you in place. He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting you.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was cold, and for a moment, you wished you could disappear.

"I—uh—I’m here to buy," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the music.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, scanning you from head to toe. You felt vulnerable under his gaze, like he could see straight through you. After a tense moment, he leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Since when do you do this shit?" he asked, his tone dripping with skepticism.

"I don’t," you blurted. "It’s not for me. One of my friends asked me to—"

Rafe cut you off, holding up a hand. "Let me guess. Taylor?"

You nodded, feeling even more ridiculous. Why was he making this so hard?

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Of course. Always sending someone else to do her dirty work." He leaned forward, his eyes still trained on you. "You shouldn’t be mixed up in this, Y/N."

His use of your name surprised you. You hadn’t thought he even knew who you were. "I—I’m not. I’m just doing a favor," you muttered.

Rafe reached for the hundred-dollar bill you were holding out, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. His touch was electric, sending a jolt through you that you weren’t expecting.

"Here’s the thing," Rafe said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don’t want to see you coming back here again. Got it?"

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. "What?"

Rafe leaned in closer, his gaze piercing. "This isn’t your scene. You don’t belong here, and trust me, you don’t want to get involved with people like me. Stay away from this stuff, Y/N."

You didn’t know how to respond. There was something unsettling about the way he was looking at you, something that made your pulse race for reasons you couldn’t explain. Was he really concerned about you? Or was this some twisted game he was playing?

Before you could say anything else, he handed you the tiny baggies. "Take this to Taylor. And remember what I said."

You nodded quickly, snatching the drugs and turning on your heel, eager to escape the intensity of his gaze. As you weaved your way back through the crowd, your mind was racing. What had just happened? Why had Rafe Cameron, of all people, decided to lecture you? And why did it feel like he cared?

Back at the couch, Taylor greeted you with a sloppy grin, grabbing the drugs from your hand. "You’re the best!" she slurred, not noticing the dazed look on your face.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe. The way he had looked at you, the way his voice had dropped to a low, dangerous whisper—it all left you feeling more confused than ever. You shouldn’t care about him. He was trouble, the kind of trouble you had no business getting involved with.

Yet, deep down, you knew this wasn’t the last time you’d find yourself in front of Rafe Cameron.

The night drew on, but you couldn’t shake the encounter with Rafe. His words echoed in your mind, conflicting emotions pulling at you. You should have been worried about Anya, about her unresolved feelings for him, but your thoughts kept circling back to his piercing gaze, the way he warned you. It was almost as if he had seen you, really seen you, beyond just another party girl.

And that was dangerous.

SHARING THIS, ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS OR A TRANSLATION OF THEM WITHOUT CONSENT ON THIS OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN !!!

THE PLOT OF OUTER BANKS OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS, EXCEPT FOR THE ONES CREATED BY ME, DO NOT BELONG TO ME THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FANFICTION !!!

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signanothername · 3 days

Note

So, I know you've admitted to never reading For the Forgotten Ones, but I will note it has some very fanon Nightmare + MTT. And, so, it made me wonder;

the concept is just Ink being stopping from destroying his own SOUL by Nightmare, who takes him in. Ink ends up as a healer, before eventually discovering that he's Protector of Creation. Loosest way to describe the plot as possible. Could go more in detail if you'd ever like. BUT BACK TO THE THING I WAS WONDERING!!!!!!!!

How would that go with your version of Nightmare and the gang? With Nightmare finding the small, skeleton (small enough to be a kid), who has almost no knowledge of how the word works, and stubbornly refuses to ever fight or hurt or destroy, to the point he learns green magic, and barely anything else (he only learns his own magic aside from green), and Ink wants them all to be okay at the end of the day. How would that go with him? Even more so, what about MTT? In the story, Horror's the most chill with Ink, they're vibing. Dust/Murder is kinda vibing with Ink, arguably the two closest to Ink in the beginning. Killer is.....it takes a good minute for him to warm up to this one(Will say, at some point Ink falls into another AU o accident when opening a portal for the first time, nearly dies, is soaking wet ad scared, and he's given one of MTT's jackets, AND IT GOES DOWN TO HIS KNEES, I NEED YOU TO PICTURE THIS PLEASE....it was Killer's). By the end they're found family, but I really love your version of everyone, and I started rereading ftfo, when I wondered how different this could be if it were a DIFFERENT multiverse, a.k.a., your iteration?

Oh it’s definitely extremely different chhchc

I’m sorry to say that my multiverse isn’t much of a merciful one hchchchchc (I wouldn’t say my multiverse is a sad one, but it’s certainly a bittersweet one)

Biggest difference? Nightmare won’t even think of getting Ink under him or get him inside his castle to begin with

To Nightmare, That’s just another random Sans in this vastly wide multiverse, he already got 3, he doesn’t need another, sure, the circumstances of this particular Sans are interesting to say the least, but by that point, there’s nothing Ink could offer Nightmare at all except for his misery and negativity, but again, he already got 3 negativity meals that continuously feed him anyway, and this entire place is nothing but white void, so Nightmare has nothing interesting to be offered, there is literally no reason Nightmare would feel like he needs to change his routine to include a random skeleton who’s best they ever done is sit down and sulk

And hey, if being in this white void makes them miserable then who’s Nightmare to stop them from being miserable? :)

He’ll come in, take one look at them and their Au, get out, simple as that, and even if this random Sans had something to offer, Nightmare would simply settle for making a deal and leaving them there (no open positions for another member in his gang)

So basically the entire plot of the fic won’t even happen with my Nightmare, the fic is just gonna be reduced to a oneshot wheeze gchchcch

But for the sake of this ask, let’s imagine that my Nightmare did actually take Ink in, let’s explore how that would go

Another big difference? It’s Killer that’s gonna “warm up” to Ink first, (ngl, never understood the notion of Killer being the aggressive one cchhcch), i put “warm up” in quotes cause in reality it’s less warming up and more like, “wow! A change of pace? Something new? Interesting gotta squeeze every info outta them and maybe even manipulate them to suit me and convenient me while i’m at it”

Killer is social in nature, and unless Ink somehow reminds him of his own misary, there’s no reason Killer would pass up the opportunity to see how this new guy ticks, he’d study Ink like an ant, dissect them in his mind even, i mean, Nightmare getting someone new? He knows Nightmare isn’t one who likes change in his routine so what’s the new guy got that actually caught Nightmare’s interest this much?

All that aside, Killer is actually extremely docile to anyone as long as they don’t push him or force something upon him, and even when pushed, Killer is surprisingly patient and would simply let them get it out of their system all while making it clear he wants to be left alone until he loses that patience, so unless Ink somehow genuinely and actively pushes Killer’s buttons, he’ll never get on Killer’s nerves/bad side, Killer would simply treat Ink like he treats anyone, no genuine connection, just another thing (not person) to study and analyze

If Killer were to attack Ink in any way, it’s less aggression, and more “let’s see what this guy can do” just a quick test for his new lab rat

Killer wouldn’t form any genuine emotional connection with Ink, to Killer, Ink is just another toy Nightmare wanted to get for himself, and that’s talking about Stage 2, Stage 1 is… outta commission, I don’t think Ink would truly have the chance to meet Stage 1 Killer, meeting Stage 3 is a big possibility, but let’s hope Ink doesn’t have to cause I don’t think Ink would know how to deal with him

Murder and Horror are a different story, Horror wouldn’t want anything to do with the new guy, he already got a ton to deal with, he’s not interested to add another problem to his pile of problems, I wouldn’t say Horror would be aggressive, more passive aggressive, Horror is the old tired guy™ in the group, he’s got a splitting headache most of the time, a bitchy boss, hunger eating away at him and a Killer he would like to choke sometimes, he isn’t really in the mood to make friends

But as long as Ink doesn’t bother him, Horror would simply just co-exist with them, and even answer their questions or converse with them, but all in a “hurry up i want a nap” attitude

Horror has the capacity to warm up to Ink, but it’ll be a long slow journey till there, and Ink would have to do all the work cause Horror sure as hell won’t be the one trying to form a connection with him

Murder is a bit on the aggressive side, but not too much, just enough to make it very clear he isn’t up for making friends either, a bit of a cold shoulder if you will, but generally, Murder would just keep his distance, not trusting Ink too much, a bit paranoid about who he might be and why Nightmare brought them in considering they don’t look like they’d fit in their band of misfits at all

Still, Murder would warm up to Ink eventually if he truly realizes that Ink isn’t really that much of a bad guy, just another lost unfortunate soul that had miserable luck in life that Nightmare found them first

I’d say Murder is the one that might form a friendship with Ink, a twisted form of friendship where it’s “you’re now tolerable and so i might lend a hand here and there but every man for himself”, definitely not a rose filled friendship where it’s all rainbows, but a friendship nonetheless

But still, Murder is kinda the opposite to Killer, Killer is docile, Murder is hostile, so if Ink were to be hurt by one if the MTT first, it’s most likely Murder’s doing

But in general, it’s Killer that’s gonna help Ink “catch up” and get up to date on how things go around the castle and in general, it’s pretty much his job as he’s Nightmare’s right hand man, so if anything happens or if Ink steps outta line which could’ve been prevented had Killer done his job by properly introducing Ink to their “work flow”, it’s an 80% possibility that Killer is the one that’s gonna be in trouble

Don’t Imagine Killer doing his job in the sense of actual genuine love to help and more, cold distant “here’s how you can survive” without much emotion behind it even, just Killer smiling his dead smile and chatting it up, and even going as far as physical harm for “demonstration purposes”

When it comes to Nightmare and his relationship with Ink… there isn’t any, Nightmare sees Ink as another asset, another miserable soul to do his bidding, if Nightmare somehow deals with Ink’s refusal to hurt anyone then two things might happen:

1- Nightmare tortures Ink with his fear of white spaces and if things continue they way they do, and Nightmare reaches his limit, he’d simply try killing Ink off (now whether that would work is really up to you)

And

2- would let Ink warm up to MTT, then use them as scapegoats to force Ink to do what he wants by torturing them every time Ink decides to be stubborn (even going as far as making an example without any actual reason and demonstrating it by breaking one of MTT’s bones like twigs as Ink watches)

Now MTT would definitely start pressuring Ink to do his “job” to just murder someone or hurt them, as they aren’t looking forward to Nightmare torturing them just cause Ink wants to hold on to such delusional ideologies, and maybe even ending up feeling a lot of distaste for Ink and his behavior, their environment wasn’t meant for good intentions to blossom, and they’re gonna teach Ink that

If Ink somehow got stuck with Nightmare and his lil gang then man, I genuinely pity him

I feel like Ink would crave a tiny bit of genuine connection after being stuck in a white void for so long, but Nightmare and MTT don’t have that genuine connection, MTT are just roommates barely tolerating each other who live in absolute horrendous conditions under an abusive boss in an abusive environment, where the nicest most genuine thing one of them might do is tell you “hey don’t talk to boss today he’ll make you relive your worst nightmares, yeah, he’s in a mood today it seems”, and then there’s Nightmare who would make Ink extremely miserable and would use Ink’s fear of white spaces against him like the cruel sadistic bastard he is

Nightmare gang isn’t a found family, it’s a group of forced enslavement and labor, and there’s no escaping it

(The image of Killer’s jacket reaching Ink’s knees is really adorable tho, have a sketch for it :D)

#anothers ask #anothers art #ink sans #nightmare sans #killer sans #murder sans #dust sans #horror sans #murder time trio

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apostaterevolutionary · 1 day

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I am so sorry, apparently it’s 2024 and I’m arguing about dragon age again lmao. How did I get here! Why is this happening!! Time is a flat circle!!!

Anyway. People can feel how they want about the past games not mattering in this game. If you’re cool with it, I’m happy for you. But there’s one particular argument in defence of this choice that is really, really bothering me and I have to rant

The thing I keep seeing is “well all this other stuff has nothing to do with the main plot or Rook, so it should be cut” and that’s. Not a good way to tell stories in my opinion. Because here’s the thing: it’s not about the Big Overall Plot. It’s about the characters that live in this world, big and small

I’m going to use the example of Varric and Hawke cause I think it’s the easiest to explain quickly. Varric is a storyteller. That’s the defining trait of his character. He tells stories, and sometimes they’re true and sometimes they’re not and sometimes it’s something in between. In DA2 he tells you about his brother. In inquisition, he talks about hawke and there’s banter about several of the companions. Most of these are just little one liners that don’t “serve the overall plot” but they serve Varric’s character

And that matters

So if we take this character known for telling stories about people that have been in his life, well, he largely can’t do that now. How can he talk about Hawke, someone who can be a very close friend of his, without even their gender being a choice you can select? Or whether Varric should be saying ‘is’ or ‘was’ about them? How can he talk about the companions in DA2 or inquisition when a lot of them don’t have to be recruited or can die? Will he limit himself to only characters that are guaranteed to be a part of it and alive? Or is it that he and Rook will have such a shallow relationship that Varric, of all characters, never talks about his life and past exploits?

Or has Varric as a character changed so much that he doesn’t even want to tell stories anymore? That Hawke living or dying means nothing to him? That the friendships he built with people in 2 games mean nothing to him? That he’s become literally unrecognizable?

This is where the problem is. Sure, Rook maybe doesn’t care about these people they’ve never met. But do they care about Varric? What about if a companion mentions an old friend of theirs, talks about an experience they had that made them who they are - is that only okay if that experience isn’t from a previous game? Or are all the characters so flat that we never learn anything about their connections to others outside of Rook? Is this story SO focused on this player character and this plot that NOTHING else matters, even within the world, and there’s no depth to be found in any of the characters that feature in it?

Writing characters so that they only ever talk about things that “directly serve the plot” is how you get flat, unremarkable, boring, forgettable characters. And that’s not something I would have accused bioware of doing even if some instalments are stronger in this area than others. But it sounds like that’s what they’re doing here, at least with the past characters. Cause sure, maybe Morrigan is so closed off she’ll never mention her son and partner. That’s believable, even if iffy given that they’ve said she’s going to be more involved than we think. But Varric? VARRIC??? Never mentioning ANY of the people he used to spend time with and care about except Solas and maybe some of the inquisition characters that can’t die or not be recruited but also carefully skirting around what happened to them in the game? That’s literally not the same character

And I would expand this to like. A letter mentioning this or a codex mentioning that, or ambient dialogue about so and so - that makes the world feel deep and those random, unimportant NPCs feel richer by connecting them to the larger world. It’s not about “serving the plot”, it’s about making your world and characters deep enough that they feel real, lived in, and like something we can actually care about

#I am so mad that I’m mad about this but I’m mad about this lmao #I wasn’t even decided on the game!!! I was cautiously waiting and seeing! and now I’m MAD!!!!! why would they do this!!!#anyway idk I just needed to get this out cause I’m doom scrolling too much and some of the defences of it just don’t make sense with good #storytelling and I’m upset that people don’t see that #again if you don’t care I’m happy for you please continue being unbothered #but god I am so bothered because I want good characters and wold building gdi #the plot is honestly so secondary like if the plot is ass but the characters are amazing I’d pick that ove good plot and shallow characters #every time #okay I need to get ready for bed and my head hurts lmao #I also don’t know how to do a cut in mobile anymore so sorry #long post #dragon age #veilguard #veilguard spoilers #text #shut up nerd #bioware critical

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letmeinuroceanswim-blog · 3 days

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The price of being bad (Dad’s best friend!Keegan Russ x F!Reader)

NSFW! Smut (18+)

Summary: Skipping Uni to blow some guy backfired after getting caught by your father. Unable to face you, he passes the responsibility to his best friend, Keegan, to teach you a lesson. How was he to know what kind of lesson you’d be receiving? ;)

Warnings: AgeGap (reader is in her 20s, Keegan is 39) Oral m!receiving, throat fucking, p in v (unprotected, always practice safe sex irl!), name calling, use of ‘good girl’, swearing, roughish sex, kind of non-con but not really? reader is kind of a brat, and Keegan’s a bit of a pervert! I’m sorry if I missed anything!

Missing university lectures was something you had grown accustomed to, and up until this point, you thought it didn’t matter to anyone, given that you were an adult and the tuition was being covered—albeit by your father. Still, you were an adult, and unlike school, where every absence was meticulously noted and punished, university operated very differently.

There was much more freedom, your education was your responsibility and it was your choice if you wanted to waste your father’s money and not turn up. So by default, the lecturers and seminar leaders wouldn’t care, they were getting paid regardless. It was no issue for your father anyway, he worked for the military, they get paid a lot, right?

This is why, like on most days, you opted to stay in and invited a guy you found moderately attractive over while your father was out with his colleagues. When you sent that message saying you were home alone, he wasted no time rushing over. It was a bit pathetic, but you couldn’t care less when you were horny yourself. The moment he arrived, you pulled him inside and quickly got his trousers off. He had no objections as you pushed him onto the couch, especially when you sank to your knees. With a deft touch to his length, giving it a few strokes, you took him into your mouth.

In all honesty, he wasn’t that big, much to your disappointment. But it just meant you could take all of him in your mouth with ease, leaving him a sputtering mess as you worked your magic.

But of course, it was just your luck, that it was this particular day that your university rang up your father, snitching on you and asking him why you hadn’t made many appearances and if it meant that you was dropping your course. To say the least, your father was fuming.

The sounds of the guy's gasps and whimpers completely overshadowed the rumble of your father's car arriving outside, along with the muffled noises escaping your lips as you bobbed your head. In the position you found yourself, there was no time to react as your father burst through the front door, his furious glare piercing through the air.

You gasped and jumped away from his dick, your mouth making a popping noise as you fell back on your arse as you stared at your father with wide eyes. ‘Shit shit shit shit!’

“What the hell-?!” The guy scrambled to his feet, rapidly fiddling with his zipper. You were so fucked.

Your father charged at him, seizing the back of his collar with a fierce grip and yanking him toward the open door. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and he instinctively raised his hands in a defensive gesture, his eyes wide with fear.

“Sir, I’m so-“ A startled yelp escaped him as your dad finally released his grip on the collar and shoved him out through the open door, his hands fumbling to fasten his trousers before your dad slammed the door with a resounding thud.

You sat there, heart racing, your eyes wide with panic as you slowly pushed yourself up off the floor. Your dad’s shoulders heaved with a simmering rage that sent a chill down your spine, and when he turned to face you, his glare was laced with venom. If looks could kill, you would have crumpled to the floor in an instant.

“You’ve got some serious explaining to do,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, jabbing a finger in your direction as he stormed toward you. He seized your arm, compelling you to sit on the couch.

You plopped down, the cushions enveloping you as a wave of shame washed over you, creeping up your spine like a cold draft.

“You think you can skip university, which I’m paying for, to suck some low life’s dick?!” He towered over you, his voice booming with a threatening edge. You swallowed hard, desperate to escape the fury blazing in his gaze.

“What on earth were you thinking?! I’m not pouring all this money into your education just for you to whore around!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died on your lips as he unleashed another round of shouting. It felt as if the very walls were trembling.

“Honestly, I can’t even bear to look at you right now. You’re grounded, and from now on, I’ll be the one driving you to and from university. No daughter of mine is going to fail because of this nonsense.” He turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. The depth of his anger was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

You rose to your feet, irritation bubbling up to replace your fear. “Are you kidding me?! I’m not a child anymore; you can’t just ground me!”

“I absolutely can and will! You live under my roof, so it’s my fucking rules that matter. Your age doesn’t change that.” He spun back to face you, his glare sharp enough to cut.

You crossed your arms defiantly, your brows furrowing in anger. “You can’t treat me like I’m still a kid!

“Enough! I am your father and you will listen! Go to your goddamn room. Now!” He gestured sharply toward the stairs, his furious eyes locked onto you as you stood there, mouth agape in disbelief.

After a tense moment of silence, frustration bubbled up inside you, and you let out an exasperated roar before stomping up the stairs. You clenched your jaw tightly, slamming your bedroom door with such force that it rattled the entire house.

Your dad exhaled a weary sigh, rubbing his face with his hands, the weight of the situation leaving him drained.

He sank onto the couch, hunched over with his head in his hands. He never imagined his little girl would act this way, especially engaging in… those kinds of activities. What father would? Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so upset if you weren’t skipping university and squandering his hard-earned money. “Damn kids…” he muttered under his breath, attempting to alleviate the throbbing headache by massaging his temples.

A knock at the front door jolted him from his thoughts, reminding him that Keegan had been waiting in his car. “It’s open,” he called out, letting out a sigh as he pushed himself up to head into the kitchen.

Keegan swung the door open, immediately spotting him reaching for a beer from the fridge.

“She causing more trouble?” Keegan inquired, shutting the door behind him as he sauntered into the room, leaning against the kitchen counter to observe your dad as he cracked open the beer and took a long swig. “You caught all that, huh?” your dad said, wiping his mouth as some of the beer dribbled down his chin.

Keegan laughed, nodding in agreement. “I saw the guy stumble out your front door, pants half-zipped.”

Your father let out a grunt, rubbing his temple as the headache intensified.

“You doing alright?” Keegan asked, tilting his head with concern. “Yeah, just… I wish she’d listen to me. I don’t want her to skip university for, well, you know…” he replied, shaking his head before taking another gulp of his beer.

“Well, you scared the guy shitless, so he won’t be back anytime soon,” Keegan chuckled, recalling how the guy had practically flung himself away, fumbling with his pants. Your dad couldn’t help but laugh too, remembering the panic in the guy’s eyes.

“What do you wanna do about it?” Keegan asked as your dad’s serious expression returned.

“I can’t even look at her right now. It’s one thing to pull that shit in my own house, but she’s squandering my money. I want her to get a solid education, you know? That’s why I invested everything into this,” he replied, downing the rest of his beer and tossing the empty can into the trash.

“I’m trying to remember a time when she wasn’t so goddamn bratty. I love her, so much, but Jesus does she piss me off.” He continued, pressing his hands against the counter. His frustration was palpable.

“Yeah, I remember that time we had to dash out of work to get her after she swiped your car and got pulled over.” Keegan chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Your dad rolled his eyes, a small, affectionate grin breaking through his annoyance. “Yeah, nearly gave me a damn heart attack.” He pursed his lips contemplating how to handle the situation with you. His gaze met Keegan’s bright blue eyes for a moment, an idea springing to mind.

Though Keegan was younger, they shared a strong bond. The military had forged a brotherhood among them, and he had grown to care for Keegan immensely. Over the years, Keegan had been the one to bail you out of numerous predicaments, and your father was grateful for that. That’s why he felt comfortable asking Keegan to step in. As your dad, you were less likely to heed his words, but Keegan had a better shot since you seemed to have a soft spot for him.

“Could you have a word with her? I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall lately; it’s like I’m dealing with a child. If you need to scare her a bit, go for it—just help me get her back on track.” He spoke earnestly, his eyes reflecting a hint of desperation.

Keegan paused for a moment, weighing his options on how to tackle the situation. After some thought, he nodded decisively. “Yeah, course. I’ll set her straight.” He agreed, pushing himself off the counter.

“Thank you, Keegan. Means a lot. She’s just so difficult.” Your dad exhaled in relief, also stepping away from the counter.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll do my best.” Keegan offered a small smile to him, making his way back to the living room to start heading to your room.

“I’ll be in the garage.” your dad called after him, releasing a breath as he reached for another beer from the fridge, seeking solace in the garage to clear his mind. He was thankful the situation was in Keegan’s hands now. One less thing to worry about, he hoped.

However, he was naïve. And very oblivious to the twitch on Keegan’s lips when your dad gave him the green light to go into your room.

When Keegan first met you, you became all he thought about. Your bratty behaviour was more endearing to him rather than irritating. He loved the way you smelled, even when you reeked of alcohol. He loved the way the skimpy dresses rode up your thighs when you sat in the backseat of your dads car as you pouted about being caught. The way your folded arms pushed your tits up all for him to see in the rearview mirror. He’d always have to tuck his erection up to his waistband to hide it from your father, who scolded you every time, blissfully unaware of Keegan’s filthy thoughts.

All those nights he had to come get you from whatever situation you had got yourself into with your dad, he wished he could of got you alone to fuck you in the backseat of his car, teach you a lesson. Fuck the brattiness out of you.

Even though you spoke to him with the same disrespect, as if you were a teenager, it didn’t deter his perverted thoughts spiralling him into a horny mess. Even at night, when he was alone with his thoughts, he’d fuck himself into his hand with pictures from your instagram on his phone. You were much younger than him, almost 20 years difference, which just made you all the more intangible. It only made him want you more. Though you weren’t innocent, you still radiated sweet-like ignorance to the world. It was difficult for him to describe, but he really wanted to corrupt you in a twisted way. Teach you to not be a little shit with his own methods.

And, unknowingly, your father had just given him the go ahead.

Without warning, Keegan opened your door without knocking, shutting it behind him with a loud slam.

You looked up from your phone, your laid position on the bed making your daringly short shorts rise up over your arse. Keegan already felt his pants tighten at the mere sight of you, that familiar brooding expression plastered over your face.

“Fuck off.” You groaned, turning to look back at your phone with annoyance.

Keegan stepped closer, folding his arms and staring down at you with his piercing blue eyes. “Heard you bunked off uni to suck dick. Am I right?”

You scoffed, refusing to meet his eyes as you continued to scroll on your phone. “I’m an adult, I can do whatever the hell I want.”

Keegan’s eyes narrowed as he leaned down slightly, snatching your phone away from you. This pissed you off. You sat up, an irritated frown taking over your features.

“You sure as hell ain’t acting like an adult.” Keegan retorted, pushing you back down by the shoulder as you went to grab your phone back. You gritted your teeth, folding your arms just the way he likes, much to his satisfaction.

“If you’re just going to give me a lecture like my dad, save it. I’m not a kid and you can’t tell me what to do.”

Keegan tilted his head, tossing your phone onto your desk before meeting your eyes. “I’m not here to lecture you. I’m here to teach you a lesson.”

He suddenly grabbed the back of your hair, pulling you forwards from your sitting position so you were on all fours, face to face with his growing erection.

You yelped in surprise at his strong grip, catching yourself from falling off the bed by gripping the edge. “What the fuck, Keegan?” You struggled in his grip, attempting to get up but grunted when he yanked you back down by your hair.

“If you wanna be a slut and suck cock instead of going to uni-“ He used his other hand to start unzipping his pants, causing your eyes to widen at the growing realisation of what was happening.

“-then you’re gonna suck cock like a slut.” He lowered the top of his trousers just above his knees, leaving him in his boxers with a growing wet patch of pre-cum. His erection was practically poking out the top of his waistband, and you felt your pussy suddenly clench as you marvelled at the size covered by the fabric. Still, you wanted to resist a bit more, unwilling to give in so easy.

“Let me go you fucking perv!” You screeched, attempting to release yourself from his hold but only being yanked down again by your hair, eliciting another grunt as his grip became firmer.

“Fucking bitch, you shut your mouth before I throat fuck you till you pass out.” He seethed, pulling you closer to his crotch as he stared you down with a warning flashing through his pale blue eyes.

“Fuck you.” You spat, his threat instantly creating a pool between your parted legs. Still, you glared up at him defiantly, refusing to be tamed.

Keegan growled, your resistance turning him on and simultaneously irritating him in a twisted way. “You just want me to do it, don’t you?” He rapidly lowered his boxers, his erection finally springing free. You attempted not to salivate as you stared at the two angry veins spiralling up his shaft, curving upwards with his tip crying with pre-cum. He was much bigger than that other guy.

He sighed as he was released from the confinement of his pants, giving himself a few pumps to ease the ache as he watched your wandering eyes. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride, him being well endowed and well trimmed combined with the snaking v-line that peeked out from under his shirt was making your pussy become soaked by the second, and he could tell by the way your legs twitched. Your mouth had unintentionally opened, whether it was from being pleasantly shocked or because you wanted him in your mouth, or both, you didn’t know.

“Fucking whore, you’re practically drooling for it.” He muttered, tapping the tip of his cock harshly on your lips. The pre-cum stained your lips, and you instinctively licked them, letting the dull salty taste invade your taste buds. He tasted so fucking good, it made your cunt clench around nothing.

Keegan grinned as you licked your lips, finding your stunned silence amusing. “Nothing to say now? Yeah, didn’t fucking think so. Is the sight of my cock enough to shut you up? Fucking hell, didn’t know you was that much of a dumb whore.” He teased, chuckling at you mockingly.

You snapped out of your daze, looking back up at him and opening your mouth wider to say something snarky, but you was abruptly cut off by him shoving his whole length inside your mouth. The sudden invasion made you gag around him, his tip touching the back of your throat and filling your mouth.

Keegan released a guttural groan as he felt your warm, wet mouth envelop all of him, pushing your head closer so your nose was pressing against his pelvis. He kept you there, groaning louder as you continued to gag, the constrictions of your throat making his cock twitch in your mouth, only making you gag even more and making your throat even tighter for him.

“Fuckk, yeah, that’s a good fucking girl.” He grunted, still keeping your head pressed against him. You felt your eyes begin to water as the air you was sucking up through your nostrils was no longer enough as you choked on his length. “Good fucking girl.” He purred, cherishing the sight of you heaving and fighting for breath on him. “Bet you’ve never had a real cock like this, huh?” Just as you thought you’d pass out, he pulled your hair back to take your mouth off his cock. He was drenched in saliva, and your drool was starting to dribble down your chin as you coughed and greedily inhaled the air to catch your breath.

“Motherfucker-!”

“Shut the fuck up. Show me how much of a good cock-sucking slut you are.” Keegan roughly slapped his cock against your mouth. “Come on, show me that skipping university was worth it.” He ordered, slapping you with it again.

You panted, shooting him a nasty glare to attempt to cover up the fact your pussy was practically dripping and screaming for him. It annoyed you how turned on he was making you. Your cheeks were flushed, tears streaming down your face with drool staining your chin. Keegan felt his cock ache for stimulation again as he took in your appearance after having it shoved down your mouth.

“My dad’s gonna kill you.” You uttered with a small rasp, staring up at him with temerity.

He grew impatient; he gripped your hair tighter, his eyes narrowing darkly as gave himself a few strokes. “Let him try. You think that threat is going to stop me from getting what I want? As far as your dad knows, I’m getting you in line. And I intend to. Now suck my fucking dick before I shove it down your throat again.”

You wasn’t sure if you could handle choking on him for that long again. And you wasn’t exactly opposed to doing this. After all, Keegan was so attractive, and you had many fantasies of this. It wasn’t an opportunity you were going to pass up. So, after a beat of silence, you grasped the top of his foreskin and gently pulled it back to reveal more of his tip, to which you lazily licked his frenulum with the base of your tongue, swirling it up and over agonisingly slow. Keegan hummed, his free hand starting to trace your jawline and shifting up to pull back more of your hair, wanting to see every inch of your face as you went down on him.

You continued to give small kitten licks on his tip, shifting from his frenulum to the top. You maintained eye contact, which only drove Keegan even more crazy. You looked so damn good.

He panted and hummed every few seconds from the light stimulation you was giving him on his sensitive tip, but was quickly replaced with an abrupt, loud groan when you finally took half of his shaft into your mouth.

His hand gripped your hair tighter once again in attempt to stop himself from cumming, his free hand reaching down to grope the top of your arse and give it a firm squeeze.

His touch was magnetising, and only sent a wave of heat straight down to your pussy. You used one hand to hold the base of his length, and began to bob your head while your hand pumped him into your mouth at a steady rhythm, evoking sharp hisses and guttural groans from Keegan as he watched you.

“Mmph..yeah, that’s right baby, fuckk..” He slurred, grabbing and squeezing your arse tightly every time you swirled your tongue over his shaft while you moved your hand simultaneously with your head. You made a risky move: you took his whole length in your mouth, trying not to gag as much as you did the first time when he forced it to the back of your throat. He was so long, you shocked yourself with succeeding in taking all of it. Once you adjusted somewhat, you began to flex the back of your tongue, using the muscle to prod his tip that was bullying the back of your throat and threatening to force a gag from you. Keegan shuddered as you did this, his eyebrows furrowing and rising as you practically guzzled his cock.

“Damn kid, who taught you how to do that?” He groaned, sucking air in through his teeth with every flex and flick of your tongue while he was balls deep inside your mouth. His sounds went straight through your ears and down between your legs.

The build up of saliva was making obscene wet sounds with every movement of your head as you slurped and messily went down on him, refusing to break eye contact with his half-lidded eyes. Knowing he was enjoying this made you ache for friction.

The throbbing was intense, almost enough to hurt - you needed to touch yourself to ease the twinge; you balanced on your knees and used your free hand to shove down your shorts to play with your clit, the need for stimulation becoming too much to bare with every hiss and grunt Keegan made.

You drew lazy circles on your clit, obtaining muffled moans from your already filled up mouth, creating pleasant vibrations on Keegan’s shaft which forced him to squeeze your arse even tighter.

“Oh fuck, yes, yeah..play with yourself baby. Mmph- fuck, keep it in your mouth.” Keegan panted, gently bucking his hips to go a bit deeper into your mouth as you moaned and sucked his cock. He gently fucked himself into your mouth, giving you more incentive to circle your clit a bit faster while you kept your mouth hollow to allow him space to invade your mouth. You retrieved the hand that was stroking him back to the edge of the bed for balance, still on all fours while one hand remained down your shorts, creating electric waves of pleasure from your clit to your stomach.

“Shit..fuck-“ Keegan grunted as his patience snapped and finally used both hands to hold your hair, before letting loose and rapidly fucking your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan louder in surprise, but didn’t stop rubbing your clit as your slick started coating your fingers. You became a moaning mess as the combination of him throat fucking you and you rubbing your own clit created a familiar tension in your lower stomach, especially when seeing Keegan’s head thrown back and lost in ecstasy, eyes welded shut as his hips moved quickly to shove his cock in and out of your mouth.

He had dreamed of this, but nothing came close to the real thing, right there. He didn’t stop his quick rhythm, fucking himself into your mouth as you teased and rubbed your clit.

His heavy pants and hisses intertwined with your loud but muffled moans, the room hot and heavy as you both neared your finish lines. Every hump of his hips was making the knot get tighter and tighter. Your legs began to shake slightly, the intensity building more and more, but Keegan had other plans for you. He fucked your mouth with a few more snap of his hips before stopping, pulling out and opening his eyes to watch the string of saliva connecting his cock to your mouth break.

You whined, missing the feeling of your mouth being full.

“Shut up.” Keegan roughly grabbed your hips and turned you around so you was facing your wall, extracting a dazed yelp from you. “I wanna hear how you sound without your mouth full.” He said, yanking your shorts down wildly, revealing you had gone without underwear today.

“Fucking hell.” Keegan remarked in a pleasing tone to find your pussy slicked with your wet arousal, with no underwear to give you modesty. No, you was bent over with your cunt right in his face.

Keegan reached out, running a finger over your folds to collect some of your slick. “You really are a fucking slut, aren’t you? All this for some scrawny kid?”

You whined again and arched your back, searching for his fingers in attempt to get touched more as he pulled them away. Keegan chuckled at this, and delivered a sharp slap to your arse cheek, making you jolt in surprise.

“Such a needy fucking pussy you’ve got.” He muttered, giving his cock a few pumps as he admired your pretty, wet and inviting pussy.

You arched your back again, practically begging him to fuck you already.

“Hm? You want me to fuck this needy pussy now?” Keegan taunted, smirking evilly as he witnessed you go from a juvenile little shit to a desperate and needy mess.

“Please, Keegan, fuck sake.” You whimpered, the ache had become unbearable. You needed him to fuck you. And you was in no mood to be teased.

“Oh? Please what?” He teased, rubbing the head of his cock along your soaked folds. You whinged, trying to push back into him.

“Fuck me, please.”

“What was that, baby?”

“For god sake, fuck me, Keegan, plea-!” You unleashed a drawn out moan as he pushed the head of his cock inside your warm walls, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your wet cunt welcomed him with open arms with little restriction, his own drawn out moans sounding from behind you as you clamped down on him.

“Jesus, fuck - you’re so tight.” He gritted his teeth, slowly pushing himself further inside you as he gripped your hips with bruising harshness. Every inch he added brought out a series of moans and whimpers out of you as you arched back into him. He revelled in the feeling of your warm cunt enriching his desires he had to repress for so long, shutting his eyes briefly and holding himself back from cumming so soon. You felt like heaven, your pussy felt like nothing he’d ever felt before. It was hard to not pound into you without remorse, but your tightness was a bit suffocating for him.

Once he adjusted to your tight hole, he slowly pulled half way out, leaving only his tip inside you, before slamming his hips into your arse, making you lurch forward. He groaned loudly, not caring if your father heard him anymore.

He repeated the action, pulling out half way and snapping back into you. He shuddered as he felt your hole grow accustomed to his size and found himself moving faster after every snap of his hips. Your arse slammed against him with every motion, creating small ripples on your skin; much to his delight. He groped and squeezed your arse again, giving it a little smack as he began to fuck you just a bit faster.

You pathetically mewled and moaned as the short lived pain turned into a feeling you’ve never felt before by any man - fucking amazing.

“Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck.” You were being loud, but you didn’t care. You gripped the sheets, eyes rolling everywhere, already cock drunk.

Your moans and curses only egged Keegan on, threatening to push him over the edge as your beautiful sounds made his cock twitch with every syllable.

“What would your daddy think, if he saw his daughter being a dirty bitch like this?” Keegan panted, leaning over you slightly to pull your tank top up and over your tits, kneading them and squeezing your nipples harshly as he fucked you harder. He savoured the sensation of your hard nipples and soft tits in his hands, massaging and pinching them gently, contrasting with the way he was fucking you like an animal in heat.

You welded your eyes shut, unable to answer with any smartass comment as the stimulation to your nipples and getting fucked was making the tension in your stomach return rapidly.

“Imagine he saw you like this, a dumb cock-drunk slut practically creaming on his best friends cock.” He uttered breathily, his words only making it more and more difficult to not cum all over him.

“He’d be so - fuck..He’d be so disappointed. Was it worth it baby? Was this worth skipping uni over?” Keegan managed to say through every rasp and grunt, relishing in the feeling of your arse bouncing and knocking into his hips.

“Mmph-! Fuck-! Y-yes!” Your eyebrows were furrowed and raised, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Yeah? It was?” He cooed, leaving small and sloppy kisses on your shoulder blade.

“Yes yes yes yes!” You babbled, practically screaming when he returned to his upright position and pounded into you even faster and harder.

“Fucking cum on me then. I know you wanna cum. Can feel your cunt squeezing the shit out of me.” He groaned, feeling his own high becoming more and more in reach as your pussy clenched him tighter and tighter.

Your breathing became sharper and your moans became more erratic as the tension grew, threatening to be released at any second.

“Yeah that’s fucking right, I want to feel this pretty pussy cum on my cock.” He reached down under your hips and traced sloppy circles on your clit while his other hand gripped your waist to carry on pulling you back into his fast-moving hips.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck! Shit-! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum!” You whimpered loudly, his sloppy circles finally pushing you over the edge and releasing a huge wave of ecstasy and pleasure rattling throughout your entire body as you screamed his name, cumming harder than you ever have before with your body trembling.

It didn’t take long for Keegan to catch up as you came, your pussy was squeezing him and pulsing, practically milking it out of him.

“Shit-! You’re gonna make me cum.” He hissed, desperately fucking you with no particular rhythm to chase his own high.

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming..!” With a final pump, he released a low pitched moan as he he pushed himself deep inside you, teasing your cervix as his hot strings of white painted the inside of your walls, cock twitching and pulsing out the cum, the top of his body colliding with the top of your back as he almost collapsed as you milked out all the cum in his balls.

His head rested in the crook of your neck as you both panted, the sweat you both emitted evaporating as your bodies cooled, making you shiver.

You both stayed like that for a moment, riding out the bliss in a comfortable silence. Finally, Keegan pulled out, lifting his trousers and boxers up while you collapsed on your front in exhaustion. You could feel his hot cum snaking out of you and ruining your bed sheets, but you couldn’t care less. You felt so good in that moment, utterly and completely satisfied.

You made a small noise when you felt Keegan finger his cum back into your stretched hole, too tired to react much more, earning a low chuckle from him as he stared at you, completely fucked out.

“Gonna tell your dad you learnt your lesson, and that I’ll be driving you to university from now on, princess.”

#cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan x you #keegan x reader #keegan x reader smut #keegan russ #cod mw2

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joeyalohadream · 3 days

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Hi me again.

I saw your post about how you received a negative anon message and was hoping you didn’t mean me? I sent you an ask about how much I loved your clegan childhood best friends idea (like literally can’t stop thinking about it) and just suggested that you could give the idea to another great writer in the fandom. I think it’s just as cool to be the idea maker sometimes and I wasnt insulting you.

I really do love your writing but you do take a long time to post new stuff and that particular idea is just everything to me so I don’t want it to be in limbo.

like you posted a bit of an angsty story the other day and got people excited and now you haven’t mentioned it again. Just don’t want that to happen to the childhood story cause it’s such a good idea.

sorry for rambling I just had to come back and say sorry if I’m the anon that made you feel bad. Wasn’t my intention..

Sorry everyone that reads this but I'm taking some of Swifty's backbone for a minute and answering a negative anon. Hiding my response below the cut so you can scroll past without seeing my drama if you'd like...

---

Of course it was your message that I was referring to.

In this fandom, full of the most wonderfully kind people I've ever interacted with, your message was the only negative one I've ever received. The fact that you could send that message, and now this one and somehow not understand that you're being incredibly hurtful is beyond me.

I wasn't going to respond to this message at all, just like I didn't respond to the first one you sent (just flat out deleted that one), but someone posted about my 'childhood friends au' today and brought it all back.

I checked out library books for research for that story and wrote the most detailed outline of any story I've ever thought up. And after your message, I returned the books and scrapped the story because you made me feel like garbage.

You flat out told me to give my idea to a specific writer in the Mota fandom that would 'turn it into a masterpiece'. You and I can agree on the fact that the writer you mentioned is one of the most talented fanfic writers around. They are. But to be so blatantly rude to me about my own writing and to call it 'advice'? Come on. You have to know you're being an asshole.

I'm a kind person. I'm also sensitive and hate confrontation and it even makes my stomach hurt to respond to this message because I don't like being unkind to ANYONE. I work two jobs. I work 60 hours a week most weeks. The fact that I find time to write anything is something I'm proud of and you calling me 'inconsistent' is just absolutely unempathetic.

Since you keep choosing to remain anonymous, this is the only way I can know I reach you to tell you this:

If you follow me, unfollow me. Don't interact with my posts. Don't read my stories. And stay the hell out of my inbox.

#VERY PERSONAL #negative anon experience #sorry about even answering this #i'm going to go crawl into a hole now #don't be mean to me I work in customer service and can only handle so much

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curseofaphrodite · 23 hours

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PRE-OWNED RECORDS

Sirius Black x muggle!reader || fluff

summary: the time Sirius sneaked away from Hogwarts to see you.

The thrift store looked as cozy as ever, which was the obvious effect of a place filled with things that people had previously loved. The crooked statues and trinkets near the door, the sound of a Little Richard record playing somewhere behind the back, the huge stack of battered old books — all of them made you excited like the very first time you stepped inside.

You looked at the boy you came with and saw a gleam in his eyes that you haven't ever seen before.

"Pretty, isn't it?" you asked, taking a brown butterfly hairclip from the basket near him. Sirius still hasn't finished taking in the shop's eccentrics.

"It's so cool," he said in awe.

You laughed. You could see why he'd be so surprised. Sirius Black had been homeschooled all his life, or that's what he says anyway. All you know is that your strange, rich, pretty neighbour never comes out of his house unless it's the holiday season. When you ask him about it, he says his mother is old-fashioned and traditional. You hadn't understood what he meant until you saw her once yourself. From her attire to her cold glare, that particular cameo still gave you shudders.

Even the times you do see him, he's covered in leaves and dirt, as if he climbed down the window without anyone seeing. Sometimes you wonder if you ought to get him legal help to get him emancipated. But he never looked physically harmed, but he never looked completely okay either.

Str̥angely enough, your holiday friend wasn't out on a holiday though. This visit was right in the middle of the school year. When asked about it, he said something about apparition or desperation that you just decided not to ask further. He looked particularly worn out that day, so you decided to take him to somewhere he'd never been before, which happened to be a very long list. The thrift store was close, so that's the story of how he ended up gawking at the records beside you.

"Who's your favorite?" you asked, actually curious. Apart from his unusual attire and confused looks when you mention anything from music, you haven't had the faintest clue as to who he even listened to.

"Stubby Boardman?"

You blinked. "Uhm, you mean Buddy Holly?"

"Yeah, sure." Sirius looked more interested in the records before him. He brushed past the unorganized stack with a faraway look in his eyes. He then turned to you questioningly. You jumped a little and looked away because you realized you might have been staring a little too much at him.

"Look at this!" You were thankfully saved by the orange and red album in front of you. You reached for it gleefully, making a happy sound. "I've been looking for this edition for such a long time! Oh, I can't believe they have it!"

"Are they any good?" he asked, matching your level of excitement.

"The best," you sighed, hugging it closer.

This particularly sweet moment was cut short when you heard a small commotion at the front of the store.

Sirius's face showed immediate panic. "I knew that cat looked familiar!" He said, rushing to the cashier's area.

"The cat?" you blinked in confusion, then followed him.

A woman stood in the spot, wearing the biggest black hat you'd ever seen. She had small spectacles and smart, shrewd eyes behind them. She looked exhaustingly mad, as if she'd been in plenty of situations like this before.

"I'm still learning the ropes of apparition?" Sirius tried, smiling meekly. "I've no clue how I've ended up here."

"Mr. Black, you've excelled in apparition and rest assured, even the most horrible student wouldn't end up hundreds of miles away from where they are. I'm sorry to interrupt your date but you're coming with me right this instant!"

"Who is this?" you asked. The woman turned her gaze on you, and the wheels seemed to turn in her head.

"Let's go," she said more sharply.

"I enrolled in a boarding school?" Sirius directed the answer at you, though it sounded more like a lame excuse. The woman did not look happy to be ignored. "I've to go now but I'll explain everything when I'm back okay?"

"No, you won't!" the woman said shrilly.

"I'm sorry but you all have to leave," the cashier said, looking like she's had enough. "We don't have squabbles inside the store."

Sirius looked a tiny bit sad. Being unofficially thrown out of the store was not how you thought how the day would go, but you sighed and walked out anyways.

Your phone rang. It was your father, asking you to pick up the groceries on your wy back. By the time you hung up, both Sirius and the lady was nowhere to be seen.

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

"You're young and that's a fancy word for naive," Minerva said, walking or slightly running down the hall. Sirius struggled to keep up.

"She's going to understand."

She stopped in her tracks and Sirius almost crashed into her.

"That's not what I meant. How do you think your mother would take the fact that you're friends with a muggle? Let alone more than friends?"

Sirius blushed. "There's not more—"

"Oh, I'm not stupid. But that's not what this is about either. You're bringing her to her doom if you keep visiting her under Walburga's nose."

"She's all I have at that place!"

"That's not true. There's a person in your own house who needs you, but you seem to forget that."

"Regulus is like the rest of them. He's not who he was," Sirius said promptly. His words were harder than before. "If you doubt it, look for the mark in his arm."

Without waiting for her reply, he stormed away. To hell with the detentions, he thought. I have to do one more thing back in my town.

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

The next morning, the first thing you thought of while waking up was the boy with dark long curls and brown pretty eyes. You wondered if you dreamt him up.

There was a part of you that wanted to be mad that he left without a goodbye, but you actually didn't mind. Something said he'd be back soon enough.

"Hey kiddo," your dad knocked on your door and walked in, holding something familiar in his hands. "Someone left this at the door. Must be for you."

You gasped, grabbing the red and orange record from his hands.

"How—?"

"There was no note." He shook his head. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a secret admirer. Now come down to the kitchen, we made pancakes."

"I'll be right there," you mumbled, examining the album once again. Once he left the room, you immediately went to the player.

While you took out the record, you noted something eerily familiar to dog hair sticking on the sides.

THE END

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

masterlist | KOFI | commissions

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders x you #astoria writes

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diminuel · 2 days

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psssss long time not bothering u xD

today i bring questions about ace. more specifically, your au where ace wants to be a girl sometimes!! and i know that unless im remembering it wrong its from tje same universe where luffy was raised by his dads, but luffy being luffy i assume he wouldn't tell his crewmates about his family just like in canon. so like, when they get in alabasta, im not sure the whole croco arc would still happen, but the point i want to focus on is the crew meeting ace!! and to me genderfluid ace would be chill being called by both brother and sister and luffy just switches on it randomly and wanna know what ur think the crew's reaction would be. i know they wouldn't mind ace genders and sexuality, i just mean their reaction to luffy general mess with mentioning family members and explaining anything. in my head ace would have to pull them aside for the info bit that "oh yeah i dont mind any pronouns and im sometimes a boy and sometimes a girl" bc luffy would leave them all confused

sorry if this ask is a mess i hope it makes some sense

Hello hello!

The issue with the silly universe where we get girl Ace sometimes is that nothing would quite happen like in canon most likely because the stakes are drastically lowered. How exactly I don't know *lol* But it doesn't really matter for the question at hand.

A part of me believes that Ace wouldn't feel the need to explain anything that wasn't important. So the only question that would be relevant to him in particular might be "why does Luffy keep calling you his big brother" with the implication being that to them it's obvious that Ace is a girl.

He would probably explain that their Auntie Iva has devil fruit powers and can change people's gender. Ace has been Luffy's big bro for over 10 years before he first asked Iva, so it stuck. He changes based on what he feels like (and if he can get to Iva, because it's a bit of a journey).

As to reactions of the crew. I think Zoro would probably just take note of it without comment (though me being me I think we should send Zoro to Iva too *lol*), Nami and Usop would be quite amazed, Chopper would be very excited about what Iva can do and how to combine medicine and devil fruit powers to help people. Sanji's probably heard that Iva is the Queen of a kingdom of maidens and passed out with a nosebleed.

Vivi might know Ace already if this was an AU where the Monkey kids sometimes hang out in Alabasta. (They might even be (sworn) siblings. So maybe she could fill them in if they want more information.)

#tinylyy #Diminuel replies

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doggirlhen · 1 year

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the thing is you have to get a good grade in being an art commissioner. you cannot be a bitch when paying for art. you have to be patient and nice. i have not been perfect in my years of paying other furries for art of my funny animals but i can, with confidence, say ive gotten a good grade. artist friends of mine agree im awesome and fankly the Keys to being Awesome at being a commissioner are just like. being nice and recognizing artists arent machines. theyre people who have their own lives and are not infront of their tablet drawing for everyone 24/7. youll find them posting about some game or movie when youve been waiting three weeks for something and thats fine. youll find them having difficulty getting something exactly like how it is in your brain because, like all people, they cannot read your mind. you gotta have everything ready and upfront and be ready to answer questions. its fine to be a little nitpicky and a little "sorry im not quite sure on this pose, could you do X Y and Z" and not be an asshole about it. after a certain number of "can you do X different" you have to realize its either not going to be exactly how you want it to be or the artist is going to want to kill you with hammers. and thats fine. i think artists have every right to want to kill you with hammers.

#barks #rambling sorry #im friends with many artists and have the privilege of sometimes hearing them bitch about awful clients #and i take such pride in so far not being one of those #ive had my moments. i will not say im perfect i have for sure pissed of friends of mine being nitpicky #but in pieces where i want a high level of finesse and specificity ive always mentioned that from the getgo #and offered to pay past a certain amount of fixes #this isnt on my mind for any particular reason im not between many comms atm #idk just. be nice to artists #if youre an artist friend of mine and yo uwant to leave any notes or anything in the replies please be my guest

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coredrill · 10 months

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this is something i’ve talked about quite a bit with a friend, but i figured i’d share it here just because i think it’s an interesting and informative mindset to look at current media with… basically, i had the chance to talk to [writer who works for major media corporation, not involved with any of the examples i mention] a bit ago and they said that when they tried to include a trans character in their story, the direction they were given from higher-ups was that “they can BE trans, but they can’t SAY they’re trans.” and i think hearing this really made a lot of things click into place for me regarding, like, queer characters as a whole?

like. i think it’s the reason that someone like captain angel in strange new worlds can use they/them pronouns and talk to spock about not fitting into boxes but can’t SAY that they are nonbinary/trans. it’s the reason those gundam girls can propose and get matching rings, but as soon as a voice actor says they’re gay, bandai scrambles to “correct” it. kirara from jjk can have a middle school class photo that looks quite masc and in the present look very punk & femme, but not say the word trans. gwen stacy also cannot say the word trans while the screen flashes pink and white and blue as she begs her dad to just see her for who she is as his daughter. galo can give lio the kiss of life and then explode into a heart-shaped flame in a movie littered with pink triangles but not be called gay.

and all of this is obviously frustrating for a number of reasons, and it can be hard to parse intent when movies and shows CAN’T be as open as their writers would like them to be, but i think it’s worthwhile to keep in mind as a viewer? i don’t pretend to know what goes on behind the scenes of course, but i’d bet that’s why we’re getting to such a point where there are stories that are laughably blatant in how queer they are but which staunchly don’t claim to be - because if they DID, they’d lose the chance to tell that story before they could even try 😭

#sorry for the serious post if u scroll a little farther you will see the usual fare #idk. i don’t think this is a revolutionary idea or anything it just kinda knocks my socks off with how often it can be applied #in my eyes atleast #at the very least i think it makes a LOT of sense with like. where star trek in particular is at fndnfjdbfnjd #queer #t.txt #hi ama if you see this LMAO

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t00thpasteface · 4 months

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all of your post are making me want to watch M.A.S.H.... and I do really like stuff involving the korean/vietnam war.... do i do it?

it really is great if you already have experience with other art/fiction created during and after the vietnam war. Apocalypse Now comes to mind, but that really undersells how much of a total fluke MASH was for its time. i mean, it started airing while the vietnam war was STILL HAPPENING, and they HAD to keep it about korea just so they could get on the air, AND this was less than five years after the Hays code ended. it was the 70s, but it was also the 70s, you know?

you NEED to go into this show acknowledging that it was produced in a very very particular window of time; as much as we tend to think of pop media as existing in this anachronistic homogeneity wherein which things remain static for decades, that is not the case, and MASH is very very clearly a product of its time, as everything unavoidably is. general consensus is that the show really "grew the beard" around season 4/5 (the last 2 episodes of s4 are some of my favorite episodes of the whole show) but it's never perfect, and you shouldn't expect it to be. and this too has a metanarrative merit to it. we are all capable of evil (or just saying things in poor taste) even when our intentions are good, etc...

on the other hand, sometimes that's an incredibly impressive thing. watching MASH with a solid lens of its contemporary audience and culture will reveal all sorts of little shocks and rebellions that would seem tame or even regressive to a later audience such as us. if you have a cool parent or older friend/relative to watch this with who was alive at the time of the vietnam war and remembers seeing the dead bodies on the news every night, watch this with them. alternatively, check out commentary online by people in that age range, as well as writer/actor/director commentary if that's your bag (sometimes alan alda was all 3). enjoying antiwar fiction like MASH with that cultural context is like using one of those little decoder lenses on a cereal box or whatever. i said to another asker: "by 70s tv censorship standards, this show was basically on-screen gay sex and flag burning."

it's fucking uncanny when something in MASH strikes you and you can see how little has broadly changed in global politics since. and yes that's a tragedy. but i think there's a corollary to it:

#INCAPABLE OF SAYING ANYTHING CONCISELY. I HAVE THOUGHTS. mom and i were just talking about this exact thing yesterday #and talking about her dad's journey from nasa scientist to hospital neurologist to hippie hermit camping in an rv #as it related to that cultural shift around that time. so yeah sorry you hit some very particular timing with this ask #shebbz shoutz #ask #mash #m*a*s*h #meme redraw

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paranormaljones · 11 months

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hey remember when it was considered really fucking weird to use extremely sexual and disturbing language to simp for real people in their own comment sections/online spaces? can we go back to that stigma? like if you wouldn't say that shit out loud to that person's face, literally just don't say it anywhere. y'all are so self-centered it's insane. you do not EVER. have the right to tell someone who does not know you at all exactly what you think of them sexually. bunch of disgusting catcallers.

#sorry for the strong language to my more kindly worded friends #but i'm not sorry for anything else #and don't worry i am not vagueing about any one person in particular #this is just me screaming into the void

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thunderboltfire · 7 months

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I have a lot of complicated feelings when it comes to what Neflix has done with the Witcher, but my probably least favourite is the line of argumentation that originated during shitstorms related to the first and second season that I was unlucky to witness.

It boils down to "Netflix's reinterpretation and vision is valid, because the Witcher books are not written to be slavic. The overwhelming Slavic aestetic is CDPR's interpretation, and the setting in the original books is universally European, as there are references to Arthurian mythos and celtic languages" And I'm not sure where this argument originated and whether it's parroting Sapkowski's own words or a common stance of people who haven't considered the underlying themes of the books series. Because while it's true that there are a lot of western european influences in the Witcher, it's still Central/Eastern European to the bone, and at its core, the lack of understanding of this topic is what makes the Netflix series inauthentic in my eyes.

The slavicness of the Witcher goes deeper than the aestetics, mannerisms, vodka and sour cucumbers. Deeper than Zoltan wrapping his sword with leopard pelt, like he was a hussar. Deeper than the Redanian queen Hedvig and her white eagle on the red field.

What Witcher is actually about? It's a story about destiny, sure. It's a sword-and-sorcery style, antiheroic deconstruction of a fairy tale, too, and it's a weird mix of many culture's influences.

But it's also a story about mundane evil and mundane good. If You think about most dark, gritty problems the world of Witcher faces, it's xenophobia and discrimination, insularism and superstition. Deep-seated fear of the unknown, the powerlessness of common people in the face of danger, war, poverty and hunger. It's what makes people spit over their left shoulder when they see a witcher, it's what makes them distrust their neighbor, clinging to anything they deem safe and known. It's their misfortune and pent-up anger that make them seek scapegoats and be mindlessly, mundanely cruel to the ones weaker than themselves.

There are of course evil wizards, complicated conspiracies and crowned heads, yes. But much of the destruction and depravity is rooted in everyday mundane cycle of violence and misery. The worst monsters in the series are not those killed with a silver sword, but with steel. it's hard to explain but it's the same sort of motiveless, mundane evil that still persist in our poorer regions, born out of generations-long poverty and misery. The behaviour of peasants in Witcher, and the distrust towards authority including kings and monarchs didn't come from nowhere.

On the other hand, among those same, desperately poor people, there is always someone who will share their meal with a traveller, who will risk their safety pulling a wounded stranger off the road into safety. Inconditional kindness among inconditional hate. Most of Geralt's friends try to be decent people in the horrible world. This sort of contrasting mentalities in the recently war-ridden world is intimately familiar to Eastern and Cetral Europe.

But it doesn't end here. Nilfgaard is also a uniquely Central/Eastern European threat. It's a combination of the Third Reich in its aestetics and its sense of superiority and the Stalinist USSR with its personality cult, vast territory and huge army, and as such it's instantly recognisable by anybody whose country was unlucky enough to be caught in-between those two forces. Nilfgaard implements total war and looks upon the northerners with contempt, conscripts the conquered people forcibly, denying them the right of their own identity. It may seem familiar and relevant to many opressed people, but it's in its essence the processing of the trauma of the WW2 and subsequent occupation.

My favourite case are the nonhumans, because their treatment is in a sense a reminder of our worst traits and the worst sins in our history - the regional antisemitism and/or xenophobia, violence, local pogroms. But at the very same time, the dilemma of Scoia'Tael, their impossible choice between maintaining their identity, a small semblance of freedom and their survival, them hiding in the forests, even the fact that they are generally deemed bandits, it all touches the very traumatic parts of specifically Polish history, such as January Uprising, Warsaw Uprising, Ghetto Uprising, the underground resistance in WW2 and the subsequent complicated problem of the Cursed Soldiers all at once. They are the 'other' to the general population, but their underlying struggle is also intimately known to us.

The slavic monsters are an aestetic choice, yes, but I think they are also a reflection of our local, private sins. These are our own, insular boogeymen, fears made flesh. They reproduce due to horrors of the war or they are an unprovoked misfortune that descends from nowhere and whose appearance amplifies the local injustices.

I'm not talking about many, many tiny references that exist in the books, these are just the most blatant examples that come to mind. Anyway, the thing is, whether Sapkowski has intended it or not, Witcher is slavic and it's Polish because it contains social commentary. Many aspects of its worldbuilding reflect our traumas and our national sins. It's not exclusively Polish in its influences and philosophical motifs of course, but it's obvious it doesn't exist in a vacuum.

And it seems to me that the inherently Eastern European aspects of Witcher are what was immediately rewritten in the series. It seems to me that the subtler underlying conflicts were reshaped to be centered around servitude, class and gender disparity, and Nilfgaard is more of a fanatic terrorist state than an imposing, totalitarian empire. A lot of complexity seems to be abandoned in lieu of usual high-fantasy wordbuilding. It's especially weird to me because it was completely unnecessary. The Witcher books didn't need to be adjusted to speak about relevant problems - they already did it! The problem of acceptance and discrimination is a very prevalent theme throughout the story! They are many strong female characters too, and they are well written. Honestly I don't know if I should find it insulting towards their viewers that they thought it won't be understood as it was and has to be somehow reshaped to fit the american perpective, because the current problems are very much discussed in there and Sapkowski is not subtle in showing that genocide and discrimination is evil. Heck, anyone who has read the ending knows how tragic it makes the whole story.

It also seems quite disrespectful, because they've basically taken a well-established piece of our domestic literature and popular culture and decided that the social commentary in it is not relevant. It is as if all it referenced was just not important enough and they decided to use it as an opportunity to talk about the problems they consider important. And don't get me wrong, I'm not forcing anyone to write about Central European problems and traumas, I'm just confused that they've taken the piece of art already containing such a perspective on the popular and relevant problem and they just... disregarded it, because it wasn't their exact perspective on said problem.

And I think this homogenisation, maybe even from a certain point of view you could say it's worldview sanitisation is a problem, because it's really ironic, isn't it? To talk about inclusivity in a story which among other problems is about being different, and in the same time to get rid of motifs, themes and references because they are foreign? Because if something presents a different perspective it suddenly is less desirable?

There was a lot of talking about the showrunners travelling to Poland to understand the Witcher's slavic spirit and how to convey it. I don't think they really meant it beyond the most superficial, paper-thin facade.

#The witcher #Sorry if its convoluted I just got reminded of something and it made me a little angry #and as I had this conversation a lot of times I've decided to put it into written text #sorry about being bitter #but these are some of my favourite books and I'm still upset when I get reminded how badly they were treated in the recent adaptation #I'm not saying you should never change anything #But it's good to have enough background to understand why some things are the way they are in the original #and to understand what the source material is about #we don't talk about particular character's looks or something (altough I feel they could care more about it too)#but central themes tropes and motifs #long post #it may seem like I'm talking from a high horse here #people are welcome to interpret literature however they want #Nobody has a monopol on themes #I just think that in this particular case the cultural context influences the worldbuilding #and if changed it doesn't have the same impact anymore #meta

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