#than he ever did in the previous two campaigns

[critterfloozy]

You know, when thinking about Bells Hells, Campaign 3, Marquet, and the conversations that tend to erupt around them - how Bells Hells doesn't seem to have many ties to Marquet, how Marquet doesn't seem like it got the same sort of exploration that Tal'dorei and Wildemount got, ect...

I keep on flashing back to the fact that Matt made the choice to stay in Jrusar for so many episodes at the beginning, to be able to explore a city more fully than we usually do. And how, at the beginning of the campaign, I'd say that Bells Hells had more emotionally important connections within Marquet than they do right now - Zhudanna and the other Krook house residents, but also Xandis, Marwa, Eshteross, Evelyn Wress (Eshteross's caretaker - remember her?), Pretty, Jiana Hexum, The Green Seekers Detective Agency, Imahara Joe, Dancer, that one cool Duskmaven priestess that showed up and was interested in Laudna and then didn't show up again...

But it's been, what - nearly fifty episodes since we've spent much time there? Most of the characters are still living, so it's not like they can't visit them or talk to them. So I end up trying to think not so much about why Bells Hells are so disconnected from Marquet, so much as why the attempt to place them in a specific city and give them those emotional connections didn't take.

[heliads]

Hello <3 I was wondering if maybe you could write a charles leclerc fic?? Reader could be in charge of social media and fans start to realise that charles flirts with whoever is behind the camera? Sorry if its too vague, but I love your writing and had to send something in

i cheered audibly when i saw this, please let me write more f1 fics

masterlist

When you were just getting started with your career, someone once asked you if you’d ever consider running a social media campaign for something cute, like a zoo or rescue company. You answered them with a firm no; everyone knows animals never work on camera the way you want them to, and you didn’t want that sort of stress in your life. 

You think the universe must be laughing at you, because funnily enough, what you’re doing right now is exactly like herding cats, but you don’t even get adorable animals for your troubles. No, the Formula One media circus is a nightmare, but it’s a well televised nightmare, and that means your job as head of social media for the Scuderia Ferrari F1 team entails a great deal more metaphorical manhandling of the drivers than you’d ever envisioned.

It’s not even metaphorical all the time, the manhandling. Sometimes it’s just you sending out a great deal of mass emails when someone says something they probably shouldn’t or the Ferrari TikTok page is going through a content drought, but sometimes it’s more. Sometimes it’s like today, when you’re forcing the two drivers to go through yet another competition so the YouTube channel can get another push of subscribers.

You’ve done a lot of careful research over the months that you’ve been here, all dedicated to finding out just what sells the best, so to speak. As of late, you’ve learned that the viewers at home really like competitions and challenge videos. Apparently seeing two men who are obviously great friends go head to head over something as pointless as music trivia or Ping Pong is the pinnacle of motorsport content.

It’s not like you’re complaining. More views means a better paycheck for you at the end of the year. The fans like what you’re producing, and Ferrari likes the fans. It all works out in the end, and who are you to deny the Tifosi their favorite entertainment?

Of course, if you were to actually tell the two red-suited drivers that you refer to them as content and entertainment in the private recesses of your own mind, they probably wouldn’t be too happy. That’s why you keep that to yourself. Besides, they’re your friends. Charles and Carlos may make a lot of problems in your life, but who doesn’t? You’re not exactly perfect either. 

You don’t have to be perfect, though, you just have to come up with good ideas and let the boys be funny on their own. Charles said he liked that best about you, actually, that you let them do their own thing most of the time. The previous social media managers had tried to get them to fit this specific picture of what a Ferrari driver should be, but you never did that. You just wanted them to be them. 

You’re perfectly willing to brush that off as a compliment to a coworker, though. In truth, you’re working constantly to paint these two in the best possible light. It gets stressful sometimes, constantly wracking your brain to make each video work, each post take off. You are affecting how millions of people see Charles and Carlos. Hell, you’re practically filtering their legacy all by yourself. 

It’s not a task you take lightly, to say the least. Maybe that’s why Ferrari is content to keep you around. This is a job that you’d like to extend as long as you can. Just like Charles has worked with overly pushy social media handlers, you’ve worked with total diva clients. Neither of the Ferrari drivers are like that in the slightest, which you appreciate more than anything. 

That isn’t to say that they only ever make your life easy. Right now, for instance, you’ve been begging them to focus for the better part of ten minutes. It’s like working with elementary schoolers. You put anything in front of them and they’re totally distracted before you’ve so much as told them what they’re supposed to be doing. 

Today’s video of choice is a long-anticipated cooking video. Charles versus Carlos, the drivers have been given a mystery basket of ingredients à la Chopped. They’ll have half an hour to come up with a dish of choice, and if the time crunch weren’t enough to stress them out, you’ll be judging their culinary creations when time is called. It’s the perfect setup for a hit video, so if all goes well, you’ll see this on the trending page soon enough. 

That is, if you manage to survive this encounter long enough to post the results. By the time you manage to wrangle the drivers’ attention back to you, Charles has attempted to learn the contents of the bag through interpretive dance and hand gestures with the cameramen and Carlos has accidentally turned his stove on thrice. The third time the fires clicked on, he almost set a napkin ablaze. Both drivers are red faced from trying not to break into mad laughter again. 

You clap your hands once. “Alright, are we finally ready to get started?”

Carlos nudges Charles in the side. “Look, she’s disappointed in you already and she hasn’t even tasted your cooking. This means I am going to win by a lot.”

Charles scoffs, but you swear his barely suppressed smile drops in a second when Carlos mentions your disappointment. “Y/N would never be disappointed in me,” he protests, “I am her favorite, obviously.”

He turns to you, raising his hands in your direction as if asking you to prove his point. You shake your head. “I don’t have favorites, Charles. That would not promote a fun workplace environment.”

“Of course,” Charles nods sagely. “If you had a favorite, though, it would be me.”

Carlos snickers, and in an effort to keep their focus with you before you lose them again, you clear your throat and read out the rules of the cooking contest. The drivers say their dutiful bits about how they’re each going to win this by a landslide, and then time begins and they’re off to the culinary races. 

The covers on the baskets go flying. Charles holds up each object in turn, announcing them in tones of increasing panic. “Butter. Flour. Eggs. Green olives? Three strawberries? A box of spaghetti? Pepperoni?”

“You forgot the chocolate and red onion,” Carlos points out helpfully. 

Charles tosses his teammate a withering glare, then turns the full force of his vexation back to you. “Y/N, you are trying to kill me.”

“Charles,” you say, “we talked about that.”

Charles’ brow furrows as he tries to remember what you mean. It hits him as last and he groans, slapping a hand to his forehead in mock desolation. You’ve noticed that Charles has been mentioning you by name a lot in videos, leading to general confusion among fans. As you’ve reminded him many times before, you’re not supposed to be the focus, he is, so he needs to stop bringing you up all the time. Viewers don’t care about who’s filming the content, after all, just who’s in front of the camera. It’s a tip handed down directly from your boss to you.

Charles still grins at you even as he continues unpacking his ingredients. “I can’t help it, you know that. You’re too good, I want to mention you all the time.”

You scoff. “Good at what? Keeping you in line?”

“Everything,” he says, and raises his eyebrows suggestively. 

You roll your eyes and tell him to focus, but even this instruction doesn’t last long. Barely five minutes later, Charles is bringing up the fact that he’s going to totally win this thing because cooking is, like, a love language, right? And he’s the best at love, he declares, winking conspicuously in your direction. Carlos launches an oven mitt at his head and mutters something that the microphones don’t pick up, something that conveniently has the same number of syllables as stop flirting. 

Charles is steadily making jokes the entire duration of the video, actually, and usually you wouldn’t mind this but they’re all spoken with the intention of getting you to laugh. Not the camera, as he’s been told to do before. You. 

You do your best to keep it off your mind. Both drivers have gotten better about opening up on camera since they started, and this is probably just Charles trying something new in an effort to improve his on-screen personality. After all, it can be hard to direct all your charisma towards a camera, why not aim all your smiles at the person filming instead?

The contest ends soon enough. You end up awarding Charles with the win, mainly due to the fact that Carlos’ hand accidentally slipped as he was attempting to strain his pasta and he ended up losing all of his spaghetti down the sink. His plate consisted of sauce and decorative strawberry slices, which, although tasty, did not contain several key ingredients and resulted in an automatic disqualification. 

Despite the rather shaky grounds on which his cooking victory stands, from the way Charles is acting, you’d think he’d won the WDC. He’s beaming at you, talking about how he’d called this from the very start and was proud that you liked his stuff the best. He even offers to wash the dishes, which is very un-driverlike. 

The video ends up a success by all accounts. Even days later, it’s still trending in Tifosi circles, and the view counts are way higher than expected. Curious as to why, you decide to do the unthinkable and check the comments section of the cooking video.

What you find is– unexpected, to say the least. Usually, comments on any post, whether it be Instagram, TikTok, or YouTube, will range from fans lamenting race outcomes to people mentioning their favorite driver to random spam accounts offering thousands of dollars to the lucky person to message them first.

On this video, though? Most all of the comments are about you. This makes no sense, because not only were you on camera for about one minute, you didn’t do anything other than give instructions and judge food. Antonio Giovinazzi did the same job on a video last year, and no one cared at all. Antonio’s actually well-known in the world of motorsports, so why is it that you, someone who largely operates behind the scenes, would be the cause of so much fuss?

Curious, you start scrolling in depth, but find yourself more confused with every reply you see.

He’s totally flirting with her, right?

Is anyone else seeing the fact that Charles is freaking out over trying to impress this girl?

His face when she declared him the winner… I can’t even with him!!

Charles trying to protect Y/N by refusing to let Carlos salvage his sink pasta– they’re dating, right???

You find yourself laughing over it. This can’t be real. Surely nobody in the world actually thinks that Charles Leclerc– F1 driver, Ferrari superhero, Il Predestinato and supporter of all Tifosi hopes and dreams, multi-millionaire– would ever have a crush on you. It’s absurd. It’s so absurd that you find yourself racing to the office of another one of your friends in social media to get her opinion on it.

Your friend looks up at you, startled, when you burst into her office. “Has someone died?”

“No,” you gasp out, “worse.”

Her eyebrows raise. “One of the drivers had a scandal? We can fix this. Get me B-roll of them volunteering or something. We can turn this around in no time.”

“No,” you say weakly, “the Internet thinks I’m dating Charles Leclerc.”

Your friend freezes in her seat, finger still hovering over the call icon on Fred Vasseur’s contact in her phone, then slowly sinks back again. “Well, yeah, I can see why.”

You gape at her. “What?”

Your friend spreads her hands. “He follows you around everywhere you go. He’s always asking about you, you know. I kind of thought you two had a thing as well, it’s not just the Tifosi.”

You break out into somewhat crazed laughter. “Charles? You think Charles likes me? No, that’s ridiculous.”

Your friend, however, looks less skeptical of this news. “Is it really? I mean, he spent the entirety of shooting just cracking stupid jokes so he could make you laugh. You should have seen the way he stared at you whenever you so much as smiled. Man was transfixed.”

You shoot her a disbelieving look. “No– transfixed? Are you kidding? He wasn’t transfixed. He wanted to win a contest because he’s a racing driver and they like to be the best at everything. I’ll tell you what it was, he was trying to win me over so I’d decide the competition in favor of his cooking.”

Your friend chuckles. “You really are oblivious, aren’t you?”

You take a careful seat opposite her desk. “You’d better explain to me what you mean by that right now, or I swear, I’ll make you brainstorm TikTok ideas for the next month.”

Your friend shudders. “Anything but that, please. Those trends are so bad. Anyway, look, Charles has been obsessed with you since, like, the day you joined. I remember introducing you that day, actually, he was practically stammering over his words. Imagine that, someone who’s always so controlled with what he says whenever he talks to the press, and he can’t even say his name properly because a pretty girl is smiling at him.”

This whole situation feels insane. “Maybe you’re remembering it wrong or something. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t like me like that.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Your friend asks slowly, and, well, it makes you think.

It makes you think about all of the videos you’ve shot with him, every discussion after a press conference. How taking candids for the Instagram of Charles always takes ten times longer than it should because he never looks at the camera, only at you. How you greeted him earlier this year at the first race of the season and he said what he missed most of all over winter break was you. How he wasn’t even kidding when he said it, just smiling, smiling like he’d never meant something more in his life.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, “Charles likes me.”

Your friend slaps her hand on the desk, startling you. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

“What do I do, then?” You ask.

Your friend looks like she’s about to scream. “You tell him how you feel, obviously!”

“I do?” You repeat haltingly.

“You do,” she says, “And he’s right across the hall now. Go talk.”

She all but pushes you out of her office, and then you’re alone in the corridor with Charles, who has just spotted you and is heading your way with the brightest grin you’ve ever seen.

“Y/N!” He says, clearly pleased, “It’s so good to see you. I didn’t think our paths would cross until the next race.”

“Yeah?” You eke out, “Me neither, actually. Strange how things happen like that.”

Strange like friends with overly aggressive relationship advice. You’re certain that if you turned around now, you’d see her peering through the window in her door like some kind of stalker.

Charles nods. “I’m glad to see you, though. Did you notice that the last video did really well? I think that means you have to come around more often. You know, it’s what the fans want.”

“Speaking of the fans,” you say, “I happened to read through the comments and a lot of them seemed to think that you were flirting with me.”

You swear you can see Charles’ confidence fall in a flash. “What?” He protests a little too quickly, “that’s crazy. That’s, uh, really crazy.”

You nod. “That’s what I thought, but, on the off chance that you were flirting, I wouldn’t mind it.”

A small spark of hope forms in his eyes. “You wouldn’t?”

“I wouldn’t,” you decide at last, “because I like you too. If you like me, that is, and it wasn’t too crazy of me to say that.”

He’s laughing now, and you– well, you really do like him, you do, and something about seeing the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles makes you think at last about how long you have liked him, all the ways you realized you loved him but never admitted it to yourself.

“Alright,” he says, “Maybe it wasn’t too crazy after all.”

A pause, then:  “This does mean that you’ll be coming around more often, right?”

You smile. “Yes, Charles, I think it does.”

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[amerricanartwork]

Fat-Shaming

Technically, Pebbles is right here, but I think it's about time he got a taste of his own medicine!

This is technically the first true comic strip I've done... ever, it seems! I've had it in the works for at least a week, and I'm really enjoying how it turned out! It was inspired by a Reddit post I found comparing these two characters, and this silly scene just popped in my head as a result, since that part of the Gourmand campaign where Pebbles makes little side-insults about your weight will never not be amusing to me. Probably requires more context to get than the previous, but I hope you still found it funny!

Also, a headcanon of sorts below, if you want some more serious ideas:

I like the idea that Five Pebbles has a particular disdain for Gourmand, not just because he's the polar opposite in many ways, but because Gourmand represents everything Five Pebbles and the Ancients sought to overcome: indulgence, attachment to the pleasures of life, attachment to family, having low aspirations, accepting your place in life, accepting life in general the way it is.

I also like to think part of it comes from jealousy — this fat, lazy animal barely scratching the surface of civilization is both able to enjoy all the pleasures of life AND ascend whenever he wants, meanwhile the near-godlike supercomputer far more intelligent than this creature could even hope to fathom in a century is stuck just standing there, abandoned by his creators, trying to solve an unsolvable problem while he literally rots away? He'll hardly admit it, but it really does feel quite unfair, if you ask him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I'm curious to see how my ideas for Five Pebbles evolve over time. As of now, I actually have like, half the campaigns to finish still (did Survivor and Monk, and just about to complete my Gourmand run), so my ideas of his character may not be the most accurate right now. From the glimpses I've gained through fanart and such, there seems to be so much more to the story of the Ancients and their iterators, and it's tragic at that. Needless to say, though I usually don't like tragedy, I'm very curious to see the rest of that story...

[qwardivior]

DEMON BUSTERS!! — About Nezuko

Next Part>>

<<Previous Part

And so, the long awaited Nezuko post has arrived!!! Sorry for the long wait everyone, I had to work out some lore stuff and this kept getting delayed, so let’s just get right into it! In case you don’t know or need a refresher, in this modern kny au the Demon Slayer Corps has updated and rebranded into the Demon Busters! People have been dying to demon attacks at alarming rates so to make their jobs easier they’ve been running ad campaigns! However this installment is a little different as this is NOT an ad campaign! To protect Nezuko they did not run an ad campaign on her. Instead, this is known as an ‘about’. Several other characters will be getting an about section but let’s start with our favorite girl Nezuko!

— Lore Dump Incoming!!—

In this au, Nezuko got turned on her birthday. It was supposed to be a fun celebration, she would spend the night at her friends’ house and then go home the next morning to help her family prepare for New Years. Of course when the day actually came, there were complications as Tanjirou would not let her go for whatever reason, stating that he had a “bad feeling” about it. But nothing ever happens in their small town! In fact, the biggest event in a long while was their father’s death a couple months prior. Eventually, after some back and forth they just chalked it up to him being paranoid and she was able to go.

It wasn’t just paranoia. Nobody knew that anything was wrong until the next morning. Tanjirou had gone to pick Nezuko up since nobody had heard anything from her, and was met with a gruesome sight. Just like in canon, Nezuko was the only survivor, but she seemed to be a little off… Firstly, she had tried to attack Tanjirou before quickly coming to her senses after a man called Giyuu Tomioka appeared, stating that he was a “Demon Buster” and she was a “demon” and that he had to slay her. And secondly she no longer had a taste for human food and just slept all the time! Luckily, nobody was slayed, and the siblings were instructed to find a man named Sakonji Urokodaki, Tomioka’s teacher. But they couldn’t just leave! Not after everything. So they came to an agreement: because Nezuko was able to quell her hunger and more or less function like a normal human, the two would go home for now, and then Tomioka would come to pick them up at a later date. As it turned out, in order for Nezuko to get her humanity back, she’d have to become a “Demon Buster”. A perfect way to bring in the new year..

In this au Nezuko keeps her humanity and is more of her own person. This makes it easier for her to get around and get info from other demons easier. She also conquers the sun slightly earlier, but we’ll get to that later. She wasn’t able to really show herself to her family that often until she was able to learn how to disguise herself from none other than Yushiro. Her having a sense of self and a personality separate to Tanjirou also allows for them to go their separate ways a bit more. Of course they stick together but it’s not like Nezuko is bound to the box. They have missions that sometimes requires Tanjirou to go completely solo, thus Nezuko is left to her own devices.

Overall, I really want to explore Nezuko’s character more and there’s so much more to her than what can be explained in a single post. I guess you’ll just have to tag along to find out more huh? This will also allow me to expand more on her relationship in regards to Zenitsu. In canon, it seemed a little one-sided since we weren’t able to get Nezuko’s point of view, but in this au I want to show more mutual interest so it doesn’t come off as weird as it did in canon. This also allows her to make her own friends (read: Muichirou, Senjurou, Genya, and more). Nezuko is a very fun character to explore in this au and I can’t wait to show you guys more!

Also did I mention that a lower moon is seeking to kill her? No? Oh, my bad.

———

Hey! Thanks for sticking around. Sorry this one took a while! After this we will most likely be getting Tamayo and Yushiro!! Inosuke and Kanao will have to wait a little bit longer because I still have to figure out things lore/design wise. As for Hashira, the next one will either be Giyuu or Shinobu! That’s all for now and thanks for all the support on this au!! Feel free to ask me about anything lore-related! I’ll see you in the next one!

[roanofarcc]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER SIXTY THREE → THE FREAKSHOW

summary: steve harrington x oc || Ao3

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 2.7k || masterlist || ocs moodboard

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

Tagged. @sattlersquarry, @leptitlu, @two-sides-samecoin

The subdivision was quiet that afternoon. A strange calm had settled over Hawkins that spring, but Steve had learned not to let his guard down anymore. Nothing was ever calm in Hawkins, and his nerves were already pricked with Sunshine a couple of hours away in Indy with her sister. He knew she could handle herself if she ran into any trouble, and he tried to convince himself that she wouldn’t run into any trouble, but there had been a knot of worry tied inside his gut since he was little. He worried about everything, all of the time. The revelation of other dimensions, monsters, and bad men only made that knot worse. But he did his best to distract himself. 

“Turn your elbow like this,” Steve said, moving his arm to mimic the motion of the kid beside him. “It’ll help your aim.” 

Lucas fixed his arm and shot the basketball, putting it right through the old hoop Steve had dug out of his garage. Since Lucas told Steve he was thinking of trying out for the basketball team last fall, Steve had been helping him practice. Between all of his high school highs and lows, basketball had been the only consistent thing for Steve, and something he still enjoyed. It served as a normal distraction for both of them, but especially Lucas. The kid was really good too and made varsity his freshman year. And while he most rode the bench, Lucas had too much potential to stay there forever.

The ball bounced against the cement and Lucas raced to grab it, dribbling it back down the driveway to where Steve stood. He was quieter than normal; Steve was the only person, besides Lucas’s dad, who the kid could have an actual conversation about basketball with. His friends weren’t interested in it, and Steve wasn’t sure of the last time Lucas had a full conversation with Max, to everyone’s dismay. 

“You all right, Sinclair?” Steve asked. 

He shrugged, eyes glued to the ball. “This game’s a big deal, right?” 

“A really big deal,” Steve replied. There were only a handful of times Hawkins High made it to the championship of anything. “But, you know, all you can do is play your best.” 

Lucas snorted a sarcastic laugh. “You sound like Sunshine.” 

Steve smiled. “Occupational hazard.” She had rubbed off on him, even more so since they were dating. Her sunny disposition and pep talks, along with her adoration of the simple things in life. He saw the world differently with her, and not just the bad stuff that crawled out of portals or gates. The world was a scary place, but it also held a lot of good stuff, you just had to look through the weeds and interdimensional vines to see it. 

“I know the pressure can be tough, but you’ll be fine.” 

Lucas held the ball in his hands, slumping his shoulders slightly. “It’s not just that. This game is important to me, but Mike and Dustin want me to skip it for the D&D campaign. I guess Eddie refuses to reschedule.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. He didn’t really know the guy, their paths rarely crossed in high school. Either Steve was running with Tommy and Carol, too busy to notice nerds like Eddie Munson, or he was sulking in his fall from grace and reeling from monsters and bullies. He’d heard of Eddie, in a small town it was impossible to not know everyone, whether you liked to or not. Rumor had it he was some super-senior drug dealer, and that sounded like the last person Steve wanted hanging around the party. But Dustin refuted the rumors and made Eddie out to be some kind of king of the nerds. 

It was embarrassing, and Steve hadn’t even admitted it aloud to Sunshine yet, but he was a little jealous of the Hellfire Club caption. Sure, on paper, he was probably the cooler person to hang out with in the eyes of Dustin because he loved the same game they did, but Steve had thought that he and Dustin were the ultimate duo. He was like Steve’s little brother, annoying and sometimes a pain in the ass, but someone Steve couldn’t see not in his life. But it seemed like Dustin was no longer interested in hanging out with him. 

It made Steve feel even more useless to the gaggle of teens, like he really didn’t have a place in the grand scheme of their monster-hunting team anymore.

“Your friends can’t miss one campaign to come watch you play?” Steve asked, shoving aside his own weird issues with some dude he’d never even talked to before. 

“Guess not.” 

“Well, what about Max?” 

Lucas sighed again, hugging the ball to his chest like he was trying to get some kind of comfort from it. “She still won’t talk to me. She hardly talks to Mike or Dustin. Every time I try, she shrugs me off with some excuse. I don’t know what else to do.” 

Max didn’t like change, which Steve figured out very quickly after getting to know Max. Moving across the country was one thing, but what she’d experienced since being in Hawkins was another beast. No one could blame her, they all just wished she’d let them help her. Sunshine seemed to be the only one who could get through to her somewhat. She shut the party out, caved in on herself. Lucas was the most distraught over it. 

“There’s not much you can do,” Steve said. “You can try to be there for her, but you can’t magically make everything better.” 

“It just sucks. We know people with superpowers and know there’s another dimension, but we can’t, like, fix any of the shit we’ve been through. We just have to take it and pretend like…like it’s fine.” 

It was beyond frustrating, but that had become their lives. Steve’s mind glazed over it, trying hard not to think too much about it until the world threatened to end again. 

“Look on the bright side, you’ve only got four more years here. Then you can play basketball at some D1 school, pretend like Hawkins was some fucked up nightmare or something.” 

Lucas laughed but it was mixed with a little scoff. “Yeah, if I live that long,” he muttered, and Steve’s gut turned uncomfortably. He didn’t like that, jokes like that were too real. “And if they ever let me off the bench.” He tossed the ball at Steve, who caught it despite being slightly thrown off guard. 

Dribbling the ball, back up the driveway, Steve shoved away the pit in his stomach and focused on the task at hand. “Hey, with my help, you might even get to play in the championship.”

“Yeah,” he replied, sarcastically. “I might even win the whole thing.” 

→←

“This feels…unethical,” Will Byers said, chewing nervously on his nails as he stood lookout for Leia. 

She stopped, turning her head to look at him. “Really? I could name ten unethical things that have been done to the two of us alone. This, my dearest brother, is good ole’ fashioned revenge.” She balanced a cup of red paint on the locker shelf with a fishing wire around it. Carefully, she threaded the wire through the slit in the door and fashioned it so that as soon as the locker was opened, the cup would be pulled forward and spill on the unlucky but well-deserving bully. 

“I doubt she’s even read Carrie. Angela and her friends aren’t going to get the prank.” 

Leia sighed, cautiously looking up and down the empty hall. “They don't need to ‘get it.’ All that matters is that Angela is covered in red paint. She deserves a lot worse for laughing at El’s project, but Joyce said we’re grounded if we commit a crime.” 

“Technically, I think she said we’re grounded if we’re caught committing a crime.” 

Leia paused before she shrugged. “If this doesn’t work, then I’ll think of something illegal. Until then…” She dusted her hands off on her paint-stained overalls from an art project gone slightly rouge and clapped Will on the shoulder. He had grown even taller since their move, Joyce said it was probably the sun that was making all of them grow like weeds, but Will still curled into himself and tried to make himself smaller among their new Cali-folk. 

While Leia probably should have been more wary about a new school, but she had a different view of it. She had never attended any kind of school, so she had no expectations. Bullies didn’t bother her because she was good at brushing them off. All of the teasing from Kali’s friends made her skin thick and she had a little voice in her head reminding her she had superpowers and they didn’t; it made her feel better. 

Will flew under the radar too. He was quiet and good at blending in, making himself a small target. Luke followed in his footsteps, spending most of his time tucked away in the library which most kids avoided besides the nerdy and quiet ones. It was El that caught all of the flack. 

By some unlucky chance, she had caught the eye of a blonde-headed all-American mean girl the second she stepped through the school doors. El was kind, she wanted to be friends with everyone but had a hard time picking up on social cues. And the second Angela got a whiff of El’s slight unusualness, she latched on like a hungry shark. How some freshman had a cult following of brightly dressed, rich friends who would do anything she said, Leia had no idea. It was like they stumbled into the set of a movie riddled with cliches that Leia thought weren’t actually supposed to happen in real life. Yet, there Angela was, laughing at El while she tried to present a project she had worked really hard on. Apparently cruelty earned you cheap laughs; Leia wanted to fry Angle to a crisp. 

She had to settle for ruining the bully’s outfit. 

The bell rang, singling the end of class. Leia and Will stood innocently at the water fountain and subtly watched as Angela and her clique waded down the hall, her blonde ponytail swinging with each step. She arrived at her locker, entered her combo, and yanked it open. Out poured the red paint, splashing down the front of Angela’s shirt. She let out a shrill scream that echoed through the hall, causing people to stop. 

Angela wiped her hands against the paint, smearing it into the fabric and getting a layer coating her palms and fingers. It looked like blood, but the smell of paint quickly filled the air, making the hall smell just like the art room. 

Leia hid her laughter under her hand while Will pressed his lips in a thin line, suppressing a smile. They watched as Angela’s friends surrounded her like a flock of birds. She swatted them away and turned out from her locker with her face nearly as red as the paint. Leia couldn’t hear what she said, but without even cleaning herself up, she took off toward the doors that led to the courtyard of the school. 

“Okay,” Will said with a laugh. “You were right; that was great!” 

Leia beamed. “I’ve got more where that came from.” 

He shook his head, a lightness in his tone that only came out from time to time now. “Come on, let’s go find Luke and El. They’ll want to hear about this.” 

Unfortunately, their two siblings did hear about the red paint stunt because El was the first person Angela assumed had pranked her. By the time Leia and Will entered the courtyard, El was sprawled out against the ground with her project in pieces along the sidewalk. Angela was standing the closest to El, her arms crossed and laughing along with the rest of her friends who stood on the sidelines. 

El’s face was grief-stricken, and that alone was enough to send Leia running towards her sister. She jammed her shoulder into Angela’s sending the blonde stumbling. El stood and outstretched her hand in a similar way she once did when she used to abilities; it was a reflex, one that would probably take El a long time to shake since she had lost her abilities last summer. Before El did anything to give Angela further ammunition, Leia grabbed El’s arm gently and pushed it back down at her side. 

Angela seemed satisfied with sending El and her project to the ground and turned to leave, her front half still coated in paint. A tear fell from El’s eye as she glanced at her broken project. With a gentle sigh, Leia tried to channel her anger into something more helpful for El; it was what Sunshine told her to do when she felt her anger gain control of her, fueling her abilities and asking for something bad to happen. Leia grabbed a hold of El’s shoulder, making her sister look at her. 

“Are you okay?” 

El frowned, wiping away her tears. She nodded sadly, slumping her shoulders. 

“It’s my fault,” Leia said. “I pranked Angela, but I should have known she’d think it was you. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” El tried to smile, but it was weak and turned back into a frown when her eyes landed on the pieces of her project. 

Will and Luke started picking them up, placing them back in the slightly crushed shoe box. “We can fix it,” Will said with confidence in his voice. He pinched a squirrel figurine in between his fingers before holding it out to El. She grabbed the squirrel and closed her fist around it. “We’ll all help, and it’ll be good as new, all right?” 

“All right,” El said quietly. She joined the boys on the ground while Leia scooped out the surrounding area in case any pieces went flying off of the sidewalk and onto the grass. She spotted a couple of popsicle sticks and gathered them before she turned around. Directly behind her was one of her classmates, who sat beside Leia in art class. 

Startled, Leia gasped, and the girl’s eyes widened before a sheepish smile fell across her lips. “Sorry!” Abby said. “Didn’t mean to scare you, I just found this.” She held out a small hat that El had made to resemble Hopper’s police hat. 

“Thanks,” Leia said, taking the hat with a small ache in her chest. Not a day went by where she didn’t think about Hopper; she missed him, but Joyce was doing everything she could to make the three of them feel a part of their family. It wasn’t the same though. They weren’t in that little cabin in the woods, eating Eggos and watching black-and-white detective movies. 

Abby shoved her hands in her pockets and rocked back and forth in her busted sneakers. She didn’t dress like most of the kids at school; her shoes were dirty and her clothes were mended with patches of different colors. Her hair was pin straight and black, with thick bangs cut barely above her eyes. She was odd but in a good way. Abby was always bouncing on her heels or tapping her hands against the tabletop. She spoke quickly but with so much enthusiasm it made Leia feel happy too. 

“Angela’s a jerk,” Abby said. “I’m glad someone finally did something, even if it didn’t end super well.” 

Leia pocketed the hat with a sigh. “I should have used real pig’s blood.” 

“You stole the pain from the art room?” 

“Guilty.”

Abby laughed. “That’s amazing! Oh, I would have killed to see her face!” Leia laughed too; it was impossible for her not to. Abby’s laugh was infectious, which often got them into trouble in art when they couldn’t spot giggling in the middle of class.

“Leia, are you ready?” Will called from several feet away. They had cleaned up El’s project and Luke was carrying it in his arms, probably in case Angela had any other ideas. Luke was a little taller and broader, harder to knock down. 

Abby gave Leia a smile before she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she turned on her feet and headed across the yard, leaving Leia with a friendly giddiness bubbling inside her chest. 

Leia rushed over to her siblings, handing the hat off to El. Together, they all walked back into school, El sandwiched between them. The Hopper-Byers weren’t a typical group of siblings, but it was as if they were destined to be family all along. Maybe they radiated the idea that they didn’t belong, slotted pieces of different puzzles that somehow fit, but there was no denying that they belonged together as a family. 

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Eight

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 4643

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Talks of failed relationships, Bi!Dieter, Fingering (public, F receiving), food and drinks, fluff fluff fluff, handy in the car, praise kink if you squint, oral (semi-ish public; F receiving), reader’s nickname is Poppy- zero physical description, these two hot dogs are just trying to make up for lost time, if I missed something let me know

A/N: Uhh, this chapter ran away from me. But it worked out cause now these two get some lovin’ and we get an extra chapter! Thanks so much @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being the sweetest beta reader as always— I appreciate you and your eyes so much!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

“You don’t think she’ll be mad?”

“No Dieter, I don’t think she’ll be mad. Poppy’s totally going to understand, she loves you and will support whatever you do.”

Diem had always been able to reassure him when he needed it most, especially when it came to you— the one good thing in his life he refused to mess up. 

“Please don’t mention anything, I want to be able to do it in person— I’ll probably just tell her tonight.”

“Oh, shoot— I was just going to text her right now, ‘Hey Poppy! I wanted to tell you before Dieter did…’” Diem’s voice dripping in sarcasm, acting like she’s typing out a message on her phone. “Of course I won’t tell her— My lips are sealed!” Pretending to lock her lips and tossing an invisible key over her shoulder, laughing at his annoyance with her. 

“I can’t with you.” He sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Dieter paces around the kitchen, not really sure what to do with himself, ready far sooner than he anticipated— nerves buzzing with excitement knowing he would be seeing you in 30 minutes— to pick you up for your date.

First official date. 

You had both laughed at how backwards it felt. Your first kiss. Your first time together. Your first ‘I love you’.— all done before you had even managed to go on an actual date. 

Finding a Friday that worked with your busy schedule, but that also led into a weekend where you could spend it together uninterrupted— no plans, just together. 

Dieter wanted to, as he put it, wine and dine you. He made reservations for 7 at a somewhat fancy Italian restaurant, only telling you to get dressed up in your favorite dress and that he’d pick you up at 6:30. 

He can’t remember the last time he had put this much effort into a date, probably due to the fact he hadn’t really ever been on one in years. 

Sure, there were a handful of women and men on his arm at many times in his life, accompanying him to five star restaurants across the greater Los Angeles area, pictures of them stumbling into the streets plastered across the tabloids the next day. 

‘Dieter Bravo & Mystery Woman Dining at Hollywood Hot Spot: Is She the One to Tame this Bad Boy?’

‘Dieter Bravo Seen Dancing with New Beau at Packed Nightclub’

Many were a lame attempt at a PR stunt, to draw attention to his upcoming movies he’d be starring in— but most of them were also meant to keep his name in the positive spotlight, distract from the shit show of his life behind the scenes. 

There were a few that felt like a little more than weekend arm candy, only to find out he was the one catching feelings, while they were looking to catch a free ride to stardom. 

There was the model he met on the set of a cologne campaign, also a sweet bubbly aspiring actress. The whirlwind fling seemed to move at lightning speed, and against his better judgment and the concerns of his people, she moved in after only a few short months of them seeing each other. Their relationship had been one of his many attempts at getting sober, wanting to give his best to her, but things became increasingly tempestuous as Dieter pulled away from the wild parties and she went out with friends, only to come home as the sun was coming up— leaving Dieter bored and alone. When Dieter caught word of her affair with his closest friend and fellow actor, he kicked her out of his house and began to spiral back into his old ways. 

Then there was the time with ‘what’s his face’, Dieter vaguely recalls what he looked like— let alone what his name was, gallivanting around Europe taking in its beautiful countryside, experiencing the food and the touristy atmosphere. When time came for them to head home, Dieter needing to prepare for a new role, he found himself flying back alone— leaving ‘what’s his face’ in Mallorca to continue on his soul-searching journey, which included some business opportunities with someone by the name of Lucas Gutierrez. 

The last relationship, if you could even call it that, was a drugged out daze where he almost married the receptionist of a high end hotel, Dieter had been convinced her hospitality meant she was in love with him. A weeks stay turned into a hazy mess of pleading for her to have sex with him while he was high as a kite, and by the end of the week she was saving his life and he was even more sure she was his forever— until his publicist and crisis manager had to step in and tell him he was not of sound mind to make such life altering decisions. 

Dieter had written off relationships or anything that resembled some sort of courtship, especially while in treatment— wanting to get himself right before even thinking about getting involved with someone. 

And then a year later, you came out of left field and had him seeing what love could feel like.

A knock at the front door pulls him from his head, glancing over to where Diem is eating dinner with Wren and getting a shrug of ‘I’m not expecting anyone’, he goes to answer it. 

Opening the door, he wasn’t expecting to see you, stunned into silence as his eyes slowly roamed over your body— completely done up, no semblance of your innocent teacher-look in sight. 

You take his reserved demeanor, no real expression except for wide eyes and a slack jaw, as if there was something wrong with how you looked. 

“What is it? Is the dress too much?” You say looking downward, smoothing out the fabric of your silky black dress and matching heels. You had given yourself a once over in the mirror before heading over, thinking everything was in place and really feeling the look— but maybe you had missed something. 

“N-no— No! You look fine— I mean you look beautiful.” Dieter stammers over his words, the way your dress hugs every inch of you has his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. “Wow!”

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself there, handsome.” Biting your bottom lip as you adjust the wonky lapel on his navy suit, giggling at how you both can’t seem to stop staring at each other. 

“You’re early!” The realization hit him, looking over the clock on the oven to see he still had another 25 minutes before he even needed to leave. 

“I know. But I’ve been ready for the last hour and I was getting bored sitting on my couch waiting— plus there’s only so many songs on one side of a record and I got tired of getting up to flip it. So, I figured I’d walk here, kill some time.”

“Poppy, it’s like a five minute walk from your house.” He laughs, but his chest swells at the thought of you being so excited for the evening. 

“Actually, it’s a good 8, maybe 10 minutes in these heels— which by the way, are made for sitting not walking, so the sooner I can sit the better.” You mention as you shift your body from side to side, trying to relieve the tension that’s already settling into the balls of your feet. 

“Let’s go then.”

He runs back to the counter to grab his phone and his keys, stopping to give Wren a kiss on her head and a good night to both her and Diem. 

“You kids behave yourselves!” Diem quips with a smirk. 

“Uncle Dieter and Poppy aren’t kids mama! You adults behave!! Are they going to get in trouble?!” Wren confused, trying to wrap her head around the whole thought of her uncle and Poppy not behaving. 

Thankfully it’s a short walk, his hand securely on the small of your back as he guides you from the front door to his car, mindful of your slow calculated steps. 

A machine-like beep echoes out into the night as he unlocks the door, you start to bend down slightly to reach for the door handle, but Dieter grabs your wrist, carefully pulling you to him— your chest colliding with his. 

“You look beautiful, Poppy.” He breathes against your mouth, his nose gently nudging at yours before his lips seal over your awaiting lips. 

You can’t help the small whine that escapes your throat the moment his tongue slowly invades your mouth, eliciting a lustful moan of his own as he deepens the kiss. 

With his hands firmly grabbing onto the globes of your ass, pulling your lower half as close to him as possible, he shuffles your bodies around before pressing your back into the side of his car, the cold metal hitting your bare back sends a shiver down your spine, his feet tapping against yours signaling you to widen your stance as much as your dress will allow.

The way his lips continue to move over yours paired with the slight grind of his hips, a prominent bulge rutting up against the ache that has begun to settle between your legs, your appetite grows for something a little stronger and involving less clothes— is it too late to cancel reservations?

Goosebumps scatter across your skin as the sensation of his fingers gliding over your thigh, breaching the slit in your dress and settling at your unclothed and heated core— no panties were a risky move with how high the slit of your dress went, but the choice was paying off earlier than you had expected. 

Your fingers digging into the back of his arms to help  keep you upright, fearing your legs might give out at any moment. 

“Can you be quiet for me?” He asks against your swollen lips— grateful you opted for a gloss over a stain of color, knowing this might have been on the menu for the evening. 

You can only manage a nod as a jolt of pleasure hits you the minute his fingers push into your dripping pussy. 

Dieter covers your mouth with his other hand, quieting the tiny sounds that you can’t help making with how his fingers move so intently against your velvety walls, tripping the tiny live wires that have you electrified and pulsing around his digits. 

“Fuck Poppy, I can feel you’re already there. What’s got you so worked up already?” Dieter’s words muffled against your warm ear, his husky voice aiding in the chase for your release. 

He moves his hand from your mouth, your lips parting as you take a few quick breaths, your mind actively trying to string together a few coherent words. 

“Y-you.” Your response is airy, as you start to feel the building pressure of your climax. 

“Me?” He asks, removing himself from where he had settled against your neck, giving you a mocking puzzled look, playing stupid—he wants to hear you say it. 

“Yes— ah! You! Y-you look s-so— oh fuck! So fucking pretty! Oh god, Dieter— don’t stop please!” 

His hand moves to rest behind your neck, holding your head up so he can watch the way your face looks the second he sends you into a euphoric state. 

It’s a subtle swipe of his thumb over your throbbing clit, that has you catapulting into a blinding nirvana. 

Dieter presses his lips in a leisurely haphazard manner to your fiery skin as you come down from your peak, slowly removing his fingers from your spent cunt. 

You manage to catch his hand the moment it leaves the underside of your dress, locking your eyes with his as you bring the two fingers, now glistening under the moonlight, that worked earnestly to satisfy you up to your watery mouth. You wrap your lips around them, tasting your tangy sweet arousal, releasing his hand and wiping the corners of your mouth— Dieter practically coming in his suit pants at the sight

“Fuck, Poppy! You teach kids with that mouth of yours?” Eyebrows raised in question as he jokes at the lewd, yet arousing, gesture. 

“I knew you’d be a dessert before dinner kinda guy—” You reply, pressing a kiss to his cheek then whispering into his ear, “Hmm, plus, that’s not the only thing it can do.” 

You lightly push him off of you, giving him a sultry smile and a wink, adjusting your dress before opening the door to the car and getting in. 

“Fuck me!” He breathes out into the crisp evening air. 

*

The restaurant was the perfect backdrop for the evening— an outside table tucked in the corner of their patio with dim overhead lighting, candles glowing between table settings, a heavy card-stock menu listing their elaborate dishes and expensive wines. 

You had told Dieter on the ride over that you would have been more than fine with the local pizzeria or even stayed in and cooked together— he said the latter would be added on to the list of options for next time. 

Dieter had opted to sit next to you as opposed to sitting across the table— you didn’t argue, agreeing that it felt more intimate having him closer. It also allowed Dieter to rest his hand on your exposed thigh the entire evening, running his fingers along the seam where your leg crossed over the other— at times your hand resting over his, lighting caressing the top of his or changing it up and interlocking your fingers together.

The conversation flowed nicely once you were both satisfied with the order for the evening, sharing of childhood stories and funny life moments kept you both engaged and connected throughout the night. 

“What made you want to be a teacher?” Dieter asks, munching on a crunchy piece of garlic bread, his hand still resting on your leg while his thumb caresses over your knee. 

You finish your bite, wiping the pasta sauce from your mouth. 

“Actually, my mom is a teacher— she was my sixth grade teacher too. When I was in college trying to figure out my path, I remembered the joy she got out of being with her students and how much she had helped kids in my class. I knew it was something I wanted to do too. I guess we’re kind of alike in a way, following our parent’s footsteps.” Giving his hand a brief squeeze at the realization, your eyes beaming as you look at him. 

He smiles at the coincidence, he likes listening to you share these parts of your life with him. 

“What did you want to be as a kid?” He asks before taking a sip of his ice water. 

“Oh no!” Laughing softly at his question. “You’re going to laugh at me!”

“Well, now I need to know!” Trying to picture what a younger version of you would have dreamed of being in your adult life. 

“I don’t want to hear a single thing when I tell you, you understand me Bravo!” Jokingly point a finger at him as you prepare to reveal your childhood dream. 

He draws an X over his chest as a promise, encouraging you to continue. 

“I wanted to be an actress.” You reveal in a low hushed tone. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He’s fighting back his laugh, tilting an ear in your direction as if he didn’t hear what you said. 

“I wanted to be an actress!” Your face scrunches up with embarrassment as you repeat yourself. 

“Would have never guessed!” It’s the smallest laugh that escapes, shaking his head in amusement. “What made you change your mind?”

“Fifth grade— I was the female lead in our class play, it was a musical. I was sure this was going to be the thing that proved how much I wanted to act, convince my mom to put me in acting classes— I secretly hoped that maybe I could make it big, then move to be with my Dad and I don’t know, prove to that I could be something to him.”

You take a sip of your white wine. When ordering earlier, you had told Dieter you would be fine with just water since he wasn’t drinking, but he had insisted it was fine— and you had to admit it paired well with your dish. 

“I practiced nonstop, to the point I think mother was counting down the days until opening night so she didn’t have to hear me belting out my solo song in my room. Opening night came, and my part was about half through the play— I was so excited. Once it was my scene, I walked out on stage, saw all the faces staring back at me and I just froze. I couldn’t even say my lines, let alone sing.”

“What did you do?” 

“I ran out of there so fast. Begged my mom to switch schools so I wouldn’t have to face my class again. My dreams of becoming a big star faded instantly and I realized also that wasn’t going to fix anything with my Dad. Could you imagine though? Me, an actress— that would be a fucking sight.”

You both laugh uncontrollably at the thought of you being a Hollywood star  and how different your life had become, agreeing that you ended up where you were meant to be. 

“When do I get to meet her?”

“My mom?”

“Yeah, I feel like I should meet the mother of my girlfriend— hopefully sooner than later.”

Girlfriend. 

You both hadn’t really discussed labels, and you were perfectly fine with letting things happen organically being this was all still new for you both. But also acknowledging this was something more than just casually dating someone you didn’t know.

“Well, she’ll fly in next Thursday and will be at the gallery for my exhibit on Friday, so you can meet her then.” You’re giddy at the thought of your Mom meeting Dieter, having spent so many hours on the phone with her talking about him. 

His face morphs into a look of panic at the mention of your gallery showing, deciding that now would be the perfect time to tell you the thing that’s been weighing on him the last few days. 

“What?”

“Poppy, about your showing. I got a call the other morning— they bumped up pre-production and I’ll be leaving sooner than originally planned.”

“When do you leave?”

“This Monday. I’ve been trying to figure things out, find some way to still be able to make it, but they aren’t really working with me— as of now, it’s looking like I’m going to miss it.” Now that it’s out in the open, he doesn’t feel any better now that you know, he knows how much this means to you and wants to be there for you. 

“Dieter— hey, it’s okay!” 

You can see the anguish looming over him, hating that he was nervous to tell you. 

“You’re not upset with me?”

“No! Why would I be upset? I mean, sure I’m a little bummed out, but this job is important to you.”

“But your art is just as important.”

“I appreciate you thinking that, but there will be others I’m sure. Maybe not at that gallery, but I’m sure I’ll find another place and I’ll convince them to let me show off my work there too.” 

“Thank you, for being understanding.”

“Of course, Dieter… You’ll just have to make it up to me in other ways I guess.” 

As the date progressed, you’re both completely satiated, barely able to take a single taste of the dessert you had ordered. 

Dieter shared more about his love for acting growing up, fun stories from movie sets and his favorite roles to date— you didn’t want him to stop sharing, the way his eyes lit up you could tell how passionate he was about his work, it made you fall for him even more. 

“Does it still make you happy?” You ask him, your elbow propped up on the table, hand under your chin, the answer seemed so obvious to you but you wanted to hear him say it. 

He laughs at your question, leaning against the chair back, taking a minute to collect his thoughts. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Driving Birdie to school one morning, she asked me the same question. Just funny I’m being asked again after being here for a few months now.” He explains, rolling the edge of his napkin between his fingers, knowing you’re going to want him to answer it truthfully. 

“Is your answer still the same?” 

“Well, Birdie said I need to listen to my heart.”

“And what does your heart say now?” You ask as you lean forward, pressing your palm over his chest, feeling the steady strum of his heart as he looks at you with the most loving gaze. 

Adjusting himself forward in his seat, angling his body closer to you, wrapping his large hand over yours and pressing them both close to his chest, the up turn of his lopsided grin slowly growing. 

“It says that I am happy. Happy to be alive and sober. Happy to be home— making up for lost time with Diem and Wren. Happy to have this opportunity to discover the joy I have for a simpler life. And more importantly, it says I am happy to have you.” 

Tears began to shimmer in your eyes, hearing him say how happy he was, was an indescribable feeling— he was so deserving of not only happiness, but love and you were so grateful he was feeling it. 

“I love you, Dieter.” Trying to sniffle back your tears, your hand cradles the back of his head, closing the gap between you as his lips settle against yours. 

He can taste the few tears that do manage to escape, their wet briney sweetness coating the ardent kiss. 

“I love you so much, Poppy.” 

*

The ride home was a comfortable silence, no real need for conversation, just being in the presence of each was enough for the drive back to your place. 

It was peaceful— your hand resting on his leg, your gaze focused on the way the houses and trees blurred together in passing. 

“What are you smiling about over there?” Catching the slight grin on your face as you look out the window, wanting to know what thoughts were the cause for it. 

You hum in response, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as your mind replays a loop of the entire evening thus far. 

“I had fun tonight— thank you.” Your head still resting against the seat, watching the way Dieter’s hands grip around the steering wheel, the muscles of his neck taut and flexed as he checks the mirrors. 

Acutely aware of the dampness that’s been lingering between your legs all evening, watching him right now you can feel your arousal beginning to pool and slowly drip down your thighs— grateful for your dress acting as a barrier between you and the car’s leather seats. 

The car jerks slightly as Dieter pulls it into your driveway, shifting into park and killing the engine, turning his attention to you, mirroring your position. 

“I had a great time too. Pretty sure I earned myself a second date, maybe even a little kiss goodnight.” 

His enthusiasm and lack of humbleness about his odds have you reeling, but it's his signature wink that hits you like a freight train that has you moving before your brain can register what’s happening. 

“I think you earned yourself a little more than that.” Your words are honeyed and laced in a seductive sugariness. 

A dual clicking, triggers the release of your seat-buckles, the snap back of the retracting belts reverberates through the car. 

A soft sliding of fabric against an oiled leather seat merely tickles your ears, trying to shift your body upward, your knee finally finding purchase to hold steady. 

A myriad of soft sounds expelled from Dieter’s side of the car. The rigid unzipping of his pants. The shuffling and pulling of excessive fabrics. A string of mumbled fuckshitohgodpoppyplease tumble from Dieter’s mouth as he watches the way your hand works itself over his hard cock. 

He’s putty in your hands, breathing ragged and tight with each swipe of your thumb over the head of his shaft. Gathering every glassy drop of pre-cum to help your hand slide effortlessly, pausing at the base of his cock for a moment— your firm grip producing another string of sounds from Dieter, mostly heady opaque moans. 

“Pop-Poppy! fuckfuckfuck! I-hnnnngh!! I’m gonna come if you— shit! If you keep that up!” 

“That’s the point Babe, I want you to feel good. Show my boyfriend how much he means to me.”

You can feel the way he tenses in pleasure at you calling him your boyfriend, the way he throbs in your hand as you resume your movements. 

“I’m going to miss you so much Dieter. Miss your stupid handsome face while you’re out doing what you love most. Letting everyone see how amazing and perfect you are.“ Your soft voice fanning across his ear. 

“N-no Poppy— You- fuck! I love you, the most.” His jaw is tight as he grits out his words. 

“I love you Dieter. It’s okay, let go— for me.” 

And he does. 

Warm spurts of cum coat the top of your hand and his dark navy button down shirt—  a painting of white Rorschach blots of arousal. 

“I’m going to miss you too, Poppy.” He manages to say, his throat raspy and dry. 

You find yourself flush against your front door, purse dangling from your arm, intoxicated by the way Dieter is kissing you fervently. 

“Dieter, babe! My feet are killin’ me! I’ve got to get these shoes off asap!” Taking a moment to catch your breath and search for your keys. 

Sifting through the mess of your purse, you miss Dieter kneeling down, his hand cupping the back of your calf as he attempts to undo the strap of your heels with the other, it doesn’t take long for you to feel your shoe being removed, the pressure instantly dissipating. His hands begin to work at your other shoe when you find your ring of keys, relief again as he removes the shoe and gently places your bare foot on your tiled porch. 

“God, that feels so much better! Thank— ah! Dieter!” 

Your skin feels soft under his touch, dropping a few kisses up the length of your exposed leg, stopping when he gets to the peak of your dress's slit, looking up at you to see nothing but want swimming in your eyes. 

He presses his hands on your hips, shifting  the fabric of your dress just enough so the slit allows him access to your cunt. 

A few bold licks through your wet folds has your knees buckling, his grip on you tightening to keep you from slipping, you’re so keyed up already that you know this is going to be a quick completion. 

But Dieter takes his time with you, and it’s worth it the minute your orgasm hits— a mixture of tingling excitement and hot lips between your legs. 

Your head lulls back against the door, as you wait for the sensation to come back to your legs. 

Dieter standing to his full height, shifting your dress back to its proper position. 

“I’ll have you know, I’m a dessert anytime kinda guy.” Devilishly smirking,  his lips damp with your arousal as he presses them to yours. 

“Stay. I’m not ready for you to leave me yet. Stay the weekend with me, please.” 

You’re practically begging him, and he finds it incredibly hard to tell you no— but sees no reason why he should. 

“I’m yours, Poppy. Show me where the bedroom is.”

[waltwhitmansbeard]

so i just read a post explaining why the op (and, according to the op, a lot of other people, even tho the post in question only had 32 notes, some of which were from people who disagreed with them) didn't like the cut to the crown keepers in last week's episode. while i'm totally on board with people not jibing with stuff that just doesn't work for them, i wanted offer some reasons why this seemingly hard pivot to people who are not the main characters of the story being told was a good decision to make (note good decision, not inherently the best decision, which i believe no one, including the dm, at a ttrpg table should ever be expected to make).

matt had an extremely powerful, extremely unexpected character decision dropped in his lap in the final moments of the previous episode. we don't know exactly how much time matt has between recordings, maybe a full week, maybe not, but either way, there's a very real chance that matt just did not have enough time to fully prepare a session to deal with fcg's death and what comes next.

sam now has to create a new character that a) is of a level with the rest of the party and b) makes narrative sense for him to be there. that takes time for both him and matt, and they might just need some space to work on that. when laudna died, marisha was willing to sit away from the table for several weeks because she knew that she wanted laudna to be resurrected, but sam may not want the same thing, and that's okay!

matt may want to fold the crown keepers into his main story, some or all of them—particularly dorian, whom both liam and the fans have been asking to return for a while now. dorian is clearly important to orym and the story that liam is trying to tell, and bringing the crown keepers in may be matt's way to do that.

matt—and dms generally—has always had to straddle a very fine line of making sure that his players are the main characters of their story who feel like their actions have real consequences and effects on the world, while also understanding that in reality, it doesn't make sense for half a dozen chucklefucks to have such an outsized effect on major cosmological goings-on like *checks notes* the potential release of a god-eater. this becomes especially true when you're on your third campaign set in the same world, and your players' previous ultra-powerful pcs are still around and definitely more adept and connected than their current pcs are. i, personally, think matt does a great job at walking that line, and one of the things he does that i appreciate is that he doesn't shy away from the fact that a) his players are powerful but not the most powerful and b) his players aren't the only one who care about what's going on in the world and who are taking actions to effect change. the current plotline re: ruidus is absolutely world-shaking and is causing all the divine girlies to cower in their demiplanes, so of course even the evil ones are going to be calling on their champions to help out. it makes more sense for opal to be involved (which, btw, matt has been hinting at for a while now) than not.

matt might need a fucking break! he's been doing this consistently for nine years now, and shit is complicated! handing over the reins to aabria for a week or two or three may be what he needs to not get burnt out.

dnd is an emotional game, and the entire cast might have been rocked hard by fcg's death. some space away for a week or two could help them process and regroup to get back into a story that is otherwise very stressful and action-packed.

or it's none of these! what do i know! i'm a random idiot on the internet! matt doesn't consult me on these matters! (though my dms are open if he wants to chat, i do have ideas)

i think it's tempting to think of the decisions made in and around critical role (or any ttrpg show) like those made for a television series, because the episodes are serialized and we love them so much. but this show is, first and foremost, a group of friends playing a game together, and not a carefully constructed narrative with the primary goal of entertaining an audience. the audience always has been and, frankly, always should be second to the wishes and fun of the people around that table. matt would not have asked aabria to step in and dm a crown keepers side arc if he didn't think it was a good decision for him and his players, and that priority is the correct one. we are being invited in to watch these friends have fun together, and that's a privilege that we're super lucky to have. as long as the cr story isn't doing things that are outright abusive or harmful to the cast or the audience, i don't think we should begrudge them the choices they make in the name of their own game.

again, it's okay if you're not vibing with the crown keepers! i didn't love the aeor arc of c2! not everything is for everyone! but i think accusing matt and the cast of narrative malfeasance is a bit much when, tbqh, they don't answer to us. they answer to each other.

[babydipper]

Gotham had terrible traffic, which was a practically unsolvable issue due to mayhem destroying public transport every now and then. Sage didn’t own a car, but CPS did and occasionally they would let them drive the blue Honda Odyssey to a particularly wealthier adopter. It was supposed to make it look more professional, except Sage didn’t think there was a way to convince someone that the Honda Odyssey was a professional vehicle. Sage had lobbed for a MiniVan, they would have so owned the vibes, but Betty from Finances had told them and their little campaign to fuck themselves with a bat and go to Hell.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Sage said, having stopped the car at the red light, and turned their head.

The kid in the shotgun was a curled-up mess of scrawny limbs and rage. Jason was elevenish, stubborn and vicious. He had a smoking habit, ran away from all the previous foster homes and cursed worse than Betty from Finances. Everybody said he was a lost cause, meaning Sage had a particularly soft spot for him and his antics.

Jason said nothing but put his muddy soles on the seat. He was a little shit like that.

“I mean it, Jason. This is the best I could get you. Ever. If you fuck this up, I can’t get anything better. To be honest, I can't possibly get anything at all. The next one is most likely juvie, considering your records, and I don’t want that.”

Jason was also what Sage called a rebound, the kind of a child that would always bounce back, too petty and strong-willed to let anything stop them from surviving. Sage thought he could dethrone God if he put his mind to it. However, even Sage's faith in the kid wasn't big enough to risk Gotham's juvie.

“You said that about McCullens, too,” Jason bit back.

“Bruce Wayne hasn’t really advertised his deep desire to get himself another orphan, when I was convincing them to take you,” Sage snickered. They started the car when the light changed. “And McCullens are perfectly fine people.”

“They made me pray before eating. Some weird Twilight shit was going on.”

Sage snorted. They knew McCullens were catholic. Surprisingly, they were also quite nice. They had been actually looking for Jason for two weeks before taking another kid instead. Sage had barely convinced them that little Lizzie was a better match and that it hadn’t been their fault Jason had run. Jason was Jason. He was a flight risk always and forever.

Besides, Sage had known Jason would just bounce back. Sooner or later, they both always ended up talking in their shitty office drinking dairy-free hot cocoa.

“Well, pray up then, because if Bruce Wayne can get you through college, then you are becoming a saint.” Jason giggled and it was one of the sweetest sounds known to mankind. “I am serious. If he wants you to call him dad, you are calling him dad.”

Sage saw Jason grin in their peripheral vision. “And if he wants me to call him daddy?”

“Then you are not doing that and calling me ASAP because daddy most likely means a pedofile,” they say in unison, Jason mocking them.

Sage raised their brows.

“I know,” Jason whined. “But what if I don't want to go to college?”

“Do you remember what happens to liars?” Sage asked, honking at some asshole. It maybe wasn't the best way to raise a kid, but Sage wasn't there to raise him. They were there to help him survive and so teaching survival in Gotham 101 it was.

“Joker finds them and puts their pants on fire. I know,” Jason whined again, crossing his arms. “What's college for anyway? You got a degree and your job is shit.”

Sage gasped, offended. “My job isn't shit, asshole. I love doing what I do. I chose this. I would never choose anything else. My paycheck is shit, but I knew what I was getting myself into. College saved my life, Jason. It can help you too.”

Jason turned away to look at the changing Gotham scenery. He was a lovely kid. Insanely smart. If Sage had had the means, they would have taken him in ages before, but Jason needed a parent. Sage was made to be a cool cousin at best. There was a reason why all the Alley kids were sent to them and the reason was Sage didn't opt to change them. Sage cursed, threatened, whined and snicker at them, but Sage also protected, told only the truth and gave hugs. Sage was predictable and safe.

“If you didn't want another round of my majestic driving, then you shouldn't have gotten yourself caught like a loser.”

That time Jason took an offended gasp and turned abruptly. “Take it back!”

“Take the L like a sigma and not like someone who has minus aura.”

“I don't know what it means, but take it back!”

“No way, there's no Internet on the streets? Who would have thought? Also, no take-it-backsies.”

“You are being a bully!”

“Tell that to McCullens.”

Jason laughed and Sage smiled too. Then, the boy fell quite, became even smaller, “What if I fuck it up again?”

“I'll do what I can to keep you away from the juvie. Find me and I'll help you. I promise. You know I only lie to Betty.”

“And because of that you wear skirts. I know,” Jason nodded with all the seriousness of an elevenish chaos gremlin. Good. Sage taught him well.

“Don't worry too much, though. I have a feeling Bruce Wayne is your ride or die. You'll be okay. He asked for you and all you have to do is answer.”

Sage stopped the car at the main gate to the Wayne Manor, but made no move to leave it. Jason needed a moment. He always needed a moment.

“What if I answer wrong?”

“Then you'll ask for him. He may answer right, even if you answer wrong.” Sage turned again. The pretty light of the golden hour painted Jason like a starved cherub. There was always something grotesque about the kid, but Sage thought it gave him more charm than anything else. “Just give him a chance, okay? It won't kill you.”

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Jason bumped his head against Sage's shoulder, leaving it there for a moment and breathing before returning to his seat and unbuckling his belt with a new purpose. “No, it won't kill me to try this one last time.”

[wordbreaker]

Strings ✷ Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Words: 2k

Description: If there is one person that can piss Eddie Munson off, it’s the new neighbour… or the three times Eddie Munson ends up angry and how it stopped. 

( SILÉAS says ... ! ) I wrote this last year when season 4 came out. It's not a masterpiece⏤I don't even write for ST anymore⏤but it's fun and I wanted to share it with you.

THE FIRST TIME Eddie wants to kill his new neighbour, it’s a Wednesday night and it's long past midnight. He knows she's the one making all that noise because it's not like Max Mayfield to blast her music for the whole neighbourhood to hear. The little redhead is far too glued to her walkman for that.

So there's only one other option he can think of.

A new trailer had been sold a week before, the one right in front his. If Eddie hadn't seen anything interesting in this event, he had no idea that the removal of the "for sale" sign would be the beginning of Hell.

He doesn't know what she looks like, the new neighbour, he just knows that she has an annoying tendency to think she's alone. 

In itself, she's not doing anything wrong, and he should even be happy that she's blasting AC/DC and not some shitty music at this hour. However, he has a D&D campaign to prepare for the club’s meeting next week, so he has no time to waste. The shorties—by which he means Sinclair multiplied by two, Henderson and Wheeler—have been bugging him to create a new one since the memorable end of the previous one. 

D&D is serious (at least for him), and Eddie won't be able to concentrate if he has to listen to that damn guitar one more minute. 

The last straw is the Highway to Hell solo.

While another neighbour shouts a totally useless "stop this shit!", Eddie opens his door with a bang—surely waking up Uncle Wayne in the process, or not because he too has to put up with this nightly concert—which slams brutally against the wall of the grey trailer.

From his doorstep he cannot see any light filtering through the curtains of the one opposite, but he does not trust this image: the neighbour is there and more awake than ever as Back in Black begins along its famous chords.

Three big steps to the trailer, three big breaths to calm down and three big knocks to call the neighbour. 

Not even a second later, the door opens and gives way to her, the one he is meeting for the first time. 

"Yeah?" 

His words fade into his throat before he can utter them, the sight before him leaving him speechless. A cigarette in her mouth, barely hanging on, she looks at him with a blasé look, probably in a hurry to get back to her business.

Wisps of smoke form their hazy arabesques and intoxicate him, or perhaps it is the creature that has just appeared in front of him. To be honest, he doesn't know if he's dreaming or if it's reality, but the woman watching him seems to have come straight from his imagination. 

Tattoos blacken and decorate her skin in a constellation of ink that he wants to admire but can’t—maybe he does sneak a peek—because they're hidden by a big Iron Maiden shirt that falls over bare legs. He swallows. 

Why is he here again? 

That's exactly the question the neighbour asks him. Her voice is low and hoarse, damaged by tobacco and probably other substances. It seems to have collected dirt, sown by something called Life. In any case, the neighbour seems to have seen and done some shit. 

Eddie tries to answer. However, he can't take his eyes off the guitar hanging around her neck. It's simple, black but decorated with a few stickers that remind him of its owner's tattoos, and it's beautiful. Here's another point in common. Less so than his sweetheart, obviously, but it is metal, her guitar, almost as much as the one who holds it. 

So, she was the one playing. 

"Could you turn down your amp? I'm trying to get my campaign ready for my D&D club."

She scoffs, before muttering a "nerd" that he hears perfectly well despite the lowered tone. He thinks she did it on purpose. He doesn't really care. The word isn't said as aggressively as when Jason does it. It even sounds affectionate in her nicotined mouth (which he wants to taste but that's a detail for later, preferably tonight, late at night, and alone). 

"Don't worry, I'll turn it down." 

And without a goodbye, she slams the door, leaving him speechless from this encounter and perhaps, the mere sight of her. That night she keeps her word and Eddie can finish his campaign in silence. 

THE SECOND TIME Eddie wants to kill his neighbour is when he is himself strumming his guitar one night to try to master the recently released Master of Puppets. The chords frustrate him because he can't string them together smoothly.

If that's the beauty of the art —the failure, the determination, the practice and ultimately the success—it's fucking annoying as of right now. And on top of that, he has to deal with his neighbour's solos, which are much better than his own. It's humiliating, and it doesn't help him to concentrate.

He lets out yet another grunt, a clear sign of his irritation, when at the other end of the path he hears Master of Puppets performed to perfection. She got to be kidding him. She must’ve perfect pitch, he thinks. Nobody can learn a song that fast, especially one like that.

She's beautiful, she's charismatic and she's a better guitarist than he is. It's him, only better, and just thinking about this makes him start to hate her as a string threatens to break under the pressure of his bloody fingers.

Or maybe it's not annoyance but rather misplaced frustration at his ineptitude to dare to ask her out. 

"Nice solo!" he hears from his open window. 

He thinks he's dreaming, but no, when he looks up, there she is, on the other side of the road, her guitar in her hand.

Tonight, she smiles and even waves at him. It's a nice change from last time. Her face lights up and becomes more beautiful. No cigarette between her lips either, although there is smoke coming out of the window all the same. It is far too thick to be from any Marlboro. The smell reaches him—Hawkins has been trapped by the wind for several days—and gives him the answer to the question he dares not ask.

It's weed.

An unhealthy jealousy takes hold of his body. He wasn’t the one who sold it to her. 

His thoughts wander and he imagines himself smoking with her, both of them lying in her room, a metal vinyl ripping through the restful silence. His hand would caress her soft thighs, while she would play two or three chords and they would kiss two or three times. 

"You've got good taste, Munson!"

She knows his name. He doesn't. That's enough to snap him out of his stupor. 

"Thank you..!" he yells and waits. 

"Y/N!"

Strangely enough, he doesn't care that she makes noise if it means she answers him.

It's a nice name, almost too much so when it's said in such a broken voice. But at the same time, it makes the sound addictive.

Eddie wonders what his name would sound like in her mouth, when she's underneath him, and his mouth ventures down her throat, her stomach and even lower...

Stop. She may be beautiful and talented, but she's still fucking annoying. 

"I'm not bothering you, am I?"

He should say yes, because of course she's bothering him with her chords flowing perfectly while his are jerky, but with those big eyes looking at him, how could he say anything but no? 

"No, don't worry. I think you could teach me a few things, even.”

"I heard you, though, Munson. You’re good with your fingers." 

He nearly chokes as a sudden wave of heat travels down his spine and goes straight to his lower abdomen. It’s an innuendo; it has to be. And yet, the girl's expression remains innocent, almost too much so in his opinion, but he's not thinking straight. 

Fuck, he really needs to stop with the neighbour. Besides, it's a cliché, "the neighbour". It sounds like the pitch for some cheesy movie Harrington sells in his crappy shop, and Eddie's never been one for cheesy romances. 

THE THIRD TIME Eddie is frustrated with the new neighbour is when she turns her amp up to max and plays another Metallica solo.

Immediately, Eddie is on his way, as he was that first night, to knock on her door.

He's exhausted.

The teachers are giving him a hard time about a diploma he won't get, Jason's critics have multiplied in the cafeteria, and above all, Henderson won’t stop making fun of him and his embarrassment when he talks about the neighbour.

According to the boy, he has a crush on her. This is ridiculous, and it pisses him off. No matter where he goes, even to the high school where she doesn't go and therefore where no one is supposed to know her, he can't escape her.

Everything brings him back to her. 

So, this guitar solo is too much. He drums more than he knocks on the door, shaking the flimsy walls of the trailer. Immediately the music stops, and she appears in front of him. She has a joint in the corner of her mouth. The smell intoxicates him—or is it her fruity perfume?—but he maintains his stance. He won't let it happen this time. He's determined to tell her what he's thinking. 

“It took you long enough.”

She takes him by the hand and pulls him inside. The decoration is basic, it's the posters of different bands that make her personality shine. It's much neater than his house, though, he must admit. 

“You? Huh? What?” he stammers.

“I've been trying to get your attention for days, Munson. Days. My fingers are bleeding because you don't have the balls to come here. Seriously, you couldn't have put me out of my misery sooner? I mean... better late than never, but... Fuck.”

Eddie doesn't understand. It must show on his face. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes are wide, his mouth is half-open, and his arms are flailing. Everything about him is in disbelief. Y/N sees it perfectly and sighs, exhaling smoke with it. Tangible frustration. She massages the bridge of her nose, as if this gesture will give her the courage to put up with him and his inability to think. 

“I like you, Munson. I thought that was obvious.”

The neighbour, she pisses him off. She's beautiful, she's more metal than he is, she's a better guitar player than he could ever dream of being, and now she's even got more balls than him. That's the last straw.

“Oh no! No! No! No! I was supposed to say that! Fuck! It's bad enough that you've mastered Master of Puppets while I'm still struggling and now you're the one taking the reins and deciding that you have a crush on me. Hell no! I'm the one- humph!"

She seals their lips, kisses him, and that brief but obvious moment makes his heart beat a thousand miles an hour. Eddie thinks it's more to tell him to shut the fuck up than anything else but he indulges in the moment.

As she bites his bottom lip and leaves the taste of weed behind, he allows himself to tighten his embrace, his hands closing over her, touching the grain of her skin from the small of her back to her neck. Her lips are much sweeter than he thought they would be.

“Can you please shut up, Munson?” she finally says, exasperated. At least that's what she's trying to sound like, but she's far too cute as it is. Her hair is tousled, her lips swollen, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks warm to the touch. He can't help it: he steals another kiss from her, which she promptly returns. 

“Does this mean you're going to stop playing at three in the morning to piss me off?”

“We could play together? After you explain the rules of D&D to me,” she offers.

His heart misses a beat, and he smiles. 

That's the last time he's angry with the neighbour. 

[raayllum]

Something I’ve been noticing a lot in my current rewatch is how Rayla and Soren are foils…Soren being the failed crownguard (“failed” in large part bc of his father’s choices) who ends up on a quest to kill his little king… Rayla trying to make up for her parents’ failures as dragonguards and going every extra mile to protect Zym but taking Ezran under her protection as well (sometimes FROM Soren)…, Soren runs Viren through for trying to kill Ez but he’s just an illusion, the real Viren is trying to kill Zym, and Rayla is prepared to die to stop that…then Rayla goes but Soren stays, and when she comes back he’s taken up her role as the moral center of the show, arguing points that she used to make

I tried to see if you’d written anything about these two being foils specifically but tumblr search is… you know lol. I would love it if you could point me to a relevant meta if there is one! If there isn’t, I hope my thoughts were interesting lol they make me emotional

Y'know funnily enough I don't think there ever was a dedicated Soren&Rayla from almost anyone (of course I could've missed it, but at least not from me) precisely cause from what I remember of early post-s3 arc 1 days, their foil relationship was just... a general fandom consensus of everyone going "Oh yeah that checks out" and kinda left at that.

After all, Soren is the princes' sworn protector who tries to kill them, makes his way back onto the right side, and then 'kills' Viren (his father) in order to protect them... whereas Rayla is their sworn killer who defects from her father in order to protect those same princes, and then she actually kills Viren (if Aaravos and Claudia hadn't intervened) in the same episode. More than that, they both leave behind their previous "hey kill these kids" roles in favour of being a Protector of their respective princes (Soren with Ezran, Rayla with Zym) respectively likewise in 3x09.

You're absolutely right that Soren and Rayla both rely a lot on their physical fighting skills, and this parallel in regards to failure always stands out to me in S3:

Soren: As crownguard, it was my job to make sure that nothing happened to him. No matter what. So when the Moonshadow elves came I did everything I could to protect him. But it wasn't enough. I just... don't want to fail you, too. Rayla: It's me, and it's all my fault. I failed them. I let them all down. They're right to reject me. I'm not good enough, and I never will be.

as does this one for Runaan-Viren, because Runaan may have brought his teenage daughter on an assassination mission, but she's never seemingly scared of him the way Soren is of Viren

even if both fathers take issues with 'fear born' weakness at least in theory

And of course there's some other parallels scattered throughout, which makes sense: 1x01-1x03 is basically Rayla speedrunning Soren's S1-S3 arc of perpetuating the cycle of violence to actively trying to stop it by joining forces with your previous 'enemy'.

I think in a lot of ways Soren was exactly the sort of human Rayla had prepared her whole life to kill -- he's proud, he lies, he's not a 'good' person (at first) -- but of course, now they're good friends and it's very sweet to see. Arc 2 has less direct foils, but it's still there, y'know? Just more quietly in the background.

For example, enough has changed since 2x07 that now in 4x05 their roles have virtually switched, since Soren is the one campaigning to save the dragon while Rayla, although not the aggressor, is saying to walk away. I expect S6 Rayla to take some of Soren's 'protector' quality on further in regards to "doing everything you can" when Callum gets possessed. Possible 5x08 parallels also stand out to me with the concepts of identities (names), ownership vs agency, and compassion against the enemy currently wailing on you through future possessed!Callum and Elmer parallels.

The two are also in for a real pickle since they're the most "these people are the bad guys, we're the good guys" in the show... and it's like sir your sister is evil and ma'am your boyfriend is going through a corruption arc, you're in for some rude awakenings. That said they do have their unbreakable bonds of love with Claudia and Callum respectively, so who knows. It'll all work out. (Eventually.)

On that note we can also see some parallels between 2x02 and 3x03 perhaps... Rayla accuses Soren of trying to kill Ezran but explains it poorly, so Callum gives her as much as he can but doesn't side with her in the moment (which to be fair it is Quite a leap so like Callum you're so valid) VS Soren poorly explaining Viren asking him to kill the princes and Claudia not siding with him. The difference is that in the face of more evidence in favour of Claudia + Soren, Callum still sides with Rayla, and in the face of more evidence against Viren ("You'll understand when you see the first to change" -> "Claudia, you're changing too"), Claudia still sides with Viren, but I digress.

I'd also argue that Ezran is the moral centre of the show (at least to me) simply because he's the only one in the main cast who hasn't entered the 1) you did terrible things in the name of love/protective relay and 2) he's pretty measured and compassionate 99% of the time (but I do love the 1% when he's not let me tell you).

I talked about it in this meta (which is 2+ years old jc) about how like a good moral line event horizon measuring stick is "how does this character treat Ezran" and if they're treating him poorly they're not doing the right thing, and if they're treating him well then they Are, but it doesn't go into S4 or S5 so like. Mileage may vary

Last but not least: I do have a Sorayla tag for headcanons edits brotp content in general so if you want more of them, that's what I'd recommend, with fics such as "flower crowns" (oneshot) and "if heaven and hell decide" (completed multichap, 60k) for their dynamic

[polluxhale]

Aerden's Story Dajjalen's Story *There may be some stories that go in between this one and the previous, but Aerden-mun has been busy and will write when he can! For now we wanted to get this out there!*

So much of this campaign had felt like a fever dream: From the moment he told Aerden to stay safe and not play the hero just before Dalaran’s fall, to the moment he watched Queen Ansurek plummet to her death, and even now as he sat in the City of Threads with a thousand-yard stare up towards the massive cavern’s ceiling, everything felt so far away. He managed to maintain his focus when needed, but having to report your own son as ‘missing, presumed dead’ had taken a harsh toll. 

How long had it even been now? Time dragged on, yet felt so quick to pass at the same time. He hadn’t felt this way since all that time he spent in the hospital, but he would happily do that all over again if it meant Aerden was safe and sound. Why didn’t he make him to go to the evacuation portal? Why didn’t he just stay by his side? It was useless to focus so much on the ‘what ifs’, but the stillness and silence around him forced it all to the forefront of his mind.

He had already lost so much in his life.  Why did it have to be Aerden?

There were small moments of reprieve in victory, and in times when living captives had been found and rescued. There was still hope to grasp onto, and Pollux searched every face they found, dead or alive, only to deflate a little more and more over time when none of those faces were Aerden’s.

He still had some hope. Aerden was resilient, resourceful, and much more powerful than he ever gave himself credit for. If anyone could make it in this hellhole, it would be his own flesh and blood. For now he would have to cling onto that hope, and throw himself into his duties.

“Hale, letter for you.” One of the other men held up a small letter between two fingers before passing it over.

It wasn’t unusual to get letters and packages during a campaign, it was always nice to receive something physical from loved ones back home, even with the instant gratification that comm messages brought. Although the moment he saw who it was from, his heart nearly beat out of his chest: Aerden.

I’m safe and in Dornogal.

That first line was exactly what Polllux needed to read, and it felt as if the weight of the world suddenly lifted from his entire body.

I would have sent you a message on your comm, but I lost mine and I don’t really have any numbers memorized. I’ll tell you more in person, but just know for now I am safe at the military outpost, Dajjalen is here with me too. He’s kind of in rough shape, but he’ll be okay. Please stay safe, I’ll see you soon. Love, Aerden

Pollux breezed through the words a few times just to ensure he had read everything correctly. This was Aerden’s handwriting and his signature, stamped a couple days ago, so this had to be real. He pressed the letter to his chest and smiled to himself. There was still a small part of him that would remain skeptical until he saw the boy in person, but for now he could finally breathe again. 

He took out his comm and sent off a quick message to Khaeris: 

‘I heard from Aerden, he’s safe. I don’t know the details. Can you let Pyra know?’

@aerdendios @kharrisdawndancer @pyraelia

[universitypenguin]

Aliceeeeee what do u think our Lloyd and princess would do for v-day? 💓💓 Would they actually celebrate with each other 🙊👀

Lloyd Hansen & the Valentine’s Day Campaign

Summary: Determined to top the efforts of any previous boyfriends Princess has celebrated Valentine’s Day with in the past, Lloyd launches a campaign of romance.

Masterlist

Word Count: roughly 1,900

Author’s Note: I loved this ask because I haven’t written anything that’s pure fluff in a while. Lloyd was so cute in this short story. 🥰

Warnings: Fluff. Lloyd is a sweetheart, but he’s a conniving sweetheart with a competitive streak.

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

You roused slowly, drawn into consciousness by the stroke of Lloyd’s palm across your back. It was a much better way to wake up than to the blare of an alarm clock. With a groan, you stretched and rolled over to plaster yourself against him. Lloyd chuckled at your attempt to burrow into his chest and block out the bright light streaming in from the east facing window.

“Good morning, Princess.”

“Mmmmmff.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day…”

Lloyd’s words knocked the lingering drowsiness from your mind, bringing you to full awareness in a second.

“Valentine’s Day?”

Why, exactly, was Lloyd commenting on Valentine’s Day? You’d witnessed his reactions to the past three Valentine’s Days. He was anything but amused by the annual celebration of love and romance.

“Yes, I said ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ because it’s Valentine’s Day,” he said.

You pushed off his chest, leaning back to put an arm’s length between you, examining him from a distance to see if he’d grown a second head overnight. Because the Lloyd Hansen you knew despised Valentine’s Day.

“It’s considered polite to respond to the greeting of “Happy Valentine's Day,” by repeating it back to the person who originally said it,” Lloyd said.

“Uh… sure, it is. But that only stands if the person saying it hasn’t made their hatred for the holiday perfectly clear in prior conversations.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Allow me to replay some of your previous comments about the holiday…”

Lloyd groaned. “Princess! Give me a break.”

You held up a finger. “Two years ago you claimed Valentine’s Day was the greatest scam ever played on society. Last year you said Esther Howland was your personal hero for turning love into a multi-billion dollar industry. You’ve also claimed that if you could have dinner with any historical figure, it would be her, because only a true genius could turn a fake holiday into an absolute cash cow.”

Lloyd huffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! This is the day of love, and I’ve never said any different.”

Mimicking him, you lowered your voice. “Valentine’s Day is a brilliantly designed con by a Victorian spinster that’s poured billions into an otherwise sluggish retail month for more than a century! The candy makers and the floral industry should build her a monument.”

“That jogs my memory,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You said men benefit the most from Valentine’s Day because it reinforces societal expectations of marriage and romantic commitment.”

“Depending on the relationship, Valentine’s Day can turn into the male equivalent of buying an indulgence,” you said. “If you get her the right flowers, and make sure all her friends see them delivered, poof! The crap you pulled last week is forgotten.”

His expression turned sour and you laughed.

“Did you say those things because you meant them, or just to shut me up?” he asked.

“A little of both. Why?”

“Because, while I stand by my position on Valentine’s Day being a corporate scam, and I agree with your point that its’ a form of social control, this is also a day where I’m expected to perform-”

“Oh, really?” you giggled.

“Zip it, Princess… as I was saying. Because we’re lovers, and because I hate disappointing you, I’m officially celebrating my first Valentine’s Day. The dancing monkey routine starts now.”

Unable to hold onto your composure a moment longer, you dissolved into giggles.

Lloyd growled, snagging you by the waist and nipping at your ear. “Laugh all you want, but trust me. You’d better enjoy this. If you don’t, I will sulk.”

“I’m already having the best Valentine’s Day ever. That little presentation was a treat of its own.”

He perked up, a smug gleam coming into his eye. “Then we’re off to a good start. Now, go downstairs and find your first official treat of the day.”

Because it was Lloyd, and you knew he never did anything by half-measures, you bounded down the stairs. Had he sent you a dozen red roses? Two dozen?

In the foyer, the arrangement was waiting on the front table. You gasped at the sight of sixty long stemmed red roses, arranged in a cloud of baby’s breath. Then the absurdity of it, and the difficulty that must’ve gone into getting such a large bouquet at this time of year, made you laugh. You looked up at the sound of footsteps to find Lloyd behind you.

“You could have gotten away with far less, you know. I’m a pretty cheap date.”

“I know, but I have a reputation to uphold.”

He led you by the hand, into the kitchen, and you saw the dining table had been laid with fine china and a pristine white table cloth. The smell of freshly made French Toast and syrup was mouthwatering.

“Just wait,” Lloyd purred into your ear. “Today, I’ve got all the bases covered.”

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

The comment he made about ‘having all the bases covered’ slipped by you, probably on account of the delicious French Toast.

But at the office, two hours later, during your morning meeting with the paralegal team, there was a knock on the door. The meeting was interrupted by the arrival of another bunch of flowers. This one was more modest, but the splendor of two dozen pink roses had all the girls gushing. Savannah snagged the card and you nearly panicked at the thought that Lloyd might have signed it. Instead, he’d written a cryptic note.

I know this bouquet is smaller than the one I sent this morning, but I wanted you to have something for your desk. Love, your dragon.

You couldn’t make eye contact with Jen, who undoubtedly knew who the sender was. The dragon was something she’d taken to calling Lloyd in response to his nickname for you. When you mustered up the courage to make eye contact, she was smirking, her eyes bright with barely contained laughter. As you carried your arrangement upstairs, she darted into the stairwell behind you.

“Today’s a stairs day, huh?”

“Yes, because if I take the stairs, you and your sprained ankle can’t follow me,” you said.

“It’s no big deal, I’m already in a boot.”

Jen bounded after you, her movements as agile as women half her age dreamed of being.

“So, what did he send to your apartment?”

“Jen…”

“Loosen up, I’m impressed. Lloyd hates Valentine’s Day with the kind of fervor turkeys hate Thanksgiving. Is he jealous or something?”

“No, there’s no one for him to be jealous of!”

Jen laughed. “Two floral arrangements in one day? He’s got a bee in his bonnet.”

“This morning he told me he’d covered all the bases. I guess this is what he meant.”

“Really?”

Her tone was intrigued. Now, if anyone came close to hating Valentine’s Day as much as Lloyd, it was Jen. The two were so similar they’d probably been cast from the same mold. The bubbling delight in her tone worried you.

“Yeah. Why? What are you thinking?”

“Well… If I wanted to prove something, I’d go a lot further than just flowers.”

You froze at the door to the fifth floor. “Further? What’s further than flowers?”

Jen cackled, holding the door open on account of your full hands, then turning to head back downstairs to her own office, giggling. You stared after her. She’d figured out what was in store for you, but clearly wasn’t sharing the insight.

Then it started.

A courier delivered a package to your desk at ten-thirty, and you unwrapped a set of pink diamond earrings, with a matching necklace and ring. Before lunch another delivery came. This time there was a package filled with so many chocolates you had to take them down to the paralegal’s room to share. Jen skipped in, grinning ear to ear. You grabbed her by the elbow.

“Did he coordinate this with you?”

“Oh, no. Coordinate would be too strong of a word. But I did call him and suggest the chocolates, including which package he should order. I had a craving, and since he’s in a spending mood…”

“Jen! I have the entire office talking! This is like twelve days of Christmas! I’m worried the next present will be a puppy or something!”

“It’s cute, he’s trying really hard.”

“Is it freaky friday or something? You just said something nice about Lloyd.”

“He bought me chocolate. Well, actually he bought you chocolate, but there’s like ten pounds of chocolate in the room with us, so I’m feeling generous.”

“Your friendship is so easily bought.”

“This chocolate arrangement costs more than your rent, Princess. I might be unscrupulous, but I am not cheap.”

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

It went on like that. At the end of the day you had the bouquet, a set of pink diamond jewelry, enough chocolate to last the year (which you left with the paralegals, after taking a reasonable sized portion to your desk), a voucher for the day at the Waldorf Hotel Spa, and two bags of who-knew-what from a ladies boutique in Georgetown, which you didn’t dare open at work, because you’d bet your new diamond jewelry it was lingerie. Then, at four-thirty there was another knock at your office door.

A young man in a polo shirt stood there, with a visitor’s pass pinned to his front pocket.

“Is this Y/N’s office? I have a delivery.”

“Yes, that’s me. I can sign for it.”

“No need. Here you go.”

His grin revealed a gap toothed smile as he handed over what appeared to be a hat box. You waited until he left to undo the gossamer bow and crack the lid to peak inside. Gasping, you flipped it open, knocking the lid to the ground, and pulled out a large teddy bear. Overwhelmed by the cuteness, you squeezed it to your chest in a tight hug, your eyes misting with tears.

“So, this is the pièce de résistance of my Valentine’s Day campaign?”

Lloyd’s voice sounded from the door.

You looked up from the bear and rubbed your cheek against its soft head. He was grinning, enjoying your reaction, though the rest of his expression was confused.

“My Dad gets my Mom a new teddy bear for Valentine’s Day every year. She has a collection of like thirty at this point. He even built her a shelf to display them.”

The confusion in his eyes softened into delight as he watched you cuddle the bear.

“Well, I guess we’ve just started your collection.”

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

The lesson for Lloyd on his first Valentine’s Day was that Jen could be bought.

She’d made it clear her generosity was only due to his extreme efforts to make this a special day for Princess. He’d only had to upgrade the quantity of chocolate on his order, and then Jen came through with a win, divulging the secret of your parent’s teddy bear tradition. He couldn’t wrap his head around how thousands of dollars in lavish gifts could be upstaged by a fifty dollar stuffed animal, but who was he to question the sanctity of a family tradition?

Women were strange creatures, and Valentine’s Day enhanced their peculiarities in the most unexpected ways.

Perhaps he could renew this tenuous alliance with Jen next February.

- - -

The End

- - -

Masterlist

[lonelyfanboy48]

Gravity Falls Holidays, Festivities And Elude Traditions Chapter 1 The Northwest Escape

People in the town of Gravity Falls have spent nearly a week setting up for their annual Christmas festival. With roads in town being blocked off for people to walk around without risk, it’ll be bigger than last year’s festivities. This time, unlike years previous, they’re running the festival on Christmas Eve night, with events they’re throwing for gifts and prizes. With the weather news reporting that it'll snow tonight, everyone will have that holiday feeling before heading home, going to sleep while walking up on Christmas morning. However, not everyone will get the chance to enjoy the spirit of Christmas.

Miles away from town, the Northwest family had spent the last four months in their motel after they lost their mansion. Preston and Priscilla sat together with their apartment filled with their belongings that they’d managed to save. Pacifica stayed in her room, laying on her bed while dealing with the life she’s in. She had a miserable time, with the wealth becoming lower and lower with each passing month. She had to let go of her pony in order to save more money to stay in the motel. Especially since she’s not allow any pets inside the apartment. With Christmas arriving tomorrow, she couldn’t believe her parents didn’t do any of their standard Christmas traditions since December started.

She heard her bedroom door pushed open, revealing her mother as she sat up. “Pacifica.” She spoked. “We want you in the living room.”

“Okay.” Pacifica got off her bed, following her mother to the living room. She sat on the chair by the window while her mother sat next to her husband on the sofa.

“Pacifica.” Her father said. “We’re not gonna be doing any Christmas traditions like we used to. Not because we can’t run the campaign like we did last year. But we’re low on money.”

“I wasn’t really looking forward to that campaign if we were really doing it.” She lowered her head.

“Pacifica, pay attention to your father.” Priscilla ordered as Pacifica looked straight at her father.

“What we're dealing with is a lot more serious than Christmas.” Preston crossed his arms. “We can only stay in this apartment until the beginning of January.”

“We only have a couple of weeks left?” Pacifica reacted.

“I did everything I could!” He shouted. “I sold some of our belongings, praying they would be worth a fortune only to be made into a laughing stock.”

“Our prize possessions aren’t even worth more than five dollars.” Priscilla replied.

Pacifica was lucky that her pony sold more than anything her parents sold. But she knew she wasn't gonna live under a roof for much longer. She wanted to resolve the situation but for how worse it’s getting, she can’t even help herself to do it.

“So are you two planning on getting jobs in order for us to stay here?”

“...Yes unfortunately.” Her father groaned. “This is the first time we’re ever gonna find jobs that have nothing to do with our wealth.”

Ever since people have been celebrating Christmas at Gravity Falls along with the festival returning, it actually caught Pacifica’s interest wherever she’s in a better mood. “This may not be the best time but…” She looked outside the window. “...Can I go to the Gravity Falls Christmas Festival?”

“No. Out of the question.”

“Why? You allow me to go to the party at the Mystery Shack and even to the Mystery Fair there.”

“I said, NO!” Her father shouted. “Christmas joy isn’t gonna make you feel better.”

“What’s the point of going to a festival we never went to?” Priscillia added.

“I don’t have anything to do.” Pacifica retorted. “We haven’t been to the mall in months, we sold most of our golf clubs, and we just sold our-”

“PACIFICA NORTHWEST!” Her father stood up from the sofa. “We told you from time to time that if we stayed at that mansion, we would’ve still done those things, including the Christmas campaign.”

“Also, we only celebrate Christmas for ourselves. Even with the campaign, you can’t even spread cheer towards your friends when they’re with you.” Priscilla also stood up.

“But I’ve never seen my friends celebrate Christmas when I’m not with them.” Pacifica replied.

“And that isn’t a problem with us.”

“You can’t even find one person who has never celebrated Christmas to give them the best Christmas of their life down at the festival.” Preston turned his attention to the window.

“You don’t know that.” Pacifica said.

“I know everything.” He turned back to his daughter. “And don’t even think about disobeying my orders.”

Pacifica wanted to put her foot down, but even after she saved everyone from the mansion, her parents still refuse to see the error of their ways, unlike her. “You always keep controlling me, even without a wealthy future.”

“If we don't have one, so do you.” He pointed at her. They then heard someone banging on their door, catching they’re attention as Priscilla answered it.

“Yes?” She asked after opening the door, revealed to be the manager of the motel.

“We’re here to give you the latest bill of your time here.” The manager showed them the bill.

Preston sighed, wishing it’d happen at the end of the month. “Let’s get this over with.” He went to the kitchen to get his wallet, all the while he and his wife headed out of the apartment to take care of the bill, leaving their daughter all alone.

Pacifica couldn’t take the stress with her family anymore. Even with Dipper’s words taken to heart to rebel back, it won’t take long until it ends up punching her in the back. She then turned to the window again with a few snowflakes falling from the sky. Despite not getting a view of Gravity Falls itself, it only made her get pulled farther and farther away from the festival. She turned back to the apartment door with her parents doing the same bill payment while all alone, without anything to keep her occupied.

But she realized her parents only left her alone with the payment and nothing more. The closest she’ll ever get any sort of freedom nowadays. She turned back to the window with more snowflakes falling down, while turning back to the apartment door. She got off her chair, unlocked the window while pushing it wide open. She jumped out of the apartment through the window, landing on the snow while running away from the motel.

She ran as fast as she could, through the forest of Gravity Falls to get to the Christmas festival. But after a minute of making a head start, her escape didn’t give her any time. “PACIFICA!!!” Her father shouted outside of his apartment.

It caused Pacifica to clinch her teeth, she ran past several more trees to keep her more hidden from the motel, but there’s no going back. “I never realized my parents are a lot more stressed than me!” She reacted. She was this close to heading to the festival, but as she went past a big tree, she bumped into someone, causing her to fall into the snow. The person tripped, catching Pacifica by surprise while almost falling just like her. Luckily she kept her balance after grabbing a nearby tree.

“Kid, watch where you’re going, you almost-” When she stopped herself upon looking at the child, Pacifica turned to the person, revealing to be one of Dipper and Mabel’s friends from the Mystery Shack.

“Wendy?” She spoked.

“Pacifica?” Wendy walked up to her. “You were running away?”

“Yes.” She said, getting on her feet.

“Without a jacket?”

“I needed to get away as fast as possible.” She covered her arms from the low temperature. “I’m going to my first Gravity Falls Christmas Festival.”

This caused Wendy to blink, witnessing she isn’t the only one having the same idea. “WHERE ARE YOU PACIFICA?!” Preston yelled.

“WENDY!” Wendy’s father called, catching Pacifica by surprise.

“You’re also running away?” She replied.

“No time to explain, let’s hide somewhere!” Wendy grabbed Pacifica’s arm as they both ran to find a place to hide from their families.

[zoueriemandzijnopmars]

The Dutch political situation explained*

*to the best of my ability

So, our government collapsed last week and today our current prime minister has declared he will quit politics after the coming elections. So things have been happening and I thought, maybe some non-Dutch people saw some things in the news or on their dash and maybe some Dutch people who do not follow politics are also confused so it might be good to try and break it down. (And I'll try to stay objective)

Why did the government collapse?

That's a good question to start with actually. On the surface it's because they couldn't agree on a migration policy. The largest party, the VVD (right-wing, but if this was the USA it would be centre let's be real. Y'know what, see the figure of the Dutch political landscape at the bottom, they're right-wing but not conservative), which is also the party of the PM (Mark Rutte), apparently suddenly came with extra demands for how refugee families could be reunited and the Christen Unie (CU, a centre-left Christian party), the smallest party of the coalition, felt like they could not agree to these demands. The four coalition parties (others were D66, centre-progressive and CDA, centre-right Christian) are said to have together decided to let the government fall.

However, it is a weird thing to fall over, they have (had) much bigger crises and differences of opinion. These 4 parties have been together in the previous government as well and they almost finished their term, they fell over the Kinderopvangtoeslagaffaire (that is a real word) a few months before the elections were planned to happen. In short, the government had branded some innocent families as frauds, and demanded back a lot of money, resulting to them getting very large debts. Over the years it was discovered that non-white families were much more often targeted than white families and that the government had also known for years those families were innocent but tried to sweep it under the carpet.

All this to say that even though they resigned after all this was discovered, most politicians came back and it is actually still going on, the families are still not fully compensated. I can name about 4 more crisis that they should have dealt with but they (the VVD mostly) chose migration as the hill to die on. It was speculated to be a campaigning thing by Mark Rutte, but him resigning today seems to negate that.

Why is the PM resigning such a big deal?

Mark Rutte has been our longest serving PM ever. He has been PM since 2010, this was his 4th government. This means he’s about the only PM children and many young adults have known (I can personally only vaguely remember the previous PM and no idea who was PM before him). This also means our politics of the last 10 years have been dominated by the VVD. Because there have been many scandals during the years many people were totally done with the VVD and Mark Rutte. However we also knew what he was like.

I personally think the VVD has been getting a lot of votes the past years because some people liked Mark Rutte as PM and all those people will have to figure out who to vote for now. It is quite a weird idea to me that we will actually get a new PM, and a bit scary because while I didn't like Rutte, it could definitely have been worse.

So what about the coming elections?

There are more parties looking for a new leader. The current leader of the CDA has also said he’ll quit and it is unclear what the leader of D66 will do. The two largest left-wing parties, PvdA and GroenLinks have been working together more and more the past few years and they want to do the coming elections as one team, but their members first have to vote on the plans and if they agree it is unclear who will lead this. However, as you can see below, we have quite a lot of left-wing parties, which as a result are none of all very big, so it might be interesting to see what will happen if there’s suddenly one big party to vote for.

And then there are 2 other factors. Firstly, the BBB (right-wing, farmers’ party) became the largest during the provincial elections last year, while the coalition parties lost. Will people also vote for them during the national elections? And if they become the largest who will they be willing to work with in the government?

The last factor can be really important or be absolutely nothing. There’s this guy called Pieter Omtzigt, he was a member of the CDA, but they fought within the party and he decided to become independent. Now, he is quite popular, during the last election he alone got enough votes to theoretically fill 5 seats in parliament, and became well known because he was one of the main politicians trying to figure out the truth behind the Kinderopvangtoeslagaffaire (there it is again). However, it is completely unknown what he will do, will he stay in politics? Will he start his own party? (He doesn’t have much time for that anymore.) Will he join another party? (The BBB? Update: He said he will not join BBB) We have no idea, but if he decides to stay in politics it can become very interesting.

And this was my break-down of current Dutch politics. I hope it cleared some things up for some people. The main point is that everything is quite insecure right now and that it will take a while before we get a better picture, with the politicians all firstly going on holiday, it might take a while until we'll know when the elections are going to be and who we will be able to vote for.

[leasstories]

Nothing else matters (part 2)

TW: Mention of drugs, eating disorders, negative body image, smut, throwing up

Part 1 here

It is the fourth night of the road trip and you're finally ready to show your body to Eddie, you put on a beautiful lingerie set that you bought before the road trip just in case you would have your first time during the trip. You've been scared to show your body to Eddie because you find yourself too fat and you were afraid he wouldn't like your body. Tonight you are confident and you decided to use this confidence to show yourself the most vulnerable ever in front of Eddie. You trust him, you know he'll be caring and understanding. During this road trip, you've opened up to him more than you've opened up to anyone else in your entire life.

While Eddie is smoking his joint, you put on the red lingerie set, you look at yourself feeling very self conscious, but Eddie enters the van before you can have any second thoughts, you can hear him gasp and it takes everything in you not to cry. Eddie puts his hands around your body from behind and whispers in your ear "You look perfect in those underwear Sweetheart" he says that while caressing your waist, you turn to face him and kiss him on the lips, his lips part open so you can slide your tongue and you start a very long and heated make out session, you put your hands in Eddie's hair while he puts his on your waist, holding onto you. After some long minutes, you painfully tear apart, panting from the kiss before you look at Eddie, taking a deep breathe.

"I'm ready" you say

"You sure ? I don't want to pressure you" Eddie says

"I'm sure, I want to be yours" you say

Eddie grins, he can't contain his excitement "Good. Amazing-" he stops himself before saying "We can go as slow as you want baby, just say the word and we stop"

You smile at his gentleness before kissing him again, while you kiss, your tongues intertwining together, you unbuckle Eddie's pant, you can feel him grow hard against you. You then break from the kiss to slide his pants down, and then you take his shirt off , you see him looking at you in awe, but you suddenly become self conscious. Eddie looks at you before saying "You're beautiful to me baby, please remember that, and nothing else matters" you smile while Eddie takes your bra off, and then your pants off. Eddie kisses your neck while caressing your breast, you moan at his touch. "Tonight is about you sweetheart, let me pleasure you please" Eddie almost beg, you nod. "I need you to say it out loud baby"

"Please Eddie, pleasure me, make me even cum, I need to feel you inside of me". Eddie looks at you in awe, admiring your confidence, he knows this mustn't be easy for you, your body being exposed, but you did it nonetheless, and what warms his heart is that you did it for him, that's one of the reasons he want to pleasure you so bad. Eddie align himself with your pussy and put the tip of his cock at the entrance, he waits for you to adjust before going further. After you adjusted at his length, he started going back and forth, at first slowly. "Faster, please" you say in between moans. Eddie goes faster, it hurts but at the same time the amount of pleasure is immeasurable, you're a panting and moaning mess. Eddie keeps going back and forth while massaging your breast.

"I'm gonna..." you try to say

"It's okay baby, I got you, go ahead" he answers

Right after his answer you came on him and shortly after he came, inside of you.

You both lay down in the bed, panting and trying to recover from your previous activity. You lay your head on Eddie's chest while he plays with your hair, he knows you love it. After an hour of laying down, you both go take a shower together and wash one another, you then put on some pajama and both go to bed.

Hawkins Indiana, two weeks later.

It is a Friday night and as each Friday night you are at the DnD campaign, this time you don't play, you just watch, sat on Eddie's laps when you suddenly feel nauseous, you jump from Eddie's laps and run to the girl's bathroom, you kneel in front of the toilet and start throwing up. You can hear footsteps in the bathroom before hearing Eddie's soft voice "Is everything okay angel ?" he asks

You manage answering a "Mmh" before throwing up again

"Open the door for me baby, please" he asks with a pleading tone

"I..." you throw up again "I'm just sick" you say trying to reassure Eddie.

"Please baby, open the door" he pleads once again

"I don't want you to" you throw up again "see me like this".

After several minutes of emptying your stomach, you get out of the bathroom. Eddie rushes toward the towel and start cleaning your face.

"Thank you" you say

"Do you want me to bring you back home sweetheart ?" Eddie asks, concerned

"First of all I was supposed and I am going to spend the night at yours, second of all I'm not gonna make you leave in the middle of this campaign, I know how important it is for you" you say

"Nothing's more important than my sweetheart. Nothing else matters, remember" he answers

"I don't want to cut your campaign short, let's just go back" you say

Eddie is afraid that starting to eat more affects your body, that it makes you sick, he is afraid he is totally messing the situation up, worsening it.

While you walk back to the Hellfire room you ask "What's on your mind ?". Eddie doesn't answer, deep in thoughts.

"Eddie ?" you ask concerned while touching his arm

"Oh, sorry I was lost in thoughts" he says

"I can tell, what's bothering you baby ?" you say as you come into the Hellfire room. Eddie doesn't answer, instead he sits back on his throne and motion for you to sit on his laps.

Once the game is over you help Eddie cleaning up, you’re nauseous again so you leave the room running again, you can hear Eddie's footstep behind you, you arrive to the girl bathroom's, are about to close the door when Eddie blocks the door before you can close it, you kneel in front of the toilet and start throwing up again, Eddie takes your hair off of your face and rubs your back. Once you've emptied your stomach again you both head to Eddie's van. "Are you sure you don't want to sleep in your own bed tonight ?"

"What happened to the sentence you told me 3 weeks ago" you say playfully

"Which one?" Eddie asks, confused

"'Don't worry Sweetheart, my bed is your bed'" you try to imitate Eddie's voice, he laugh at that.

"that's still true, but y'a know what I mean" he says

"I really want to spend tonight with you" you answer reassuringly

Eddie parks in front of his trailer, he opens the door and both of you rush to the bedroom. You take your clothes off and slip on on one of Eddie's old t-shirt. You both lay down and you break the silence

"What was bothering you earlier?" You ask Eddie

"It's just... it's just that I'm worried" Eddie answers

"About what my love ?" you ask, concerned

"About you, did I push you too much with... food? Is that why you throw up?" he asks

"No, no, I don't think it's that" you answer anxious

"Then what is it? I can tell you're anxious." Eddie asks, even more concerned

You look even more anxious and don't dare to look at Eddie in the eyes "My periods are late..."

Eddie caresses your back as you start sobbing, it takes time for him to realize what it means, once he realizes he speaks "Hey, hey, it's okay we will figure it out, together, and whatever the outcome is, whatever your decision towards the potential outcome I'll be there. You’re my priority, nothing else matters" Eddie takes you in a hug and you sob in his chest, after 5 agonizing minutes for him you lift your head up "I... I think we might start by a pregnancy test" you say

"I'll go buy it tomorrow love, don't worry about anything, I'm here, I'll be here, forever."

"Forever" you repeat still sobbing in Eddie chest.

You both lay back down and you fall asleep in Eddie's loving embrace.

The next morning, you wake up to an empty spot next to you, you start worrying until you see the note on the bedside table, it says 'Went to go grab the pregnancy test, don't worry about me. You can have breakfast if you want -Eddie' and he drew a heart on the bottom of the note.

You go to the living room and wait for Eddie on the couch, he arrives around 30 minutes later with a rose in his hand, he hands it out to you "For you M'lady" he says.

You smile at the gesture and thank him with a kiss on the lips. He then hands you the bag from the pharmacy. You go to the bathroom and do the test, you get out of the bathroom and say in a shaky voice "We just have to wait now". Eddie grabs your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours.

After 15 agonizing minutes you help Eddie up and go to the bathroom to look at the test, you take a shaky breathe and do not let go of Eddie's hand, you look at the test and there are two lines. Eddie looks at you before saying "Does this mean..." you finish for him "It means I'm pregnant".

"What do you want to do sweetheart?" Eddie asks

"I don't know yet, but I'm not the only one involved so I won't take a decision that you might regret" you say

"It is your call to make sweetheart, you'll be the one carrying the baby for 9 month, no matter what is your choice I'll be here, right by your side" right after he answered you kiss him on the lips.

"We should take an apointment to the doctor to confirm the test though" you go to get up when Eddie stops you

"I'm going, you, you stay here you need to rest" he says failing to hide the panic in his voice

"I'm pregnant Eddie not sick, I'll come with you" you say

"I just don't want you to feel exhausted, I really don't know anything about pregnancy, I don't know what I have to do to help you" he says, anxious

You take his hand before saying "We'll figure it all out, together"

You go to Eddie's van who opens and closes the door for you before heading to the driver's seat. He then start to drive toward the hospital.

You enter the building and you both head to the secretariat. The secretary ask you what brought you here.

Eddie answers before you even have the time to process her question "My girlfriend took a pregnancy test this morning and it was positive we want to see a doctor" he says in one breathe.

You caress his hand with your thumb in order to calm him and it seems to work.

"A doctor can see you in 20 minutes if that's fine by you" the secretary answers

"Sure" you answer before going to sit down in the waiting room, Eddie is anxious you can tell even though he try to hide it, he is pacing around the waiting room, after 5 minutes of him pacing you gesture for him to sit down, which he does and you take his hand in yours.

After 15 more minutes, the doctor calls your name, you go to the doctor's office and he examines you before doing ultrasound, he shows you and Eddie the soon to be baby, you can see tears in Eddie’s eyes at the sight of this future baby, and at that moment you've made up your mind, you're gonna keep it.

You both get out of the appointment hand in hand. You look at Eddie before saying "I'm gonna keep the baby”

He looks at you with hopeful eyes before asking "Are you sure ?"

"I'm sure, I wanna do this, with you" you say

He smiles and then kisses your forehead and open the passenger door for you, you go back to Eddie's trailer before realizing "We need to rent our own place... but... we can't afford it..."

"I have some spear money from my... you know my non-legal selling" he says before adding "But I'll quit this and find a job"

"I'll find a job too" you say

"Not until you've gave birth" he says

"But we need the money..." you say

"I'll provide it for the both of us sweetheart"

"But-" he cuts you off

"No buts, I'll provide for the both of us" he says

You both head back to the trailer and eat.

You've been nauseous the whole month. When you announced your pregnancy to your parents a few days ago they kicked you out, you now live at Eddie's trailer. At the moment you're doing some chores while Eddie is doing what is supposed to be his last selling ever. When Eddie comes home, he wraps his hands around your waist and kisses your neck before saying "Stop doing chores, you need to rest, plus you're a guest here."

"I'm not a guest anymore, I am literally invading your space" you say

"Wayne and I both love having you around YN, and not because you do chores, because we love you. In a different way of course!" Eddie says.

You giggle at his dramatic tone toward the end of the sentence.

You then go to Eddie's bedroom to put on a jean as the two of you decided to go out to the mall this afternoon, you go to put your jean on when you realize that it doesn't fit you anymore, you look at yourself in the mirror and see you gained weight. You knew this was going to happen, but you weren't prepared, plus you've not fully recovered from your eating disorders, you sit on Eddie's bed and quietly sob. After a good 5 minutes Eddie knocks on the door before coming in. He kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his so he can see your face "What's wrong baby?"

"I'm fat" you say in between sobs

Eddie looks at the jean on the ground and then at you.

"You're not Sweetheart, you're pregnant, your body is changing so our baby can grow up and be all healthy. I know, well I don't know but I can guess that seeing your body change might be hard but I'll always love you, even with curves. You're the most beautiful girl to me. Besides I'll be by your side, every step of the way, remember?" You nod at his words.

Eddie goes through his dressing and tosses sweetpants at you "You can wear this and at the mall we'll buy you new clothes 'kay?"

You nod, still unable to speak. You put the sweatpant on and one of Eddie's Metallica t-shirt

You then leave to the mall, you first go get you new clothes and seeing the size of your trousers change is really hard for you but Eddie does everything to cheer you up, he even bought you a little Teddy Bear saying 'I love you', being a future dad really made him cheesy. You then head to the baby clothes section of the store, you look at all the pajamas and then at Eddie and says "How can I know which size to buy while the baby still isn't here?"

"I think we can buy the smallest size, I'd really like to buy one today" he says

You nod and smile at him. You pick out a plain black onesie and show it to Eddie

"This is perfect for my future little metalhead" he says

"I hope they'll have your big brown eyes" you say smiling

You both go to pay for the clothes and head back to the trailer.

During the whole pregnancy Eddie took care of you, he was there at every breakdown, every moment of doubt even though he was scared too. He was caring, maybe too caring, and here for you as he promised.

You're at your ninth month, it is the middle of the night when you feel contractions, your water breaks. You wake Eddie up in panic, it takes some time for him to fully understand the situation but once he has he carries you to the van, takes the bags and head to the hospital.

You gave birth to a beautiful son at 5 am, you and Eddie decided to name him Oz after the lead singer of Black Sabath.

You and Eddie have now a beautiful apartment and a beautiful son, and even though both of you don't have a lot of money, you really love your new life, with Eddie and Oz.

A/N: I'm so sorry the end is so bad and short but I didn't want it to be too long so... I really wish I would have wrote more about the pregnancy but it would have been too long, if you want I can make a whole one shot about YN being pregnant

[rhaenella]

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 1

Masterlist | Part 2

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut

Word count: 1.4k

A/N at the end.

Song: Royals – Lorde 

Montrose, R. 

The name of your next victim was written in elegant cursive handwriting on a small business card. Your employer had given it to you along with an envelope filled with your payment for the previous job you had just completed. 

The name seemed familiar to you. You briefly glanced up at your employer as you slipped out your phone to quickly look up the name he had provided you with. 

You typed in the name Montrose and within nanoseconds after you hit search, the app showed you thousands of hits on the name. Newspaper articles, clips of talk show appearances, book reviews, both positive and hate tweets (although the former outweighed the latter), and of course many, many pictures of the man. You recognised him instantly.

You raised a single eyebrow inquisitively, once more glancing at your employer. 

“I’m aware that it’s high-profile.”

You scoffed as you scrolled through the many articles. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Your employer cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “Can you do it or not?”

“Of course,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Good.”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”

You hummed, locking your phone and placing it in your back pocket. Your employer diverted his eyes, looking nervous? No — stressed — your mind supplied. You smirked inwardly. The man was desperate for this job. 

You’ve done work for him before. Six times, in fact. Two of which had been abroad, including the one you just completed. Your flight back from Toronto had landed just a couple of hours ago. And now here you were once more.

The man had resources and was rich beyond words. He had power. Lots of it. Which incontrovertibly led to him having many enemies. Enemies that he needed to get rid of. Quietly. That’s where you came in. 

But something was different this time. Your employer seemed off, more desperate than you’d ever seen him. Before he was always perfectly in control, never blinking an eye as he provided you with your next assignment or payment. The man was perhaps even more cold blooded than you. And that’s saying something. Nevertheless, he would never get his own hands dirty. 

Your nostrils flared, having had enough of his stalling. 

“Out with it, what is it?” You demanded.

Your employer glanced around before his gaze fixed on an old desk next to a broken window that had been boarded up. He kicked back a broken chair laying askew on the wood-rotten floor. He always preferred to meet in inconspicuous places. And if you might add, downright shitholes. 

He sighed as he cautiously leaned back against the desk, looking back over his shoulder to make sure it would support his weight. He definitely wasn’t overweight. But you were certain that even the weight of a feather could make the desk collapse in on itself. Surprisingly, the desk remained standing after it gave a slight squeaky noise. 

“I need it done within 48 hours.”

You couldn’t stop the bark of a laugh from escaping. The man had gone officially bloody nuts. Who the hell did he think he was? The king of England? In all honesty, he might actually wield more power than the king himself. But all of that was beside the point. 

“48 hours,” you snickered, shaking your head at his ridicule. 

“I know, I know,” he amended. “But I wouldn’t ask this of you if the situation hadn’t been this dire.” 

“Dire or not, the man is currently number one trending on social media. He’s a beloved politician, likely preparing his campaign to become mayor of one of the biggest cities in the world. And you think I can make him disappear without a trace within 48 hours?”

“Yes,” your employer replied. 

If the man and his ideas weren’t as delusional as the present situation would suggest, you would actually take quite a bit of pride in that simple statement. 

“It’s not simply a matter of the public eye. He must have well established security. I need time to figure those details out as well as his schedule.” 

You took a few steps closer, stopping a couple of feet away from your employer. 

“I can get it done, but I need time.”

“I don’t have time,” he all but shouted at you as he got up angrily, his attitude changing rapidly. The man was known for his temper, but you hadn’t witnessed it yourself yet. His control was really severely lacking today. 

“Which means you don’t have time,” he growled. 

The space between you reduced to mere inches but you held your ground. You weren’t afraid of some rich businessman who wasn’t used to being told no. 

You chuckled softly, making his eyes narrow to mere slits. 

“See, the funny thing is. I don’t need to do a thing. I don’t have to accept your ridiculous job offer.” 

A smirk grew on his face and he retreated a few steps. “Oh? But you haven’t heard the full offer yet.” 

Now it was your turn to narrow your eyes. Truly, who the hell did he think he was, playing with you like this? You briefly contemplated killing him on the spot, but really you couldn’t be bothered. 

“I am offering you three times your regular fee.”

Now this — this — made you stop right in your tracks. Yep, it was confirmed. The man was definitely delusional. 

It may have been a cheap trick. Typically the rich social elite — buying their way through life. But damned be all if it wasn’t effective. 

Your employer knew nothing about you, except how to contact you. To give you the time and place for your clandestine meetings. Which means he also didn’t know anything about your personal life and your financial situation. In your line of work, you liked to keep it that way.  

Truth is, you weren’t poor and you weren’t rich. But you needed the money your unorthodox job provided you with. It wasn’t about becoming rich yourself. It wasn’t about gaining status or anything like that. No, the money went straight to your sisters. 

You had two younger sisters who still lived with your mother, a raging and highly unstable alcoholic. You often debated whether to take full custody of your sisters and have them live with you, but you also knew your job came with certain risks and you didn’t want to jeopardise their safety. 

You tried to take as much care of them as you could from the sidelines. Especially since no one else fought for them. Definitely not your father because he had left years ago, claiming he could no longer cope with your mother’s issues. Hell, like you all could?

Your youngest sister, Sadie, had fallen ill two years ago. Mainstream medicine had failed her, so you were now paying for her exclusive medical trials. The good thing was, they were working. Your sister’s health was improving, but she was still nowhere near healthy and being fully cleared by the doctors. She probably never would be as she suffered a rare chronic disease. 

But she was going to school again now. A private school to be exact, same as your other sister, Zoe, who was currently acing her first year at the prestigious Darcy College. You were so proud of both of them, but with the medical bills and their education, you needed the money. 

Which is why your employer’s offer made both your skin crawl but also your heart clench. You needed it. Maybe just as much as he needed this Montrose guy killed. 

You glanced down at your left hand, your sisters’ initials that you had tattooed on your wrist serving as a powerful reminder of what you inevitably had to agree to. A possible suicide mission. Because how were you going to pull this high-profile kill off without being able to actually device a plan in advance? Without getting caught.

And yet you found yourself accepting his offer. 

“Okay.” 

Your employer didn’t look surprised, seemingly confident that money could indeed buy anything. Or anyone. He had been completely oblivious to your inner turmoil. Probably because of your very well practiced poker face that you never let slip. 

“I will do it,” you said. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“Like I said earlier, this is gonna cost you. Not just three, I want five times my regular fee. Take it or leave it.”

He seemed exceptionally pleased with himself as an unsettling smile creeped onto his face. 

“You have a deal.”

Fuck the rich, you thought as you bitterly shook his hand.

–––– 

A/N: sooo this is the first (kinda short, introductory) part of this Rhys x reader fic. The next parts will be longer, don’t worry! Although I’m very busy with work, I will try to stick to my regular posting schedule (Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays) as much as I can. Know that the next few parts have already been drafted and are almost ready to be published :) And boy, it’s going to be a ride. Thank you for reading!!!!