#the amount of people that hate him with a passion Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[kyaruun]

if i don't talk about izumi sena at least once every 24 hours, consider something awful happened to me and you should get worried

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face. 

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door. 

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here. 

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit. 

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat. 

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again. 

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like. 

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression. 

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug. 

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you. 

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full. 

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.” 

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial. 

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing. 

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today. 

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits. 

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother. 

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down. 

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why. 

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night. 

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened. 

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples. 

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items. 

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?” 

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of. 

“Okay,” you agree excitedly. 

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay. 

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you. 

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[yourgothiccqueen]

LN4 - “Formula One Sucks”

Summary: A grumpy reader meets her match.

Parings : Lando Norris x Female Reader

Warnings: none except swearing - fluff and silliness!

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

Masterlist

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I think just don’t give a shit about it!”

“That’s because you’re a boring cow!”

Y/N sat crossed legged on the grass outside her tent, sun beating down on her face as she half heartedly sipped on a capri sun. Spending the night lying on the floor had left her aching and exhausted, and she feared spending the day watching ‘cars go round in circles’ would truly tip her over the edge.

“I just don’t get why I had to come.” Y/N groaned. “You know loads of other people.”

“None of whom were free at short notice on a Sunday!” Y/N’s friend Annie exclaimed.

Y/N groaned dramatically. She was already hating the fact that she was going to be spending the day trying to shelter from the heat whilst pushing her way through crowds of obsessive fans.

“It’s the three things I hate the most - cars, people and outside.”

“Oh shush, you had to come because you’re such a joyous, positive influence in my life who I knew would jump at the opportunity!” Annie said, sarcastically. “Now stop being so bloody miserable.”

Y/N scowled and playfully swatted Annie on the leg.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“I know. Now drink your capri sun and cheer the fuck up.”

—————————————————————-

By 12pm Y/N had not, in fact, cheered the fuck up. She was truly finished with the world of formula one. So far she had queued for the loo, listened to some very loud music and spent an extortionate amount of money on a relatively small (and cold) hot dog.

Annie had long disappeared, claiming to have spotted some guy called ‘Fernando’ before rushing off into the crowd with a squeal, promising to meet Y/N at their seats later on.

It was beginning to get all too much for little Y/N L/N (😉) as she made her way throughout the bustle of people, eager to finally find someplace quiet to eat.

Eventually she found herself going through a set of doors (which definitely did not say staff only) as she found herself a quiet corner.

“Perfect.”

Before she could even take a bite, she heard a cough from behind her.

“Ermmm, what are you doing?”

Turning around, Y/N found herself faced with a relatively young man, wearing an orange cap with curls of brown peeking out the bottom. He looked strangely familiar, but Y/N couldn’t put her finger on it, and quite frankly she was too hangry to care.

“I’m eating my hot dog.”

The man smirked and let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Y/N shrugged and said “ask stupid questions, get stupid answers” before taking a bite.

The man raised an eyebrow slightly, intrigued by the passive aggressive woman in front of him, who seemingly didn’t know who he was.

“Are you here for the race? Or do you work here?” He questioned.

“I’m here for the race. Are you?”

The curly haired man smirked slightly, letting out a little laugh.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

Y/N crammed another bite of hot dog into her mouth “Well, enjoy. It’s all a load of crap if you ask me though.”

A look of intrigue on his face, he asked “what makes you say that?”

“It’s just boring!” Y/N exclaimed. “Car goes zoom, someone wins, hurrah - so bloody what?! What’s the point?”

The man looked back at her, a look of mild bewilderment and irration written across his face.

“Well yeah, the car is one aspect of it, sure. But it’s the drivers that bring that passion, that excitement every week. They’re the ones who shake things up and keep things fresh. They’re the ones who make it worth watching.” The man let out a small cough. “I mean, that’s my opinion anyway.”

“Hmm. So which driver should I look out for today then?” Y/N queried.

The curly haired man shot her a questionable look.

“Don’t you know the names of any of the drivers?”

Y/N shrugged “I know Lewis Hamilton.”

He let out a laugh and another smirk again “well, that’s a start I suppose.”

Y/N was getting sick of this man smirking at her. But then again, it was a very nice smirk. And he did seem like a very nice man.

“So, what are you doing here if you hate formula one?” The man queried, arms folded against his chest.

“My friend’s a big fan, and her boyfriend who was was meant to be coming has got the flu.” Y/N sighed. “As much as I hate being here, I’d feel even shitter if she came on her own.”

The man let out a small smile “Well, that’s nice of you to do that for your friend.”

He suddenly glanced down at Y/N’s lips, and appeared to take a step closer.

Was this mysterious, attractive stranger about to kiss her?

His thumb reached up to her chin and she couldn’t help but look up into his eyes.

God he had beautiful eyes.

She felt his thumb touch her skin with the gentlest of touches, and her eyes fluttered shut.

He smelt *heavenly*. What aftershave was he wearing?

“Sorry, you had some ketchup on your chin.” He let out a soft giggle.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, and she felt herself return to reality.

“Oh!”

The mystery man let out a giggle as his thumb brushed against her chin - “all gone.”

She laughed. “Thank you. It’s not everyday a stranger wipes ketchup off your face. Did we just get to second base?”

The man let out a laugh (it’s a very nice laugh).

“Sure. I’ll count it if you do.”

An urgent shout sounded from a door behind them.

“I’ve got to go. It was nice chatting to you though.” The man stated. “And to answer your question, look out for Lando Norris today. I’ve heard he’s one to watch!”

“Will do.” Y/N called, still slightly stunned from the interaction.

A few moments passed before a security clad gentlemen rounded the corner.

“Oi, you shouldn’t be back here! Get back out the front!”

“Relax - I’ve finished my hot dog, I’m going!”

———————————————————

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, as Y/N sat close to Annie, eyes fixated on a certain McLaren as he reached his final lap of the race.

“And Lando Norris has finished in P2!”

Cheers erupted from around Y/N and she found herself joining it. Turned out that ‘cars, and people and outside’ could be pretty exciting - who knew?!

“Fuck yeah!” Annie shouted, jumping up and down.

The McLaren driver removed his helmet before waving up to the crowds, a grin plastered on his face.

Y/N’s own grin left her face.

“Oh shit. That’s the guy I met earlier!”

“What?” Annie exclaimed. “You met Lando Norris?”

“Yes! Is he a big deal?” Y/N stated, panic rising.

Annie glanced around them, signalling to the cheering crowds - “Duh! What did you say to him?”

Y/N gulped - “I shoved a hot dog in my mouth and told him formula one is crap.”

Annie stared. No words left her mouth.

Y/N could feel her face turning red. “I then proceeded to ask him if he was going to the race.”

A quick, sharp laugh left Annie’s mouth, before she fell into floods of hysterics.

“Holy shit! What is wrong with you?!”

Y/N could feel herself cringing.

“Oh god, I don’t know! Lots apparently!”

She glanced down to Lando again, to find him smirking up at her. He winked, before turning back towards his team.

“Oh my god, I’m never going outside again.” Y/N cringed. “This is all your fault!”

“My fault?” Annie laughed. “I didn’t tell an F1 driver that his sport is crap!”

Before Y/N could respond, she felt a tap on her shoulder. A uniformed worker pressed a piece of paper into her hand.

“I’ve been asked to give this to you.” The woman smiled, before walking away.

“What is it?” Annie questioned, eyeing the paper.

Y/N unwrapped it, finding quickly scrawled words,

Hello Grumpy,

I hope the race was enough to change your mind about formula one. Here’s my number if you ever fancy a hot dog or a debate over ‘cars going zoom’.

LN xx

“What. The. Fuck.” Annie’s eyes widened.

Y/N grinned.

“Maybe I do like F1 after all!”

[slut-and-falcon]

Wicked Fiyeraba Headcannons:

-Fiyero def sits on Elphaba’s lap

- they call each other Yero and Fae; after the Wicked Witch persona dies, they only go by Yero and Fae so less people will be able to tie them to the dead witch and the missing prince.

- one of Fiyero’s favorite activities is to have Elphaba read to him. He finds it very relaxing, and informative. (Fiyero has dyslexia and that why he doesn’t like reading himself- but dyslexia isn’t a diagnosis in Oz, it hasn’t been recogized)

- they take care of young orphaned Animals, and Fiyero got Elphaba an egg apron so she could put all the kittens/small Animals in the pockets while she was caretaking

- Fiyero likes to draw…he draws a lot of Elphaba (and the Animals, but mostly Elphaba)

- Fiyero likes to purchase Vinkun silk scarves for Elphaba. She uses some for practical embellments in her clothing- like as a belt, shawl or hair covering. Others she keeps as house clothes- like as a night shawl. There’s one though- black with red roses- that is only used during intimacy with Fiyero.

- Elphaba and Fiyero have really complex feelings about Glinda…she was Elphaba’s close and only friend for a while, but Fiyero helped Elphaba realize that Glinda treated her like crap (this is apart from not making the sacrifices to leave with Elphaba). Elphaba also had some romantic feelings towards Glinda, and does not know what to do with those feelings. Fiyero loved Glinda, but wasn’t in love with her. He is highly aware of her faults, but still misses her and feels bad for what happened. Both realize that Glinda was manipulated by the Wizard and Madam Morrible, but both also realize that only Glinda is responsible for Glinda’s actions. And can they forgive her for being an anti-Animal/Anti-Witch propaganda machine? For helping in orchestrating Nessa’s death, and creating a trap for Elphaba? They don’t know. Together, Elphaba and Fiyero write letters to Glinda that are then burned before being sent, allowing them to work through all of these feelings and trauma they have in relation to Glinda.

- Fiyero’s favorite thing todo to annoy Elphaba is to use her butt as a pillow. Elphaba hates it (but will tolerate it) and Fiyero loves it.

-Elphaba is very passionate about a lot of stuff, and has a habit of information dumping, even when it’s considered rude. Fiyero likes it, but has felt the need to coach Elphaba for when the time is appropriate to do so, after she accidentally offended Fiyero’s mother.

- Fiyero and Elphaba do the whole “3 taps means I Love You” thing

-Fiyero likes to comb/take care of Elphaba’s hair

- Fiyero is an addict, he got addicted to a ❄️-like ozian drug while in his rebellion/coping-with-being-royalty phase. He hasn’t always been completely honest with Elphaba about it, but he got clean when he joined the Gale Force. He still had carvings, especially with his chronic pain and stress, and he tries to be as honest as possible with Elphaba about his cravings. They both use 🍃 to deal with chronic pain and stress though, but in moderate amounts.

- After being tortured by the Gale Force- Fiyero develops Narceolpsey. It’s a learning curve for both him and Elphaba.

-Elphaba offered Fiyero an open relationship (not because she wanted one but because she thought he would be unhappy with just her, and the novelty would wear off). Fiyero refused (while he had been poly in the past, he refused because he knew Elphaba’s reasonings were based in her feeling inadequate and self conscious).

Hmm I’ll think of more

[beneathashadytree]

HEY GUYS! LONG POST HERE, BUT PLEASE READ🙏🏽

I am genuinely appalled by the discourse ongoing in the LNDS fandom these past few days—but above all, I am severely disappointed in what had started out as one of the most inclusive and sweet fandoms I’ve ever been in. I have a few things to say, so in this post I’m trying to put all my thoughts to words. Apologies if I sound harsh, but I’m genuinely livid. Also, please ignore any typos. I’m not wearing my glasses while word-vomiting.

First off, for a fandom that is composed of mostly adults, you guys have been acting terribly childishly. It’s 2024, and yet people are still unironically shaming others for “switching up on their favs” as if a person owes 2D characters any loyalty. Let people enjoy things. The novelty of Sylus and how he’s quite literally 6 months behind the other 3 love interests makes people want to catch up on the enjoyment of him all at once. He’s still such a brand new character and concept, so there’s no wonder everyone’s hyped up over him.

I’ve seen people get genuinely mad at other players and writing whole think-pieces about this. I promise you guys, the company making this game is still benefiting whether you’re pouring your money into Sylus or any one of the previous 3. We’re all happy to have an interesting character pop up among the roster now, and we’re taking our time getting to know him. Doesn’t make any of the first 3 any less loved. I genuinely don’t remember this amount of nastiness when solo events for each of the guys used to drop.

In fact, if the popularity thing is worrying you, going off MLQC (the company’s past game) the character who was last added was—eventually, after the initial hype died down—kicked off to the sidelines in most major events and was given the least content, and was the least favorite of fans.

Secondly, and this has my blood boiling, there is an insane amount of entitlement and rudeness I’ve seen on my timeline concerning how people characterize the men—particularly Rafayel.

Absolutely nothing warrants this shitty attitude towards other creators for how they depict characters in their fics. It seems you guys feel protected behind a screen and think it gives you the right to bully strangers online. Fanfiction is for fantasizing about your favs; for letting your imagination run wild. If this were a character analysis, then yes, maybe I’d agree that inaccuracies are aggravating. However, in fanfiction, there are zero rules, especially when it comes to smut.

Sexual preferences are not equivalent to a person’s whole personality—so whether he’s written as a dom, a sub, a switch, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, this has nothing to do with his kindness, gentlemanliness, passion, power, ruthlessness, snark, or whatever minuscule aspect of his character makes up his lovely whole and matters to you.

I think this circles back to a lack of ability to separate sexual matters and personality, because how else do people interpret fics depicting him in a certain manner as them erasing his character? They might overlap, but they can very well be mutually exclusive. I’ve seen incredibly sweet and gentle men irl who were absolute doms in bed, and I’ve seen powerful and passionate men who were reduced to tears between the sheets. There is barely any correlation whatsoever, and if anything, claiming otherwise is what I consider piss-poor media literacy and reading-comprehension.

My third point is that for some reason, there have been many, many posts and replies on here where I’ve seen people just straight-up spread pure hate for the characters. Maybe this bothered me in particular because I’m an OT3 (OT4 now!) and absolutely adore all of them, but I find no logical reason for “yucking someone’s yum” when we’re talking about liking the characters of an Otome game—a genre of video games which is made to literally cater to the tastes of as many people as possible.

It’s especially disheartening to see when it’s at a time like this, when new content is about to drop, and you find in the replies of every other post/discussion at least a few people spewing hate and disgust at Sylus. Again, so many people are incredibly excited about him. Why is there a need to rain on everyone’s parade, especially in such an unsolicited manner?

This fandom originally started as a safe space for people of all races, backgrounds, genders, sexualities, and personalities to bond over our mutual love for characters. All I’ve seen on my TL lately (in terms of discussion) is negativity, and it’s such a fucking let-down. I hope whatever the fuck has happened to this fandom cools down after a bit. It’s probably exaggerated and very in-your-face rn, cause more and more people are downloading LNDS, so the probabilities of finding people being nasty are increasing. But I seriously don’t want to grow to resent this fandom and find myself distancing myself from it to protect my peace.

Let’s all remember to be kind towards other players, to not act entitled or bratty about the characters, and to try and mind our own business if we see content that doesn’t suit our tastes.

[electricbathsalt]

Things I want to talk about/touch upon/see people mention more but cannot compile individual coherent posts about:

1. The fact Pops’ daughter apparently had a “falling out” with Pops (over her marriage??) that caused her to completely abandon the yakuza and maybe also cut contact with Pops (the dude is suspicious guys)

2. The fact that in the Overhaul-LOV initial meeting, Chisaki had to have intentionally chosen not to kill Mr. Compress.

3. The idea that many of Chisaki’s thought processes at least partially stem from his time in AFO’s facility. And of course, Pops.

4. How much Chisaki seems to lack a proper reaction to any sort of pain (He was beat to a pulp by Mirio & Midoriya, exploded himself, & got his arms cut off and I’ve never heard him so much as yelp) while still complaining about how overhauling himself hurts?? Yet he doesn’t show it.

5. (Highway scene) How Chisaki only screamed once the realization he wouldn’t be able to ever wake up Pops sunk in (isn’t confirmed but. I’m convinced).

6. The fact that there’s absolutely no way Chisaki wasn’t negatively impacted by being raised in the Yakuza. It’s simply inherent.

7. The blatant disregard Pops had to have had for both Chisaki and Eri’s well-beings to have designated Chisaki as her caretaker.

8. The endless amounts of potential for Chisaki & Dabi/Touya dynamics post-war, platonic or otherwise. (Multiple fics with this premise in my WIPs, lol)

9. The fact Chisaki seems practically incapable of holding a grudge. Like, think about it; is there a character you can say Chisaki genuinely, wholeheartedly hates and wishes the worst upon. You know what—what IS his opinion on Shigaraki/the LOV these days??

10. Realizing that in the initial Overhaul-LOV meeting, Chisaki literally just tone-matched them. Look:

Mr Compress says all that, and then Chisaki later explains:

Which, once you break down what Mr Compress said/how he said it, and what Chisaki said/how he said it… blunt statement of facts. Mr Compress told Toga how faded out the Yakuza have become with no sugarcoating, and Chisaki took that and said. “Well. Yeah.” But then when Chisaki did the same thing (blunt but true & valid criticisms of the LOV/Shigaraki’s leading skills (bc let’s be real, he was an ass leader at the time in terms of actual planning and execution)), the LOV got pissed. He pointed out all the relevant flaws and mistakes in Shigaraki’s leadership and then said it’d be better if he was the leader because he actually has a plan, and they got pissed at the mere prospect of serving under somebody else. Do you realize how much the story would’ve been altered if the LOV didn’t decide to just start attacking Chisaki here?? 💀 Sorry I’m exceptionally passionate about this bc the fandom gaslit me for a while into believing Chisaki was the one starting shit here 😔 but then I read it (a long time after I'd watched it in the anime) and was like. "what. he didn't initiate literally any of this shit. and everything he's saying is true??"

There’s probably more I could add to this but it’s getting long enough lol.

[sunnysidesevenup]

Vignette - Not Here For You Guys (Part 3)

Arlo isn’t used to small town festivals like this.

There’d been a few around NRC, but he hadn’t had much interest in going to them—outside of the few times Vil had asked him to take photos. It was different, capturing the sights and crowds of people on camera, compared to slowly picking your way through booth by booth. Neige got into a conversation with every seller, of course, so they were moving even slower.

Usually, Arlo would hate things like this. Strangers talking to him always made his skin crawl, the nerves of not knowing what to say translating to biting remarks. Insults were always much easier.

This time, however, Neige did all the talking for him. If Arlo picked something up from a booth with a curious look in his eye, the RSA student would strike up a conversation about it with the vendor near immediately. And when Arlo was done, his eyes narrowing and his hands clenching into fists as the speaking voices of strangers turned to nails on a chalkboard, Neige would happily bid the seller goodbye and then gently lead him away.

Arlo definitely didn’t deserve him. Here he was, causing so much trouble, and there Neige was—smiling so gently at him every single time.

They eventually picked their way through the vendors all the way to the bakery Neige had mentioned—a quaint little building with apple shaped lanterns out front and a decorated door. Near immediately, Arlo found himself reaching for his camera, only to remember that he hadn’t packed it.

“Did you want to take some pictures with your phone, instead?”

Arlo turns to his companion, eyes wide. “How’d you know I wanted to take a picture?”

Neige grins, “You always get a certain look on your face when you think something is beautiful.” He says, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “It’s like… hmm, I guess it always looks like you’re in love?”

The mer’s cheeks immediately flush, his lips pursing. “…Do I really?” There’s no way he’d make such an embarrassing expression, is there?

The other boy nods. “It’s why I first wanted to talk to you! It’s like you’re in love with the world—it’s really nice.” He puts a hand over his heart, a sincerity in his gaze that Arlo can’t handle. This amount of admiration shouldn’t be aimed at him.

In love with the world. What a joke. Arlo, who hates people with a burning passion—who finds them all terrifyingly insincere and hurtful—couldn’t ever think about things like that, could he?

But then again, when it came to nature, to architecture, to the way the light could hit the ground in a certain way…. Well, maybe he did find the world a little beautiful in those moments.

He glances back up at Neige through his eyelashes, his eyes having fallen to the snow while he was in thought. The boy is smiling at him again—gentle, understanding, fond—and he thinks maybe there’s some people he finds beautiful, too.

He bites his lip, looking away. “My phone doesn’t take very good photos.” He finally answers.

“Aww, okay.” Neige says, and a glance to him shows a slight pout on his face. “I thought we could take a photo together, too—ah, but you don’t like photos like that, anyways.”

Arlo blinks, tilting his head. Neige wanted a photo with him?

“If it’s with you, I don’t mind.” He says.

Strangely, Neige’s cheeks flush a light shade of red. “Ah—really?” He asks, eyes wide and excited.

The NRC student hesitantly nods. “Uh, it’s not for your Magicam, is it? I don’t think you want to post a photo of me to that.” It would cause a bit too much drama, he thinks, and I’m not too photogenic, anyways.

The other boy frowns, “Oh, it was just for me… but why wouldn’t I post a photo of you? I’m sure my fans would think you’re cute.” He grins at him, rubbing the back of his neck.

Arlo’s brows furrow, frowning. “I don’t want your fans to think I’m cute.” He mutters. “I don’t like any of them.”

Neige giggles, “No, of course not.” He says, smiling back at him. “But maybe they’d want a photo shoot of us together! That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

“If you’d like photos of us, you can always just ask me.” Arlo tilts his head. “Like I said, it’s alright if it’s you.”

The boy’s smile grows wider, and he ducks his head suddenly, a hand covering his face. “You tell me not to say anything, but then you say things like that…”

“Huh? What’d I say?”

Neige springs back up, a determined look in his eyes, and he claps his hands together (the best he can with gloves on, anyway). “Alright, let’s take a picture!”

He pulls out his phone, and then, to Arlo’s surprise, he pulls him close by the waist, wrapping an arm around him. “This okay?” He asks.

Arlo blinks, feeling his mind go blank for a bit. “Umm… can we stand in this spot, instead? The light is better, and the lanterns are pretty, so I’d like to get them in it.” He finally answers. The photo may just be for them, but he’d like it to look good either way.

He pointedly ignores the fact that Neige has basically plastered himself to his side, arms wrapped around him in a half hug. He can’t think about that and still function. He ignores it even as Neige pulls him over to the new spot, a smile remaining ever present on his face, and he ignores it when he remains close even after the picture is taken.

Neige shows him the photo, tilting his screen so Arlo can look at it, and he’s suddenly struck by the fact that he actually seems to be smiling in it. Granted, it’s an embarrassed smile, his cheeks bright red, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

He doesn’t have any photos of himself where he looks so genuinely happy.

“It’s good.” He says, and his companion beams at him.

“Right?! We should take more together! It would be nice to have a whole gallery…”

“Uh, that’s a little much, isn’t it?”

Neige tilts his head, a confused expression on his face. “Of course not.” He responds easily. “I’d love to have a ton of photos of you.”

That’s not fair! Instantly rings out in Arlo’s head. That’s not fair at all.

Almost as if he can sense the alarm bells ringing, Neige grabs his hands and starts pulling him to the bakery door. “C’mon, let’s grab a pastry before the race starts! We should show up early so we can wish everyone luck.”

“So you can wish everyone luck, I’m not doing that.”

“Not even Epel?” Neige laughs.

“Epel is good enough that he doesn’t need luck, so it would be embarrassing for him to lose.” Arlo says simply as they walk through the bakery entrance, a little bell chiming overhead.

Neige glances back to him, a strangely knowing look on his face. “You’re so sweet.” He says again. “You’re right, Epel doesn’t need luck! It’s good to have confidence in him, I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

“That’s not really what I meant, just, uh…” Arlo fumbles for the words, but suddenly realizes that basically is what he intended to say. Just… a much kinder interpretation of it, but it’s not like he can say Neige is wrong.

He frowns, biting his lip again, and then simply moves on to look at the menu. He glances at the other boy, seeing his eyes shine as he stares at some of the options. “What would you like?” He asks.

“Ahhh, it all looks so good! I guess this apple pie? Or this cherry pastry looks good too…”

Arlo glances at the woman behind the counter, “Can I get one slice of this pie and two of these cherry pastries? Neige, is that all you want?”

“Huh?”

“I said I was paying, remember?” Arlo smirks at him, putting his hands on his hips. “So I’m getting you what you want—anything else?”

“No, that’s okay…”

He nods, turning back to the woman. “And two hot chocolates, please. And a water.”

She smiles at the two of them, as if Arlo has been particularly interesting or something, and he scowls. “Of course, dear. There’s some tables if you’d like to sit while you eat.”

“Thank you very much!” Neige says to her once Arlo’s paid, helping to grab their items, and he then whispers to the NRC student. “I really could have paid for some of it, I’ve got the money!”

The mer glances away, not entertaining the thought. “No.” He says, setting the pie and pastries down at a table.

Neige pouts at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’ve got the money too.”

“I know! But I like buying things for you.”

“And I can’t like the same?” Arlo asks him, taking a bite of one of the pastries. His eyes widen, “Hey, this is good too.”

Neige blinks, caught off guard by the topic change. He bites into his pastry as well, “Oh, it is!” He grins at Arlo. “Since you bought it, let’s share the pie, okay?”

“But…”

“Share!” He insists, and Arlo sighs.

“Alright.”

“I’m glad you came with me.” Neige says a few moments later, and Arlo glances up at him. “I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you don’t like crowds, or new people, or going places you don’t know well…” He says, leaning his chin on his hand as he smiles at Arlo hesitantly. “I hope you didn’t feel forced to come just because I asked.”

Arlo pauses, biting his lip and thinking for a moment. He could probably easily dismiss this, but if Neige is actually worried about him not wanting to be here, then…

“I don’t like any of those things, but I like you, so it’s okay.” He assures.

Neige doesn’t look assured, though. In fact, he looks pretty shocked, eyes wide as he stares at him. His lips then tilt upwards, and he’s smiling again, and it’s a very intense expression that Arlo didn’t really expect to see in response to something he thought he’d made pretty clear.

“You’re so cute.” Neige tells him. “I’m so happy you came with me, let’s do a lot more things like this, if you want?”

Arlo nods, although he feels a little like he’s missing something.

The happiness on Neige’s face is definitely worth it, though.

-

Tag list!! @gimmeurmoneyagh @kirexa @lallopsyou

[yourleftpinkytoe-blog]

Pinkytoe’s top ten Aftg hot takes

Read with caution I’m very passionate about my thoughts and did not hold back on my opinions. This is not an attack on people who think differently it is me putting my perspective out there.(with some harsh wording)

1: The rift in Andrew and Aaron’s relationship is just as much Aaron’s fault as it is Andrew’s.

A lot of the time I see people framing Aaron as Andrew’s victim which is a weird interpretation of their relationship to me. It’s not just Andrew controlling Aaron, it is also Aaron fundamentally not understanding that Andrew is a person who has thoughts and feelings. Aaron fundamentally doesn’t understand that Andrew is not doing everything in his power to hurt Aaron he’s just trying not to lose Aaron. So with that understanding Aaron goes out of his way to hurt Andrew like aaron thinks he’s doing to him. The whole dynamic is toxic but neither is exclusively the perpetrator or the victim. The deal is a double edged sword and when people pretend otherwise it feels like it’s doing a disservice to the reality of the situation.

2: Erasing Aaron’s homophobia is not the take that some people think it is.

I see a lot of people making claims that Aaron isn’t homophobic he just doesn’t like hearing about his family’s sex lives. But I feel like people are blinded by their love of his character to see that his homophobia is a character flaw of his. He was raised by Tilda. Tilda was raised with Luther. It would not surprise me if she saw extremely homophobic. Also it takes place in 2006/7 casual homophobia was so fucking rampant… obviously he’s gonna have some uncomfortable opinions on gay people. But being homophobic is not a permanent state of being he can and probably will grow from where he is in canon. Pretending his comments in canon arn’t what they are is taking a layer from his characterization.(plus a layer from the rift in Andrew and Aaron’s relationship is Aaron’s homophobia soooo)

3: Thea was not nearly as bad as some people make her out to be and the whole situation reeks of racism

Yall I said it once and I’ll say it again. THEA AND KEVIN DIDNT START DATING TILL KEVIN WAS A COLLAGE FRESHMAN AND SHE WAS A SINIOR. They were both consenting adults who were in the same shitty traumatizing situation. Stop saying she’s a pedo stop acting like her being mad that he practically cut her out of his life for a year is unjustified. there relationship doesn’t seem perfect but it is not how some people portray it. Stop ur being racist to the only canon black woman!

4: all the hate that the fandom has for Thea should be amplified and given to Roland.

Now let’s see… Roland was 23 when he and a 16 year old Andrew started hooking up. Now that’s some pedo shit. Not only that, but Roland was if fucking boss at the time. Andrew had to tie Roland down in order to make Roland not touch him. You know the teenager he’s hooking up with. I said it once and I’ll say it again, fuck that bitch he’s a shitty shitty person who deserves all the hate the fandom could give him.

5: Hating Riko and thinking he got what was coming for him in the end and understanding that he’s a victim in his own way are not mutually exclusive. I can hate that fucker and still feel bad for him.

I think I explained this in the description well enough

6: Neil’s demisexuality/demiromatisism is non-negotiable. That shit is an important part of his character and erasing it for the sake of shipping is weird as hell.

I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve seen people just take away Neil’s demi identity’s because they want to read about him fucking everyone except the one character he’s been show to have romantic/sexual feelings for. Like I’ve seen people so upset he didn’t end up with Kevin and I’m just like yeah… cause he’s not into Kevin. Makes sense to me. I see so much…

*insert quote about how Neil have and idol like admiration for Kevin and his exy skills*

“Omg Neil wants to fuck Kevin sooooo bad it’s canon*

Like honestly ship whatever but don’t try to change the canon to justify it. Have your fun stop being stupid.

7: While Nicky’s actions in the first book inexcusable, the rampant mischaracterization of him to make him worse than canon is not cool.

This isn’t as big of an issue to me but I see people portraying Nicky as like an actual sexual predator and not just a person who lacks understanding of personal boundaries. What he did to Neil is super fucked up and I’m not excusing him (or anything he did in the first book tbh) but changing him to make the situation more back and white than it is is odd to me.

8: on a similar topic you can not compare what Nicky did in Columbia to what Andrew did.

Andrew had a justified reason for what he did. He is protecting Kevin from the fucking mafia and this shady Kid shows up with a stalker binder and a shit ton of money all while looking like he came off the street. It’s suspicious as hell. Also I want to add that he is on mind and mood altering drugs. The situation is fucked and looking at it from Neil’s perspective it’s even more so cause we know he is not involved in a malicious way, but Andrew didn’t. He acted with every justification while Nicky did not, the only reason Nicky did what he did is cause he wanted to. Both are not good but you can’t compare the two.

9: While kevins alcoholism is not good, the way his fans frame it is grossly misrepresenting the situation.

In the books Kevin is not in a mental state to handle getting sober on top of everything else. His alcoholism is bad and everyone knows it but it is the only thing getting him through things without causing him to shut down. It’s not good but if it’s what he needs to get through this then that’s what he needs. When he’s not in the middle of a mob war he’ll be in a better position to handle himself without alcohol. He’s not a helpless bbg he’s a grown man just trying to get by and if it helps it helps.

10: I do not get the hype around Kevin.

This might be my most controversial take tbh…Like he’s a cool character. And I love him as much as the other foxes but I don’t understand the recent wave of him getting babygirlified. Is it the queen symbolism? Is it just cause he’s conventionally attractive? Is it cause that one scene in the kings men where he was cunty as fuck? No clue.

but yall have fun I may not get it but it is entertaining as shit

[cinnbar-bun]

The Heartless Giant Pt. 5

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW

Crocodile tries to discuss his dreams after getting a bit tipsy, revealing more of himself than you imagined.

WC: ~2.3k

Notes: Some mentions of abusive families (on Crocodile's end).

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 AO3

Taglist: @gingernut1314 @fanaticsnail @leafyturtle @pookiesnatcher @lolom @chaoticqueen33

You can say that since that meeting with Crocodile, he has almost infected every part of your mind. You sneak down whenever you can, you daydream of him, and, like he wanted, you begin to even dream of him. He is fascinating, so alluring, so dangerous in a way that entices you like an oasis in the desert. 

You can’t deny that part of you anymore, the desire to see every part of him, to know every bit about him- it gnaws at you. Inside and out, you feel yourself wanting to be the one who gets to be his closest confidant, the one who gets to see ‘him’. The way he dangles pieces of his life to you like a carrot on a stick makes you angered, but so, so enthralled. 

Only he can mess with you in such a frustrating yet thrilling way. 

Tonight, though, he is more sentimental after you brought him a bottle of wine, something he mentioned wanting offhandedly. He doesn’t complain about your generosity either, instead, popping the cork of the bottle with his golden hook. His dark eyes never leave yours as he begins to drink from the bottle directly. 

“Tell me, your highness, what dreams do you have?” Crocodile asks with an amused look on his face. 

“Dreams?” 

“Yes, dreams. What have you wanted for so long?” He elaborates. 

“Well, I always dream of learning more. I don’t have an easy claim to the throne, nor do I have the freedom like most people below my rank would have,” you begin. “But I’m lucky to be able to have access to things many will never have. I get to take trips and have tutors from anywhere come here to teach me.” 

Crocodile chuckles in a condescending manner and takes another sip. “That isn’t really ambitious. Not for someone of your skill. Isn’t that a pity?” 

“Well what dreams do you have, since they obviously must be so much better,” you retort. 

“Me? I haven’t had a dream in years. Not since I’ve been locked in here,” he chuckles bitterly. You glance down at your lap and recognize again that you have this luxury- the luxury to dream and walk around whenever you choose. Crocodile does not. It’s deserved, especially with his admittance to his cruelty, but it is one thing that you are afforded. 

“What did you dream about before being here?” 

“Hm, well now, let’s see if I can remember them,” he hums while another swig of wine is swallowed by him. “Now, when I was a young boy, I had dreamed of escaping.” 

“Escaping what?” You raise a brow. He gestures wildly with his index finger. 

“Everything. My family was not a good one. I was raised in poverty,” he closes his eyes. “My father would be abused by his boss and worked to the bone, and when he came home, he took his helplessness out on my mother and I. He had no filter, no joy, no love- only hatred. Besides working, all he was good for was being a drunkard.” 

Your jaw drops at this confession from Crocodile, never expecting him to have gone through such a thing. You stay quiet and listen as Crocodile continues. 

“I don’t hate my father for what he did. I simply saw the truth in why he was angry and violent. He taught me something valuable about life. Without money and wealth, you are powerless. No amount of strength, knowledge, or passion can replace what money gives you. Even the biggest fool can be on the top with just the right amount of wealth.” 

“That’s simply not true,” you attempt to argue, but Crocodile glowers at you. The look makes you freeze as he narrows his eyes. 

“You can say that quite easily, can’t you? Do you even recognize the cost of this wine?” He dangles the bottle in front of you. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“Exactly. This is vintage wine from a company that no longer exists. Do you understand that? This specific vineyard was blown to bits decades ago,” he explains, drinking more. “You have never had to worry a day about money, about suffering, about wondering if you have enough to eat for tomorrow. That is something you will never have to worry about.” 

You nervously look at your hands, away from Crocodile. 

“I don’t hate my father much anymore. He was a bastard, but I mostly just pity him.” 

“Why pity?” “Because, he may be a bastard, but he was an unlucky bastard. He probably died never knowing glory or excess. He never would have gotten to experience the taste of a fine cigar, or drink expensive wines, or even know what it was like to look at beautiful things. I am different from him. Not because I am not a bastard, but because, even for a brief moment, I got to experience the lap of luxury that few will ever comprehend.” 

He chuckles darkly, an unsettling laugh that makes shivers creep down your back. 

“And you think that was enough to ignore the pain he caused?” 

“It’s messed up, isn’t it? But it wasn’t my fault he wasn’t as lucky as me. Every limb I’ve lost, every scar on my body, every drop of blood I’ve bled-” he waves his hook around and traces a finger over the scar across his face. “That was luck. I should have been killed a million times over, but none have been able to slay me. He never would have been able to. He was beaten down and let himself stay a beaten dog to be used over and over.” 

You can’t find the words to say as Crocodile runs a hand through his hair, making his more ruffled and unsightly. It was clear through the slight trembling in his fingers and body he was becoming more inebriated. 

“But still, how could you say such a-” 

“Pity the fools below, your highness,” he spits. “They’re not worthy of your sympathy. People will take you down and eat you alive if you show a hint of weakness. You can hide in here, but out there? You are not safe. You never will be. You will never know peace. That’s how that world out there works, especially for us pirates.” 

You frown, letting his words sink in. “It’s despicable.” 

“What? What is despicable? Expecting the worst of others, or allowing them the chance to lead you like a lamb to the slaughter?” Crocodile smirks at your uneasy expression. He holds your chin and makes you face him. “You will not survive out there, (Y/n).” 

The way he says your name makes you freeze and lost in his empty eyes. He rarely ever uses your name, instead opting to call you ‘your highness’. But now he’s addressing you like an equal, like a normal person. 

You have no power here. 

You swallow. 

“The dreams the people outside have would make you hide away forever. They are like animals, starved for food and hungering, yearning for more. You are the bait. You have all this power and wealth, all the resources you can muster- yet you have the simplistic dream of ‘learning’? Let me teach you something important then.” 

He leans down to your level and snarls like a beast. “There a dime a dozen of those fools you call ‘heroes’. Those who believe they are strong, worthy, or even able to handle the weight of glory. They can’t. Your brothers, for example. All three get that chance to possibly rule before you? Hell, you may never see the throne either, since their children may inherit it before you. Are you really okay with those fools running your kingdom?” 

You clench your fists and look away, a feeling of guilt and disgust boiling within you. “No. I don’t like that. I never liked that.” 

“And why don’t you like that?” He smiles, knowing the reason. 

“Because it’s not fair- they don’t deserve it,” you admit quickly. All the years of jealousy, envy, and anger at the situation bursts from your throat. “They don’t know a damn thing! They don’t! They barely ever studied or listen to tutors and even our father, yet they get it first! I know I can be great! I can do good things for my kingdom- but I can’t!” 

You cover your eyes and try to refrain from tearing up in front of Crocodile. 

“There, there. See? It is unfair, isn’t it? But answer this for me. If they knew you felt like this, that you believed they were unfit to rule and that you wanted it more than them… tell me, how would they react?” Crocodile asks, his voice lowering. 

“They…” you try to think of what they would do. “I don’t know.” “That’s not true. You do know. You know they’d gang up on you. They know you can’t fight back. They’d maybe imprison you, perhaps fake your death, maybe even exile you at first chance. You allow them the benefit of the doubt that they do not deserve. You try to remain civil and fair, but the truth is, life is not fair. People like your brothers, my father, and I- well, we have ambitions. Some of us do not make it. But plenty of us will use any means necessary to get what we want. And when push comes to shove, do you truly think you will be able to fend them off? Or will you just continue to try and stay ‘fair’ towards animals?” 

“I…” you struggle. You were always taught to be fair, to be patient, to think of others so much- his line of thinking is sound but goes against everything you’ve ever know. You don’t know if you could ever face up against your brothers if they did decide to take you out. 

“I only tell you this so you do not end up foolish and weak like those I’ve known. You remain ‘chivalrous’ and you are easily taken down. When it comes to life, there are no rules or fair duels. Anything goes. Cheating, lying, stealing- they’re all part of life. Do not make yourself the one to be stolen from.” 

“And you think that this could stop me from being taken advantage of?” 

“It will. Stop settling and losing your ambition- use your resources to become the best you can be. Why not let yourself dream more? Go on, tell me a new dream, beyond what you said earlier.” 

“I… I would like to better my kingdom.” 

“How?” He demands. “Be more specific.” 

“I would like to be the one to lead my kingdom.” 

“That’s a start. But say more. I know you’re holding back.” 

You nod and steel yourself, clenching your jaw. “I want to be the ruler.” 

“More.” “I don’t want my brothers to rule.” 

“And?” 

“I want to stop being weak! I don’t want to be told I cannot do anything anymore. I’ve proven myself over and over!” 

“And who has taken away these opportunities from you, your highness? Who is the one who continues to praise you yet doesn’t change this unfair rule?” “It’s… it’s…” you tremble. “It’s my father. I have done so much. He knows I’m capable. Yet he continues to let my brothers have the first chance. It’s not right! I can do so much more, if only he would just let me and give me the chance to do so!” 

The excitement on Crocodile’s face is evident as he nods along. “Good. See? It’s good to be honest with yourself. You may love your father, but he has taken so much from you for the sake of tradition. Why don’t you finally do something about it instead of remaining passive?” Crocodile smirks. “So tell me again, what is your dream?” 

“I want to rule. I want my father to stop denying me what I deserve. I want my brothers to know that they had the chance, but they messed it up. I want to be the one who gives the orders, not just takes them!” You shout loudly. 

“And I know you can do just that. You’re too powerful to be made to submit like that. Are you an animal, (Y/n), or are you a true ruler?” 

“I’m not an animal!” You yell in confirmation. 

Crocodile chuckles quietly, gently stroking your cheek. “I know you won’t disappoint me. You will make a wonderful ruler. Just don’t listen to the beasts who try and tell you otherwise.” 

“I won’t. I won’t listen to them anymore. From now on, I’ll be stronger. I won’t let myself be taken advantage of, and I won’t let myself settle.” 

In the heat of the moment, you don’t feel the way his hand reaches for yours. He tugs it to get you to pay attention to him and you jump briefly, making him amused. 

“Heh, you need to work on your awareness. Always keep an eye open around you, your highness,” Crocodile begins, before he places his lips to your knuckles. You gasp at his brazen attitude while he chuckles again. “It’s simply my way of wishing you good luck.” 

“Thank you,” you bashfully reply. He lets go of your hand and shoos you away. 

“You have much to think about now, don’t you? Go. Rest up and tell me later what you have dreamed about. And don’t forget me. Your friendly jailbird, Crocodile, gets a bit lonely sometimes without you, your highness.” 

“I won’t be forgetting you anytime soon.” 

“Naturally. Now go give me something to smile about when you come back.”

[evanorphia]

okay, so if you follow me on tiktok you’re probably already aware of where this rant is going because i’ve spoken a bit about this on there, but i really need people to understand that fandom operates on a ‘don’t like; don’t read’ basis.

you can dislike/hate headcanons/ships/characters/fics/etc in this fandom (i have ships and hcs i dislike, and that’s okay, everyone is allowed to have different opinions and preferences) but the issue comes in when you take that dislike towards something and post about it publicly; when instead of ranting to your close friends, you put it on social media and/or hate on other people for liking/engaging with that thing. by posting about your hatred of something, that could a) be someone’s first impression of the thing and that can lead to them not forming their own opinion on it (i know this happened to me, my first interaction with one of the popular fics was negative and so i automatically disliked it rather than forming my own opinion on it), and/or b) upset them or make them feel bad about liking that very thing. this is detrimental to fandom as fandom spaces are supposed to be about creativity, sharing ideas, and a safe place.

the issue gets worse when, instead of just posting about the hatred on your own page, you go into the comments sections of other people’s posts. whether it be an edit/skit/etc that the person has made, they made it for free and out of passion for whatever the contents is. i’m going to use jegulus for this example because it’s a popular ship but this issue can apply to all ships (and more so applies to rarepairs), by commenting things such as “jegulus is a monstrosity of a ship” or “in canon this would never work” or “jegulus ruined this fandom” (which btw, it didn’t, no ship can “ruin a fandom” whatever that means) you’re actively making people NOT want to create content for this fandom and actively making people feel bad for things that they shouldn’t have to feel bad about.

moreover, this fandom seems to really care about characterisations of characters and i have three things to say on this. 1) we do not know enough about the majority of these characters to be able to mischaracterise them and the characters we do know about, we meet when they’re in their thirties and have been through copious amounts of trauma and a whole war to get to this point, they are bound to be different in their teenage years than they are in thirties. 2) the majority of this fandom is fanon and that’s the joy of it, everyone can have different opinions and headcanons and people can take inspiration from each other. if everyone characterised the characters exactly the same the fandom would be so boring and everything would just be a copy and paste of each other. 3) arguing over headcanons, especially stuff like “fem vs masc sirius” can have real life consequences. by saying that someone making sirius feminine makes him “less of a man” or “straightens wolfstar” you’re actively opening the floor for transphobia and homophobia and, as a transmasc who presents femininely and is in a relationship with a man, are you saying that our relationship is now “straight” or that i’m a woman purely because of how i present? please, let that sit with you before you argue over these headcanons again. if you don’t think the marauders boys would wear skirts, scroll or click off of the fic. (also btw, not everything has to be time accurate, that’s the joy of AUs).

furthermore, fanfiction is created for FREE. you do not get to criticise and hate on a fanfic like you do with published literature. fanfic writers have written fanfics for you out of passion with nothing in return other than kudos or comments, they are not making profit off of fanfiction (which would be illegal if they somehow were) and it is NOT their job like how it is with published authors. by hating on fanfics (no matter how popular or untouchable you believe them to be), you are actively discouraging people from writing their own and who knows — that could’ve been your new favourite fanfic. furthermore, a lot of ships lack fanfics because people are scared to interact with anything other than wolfstar and jegulus because of the hate that rarepairs get. there’s plenty of amazing ships out there that have so much potential but people are too scared to create for because of the hate/backlash they may get for creating for that ship.

all in all, like what you want and don’t like what you want, but don’t make it everyone else’s problem and if you don’t like something, scroll. thank you.

[steviewashere]

Please Don't Go Away (Is This How It's Supposed To Be?)

Rating: General CW: Death of A Pet, Animal Death, Original Animal Character Death, Cancer in a Pet Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Grieving Steve Harrington, Dog Owner Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Senior Dog, Grieving Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, The Lord of The Rings References Title from "Upside Down" by Jack Johnson. Something something, you can't save people, you can only love them. For @steddieangstyaugust Day 3: "The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?"

🦮—————🦮 Steve Harrington has a heart too big for this world. It beats with love and passion. He cares too much about any living thing he comes across. Seen in his friendships with everybody in the party, with his platonic soulmate relationship with Robin, his polite kindness to Nancy, and his deep and all-encompassing infatuating love for Eddie.

Then, a newcomer is added to his roster.

A golden retriever. It’s a senior dog, roughly eight years old. Shaggy yellow fur that’s half-white. Dark brown eyes, almost like Eddie’s. He likes to prance around, play fetch from dawn to dusk, swim in the pool, and get cuddles between Steve and Eddie in bed. He loves sitting outside with them as they smoke cigarettes. Loves being a part of their day to day lives. Sitting on the porch of their two bedroom apartment, gazing at the sky, as the sun dips low and lower. He rests his heavy head on Eddie’s bare foot and huffs in his sleep, drools onto the wood of the porch, and when he wakes up from his little nap—he always gazes at the stars, too.

His name is Sammy—Samwise, otherwise. And he’s Steve’s best pet friend. The first pet Steve has ever had. The one that earns all of his love.

——— “Eds?” Steve calls out, voice soft, near empty.

They’re sitting at their dining table. Eating from the same pot of macaroni and cheese. Both their faces the pure definition of melancholy.

Sammy’s got a tumor, the vet had said just a few hours ago. It’s cancerous. It’s aggressive.

It’s terminal.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Eddie speaks just as quietly. His throat hurts from the cigarettes he just suckled down not too long ago. Pinched inside from the little amount of talking he’s done today. He was driving the car back home, Steve in the passenger seat crying, and himself holding back tears—he had to see the road.

Steve sniffles. His fork is stirring around in the macaroni. He hasn’t had a bite of it yet. “Do you think…” He stops moving his fork. Eyes clouding, glistening as they look down at the dinged up surface of the table. Swallows, the saliva clicking. “Should I just give him one more good day and then…send him home?”

Eddie reaches for him at that. Taking Steve’s right hand in his. The skin he touches is cold, rough, and clammy. His thumb scoots to the pulse point on Steve’s wrist, it beats slow against him. “That’s up to you, baby. He’s more your dog than mine. I can’t make that decision.”

“But I…Eds, I love him so much,” Steve states, warbling, “he’s my baby. I don’t want him to suffer, but I don’t want to let him go.”

He quickly drops his own fork in the pot of food. Slower, though, he rakes his hand over the top of Steve’s head, fingers idly tangling in his hair, scratching at his scalp. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, “look at me.” Steve does, raising his heavy head, eyes miserable and dark and red, shoulders hunched to his ears, and that frown of his low to his chin. Eddie hates this. “I’ve lost plenty of pets before,” he explains, voice low in his chest, “some of them passed with old age. Some of them escaped through the door and I never saw them again. But I’ve had two that died because they were sick; one of them I had put to sleep.

“And let me tell you, honey, in a case like Sammy’s, he’s only going to break your heart everyday. Sometimes you’ll think your Samwise is better and ready to play. Then, the next morning, he’ll be back to laying down all day, barely eating, mostly sleeping.

“I love him, too; to bits and pieces, to crumbs, to atoms. But you love him more, Stevie. You love him so much, I see that. I know you do. Listen to me, though.

“You can only love him, Steve. He’s terminal, sweetheart. You can’t save him from this. I think, in this case, it’s best to love him as hard as you can, give him the paradise of his dreams, and then let him…send him home.”

Steve’s face isn’t dark anymore. Just morose. Eyes heavy and exhausted. Tears glistening down his cheeks. Face splotchy red and warm when Eddie brushes his knuckles over it. His lips and chin are wobbling. Eddie hates this.

He cups the back of Steve’s head and brings it to his shoulder. And feels more than sees the way Steve weeps and sobs and gags into his neck. His back is bouncing up and down, choppy with each of his shaking breaths. And on the bare skin of his shin, Eddie feels Sammy brush against him. He blearily reaches down and pets the dog’s back, grounding himself for the last few days to come.

——— They’ve got the van set up for the day. Sammy’s dog bed set up in the back, where the seats usually would be. Pillows upon pillows, the comforter from their bed, and a few of their sweatshirts cushioning Sammy on all sides. There’s a greasy paper bag from the diner in the front seat, a cheeseburger without all the fixings, and a small French fry waiting for their buddy. Windows rolled down for fresh air to hit Sammy’s fur. His face is of pure contentment, eyes wide and giddy, panting heavily. Eddie wonders if this is what he’d look like as a puppy, without the grey fur.

Steve’s quiet in the passenger seat. Head looking over his left shoulder, between the seats. His hands twisted in his lap. Smile small and wobbling and deeply remorseful. Eddie offered to let him pick music; packed up several of Steve’s cassettes, but he didn’t even look at them, didn’t even care. They’re his favorite albums, too. Which makes it worse.

The silence has been one of the worst parts of all this.

After the other day, Eddie had been the one to schedule the euthanasia appointment. For just after sundown. One more sunset before their boy goes.

He drives through backroads, between long stretches of nothing but field, and after some time, he parks at the base of a steep hill. And when he gets out, Steve is already scooting out of the back of the van, Sammy in his arms, curled up tight in a ball, clearly too heavy to be moved like this—if the awkward ambling in Steve’s legs says anything—but he just carries on. One slow step at a time until their little hike ends at the top.

Eddie brought up the dog bed and their comforter, the bag of diner food, and the sweatshirts. He lays it all out. Lets Sammy curl up in the bed, covers him with the blanket, stuffs the hoodies on either of his sides, and then hands the food over to Steve to unwrap and feed. He does it slowly. Tears little chunks off of the cheeseburger. Holds the fries two at a time between his clenched fingers. And when it’s gone, he settles his upper body on Sammy’s back, lays his arm between the dog’s legs, and rubs his cheek atop Sammy’s head.

Then, they watch.

The sky shifts from baby blue. To yellow, like Sammy’s young fur. A muted pink, the color of Steve’s cheeks when he laughs—when he cries. And then a mirage of all of the colors, blending and mixing into one saturated thing. The sun dipping low, just the upper third of it still visible. Stars already poking from their hiding spots.

It’s the best sunset Eddie thinks he’s ever seen. But he looks over to Steve anyway. Watches him pet fur under his hand, twirl it between his fingers into tight twists. His eyes spilling fast, fat tears. Barely making a sound, just the stuttering of his breath. Nasally and sharp through his nose. Lips pinched tight, rolled into his teeth. Eyelashes clumped together and darker than Eddie’s ever seen them. He lays his right hand on the back of Steve’s head and pets him, too.

Steve clears his throat. Rough and raw and probably painful. “The sunset looks lovely, don’t you think, Sammy?” He asks quietly, burrowing his head further into the fur. The only response he gets is a snuffle, to which he chuckles at. It’s short lived and terribly bittersweet. “What about you, Eds?” Steve whispers.

He digs his fingers deeper into Steve’s hair, running them all the way down to the ends and then back up. It’s all sorts of tangled from not brushing it this morning, all in his haste to make this a good day. Eddie heaves a small sigh through his nose. “I think it’s the best one I’ve seen,” he answers honestly, the words crackling.

A dissonate grunt.

Steve shifts his head again, his fingers making circles over Sammy’s heart. “How much time do we have?”

His watch is three minutes behind, 8pm, it reads.

“Roughly fifty-seven minutes. But they told me as long as it’s before ten, they’ll be able to do it.”

“And we can be there with him?”

“They said we can be there if we want. From the moment they do it to the moment he closes his eyes. Told me we could stay for a little while after, too. For us to really say…y’know.”

His fingers shift as Steve nods. Heart breaking at the sound of Steve’s stifled small cries. In a strained, quiet voice, Steve admits, “I don’t want another one after him, I think.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart.”

Another, though less stifled, sniffle. “You’ll cuddle me tonight, right?”

“Don’t even have to ask,” Eddie breathes.

“I’m gonna miss him.”

“I know,” he whispers, “I will, too.”

Sammy snuffles deeper again. The sky dark and stars endless. It’s quiet, really.

Until, Steve half-sobs, turns his head, and looks up to Eddie. His eyes wide and deep like abysses. Shiny. Blurry with the tears. “Will you read The Fellowship of The Ring tonight?” He asks in this heartbreaking, tiny, wet voice.

“‘Course, sweetheart,” Eddie agrees immediately. Because he can’t take this, but he isn’t running.

“Okay,” Steve murmurs, tears spilling over again, “I wanna know what Samwise does next. Where he goes.”

Eddie gives a soft smile. A small one. “I think you’ll like where he ends up.”

Steve mirrors his expression, however miserable he is. “Good,” he whispers. He closes his eyes, swallows deep. “I think I’m ready to go. Are you okay to leave?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, “and Steve?” He traces his fingers on Steve’s hairline, down the side of his face, mapping carefully over his cheek, brushing under his eye. Taking in this calmer moment before the true storm tonight.

“Hm?”

He clears his throat, it’s tight and aching. Then, quietly, “Sammy understands, okay? He loves you. And I love you. And whatever comes of this tonight, just know that it’s not your fault tomorrow. You loved him, you’ll always love him, and that’s all you can do.”

Steve exhales slow through his nose and swallows hard again. His eyebrows furrow very briefly before he relaxes. “I love you so much,” he breathes, “thank you.”

“None of that. Now…” He stands up from his spot, knees aching and back pinched, he offers a hand down for Steve to take and hefts him up, too when he grabs on. “Let’s go, love. I’ll be right here the entire time.”

And he is. Holds Steve’s hand. Pets Sammy’s head.

And he wraps his arms around Steve when he breaks down in their bed later, holding the tagged collar to his chest, wailing straight into Eddie’s heart. But Eddie’s got him, he loves him. It’s all he can do.

🦮—————🦮

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 4

Hey, guys! This story is coming along at quite the clip. I have part 5 already done. I have the specific plot beats mapped out and you are in for a wild ride.

Enjoy more Lauren being awesome, Steve being a history buff, and liking alt rock. A bit of tw for allusion to cancer. It's where Penny and Wayne talk so if you want to skip it just know that Penny isn't acting herself in this chapter and is handling the grief badly.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

***

Lauren tapped her lip thoughtfully. “I suppose I’ll grant you Robin being better than me on the sheer fact that she’s your soulmate. But it was this close.” She held her finger and thumb so close together they were almost touching.

“Platonic,” Steve assured her. Lauren raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not her type,” he added with a shrug.

“That’s fair,” she said. “I hate it when people assume that just because you’re opposite genders that you have to be romantically linked.”

Steve nodded. “As if other types of love don’t exist.”

Eddie winced. Steve caught his eye and blushed.

“I mean you can love friends and family, that’s not romantic, right?”

When no one answered, he continued. “Like one of the kids I used to babysit, Dustin. The one that built the CV tower. God I love that kid like my little brother. But I’m not attracted to him for fuck’s sake. All I’m saying is love is more then just romantic. Hell, the Greeks had a half of a dozen or so types of love.”

Eddie leaned forward interested. “Yeah, like what?”

“There’s love for the gods, love for your brothers in arms, love for your family, romantic love, and sexual love,” Steve said, naming them and counting his fingers. “I think there are more than that, but I don’t really remember.”

Oliver frowned at Steve. “Aren’t romantic love and sex the same thing?”

Steve shrugged. “You’d have to ask them, I don’t know. But I never thought so. You don’t have to be in love to have sex and you don’t have to sex with a romantic partner.”

Lauren launched into music and her tastes to quickly change the subject as Penny was starting to frown about the sex talk.

Eddie started talking to Gale about how she liked school now that she had finished kindergarten and resurfaced to Lauren and Steve’s conversation a few minutes later.

“You can’t honestly believe that Speak & Spell is the superior album,” Steve groused. “It had one hit on it and I wouldn’t even call it that.”

“I just think the band lost a little something when Vince Clarke left is all,” Lauren murmured.

Oliver sidled up to Eddie and nudged him with his elbow. “Do you know what they are talking about?”

Eddie just shook his head, enthralled. He had seen Steve passionate about sports before but this was new.

“Some Great Reward has some of the best songs on it,” Steve continued, unaware he was being watched. “God, I remember the first I heard ‘Lie to Me’, it was like someone understood me for the first time in my life.”

Lauren snorted. “You just used that one because it was the one that would raise the least amount of eyebrows.”

Steve laughed. “Maybe a little, but I was serious about that song. I must have listened to it a dozens of times my senior year of high school. But yeah, I really connected with that album.”

She hummed. She had a feeling it had to do with that girlfriend he brought up earlier, but she would wait until there weren’t so many prying eyes and listening ears.

“I’ll give you Depeche Mode,” she said. “But please tell you don’t like Tears for Fears, please...”

Eddie barked out a laugh. “Stevie boy here has both of their albums.”

Steve just shrugged. “I’m not about to feel shame for liking a good band.”

Lauren opened her mouth to argue when her mother interrupted.

“Steve, Eddie?” Penny called out. “You will have to be sharing a room.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as if he hadn’t considered that.

“It’s okay, ma’am,” Steve said with his most charming smile. “We’ve shared a room a couple times before, we’ll be fine.”

Eddie nearly choked on his own spit. While that was true, he didn’t think it was a wise thing to say in crowd of strangers.

Penny blinked at him. “Excuse me? You’ve shared a room with Eddie before?”

Steve batted his eyelashes at her innocently. “Sure. Often times when playing their D&D game it’ll go late in the night and they’ll end up sleeping over. My house has a lot of rooms, but not that many. So we’ll often double or triple up in a room.”

Gale looked up from her toys she was playing with on the floor. “Just how many rooms do you have?”

Penny shushed her. “We don’t talk about that sort of thing in mixed company!”

“In addition to my parents room and mine,” Steve said steadfastly ignoring her, “three other bedrooms, plus another room in the basement that could be converted into a guest room in a pinch if I had to.”

Penny turned purple. “That’s enough of that talk.”

Wayne stepped in before his sister threw hands with one of his boys. And yes, Steve was his. He just didn’t know it yet.

“It’s not a sin to talk about money,” he said. “Not talking about money is how those in power stay in power. It’s why I’m in a union at the plant. Steve can’t help where he’s from anymore than you can. The size of his house isn’t going to change just because you don’t want to hear it.”

Penny’s jaw dropped. She looked around at her children and then ducked her head. She got up and headed for the kitchen. Lauren got up to follow, but Wayne held up his hand and shook his head.

“I’ll deal with her.”

Eddie stood there with pursed lips trying not smile. But it was hard. Wayne rarely stood up to Penny because he had known for years that she was Grandma’s favorite and her kids were treated like royalty. Not like him and Wayne and in his early years, Al.

His grandma was a sweet old lady who loved him, but he knew that Penny and her kids got preferential treatment because they lived close. It was hard not to be at least a little bitter about that.

“Go Uncle Wayne,” Lauren said with a low whistle. “Classism goes both ways and Grandma would have had a fit if she had seen how Mom acted today.”

Eddie let his smile break through. “Who’s up for some cribbage?” he asked pulling a deck of cards out of his leather jacket pocket.

All three of the Nelson sibling bounced up and Gale ran to the hallway to grab a cribbage board. She pulled out four pegs and then looked at Steve.

He held up his hands. “I’ve never played before, so I’ll just watch.”

Eddie cocked his head to side. “You haven’t? Huh, I thought everyone knew how to play.”

Steve just shook his head.

“Tell you what,” Eddie said, sitting down around the coffee table. “We’ll play a couple rounds of cribbage and then we’ll play something you know how to play.”

“Do you guys know rummy?” Steve asked wiping his hands on his front of his jeans.

“Yeah,” Lauren said with a grin. “That’s a fun one. We’ll play that one next.”

The other kids nodded and Steve settled into to watch the weirdest card game imaginable played on a wooden board with little plastic pegs like rejects from the Life game.

*

Penny rounded on Wayne but the seeing the look on his face caused whatever argument she had to shrivel up behind her teeth. Her shoulders slumped and she ran her hands over her face.

“Fuck, Wayne,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. I just have all this rage inside. She could have tried to beat it. There were medicines and things she could have taken to give us a little bit more time with her and she just didn’t… take it.”

Wayne wrapped her in his arms and held her.

“And we almost had two funerals this year,” she continued into his shoulder, “and I’m just on my last raw nerve.”

Wayne nodded. It was touch and go for Eddie those first three days in the hospital and every was waiting on baited breath to see if he would come out on the other side.

Hell, his favorite moment that week was Eddie’s surgeon staring Sheriff Powell in the face and telling him under no uncertain terms was he allowed anywhere near her patient until she was sure he was going to live. And then by the time Eddie was out of the woods, the government had pinned the murders on someone else.

Eddie stayed under for another couple of weeks so he never got to see how bad ass his surgeon was. But Wayne did, Steve did and they were both very grateful.

“I know, Penny,” he murmured, holding her close. “It’s been such a rough year for us Munsons. How’s Danny handling it?”

Penny snorted. “You’d think it was his mama that died, not mine with all the wailing and carrying on he’s doing.”

Wayne laughed. “Sounds like our Danny.”

Danny and Penny were Hawkins High sweethearts that moved to Ashland to be closer to Penny’s mom when she slipped and fell.

“He’ll be home from work in an hour or so,” Penny said. “You wanna help me make dinner?”

“Whacha making?”

“Just chicken and rice,” she said, pulling things out of the fridge and cupboards.

“Sure.”

*

Steve tallied up the points from their five games of rummy and then threw the pen down.

“Fucking hell!” he hissed. “You’d think I’d be used to getting skunked by fifteen year olds.”

Eddie laughed. “Nah, I’m pretty sure Oliver just cheated.”

The teenager was on his feet in an instant. “I didn’t!”

Lauren put her hand on his arm. “They’re teasing you. Chill.”

Oliver sat back down.

Then the door opened and a man stepped inside. He had curly red hair, a barreled chest, and an easy smile. This was obviously Danny Nelson.

He spotted Steve right off and made a beeline for him. “You must be Steve, Eddie’s told us all about you.”

Steve stood up and shook his hand. “Thanks for having me so last minute.”

“I’m just glad Eddie’s got someone looking out for him,” Danny said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I can smell my wife’s delicious cooking.”

Steve nodded.

Soon they were all called for dinner and Steve was seated between Eddie and Lauren.

He could tell that whatever Wayne and Penny had talked about had sorted her out and she seemed a lot less hostile. But that could have also been the calming presence of her husband, Danny. He had tucked her into his side as they ate, and she leaned into his touch.

It made him grieve the lost of what his family could have been if his grandmother hadn’t died.

Maybe they still would have fallen apart, but maybe they would have been like this.

But he also knew that he had to be grateful for that money not because of the things he had gotten, but because it gave him the chance to find his own family in the monster-hunting party that were his friends.

***

Pt 5|Pt 6|Pt 7|Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

And that's how my husband's family introduced me to cribbage too. It is sooo hard to follow.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer

[thaltro]

Hey there! I've been following for a while bc I saw your absolutely gorgeous bad sans ref for Nightwatch and upon finding more content and context i am so excited for the comic- I love the characters and worldbuilding- I wanted to ask a few questions bc I've been loving this everytime I see new art I eat up the new meal :D no pressure to answer all of them ofc! Take your time if you need it-

Will you post the comics on tumblr or a different website?

Was there something that inspired you to make this comic/Kickstart the want to make it?

As someone who really struggles with motivation to do stuff does anything motivate you to draw and worldbuild? Or does it just come to you?

Not sure if anyone has asked this yet but do have a favorite character you made or are making for Nightwatch?

Like I said no need to answer all the questions, love your art and content! :)

Ooh a QnA ok

1) I’m definitely posting the comic to tumblr, but also on my toyhouse! I won’t just suddenly post it though, before that I’ll release pmv trailers which should be very soon.

2) for inspiration I’ve always loved horror- what started the idea of nightwatch was reading I have no mouth and I must scream, the idea of perpetual inescapable torture is fascinating, especially personalized hellscapes. I also really liked AM as a character and he heavily inspired Atrophy (I headcannon his voice to be AMs) (wait I guess it’s not a headcannon hm)

3) I love world building, im a history major and also studying sociology and psychology- I’m definitely inspired from human history and global cultures. Nightwatch’ s world building is a conglomerate of different social stratifications, but leaning heavily towards conservative religious cultures. For world building I really recommend learning history- it makes you passionate about the patterns of humanity and more aware of the tropes you can use.

But for characters it just comes to me naturally (literally) most characters are based off of my Alters haha. So a lot of them like dream, psych, atrophy, memory, killer, horror etc are all aspects of myself. As the host I hold our productivity, our ego, and our low empathy- that’s what psych is heavily based off of. Dream is based off two parts who hold a lot of of our childhood trauma and religious trauma, likewise Atrophy also is based off of alters who hold childhood trauma. When your a system you go typically through some crazy stuff, when I’m done nightwatch I plan in the future to write horror stories based off it but yeah. Aside from system experiences a-lot of the characters who will experience ableism like memory does, is based off my experience with how people treat my physical and mental disabilities.

Suffice to say, I’m an angry person and I hate the world around me. Nightwatch let’s me vent that hatred in a coherent artistic way. I have a big ego and like to think I’m an interesting person so I write stories based off that because I think it’s interesting. My hatred for pop psychology, ableism, child abuse, and religious abuse is pretty obvious in it I guess. If your struggling to write the easiest thing for me at least is to write about what you hate or are scared of the most- then develop a world around it.

4) my favourite character is Dream probably- I mean I never stop drawing him, Atrophy comes close too. Though there are alot of characters I enjoyed writing like Fresh, Dr. Fell, Dust, Epic, Error yk- I like writing comedic characters. But what I’m most proud of writing it’s probably just Psych, Dream, and Atrophy as I put an equal amount of effort into writing both.

Thanks for the questions it feeds my ego nom nomnomnom- kidding I just genuinely like not shutting up and it’s weird that people actually care to ask

[lehguru]

RUGBY + GENSHIN IMPACT MEN

how i think genshin men would be like if they were rugby players ft. alhaitham, itto, diluc, wriothesley

info: this is mostly superficial (i won't be talking about positions and things like that), im way too passionate abt this it's basically a non-stop ramble, will do deeper dives into all the regions + more characters later; mentions of physical injuries and things like that – not proofread as always!! (maybe romantic hcs coming later too??)

alhaitham is the brain behind it all. rugby might be a sport that is, for the most part, physical and the biggest men win, but alhaitham makes the impossible, possible. the amount of try's this man have on his career is unmatchable; somehow, he always knows how to bring his team to the try zone and score them those sweet five points. his turquoise eyes are sharp and his quick reactions are even sharper, he can see the best plays in a fraction of a second. even if he isn't one of the biggest in the leg department, he definitely have stronger shoulders and arms than a normal player, giving his tall build a really triangular shape (his shoulders make his tackles a lot more amazing too). not the type to brag or boast about his accomplishments, a low-profile man that usually just appears in the team's official social medias or during matches.

arataki itto is one of the most unique players in the rugby world. he possesses such talent for the sport, he would be quickly recognized as one of the best of his generation – and granted the title of 'oni' ('beefcake' for people closer to him). the only problem was, he often got himself some yellow cards and even red cards; the reasons ranged from foul play to straight up almost starting fights with his opponents or even the referee themselves. whenever he had to wait for the decisions on his yellow cards, he would sit on the side with the biggest and cutest pout on his face. if he is in game, he's a absolute behemoth of a player; his tackles are simply the strongest you could ever get hit by – and there's no 'if' he will tackle you, he will tackle you –, teams often have to make a strategy to hold him down for as long as they can. his muscles are well proportional all over his body, what do i mean by that? as a big man, he have bigger muscles everywhere (every week a new picture of his glutes go viral). not the brightest man on the field, but he is okay with just being the one holding back any attackers or being a battering ram for his team. hates having to kick the ball more than anything, rather have one of his teeth broken (again).

diluc is a exemplary leader. he might not be like alhaitham and have strategies for everything and anything, but diluc brings more physical prowess into the game. he's often seen starting plays by himself, but he doesn't mind to help other people on his team when they have the ball. he might be physically strong, but his forte is his mind; after a lot of work, he managed to be able to stay calm even in the worst situations – one of his craziest games was when he managed to turn a 34-3 difference into a win. in the beginning of his career, his long hair used to get into his way – even in a ponytail –, so he started to braid it and it became part of his image. somehow, he never got a single yellow or red card on his career and the amount of offenses he commited are abnormally low too. he have a strong neck and torso, but he's overall very muscular and he have a healthy layer of fat (yes. im saying he have a little tummy). everyone, from his teammates to opponents, compliment his behavior and actions; even if he needs to tackle and stop people, he is still very polite and he always make sure to help them to get up and make sure they are okay if someone needs to b tended by a medic.

wriothesley is a lot like itto in the physical sense. he's shorter than itto, but he is equally muscular. he have veiny hands and arms; if he didn't play often, his body would be hairy, but he shaves his legs and arms every time he have a match (he trimms his chest hair and his lower abdomen hair too). he have all the characteristics to be the leader of his team, but he settles for being a battering ram so the other less strong players can shine too. he is able to hold two to three men on his own, often being able to run even if they try to bring him down or hold him. wrio is the type of guy whose weaknesses are almost non-existent, but he never brags about being a good player; he said more than once: "'m just doing what I'm supposed to. i don't know how i manage to be good at it too". out of everyone in this list, he's probably the one that got more injuries during his career. his knees are never fully okay, but he somehow still manages to be at his top form all the time. he is often seen with elbow and knee protections even off-games. (don't try to tell him to rest, he won’t listen and just brush it off with a teasing comment and a smirk)

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[sil3ntfr34k]

ReaderxP3 if you write for him? Sfw or nsfw, both rule.

(I’m gonna assume that the last person also wanted me to change this one into p4 too soooo-)

(Also I had this planned eventually so this just reminded me ehehe)

‼️Minors DNI it’s Adult™️ time‼️

Postal 4 Dude NSFW headcanons

He’s old and sloppy you can’t change this. He’s been wearing the same old outfit for months straight, don’t expect TOO much from him

Luckily for his showcase ‘muscles’, he looks pretty good when he’s naked. Toned body with an ever so slight beer belly, but it somehow adds to his whole aesthetic

I imagine his dick is pretty average. About 5 inches when he’s hard, 3 when he’s soft and an average amount of girth. His balls are pretty big tho so at least he’s got that goin for him

Pretty good prep tbh. For fem aligned folk he’s kinda gentle and soft, letting his hands slowly run up and down your body before he keeps one behind your head to make his kiss more passionate

While for more masc aligned folk he’s a bit more rough, probably pulling you in with hard hands on your hips and pulling your hair back to get a better look at your face. Being around more manly people makes him feel manlier too, so he’s thinks he’s gotta act tough and all

Loves passionate sex. The heavy breathing, the grunting, the slaps of skin, the sweet dirty talk, he LIVES for it. If you keep kissing him during sex, he’ll cum gallons

Probably hates to pull out. Dude so desperately wants to feel you around him like this all the time, so much so he throws a little hissy fit when you make him pull out. Dude isn’t very smart when it comes to his own greater good, so for all you womb havers, you better make sure to pull him out yourself before he cums

Dude has an oral fixation as well (most dudes do). All you have to do is take off your panties/boxers and spread your legs for him to instantly dive between them and start licking/sucking. He doesn’t like to swallow tho, can’t stand the taste of cum smh

His favorite position is probably the mating press. There’s nothing Dude loves more than plowing into you as hard as he can so he can hear you moan. Not only does he get to fuck you mercilessly in this position, he also gets to see your face the entire time. (Yes he does try to make you cry sometimes)

Please wake Dude up with a blowjob, he will do anything for you for the rest of the day. Blowjobs in general are easily one of Dudes favorite jobs to have. Definitely jokes about it too. “Dude, I’m hungryyyyy what do we have to eat?” “You can eat my dic-“

Enjoys light BDSM. Spanking, slapping, and light bondage gets him goin good. Also blindfolds, adds to the excitement

Makes a lot of noise, on purpose. Dude knows you like his noises, at least he’s convinced himself you do, so he will not stop the constant groaning and grunting.

The way he lets you know he’s horny is by being extra loving. Hugs you from behind, kisses your neck, has his hands placed firmly on your hips and is slightly grinding into your ass, grunting

(That’s all I can think of rn idk I’m tired and outside pls give me my blanket)

[upinthecloudss]

random hc's - my candy love hsl boys

the brainrot developed further after reading the first 3 mangas these past few days (tysm @draconess-tania for sharing the link for the english translations to me!! my 13 year old self who could never find them online is healed)

kentin has always been very acne-prone, his mother helped him develop a pretty solid skincare routine and he finds it very relaxing to do in the evening - he hasn't admitted it to anyone in fear that he will get laughed at

gave tips to armin once when he had a particularly nasty pimple and became less self conscious when he saw how greatful his friend was

momma's boy through and through - he loves having sessions catching her up with all that is going on in his life with a cup of warm milk and cookies

after military school he became a bit more closed off and these catch up sessions became less common - he eventually opened up after a few months when he saw how sad she got at his new attitude

to his dismay, he is terrible at baking sweets

he's fine at other basic cooking skills but it's not his passion

kentin is a bi man but he didn't come out until his early 20s

[i'd like to write a one shot on him coming out to his family, or just more about him - there is sm potential with his character,,,,]

he comes from a very small family, he only has about 2 cousins since it's only his mother who has a sibling so he's used to being alone - evan was his first ever 'big brother' figure to him

has -6.5 impaired short sight vision (translation: blind asf)

has relatively short fingers, 'baby hands' candy calls them. he hates how cute they look

nathaniel's mother is not a natural blonde, but the twins are. people started believing she is naturally blonde because of nath and amber

nathaniel is tone deaf, he's fine with the drums and rythms but anything solfege is out of reach for him

bless him lys tried giving him voice lessons and he dropped them a few weeks in

if he were to ever get another cat in the future it would be a british shorthair - insited upon by amber

amber lived with nathaniel for the first few years of college

she insisted it was because she wanted to save up on money while she looked for stable modelling gigs but she honestly missed living in the same house as him

armin likes painting his nails in dark tones of purple, blue or black - he did it for the first time to let alexy practice but he liked it so much that he rarely doesn't have nailpolish on nowadays

the polish is super chipped at all times, no matter how recently he applied it

it helped him stop biting his nails

fnaf lore expert - loves markiplier + game theory and watched them growing up an unhealthy amount

he plays the videos as background noise every now and then

it's his comfort frfr

the twins love stealing their mother's makeup - she has gotten so used to it that she gets dupes for most of her products just in case

armin tighlined his eyes during a specially grungy era of his - he's a master of eyeliner

he is also pretty acne prone but only on the forehead area which he covers with bangs

alexy is always insisting on how bad that is for his skin but armin chooses to ignore his brother

bi armin with a slight female preference btw

alexy uses coloured contacts + colour corrector for some redness but isn't all that much into heavy makeup looks

armin owns way too many ripped jeans

alexy DESPISES them - considers them an atrocious fashion crime

the twins go on regular spa trips with their parents - it is the only time where you will see armin willingly leave his console at home

on that topic armin developed scoliosis due to genetic predisposition + constant hunchback while playing AND he usually has neck pain so he never says no to a massage

warning for an unpleasant story involving teeth-related injuries but this is something that happened to a friend of mine and it fits sm - alexy and armin were once playing catch in a playground with stairs and while alexy was trying to run upstairs he tripped and landed on his two front teeth - he had to wear a dental prothesis for years until his adult teeth came in

armin can only sleep if he has those dumb ass whale ambience sounds in the background, alexy can only sleep with silence

armin needs to have the room as cold as possible, alexy cannot stand having the window open at night

surprisingly, they actually manage to sleep well in a shared room because they feel more at ease around each other (and armin doesn't need the sounds to relax)

castiel cannot sleep if there is light in the room - he sleeps with those eye masks that cover your eyes

his mother buys him flower-patterned or cute animal themed masks PFFT she brings them back from trips abroad so they're sometimes themed with cute mascots from the country

he only wears them when his parents arent home - he'd never admit to his mother that he actually uses them

he has a collection of guitar picks related to memories, he has a scrapbook - esque thing where he puts them in pages with dates

one of them is a pick that iris gave to him before their concert together - she knew of his collection to she wanted him to have it as a memory of it

it's purple with golden details on it

his first one was from his first time meeting lysander - he got him a pick to teach him some guitar but lys gave it back to him in case he wanted to play in the future and inevitably lost the pick

he doesn't play with picks tho - the manga kinda confirmed this but he developed the callouses to play

thought it was dumb at first but in his late teenage years he picked up spanish guitar - enjoys compositions by albeniz etcetc (Rumores de la Caleta is a piece that he enjoys playing - not because his mom loves it nooo who said that)

i just had a lightbulb moment

spanish castiel - on his mother's side

his mother dressed him up as a chulapo when he was younger - he HATED it (are we surprised)

nathaniel is terrified of flying - his parents forced him to suck it up growing up but he ever grew out of the anxiety during take off and landing

his favourite animals are meerkats - he loves that they stick and protect each other as a family

this is purely self indulgent but lysander's favourite classical composers are liszt and chopin - any romatic composers tbh

he likes singing ofc but he also wants to learn violin at some point

lysander always wanted to try classical dancing but never got the opportunity to do so

he'd be a natural at ballroom dancing methinks

nath is the token straight

cas is bi, lys is queer - but they never rlly came out

they j date whoever they like, if it turns out to be a man then eh whatever