#warning: stream of consciousness

[pollywiltse]

Actually on second thought the Ralph Earl painting of Mary Floyd Tallmadge also looks like she'd be perfectly willing to knee her husband in the balls if required, so maybe Louisa André/Benjamin Tallmadge would have worked out.

(Mary: "The reason he looks so pleased with himself in his portrait is because he got me pregnant eight times. The reason I have resting bitch face in my portrait is because he got me pregnant eight fucking times."

Ok, to be fair, I think they were at number three when the Ralph Earl portraits were taken and they probably had a very happy marriage, actually.)

Anyway, I remembered I had a digital credit for letting Amazon deliver my tiny chunk of beeswax in three days instead of overnight, so I bought the book.

It is 100% Benjamin Tallmadge/OFC Turn fanfic, and if you want Tallmadge/OFC you can probably get something just as good on AO3 without paying for it, maybe even with André and Simcoe cameos.

I wasn't sure at first, because she's not super great at describing people's looks and for some reason André was blonde, which JJ Feild is not, and she didn't mention Simcoe having a weird high-pitched voice. I briefly thought I was wrong about her ending up with Tallmadge and it was going to be Mary André/Simcoe, but.

And then Mary ended up with the Continental Army for....reasons, and Caleb and his anachronistic beard showed up. Definitely Turn fanfic. Especially when Caleb and Ben start talking about their childhood friend Anna. (I mean, maybe that beard was real, and it was perfect for the character, but the vast majority of 18th century men were clean-shaven so it's anachronistic until proven otherwise. Ok, technically they only shaved every couple days so they were slightly stubbly but the goal was clean-shaven.)

And then they're like, "What's your name?" and Mary's like, "Mary - uh - Floyd. Yeah, that's it, Mary Floyd." And I loled.

And then she comes back to Philadelphia and Simcoe reveals his true socially awkward excessively stabby Turn-self. It was a bit weird having André and/or Mary be upset about Simcoe bayoneting American soldiers in their sleep. Like, Paoli? Baylor?

Ok, to be fair, the level of massacre at Paoli seems to have been significantly exaggerated. Also Charles Grey seems to have gone AWOL. I like to think he eloped with Peggy Chew, since she's not around either. As usual. André's one true love is Peggy Shippen, also as usual.

William is also inexplicably back in England, though I do like the idea that André thought he was shipping his brother out to America and ended up with a sister instead. ("Yes, but I bought him the commission.") Though I think she's supposed to have come out earlier than William did, but I'm not sure if that makes sense logistically. Mary is also way too young. Find-a-grave has her born in 1752, which makes her the oldest of his sisters and also absolutely not "less than twenty" or "almost twenty" or whatever in 1777. She may have ended up the real Mary Floyd's birth year? (Though Ann André's find-a-grave has her born in 1754, which conflicts with Ronald claiming she was baptized in 1753, but I might believe the gravestones more than Ronald. Also how come John seems to be the only kid without a middle name? Mary Hannah, Ann Marguerite, Louisa Catherine, William Lewis, John Two Names? What, Are We Made Of Money?. Actually he might have a middle name but no one talks about it. I though one of the modern biographers actually quoted his baptismal record, and it was just "Jean André", but I checked and they don't.)

Also, weirdly, Peggy Shippen is at the Meschianza and neither she nor André are participating in the tournament. The author might think it was like a Renn Faire, I'm not sure. Actually I'm not sure Mary wouldn't be participating in the Meschianza if she was there. She does steal André's Wharton-house-decorating gig. André gets too much credit for the whole thing as usual. He and Montresor might be the only two managers? So I assume there was this Highlander there-can-only-be-one thing going on in the background and André has already killed the other three/four in single combat. (Actually that might explain why the names of the managers don't quite match up in the two contemporary accounts - three are the same but the fourth is different. Unless I'm misremembering.)

Mary's case of "not like the other girls" is frankly tedious. Please stop whining about how all the other rich girls only talk about frivolous boring things and author please stop making all the other upper class women timid and narrow-minded and being shocked at Mary going out and asking soldiers what's going on. Having Peggy Shippen be the only nice rich girl is a new one. (Ok, actually it's a very old one; it's a (probably unintentional) throwback to 19th century André fanfic, where Peggy is the female mc's sweet and innocent bff, though in those books André and Peggy aren't in love with each other.)

Also writers stop doing the thing where you get like one cool girl other than the mc if that and then every other woman is a bitch and most of her friends are guys. And I say this as someone most of whose friends are guys, but that's because I work in a majority male field, not because women suck. And actually it's become more evenly split since I moved to a less male office. (The camp followers are maybe marginally better portrayed than the upper class women, in that they're not completely useless, but they're still all total bitches who don't help her at all even though she shows up with nothing except a horrible leg wound and then think she's a whore when Tallmadge buys some frying pans for her, except for one woman who's nice. Stop. Doing. This. Having your mc and maybe her one friend be Strong Female Characters isn't feminist if you make the rest of the women suck, especially when you can somehow manage to have multiple sympathetic male characters who all have different personalities.)

Mary's entire personality is "I don't want to be a mere ornament for men", which you'd think would make her sympathetic except it's her entire personality, so it's annoying. Also, while André the anachronistic feminist would make me throw things and I'm sure he actually did going around feeling like men should protect women from the more sordid parts of life, he's a little too one-note protective older brother who doesn't take his sister seriously. Which is bad from a technical standpoint, but I suspect it's not accurate for André specifically either, because the women his name has been linked with were not stupid or submissive women when we know anything about their personalities, and I suspect the women of his family weren't either. (My crackpot theory based entirely on that one line from Edgeworth's memoir is that André's major non-financial dating problem was that he kept being attracted to girls who were too smart for him.)

It's not clear why she goes around randomly spying on the British Army for her own personal amusement, because that's a really weird hobby, but the author completely ignores what that might say about her, and it seems to exist entirely so that it can come in handy when she meets Tallmadge. It's also weird that Tallmadge finds out that she has a ton of papers with very detailed information about the British Army and immediately assumes she must be a British spy come to find out information about the Americans. Why would a British spy be carrying information about the British Army?

Ok, I actually can think of some reasons, but the most obvious conclusion is still that she's not a British spy. This is just Tallmadge holding the Idiot Ball so he and Mary can have extra conflict before they realize they're in love with each other. At least it's not as contrived and stupid as the André/Peggy conflict in Turn?

Though Tallmadge's weird anti-British prejudice is contrived and stupid because it seems like the officer classes of both sides went around being "more in sorrow than in anger" about their opponents (ok, the British also went around being "lol peasants"), and hatred tended to be directed toward specific British officers that had a specific reputation for brutality, not random British girls who showed up with massive leg wounds. Also Tallmadge was a gentleman. He's not going to be jerk to a lady, or even probably a mere woman. Though I realize I'm talking about the real Tallmadge and not Turn!madge.

It's also weird - and someone on Goodreads pointed this out too, but then they also complained that she didn't have PTSD which annoyed me because most people who experience trauma don't develop literal PTSD - how she just randomly decides to spy for the Americans for basically no reason, and she's not supposed to be a bored sociopath who decided to betray her brother for the lulz. This book would be a lot more interesting - and possibly make a lot more sense - if she was. Like I realize she gets almost raped by deserters from the British Army, but they were deserters. That makes it especially easy to be all #notallBritishsoldiers, plus her brother and most of the men she knows are in the British Army, plus all her friends are Loyalists. Plus it's not like deserters from the American side would be nicer. Why's she totally ok with the idea of potentially getting her brother and most of the men in her social circle killed? Why does she seem more worried about the Americans even when she's known them for only a month, the women are jerks, and Tallmadge flips out at her at the least provocation? Because a couple of deserters attack her? Oh yeah, and she walks in on her brother having a drunken hooker party and one of the guys thinks she's a prostitute, and then Simcoe promptly descends on him like the fist of angry God? And then André goes "bUt mEn hAvE nEeDs", which is terminally annoying but it's more likely to drive you to knee the speaker in the balls than to go over to the enemy which also thinks mEn hAvE nEeDs. Like these do not seem adequate reasons to betray your country, especially when it's going to put the lives of people you know at risk. At least Benedict Arnold wanted a shitton of money.

(Also re: André's drunken hooker parties, given that his idea of a fun party IRL seemed to involve him reading satirical essays about reincarnation, I have questions about accurate Turn's portrayal of his extracurricular activities are, exactly. "God I'm so drunk-*vomits in the fireplace* "-wanna hear some poetry?")

TBC unless I get distracted.

Haha what someone wrote a novel where John's sister Mary somehow ends up in America and becomes Agent 355? I might have to take a Benadryl and get over my allergies to Agent 355 and encouraging bad self-published writers and read this. (Somewhere, Andre: "Oh, you have an allergy to encouraging bad self-published writers? Must have developed after you went and bought Colors of the Times and The King's Fuzileers.")

And Tallmadge is a character and I think it's a romance so I hope this is Tallmadge/Andre's sister I will die. I love crack!pairings.

I'm disappointed it's not Louisa, though. She's my favorite of his sisters because in the miniature in the Ronald bio, she has a very elaborate hairstyle and an expression like she has one nerve left and you're getting on it. Her resting bitch face isn't quite Grodnertal doll level, but it's getting up there. (It's not the demon-possessed Victorian little girl dolls you actually have to worry about stabbing you in your sleep. It's the early 19th century Grodnertals who aren't possessed by anything, they're just sick of your bullshit.)

I think Louisa in the miniature might knee Tallmadge in the Ralph Earl painting in the balls though, so I don't think they'd work out.

There's also a miniature of Mary in the Ronald bio, but it's the worst of the family and she just looks like a dark blob on top of a light blob with two little dark blobs in the middle. Ann(e), who is the third sister, also has a resting bitch face that's not quite as epic as Louisa's.

One of the things I hate about the Ronald bio is that he doesn't talk about what happened to any of John's siblings afterwards. Like I know he was in contact with the family because that's how he got pictures of the miniatures. He could have done more with the rest of John's family.

[ethereal-goats]

Realizing a lot of my shit is just desperation and pressure based. Like, adding a dash of struggle to an experience amps it up a lil for me.

(Fair warning, everything from pee to eggs and hemipenes mentioned)

Having a really full bladder and sinking down on a cock and just shaking at how much fuller and tighter everything is? Being able to see the way a swollen bladder bulges when someone is stuffed full? I’m not as into the piss part of piss stuff, but someone being desperate and tight? Yeah, sure.

Desperate and full to lay eggs ovipositor style or being filled up by smth else and dealing with that pressure and arousal. This one is sorta a no brainer but man. The actual egg laying is also my cup of tea because someone all pathetic bearing down on a clutch and increasing the tension in their gut tenfold? Smth with an ovipositor feeling their partner getting tighter around them as an egg squeezes into them? Yeah, sign me up man.

Upset tummies usually come with some bloating and tension, and of COURSE someone would be wanting relief when their guts are tied in knots. Adding to this a little bit of a helpless edge, because with the previously mentioned things, there is an immediate avenue of relief, y’know?

Size difference is obvious on the pressure part, and especially fun when you add more fantastical elements like nonhuman dicks or any sort of magical aspect to the devil’s tango. Going the hemipene route with nonhuman characters and getting a lil double penetration zest to go with it is also quite fun. Adding to that, exploring non-human desires and exploring the flow of intimacy slightly differently with alien/fantasy/etc partners can also spice stuff up.

It’s not like I find concepts like piss or eggs or upset tummies erotic inherently, but the bodily experience is fucking banger. Like, each one has aspects that appeal to me, even if I don’t spring for every flavor of the kink. I think it’s really fun to try and pick out what facets of an experience produce that erotic experience, and looking to see if that might exist in kinks/interests that I didn’t initially align with. Idk, there is something that appeals to me in the vulnerable, pitiful side of all of these- in breaking that usual level of shame or control most people have. There’s a bit of freedom in being forced into a position where you can’t hold onto usual composure. Hm. Maybe the lack of control is bigger than just pressure and need- might Drabble about that later. Anyways, another stream of consciousness ramble.

[fyodior]

mooties if u want my priv like this post :3

[bunnyunderthebed]

Hey pretty how are you doing,in the most respectful way,will you be my sugar baby and how much you need right now?🥰❤️

what foul creatures, vultures. to feast on the rot of this forest is to make yourself one with it, until your intestines twist at the mere mention of sweet berries and salted roots.

you are the scum that flows atop the river melancholy, separated from the churning waters not by effort, but by your own noxious, insoluble form. woe, the day may come where an undiscerning and naive rodent, starving in this place, may drink from an infested creek and lose themselves to you.

there will be no joy in my heart when you are eradicated from the face of this earth, only relief that none more will be grieved for having fallen prey to your wretched hunt.

[123pixieaod]

oh my god your girl daniel was so amazing!!! it was such a treat to read and if you ever have any more thoughts about that universe i would love to hear it!!! <3

Anon, do I ever!!!!

Firstly thank you so much for the kind words 💖 I had never written girl Daniel before so I'm so happy you think she works :)))

Secondly, yes. Yes I do. You have either opened Pandoras Box or a can of worms, depending on which allegory takes your fancy, because I literally cannot stop thinking about insecure Girl Daniel, and what would happen next to her (so I apologise in advance for the upcoming rambles lol).

So, after the time in the gym, Daniel phones Michelle and Michelle has about zero sympathy for her because she is a Working Mother™️ and thinks (possibly correctly) Daniel is a single millionaire professional sportswoman and has no right to be having problems (again going back to this deep rooted misogyny that for a woman having a family is the most important calling for them, and everything else paled in comparison).

And basically Michelle tells Daniel that of course Max would say and think that because Daniel always acts like a 'one of the boys', even as a little child, and dresses as if she doesn't care what people think of her (jealousy now from Michelle that she never felt like she could be that free???)

So Daniel gets off the call and basically decides to change, and the first thing she does is gets fake nails put on. And she goes for these little gell ones with flowers on because Flowers are Feminine.

But at the next race weekend, walking back after the press conference with Max, she realises that the nail onher ring finger has fallen off and just starts to ... cry. Because it feels like the universe's big fat way of telling her she's never going to be desirable and no man will ever want to marry her (and ofc by no man she means Max, but accepting how utterly in love with him she is feels like defeat in a different way). And Max is walking with her to the motorhome of Red Bull/ Alpha Tauri and is slightly freaking out because 😰why is Daniel just staring at her hands😰why is she nearly crying😰 and he asks and that does make her burst into tears because she just feels so pathetic in that moment, and the only thing she can say is one of her new gel nails fell off and she walks away before he can say anything else.

That evening she pretends she's feeling a bit unwell so gets to stay in her driver room and eat dinner alone and feels slightly less miserable because she now has an Even Better Plan ™️ and so she pulls off all the fake nails (flowers? How old is she, six?) and calls her mum asking for advice and is half way through listening to her mums step by step process for straightening her hair when there's a knock on her door and it's Max holding out the lost nail. And as soon as Daniel opens the door he marches in complaining that she should be more careful and that it was under the couch and he got such strange looks from the staff so the next time she should not be so upset over a nail and instead just take another from the box and replace it, and all Daniel is able to say is she didn't buy the gell nails in a box she got them done directly at a nail salon and Max just blinks out at her. And then nods, and mumbles that Kelly orders her online and they come on a box with extra. He looks away as he gentle places the sole gell nail down on her table.

"I suppose it is a good thing then I got it for you, if you had no spares," he mumbles, cheeks suddenly warm, and Daniel just nods and stutters a "thank you" and Max nods again as if they've both been caught doing something embarrassing and leaves quickly. And then Daniel is staring at the nail that Max went back and searched for and found, just for her, and then goes to retrieve all the others she ripped off and begins to carefully glue them back on, refusing to think about what any of it could mean.

ANYWAY then it's time for Daniel's Big Plan™️. This is where she gets her hair professionally straightened and begins to smile with only her lips and tries not to laugh because Girls Don't Have Loud Honking Laughs and wears long sleeves to hide her tattoos and when she's going out she wears dresses and she finally shaves her legs and she learns to wear makeup and trims her eyebrows and waxes the hair on her upper lip and begins to wear jewellery (but only clipon earrings because her race engineer tells her she would be a fucking idiot to try and get her ears pieced and then expect them to not get infected while wearing a racing helmet).

And for a while, she feels good. She feels really good. She likes the way her mother keeps texting her photos that the f1 photographers take of her and telling her how beautiful she looks now. She likes her sister texting her advice on which shoes go with which dresses and saying she's glad Daniel's finally grown up ("usually the tomboy phase only lasts a few years, not two and a bit decades, but at least you're out the other side of it"). She gets attention too, papers writing of "Ricciardo's New Look!" and articles on her "killer figure previously hidden under oversized clothing".

She likes it and she lives for the moment at at a party when they're both drunk and Max brushes his fingers over her long, silver, dangley earrings, saying "pretty," and Daniel feels her chest contracting and Max suddenly drops his hand as if the silver burns, and he looks at her and she looks back and he blinks, Maldives-blue eyes meeting her dark ones lined with eyeliner. "Thanks," she whispers, and he just jerks a nod and then takes a step back, as if there wasn't enough oxygen for the two of them that close together.

But then it slowly turns sour. She gets tired of constantly trying, constantly waking up early to do her makeup and constantly ignoring her favourite, baggy clothes in favour of new, tight shirts and dresses her sister recommends. Her mother sends her another photo, but this time it's just accompanied with "That's a bit revealing don't you think Dani?" When she facetimes her dad with her new smooth, straight hair and makeup and a smile that's always closelipped, he looks sad as he smiles back at her.

She comes P3 at the race before the summer break, and goes out wearing a sequined purple dress her sister encouraged her to buy, which once she wouldn't even consider wearing (she knows her mother would call it borderline obscene with its plunging neck line and high hem). At the last moment, she puts on the earrings Max complimented, refusing to think about the warmth in her chest as she clips them on.

At the party, she gets drunk and finds Max, and he's drinking and Kelly is there too, and she just looks so perfect, and suddenly Daniel feels like a little girl playing dress up. It all comes so natural to Kelly. She doesn't have to try to be feminine and beautiful. She just is. And Max isn't. No matter how many dresses she buys or makeup, she wears or hair heels she nearly twists her ankles on, she won't be Kelly. That's the sort of beauty you're born with, the sort Daniel is so clearly deficient in.

She wants to leave, but Max sees her before she can and weaves his way to her. His cheeks are flushed from drink, and he's wearing a white shirt with the top buttons undone, and he looks so good that she wants to die. "Your earrings," he says, blinking at them before meeting her gaze. "I talked to Victoria. About you."

"Cheers for letting me know," Daniel tries to make a joke but it sounds too bitter to land. Max frowns, no doubt picking up on her tone.

"No, I mean... what I said about you earrings. Last time. About them being pretty."

Daniel suddenly can't breathe. The club is too busy, too dark, too noisy, too much. She wants to leave, wants to suspend this moment in Amber and let his sentence stay unfinished.

"I did not mean it."

And Daniel barks a laugh, her chest aching like it's being crushed. She's so fucking stupid.

"No wait," Max says quickly, cheeks growing hotter. "I did not - I mean, of course I meant it. But they are just earrings. They are pretty because you are wearing them, and you are pretty. I do not -"

"Hi," Kelly materialises beside them, wrapping a perfect, unblemished arm around Max's waist. "Congratulations on the podium Daniel," she says in her sensual accent, the cadence smooth and so unlike the musical, messy lilt of Daniel's Australian one.

She forces a smile. Close lip. She refuses to look at Max. She makes up some excuse about not having a drink. She leaves them.

And then the night gets even more messy and Daniel gets even more drunk and ends up on the dance floor with some creep who keeps putting his hands on her ass no matter how many times she grabs them and raises them to her waist and then a tiny voice is asking her what the fuck are you doing and she leaves and the air is cold on her cheeks and her bare arms and shaven legs and her smooth hair keeps flying into her eyes and she's hugging herself as she's walking aimlessly, and then someone calls her name and it's Max, looking exhausted but significantly more sober then before.

"I did not mean what I said," he continues stubbornly, an echo of previous words, the moment that triggered her desperate attempt to change, sparking this whole fuck up.

"I looked for you," he says with a frown as if Daniel was a misbehaving child.

She snaps, "Maybe I didn't want to see you," and he blinks as if she's slapped him, as if the thought never even occurred to him.

"Yes you did. You always mean what you say." Daniel hugs herself tighter. She looks away. She wants to cry.

"Yes," he allows after a beat. "Okay, I meant what I said but I did not say it how I meant to. I just meant that the earrings are not the things which made you pretty, that -"

"And Victoria told you to say that, did she?" Daniel says, voice back to bitterness.

"No, she didn't," Max replies, his own tone beginning to sound annoyed, like Daniel is intentionally vexing him. "But she did tell... well, she made me think, and what I think is that you are not very happy, Daniel."

Daniel jerks her head up, staring at him.

"What?"

"Happy," he repeats, brows knitted together. "I do not think you are happy."

Nobody has said that to her. She has been praised or accused, her new look attracting attention and labels and names. But in all the rush and noice and chatter, nobody had said that.

"I am happy," she says after a pause, mind racing. "Of course I'm happy. Why wouldn't I be happy?"

His lips thin. "You do not smile any more. Not like how you used to."

Daniel barks out a laugh, feeling something in her chest constrict even further.

So then they have a Big Argument and Max says he does not understand why she has changed her appearance so much if it's making her so miserable and he does not like how she dresses and acts because she's not laughing or smiling anymore and she is not happy. Daniel snaps back that maybe she doesn't give two shits about what he thinks (the irony burning her from the inside out) and the argument gets even worst and eventually Daniel storms off and Max doesnt follow her.

When she gets home she just lays on her bed and cries and doesn't even bother taking off her makeup, even though she knows her mother would scold her and say she'll get spots.

It's summer break and Daniel watches as Kelly posts photo after photo of Max on holidays with her family, and Daniel just... gives up. She didn't care. It was never possible, because she's not like women like Kelly. She's Daniel, and no amount of straightened hair or revealing dresses will change that.

So she throws it all out. She bags all her new clothes into bin bags and leaves it anonymously outside a charity shop. She throws out all her makeup. She gives her straightener to a alpha tauri worker for their daughter. She lets the hair on her upper lip grow back. She goes back to her baggy shirts and ancient ripped jeans and frizzy hair. She stops caring, and it's one of the most freeing things she's ever done. She's Daniel again, Daniel with the crazy curls and oversized shirts. Daniel. Herself again.

Everyone is disappointed. Her mother barely speaks for the entire facetime they do, her lips thin in disapproval as she takes in Daniel's altered style. Her sister snaps at Daniel for wasting her time looking for advice if she was just going back to not bothering about how she looks. The papers declare "Babe-cardo is gone" and publish photos of her wearing dresses and make up as if it's a eulogy.

She is nervous to see Max again, waiting for his expression to fall as he sees she's back to being messy, ugly Daniel. Instead, his face lights up when he walks into the meeting room and sees her. They haven't spoken since their fight, haven't even texted, but Daniel blurts out a stupid joke about how even under the Mediterranean sun Max still has the colouring of a sickly Victorian child, but Max laughs and then Daniel laugh, back to her honking laugh which makes everyone turn and look at her, and just like that she knows her and Max are back to normal.

Only it's more than normal. When everyone else looks at her like she's a let down, Max smiles as if he never quite wants to stop looking at her. When some reporter asks in a patronising manner if she was trying different hair textures to see which is more aerodynamic, Max replies before Daniel can even begin to form a polite PR answer, pointing out George now has a middle parting, and surely that's much more important news then Daniel's curls, and everyone laughs and looks at George as he blushes and tries to stammer out a response. But Daniel just looks at Max, who looks back from across the opposite side of the interviewing coach. And she grins, and then Max grins back and laughs softly, looking away.

And this is pretty much the point where the tags on the fic begin. Max and Daniel are somehow closer than ever. Max keeps giving her compliments, which is new, but they're always such Max compliments Daniel can't help but laugh as he says them. Like "you are only a few seconds behind me, they is very good" or "Daniel, is your bagpack new it is very lovely and big" about a rucksack he's definitely seen her with about a hundreds time before (((but the compliments are never about her physical appearance, which Daniel never actually realises and possibly Max doesnt even realise it either. She's just Daniel, and it's her smile and her sense of humour and her liveliness which makes her beautiful to Max, not how she styles her hair or which clothes she wears))).

So then Daniel finally wins a race and Max is the first to hug her tightly and tell her how amazing she is and how lovely her drive was and of course if be hasn't had engine problems then she would've had a proper fight on her hands but he is sure it is the first of many podiums they'll share and Daniel's just laughing and hugging him back and on the podium she gets Max to do a shoey but holds her shoe to his lips and watches as the champaign runs down over his lips and the buldge of his Adams apple moves with his swallowing and she suddenly feels very drunk and slightly ill, knowing she can't have any of it but now after making her peace with it.

And down below Kelly is like 🤨🤨🤨 and doesn't understand because Max definitely didn't desire Daniel when she tried to be pretty (not very successfully either, she thinks) so how could he find her desirable now in a sweaty race suit and with inked arms dusted with dark hair and wild curls which are more frizz then anything else and a smile which seems almost cartoonist its so unnaturally big???? But she knows what she saw, watching him gently brush a few wayward curls away which had been glued to Daniel's forehead and cheeks by the champaign, watching him drink from her shoe, watching him smile at Daniel as if she's the only thing he can see.

So that night she gives him an ultimate. He has to stop seeing Daniel, or else she'll leave. And Max is like wtf Kelly isn't like other girls she's secure!!! And it's just Daniel!!!! And Kelly just snaps its pathetic and embarrassing how obviously he pines after the weirdo, and Max just goes very still and Kelly tells him Daniel is probably a lesbian anyway from how she dresses (we bringing all types of internalised misogyny in this fic🫠) and they wouldn't make any sense but him and Kelly are perfect, and Max just nods because he doesn't... him and Kelly make Sense. She's beautiful and classy and his dad tells Max that he picked well with her and people in f1 always tell him how lucky he is to have such a beautiful girlfriend and his mum writes "Max and Kelly" in letters now and somehow Max nodding is equating to him texting Daniel, Kelly dictating exactly what to say.

And Daniel gets the text and just sort of feels herself falling apart and it's so unfair because he said her earrings were pretty and then took it back, how could Kelly possibly think she's a threat to her?? But Daniel does what Max asks and doesn't text him and he doesn't text her and at the next race they acknowledge each other as nothing more then professional coworkers and Daniel wonders if this is what heartbreak is like, and how losing Max as a friend is a thousand times worse than when she admitted to herself he'd never find her desirable.

She goes back to Monaco for the two week break. She buys a photo of a shark, this one swimming and alive and looking so real she swears his eyes follow her. She hangs it in her living room. She loves it. She buys flowers. She cleans her apartment. She tries to learn to bake.

Then, a knock on her door. She's half way through baking a possibly unsaveble batch of brownies (she got the salt and sugar mixed up :((( ) and opens the door with an old Red Bull apron, a lá a Red Bull PR Christmas videos from years back, and hair in a wild mess and tattered Aussie slippers and there's Max. And even before she can comprehend he's standing there with a bouquet of especially drooping flowers he's marching in past her, going to the cabinet to get a vase all while complaining about how awful the florists in Monaco are and how they fucked up his order and how one day he will take her to the Netherlands, proper, not just for a race, and show her the tulips fields and then she will get proper flowers and and and and -

And Daniel is just standing by the still open door, staring at him, distantly wondering if she's astronomically fucked up the oven temperatures and this is CO2 poisoning. Max suddenly stills, stopping mid sentence to worry his lip before turning and blurting out "You're not a lesbian, are you?"

And Daniel is so shocked she bursts out laughing and Max's cheeks flood warm and he quickly says that of course it would be fine if she is, he has lots of gay and bi friends and besides, he knows he likes Daniel in a lot of ways and he would be happy having her as a friend because she's his best one and he -

And Daniel takes pitying on him and finally says no Max I'm not a lesbian and Max just sort of nods and looks away, and Daniel finally shuts the door but can't stop staring at him and then she laughing again, but in delight and happiness and joy as she finally realises what he said and what he meant, and then Max is laughing too and she can still feel the smile on his lips when they kiss.

And they have wonderful, pent-up-longing-finally-released make out session in her kitchen and then Daniel's alarm goes off and they spring apart as if they're teenagers caught misbehaving and Daniel looks at Max and Max looks back at her and then she grins and he looks so relieved and smiles back.

"I have wanted to do that for a long time," Max admits softly, cheeks blazing as he helps Daniel cut the brownies into squares. She looks at him but he won't meet her eye and then it somehow comes out in mutters and blushes that he's liked her for literal years, but of course she would not like someone like him, she's too cool and free and extroverted, and he moved on and Daniel just can't believe it (((Max loves her for things which aren't her physical appearance!!!)))) and tells Max he's an idiot and when he looks up at her in surprise, she kisses him.

And then Max tries her brownie and Daniel is weirdly afraid something mightve changed between them now but he takes one bite and makes a face and tells her she has always been a bit of a shit cook but this is astronomically shit and Daniel laughs and playfully shoves him and then tries a piece and can't even pretend to enjoy it. They throw it out and Max orders from their favourite Chinese and then life gets bigger and bigger and Max doesnt care if Daniel dresses smart or casual or shave or wears make up, but the one thing he insists on is she not straighten her hair again because he likes to wind the curls around his fingers and tug softly on then. Daniel somehow smiles even more and her laugh is even louder but she no longer cares, and the shark painting in her living room continues to watch her with bright, black eyes and Max eats all the ice cream left in her freezer that she hasn't been able to touch and each time she thinks she can't get any happier, Max will or complain about her thick hair clogging up the shower drain or ban her from cooking unless he's there to supervise and keep the salt and sugar separate or or or

And it goes on like that, happy and in love :)))

[cornerihaunt]

also uhm.

[astreamofconsciousness]

throwaway account for all of my nonsense thoughts

[missrosieb]

I used to have a mug, it said the beatings will continue until morale improves.

I used to drink from it and think of you.

My heart black and blue, from the words you used.

We're fine, it's fine, you're overreacting.

But your lips tasted of another.

I felt as your grip went from firm to limp

You were next to me but I felt you slipping away.

Two souls on opposite shores, a widening sea between them.

No matter how far I swam, I could never reach you.

By the time I was in the deep, I could swim no more.

As I sank beneath the waves, I saw you walking away.

My heart was heavy, I sank like a lead weight.

I washed up on the shore.

Choking on the memories of you.

You found out, you offered to come back, to love me like before.

You told me nothing had changed, we could still be the same.

You're sorry that happened, you didn't mean for it to be that way.

You stroked my hair, cupped my face.

Begged me to return to my place.

But I chose to crawl away from you.

That mug broke, I cut myself on the shards.

It turned into a scar, a visual reminder to the one on my heart.

It aches sometimes, a distant echo of the love I once knew.

The beatings are over and morale has improved.

[is-this-home]

Things aren't going well perfectly fine i don't know maybe i should end all these thoughts are too loud should i run away from home is where you are nowhere to be found in the uncaring expanse of space that i need right now

My thoughts are unsorted and messy, most of the time i just try to ignore them or push them away

Could you be the one to help me sort them out?

It seems unlikely, but

I doubt I'd have gotten this far without hope

[bibleofficial]

100% certain kp is avoiding me & idk why but im pretty sure omar made up some shit for then to eat up 🙄 but he left a few days ago idk raid told me earlier & im sooooo RELIEVED like FINALLY someone that’s NOT going to fucking HARM ME anymore 😭😭😭

[aquaticaberration]

I always feel weird bringing up new things to my therapist because

a) I feel like it just comes out of nowhere to her so I worry that she might think I'm making something up, and if I push that it'll become something that bites me in the ass in the future

b) those things have become such a regular part of my life that I just don't think of them as problems even though they sometimes cause such problems that I keep internalized very well

and c) my depression has overshadowed so much of what I deal with that everything else just pales in comparison, which is part of the problem and why I worry a bit about recovery because it might unlock a lot of other issues like how digging reveals fossils except it's trauma and various mental health issues I've pushed down to be able to function

[roseverdict]

once again thinking abt that time ages ago when i was scrolling and found something funny and stifled a laugh so hard i got my drink up my nose. so i reblogged and said *snorts tea* and somebody immediately started just absolutely tearing into me and mocking me on their own blog. like. "oh of course [they're] like this [he]'s a white girl lmfaooooo" (pronouns adjusted bc i have since cracked my gender egg)

meanwhile i still had brisk tea dribbling from my nose (ow) and had never once heard of "tea" as the slang term for gossip/dirt/whatever until long after this incident. so i was just extremely befuddled and annoyed by the whole thing.

i don't even remember what the original post was about or the url of the person who did that. and i have no way of finding it on this accursed broken-search webbed sight. and honestly i don't want to go out of my way to try and remember. leave the blame in the past. but i hope they've grown out of ripping apart random children on the internet like the cliquish coworkers i had at a plus-size clothing store who were mortified that my *furtive glances in either direction* *hisses* cellulite *normal voice* was showing through my leggings one time.

like.

what's the idea behind trying to look skinnier than you are when you work at a plus-size clothing store? people are gonna exist in all sizes, why not be evidence that even the ones who aren't stick-thin supermodels can be confident in their fatness?

what's the point of trying to make a laughingstock of a kid who'd been kept away from internet culture against their will and hadn't immediately groked on to Everything? do you have hobbies beyond emulating Mean Girls

[lucifer-the-fetus-eater]

I have a few ideas!!!

Now this is long, so... Prepare to venture into the pandora's box that is my category 7 autism event.

Below the cut for sake of space !

So long it could be the colors of the sky post... just significantly more cursed because it's tf2 lore speculation.

"You've been a real monster up there. Honestly, you probably would have ended up here anyway. I feel silly that we even bothered with a contract."

-The Devil on pg. #209 of TF Comics #6

The Devil himself called The Medic a monster. And honestly, I doubt he's far off.

Kill count alone can't be enough to get someone into Hell. As we saw, Sniper and Scout got into Heaven. It's not explicitly stated what gets one into Heaven or Hell in the TF2 universe. All we have to go off of is implication.

Sniper and Scout are paid killers. This is widely considered by humanity to be pretty damn immoral. But here's the thing. They're killers who kill killers. They're paid to kill people who also kill.

"But you left a lot of rotten @#$%s down there that need killin'." "Yer mum's right. A professional wouldn't quit when there's still more work to be done."

-Sniper's parents on pg. #61 of TF Comics #5: Old Wounds

By "rotten @#$%s" I'm going to assume Sniper's mother is talking about other paid killers; mercenaries. I believe Heaven operates on grey moral principles in this universe. Yes, Sniper's killing people... but he's not killing innocent people.

It's similar for Scout (ignoring the Mall Santa Training Facility incident for just a moment...) I don't think it's mentioned or shown anywhere that Scout has explicitly murdered an innocent person. Sure, he's been an asshole. But based on God's behavior, I don't think that's enough to bar him from Heaven either. I mean-- regardless of what Scout has done, God does state that he's His gift to women... So I don't think God is the best person either. (Honestly, God is biased and must have ignored the Mall Santa Training Facility incident all together.)

"Aw, come on, God. Don't destroy humanity. They're good people at heart. Just a buncha dum-dums tryin' their best."

-The Scout on pg. #180 of TF Comics #6: The Naked and the Dead. (Holy shit, I can't believe Scout of all people had to convince God not to smite everybody.)

So it seems God is a little forgiving when it comes to letting people into Heaven. (And... He's also just kind of a douche.) In that case... What does it mean when The Devil Himself tells Medic he probably would've ended up in Hell anyway?

Now this is definitely my own perspective, but...

There are fates worse than death.

The act of ending someone's life, while cruel, isn't... the worst you can do. That would be torture-- prolonged suffering. Unethical medical experimentation would certainly be one of those things.

In Meet the Medic, while Medic is telling Heavy the story of how he lost his medical license, he specifically says "When the patient woke up..." implying the patient survived the procedure. Maybe this is conjecture. It's possible that the medic was being sarcastic. But what if he wasn't?

Not only did he steal a man's entire skeleton, the patient might've just survived the procedure. The Medic was able to preserve BLU Spy's severed head in his refrigerator. Who's to say he didn't find a way to keep somebody alive without a skeleton? In real life, you can't survive without your skeleton. But... I mean... the TF2 universe is full of science fiction crap that isn't all that realistic. We also wouldn't know how long he could've survived without the skeleton. Could've been anywhere from hours to years. (This is a wildly different case from real life, but I this reminded me of the case of Hisashi Ouchi, who received a lethal dose of radiation in 1999 during a criticality accident. He survived for 83 days after the ordeal with drastic medical intervention. Why I started thinking about it is because the man's bone marrow was utterly destroyed, so his body couldn't regenerate new cells. Something to consider when thinking about the logistics of somebody surviving without their skeleton. Ok I'm getting distracted-- discretion advised if you decide to look that up. It's genuinely horrific. Can't emphasize that enough.)

There's also the whole brain-inside-a-pumpkin deal. Yes, the victim was a criminal; a mugger, to be specific. Sure, he wasn't the best person in life. But does that mean he deserved to have his brain meticulously cut out and relegated to being trapped inside of a pumpkin?? I'll go out on a limb here and say that's some I Have No Mouth and I must Scream bullshit. I mean... He can still talk, but... Outside of that and think, not much else. That's terrifying. I'd even say, the skeleton-lacking patient probably experienced something similar if he survived and only had some rudimentary structure to keep his body's structure. (Sidenote: The Engineer was an accomplice in the sentient pumpkin debacle... just throwing that out there...)

With incidents like the baboon uteruses, the uber-heart transplant, and Sniper's resurrection also in mind, we can establish that Medic has a clear pattern of behavior. That being... He likes to experiment on people. Not always for their benefit. (He's no stranger to experimenting on himself, either. He does state that he surgically grafted 8 other souls into his own. In the game, he can receive the benefits of übercharge. Oh, can't forget The Second Opinion or Medimedes cosmetics. Depends on whether you consider those canon or not.)

"...the Medic considers healing a generally unintended side effect of satisfying his own morbid curiosity."

-Medic's bio on the official TF2 Website

I sincerely doubt, in the Medic's approximately fifty years of existence, these are the only experiments he's conducted. They're the only ones mentioned or shown, but I sincerely believe he's got a whole undepicted track record of doing whatever the hell he wants with those unfortunate enough to find themselves on his operating table. It's no wonder he'd end up in Hell with or without a soul-binding deal.

Given the Devil's statement about feeling silly that they even bothered with a contract, I doubt it was his "corruption" that influenced Medic to behave the way he does.

"Well. You're a clever man. You tempted me once, after all. I'm sure you'll figure out a way to trick me out of my other eight souls."

-Medic on pg. #220 of TF Comics #6.

Medic does admit he was tempted by the Devil's proposition. But I believe he was appealing to the Devil's ego here. He even says "I'm sure you'll figure out a way to trick me out of my other eight souls." This doesn't read genuinely. In the next frame, he immediately jumps to mentioning the Devil's "lovely looking pen." He then proceeds to further imply that the Devil could "trick" him out of another soul with it.

The devil looks confused, bamboozled, even. The Medic is walking away all smug like this:

"Ohhhh, what have I done? See, you're well on your way! I don't like my chances."

-The Medic on pg. #225 of TF Comic #6.

This is definitely sarcasm. I'm gonna go ahead and say I don't think the Devil tempted Medic at all. Rather, Medic was the one who tempted the Devil.

The circumstances regarding Medic's first meeting with the Devil are debatable. I could definitely concoct some theories as to what might've happened, but for now I'll conserve some mental energy and process that later.

Medic's procedures are not only unethical, but extremely difficult to execute. One might say, even impossible.

"Please. I am a doctor. You will not die on my table. I'll just kill you here."

-Medic on pg. #101 of TF Comic #6.

Alright. This doesn't prove anything. But it did give me an idea... One could even say... a headcannon... [lightning crash]

What if Medic used his deal with the Devil to decrease the mortality rate of his patients?

Medic's experiments can be very drastic. He kind of just does whatever the hell he wants and gets away with it. It's possible that perhaps somewhere in the clauses of his contract with the Devil, it's explicitly written that his patients "Can't die on his table." Meaning whatever he does to them can't kill them outright.

Or, alternatively, to preserve the idea that Medic is very skilled on his own, the Devil provided him access to ✨forbidden knowledge✨... Such as some visceral idea as to the inner workings of the universe. Some divine... or cursed inclination as to the ingredients for life. No doubt it took him a while to figure out how exactly to use that knowledge. Memorizing a book doesn't make you a rocket scientist until you put that knowledge into practice.

It's nothing the Medic could ever explain. It's like instinct, it's just something he's aware of. That's why he can take a man's skeleton and leave him living (allegedly.) Why he can remove a delicate brain and put it in a pumpkin. And with some engineering expertise at his beck and call, keep that little shit alive.

The Medic isn't magic.

He just knows things nobody else does.

Alright yeah I think that's all. Unless there was something substantial I forgot to consider. Likely because by this point I'm exhausted.

Except I need to circle back for a moment because I forgot to explain what I meant by the Medic tempted the Devil. So. Quick Encore:

I think, perhaps, the Medic proposed an additional clause in their deal. He'd be allowed to handle souls. He claimed he'd use this ability to send more of them to Hell. Collect them... sort of like the soul gargoyle... and ferry them off to the Devil somehow. It just so happens being able to handle souls also makes it so you're able to interact with them in other ways, too. For example... Surgically grafting them.

And that's not something the Devil considered.

Hey, remember when TF2 comics were a thing, and there was this great scene of medic bargaining with the Devil?

Well in that scene there's this particular line which got me wondering.

First -: How likely is it that medic only went to hell for selling his soul? I mean scout and sniper went to heaven and they for sure killed more people, Scout even blew up a Santa training facility , which I'm fairly certain is terrorism. And sniper's whole thing is killing people and he's proud of it.

Meanwhile while medic did probably kill some people, it's not likely that it's more than these two. His biggest crimes are stealing a skeleton, stealing a brain and stuffing it in a pumpkin, and stealing 8 souls from other mercs, and all victims of these crimes survived, sooo...

The other thing it got me wondering... What exactly did he sold his soul for? And here I don't really have an answer, immortality clearly isn't that since he did, well, die, in order for this scene to happen. Talent or intelligence ? Doesn't sit right, I mean it implies that he didn't worked for his achievement , or even worse that he's so immortal only because da devil corrupted him, and that just stinks. So I'd like to hear your ideas if you got any.

[llegroai]

I'm still reallly inactive but if anyone wants a bluesky code hmu btw!

[apostateapologist]

here's the thing, here's the thing, most healthy people have some baggage, they have the sort of hum drum household anxieties that are everywhere regardless of upbringing. anxieties about being understood, being loved, being wanted, being safe, feeling valued and having goals, a purpose, to direct them. and so, in naturally gravitating towards something to soothe those anxieties, most people are already a bit vulnerable to manipulation, to exploitation.

now you add a calamity, add severe weather conditions that you've only known for the past five years, add deteriorating infrastructure, add wealth disparity and religious repetition and rituals and military conditioning that encourage dissociative states of consciousness and punitive justice systems and witch hunts, add an escalation in the ongoing war that's been the foundation of your society's government and religious systems for about a thousand years, the wheel on this was turning long before you were born, before your father or mother or their parents, and then, and then, seeing how your entire life has been based on harnessing your natural response to that kind of fear and stress and trauma, you are selected and groomed to serve your fellow man in the fight against the dragons, to protect the people, the right kinds of people, to keep the dragons and the dangers and the heretics away, to persuade people from even thinking heretical thoughts, for their safety, for their own good, and it's your insistence on hope and its your light that shines through, to want to help, to be useful, to make things better, that's what's further exploited and weaponized against your better judgement, and that's what leads you into the monastic knighthood.

you didn't really have a chance. but you can't forgive the people around you, your peers, for what you've all done either. so it's really not a question of if you forgive yourself or if you have the right to be angry about this. you'll never be able to escape what they've made you into - so neither should they.

[reignpage]

Best Roommate Ever!

Summary: your sweet roommate, Choso, is not who he seems Word Count: 1k Warnings: smut, dubcon, perv!choso, manipulation, coercion, handjob, cursing, nonconsensual picture taking, pillow fucking, ooc, dark themes, fem!reader, not proofread

Roommate!Choso is a blessing — he’s the cleanest person you’ve ever met, he’s sweet and kind, doesn’t bring over loud guests, and never fights you for the remote. He makes soup when you're sick, helps with the chores, and gets along great with you.

Pervy roommate!Choso waits until you leave for your job to walk into your room and jump onto your bed, inhaling your scent from the pillows. He buries his face in it, gripping the soft material as he grinds into your mattress, overwhelmed by your smell and the images of you writhing in bed the way he is.

Roommate!Choso does the laundry and never complains. He separates the whites from the colours, doesn’t cheap out on laundry detergent and fabric softener. Hell, what kind of guy uses fabric softener? 

Pervy roommate!Choso  loves to do the laundry because he gets to see what you’ve been wearing under all those tight jeans, see what colours you gravitate towards, and know whether you’ve touched yourself at all the past week.

You had just come out of the shower, and he was knocking on the door, talking about how the laundry needs to be done immediately. Truthfully, he just wanted to pocket the flimsy material at the top of the pile and press the still wet gusset to his nose. 

Pervy roommate!Choso groans, free hand shoved into his sweats, soothing the throbbing of his cock by squeezing the base the way he thinks you would, firm and teasing. He loves the way your pussy smells and oh god he wishes he could smell it from the source, but he’ll settle for tonguing the wet spot, eyes rolling back at the taste of you. 

Roommate!Choso laughs when you can’t find your favourite thongs, claiming the washing machine eats up things like all his socks, and doesn’t dare say it’s actually in his pocket right now. 

Pervy roommate!Choso sneaks into your room when you’re asleep, eyes roving over the shorts riding up your ass, and the way your big shirt is bunched up right under your tits. 

He snaps a pic of the curves of your ass, lifting the hem slightly so more of your plump cheek is on show. Your skin is soft, and he just can’t help himself; he smooths a hand over your thigh, thumb pressing to watch the flesh bounce and ripple.

And then he’s moving upwards, careful fingers pushing the shirt up and over your tits, unrestrained and gorgeous in the moonlight streaming through the curtains. 

Pervy roommate!Choso sucks a finger, skin absorbing the warmth of his mouth before he’s skimming your nipple, poking the stiffening bud. Kneeling, he takes a risk, heart beating abnormally fast as he keeps an eye out on your face. Any flicker of consciousness and he’ll disappear back into his room. 

He sticks a tongue out, the tip jutting just a little so he can poke at your nipple. His eyes roll back at the knowledge of how wrong it is and then he’s throwing caution to the wind and wrapping his lips around it, sucking hard before you groan. 

When you wake up, you’re confused as to why your shirt is almost choking you and your nipple is oddly sensitive. 

And wet?

Roommate!Choso decides he needs more, that he can’t stand the sneaking around. He needs you, needs to feel your willing touch. But there’s no way he can risk putting his heart on the sleeve and be rejected, because then he’ll lose you. 

Pervy roommate!Choso calls you into his room, claiming his pelvis is sore. You suggest taking him to the hospital, but he blushes, it’s too embarrassing. So, you take pity on your poor roommate and offer to massage it for him. 

A small smile crawls on his face and as soon as a yes leaves your mouth, he’s shoving his sweats down with more vigour than he would have liked.  You don’t notice. Rubbing your hands together, you blow warmth between them before pressing your fingers to his upper thighs and his lower abdomen. 

You’re touching everywhere but where he wants you to, poking and prodding to ease a soreness that doesn't exist. 

Pervy roommate!Choso groans. The ache has moved upwards to his dick. How humiliating. But you don’t mind, do you?

Wrapping your hand around his base, you look up at him with those wide innocent eyes he loves so much and ask if it’s okay, if he’s feeling better, and oh, is he ever?

You jerk him off exactly how he imagined, thumb brushing across his slit and using his cum to smooth the descent. He cums all over your hands, back arching and your name on his tongue.

Roommate!Choso loves movies nights with you! He loves when you snuggle up right next to him, resting your head on his shoulder and sharing a bowl of popcorn. It’s so much fun to critique cheesy dialogue with you. 

Pervy roommate!Choso loves movie nights for another reason; you fall asleep after the second movie like clockwork, hand buried in the popcorn. He scoots the bowl away very carefully, watching your hand fall limp onto his crotch. 

He presses it down harder with his own, hips rutting upwards to chase that pressure and turn it into pleasure. He can’t cum like this, it isn’t enough, but he can if he manages to tuck that hand under his pyjama bottoms, using the oil from the popcorn as lubricant, UTI be damned. 

When you wake up and he’s wiping your hands clean, he chastises you for dozing off without washing up. And you thank him for being so sweet and thoughtful, assuming the flush of his cheeks is from the compliment and not the rapid beat of his heart from being almost caught. 

Pervy roommate!Choso steals your pillows whilst you’re out with friends, he ties them together with rope, taping pictures of parts of your sleeping body onto his creation. 

He rams his throbbing dick inside, cursing the fact that it’s not tight enough but it’ll have to do. He pictures the way your tits would bounce as he pounds into you, the way your pussy would gush around his cock, forming a creamy white ring, and if he closes his eyes, he can hear your moans, can hear you cry out for more. 

Pervy roommate!Choso envisions your sloppy cunt clenching down on him as you cum at the same time he squirts inside, biting his lip to stifle his whimpers. 

The pillow covers are ripped up from his death grip, drying stains of his guilt soaking into the cotton.

Thankfully, you don’t question why he’s bought you brand new pillows, instead giving him a hug for the gift.

He’s just such a great roommate!