#yes this is just an excuse to go through my favorite media

[sparkoflena]

The problem with being really really into a game/book is that at some point, you FINISH the game/book and there is no more new content.

What am I supposed to do with my life THEN

[writersdrug]

Someone sent an anonymous ask about Soap being all whiny and jealous, complaining to Simon about how lucky he is to have such a pretty, curvy girl and Tumblr swallowed it 😫 (This is gonna be a 2 parter)

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, sub soap and reader, dom ghost, training, voyeurism

But I can imagine Ghost would be so sick and tired of it. Johnny's constantly yapping like the mutt he truly is: "Yer a lucky man, LT. Findin' a pretty bird like that." "Where'd ye get her? Need to find one for myself." "She as soft as she sounds?"

Ghost wants to snap at him for talking about you like that - he shouldn't be talking about you at all. But he knows the poor man is just lonely, aching to have something soft and supple like you. Your smiling face smushed between Ghost's fingers when you come to drop off the lunch he forgot. The jeans that fit snuggly around your ass and thighs, the shirt that hugs the swell of your breasts, stretched thin as it barely contains them... poor Johnny boy can't help but whine at the sight of something so appetizing, so soft and warm right there - he's jealous of his LT. How did someone so hard around the edges pluck something so sweet?

Simon hates to see him so upset, pouting in the corner like a scolded puppy as you stare at your boyfriend with stars in your eyes. Johnny could have a girl, but he gets overeager: fucking them on the first date, leaving them sore and bitten and tearful. He's too rough, and they're quick to excuse themselves, fleeing the next morning and blocking him from all social media.

Johnny needs to learn to be patient and gentle with his toys. He's nice enough to let the sergeant practice with his own pretty girl, and you're more than happy to assist Soap with his green-eyed monster.

After a nice dinner at his LT's house, served by you - along with some bronze, liquid courage - Johnny sits on the recliner, chatting with Ghost, who's relaxed on the sofa. You enter the living room and stand next to Simon, biting your lip excitedly and staring between the two of them. Simon wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to sit on the arm of the sofa.

"Y' think she's pretty?" He asks Johnny, who blinks.

Gorgeous. Comely. Ravishing. "Course I do." He responds plainly, trying not to get worked up over the way you're perched next to his LT so prettily.

"Yea, you do..." Simon mutters, squeezing the flesh at your thigh. "What's it you said? 'She must look nice, spillin' out my hands’?"

Soap is nothing short of mortified. His eyes are wide, staring back at Simon - he doesn't know what to say. He said those things within the secrecy of his conversation with his lieutenant - he didn't expect him to repeat it outside of that bubble, let alone in front of you, the person in question.

"N' what else was it? 'Need t' have a pretty li'l wife with a rack like that to lay my head-"

"Simon!!"

Soap finally glares at his LT, his fingers digging into his own thighs. His heart is pounding in his chest. Is Ghost trying to get you to hate him?

You giggle and stand upright. "It's ok, Johnny." You coo, slowly walking over to him with your hands behind your back. "I like it. It means you like me."

Soap has little time to do anything but grunt when you swing a leg over his thighs and seat yourself in his lap. Your cleavage is right there, just inches from his face, and he can feel the bare skin of your thighs burning through his trousers.

"Help me take this off?" You tug at the skirt of your dress, looking down at him with those innocent, glossy eyes.

He can't breathe. His clothes are too hot and too tight, his cock nearly choking in the confines of his pants. He looks to his lieutenant for help - Ghost just smiles, like he's watching his favorite porn. He might be, depending on how this plays out.

"Go on, Johnny. Slowly."

Johnny wants to be anything but slow, once he realizes his best friend is showing you off like a collectible toy. He looks back up at you, watching the way your plump lip catches between your teeth. He carefully reaches around, grabbing the back of your neckline and tugging the zipper down - slowly, as he was instructed. He can barely focus on the movement with your breasts right there, imagining what they'd taste like between his warm lips. The shoulders of your dress fall away, revealing the lacy bra you're wearing. He looks up at you, drool pooling under his tongue as you slide your hands over his shoulders, one coming around to play with the base of his mohawk.

"You can take it off." You whisper.

He wastes no time, his hands smoothing up your back and unclasping your bra in one motion. He helps you pull it from your shoulders - your breasts, round and full, now pressing against his chest. He wants to touch. He needs to touch.

He shoots a hungry, pleading look to Ghost - he nods back at Soap, which is all the sergeant needs to absolve his filthy behavior. He closes your breast in his palm, eyes hazy as he takes your nipple into his warm mouth. He hardly has to move his head forward because you lean into his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair and your back arching deliciously. Johnny groans, using one hand to dig his fingers into the thick flesh at your hips, and his other to press his palm against your lower back. He shifts himself down as his tongue swirls around your nipple, groans leaving his throat and reverberating against the bud, quickly hardening from his ministrations. You sound so sweet, high-pitched coos and soft breaths pouring from between your lips as you press your weight against Soap, shoving your breast as far into his mouth as he can take. You kiss the crown of his head, whispering a good boy against his skin.

He practically whines, bucking his hips upwards, relishing in how your body grounds him into the sofa cushions. He releases your breast with a pop and quickly takes the other one into his hand, sealing his lips over it with a hum. He looks up at you through wanting, begging eyes as you toss your head back, squeezing your thighs around his hips. His tongue undulates against your stiffening peak, slobbering around the underside of your breast as he gives you another experimental jerk of his hips. You gasp, rolling your hips back down onto him and staring at him with your lust-blown pupils.

His cock is demanding to be let free. He's going to fuck you hard, he's going to pound you into the chair until you're begging, showing his LT just how much of a good boy he is. He's never felt this blazing forest fire within his veins, setting off nerve after nerve and burning a trail right down to his hard, throbbing member.

He hooks his fingers into the hem of your soaked panties, fully intending to rip them off - but you quickly grab his wrist and yank his hand away. He looks at you, blinking through his trance as a look of confusion settles on his face. "Wha's wrong?"

You giggle his expression - the sound goes straight to his tip with another rush of blood. "These are for Simon." you whisper, slowly pushing yourself off of Soap's lap. He lets his arms fall to his sides with a desperate look, letting you back away, right into Ghost's waiting lap.

"Gonna show ya a thing or two, Johnny." he says, pulling you back to his chest. "Teach ya a few tricks, maybe you'll be able t' keep a woman longer than a day." he pulls a switchblade from his pocket and flicks it open. The blade drags down over your belly - you chew your lip as it electrifies your skin, the tip sliding lower and lower until he's running it over your pussy. The fabric is soaked as he lingers there, the sharp edge barely separated from your cunt by your flimsy, drenched panties.

You stare at Soap, not once breaking eye contact as Ghost slices through the fabric. Soap's mouth is agape in disbelief and lust, enamored by the sight before him. He can't tear his eyes from the view of your sopping, glistening pussy, watching as Simon slides his thick fingers over your folds. He catches his thumb under the hood of your clit and you jolt, shooting a hand down to grab his wrist - but he doesn't stop. You whine and mewl, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he flicks the bud, strumming over it slowly.

He stares Soap in the eyes, watching his reaction. "Alright there, Johnny?"

He's drooling, mouth hung open, hypnotized by the way your muscles clench with each stroke of Simon’s thumb. “… Aye…” he manages to say – his fingers dig into the cushions beneath him as he tries to control the urge to tear across the room and drive his cock into your cunt, fucking you against his lieutenant’s chest the way you deserve: rough and hard. Simon’s been teasing you too long; you need to be ravaged, orgasm after orgasm pulled from you, faster than you can think.

“Let me have a go, yea?” he says boldly, looking at Simon with desperation. “That’s what this is, right? Ye want me to fuck ‘er nice? I’ll do it. I’ll do it, sir – I’ll take good care of her-“

“No you won’t.” Simon interjects before the dog can get too riled up. His fingers are now strumming up and through your folds, and you’re panting and staring at Johnny with needy desire. “’S why you can’t keep anyone. You’re too eager.”

The truth shoots through Soap’s chest like an arrow, and he meets Simon’s gaze. He’s obviously rock-hard in his trousers, he won’t even attempt to hide it. Simon’s got a cocky, knowing smirk on his face, and you… poor you is just wishing Simon would spit out what he wants to say, so the three of you could get on with the show.

“Gonna teach you a few secrets, sergeant.” Simon says, and Soap isn’t sure what to think about having his rank used in this situation. “My girl needs to cum.” He pulls his fingers away from you – you whine in frustration, but are quickly silenced when two, thick digits are stuffed into your mouth. You obediently clean off your own slick with your tongue, looking back down at Johnny with a heavy, lidded stare.

“I’ll make her cum.” Soap says quickly. If this is a matter of whether or not he can make someone cum, he’ll pass that test easily.

“You’ll do it right.” Simon growls. “Need to understand the difference between getting’ your cock wet and pleasuring ‘er. ‘S my girl ‘n I won’t have you roughhousing ‘er. Got it?”

Soap’s throat bobs as he swallows. It was another task, another order from his superior. He clears his mind of any preprogrammed, lustful thoughts, sent straight to his brain from his achingly hard member – this wasn’t about him. It was about following instructions. He was a good soldier, he could do that much.

“Yes sir.”

Simon nods. He shifts hips, pulling his fingers from your lipsand grabbing your hips. You grab his forearms for support as he spreads his muscular thigs, forcing your legs farther apart as they rest on either side of his knees. Slick dribbles down from your pussy and onto Simon’s length, which is about to tear a hole through his pants.

“Then get to it. Sick of hearin’ you yap all day about not bein’ able to keep a girl. Put your mouth to good use – we’re about to fix that.”

[qqueenofhades]

can you assuage my creeping fear about the debate between harris and trump? my brain is like. the media will be salivating over any chance to get the story HARRIS FLUBS THE DEBATE MORE AT 6 unless she's 100% perfect for it. i keep telling myself that she's an incredibly seasoned prosecutor who knows exactly what to do to unravel these sorts of people, she has plenty of time to prepare, he's completely gone over the edge into incoherence most of the time, but i also keep thinking of how, after weeks of her absolutely pile-driving the republican party, the media will be circling for any mistake, mis-step, or imperfection to blow out of proportion to make it seem like she's failing. i guess what i'm afraid of is the other shoe dropping? or the bubble bursting? i'm afraid of this hope?

i was barely aware of obama in 2008, too young to vote and not paying attention, so i don't know how this kind of momentum turned into the juggernaut that got him elected. i know you believe that the same can happen here, how did he take on the predatory press?

Well, first, we need to recognize that the media treatment of the debate WILL be wildly unfair, full stop. If Trump shows up and puts on pants, he will be applauded by the media, because they have the lowest imaginable bar where he is concerned and everything that would have been multiply-disqualifying for any other candidate makes them just shrug and find a way to make excuses for him. So yes, he will literally be congratulated if he shows up on September 10, because that is how the media works. See: three relentless weeks of bullying Biden out of the race after the bad debate, barely mentioning Trump's equally insane diatribes at the same debate, and now, when he's gone full-on demented and is raving about AI-generated crowds at Kamala's events? Nary a peep. Lol.

However, the main narrative that's emerging from the Harris takeover is that voters and the media are miles apart on where they actually see this race going, and without the media's favorite chew toy of Biden's shortcomings, it has become increasingly difficult to avoid focusing on Trump's flaws, even tangentially. See the mainstream media reporters whining constantly that Harris hasn't given them a press conference and congratulating Trump for lying to them nonstop for an hour; they simply have no frame of reference that's remotely useful, because they are so beholden to making Trump look like a normal candidate and focusing on Harris's "flaws" as if they are remotely comparable to his. But at the same time, there has been a far heightened level of pushback on this BS manipulation, and everybody can see through it, precisely because the media and/or the right-wing smear machine has tried this so many times before and their tactics are now completely transparent. Ordinary voters don't give a shit whether Harris WiLl tAkE qUesTioNs fRoM tHe mEdiA; they're too busy flooding her campaign with donations, attending her rallies, signing up for volunteer shifts, and so forth. In fact, the reason the media is trying SO HARD to kill her momentum is because they, like Trump, rely on doing so. The more they try and don't succeed, the more panicked they'll get. We have to prepare for that, and we have to have her back.

That said, we should recall that Harris easily crushed Pence in their debate in 2020, and Pence was actually halfway presentable at it compared to Trump (which is a low bar, but still). The way Trump "wins" is that he just repeats a lot of lies forcefully and over and over, which Biden was ill-prepared to counter because he has a far more deliberate and decisive speaking style (related to stutter/speech difficulties, temperament as a politician, etc). Everything that I have seen from the Harris campaign in terms of communication so far, however, has been the exact kind of clapback that makes Trump look stupid and which shows that they are very attuned to the kind of strategies that work against that nonsensical bullying Gish gallop. Therefore, I have to trust that they have INTENSIVELY studied what went wrong with Biden/Trump in June, and also empowered Kamala to do what she does in her fashion and which has been extremely successful thus far at knocking down Trump's BS. Also, she's just a better and more fluent communicator than Biden, she looks and sounds more energetic, and those stupid aesthetic Vibes are half of the battle when it comes to convincing the public.

Also, we should recognize that Trump looked deeply creepy on stage at the debates with HRC in 2016, and that was when he was downright sane compared to now. He stalked her, he stood behind her, he rolled his eyes, he bullied her, and people noticed that (he subsequently won the election, yes, but if nothing else, 2024 feels nothing like 2016). If he has to stand on stage with a black woman kicking his ass, after his appearance at the NABJ event in Chicago quickly became a touchstone for how badly he fucked it up, he is going to just look BAD, and when that's the case, people will immediately fit it into the existing narrative (that he's scared of Harris and deeply racist and unglued). You can also play your part in making sure it does. At least half of the Bidengate furor came from Democrats melting down and yelling about it afterward, and that led into the knives-out media coverage that spiraled for 3.5 weeks until Biden withdrew. We can, yknow, NOT DO THAT this time!

So: yeah. We have to be aware that yes, the media coverage of the debate will find absolutely every excuse to praise Trump and bash Harris, because that's just baked in. However, we can also understand that there's a wide-and-getting-wider CHASM between how ordinary voters see things right now and how the media is desperate to play it, and the more transparent they get, the more easily we are able to call it out. (See Lawrence O'Donnell's rant the other night.) We are going to have to keep doing that and not let up, but it's not going to go well for Trump either way and it's still an open question as to whether he even shows up after trying SO hard to dodge. It's not out of the question that he'll announce on September 4 that by Harris not showing up to the Fox debate she never agreed to and which exists only in his deluded mind, he doesn't have to do the same on September 10. He is a scared fucking orange chickenshit who KNOWS he's badly outmatched against Harris and whose entire campaign strategy at this point relies on lying low and trying not to make voters remember again how much they hate him, which is already backfiring. And with your help, we can make him MORE scared all the way to prison. Let's do it.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for breaking up with my boyfriend because of his older sister?

Title will not make sense without context. For simplicity, let's call my ex B (20) and his sister S (21 almost 22)

So I (20) used to date this guy B. We met through a college summer class and just immediately clicked. We bonded over shared favorite media and characters, career interests etc. A couple weeks later and we decide to start dating. It'd been going really well for about a year so far up until about a week or so ago.

B had mentioned his older sister a few times in passing, but never mentioned her name. He'd only refer to her as "my sister" and she wasn't really brought up often, either. I sometimes asked stuff about having a sibling since I'm an only child, but for the most part she wasn't really a big deal. One day he tells me that she's turning 21 soon and that I should come to his family's to celebrate (they decided to celebrate earlier than her actual birthday since everyone's way too busy for the next month to do anything (jobs plus summer classes you get it)). I say yes, get all pumped up to meet his family (he's hyped them up a lot. Though he didn't mention his older sister, he'd talk about his parents and grandparents a lot) and the day comes and I realize that.. his older sister is one of my exes.

The moment we noticed each other was the most awkward minute I've ever had to endure in my entire life. He introduced me as his partner to her, and we both nodded at each other in greeting (at the time I also took it as a silent agreement to not say anything about our past relationship)

The party goes well, despite the awkwardness. We were both good at pretending nothing was wrong (this will come back in a moment) so the night passed well and we head back to my apartment. The next day I tell him the truth: that his older sister is one of my exes, and that it was a nasty breakup. I'm talking throwing glass kind of breakup (moreso her throwing glass at me). We were both drunk when it happened and things escalated VERY quickly, and afterwards we both went completely no contact. He says he believes me, and we'll just not visit his parent's place when she's there, but unfortunately she literally lives there, so visits would be rare. This sucks for a couple of reasons. 1 He's a huge mommy's/daddy's boy and loves his parents/gparents to death, and 2 if we ever wanted to have any big moment in our lives like marriage, kids etc she'd have to be there, and I just generally wasn't comfortable with that. He says there's nothing he can really do about that and we both sorta get quiet for a bit before he excuses himself to go back to his place, telling me to think about it a bit more. I do, and the next day I call him to break up with him (low to breakup over the phone, I know) and i can hear him start to get a bit choked up before we hang up.

It's been about a week since then and although I'm confident I never want to see her in my life again, I miss my boyfriend and feel awful for putting him through this. But I know there's feasibly no way for us to be together while avoiding his sister for the rest of our lives. So AITA for breaking up with him? Is there something I could've done different?

[silverhypnos]

Sorry, a little rant

This is a tiny bit of a rant, but I struggle so hard to be cordial with other HxH fans or fans of media in general who constantly need a "moral" reason to dislike or like any characters.

I dislike Hisoka because his pedophilic nature makes me uncomfortable and on principle, I just don't like pedo characters. But sometimes I dislike characters for non-moral reasons. And I rarely like a character for moral reasons. And I don't always feel like needing to justify that.

But I would meet people who treat disliking a character as a performative way to brand themselves as a moral person. Not only do they need a moral reason, but they get so angry when other people like morally corrupt characters. They would vocalize and question the morality of a person just for liking villains. And the worst part about it is that they are so flaky and hypocritical about it. I have met a person who went out of their way to shit on me for liking the spiders because "They are mass murderers" but they seem to love Chimera Ants. As if they didn't kill a bunch of people... "Killing innocent people is wrong" except it's okay when Killua did it.

The "excuse" is that he is a child from an abusive household, but something tells me if Killua was introduced as an adult, you'd have a different excuse. Now I'm not saying liking Killua is bad, he's a well-written character, and I want him to grow up happy like the rest of ya. Obviously, the reason why you don't care that Killua killed those randos for nothing is because they are nameless randos. Had those two been a person that the viewer had time to care about, some of you might care. When you care about a character, if a character hurts them, you might hate that character. Likewise, when your favorite character hurt someone, out comes with all of the excuses. This is nothing new, every fandom is like this. I don't have an issue with people not liking the Spiders. (I only have a pet peeve when they do the blame game of blaming Chrollo for all of the Spider's crime but not the whole Spiders.) I get that most people who hate the spiders are a big Kurapika fan. I also like Kurapika a lot, but I also like Spiders a lot too. So I just choose to suffer. Likewise, if you project yourself onto characters, you are more likely to defend that character's actions. When you project a person you don't like onto a character, you are more likely to hate that character to an absurd degree. You're going to headcanon that character in the worst way possible, even if they aren't guilty of the thing you've projected them to be. I can't speak for everyone, but I like well-written villains, and I don't believe in justifying a villain's actions. I like to see a villain develop, and I like to see how the author handles the villain's downfall. I don't like characters to performatively display my moral standings. I don't want to argue with people about why it's okay for me to like villains. But a lot of people who love to show off how moral they are through the media they watch instead of like, ya know, donating to causes, working at facilities that aid the homeless, etc... (And yes, not to humble brag but I've done those things) Some of y'all can be so difficult to be cordial with. It's one thing if the person started to directly harass you first, but y'all don't need to constantly seek out people you don't like just to start an argument on the internet. Ignore the type of fans you don't like, not every disagreement has to be some dick-measuring moral competition. It would be healthier for your headspace too, constantly being angry isn't going to do you any good. Take care of your health.

[stripedstarsblueflags]

Am i the only one who's kinda insulted colapinto immediately insults logan after he crashs the car or am i reading to much into it like?????? Why are you insulting the guy who was so nice to you? And if ur not insulting him then why are you joking abouy his crashes like there funny????

Here’s what I have to say about Franco:

I definitely spent too much time on this, but receiving this ask absolutely BEWILDERED me so I went on an internet spiral to find what on earth it could be referring to before I found it. X, Instagram, Williams App, Motorsport.com. I looked everywhere for any sort of comment or criticism that could be called an “insult” from Franco and he hasn’t made any sort of statement, on socials or interviews, about Logan at all. Which, considering the media/PR hellscape Williams has now roped him into, is definitely for the best.

What I think you meant– I think– was Franco’s radio message right after he hit the barrier. An apology. “Sorry about that, guys.” Now this is where I guarantee you, you are reading too far into it. Drivers are well aware of the consequences of damaging their cars, especially at the beginning of a race weekend. Especially when the whole world is watching with as much ridicule and scrutiny as Williams is receiving now. They know how much the damage costs. They know their teams don’t have bottomless resources. They know that they’re not the ones who are going to have hours or days worth of nonstop work to do to clean up their mess.

Crashing is shameful. It’s embarrassing. It’s like throwing up on someone’s favorite shirt and then watching them hand wash it. Drivers apologize on the radio after crashing more often than not, even in different tones/wording. Logan did not invent dejection, he did not invent self-loathing apologies, he didn’t invent apologizing on the radio after a driver-error impact.

I’m a huge Logan Sargeant stan. The August 27th news hit me like a battering ram in the chest and I’m still in the process of catching my breath. I get that it’s so easy to have a natural, almost overeager resentment for his replacement. The fact that Franco’s media personality, the costumes they put on and stick to throughout their careers to make themselves likeable and recognizable, is so opposite from Logan. Cocky, confident, smooth-talker, upbeat.

But he isn’t in charge of his own image, even, none of them are. He’s walking on eggshells because he’s going to be met with backlash and hate from ex-Williams fans, Logan fans, people who think he can’t be good as a rookie, people who love to underestimate him. He doesn’t have an inch of room to make some kind of public image mistake. Also, he’s not even 25? I still consider that a kid. He’s a kid, he’s learning, he’s gonna be reckless and ambitious and trip over some hurdles trying to navigate the monstrous traveling circus of F1 for the brief time he has.

Also, speaking of mistakes– because Logan, the driver he’s replacing due to James Vowles’ erratic leadership, was famous for crashes and not much else– Franco knows that he can’t afford to show any similarity to that sort of pattern or else he’ll be finished. He’ll be a laughing stock, a mistake, a disappointment, another reason to shout, “Why would you do this?!” to Williams as a whole. Just like Alex, his performance on track has to do more than just carry them forward in the championship– they need something shiny and sparkly and impressive just to cover up the horseshit back in the garage. What happens to Franco if he fails to meet that standard?

He gets maybe one crash. One crash to burn. A single crash could be rookie error, overexcitement, getting used to a new track, any number of excusable mishaps. Anything else? He’s history. And before his second race out of his Formula 1 debut, he’s burned straight through it.

Just because he comes across as optimistic, proud of himself, excited, ready to race onscreen doesn’t mean that everything’s totally fine behind his yes. He’s under enormous pressure. Monumental stakes are weighing on his performance as an F2 rookie, as an F1 rookie, in someone else’s car, for the last third of an already-in-progress season. This could be his only chance to make an impact, to show his talent. And Williams have made that as difficult as it could be for him. Which they’re good at.

Just because Franco is performing better than Logan doesn’t mean he’s a participant in the insidious nightmare that is Williams management right now. He’s just a young driver they could have thrown into the wrong car at the wrong time. Sound familiar?

tl;dr I will defend Franco Colapinto as a temporary Williams driver and support Logan Sargeant as a survivor of abuse and those two things can exist at the same time

[undercoveravenger]

The Flower Patch

Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “Okay so since you are doing red white and royal blue can you do an Alex x male reader. He doesn’t have the best family so he’s always working at the florist shop And photography business. Alex being the amazing boyfriend he is starting to notice and just sets up something cute or just wraps him in his arms asking what’s wrong. (Also I don’t know if you remember but I requested that Hamish duke and sad reader request and I don’t think I thank you enough because I still read it sometimes. Long way of saying love your work and what you do)

A/N: Okay, your ask was so sweet I almost died. This dynamic ended up being so fun though! I loved this ask (and your last one too!) so if you’ve got anymore, feel free to send them my way. Glad my writing can make a difference for you ♥️

—--

In the year and a half since Alex and you had started dating, he’d quickly learned that you tended to hide out at the flower shop you worked at when something was wrong. The bright colors and sweet smelling flowers had always helped lift your spirits in a way that nothing else seemed to, so when he hadn’t heard from you in the past two days, he had a strong suspicion of where he’d find you.

Sure enough, he’s able to spot the back of your head over one of the rows of potted tulips as he makes his way into The Flower Patch. You’re slightly crouched, the sleek black camera in your hands directed at a bundle of roses, lilies, and babies’ breath in a crystal vase, clearly preparing to take another of the photos that decorate the shop’s website and social media.

“Excuse me, sir,” Alex calls out, a smile tugging at his lips as he stops to watch you, “Can you point me toward the love of my life?” He tries (and fails) not to snicker as you jump, startled by your boyfriend’s appearance.

“Not funny,” you say, but Alex can still pick out the slight grin twisting at the corner of your mouth. 

Alex hums, moving to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “A little funny,” he corrects, setting his chin on your shoulder and watching you work. He’d always been amazed at the way you were able to capture a moment with your camera, to frame your subject perfectly in order to freeze time. You were able to capture lighting and highlight textures in a way he’s never seen from other photographers, to make him feel like he could reach through the frame and touch the things you photograph. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened or are we just going to pretend you’re working on your day off just for fun?”

Alex can feel the way you tense against him, shoulders stiffening and knuckles paling as you clutch tighter to your camera. 

“Not sure what you mean,” you say and Alex knows you well enough to know what must’ve happened.

“Right, you were meant to be working today all along, huh?” He knows you weren’t. You always have Wednesdays off- that’s why they’d become date nights. So for you to be working today means that something must’ve happened that made you want to get out of the house and work was the easiest excuse. He knows you well enough to know that you don’t want to think about what must’ve happened if you’re dodging his questions the way you are. “Well, how would you feel about coming over after your shift? My mom and dad are going to be stuck working late, but you and I can take over the theater and have a movie night if you want? I’ve got all your favorite snacks?” Alex can’t help but smile as you relax back into him again, his heart warming at the pleased little sigh that escapes you. “Yeah,” you say, setting your camera aside and turning in his arms to tuck your head against the side of his neck. “Yeah, that sounds good.” As much as Alex hates what you go through with your family, he’s happy to know that you feel safe with him. That your escape had extended past your camera and the beautiful blooms of The Flower Patch to include him.

[samd1o1]

Hey I don’t want to comment for real bc I’m sick of arguing with people on tumblr

I just wanted to say that in that post about deadpool and wolverine’s queerness, you are like 1000% in the right. Normally I don’t feel this strongly about stuff but anyone who thinks that Disney seriously and earnestly “delivered” on deadpool (and wolverine?) being queer is delusional

I mean, I love the movie. I’ve seen it twice and giggled my way through it both times. Obviously I enjoy the queer aspect of their relationship. But what you said about being able to be critical of your favorite media is important. The fact that people are arguing that there are no issues with the gay jokes in d&w but ACTUALLY it’s all indicative of a genuinely made film about two queer men is like actually SO crazy

Thank you, yes! The movie is absolutely amazing in the fact it's funny and well written. And yes I like the gay jokes, they're cheeky and enjoyable. But I think they'd be more enjoyable if any amount of Wade's (and also Logan's) queerness was taken seriously. Even just a little seriously.

I think the part that annoyed me about the movie most was Wade breaking up with Vanessa. Yeah it works for the movie and his character development. But at the same time I can't help but assume the reasoning for it was so queer people could go "hey they're both single, maybe just maybe Deadpool and Wolverine will get together?" No they won't this is Disney. He'll probably be back together with Vanessa eventually (even if it's not immediately).

Like I said on the comments of the post you're referring to; saying this is good queer rep is just an excuse so Disney (and Marvel) doesn't have to actually try to make good representation. The MCU has had many issues like this before. The single Loki bisexual conversation only for them to chicken out on the mlm ship they were hinting at in S2 promotions. Loki also being labeled as genderfluid in promo stuff just for him to be referred to as a male Loki and such. Characters who are canonically bisexual in the comics like Starlord showing absolutely zero hints to their queerness. Eternals is the only real representation I can think of, but it felt very one note and boring. Like that whole movie.

In conclusion Deadpool is a great movie but my biggest gripe is just that the queer aspect is not taking seriously. As much as I love the Honda Odyssey scene, it would be cool if it wasn't just a weird mix of coding/bait. Queer coding is still a great writing tool. Using metaphors for queerness in fantasy can be fun. But the reason queer coding existed in the first place is because you weren't allowed to show any queer people on screen. But times have changed! You can show it, but Disney are cowards. The movie is also queerbaity as they set up things like Vanessa's break up only to start them almost back up again with Logan himself telling Wade to go for the girl. Not to mention all the promotional posters like Deadpool and Wolverine as Beauty And The Beast. Disneyland Deadpool is also being VERY heavy on the gay jokes, which makes me feel like they KNOW who their main target audience was gonna be with this movie, but they still need to cater to the movie dudebros as well. Maybe one day guys, maybe.

It's important to be critical of even your favorite media. If you weren't then it could never improve. Let your voices be heard! And to the people who think movies don't deserve such debate; why do you think that? So many people say that so they don't have to discuss representation in media but then turn around and rant about the comic accuracy. Also what do you think happens in a writers room? Criticism is important in media even to professionals. A movie is a group effort, many people had different ideas that eventually came together and made Deadpool 3. They also probably had many ideas that were shut down and not put in Deadpool 3 for various reasons. Some most likely being criticisms.

Ok I'm done ranting now. Deadpool 3, great movie, one of my favorites. But it would have benefited not only itself by being true to Wade and Logan letting them be their authentic queer selves; But it also would have benefited the queer community.

[jyndor]

spoilers for farha, which you all should watch but is very, very brutal even if it is not terribly graphic.

tw: infant murder, settler colonial violence. read with caution.

the scene where the one israeli genocider doesn't end up killing the infant is such a powerful scene for a number of reasons. but one aspect of it that sticks out to me is that when his commanding genocider tells him not to "waste a bullet" and he can't go through with curb stomping the fucking newborn to death, he ultimately condemns the baby to a crueler death - to starve to death, alone in the night, beside his family's bodies.

it is of course a crueler death, and I am sure the soldier is aware of what will become of that baby when he places the kerchief over his face and walks away. but this moment is not about the soldier being decent or kind at all, of course - if he was halfway decent he would die rather than kill that baby.

he doesn't care what will happen to that baby as long as he doesn't have to bear witness to it. to cover the baby's face is to cover his eyes to the cruelty of his and by extension israel's actions. it makes him uncomfortable to think of curb stomping a baby to death, but not of starving him. of leaving him alone and screaming.

he doesn't even consider for a second disobeying the order and shooting the baby, putting him out of his misery - as horrific as that would be.

because it isn't about the baby for him - it is about HIS comfort. he's comfortable with ethnic cleansing, he's comfortable with terrorizing a woman who has just given birth and her family, it is not at all about shame or horror or a tiny spot of decency in him. he's just not comfortable with having to step on a baby and kill him.

he is more comfortable with letting that baby starve out of sight than he is taking direct action against him.

this is the liberal zionist or frankly the liberal colonizer even beyond zionism - because it's all connected. as long as they do not have to be the ones to crush the infant to death under their boot, as long as they can shield their eyes from the brutality of their country, they'll take that option.

I think about israelis living so close to the gaza strip, living in relative security and having food and shelter and yes bomb shelters because THEY are citizens of a settler colonial state and people who are being colonized are going to resist the violence of occupation.

I think about how generally they are so removed and detached from the brutality of what israel does to palestinians, and how after oct 7th, many people who considered themselves liberal zionists went completely apeshit racist and genocidal, and this is according to actual peace activists in israel, actual anti-zionists in israel, actual leftists in israel. the ones who have refused to cover their eyes to the realities of the occupation and the genocide.

you see it on social media - people who consider themselves non-zionists or liberal zionists have been laughing at hateful genocidal zionist memes, and centering their own pain, and it reminds me of how liberals in the united states will do ANYTHING not to witness the horrors of us imperialism when it threatens their comfort.

this is not unique to zionists, this is a symptom of settler colonialism. I do believe that sometimes liberals can do better than that, but they often end up useless as allies to resistance, actual resistance, when it fucking matters the most.

so many liberal americans will continue to watch their favorite racist shows or buy disposable vapes or support joe biden, and they'll make all kinds of excuses about why they have to but the truth is this: they value their comfort more than they care about genocide.

I mean frankly even I do to some extent. I pay my taxes. I'm not gonna go to prison on tax evasion because I want to make a point about genocide. I wish I had the courage of my convictions to that level but I don't. I know that I would never go serve in the military even if it was conscription, I'd go to jail for that but that's never been a real concern for me here.

meanwhile, there are people who do not have the comfort to lose. in the film, farha does not have the privilege to choose comfort. she can close her eyes, she can look away, but she hears the baby cry and cry and cry until the baby passes away. she has no choice.

in choosing his own comfort, the soldier unknowingly condemns a child to witness trauma he can choose to ignore. now farha, a 14 year old girl, has to live with not being able to free herself from her sanctuary/prison to save the baby.

a 14 year old girl injures herself to save a baby, but a grown man covers a baby's face and lets it starve so he can live with himself. he still murdered that baby, but he'll tell himself that he didn't.

people often say they know what they'd have done if they'd lived during the holocaust or other atrocities. but honestly these same people don't do shit now. they cover their eyes.

if you're going to accept the deaths of innocent people, at least say that your comfort, your security, matters more to you than their lives.

because it clearly does.

anyway go watch farha on netflix.

[everythingne]

out of the woods, 5 (ls2)

With clear favoritism boosting all of Ferrari's tactics, Dhanishka makes a difficult decision after a crash causes her to see the true colors of her team. Logan sweeps in to save the day.

series masterlist

warnings/notes: mistreatment of Dhanishka by Ferrari, misogyny, migraines, car accidents with very minor injuries, dhanishka and logan kinda being toxic for eachother? yes this is rewritten !

(ch4) (ch6)

-

The little room they've shoved us all into for media is more crowded than I want it to be. The Chinese GP was off to a rocky start already, with downpour rains all day on Thursday and distant thunderstorms for all of Friday and Saturday, supposedly. Ducking through the media area, I'm looking for Charles, turned in on myself even in the room full of flashing lights as I try to hide from the world. I want nothing to do with media today. I know it's going to be a shit show, and my stomach churns and knots. I manage to hide pretty well, biting my tongue and moving as quickly and as silently as possible until I pop my head up to look. Charles had said he was in the back, but when I look around I can't spot his red shirt anywhere.

I'm about to leave, planning to head back to the garage until I have to come out for media, but I make solid eye contact with Logan across the room. A weird wave of calm hits me, before its also sprinkled with anxiety.

We haven't spoke since he kicked me out, and his face contorts somewhere between what I know to be his normal happy expression and his general frustrated expression.

I can't even read his expressions anymore.

I swallow my pride and smile at him, knowing the cameras are on me. I note his smile isn't full, he does still return one, which at least tells me he'll be normal around media. Which is still my biggest concern even with this new sort of tugging feeling in my heart, which I assume is from when he nestled himself in there and fancied himself a home. Even as he waves me over, I hesitate to move, and I can tell he senses my apprehension. Excusing himself from Oscar and Alex's sides, he begins to cross the small, cramped room. I manage to slip through a wall of reporters surrounding Max (who I don't notice is next to Charles), I'm accidentally being shoved aside and nearly falling flat on my head before I'm grabbed and pulled into the firm protective hold of Logan. Instinctively, his arm wraps tight around my waist as he brings me to his chest. My hands find his shoulders and slide across in a hug as he leans his head down to whisper,

"You look terrified, Isa." His hand squeezes my waist and leaves the skin tingly, as if he's shocked it with little electrodes hidden in his fingertips. All his lingering touches feel like that, they have since I was seventeen.

"I am." I say back to him as I pull back from the hug just enough for us to look at eachother, "It's first media day after we announced this whole... thing."

Logan nods and then sighs, but what I don't expect is for him to take me tight by the skin just above my elbows and into a quiet, dark corner. I also pretend I don't see Oscar cover up for our sudden disappearance from the media pen.

"What are we doing, Dhanishka?" He hisses through his teeth, trapping me in the corner. He's doing it to keep media from seeing our faces if they spot us through the tiny crowd behind Logan's back. But he's also doing it to pressure me into answering him, or at least it feels like that.

"What do you mean?" I ask, not exactly knowing what he's looking for me to say.

"With us." He emphasizes, "We never exactly spoke about it. And you look at me one way and treat me another, so figure out right now how you want this to go."

I pause, a deep feeling in my gut I can't name making its home there as I blink up at my ex-boyfriend now kinda-boyfriend.

"We go along with the PR plans." I say softly and he nods, stepping back to just huff, and run his hand through his hair before letting it fall to his side as he says, "This is probably the worst possible time to bring that up, but I'm sorry for just assuming you wanted to..."

He trails off and before he can finish, I shake my head softly and give him the tiniest reassuring smile I can muster. He quiets at the soft expression on my face as I bring one hand squeeze his forearm;

"No, Logan. I should've told you the truth of what I wanted out of this from from the beginning. It was wrong of me to string you along like that," and I hesitate before adding in a softer voice, "I don't regret it, if you're scared about that, too."

He seems taken aback by my apology, but before we can say more, Logan's manager Astrid comes up to us and smiles in the most fake way I've ever seen in my life.

"Oh good! You two, okay listen," She snaps at me to get my attention and I don't hide the obvious distaste for her attitude I have as she keeps talking, "you guys are acting super awkward and I know you aren't actors but we need to keep selling this to help PR, okay? Logan, be a bit touchier, Dhanishka, smile. You both have images to uphold!"

When she waves us over to media, everything just feels strained. We would've gotten somewhere without the rude interruption from his manager. Logan does listen though, and settles his hand on my lower back to guide me into the media area where a few different drivers are already being interviewed.

When we go to split off to do our interviews, he plants a soft kiss to the side of my head and fixes one of my necklaces thats twisted before squeezing my hand three times.

He did that when we were still kids.

I'm lucky Ophelia is calling me over to do the interview, so I can distract myself from the tears threatening to fall over my waterline. Luckily, for now, I'm out of the grabbing range of asshole reporters and the people who only want a headline.

"Danny..!" Ophelia sings, handing me a microphone labeled 'VOGUE' as she steps in, ever so elegantly, next to me.

"Hi, Ophie." I smile, leaning in to give her a tight hug. Luckily during media I didn't have to wear my team uniform, so I had been dressed to the nines in the white and red Ferrari dress-jacket-thing, with the little cape thing on the back. I knew I looked good, which is why I assumed Ophelia had grabbed me before she went off to find Lewis.

"Since we last spoke, quite a bit has happened, but lets talk about this outfit?"

"So, this is Ferrari, of course. I cannot remember the name of the jacket for the life of me. It's a white leather trench coat with a red silk trim, Ferrari's black boots with, of course, the red trim, and a black Ferrari purse. I am completely Ferrari today."

"You look stunning, the red of the Ferrari suits has always looked good on your but this pop? Stunning, brilliant, we love to see it."

We talk a bit more about fashion, and her interview is a bit longer than I'm expecting. I don't wanna leave the safety of her interview, but eventually I'm pulled away and into the mass of the boring, normal interviews.

I wanted to talk more about why Ferrari was using this specific shade of red, not why my rear wing continuously failed while Charles' was always fine. I chalked it up to me driving about a hundred times more aggressively than Charles.

After an hour of normal interviews, it's Sky News who comes to be the kicker. It's some white man reporter I don’t recognize. Unfortunately not Jenson today. When I feel someone staring at me while I greet myself to the reporter, I turn to their gaze and spot Logan. He's far down the pen on my left side and he's staring. When we make eye contact, he makes a foul face at the reporter before he's snagged by another reporter. I don't have time to try and ask further. I miss the reporter introducing himself but don’t miss the way Charles, on my right, comes behind me and roughly grips my wrist.

“Any specific reason you were spotted in London last weekend?” The man asks me. His grip is tightly holding the orange taped microphone towards me and I shrug with a tiny smile. I find myself awkwardly rocking from side to side out of habit. Something in my head tripping every red alarm.

“Just making some visits to my friends, is all. I also had some media responsibilities.” I reply calmly and catch Logan’s eye again. This time, my look lingers long enough to see him try to mouth something to me before the reporter talking pulls me away again.

“A certain driver seems to have caught your eye, though, are we correct to assume there’s some heat between you and a certain Williams driver?” The man smiles almost predatory. Immediately after, Charles taps the back of my arm to signal me to move back as he eyes the reporter. If looks could kill, we'd have a tag team homicide between him and Logan. So, I move back. My eyes study the mans face, the hooded eyes, the slightly narrower left eye. The crooked nose, the wobbly smile. It rings of Trident. Screams it in my face. I can't help but let a soft laugh tumble out of my lips at the realization. It's fucking Anthony Davis. That's why both Logan and Charles have stopped to watch.

“Thought my instagram post was pretty clear,” I chime once I find my footing and push my emotions back, “maybe not as clear as the literal blackmailing you did to Logan. But I'm sure that Williams' lawyers will be in contact soon enough."

My PR agent is gonna just quit one of these days due to my mouth. But I had to say what I needed to. I keep my ice cold glare on Anthony, who tries to stammer out some excuse about the blackmail and I scoff.

"Sorry your brother is too much of a liar to be able to dirty my name. So much so that he sent his baby brother to do his dirty work." I snip and Charles is staring like I’ve just cursed this man out.

I think I can hear Lando laughing somewhere off to the side.

"Dhanishka." Charles hisses through his teeth. Anthony tries to provoke me one more time, and then I point a finger in Anthony's face with a snarl as I step closer.

“We’re done with you and your bullshit, Davis. I hope you have a terrible day. Make sure to tell David I said hi, just to remind him of the woman who took his career from him.” I grin forcibly, watching as Anthony’s face grows in anger. Charles steps between us, asking Anthony to leave and I allow myself a reprieve here to look around. Logan gives me a little smile and an appreciative nod, which I return, before I’m being pulled away by PR.

-

Qualifying brings back Ferrari’s curse.

Charles tires go and he nearly crashes out right before the end and my back wing is broken by the time I’m done. With the challenges we faced, we both do qualify higher than expected which does make me feel a bit better.

After standing and talking about the car and strategy for way too long, I’m let loose to the solstice of my drivers room. The pristine and almost shockingly tidy room is a safe haven as most the chaos of this weekend and I allow myself to relax as I slowly get myself undone from the race.

I change and take my hair out of its now frizzy braid, taking the time to brush it as I stick my head under the sink faucet to wet my hair. I’m wringing it out as I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in!” I call, grabbing a towel to place over my shoulders as the door pops open and I’m greeted with the soon to be Norris’ couple.

I gawk, “How did you both get in here?”

“Charles owed me a favor for all the times I’ve snuck him into Red Bull.” Olivia shrugs as she pops her purse down next to me on the couch, “and Lando doesn’t like me walking the paddocks by myself anymore.”

“That fucking reporter.”

“Don’t.” Olivia points at Lando, who huffs, and she then crosses the room to sit next to me on the couch before Lando can snag the seat. Olivia continues to speak after pausing to sip her drink, “good take down of Anthony today, little debutante."

“Ah. Thank you.” I laugh softly, brushing my hair with the same red brush, eyes glancing over to Lando and Olivia as I try to keep my blush to a minimum. Olivia's soft compliment made my heart skip, as any praise did. It was hard to come by it in this sport and I was honestly happy it was Olivia who was supporting me like this.

“How’re you feeling? You did pretty good for a busted car. I saw how fucked that rear wing was when I was pulling in the pits after Q1.” Lando continues the conversation and I shrug, turning at Olivia's cue so she can start to braid my hair for me. It's weirdly like having my mom or sister do it, I hate how much it makes me miss home.

“It sucks I’m not higher. Wallahi, I'm so tired of this." I complain, rolling my eyes back as I try and keep myself calm. Frustration wouldn't get me anywhere here, "they’ve been harping on me all season about getting back to the level I was at in Bahrain. And they're acting as if every race since, I haven’t had terrible car issues! Sorry you guys fucked up my car!"

"Sounds like Ferrari, between this and the way Aakash speaks to you over the radios?" Olivia hums, "I think I've heard both Charles and Carlos say these same complaints over the years."

"Maybe talk to Charles about everything, he'd know Ferrari better than I would." Lando suggests, watching his fiance as she finishes off my braid. She then squeezes my shoulders and pulls me back to rest on her chest as she lazily wraps her arms around me. Lando kicking his legs up to rest on my lap as he yawns into the back of his hand.

"I have been, he's been a huge help, but it's still ridiculous." I complain, smushed against Olivia's Red Bull tee as I close my eyes to fight off the stress migraine forming.

"The car or the radio?" Olivia asks and I laugh,

"Both." I declare and she nods in agreement. I complain for a bit longer, Olivia convincing me to talk to Charles about my frustrations once again. But by the time I've gone off to find him, I notice his attention being held by Fred and some of the engineers. Even when I try to get him away, he's continuously pulled back with soft sorry's thrown over his red clad shoulders.

After an hour of trying and failing, I just go home. It's not worth my energy.

I go to bed that night with a migraine, but I'm not sick, nor do I feel stressed. The migraine comes from nowhere, I barely have enough time to get meds in me and get myself tucked in my blankets before it gets worse. I barely stomach my dinner, and it takes ages for me to finally fall asleep.

The next day I nearly crash twice when my tires are too worn. I keep asking, but they won't box me. After the race, I attend all my meetings, and while they celebrate another Charles podium, I can't help but sulk in my drivers room after giving Charles a tight hug in celebration. Sure, I finished a lucky P9 for my car issues... but I was fighting with Max in P2 when my rear tires decided they hated me.

I asked so many times to be boxed. It’s not the first time they've refused to pull me into the pits, but today was the most dangerous. I had no grip, I had nothing but prayers and maybe a bit of luck because I didn't crash out.

And when Aakash is not supportive over the radio, maybe I lose my cool, and maybe that’s what causes half the garage to give me the cold shoulder as I get out of the car. I do what’s needed, barely speak, don’t smile, and then retreat to my room with the hope of my anger dissipating.

When my frustrations don't wear off, even after I snag the treadmill to sprint until my legs are jello, I go to try and find Charles for our little private post-race debrief. I need him in this moment like a fish needs water. The debriefs we have been having being the only thing keeping me from losing my mind in Ferrari. I spot him in the garage. He's being held captive by the team. They engross themselves in deep plans for his racing, smiling and waving hands in excitement. I notice no one had come to grab me. I dart my eyes around and swallow the sick feeling in my gut. Why wasn't I grabbed for a team meeting? Had they forgotten me?

"What about Dhanishka?" Charles asks, eyes flickering over to meet mine and I feel the pull to enter the conversation. I'm ready to make my way over, assuming it was a misunderstanding, until Fred shakes his head and squeezes his golden boys shoulder. The way he does it is so paternal. It almost makes me feel sick.

"Dhanishka comes second to you, Charles. You are more important than some girl. We'll use her to help you..."

Fred's voice fades out to a ringing in my ears. I feel my hands immediately start shaking. I feel myself becoming a mix of rage and embarrassment -- my face burns hotter than prodded embers.

More important than some girl?

How could I have been so stupid? All this time I've been trying to convince myself Ferrari wasn't Trident and here they are, planning behind my back. But to ass insult to injury, it's not for my benefit. In this moment, I am Viscaal, and I understand it now.

They've been straight up gaslighting me.

And when Charles snaps his head up to meet my eyes after a moment, I've already turned to rush down the hall. Tears of betrayal prick in my eyes at my own stupidity, that I felt like I belonged in this red building. Sure, it was something off hand, maybe he didn't mean it the way he said it due to poor translation from language to language, but it was enough to frustrate me to tears.

Would I ever escape teams like this?

I retire to my hotel room early that night. As soon as I can. All I wanna do is party, but to save myself the potential breakdown, I choose not to join anyone in the festivities. My mistake is thinking if I ignore the mass amounts of messages blowing up my phone, no one will search for further answers. Everyone, even drivers like Magnussen, knew I loved a good post race party.

I was the life of the party next to Lando after all.

As soon as I get back, still in all my racing gear save for the helmet, I drop my bag at the door, kick off my shoes, and crawl into bed. I ignore the world, let the sun set into black skies as I stay tucked in my bed. I can't bring myself to move, to change, to shower, to even eat. There's a mix of anxiety, fear, and disappointment in myself wrecking havoc in my gut and genuine pain in my body keeping me in the plush blankets.

My parents call to congratulate me, I humor them with a tired smile and blame it on the time zones. I pretend I'm asleep when I see Anya tries to call me twice.

I can't lie to her. I know she could tell it was more.

I have to ignore Anya so my family will continue to think I'm doing fine. I can't worry them about me turning into the monster I had been after Trident again. If that even seems true, my dad will somehow find a way to pull me out of F1 and bring me home immediately. I try to suppress it, but I can feel that monster clawing at the restraints. I've held it in for so long this season, making it all the way to China's GP, but I know one more thing might make me say fuck it and let myself grow cold again.

Half awake, several hours later, not that I would know the time, someone knocking at the door makes me jump. I ignore it, even as the muffled voices call for me and ask if I'm alright. They all sound like strangers due to how sleepy I am, refusing to move from my warmth, I just stay still. Laying curled up, tucked up to my chin in blankets, until someone scans a card in the door and begins to let themselves in. I jump, preparing to throw my phone in defense, when it's Danny who pops his head in.

"Just checking to see if you're alive, mini-me." He smiles, opening the door a bit more so from my vantage on the bed, I can see Charles and Logan behind him. I know they all see I'm still wearing everything I had on at the track, and I see remorse in Charles' eyes when he sees my state, but I shake it off.

"I have a bad migraine, but I'm alive." I say, choosing for that to be the reason as to why I was laying in the dark. Not because I felt too tired to get up to turn the light on. Or that I felt my seventeen year old rage returning.

"Need anything?" Logan asks, feather soft, before the others can. I hate how I can see him noticing all my soft lines turning hard. His eyes trace my face, across my shoulders and then to the way my body lumps under the blankets. I just sit there. Then I shrug when I realize they're expecting an answer.

"Just some sleep. I'll see you guys next race weekend." I wave them off, fake yawning into the back of my hand. Never a fool to my lies, Logan steps into the door frame. Just... welcoming himself in. I don't argue, though something tells me I wouldn't win anyway. Danny and Charles watch cautiously as Logan crosses the room to sit on the edge of my bed, pressing his hand to my temple.

"You're not sick." He murmurs, "just a stress migraine this time, then?"

"You--huh?" I blink and Logan smiles party, a soft blush on his cheeks only illuminated by the light in the hallway.

"You always get migraines when you're stressed or when you've got a fever, Isa." He squeezes my wrist, watching my face carefully, "If you don't feel hot when you have a migraine, it's just stress."

“It’s just… it’s been a rough weekend and I kinda snapped after the race ‘cause this migraine won’t go away.” I lie half now, Logan seems to buy it a bit more as he leans forward and gently pulls some of my stray hairs back behind my ears—settling them how he knows I like it.

“You did really well for all the issues you were having. Can’t beat yourself up over something you can’t control, Danny.” Daniel says from the doorway where he and Charles lean, I squint when I look towards them in the light and see while Danny looks full of concern—Charles looks sick.

“I know. It’s just been a hard adjustment.” I shrug and Logan nods.

“Adjustings a bitch.” he says and I laugh softly as he frowns, "have you taken meds?"

"Wasn't able to get up and grab them before the migraine kicked in." I say and Charles moves immediately, picking up my back pack and settling it on the edge of the bed while he roots through the side pocket to find my medication bottles. Once found, he hands them to Logan, who hands them to me while Daniel roots through the kitchenette for a water bottle.

"You guys don't have to do this." I say softly as Daniel tosses a bottle to Logan, who cracks it open and hands it to me.

"We do it because we care, not because we have to." Charles sits next to me as I take the medication and Daniel nods, sitting at the foot of the bed while Logan leans on the wall to my side.

"Thank you." I hum and then spend the next five minutes convincing Daniel and Charles to leave, and they go, with the promise that Logan will stay while I shower and get changed into comfy clothes because, according to Daniel,

"Logan's the only guy who really should be seeing that."

With a shove from Charles out the door, Daniel bids goobye and Charles follows suit. I go to get up and before I can, Logan gently sets me down.

"Relax. I'll get everything in order for you." He says softly, then pauses and turns, "they're still as bad as they were with Tri-- Sorry, F2?"

I note Logan cuts himself off and adjusts his words, as if trying to keep Trident a distant memory so I didn't have to think about those days anymore.

Or so he doesn't have to bring up how he still doesn't believe me about back then.

I nod.

Logan opens my suitcase, dodging the underwear and bras, and finds a Ferrari team shirt and a pair of baggy sweats for me. He dissapears into the bathroom and I hear the shower running while he comes back out to grab my hair stuff from the same little bag I've always kept it in before he dissapears again. The medication is kicking in, so a bit of the big edge of the migraine is starting to fade.

Logan comes to my side, laying a cold compress across my forehead as he hums, "Do you have the magnesium and the lavender still?"

"Magnesium I already took with my Maxalt. Lavender is over here." I point to the bedside table and he nods once he spots it, then asks,

"How about an ice cap?"

"In the freezer."

"Other meds?"

"Triphala churan is in my bag, I have the other homeopathy stuff with it."

Logan nods once more, using one of my hands to keep the towel in place for a few moments while he moves to fully draw the curtains closed and he clicks off all the ambiant lighting save for one small orangey lamp off to the far side of the room just so we can see.

"Come on, lets get you up. Get those tense muscles relaxed and get you cleaned up."

It shocks me how much Logan remembers from my migraine attacks, and though this is the acute point where I'm the worst, I find it easier to manage with him at my side.

He brings me into the bathroom, where he's set everything out. Even my skincare is set next to the sink.

"I'll be in the bedroom." He says from the doorway, "I'll leave the door cracked so you have a bit of light but I promise I'm not peeking."

His playful grin makes me tiredly smile as I thank him as he leaves, and I turn to feel the water. It's the perfect temperature. If I didn't already have a searing headache, I might've started crying. I take the time to wash my hair and body, lavender filling the room. It was what was in most of my soaps, considering it helped my headache flare-ups and migraines. I swear I hear Logan open and close the door to the room, but chalk it up to the sound of my headache ringing in my ears.

When I get out of the shower, I dry off and change as quickly as possible, hoping to be able to get out of the bathroom before standing too long made my migraine flare. I manage to do my skincare, which is a bonus, and as I step into the bedroom I smell some sort of food.

Logan is doing something in the kitchenette as so I stumble over and pop my chin on his shoulder to see him making up two little salmon and rice bowls he must've gotten from carry out.

"Feeling better?" He hums softly and I shrug, closing my eyes and sighing heavily. I feel his hesitation, before an arm snakes around my waist and pulls me close to him.

"Salmon is supposed to help with migraines so I got these bowls from this place Zhou recommended nearby." Logan says, dropping his shoulder under mine so he can lift me up. He carries me over to the bed and sets me down, allowing me to tuck myself in while he brings over the food and sits across from me.

"if my head didn't hurt so much I'd have a genuine thank you coming out of my mouth." I say before taking a chomp of the food and rolling my eyes at the absolutely amazing taste. Logan just laughs softly, taking his own bite and opening his eyes wide.

"Oh shit, this is really good." He says once he swallows, then his eyes peek up to mine with a tiny grin as he says, "and definitely not on my meal plan."

With the mix of my medication, the excess of magnesium in my system, the lavender, and a warm shower followed by good food, my migraine has edged off enough that I can enjoy this moment. We mostly eat in silence, even if I can tell Logan is worried. So I cock my head at him and furrow my brow, making him sigh,

"What happened today? Other than the race, I know the race stuff, but that wouldn't be worrying you because car failures are out of your control." Logan explains, making sure to keep his voice abnormally soft, "was Aakash rude on the radios again? Did something happen in Ferrari?"

"I..." letting out a long sigh I lean back into the bed cushions, "Well, yeah, I snapped at Aakash today. Ferrari wouldn't box me and I almost crashed like... four separate times. Luckily Lando or McLaren noticed something was up and had him back off."

Logan nods, listening along to every word I say.

"And then he kinda pissed me off with him being dismissive on the radio, and then cursing at me on the damn radio? And the FIA hasn't done anything about it. And then..."

I sigh, rubbing the side of my head that hurts and Logan leans back to grab the lavender oil and he pops it open to tap some along the insides of my wrists and the sides of my neck without me even asking. So I keep talking.

"And then I heard Charles and Fred talking and... and Fred said 'You are more important than some girl' to Charles and they've just been using me like Trident used Viscaal. Which is just..." I stare Logan dead in the eyes as I grumble, "so ironic."

"Jesus." Logan says after a beat, running his hand through his hair as he sets down his half empty salmon bowl on the bed to adjust how he's seated, "Okay, so, Ferrari's treating you like shit which is why you have this migraine, right? Nothing else?"

"Nothing else." I clarify, "everything else has been absolutely wonderful."

The 'even you' goes unsaid.

Logan laughs softly and rhen groans, running his hand through his hair as he stares up at the ceiling, "I'm sorry Aakash is being a dick, thats not cool of him. And for Fred to say that? I really hope he just messed up his words in translation."

"God, me too." I sigh, finishing off the last of my bowl and leaning across Logan to set it on the bedside. He sets his bowl in mine and then turns to help me get under the blankets so I can finally get some well deserved rest.

I can sense the tension in Logan, and take his hand, rubbing it like a massage as I murmur, "I know mentioning Trident makes this odd bubble of tension between us, and I'm sorry, but god now that I know how Viscaal must've felt I really feel like shit. Why did they make him do that..? What was even the point of crashing into you? We had like four races left in the season, I could've made up the points."

"Trident wanted their Renault fame." He shrugs, looking over at me as I barely poke out of the blankets, just my hands out to hold his.

“It’s probably stupid to bring it back up but I need you to know I genuinely had nothing to do with Viscaal and Trident.” I say and Logan sighs, adjusting the way he’s seated as he says,

“Let’s not ruin a nice moment.”

We talk for so long Logan ends up sleeping in the same bed as me. His arm is wrapped loosely around my waist as my head is tucked in the crook of his neck. It’s safe. It’s definitely not platonic, but it’s safe, and it’s what I need.

--

-

So far it's been:

Bahrain, P3,

Saudi, P5,

Australia, P8,

Japan, P4,

China, P7,

and now it's Miami, where I land a solid P10 after Carlos clearly attempts to knock me off the track entirely and runs me into the gravel. I have to fight for my way back up from P20, and Carlos gets himself and Red Bull a 10 second penalty for aggressive driving. I'm impressed with the run some of the back drivers give me (especially Haas and Alpine) but I'm frustrated in general with my finish, I had been doing so well I could’ve easily ended top three, but here I am scoring a singular point.

What could've been more is fucked over when Carlos in P4 swings purposefully wide and damages my front wing, knocking me off the track but not enough for me to fail to recover. We both have to box to check damages, and are both cleared to continue. Everyone can feel my anger in Ferrari, so Aakash doesn’t even bother with saying anything on the radio other than what he needs to.

When we finish, I pull up and wait for podium in the drivers room. I always go to support Charles, and I can tell it means a lot to him when he spots me in the crowd and a big grin pokes across his face.

He walks back to the paddock with me, an arm slung over my shoulder as we talk about anything but the race, and when we get back he excuses himself from the team to pull me into his drivers room.

"You alright?" Charles asks immediately, sitting on his PT bed and wiping his face off with a towel.

"I'm fine, but it's just-- ugh, It's not fair!" I complain to Charles as I pace the length of the tiny drivers room, "I don't know what he has against me!"

"Danny," Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Be proud of what you did accomplish today. Seriously, a wonderful ten place overtake in only seven or so laps! You did amazing tonight, even with that fuck up from Carlos."

"You've been podium every race except for Australia." I snip, whipping around so hard my braid whacks the side of my face, "What I would do to be able to get up there... it's just annoying some drivers have made it their agenda to get me off the track! Carlos has no reason to nearly knock me off the track multiple times today!"

"Carlos is frustrated Ferrari dropped him for you. He'll pretend to be amicable over at Red Bull but he's fucking miserable." Charles sighs, "Ferrari's been no help either, they've yet to pay him the rest of his contract."

"Well how is that my fault, Charles!" I ask, groaning softly as I bury my head in my hands and come to sit next to him. It's not like I had told Ferrari to pick me, it had been a huge surprise they had. Charles has no answer and I just huff and lean back into the couch's plush surface and hide my face.

"I'm miserable too." I complain into the air, and it's frustrating to admit it. Charles can tell I don't wanna talk about it, so he just pulls me to his side and lets me curl up there. I feel like a child, but I feel safe.

—

Imola proves to be more difficult than I expected.

I had qualified really well, starting in P4 with Max, Charles, and Lando ahead of me. I was holding my own during the race, but Ferrari wasn't clearing me to pass Charles to try and take P2. Which is honestly the least of my worries right now. Aakash has been non-exsistant on the radio today, barely answering as per usual. I was basically using my own strategy at this point, pulling off of tips I had been given by Charles for this track.

And everything is surprisingly going well.

“Woah!” I shout, turning clear of whoever is in the Alpine that’s stuck half off the gravel, I make some sort of contact but not enough to deter me, “Alpine is down on the track, hit him, I think front damage? Rear wing is still locked in DRS.”

“Understood. Possible red flag coming up, use these last seconds to try and secure position.” Aakash says into my headset and I reply back with a soft ‘copy’ as I go to turn normally but for some reason I find that I whip to the side—under steering hard. Luckily, by pure coincidence, it keeps Oscar behind me and secures a place in P3 behind Charles. But the car isn’t driveable in this state, extremely dangerous, and my hands shake as I struggle to press down my radio button while holding the wheel steady.

“My steering is going out!” I curse, trying to stabilize myself—waiting for a red flag or a safety or something. Where the fuck is this safety car for the crash?

“How bad is it?” Aakash asks and I grit my teeth as I pull into the next turn. I curse softly, breaking a bit harder than I need to but managing somehow to keep Oscar behind me. I think he knows to stay back, that something is clearly wrong,

“Terrible, terrible! I can’t fight like this!” I snap, groaning as we move now to a straightaway. Oscar comes to my left and I steer towards, Aakash is calling that the flag is flying and the safety car has been deployed, but my eyes are on Oscar as he tries to maneuver around the other side but I cut him off again—or try to.

I steer too hard, clipping the front of Oscar’s tire on the slick of the still drying rain and spinning out. I feel the gravel as the car spins and then the world rocks when I hit the wall. I can't breathe for a moment, breath caught in my chest as I grip my seatbelts.

"Fuck." I whisper, groaning aloud as I try to blink my brain back into order. It's like someone's hit me in the gut. My first F1 crash, not a terrible one, but I hope I didn't also take Oscar out with me. As I catch my breath, I begin to adjust in my seat so I can get out. No one calls over the radio for a moment, and then,

"Dhanishka, is the car okay?"

"Fuck you." Is my reply as I grab my restraints and slowly unclick them. It's agony to move as I take out my steering wheel and pop it on the top of the car, hoisting myself up and nearly buckling back down into the car in pure pain. I manage to get myself out by the time medics arrive, they take me to medical to get checked and it's like I'm not even worried about. No one from Ferrari comes to check on me.

I limp myself back to the paddock, guarded by McLaren employees and followed closely by Lando and Olivia--who is softly scolding the FIA in her phone. Her voice thick in frustration over Ferrari's dismissal of me, her hand on my lower back supporting me as I walk. Once they get me back to Ferrari, Olivia forces her way in to escort me to my drivers room.

"I'm gonna get them fined for this bullshit." Olivia mutters, helping me sit down on my bed. I don't reply as she hands me a change of clothes and then gives me a soft hug, the painkillers slowly kicking in and making my dull pain fade, but my migraine fights through. Because of course it does. Once I feel a bit better, I wave her off to go home and she reluctantly does after ensuring someone will swing by my hotel later to check on me. It ends up being Logan, because of course it is.

And my migraine flares when Aakash knocks, entering my room. He's still got his headphones on, and I bite back about thirty insults as he crosses his arms.

"Feel better?"

"No." I huff, "and your precious car is fine."

"Listen, we're pushing you because we need you to be a better driver." The mechanic looks at me, arms taught over his chest and I wish it was still Ami in charge of my comms.

"I don't understand what you want from me!" I shout in frustration, my hand itching to throw my helmet across the room at him. I’m not violent, I never have been, I don’t understand why I’m so short of breath. It feels like the rage in my belly fights to be fed by all the oxygen in my lungs, my hands shaking as he slam my helmet down and punch the plush surface of my bedding.

“Dhanishka—“ Aakash tries and I whip around, pointing at him and watching his face fill with shock as I finally snap under the pressure of the weekend.

“No, listen to me! [You all love Charles, treat him like your golden child! He coughs and you all run to get medicine, but when I am out there and I am struggling and nearly dying, you do nothing! I fought with a broken wing and a fucked up steering wheel and what help did I get?!]” I snap at him in my mother tongue, watching his face fill with something like horror as I step even closer, “[None of you were there for me! You all went to coddle poor Charlie—he was fine! I was the one who suffered for you! Where is my help? You have all done this the whole season!]”

“[Charles was frustrated—]”

I cut Aakash off, screaming, “[And I nearly killed myself out there because none of you would help! Do you think I wasn’t also frustrated?!]”

“Listen, I—“

“Get the fuck out of my room! I’m not doing media! I’m going the fuck back to my hotel.” I snap and Aakash listens, quickly ducking out of the room. I rip off my suit and throw it in my bag and I get changed into my street clothing, only pausing to touch up my makeup. I pass by Charles coming back from podium with a cold shoulder and shove through the crowd to my car, digging out my keys and getting in. I sit there, hands tight on the wheel for a while, and my fingers start to go numb as I feel like my brain is shutting off and going into autopilot.

I just sit back and watch, like a movie goer, as the world around me fades in my mind.

--

taglist (open, and thank you to those on it now!)

@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

[ekwolfwriter-blog]

I just want to get this out but I am getting tired of people complaining about Live action Katara's lack of rage in the show. Especially because now, because it is missing from the LA show, there is a general trend of people that were annoyed with her behavior before now are defending it being part of her character. And before people think I am hating on them, no. I am not against people defending her rage, as I liked it a lot growing up and watching the show causally just as the next person. Katara was one of my favorite character of being a kind person while also taking names and kicking butt, she was that awesome. So more defense for her the better. Hell, I would say from just the interviews I have seen of Kiawentiio, she has - to me - the Katara sass and I am living for it.

What I am hating on is that the Live action Katara is getting ragged on for a lot of reasons - some valid, but other are (in my opinion) surface level stupid and not knowing of what actually might have been going on during the filming of season and probably the mindset that caused her character to be deflated. Because there is a lot to consider as to why it had to be condensed either for conveniences sake or - in my personal opinion - was done on purpose by two individuals that have a track records of curving that behavior in Katara to their desire.

Also: DON'T use this as an excuse to attack the actress! She is doing her best and giving her all! She is doing her job and any slander on her will be instantly blocked! I will not take any slander on her or any of the actors!

Also, mid spoilers so read at your own risk near the bottom

First thing we should consider: the amount of episodes. Yes, I am aware of the telling and not showing arguments that are being flown around. I get it. Normally, I am one of the biggest supporters that this show needed time to breath and let be to show than telling. If it had more time to breath, Katara's rage might have been more visible and we could have had more time for her arc to improve. And this is not to say that they could not have been able to do it, but I will say that this show NEEDED more than 8 episodes to be able to get as much in (To be clear, there are some shows that this works for - Amazon's Reacher and Legend of Zorro have short seasons and formatted for hour long content. But it makes sense for those shows because they are working within parameters of their medium and are newer (both are adaptions of older stuff but still) shows that can play around with the format better). For as ambitious as this project is, it has a lot to condense. At least that it is a show and not a movie, but still. Let's not forget that it could have been so much worst if it was a movie.

Now some people will say, "Well if they were good enough writers then they could have done more to show than tell," which fair. I will admit that there are infinite number of ways that they could handled some of the topics: such as Sokka's sexism and Katara's rage that everyone is missing. But with the landscape of media as is where you would be damned if you do damned if you don't if you so much as talk about some sensitive topic and you could be canceled for it instantly! Which leads me to the next point!

Second thing to consider: Multiple season renewal was never confirmed prior. Yes, we can all complain that the shows pacing was out of place. Yes, they cut some filler. And yes, it feels like we are getting too much of the world building through talking and now showing. But can you really blame them? To most people, if you saw the reaction of the cast before the news came out, you can see they were saddened by the fact they thought would not get a season 2. They changed their tune when season 2 and 3 was confirmed, and honestly happy for them. But again, that confirms to me that the writing had failed mostly because if they were never going to get their chance, might as well go all out. And with how easy shows can get picked up and canceled, I can see they needed to try and cram it in.

Which also plays into Katara's rage - they did not know if there was going to be a chance for her to grow and get bending abilities or go through her arc as steady as the animated. Again, I am not saying losing it was good, but that we need consider that if they were not going to get another season, they had to progress faster than usual. (Side note, while I like this show, Amazon's Hazbin Hotel has the same problem. We are steam rolling through what could be slow progression and change but can't slow because of episode constriction and no time to sit and allow the show to progress because it is so easy to drop the show for the studios, might as well end it on a note that at least can feel like it was it's own story.)

Speaking of studios, that would be my next point as well: studio and producer control. While I know directors can have a say in it, we should not forget about the studio that is allowing them to make this show in the first place and what they are asking for. As I keep saying, we don't know about what their restrictions are or if they can have more than a certain amount of episodes, and maybe that is a mandate of Netflix or something else, we as the audience don't know. We don't know what happens on set or behind the filming outside of glimpses and interviews, so for all we know, there was some changes to the script or teleplay to make it seem like they needed to cut Katara's rage to make her more meek. Which if this was the whole show, fine, that is a choice but not one I will have to like. But when watching the 3rd and 4th episodes, seeing Katara being a teenage girl and angry for once and even more open about her emotions was possible. Hell, it was the only times she was allowed to snap. And guess what people: it was because of the writing this time. That feminine rage you all wanted - while faint - was there. So clearly Netflix is not solely at fault - they have many mistakes but writing is not one of them.

But it is when you look who wrote what and where and what they were going for that - to me - puts EVERYTHING into place!

Final point: the original creators being brought on.

This might seem weird because one would think having the creators on the original show should be not as bad. The creators of the show is watching to make sure that the show is just right and that the characters feel the same or at least some of the story beats feel similar enough to enjoy. Why would them being on the set cause issues with the pacing and writing?

To a casual fan, yeah that makes sense. But to those that have been in the fandom, have see what they do post cannon to ALL of the characters - especially how they treat Katara in Legend of Korra - then anyone watching might have realized that that should have been a warning sign. Especially with how they would have wanted to depict the characters. And this is also the reason I think Katara's rage is gone: I think they wanted to make her like the comics version of her being a meek and demure girl that while caring was not getting as angry or as passionate about things because that would go against what Bryke wanted Katara to be in the show.

As I mentioned before, Katara's rage or at least genuine anger was only in for about two episodes out of the 8. And if you take out the 5th and 6th where she has been basically damseled with Sokka in the spirit world, that leaves on 4 more episodes to allow her to have her anger. Typically, one can thing, "Okay we can sprinkle it here or there in the other two and it should world". But all it takes is to see who was writing the episodes that truly not only hinder the world building of the show and breaks the rules of show don't tell or crammed it in so blatantly it feels like cringe and got rid of Katara being the one to free Aang because of her anger - was Bryke! They were the ones that were the head writers of the first episode and the 8th episode. The ones that had the most cramming down your throats dialogue, the clunky explaining of Aang's character out of now where and even curving Katara's rage or ability to be angry or snarky like she was in the show. Because Bryke wrote them, and also teleplayed a few - this being like adding notes and what the camera needs to do and how to frame scenes along side the dialogue. Meaning that they had some hand in making Live Action Katara this way.

If you notice in the episodes they didn't write: Omashu and the Cave of Two lovers - they were the only ones where Katara could be a bit more snappy and a bit more annoyed and vocal toward at least Sokka and Jet - not a lot but it was there. And oh would you look at that, the episode that they did not write had HEAVY hints for a certain firebender and waterbender being hinted at and color coded the lovers more vividly. And also, Katara getting to be empathetic while also not over explaining - which many always ragged on her for - where she could be human for once. Those episodes were the ones that they did not write and the story was somewhat better (Not better but I will take it over what we got prior)

And again, casual viewers might not know why this is a bad thing or probably wondering why I am against Bryke. But all it takes is looking at what they did to animated Katara that you all try to say "Was perfect as she was before" without considering what they did to her after the curtain fell. For any fan that has been following the show, you will find that most fans of Katara - the animated one -did not like what they did to her in the comics that continued their story and Legend of Korra, where she was a husk of a shell of her former self. And how she was all about "What Aang would have done, and what Aang did and oh how I missed Aang, he would know what to do". And yet, if she even showed any anger or negative emotions, she was painted as the bad person - easily look up Katara in the comics with a google search and you can see her being pushed around and flattened almost all the time when she is showing negative emotions that are genuine and not the funny mad in the show. Especially in the show as seen through this post, it did not always paint her anger in a natural thing for her or reinforced her angry as more comedic than actually something to consider as important until someone else stepped in to help her see it *cough* Zuko *cough*.

So to all the people that are trying to come after the live action Katara as being "Not the same energy girl power character who was expressive about her anger" you all "loved from the start'', please consider who and what was behind the scenes to make her this way. Especially since the animated show had other writers besides Bryke that understood Katara better if not more. Bryke wanted her to be more demure even in the pilot, and damsel. And yet the other writers gave her an actual story. Byrke have shown time and time again they do not want and angry passionate water bender that wants to be more active in changing the wrongs in the world, they want her to be more meek and docile and not fight back to let others save her in the comics and after. The OG had other writers that gave her her arc and Mae Whitmen give her the sass that we all love.

Live action Katara is no different. She has been trying to come into her own - with limited time to tell a story, limited time to get her arcs in fearful of cancellation, and with different writers, she can work, but not with Bryke. Same goes for the other characters too, not just Katara, but it seems that everyone pokes at Katara more and it is getting frustrating because some of these people just can never be happy with Katara.

Hopefully with season 2 and 3, we can have more time to flesh out the characters and maybe even have more show don't tell moments and being able to explore their feelings more. But only time will tell.

Rant over, sorry for the rambling mess.

[shaunashipman]

"Hell my favorite moments are when they’re just soft with each other and helping each other when they need the other one." Sure Jan. Because Buck couldn´t possibly help Eddie ever again now that he is into Tommy? Anon likely takes every little affection between Eddie and Buck as a sign that they are MoRE tHan fRienDS and then turns around and starts talking about how it´s just about "being soft with eacht other." Yeah, they can do that as friends and have done so for six seasons now. There never was anything romantic between them. But that is not good enough, is it? Because they just NEED to see Buck shoving his tongue down Eddies throat. B**ddie is a FANON ship, it always was. There is no comparison to Buck/Tommy because they are CANON. I´ve hoped for years now that people like Tim, media types and yes, the actors would stop indulging BoBs delusions, maybe the absolute lunacy of the last couple of weeks will do the trick.

Finally, here is a hc for you: Eddie is "helping" Buck buy a ring and plan his proposal to Tommy. Wouldn´t that be super "soft"?

yeah that felt like it was veering right for the whole purity, chaste love is better than horny love thing. like i said in another ask, that kitchen scene was nothing but softness; tommy trying to put buck at ease on the date was so soft; when he showed up for coffee, not knowing what was going to happen, he was so soft

i love eddie helping buck buy a ring and plan the proposal, cause buck would so be panicking. should it be big and public, a statement to the world about his love? or small and intimate, just the two of them? traditional down on one knee or hide the ring in something for tommy to find? but wait, what if he hides it in food and tommy accidentally swallows it, he's been called to so many proposals gone wrong and--eddie stop laughing, can't you see i need help here!!

of course eddie tried to re-propose to his wife with a chocolate metaphor, so it's a bit of the blind leading the blind, they try to set up something elaborate, everything goes wrong, they end up in the hospital, bobby and the others show up and ask what happened, they can only stutter through some half-assed excuse, and buck end up proposing from his hospital bed. tommy of course accepts immediately, tells buck he could have proposed in a walmart parking lot with a ring-pop and he would say yes

he insists tho that they're not having their wedding in the hospital too

[demoneyecandy]

Lust and Love - Part 1

Work: Lust and Love (Part 1)

WC: 6.4k Relationship: Asmodeus x Reader, Asmodeus x MC AFAB reader, she/her pronouns and gendered terms used for reader Warning: Explicit, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Yes, my Asmo is probably ooc, do I care? Not really. He’s my poor little meow meow and I’ll decide why he’s crying.

Description: Asmodeus is having trouble with self-destructive habits, as usual, but this time M/C is there to break him out of his spiral. He shows his appreciation in a very on-brand way.

The fifth-born knew that people talked about him. How could they not? He was simply the most interesting being in all three realms, who could blame them? Some would call him flawless, confident, and sensual – he wasn’t prized in the Celestial Realm for nothing. Others called him vapid, self-absorbed, apathetic, loose, among other nasty comments. If anyone asked, he’d reply that he didn’t pay any attention to the haters. Why would they matter when everyone else knows he’s perfect? And if anyone noticed that after a day with more insults than usual Asmo would be tanked within half an hour of leaving the house? Well, that was just a coincidence. They all know he loves to party, don’t make it a bigger deal than it needs to be.

With the introduction of social media to the Devildom his behavior only spiraled out of control. Devilgram served as a permanent reminder that no matter what he did he would not be universally loved. For someone like Asmo, that was his weakness. The insults cut a lot deeper than he would ever show. His whole identity was based around being desirable. He was the Avatar of Lust, not a scumbag or shut-in like his brothers.

Though the people leaving those comments kept their voices down when he passed them in the halls at RAD, the anonymity of the internet emboldened them. The negative comments were quickly reported by his fans but that didn’t stop them from being burned into his mind. From the more basic “whore” and “stuck-up bitch” to the more involved, “Who does he think he is? He’s not that cute”, “Idk why this loser has so many simps”, “bet he only has this many likes on his posts because he fucked them all lmao”, he had gotten all types of negative comments on his social media posts. When he would complain to his brothers in his usual over-the-top fashion, eyes full of tears and voice several octaves higher than it needed to be, they would shrug him off the same way they did when he told them about his favorite hair product line being discontinued or missing a sale at Majolish. In a way, that was probably his fault – if he gave two things the same weight in the way he presented the problem, of course his family would assume it was just Asmo being dramatic again.

Sometimes at night, when memories of the war haunted him, he would open his phone and scroll through the comments on the Devilgram posts he’d made that day. Anything to occupy his thoughts. The positive ones faded into the background – he knew he was beautiful; he knew he was a fashion icon, and that his skin was flawless. He also knew he wasn’t worth the attention he received, and yet he craved it more than air. He’d re-read every nasty thing that had been said about him, letting the words sink in and join the swirling torrent of self-hatred in his head. He genuinely didn’t know why he did it – maybe the same reason he’d go out and indulge in his sin every night he could. Diavolo had once tried to get the brothers to speak to some counselors after they fell, and his counselor had said his behavior seemed like a form of self-harm. That was the last time he saw that poor excuse for a therapist – how in the world could pleasure be harmful? Of course, there were the times where pain was involved, but that was all consensual. He’d never allow anyone to mar his gorgeous skin. He had already spent ages trying every suggestion he’d ever received to make his scars fade to the point that they were nothing more than barely-there pale lines from cuts and missing spots of pigmentation from burns, he certainly wouldn’t risk adding more. He felt like everyone could see them, like everyone was staring, but he knew rationally that they were only noticeable to him.

When the exchange student had first arrived and he had discovered that she was immune to his abilities, he wasn’t ashamed to admit he had spent a few nights making his way through the highlights of his little black book. His booty calls were proof that he was desirable in the form of men and women writhing in his sheets until the early hours of the morning. When he realized that she liked him anyway? That was the best he had felt in a long time. On the outside of course he played it off, keeping up his flirtatious banter with the human. But to realize that there was someone who liked him, not because of his charm? Or because he could make them feel good? It was exhilarating and terrifying. Sure, she likes him now, but what about when she realizes what everyone else has? That he’s nothing but a bed warmer with a pretty face? He dreaded that day. It was coming sooner or later, he knew it, so he would just do his best to keep the human from seeing any of the cracks he covered up with product.

It was one of those nights tonight. He broke a nail and the visible imperfection sent him into a tailspin until he could get to his room and fix his manicure. As he waited for the polish to dry, he was scrolling through the comments on a selfie he had posted during lunch at RAD. M/C had said he looked cute, so he wanted to believe it, but here he was. Giving so much weight to the opinions of people who couldn’t even say shit to his face.

His spiral was interrupted before it could really get going by a knock on his bedroom door. If it were anyone else he’d yell at them to go away, but he knew from the pattern of the knock that it was M/C.

“Just a moment, darling” he called.

Jumping out of bed, he walked over to his vanity to be sure his hair was perfect and his lip gloss didn’t need to be reapplied.  As satisfied with his reflection as he could ever be, he put on a smile and made his way to open his door. Leaning sensually on the doorframe, he gave M/C his best “fuck me” eyes as he greeted them;

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the most delectable human in the three realms. How can I help you, dear?”

M/C’s face lit up and she laughed at the demon’s antics.

“I’m having some trouble winding down for the night, and I thought I could relax here for a little bit. It’s so calming when you play with my hair”.

Asmodeus was both relieved and frustrated as the human walked past him and settled onto his bed. On the one hand, his spiral had been interrupted before he could do anything particularly self-destructive. On the other hand, it meant he was all amped up with negative feelings and no real outlet for them. There was none of the catharsis that comes along with making bad decisions. It was like that dread and anxiety and self-hatred was sitting in his gut, but he certainly wasn’t going to let M/C see him crack if he could help it. He slowly shut his bedroom door and sat next to where his human had made herself comfortable on his bed.

His eyes roamed her body, lingering just a bit too long on her plush thighs and the peek of skin where her pajama top rode up. It took her a second, but she realized where his eyes were lingering, and she quickly pulled down her shirt. That was fine by him, all it did was expose her collarbones, which he took in just as happily. She blushed and turned away, hoping to regain her composure before he noticed the red tint in her cheeks. She had no such luck, but it was cute that she thought she could hide anything from him.

He did his best to keep the predatory glint out of his eyes. The demon knew that if he came on too strong she would back off, like she had on the few occasions he’d run into her after a night out and his confidence got the best of him. The next morning he would pretend he had blacked out, but he treasured the memories of the trembling of her frame beneath his hands when he’d come in close to whisper in her ear some of the naughty thoughts he’d had about her and the startled noise she’d made the time he slapped her ass on his way up to bed. It had been just his luck that Mammon had been at the end of the hallway, so he’d gotten quite the talking to from Lucifer the next morning. Something about not taking advantage of the exchange student, how he had to show more respect, the reputation of Diavolo’s exchange program, blah blah blah. The only thing he had cared about was that it hadn’t been M/C herself who’d told Lucifer, it had been a jealous brother. He had, in fact, felt a lovely spark of lust rise up in his human on every occasion he’d gotten bold from the (frankly, impressive) amount of demonus in his system. After all, he’s a demon, not a monster. Sexual assault is anathema to sexual pleasure and therefore unacceptable at every level for the Avatar of Lust. Sometimes late at night when he’d touch himself he’d remember how she’d looked like a deer in the headlights, so afraid of his touch but so desperately wanting it just the same. Other times, when he was feeling more sentimental, he’d think of her laugh, her smile, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him.

After she thought her face was back to normal (it wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that when she just looked so damn cute), she moved around until her head was in his lap and her body was stretched out in a pile of his softest blankets, grabbing his hand and placing it on her head in an unvoiced demand for him to stroke her hair. His heart melted – this was all she ever asked of him. At the same time, a small voice in the back of his head spoke.

You know why she doesn’t try to fuck you, right? You’re not good enough for her and she knows it. I’m sure she’s fucking one of your brothers instead. She’s found someone who could satisfy her in a way you never could. After all, you’re nothing but a placeholder. Easy and good enough for a night, but why would she want you when she could have them? Why would she want damaged goods? A vapid, self-obsessed, pathetic excuse for a demon. You were a shitty angel too.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly, trying to will the thoughts away. He busied himself running his hands through M/C’s hair, carefully untangling any knots he found along the way. Her eyes had closed, letting herself sink into the feeling. There was a gentle smile on her face, and she raised her chin to lean into his touch, leaving her neck completely exposed. Vulnerable. She was allowing herself to be entirely vulnerable with him, a being who could slit her throat in an instant, or tug her hair hard enough to pull her head clean off her body. He felt tears well up in his eyes at her trust, but the thoughts kept coming, taking him back down into that bad place he had been heading for before M/C came to his door.

You’re nothing. She knows you’re nothing, and that’s why she isn’t afraid. Your pact makes you useless, you couldn’t hurt her if you wanted to. You’re a declawed kitten. Pathetic. Why would she want you? She has her pick of suitors in the Devildom, you wouldn’t even make the top-10. She pities you, that’s why she lets you touch her.

M/C had thought it was strange that Asmodeus had been quiet, but she figured he must have been tired, so she wasn’t going to bug him when he was already doing her a favor by calming her down for the night. Truthfully, she had just wanted to see her favorite demon. He had been more withdrawn at home for the last few weeks, spending more nights out at The Fall locking lips with anyone in arm’s reach and chugging demonus like it was water. She was mildly concerned for him. His brothers had said that he got in moods like this sometimes, but at least he wasn’t bringing home a new demon (or demons) every night. M/C wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but she was a little jealous hearing about his past behavior. She knew it was silly, it wasn’t like she even knew him then, and she had no say in what he did in his spare time. It wasn’t like she was a virgin either. Still, Levi had looked at her knowingly when they’d told her, recognizing the envy welling up in her.

She realized that something was wrong when she felt wetness drip onto her cheek.

“Asmo?” M/C opened her eyes, greeted with the most disheveled version of the Avatar of Lust that she’d ever seen. Not that that said much, she rarely saw him with a single hair out of place, but seeing his eyes puffy and tear tracks down his face was enough to seriously concern her. She sat up slowly, reaching to grab his hand from where it had paused in her hair.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” her thumb gently stroked across the back of his hand. Rather than the gesture comforting him, as she’d hoped, he made eye contact only to begin audibly crying. Still unsure what was happening, she pulled herself up onto her knees to face him, bringing her other hand to his face and holding mimicking the motions she was making on the back of his hand along his cheekbone. She tried to keep the movement steady, methodical, to give him something to focus on so he could calm down enough to tell her what was happening. He leaned into her touch, grabbing her hand with his free hand and holding it there like he was scared she’d disappear if he let go. She shushed him quietly, reminding him of her presence whenever he seemed to be retreating into his own head.

Neither of them know how long it was before Asmodeus’s sobbing turned into pathetic little hiccupping, his eyes long since dried out. They sat in silence for a few minutes, each of them too afraid to drag them back to the present moment. M/C spoke first.

“Can I get you anything? Some water? A washcloth?”

He nodded, avoiding eye contact out of sheer embarrassment and fear of what would happen next. The one thing he didn’t want to happen above all else had happened, and now she was going to steer clear of him. He was sure of it.

Reluctantly, he let go of her hand as she went to his bathroom in search of what he needed. Now alone on his bed, he felt so small and so fragile. He had only known M/C for a very, very small faction of his very, very long existence, but somehow he couldn’t imagine going back to the way things were before he’d met her – especially as she continued to live in the House of Lamentation and develop her relationship with his brothers and the residents of both the Demon Lord’s Castle and Purgatory Hall. He knew she was kind and patient, but all his mind would let him see was her laying under some nondescript body, laughing about how pathetic the fifth-born was as she was pleasured by someone else, letting the world know how weak and inadequate he was. That he was an embarrassment to his title. He would have kept crying at that point, but he wasn’t sure his body even had that much water left. This was going to do such a number on his skin, he’d really need to step up his game with his skincare routine. Going through his plan of attack was enough to focus his mind and calm him down in the few minutes it took M/C to find a drinking glass and a washcloth in his enormous bathroom.

The human handed him the glass, waiting for him to drink half before she took it from his hands to place on his nightstand. She gently wiped his face with the damp cloth, knowing he’d feel better without the salt staining his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so delicate with him, treating him like a valuable rather than something easily replaceable. The thought made his heart hurt, and brought with it a new wave of thoughts about how he wasn’t treated like that because he really wasn’t valuable. That his human was mistaken and she’d know it soon enough. She’d seen the first crack in his façade, it wouldn’t be too long now before she saw the rest.

As she went to get up to place the washcloth back in the bathroom, he made a little noise and grabbed for her hand.

“Asmo, I have to put this away. I’m not going anywhere, I swear, I just don’t want to leave something damp on your bedsheets”.

Reluctantly, he let go, and she went back to the bathroom as quickly as she could. Asmo had always been needy, this wasn’t news to anyone, but rarely had she seen him so desperate. Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, she could see peeks of the Asmodeus he wanted to hide from the world. She knew the fall had been traumatic for all of them, but she wouldn’t pretend to know the extent of that kind of trauma. It wasn’t something that was her place to draw attention to, because no matter how much she loved them she knew that just love wasn’t enough when it came to dealing with something of that gravity. They needed to share at their pace, if they ever felt comfortable sharing at all. All she could do was hope that this was some kind of turning point for him, and that he was ready to be open with her. Well, as open as was healthy. Baby steps, right?

The demon visibly relaxed when she came back towards him. Climbing over him, she laid down on ‘her’ side of the bed as Asmo called it jokingly (it wasn’t a joke but he was pleading the fifth on that question). She made grabby hands, and a relieved Asmodeus rolled into her side, resting his head on her chest and winding an arm around her waist. She set her chin on top of his head and wrapped her arms around him as best she could. She knew he needed to feel completely safe if he was going to talk about whatever had just happened.

The two laid together for a bit, the sounds of the house creaking and his brothers going about their business throughout the house breaking up the quiet in a way that made it palatable. Finally, Asmodeus spoke in a voice lacking all of his usual bravado and charm.

“So, I’m guessing you’d like to know what that was about”.

“If you feel comfortable sharing. I’m here for you, Asmo, you won’t scare me away. You just have to trust me”.

A beat of silence passed before the man took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was definitely going to be a painful conversation on his end.

“I… I’m not sure where to start. You know what they called me in the Celestial Realm, right?”

A nod.

“The Jewel of the Heavens. My face, my body, my charm, it was something our Father truly valued. I was beautiful, and that’s how I earned my keep. I was an ornament. I didn’t mind it much at the time – why would I care when it was nothing but a positive? Even Lucifer loved to show me off, his beautiful little brother. The pride of the Celestial Realm”.

M/C maintained eye contact, not daring to interrupt but wanting to show she was listening. She moved one hand up to stroke his hair, like he had done to her a million times before.

“When we fell… I don’t think there’s any kind of corollary in a human life. I went from an admired figure, praised for my beauty, to nothing when I made the decision to rebel with my brothers and Lilith. I don’t regret my decision, don’t get me wrong, Lilith was one of the most wonderful beings I’ve met in my life. I still miss her even now”.

The demon broke eye contact, trying to hide the quiver in his voice as he thought of his dead sister. The pain of that kind of loss never actually goes away and it’s harder some days.

“The point is, as a result of that decision, I lost everything that I knew about myself. By the end of the war, I was covered in big, ugly scars, stripped of my status as an angel and turned into a demon - a being that I had been told since I was created was inherently evil, wrong, and unlovable. It took me years before I could look at myself in a mirror again. I wasn’t Asmodeus, Jewel of the Heavens. I was Asmodeus, a vile, unlovable Thing. I had to feel something again, I had to be someone again. That’s how I ended up like this – I found a way I could feel loved again, even if just for a night”.

Or, he thought to himself, more often an hour in a nightclub bathroom.

He continued speaking, too scared to look up at his human’s eyes and see disgust or contempt in them.

“I will never be the me I was again. Never. Even thousands of years later that isn’t something I’ve fully come to terms with yet. I feel broken and wrong. On good days I really do mean what I say – that I’m beautiful, irresistible, absolutely perfect in every way”.

His voice took on a lilt and a small smile twisted the corner of his mouth as he remembered the feeling of power that comes with his moments of genuine confidence. However, as he began again, his voice sounded unsure again and so very small.

“On bad days, it’s all I can do to get out of bed. If I’m not beautiful, if I’m not wanted, what’s the point? What’s the point of any of this? Sometimes, when I make them chase me, when I let them put their hands on me, I feel like I’m wanted. Just for a little while, and that’s enough. What more could I ask for? After all, I’m not Mammon, can’t get too greedy”.

He tacked on a joke at the end, complete with a clearly forced laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere that had settled over his room. He felt M/C press her lips to the crown of his head, still stroking his hair softly. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond, and she knew she had to be careful with the next thing out of her mouth.

“Asmodeus, you are worth so much. To so many people. To your brothers, to all of our friends, to me. I’m so proud of you for sharing that with me, it can’t have been easy”.

As she looked down, seeking his eyes, the demon saw only compassion in those eyes. It was a strange sight for him, and it made him feel something inside that he knew he had felt before, but he couldn’t quite remember when. It felt like there were butterflies in his stomach. There was some tension between them. Though it had an element of lust, it was moreso the unidentified emotion. He didn’t know what to do about that, so he decided to go with what he knew best- lust. Acting on muscle memory, he reached up to pull M/C’s head down to his. Surprised by Asmo pulling her down into a kiss when moments before he had been so vulnerable, M/C gasped and froze, allowing her pactmate to gain the upper hand.

The kiss was hungry and desperate from the start, definitely not how she imagined their first kiss beyond a casual peck on the lips, but it felt too good for her to dwell on that for long. With his tongue exploring her mouth he moved from his spot curled up on her side to get completely on top, pinning her in place. He held her wrists firmly above her head and his knees kept her thighs in place. His grip on her was somehow delicate and firm at the same time. The two let out little moans and pants between kisses, each losing themselves in the feeling of the other’s clothed body on their own. When Asmodeus separated their mouths, she followed his lips as far as she could, needing more. He shot her a look as though telling her to stay put, and she obeyed. His eyes were blown wide, glowing like a sunset. It was more out of habit than anything else since they knew his charm did nothing to her but it was undeniably beautiful.

The demon traced down her neck with messy kisses. If he weren’t a demon, she’d think he seemed like a man possessed. Between little nibbles and sucking, he panted out everything he was thinking, as if speaking it into her skin would make it so. When she concentrated, she could make out some of what he was saying over and over, almost like a prayer.

“I’ll be so good for you. I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t regret this. This will make you love me, I know it”.

She didn’t like to use her pact, but he was too lost in her body to listen if she asked nicely and his grip was too strong for her to break.

“Asmodeus, stop”.

He froze, a confused and hurt look on his face.

“Did I do something wrong?”

His eyes glowed brighter, as if subconsciously trying to fix whatever mistake he had made.

“Let go of me”. She tried to keep her voice even and maintain eye contact. She wanted to convey that she wasn’t upset, but he was clearly panicking inside his head.

The demon released her wrists, placing them on his own thighs. He tried to look away, ashamed, but the human gently directed his gaze back to her with a finger on his chin. She sat up against the pillows, trying to seem as serious as she could with disheveled clothing and red marks blooming all over her neck.

“Do you think that this is out of pity?” She desperately hoped that she had been reading into it too much, that he knew what she had been afraid to say. Her fears were confirmed when he cast his eyes downward and to the side, staring into space rather than meeting her eyes.

“Asmodeus, I can’t possibly imagine what you went through. You are so strong for going through that and still managing to be the funny, caring, genuine person that I know. What I do have some experience with is needing to feel wanted so badly that I’d let people touch me even when I wanted nothing more than for them to stop. I also know how absolutely garbage it feels when it’s over and they leave without so much as another word, I would just feel so used”. M/C’s eyes teared up as she remembered the feeling, but she blinked them away, willing herself to focus on the man in front of her.

“I never, ever want you to feel that way again. Not if I can help it. I love you, Asmodeus. Let me show you how much”.

A smile finally crossing his lips, albeit a small one, Asmo nodded. This time it was the human who brought their lips together, though their kiss was just as passionate as before. She caught the demon by surprise, rolling them over so she was the one pinning him to the bed. He looked up at M/C with pure adoration in his eyes, electrified by the love he saw reflected in hers and the lust he felt emanating from her soul. Finally confident that they were on the same page, M/C poured all of the affection she could into every touch, every kiss. She felt his hands travel up from their place on her waist to cup her breasts through her pajama shirt, moaning at his touch. Her sounds spurred him on, letting him regain some of his confidence. If there was one thing he knew he was an expert on, it was pleasure. He played with her nipples through her clothing and treasured every noise he was able to pull from her. Each gasp, every sigh, just emboldened him more. By the time he had stripped her of her top, he was fully in his element.

“Asmo”, she begged, “please, let me touch you too”.

She shifted her weight back onto her knees to make room for her demon to get out from under her. Readjusting so they laid side-by-side facing each other, they took the moment to stare into each other’s eyes. M/C’s smile was contagious, and Asmodeus couldn’t help but smile back. She hadn’t even touched him yet and she was already better than his fantasies. He hadn’t dared to let himself imagine her loving him, and he was going to treasure every second he got with her.

Her shaking hands made their way from his abdomen up to his chest, tweaking his nipples just to hear the noise he’d make before she got to work unbuttoning his pajama shirt. The more she teased him with brief touches, the more he squirmed for her. He was this close to ripping it off himself, and he really liked this pj set - he thought it brought out his eyes. Before he could finish deciding if it was worth popping the buttons off and maybe even a few seams, he felt the soft skin of the other’s hands finally trail up and down his torso. The demon made a noise almost like a purr, reminding M/C of his inhumanity in a thrilling way.

“Touch me”, it came out more as a breathy whisper than a demand, but she listened all the same.

Leaning over him to kiss down his neck and chest, the human used one hand to support her weight near his head and the other to trail down his body, stopping to cup his growing erection through his pants. An unexpectedly loud moan cut the air as she bit gently down on his nipple and began to stroke his cock.

“Shhh baby”, she said in a voice he’d never heard from her before, “You don’t want your brothers hearing and coming in here to stop us, do you?”. It was only then that he remembered he hadn’t locked his door earlier. From the grin spreading across her face as she looked towards the door, she knew it too. Asmo had never seen her look more mischievous in the whole time he’d known her and he was living for it. He was pretty sure he was witnessing the creation of a monster and he had no regrets, except that they hadn’t done this sooner.

Taking his silence for agreement, she got up only to kneel on the floor at the edge of the bed. She motioned for him to sit up and strip, which he did gladly. She took in the sight of his cock hungrily, eyes glazed over imagining what it would feel like in her pussy. He had seen that look many times and knew exactly what was going through her mind. Still, if he didn’t tease, would he even be Asmo?

With his bottoms thrown towards his laundry hamper, he spread his legs enticingly and grabbed the base of his cock. He stroked himself slowly, seeing M/C’s eyes fixate on a drop of precome on the head.

“Do you like what you see, my dear?” She could hear the grin in his voice. It was comforting to hear him sound like his usual confident self again.

“Very much”. Her hands began to rub along his thighs, appreciating the lean muscle she felt underneath her fingertips. “Can I taste you?”

“I thought you’d never ask, darling. Show me how you worship me in your daydreams”.

Her face lit up bright red. He couldn’t know, could he? He was just guessing, it was just dirty talk… right?

Swallowing the embarrassment she felt at the idea that Asmo knew the content of her fantasies, she began to rub soothing circles into his skin and kiss up and down his inner thighs.

“Oh sweetheart, I know you do more than that in those dreams of yours. How about you keep going, and you let me know if any of this rings a bell”. At this she began nipping at his skin every few kisses, soothing over any bites she made with her tongue.

“Let’s see, I think one of my favorites so far was in the library the other day. It was you, me, Satan, and Levi studying for the upcoming Seductive Speechcraft exam. About the time we were doing our individual reading, I recall you having some particularly interesting ideas. How did it start again?”

Her hand replaced his own stroking him, placing gentle kisses on his balls. She didn’t want this to end too soon and, honestly, she was curious if he actually did know what she had been thinking or if he just picked up on her getting horny that day and was trying to mess with her.

“Ah, yes”, his breath hitched as she dragged her tongue up the length of his dick, swirling around his head, only to kiss back down his shaft. “We were studying together, the same four of us that were actually there, but Levi and Satan got up to get a snack for us all. Once they left, I turned to you and told you how beautiful you looked”.

M/C’s hand sped up, and she leaned down to start sucking on the tip of his cock, keeping a steady pressure, and feeling proud at the flush in his cheeks. Slowly, she began to take him inch by inch in her mouth.

“I think after some flirting it took a rather raunchy turn, so let’s skip to the good part. I distinctly remember you dreaming of me sticking my hand down your panties and fingering you open, whispering sweet nothings to you the whole time”. M/C’s moan was muffled by the dick halfway down her throat, sending vibrations up Asmo’s cock. The sound of pleasure he made in response caused her to rub her thighs together, her own arousal obvious.

“What happened next? I think I lost my train of thought..”. M/C had gone down on him as far as she could, her nose nestled in the well-trimmed pubic hair on his pelvis. Asmodeus threaded his hand through her hair, pulling it up into a makeshift handle. She moaned, knowing what was about to happen. Asmo giggled, appreciating how eager she was for him to use her.

“That’s right”, he stared down at the woman with hooded eyes and his cocky grin, clearly back in his element, “you begged me to fuck your face”. Gripping her hair, he pulled back and thrust back into her mouth, hard. He let out a delighted gasp as her throat constricted around his dick.

“Darling, you feel so good, you’re such a good girl for me”, M/C’s eyes rolled back at the praise and as Asmo picked up the pace of his hips, she could do nothing but relax into his grip and let him use her. As his hips stuttered, she could feel him approaching his orgasm. Asmodeus made the most erotic sound the human had ever heard as he pulled her face flush to his body and released down her throat. M/C quickly swallowed, eager for more of him. He panted gently as he came down, relaxing his grip and transitioning to slowly smoothing her hair. The pair sat there for a moment to catch their breath.

“Holy shit”, M/C was the first to break the silence.

“Holy shit is right”, Asmodeus replied with a hungry grin. He reached a hand down to pull M/C up from her knees and into his lap. The two embraced, and Asmodeus felt himself hardening again at how he could taste himself on her tongue.

“Your turn now, sweetheart”, the demon cooed. Before M/C could say a word, the world spun and suddenly Asmodeus was laying on the bed and she found herself on her knees above his face. He licked his lips in anticipation before lowering her onto his face.

Maybe it was a demon thing, or maybe it was an Asmodeus thing, but the way his tongue moved on her clit and between her labia was like nothing she had experienced before. His mouth was hot, and wet, and almost electrifying as it managed to pinpoint her every weak spot. Every time she ground her hips into his face, embracing pleasure instead of running from it like she had with so many other men before him, he rewarded her with a moan, sending vibrations up into her body. The closer that M/C got to the edge, the harder she pulled on his soft curls, forgetting her own taunts about his brothers hearing and getting progressively louder. She came with a desperate cry of his name, squirting onto his face, which the demon excitedly lapped up with his tongue. M/C rolled off of his face and flopped bonelessly onto the bed. Asmodeus wasted no time climbing on top of her and bringing their lips together yet again, this time with a ferocity she had only imagined in her most erotic dreams. The feeling of his hard cock on the soft skin of her thigh made them both shiver in anticipation.

“Are you ready for me?” Asmodeus began, “I meant it before when I said I’d make it good for you. I want to make you cum harder than you’ve ever cum before”.

“Well,” M/C said breathlessly, “mission accomplished”.

“Oh honey,” the demon laughed and his eyes began to glow again, “you have no idea what I’m capable of”.

Let me know what you guys thought! I’m going to write a second part if there’s interest. Cross-posted to AO3 with the same username. Thanks for reading <3  

[nitrozem]

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire

Thanks for the tag @natolesims ! I love doing these.

Think I'll do my werewolf boi, Ajay this time (I did Miguel for the last one)

1. What uncommon/common fear do they have?

The dude acts fearless but he has one fear and it's stink bugs. Why? Well werewolf pups like practicing their hunting on small insects and stuff that cross their path and young Ajay decided to pounce on a stink bug and had a very bad time lol

bonus pic of smol pup Ajay

2. Do they have any pet peeves?

He doesn't like it when people move his stuff around. He's not organized but it works for him cause he has his weird disorganized places he keeps his things.

3. What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

his werewolf toy, this crystal light shaped like a moon that Sid made for him, something random he may have dug up during a rampage and forgot about (usually shoes, rocks and trash)

4. What do they notice first in a person?

Their smell, werewolf super smell and all. He can figure out if a person is an occult by the smell.

5. On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

A 10, he's been in so many werewolf brawls, and running through the forest, it takes a lot to actually get him to be very bothered by pain and he heals quickly. He wears his scars like badges of honor lol

6. Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Fight fight fight! He likes fighting and hates to appear like a wimp.

7. Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

No, he was an only child, had a mom and dad and that's it. He has a big family now though. (4 children, his husband, and his father who is still kicking) I would say he is a family person, he loves all his kids and is protective over them and his husband.

bonus family photo :)

and grandpa (ajay's father, Ravi) cause we love him and his terrible dad jokes

8. What animal represents them best?

Well...a wolf

9. What is a smell that they dislike?

Vampires have a necrotic undead smell he hates like most werewolves. He also hates coming across somewhere that was "marked" by another werewolf and gets territorial.

10. Have they broken any bones?

Nope

11. How would a stranger likely describe them?

Depends. If he's dressed nicely and calm, people see he's sure of himself or confident. When he's high fury/wearing his torn or rocker clothes, he still has that confident vibe but in a more intimidating way.

12. Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Night Owl because werewolves are nocturnal, he'll be up in the morning anyway because he doesn't sleep much.

13. What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

He hates all artificial fruit candy, as for a flavor he loves, a steak, seasoned right (and very very rare)

14. Do they have any hobbies?

Yes, he likes to knit and paint mostly. He likes to read and likes tor forage/hunt for crystals or mushrooms that Sid might need

15. Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

I'd say he's pretty stoked

16. Do they like to wear jewelry?

Yeah, his moon necklace his mother gave him and other bracelets Sid makes him

17. Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

It's actually very neat!

18. What are two emotions they feel the most?

Energetic and confident

19. Do they have a favorite fabric?

really soft fleece, he'll fall asleep real quick in a pile of fleece sweaters lol

20. What kind of accent do they have?

subtle indian accent (mother had an indian accent, father has a southern usa accent so it's a mix of that)

The closest voice claim I have for him is Dr. Carrington from Fallout 4 I like imagining that he sounds very eloquent and chill (well at least until his fury gets high enough, then he's just loud, rough sounding and growly)

If you just want to talk about yours OC's just do this and say I tagged you or w/e, use all excuses to talk about your OC's and stories 👍🏼

(that and I'm not very active on here atm due to not wanting to play sims, social media detox and attempts at better habits in life.)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I break off an old friendship with someone who stayed by my side despite my mental and general life issues, after everyone else had left?

This friend from high school had been a great friend, kept me company when I was all alone, supported me through two bad breakups, we went to the same college and we were very close.

Until I started talking more openly about politics, being queer, mental health etc. She's the facebook liberal type, slightly left of center. She gave me the freedom to be more open with her by being cool with taboo topics, then turned sour when it extended beyond what she knew. Examples, she'd change subject if I talked about queer media when normally she's telling her friends how she had a sleepover with her "wife" and saw each other naked. She was surprised to learn that you're not supposed to out someone against their will. She believes cops are bad only in USA. We're not Americans.

She started being open with me too, she told me how she hated it when her classmates talked about their favorite music, how she hated any fandom stuff they talked about besides discussing fanfics with another fandom friend, how she makes excuses so she can go wherever she wants alone and not with friends. She told me she spies on my exes on facebook insta etc and tried to tell me what they've been up to and only stopped telling me about after many requests and explanations as to why that made me really uncomfortable.

A few months ago she and I had a fight, she exclaimed that my politics was too American (I'm just an average leftist like most of 30+ tumblr and my other friends), that my politics was too fandom oriented (she avoids fandom so much she has blocked activists for even hinting at being a fandomgoer, like discussion of racism in fandom is waste of time and silly to her, fan-anything can't be taken seriously), mocked me for having childish interests (just knowing pop culture in general) then we stopped talking.

After some months she texted that she really misses talking to me as I was her only "progressive friend" who understood her when she wanted to discuss feminism, movies, world politics etc. She said she needed me to be her gateway to pop culture knowledge as I knew so many cool new things. She begged me to be friends again, and since I missed hanging out with her a lot I started chatting again. But I told her that it was hard for me to forgive her and I'd leave for real if she hurts me again.

This time she let go of the normal daily stuff we used to talk about and only stuck to Topics of Debate. She asked me to teach her progressive thinking, educate her, but when I asked if she wanted to touch on lgbt+ topics or physical -mental health related topics outside of her comfort zone of basic sexual health, she danced around a lot instead of giving an answer. I snapped and asked yes or no, she said no.

I asked her if she understands that even if she didn't feel like those topics were her priority, I'd probably want to talk about them with her as a queer neurodivergent person and friend, would that be an issue? She kind of ignored it to say that basically her priority was just local political gossip, religion, and a little bit of solarpunk stuff, outdated at that. I was disappointed but let it go and we decided to talk later.

The other day she messaged me with her usual gossip about how her friends are being too excited about some music stuff and what book she thinks I should read (we have completely different taste). And I got a panic attack. Since then I've had multiple panic attacks at the thought of having to talk to her.

She has been one of my oldest friends, she supported me and took my side in every breakup I had and she forced me to go outside when I was severely depressed, she was practically family, but now I feel like I'm walking on eggshells. If I bring up any topic she dislikes she's going to turn away, if I come out to her as trans she'll joke and start to avoid me, she doesn't want to learn anything new even though she takes pride in being a great learner, if I talk about things that make me happy she'll ignore it. I don't know if she'll go and tell others how cringey my interests are. Maybe she'll go to my exes and tell them I used her as support and threw her away when she didn't meet the standard as that's been a line of thinking among my exes.

I'm also struggling with BPD and anxiety, so maybe I'm hating her now and will want her back later, it's my brain being a jerk? I think I'm overreacting and she won't do any of these, but I also feel so drained after we talk these days. I need friends who I can talk to about mundane things, friends who share memes with me and tell me what anime they're passionate about, what new recipe they liked, instead I feel like I'm just there to drag her down with my issues and politics and dumb jokes. But multiple people think I used and discarded them for not agreeing politically, I'd usually disagree but what if I am the problem and I expect too much?

So I'm asking, am I being a jerk if I cut her off?

What are these acronyms?

[mimiatmidnight]

Hey! How are you? Would like to say that I LOVE your blog, and I was wondering if you would like to update your top 5 H&M moments, maybe add another 5??

Folks, if you've ever wondered what is the oldest message sitting in my inbox, it's this one. (Well, I'm pretty sure there are a couple others that are a touch older but every time I try to scroll back that far, my inbox just glitches. There are . . . a lot of messages sitting in there. Sorry about that 😬). So I just want to say thank you to this anon and everyone else who has sent me tens of messages over the years asking for this updated post (unless the messages were all from the same one person all this time, in which case, my god I'd feel even GUILTIER).

It's been two years since the original, but an even wilder FIVE years since Harry and Meghan wed in one of the most consequential events in modern cultural history. What a wonderful, special day to look back on their relationship, with even more of my favorite moments between these two unlikely lovers. While writing this post, I laughed, I swooned, I cried. And I, uh, REALLY went off the rails at the end. Content warning for just the sickest, sappiest philosophizing you've ever seen. I'd apologize, but I just can't help it. Harry and Meg just have that effect on me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So, with one more thank you to everyone who has been so patient and kind and loving to me these past few years, let's get into it! Five(-ish, lol) more of my favorite Harry and Meghan moments:

5. WE will not look a mess

I'd be remiss not to start this list of my personal favorite H&M moments with what is, judging by the numbers, arguably the entire WORLD'S favorite H&M moment. This iconic video by twitter user @/ddarveyy is perhaps the Sussex Squad's most viral fan tweet of all time? And if qualitative evidence is more convincing to you than quantitative, this video has been blessed with the mark of being liked by none other than Madame Rhianna herself. That's certified social media Diamond. The tweet also spawned some great jokes, ranging from Virgo Harry always making sure to keep his wife looking on point, to some people speculating about certain other, ah, intimate contexts where H might have developed this habit of putting his hands in her hair.

Ahem, either way, I've always seen this touching practice of his as being in the same vein of all those times he watches out for her footing on stairs or treacherous terrain. He's always on standby, always keeping an eye on her, never 100% focused on something else when she's near. You know, just in case she needs help. Or (more likely) just in case he has an excuse to fuss over her 😏 And you know what? Harry strikes me as the kind of man who has waited a long time to have someone to fuss over, someone to worry about and take care of outside of himself. And now that he has that someone . . . well, Captain Wales reporting for motherfucking duty 🫡

BONUS MAINTENANCE FASCINATION:

Yes we're doing bonus content again -- I did say "five(-ish)" moments! The "ish" was forewarned!!!

Anyways, while we're on the topic of sentimentally rhapsodizing about Harry keeping an eye on Meg and her hair, I want to sneak in a reboot of a discussion I had with an anon a few months ago after the Netflix documentary came out. These quiet, behind-the-scenes moments where Meg is getting her dress fitted or painting her nails, and there is Harry happily watching from behind. It's a small thing, I know, but it speaks volumes to me. The intimacy that comes with watching your partner prepare herself to face the world, the peaceful trust and unspoken support. And if you think THAT is me reading too much into it, scroll back to that original discussion and watch me make myself cry over picturing Harry as a kid watching his mom go through her similar glam routine. Y'all don't even KNOW the kinds of crazy parasocial assumptions I can lose my mind over!!!!!

And while we're here barely on topic talking about the intimacy of behind-the-scenes, let's move now from the "before" preparation, to the "after" unwinding (and undressing??). One of the most bittersweet moments from the doc for me was this picture, taken after one of Harry and Meg's final royal duty events. Away from the cameras, and the press, and the people, alone in their kitchen at last. I can think of no better representation of "Leaving the world behind."

4. Meghan "My Husband" Markle

There has been much discussion over Harry being the ultimate "wife guy," and deservedly so. If I tried to put in this post every moment the man has practically glowed with the pleasure of saying "my WIFE," I'm afraid this website would crash from server overload. But a less-discussed, yet equally sweet through line is Meghan being the ultimate "husband girl." And I think no single moment is a better demonstration of this phenomenon than her opening speech last year at Invictus 2022.

Introducing her husband to the crowd of his Invictus family, Meghan said, "I could not love and respect him more, and I know that all of you feel the same. He is your fellow veteran, he's the founder of the Invictus Games, and the father to our two little ones, Archie and Lili. Please welcome my incredible husband, Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex." And then the crowd roared, and Harry and Meghan kissed, and we got all these ooey-gooey heart eyes.

And then as Harry took the stage, overwhelmed by the love of his wife and his community, he choked up.

"Thank you my love."

And I was never the same :')

BONUS "HUSBAND GIRL" SIMPING:

At the 2021 Salute to Freedom Gala, a reporter asking, "Meghan are you proud of your husband?" And Meghan bashfully turning back to answer, "I'm always proud of him." 🫠

And one even blushier, from the African tour documentary. Somebody come pick our girl up off the FLOOR!!!!

3. BAY. BEES.

Ok so I am REALLY gonna have to restrain myself for this section, cause if I put every single heart-bursting baby moment (especially after the FEAST we were delivered through the Netflix doc), I would never be able to finish this post. So I'm just gonna highlight a select few and keep my baby fever in check (and then mayhaps rewatch the entire documentary tonight lol whoops).

Our first real baby moment ever was Harry being so delirious with joy and nerves and just like, raw energy, after the birth of his first child (and then turning around after the big birthday media announcement to thank the horses in the stable behind him 😅).

A few days later, there was a particularly famous photo of Baby King Archie meeting some regal relatives or whatever, but in THIS photo, the two irrelevant old geezers are instead replaced by the new little prince's noble steeds, Guy and Pula. An iconic family photo. Outsold the original, if you ask me 😌

The news of their pregnancy with Lili was world-stopping for many reasons, but most famously it held a powerfully touching connection with the past. Apparently accidentally, Harry and Meghan announced they were expecting their second child exactly 37 years to the day after his mother, Diana, announced she was expecting him. Two extra-special Valentine's Days to remember.

And once again, as I said at the time, I am NOT someone who is particularly occupied with imagining the spirits of the departed watching over us, nor am I crazy about inserting the memory of Diana into discussions in which she has no agency. HOWEVER . . . who could stop the wave of emotions looking at this moment, as the grandbaby she never got to meet reaches out to her photo, through glass and time, trying to hold her hand. Bruv . . . 🥲 Even a motherfucking atheist can occasionally feel God in this Chili's tonight.

I don't even have anything to say about these next two, except to wonder with awe at the universal panacea that is baby snuggles. My absolute favorites:

And lastly, to wrap up this unbearably melty baby section, I have a moment that isn't really about the babies at all. In this video you can watch here, Easter 2021, we have Mama Doria, Meg (bursting at the seams with soon-to-be Lili), the little king himself, Sir Archie, his ever-loyal canine companions, and Harry -- who stands there, on the other side of surviving so, so much, and says almost under his breath, "Come on, family, let's go." And . . . yeah. That pretty much says it all 🥹

2. My Sussex Squad Origin Story

I'm going to keep this one short, cause I know what #1 is about to be and it's a doozy. But I wanted to briefly mention a moment in Harry and Meghan lore that will forever be the most special to me, because it is the one that sucked me into this here community I still haunt to this day.

October 2018. I have just recently managed to recover my old Tumblr password and logged into this site for the first time since middle school. I am scrolling the trending pages and see "Meghan Markle" listed among the top current tags. It says she's recently announced her first pregnancy. "Huh," I think. "I kinda remember hearing she got married." I've never willingly read or watched a single solitary piece of information about the royal family ever in my life. I don't even really know who's who, outside of the members immediately surrounding Diana. But I scroll through the Meghan tag, and I see she and her new prince are on tour. I see a photo. I read the headline attached.

Is that an actual tear spilling out from the corner of my eye? I stare at the tag for a few minutes more. What is wrong with me? Maybe I'll check this page again tomorrow, just to see what else they get up to on this tour. Couldn't hurt to learn a little bit more about this couple that literally stopped me in my tracks. I wipe the back of my hand across my burning eyes. "Well," I think as I try to bring myself back to what I was doing before. "That was weird."

Ha. Little did I freaking know :')

1. A Modern Fairy Tale

And now, to end this long-winded (and -awaited, sorry again >_<) journey, if you will allow me to get a little unbearably sappy.

When I set out to write this Part 2 post in 2023, I was doubtful. Could I even muster up that same enthusiasm, that same untrampled hope with which I beamed when I wrote the original? Harry, Meghan, the world, and I have all lived a thousand lives in these brief five years. There has been so, so, so much unspeakable pain. More than anyone has a right to suffer in a lifetime, let alone half a decade. "And for what?" I've sometimes asked myself. "What is the point in trying to love when there's all this pain that follows?"

This June, we will be coming up on the 10 year anniversary of my absolute favorite Internet meme of all time: Tim Kreider's legendary New York Times Op-Ed "I Know What You Think Of Me," which gifted human history with his startlingly sincere declaration, "If we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known."

Well, there is perhaps no one on the planet who has submitted herself to a more painful ordeal of being known than Meghan. She has bared to the world her vulnerabilities, her quirks, her flaws, her losses, her pains. To think of the life she has lived thus far, and the life that she walked away from to be here . . . I can't pretend that I've always been certain of the righteousness of her choice. But as I was working through writing this post, I reached a point in my research where I landed back on the speech Meghan delivered on the night of her wedding, shared in their Netflix documentary. And she told, as she called it, "a modern fairy tale."

“Once upon a time, there was a girl from LA (some people called her an actress) and there was a guy from London (some people called him a prince). All those people didn’t fully get it. Because this is a love story of a boy and a girl who were meant to be together.

“Amidst whatever momentary worries that creep in, they look at each other and think, ‘Whatever world, we’re in.’

“They would love, and garden, and travel, and laugh, and rack up more air miles than any couple could have.

“And when the tides were rough, they squeezed each other tighter. ‘Nothing can break us,’ they’d say, ‘For this love, she was a fighter.’

“I appreciate, respect, and honor you, my treasure, for the family we will create . . .

“ . . . And our love story that will last forever.

“So I ask you to raise a glass to the astounding assurance that now life begins, and the everlasting knowing that, above all, love wins.”

And so, here I am once again, with real actual tears streaming down my face, listening to a woman who has crossed so many oceans and lost so much of herself to get to where she's sitting today, and yet still, STILL, speaks with the same determination and conviction in love that she had all the way back at the beginning. They have taken so much from that woman, but they have not taken this. And so if Meghan, of all people, can still believe that love is worth it all . . . well, then, how could I possibly disagree?

Happy 5th anniversary to the lovebirds, and my heartfelt wish to you all that you may find victory in joy, love, and peace, just like them.

L'chaim 🥂