#it’s quite possible that I’ve lost the plot a while ago

[procrastiel]

I like to see Aziraphale and Crowley make love, but that’s because I’m human and this is the closest my little mind can get to the idea of what a divine union looks like.

I can’t quite imagine what it must be like to have your angelic bodies intertwine and flow into each other, but if I could, I’d imagine them doing that just as much.

#am I making any sense #it’s quite possible that I’ve lost the plot a while ago #Aziraphale #Crowley #ineffable lovers #good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale crowley kiss #aziraphale x crowley #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #crowzi #angel and demon #the concept of love #divine union #wings #i have things to say #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #ineffable soulmates

[propertyofhenrywinter]

Long live the walls we crashed through

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Summary: you are involved in a crash so horrid everyone assumes you couldn’t have survived.

WC: just under 2k

You honestly didn’t know what exactly had happened yourself. You remember when everyone was waiting for the rain to end, so the race could begin. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like the downfall was going to stop anytime soon. All drivers were instructed to wait on the starting grid, so you and Charles, who was starting P5 next to your P6, where keeping each other entertained by playing some stupid game involving a lot of hand gestures. “Okay, I’ve just received word they are going to try and start the race despite the wet conditions.” your engineer’s voice interrupts you while you here trying to gesture a horse to Charles. “What? In this weather? Are they sure?” What you really had wanted to ask if they were plotting to murder one of the drivers or if they were just plain stupid. You look over at Charles as you saw his body language change, you assumed he had just gotten a similar message. “They gave us some vague reasons about the fans waiting and keeping the fight for the championship as exciting as possible,” your engineer explained.

The race had started out boring, slow, and mainly wet. None of drivers really felt secure while driving so there were almost no overtakes, no battles for a better place, nothing to entertain fans. Not that you thought that mattered considering you were quite sure the track wasn’t even visible from the stands thanks to the rain. However, between lap 4 and 5 the conditions started to better and some battles emerged on the track and positions started changing. You had managed to overtake both Charles and George, leaving only a certain Aston Martin driver standing between you and a place on the podium. The weather was almost dry at that moment, but you didn’t realise, no, you were only focused beating Alonso and joining your boyfriend on the podium. (Because let’s be honest best-case scenario: he was first, again. Worst case? Second) What you also failed to notice was a red car behind you disappearing to pit for slicks, because his team was so sure it would stay dry.

Although what had occurred after happened in a blitz, you could still remember that part as well. The Ferrari driver had just joined the track again and was being separated from you by George, when suddenly, the rain came back. It didn’t start with a drizzle, no warning droplets, just from zero to one hundred faster than any f1 car could. You vision was now reduced to that of a senior mole, giving you indication about the location of the driver in front of you. Lucky for you, you were familiar with the track at this point, so you didn’t worry about crashing yourself, but an invisible man in front of you was plenty of worry. You could hear your radio turning on, but you never heard what your teams plan of action was.

Because unbeknownst to you Charles, his brand-new slicks, the rain, and a nasty sharp turn steered his car into the young Mercedes driver. It was only a slight, soft touch. Just a tick. A little nudge if you must name it. But in those bad conditions George started to spin. But before he had started to spin and before he had been touched by the Ferrari, he had shortened the distance between the two of you by quite a lot. So, when he spun it took less than three seconds to feel his car touch something again. Now this wasn’t a nudge this is where your memory gets a little hazy.

George’s car spun into you. You lost control as well. You went through a wall. You flipped upside down. The car broke in two. Fire. Lots of fire. You got out.

You got out. You don’t remember how you did it, but you lived, and you were standing next to the burning vehicle. Half in shock from what happened you couldn’t deter your eyes from the flames you were a part of moments ago. You stood there in complete stillness contrasting your team’s garage at the same time.

“Max please come in, red flag.” “Yeah, I thought I saw something in my mirrors. I saw some yellow tints. Was that fire? Is everybody OK?”  “Just come in, please, we’ll explain then.”

Max jumped out of his car once he reached his team garage, where it was unusually quiet. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell me over the radio?” Max already started asking his questions before he had even pulled his balaclava all the way off, so his words sounded more like scrambled mumbles. Not that it really mattered; his team knew what he wanted to know. “Wait, why did only I get called in?” he asked once he noticed your car wasn’t on the other side of the garage, where it usually would be if you had to wait out a red flag. Max averted his gaze from the empty spot to the mechanics, who gave each other looks as if to say “I’m not saying it. You do it.” “Max,” he heard Horner trying to catch his attention. Normally the presence of the team principal would make him wonder what was bad enough that he had to intervene himself instead of sending someone else to deal whit whatever the issue was. Right then, however, he didn’t have to wonder. His eyes had caught the screens behind the engineers displaying a view of the track. This wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary if it wasn’t for your car. Specifically, the back side of your car; he couldn’t see the front, but he assumed it must have gone through the barrier. “Along with you,” he couldn’t stop himself from thinking. Due to the fire, he couldn’t see or estimate the severity of the crash, but it did not look good. “You have her vitals, right?” he asked Horner, who had been tuning out ‘til now. “Well,” the principal began. “You’ve talked to her through the radio. Please. Tell me you know she’s alright.” Max said more as a question. At the lack of response his head started spinning. “We haven’t been able to contact her yet. No input about her vitals has come in since the crash.” Max stopped listening after that and just bolted to his driver’s room. Shutting the door behind himself, he was glad none of his team members tried to follow or stop him. Tears were already forming in his eyes while he turned on the small tv to be able to check on any updates regarding your crash.

Meanwhile you were already on your way to the team’s garage. You were surprised that no reporters intercept you on your way there, but you figured they were just focused on the crash site. You knew you should’ve gone to the medical centre first, but you felt fine and cared more to let everyone know you were alright. As you made your way trough the paddock, you start to wonder if people knew you got out of the car. They didn’t, you had no way of knowing this of course but at that time fire marshals were busy putting the fire out.

Max was watching them on the screen in his room, trying not to think about you in there. He almost threw up at the idea that you were still in there and that you might never come out, or that you might already be gone. He really didn’t want to, but he just couldn’t stop his mind frow straying to thought about waking up without you beside him, having dinner alone, never getting to complain about your shoes lying in the middle of the hallway again. His thoughts were about to make him physically sick when there was a nock on the door. He really didn’t want to be disturbed so he didn’t even bother responding. Another few nocks got ignored until he got fed up and shouted, “Leave me alone.” His request however got denied as a male voice sounded from the other side of the door. “We have an… update on the crash.” Max recognized the voice as one of the mechanics who was in the garage earlier. Although he was pissed off that he hadn’t been left to sulk in his misery alone, he was intrigued by the news, since there had been no new information shared on the broadcast he had been following on his TV. He also got scared, considering it was most likely that whatever it was it wouldn’t be good.

You were chatting to a still slightly worried Horner when you heard someone rapidly approaching you. You turn your head to see Max walking towards you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Hi,” you said softly right before he reached you. When he did, he just looked at you for a split second and then pulled you in his arms. He put is head in the crook of your neck, pulling you up to your tippy toes to reach it, and held his arms so tight around you that you believed it would leave a permanent indentation in your ribcage. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” you suggested, suddenly feeling the eyes of everyone around you burning in your back. “Okay.” Max said before almost dragging you into your driver’s room, considering it was a little closer by than his. He shut the door behind you and was back beside you before you could even bat an eye. “Are you alright?” he asks as he takes your face in both his hands. “I’m fine.” You pull one of his hands away from your face and just hold it. “You really scared me,” he said right before he pulled you in for a hug. “Well, I didn’t mean to,” you respond. “Just don’t ever do that again,” he says while he starts placing soft kisses on your face and head. “Wasn’t planning on it,” you scoff before pulling him in for a real kiss. You two stand there for a while, just holding each other, before you decide to rejoin the paddock.

“For a moment I really thought I killed you,” George confesses. Every knew you survived the seemingly survivable crash and the mood throughout the whole track was a lot less heavy than it had been a few minutes before. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that. Even if something worse would’ve happened I wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for a single second,” you explain. “It’s a risk we all take every time we get into that car and we’re all very much aware of it,” you add. “And it isn’t like I could leave anyway,” you smile. “why’s that?” George asks. “I mean who would play gestures with Charles before the races?” you look over at Charles before getting cut off by your boyfriend’s voice. “It’s not our fault you two won’t explain your made-up game to anyone else,” he protests. In response you and Charles give him a universal recognized obscene gesture while laughing to yourselves. While the conversation takes another turn you take some time realizing how lucky you are; not just for surviving the crash but for the amazing life you had. You wrap your arms around Max and lean you head against his upper body. “What is this for?” he asks but wastes no time in returning the gesture also wrapping his arms around you. “Do I need a reason to show I love boyfriend al of a sudden?” you playfully say. Max just smiles and says, “I love you too.”

Part 2

AN: So, this was my first ever fanfic so fee back and corrections are more than welcome. Also, I do have an idea for a part two so lmk if you would like that.

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff

[ovaryacted]

FEELING THE VIBE

PAIRING: ID!Leon x fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: After taking some inspiration from a magazine's sex story column, you and your boyfriend indulge in reenacting one of your new fantasies.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Porn without plot. Oral (fem receiving). Body Worship. Overstimulation. Sex Toys. Sensory Depravation: Bondage & Blindfolding. Squirting. Multiple Orgasms. Dirty Talk. Praise. Domestication themes. Established relationship. Just Leon being a loving horny freak.

WC: 4.9k

NOTES: Finally after a little break, I have returned. This is the 3rd installment of my Kinktober (yes it's November I know), and it took a while for me to write this, but it's done. I was inspired by an erotic audio I heard a while back so I took a jab at it and made it my own. Sorry if it is a bit long, I tried to condense it but you can only fit so many words when writing out multiple orgasms. Anyway, you know the drill, I hope you like it, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

《 Kinktober Masterlist 2023 ⟡ Main Masterlist 》

“I want to try something”

Your voice cut through the comforting silence of your living room, body shifting on the couch from where you sat. As your head remained pressed against soft cotton and muscle, your lover tilted his face to look down towards you.

“Don’t know if I should be excited or scared”, that got Leon a playful slap on the shoulder and a roll of your eyes, making him chuckle in the process.

“Lay it on me then sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”, he watched as you nervously bit your lip, sitting up to face him directly.

“Do you remember that magazine from a week ago? The one you snatched from me?”, you told him, and his mind flashed back to the faint memory of the interaction.

-

“And what’s this?”, Leon only grinned as he took the Cosmopolitan magazine from your hands after you flipped to the next page. He moved towards the kitchen, laughing as you chased him to get your precious publication back.

“Ooooo, top 10 sex stories hmm? So this is what you’ve been reading?”

“Leon quit playing! Give it back!”, you tried to snatch it from him but you knew it was futile. The moment his eyes scanned the page you were on, you could tell you lost the battle. 

“Me and my husband have been together for 6 years now and decided to spice things up in the bedroom. We did some research on things we could try and found out about sensory deprivation and overstimulation. That was something a bit trendy and I was intrigued, and I could speak for a few people who like me read Cosmopolitan for sex help so I decided to do some research. How kinky…”, you wanted to wipe the smirk clean off his face as he read the story you were skimming through. He took a second to look at you, and then back to the page as he continued reading it in his signature sarcastic tone.

“Over the weekend, after some wine we got in the mood and we tried out a few things. He tied me to the bed and blindfolded me while using one of my toys on me, which was all so new to us. I’ve never felt anything like that before, didn’t even know it was possible for me to cum so many times. I loved it, and my husband loved it probably a little too much because now he’s borderline obsessed with me. Thank you for all the work you do with your sex tips, you just made my marriage more fun, closing the orgasm gap one couple at a time. Much love!”, Leon finished reading the page, snickering when you finally grabbed it from him. “Wasn’t that something. You really read stuff like that?”

“No, I don’t. It just popped up on the page alright…”, your blush couldn’t be missed no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, and Leon only wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“If you wanted to try something new, all you had to do was tell me you know? It sounds like fun”, he teased at the suggestion, not making a big deal out of the idea of trying new things in the bedroom, but you knew he had your best interests in mind.

“You mean that?”, embarrassment aside, you looked at him, blue eyes full of sincerity. “I was just curious, and I was nervous to mention it I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to be nervous about anything, I’m not one to judge your fantasies anyway. You have them, I have them, everyone does. Whatever you want to do, no matter how crazy it seems, you tell me. I just want to make you happy”, Leon reassured you once more, holding your chin and giving you a soft kiss on the lips with a smile. “So go read more of your sex magazine, I’m going to start cooking”

“It is not just a sex magazine you know”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say”

-

“The one with the sex stories? Yeah, why?”, his voice brought you to the present once more, back to where you both sat on the couch.

“That one story you read out loud, I want to try that”, you felt your cheeks get warm at the change in topic. The gears in Leon’s head started to turn, his mind catching up to understand what you meant.

“Oh…oh. Like right now?”, he watched as you moved closer to him, your hands going from his chest to caress the hair at the back of his neck.

“Yes, right now. I’m bored, and I want you to entertain me. Please?”, your face hovered over his, the ends of your noises touching lightly.

“Well when you ask so nicely, how could I say no to you”, he gave you exactly what you wanted and kissed you. His hands were on your hips, bringing you towards his lap and wrapping your legs around his body.

With ease, he lifted you from the couch, smiling against your lips as you released a giggle. His fingers dug into the bottom of your thighs, walking towards your shared bedroom and plopping you onto the mattress. He couldn’t help himself as he stole more kisses from you, the growing stubble on his chin rubbing against your face. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, wanting to bring him closer to you if that were possible.

Pulling away from you, he grew more handsy, taking off your loungewear and keeping your underwear on while you removed his shirt in the process, his sweats hanging low on his hips. No matter how many times you got him like this, you never got tired of the view.

“You know, ever since I read that little column I did some shopping”, Leon said, moving away from you to dig through the closet for something. You sat up on your elbows, observing him walk back with a blindfold and a pair of fuzzy-lined handcuffs. Your eyebrows raised at him, not knowing what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Did you buy this stuff?”, you chuckled nervously, making Leon laugh with you.

“I mean yeah, I wanted to be prepared”, you almost snorted at the thought of your boyfriend being so attentive he did his own research to fulfill your experiences. If only you knew the lengths he went to type in BDSM toys on his phone when you weren’t paying attention.

“You’re such a dork”, you shook your head, bringing him back down to kiss him again in appreciation. “But it’s cute”

“I try to be. You still want to try this?”, he eyed your face carefully, making sure there weren’t any doubts in wanting to engage in your fantasy.

“Yeah, I do. Do you want to? This shouldn’t be just about me you know”

“Whatever gets you off gets me off, you know that. Now, enjoy my face one more time, you won’t be seeing it for a bit”

Leon brought the blindfold towards your eyes, tying it snugly behind your head as the soft material covered you, forcing you into a pit of darkness. It wasn’t uncomfortable, by any means, it was the complete opposite. The fact that you couldn’t see anything and had to rely on Leon’s voice was enough to make the hairs on your arms stand up.

“How’s that? Not uncomy or anything?”, you heard Leon speak, making you nod and release an airy exhale.

“Yeah, it’s good. I don’t see anything”

“Good. Arms up honey, I ain’t done yet”, that command sent a shiver down your spine, and you followed his directions instantly.

Laying down on the bed and lifting your arms above your head, you felt the bed shift as Leon got on his knees. The soft material of the lined handcuffs wrapped around your wrists, and you heard the soft click of them locking in place between the wooden bars of the headboard. They were tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to slip out of them, but comfortable so they didn’t leave marks on your skin.

Not that you would’ve minded that.

“How about now?”, your head moved towards the sound of Leon’s voice again, the added constraint of not being able to see or touch him made your heart rate spike.

“Still good, kinda sad I can’t touch or see you”, you pouted when you said that, getting another chuckle out of Leon. The sound alone warmed up your body, and your imagination began to run wild at what he had in store for you.

“I remember the magazine said they used toys, and I know you have a few. You still want me to use one on you?”, the prospect of Leon using whatever you had tucked away in your bedside drawer made your core ache.

“Yeah, you can use one”, your voice got the slightest bit more breathless, and you could swear you envisioned him smiling. 

“I won’t tell you which one I use, but I’ll leave it up to you to figure it out”

You heard shuffling towards your left and the sound of a drawer opening, blushing as Leon looked at your cluster of toys. He wasn’t an idiot, knowing full well you had to handle your own needs when he was gone for days to weeks at a time on missions or being held up in D.C. But seeing them all up close, some that he’s personally gotten for you, left him almost stunned at your ever-growing collection.

“Eennie…meenie…miny…moe”, Leon counted off, shaking your head in disbelief at how he still managed to find the time to be humorous. You felt the mattress dip again, signaling that he was back on the bed, at least that was how you imagined it anyway.

Rough fingertips skimmed over your bare thigh, followed by you taking a shaky breath at the touch. It wasn’t unexpected, but you felt your other senses going into overdrive with your loss of sight. Leon’s fingers moved from grazing your thigh, up your lower stomach and towards your chest. He skated across one of your nipples, making you gasp out and crave more with the slightest arch of your back.

“Somebody’s sensitive”

“Shut up and quit teasing”, your eyebrows furrowed in irritation at him, growing impatient at how he was toying with you.

“Feisty too. Do you really want to say that when you’re like this? You asked me to do this baby”, he was mocking you now, finding enjoyment in your predicament.

You didn’t have a second to complain more when Leon’s lips were on yours again, groaning in his mouth as he forced it open with his own. The tip of his tongue lined your bottom lip, and you happily opened up so he could slip it inside.

Your tongue caressed his, submitting to the attention while his hands went to squeeze at your breasts. He groped and kneaded, his thumb and pointer finger pinching your nipples and swallowing the moans you made. Drawing away from you, he watched how you chased his lips and your wrists yanked on the handcuffs in an attempt to reach out to him.

“You look so pretty like this, all tied up for me to play with”, your ears perked up at the way Leon’s voice dropped an octave, knowing that he was getting into it as much as you were.

His lips were on your neck, kissing wherever he could while he kept your hips pinned to the bed with one hand. You felt his stubble rubbing against you as he continued on his path, sucking at your collarbone and leaving faint marks for you to cover with concealer the next morning. Moving towards your left breast, he popped your neglected nipple in his mouth. You cursed loudly at the feel, pulling on the handcuffs again as you desired to run your fingers through his hair knowing you couldn’t.

Leon hummed against your skin, tongue lavishing the hardened nub and touching the other absentmindedly. His head moved to suck at the other nipple, giving it the same attention and mouthing at it loudly so you could hear his suckling. Giving you one harsh bite on your chest he blew on the wet skin, your thighs twitching as he did.

More wet kisses followed in between the valley of your breasts, down to your lower stomach, and over your navel. His mouth trailed over the waistband of your panties, dragging down one side of it until your bare hip was shown to him, nipping at the skin. You whimpered under him when he slipped the offending material down your legs and flung it to God knows where. Your legs parted for him instinctively, much to Leon’s enjoyment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want. Let me have my fun”, his lips ghosted your right thigh, starting from the inner crease of your hip and down to the side of your knee. He didn’t stop his kissing, shifting down to your ankle before going up on the other leg. Your breathing was labored by the time he reached your other hip, fingers curling around your thigh to spread you open for him.

You yelped when he placed a soft kiss on your clit, hips shooting towards his direction for more despite being pinned down. He hummed at your reaction, kissing around where you needed him most but never giving you more than what he decided was enough.

“Leon please…”, you pulled at the handcuffs again, the sound of metal rattled against the headboard you were bound to.

“My needy baby”, he huffed a breath, tilting his head to give your twitching nub a good suck. You threw your head back at the sensation, wishing he would give you more but he moved away before you were satisfied. Already growing frustrated with him, you lamented when you couldn’t feel his face against you anymore, your head dropping on the pillow and pondering what he would do next.

That was when you heard it, the soft buzzing that began to fill the walls of your bedroom. He had one of your toys in his hands and the mystery of not knowing which one added to the appeal of this entire dynamic.

“Open up your legs for me, I’ll make you feel good”, Leon’s promise filtered through your ears, and you followed through, bending your legs at the knee and spreading them more.

The first sensation of the vibrator against your clit made you jerk up, taking a second to let your body adjust to it. Your mind was trying to focus on which one of your toys Leon picked out, and from the way he pressed it more onto your body, it had to be the dual vibrator you liked to use the most for its two attachments. Smartass.

You pushed your hips out towards the toy, chasing the feeling as it filled your body with pleasure. Softly humming at the consistent pattern Leon chose, he let you grind towards him for more. Although you couldn’t see him, you knew he was watching you, taking in the way you shuddered when he angled the smaller tip just the way you liked.

“That feel good?”, you nodded, beginning to feel the vibrations take over your body slowly.

“Let me take it up a notch”

Your lower stomach did flips when Leon increased the intensity of the toy, your back curving off the bed with a cry. The sounds of the vibrator grew louder, paired with the lewd wetness that got worse as it started to seep out of you. Strong hands wrapped around your thigh again, keeping you spread open as you fought the urge to close them from the added onslaught on your body.

The prior teasing left you worked up the moment you hit the mattress, and you could feel your first orgasm bubbling in your gut. Leon saw it too, pressing the toy harder on your clit and moving it up and down against the wet skin, mimicking the way his tongue would stroke you. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, your face turning in hopes of getting a kiss but he opted out to whisper in your ear instead.

“Come on baby, I know you’re close. Give it to me. Be a good girl and cum for me”

It was an easy request, the rubberband of tension snapping harshly as your first release washed over you. You moaned loudly, pulling against the handcuffs again and digging your nails into your palm. Leon praised you along the way, talking you through it to make up for your loss of sight. You half expected him to take the wand off your body and leave it at that, but he didn’t stop. Another pathetic whine slipped out of you, realizing he wasn’t going to give you a break and planned on pushing you to the limit.

“That’s one. You can give me another right?”, it was a question of reassurance, but you couldn’t tell him to stop even if you wanted to. 

The waves of pleasure lingered in your body and the vibrations continued, your breath hitching as you didn’t get a moment to breathe. Cumming more than once wasn’t new to your sex life, hell it became essential once you and Leon met and started messing around. But having no pause in what was being done to you was fairly new, and you started to think you bit off more than you could chew when asking for this.

But this was what you signed up for, and you were going to enjoy every second of it.

“F-Fuck, yeah. Just please, please…”, you wantonly replied to him, giving him full control to do whatever he wanted, so long as it left you satisfied.

Leon flicked his wrist then, repositioning the other end of the vibrating toy against your entrance and nudging your outer lips. You clenched around nothing, yearning for the emptiness to be filled with something, anything you could get.

“Yeah, I know your pretty pussy wants to be filled up. I’ll give you what you need”, Leon’s voice grew husky, biting his lower lip and feeling his cock throb in his sweatpants.

He fulfilled his promise, slowly inserting the second bulbous silicone tip into your body. You tugged at the handcuffs harshly, a loud sob falling from your lips at how your drooling canal wrapped around the toy snugly. It was as if your entire body was vibrating now, not being able to escape the dual sensation of your clit and g-spot being stimulated at the same time. 

“That’s it sweetheart, that’s it”, Leon was enjoying this too much, maintaining the same level of intensity with the toy and starting to thrust it at an even tempo.

You felt hot to the touch, getting closer to elation with every electric beat that filled your limbs. Loud moaning was exchanged for choked breaths, your head lolling to one side of the pillow and trying to stay grounded. The familiar coil wrapped tighter around you, bucking your hips towards Leon’s hands as if it were instinct. You whimpered again, the rhythm of the toy’s pulsing getting stronger with a single press of a button.

“Shit, shit, L-Leon please…”, you started to get scared at the intensity of your second release, the speed of how it crept up on you taking you off guard. 

“I know baby, I know. Cum for me again, I know you can”, he encouraged you once more, upping the voltage on the toy to the max setting and watching hungrily at your squirming figure.

One more drive inside you was all it took for you to seize up, a noisy wail emitting from your throat as you came around the toy. Your climax was damn near violent, liquid fire filling your gut and spilling out underneath you. Your mind reached a state of nirvana you never touched before, ears ringing and an all-consuming shock rippling from your feet up to the top of your head. You were so out of it you couldn’t feel the way your fluids drenched the sheets below, instead leaving it to Leon to watch it all happen.

The only thing keeping you grounded to the mattress was a large hand on your hip, squeezing in an attempt to soothe your trembling thighs. You felt like you were floating, intense relief paired with a desperate need for more you couldn’t explain. On the next inhale, the toy was turned off and carefully pulled out of you, leaving your hole dripping and convulsing.

“I didn’t know you could do that”, you heard Leon say again, struggling to slow your heartbeat that pounded in your chest.

“What do you mean?”, you asked quizzically, your eyesight growing blurry when the blindfold was taken off your head. Your pupils focused on the blonde’s face, noticing how he looked at you in awe.

“You just squirted all over the bed”, you felt your cheeks turn red, embarrassed as you felt the way your entire lower half went numb, the ghost of the vibrations still running over you. He didn’t give you the chance to wallow in your shame, his voice running through the reeling mess of your mind.

“Want to watch you do it again”, he purred at you with a grin, moving down your body and lifting your legs onto his shoulders. 

Leon’s head was in between your legs, lapping away at your folds and groaning at the sweetness of you filling his tongue. He was messy with it, audibly sucking everything you had to give and all you could do was take it. His warm tongue flicked at your oversensitive clit, having to dig your face into your forearm to stop yourself from shouting. The handcuffs clinked above you from where you were stuck to the headboard, your nails leaving indents in your skin.

“Leon I c-can’t. It’s too much”, you mewled when Leon gave you a harsher suck, his fingers teasing your pussy, still hot and wanting more despite your words.

“You can give me another one, don’t play with me”, he growled at you, slipping two thick fingers inside you and curling against that spot tucked at the roof of your body.

“Your needy cunt isn’t telling me no, and I’m not stopping until you squirt for me again. I know you can”, he marveled at the lack of resistance as he burrowed his fingers deep inside you, going back to lick at your clit.

He was greedy in the way he feasted on you, licking at you in precise circles as the tips of his fingers jabbed at your g-spot consistently. Every sound that came out of your mouth was broken, whining every time he drew his digits out just to push back into you. Slyly, he switched techniques, curling his fingers against the textured spot inside you and sucking at your clit in pulses, pressing a hand against your lower stomach.

The pit of flames was lit again, static filling your body and your sight becoming bleary with tears. You couldn’t stop the internal carnal heat from growing, the same sharp feeling from your last release being renewed with every pump of Leon’s fingers. It was too much too quickly, your face growing flushed and losing sense of reality the closer you got to the edge.

“Please, Leon I-”, you didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore, needing both more and less at the same time and not knowing which one you preferred.

“Soak my fucking face baby. Do it so I can fuck you. C’mon, give it to me, I need it”

His words were the last nails in the coffin, your face twisting in a silent scream of pure bliss. You felt like you were being engulfed in flames as your third release in 15 minutes swallowed you whole, an out-of-body experience that didn’t seem to stop. It was as if you were tumbling over a high that never crashed, not knowing where the first climax ended or the next one began. All the energy you had left was sucked completely out of you quite literally, your eardrums rang and your legs wouldn’t stop quivering against the bed. 

Leon’s head appeared from between your legs with the widest grin you had ever seen on him. His lips were plump, and the stubble that adorned his jaw was covered in your wetness. You were too dazed to pay close attention to the way he licked at his lips, chasing the remaining flavor of you.

“You want a taste too?”, he said, grabbing your jaw and kissing you sloppily. He made sure to let your mouth fill with the tanginess that he familiarly recognized as your essence, the both of you panting as your tongues meshed together.

“Let me fuck you, please”, Leon almost begged for it, sweats halfway down his thighs and his cock already positioned against you. Weakly, you nodded, not even bothering to lift your head when he slid deep inside you so smoothly.

“Fuuckkk, you’re soaked, so goddamn warm”, he was mumbling under his breath, chasing his own pleasure and using your body for it. You were more than willing, not being able to do much of anything but just take it.

Leon didn’t hold back in the slightest, pounding into your body while your hands remained above your head. His hands held on to your thighs, hips smacking into yours harshly with every shove of his dick inside you. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, body growing limp, and the pleasure evolved as you tipped between the edge of overstimulation and pain. You desperately wanted to touch him, to feel him pressed against you, but you could only take what was given to you.

Lightbulbs went off in Leon’s head, grabbing the tossed toy from the side of the bed and turning it back on. He pressed it against your clit once more, a rough grumble coming from deep within his chest as he felt the vibrations filling his body. You cried out, the handcuffs rattling above your head as your body felt like it was being pushed beyond what you thought was possible. Tears ran down your flushed cheeks, Leon not giving you a moment to adjust and losing himself in his insurgency to feel you cum around him.

“I can’t, I c-can’t”, you were begging for mercy, knowing full well Leon wouldn’t give it to you until you fell over the edge one more time.

“One more. Give me one more sweetheart, and I’ll stop. Need to feel you cum for me one more time, I got you baby, I got you”, he was like a man possessed, fucking you in a reckless frenzy as you tightened around him.

You didn’t know if you had it in you to cum again, but Leon was persistent as always. He upped the speed on the vibrator, pressing it harder against your oversensitive nub up and down like he did before. It was too extreme, making you choke on air and your throat grow raw from the sounds that will end up giving you a noise complaint. 

The next moment your nerves short-circuited and your mind went blank, your fourth climax pummeling through you so aggressively you couldn’t contain the scream that came out of you. It was the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had in your life, reaching the point of pain from the oversensitivity, and your lower stomach cramped from the force of it. You didn’t hear Leon when he praised you again, his voice sounding distant and far away as black spots filled your vision.

He filled your cunt with his hot seed right after, bottoming inside you until he couldn’t get any deeper. Turning the toy off completely and reaching up to undo the handcuffs, he was gentle in touching you again. A part of him was ready to beg for forgiveness, for pushing you too hard and getting carried away. But those thoughts dispelled from his mind when your arms weakly wrapped around his shoulders, silently relieved you didn’t black out on him.

“I don’t think I can move”, your voice cracked when you talked, stray tears lining your eyes and he wiped at your cheeks. You were trembling underneath him, your legs quaked despite not being able to move them. Your body felt heavy, like it was sinking into the mattress, but you’ve never experienced such profound pleasure it left you immobilized.

“Sorry about that. You did so good for me, so damn good. Did you like that?”, he whispered into your neck, kissing your skin as you nodded, both starting to come down from your respective highs.

He hadn’t slipped out yet, just letting the both of you bask in the afterglow of this new experience. Had he known he could make you feel this good, he would’ve tried this a long time ago.

“We should do this again”

“Oh we are. I gotta break my record of making you cum four times”, you hit him on the shoulder again, aware that his words were half serious. Meanwhile, he was already plotting in his head how he could make you reach numbers five and six.

“So does this mean you’re going to keep doing your research on my sex stories?”, he lifted his head to look at you, a smirk already on his face.

“That depends. Which ones do you want to try next?”

©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

taglist: @roseglazedlens @kennedyswhore @httpsvix @daydreamrot @dmitriene @scar-crossedlvrs @valsthea

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil imagines #resident evil fanfic #resident evil smut #id!leon kennedy #resident evil leon kennedy #ovaryacted fics #ovaryacted kinktober #kinktober 2023 #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

[gremoria411]

Gundam Build Metaverse then, now that I’ve finished watching it.

Well, that was shit.

That’s kind of my opinion in a nutshell, but unlike Gundam Breaker Battlogue, I actually want to talk about this one. I’ve mentioned previously that I hold up Build Divers as an example of what I don’t want to see, but while Build Metaverse shares some flaws, it’s a whole new level of failure.

I do want to acknowledge beforehand though that, as with the rest of the build series, Gundam Build Metaverse is aimed at a younger audience and is pretty blatant about its intention to sell toys. Perhaps this precludes it being seriously analysed as a work of entertainment. However, I quite like the original Build Fighters series so I at least want to compare it to that. Gundam Build Metaverse also has the air of: “we’re not doing anything else with this series, ever” about it, simply because it’s almost a reunion of prior characters from the series. As such, I’d like to consider it as the end of the series (because I likely won’t watch any future instalments).

Alright so, the plot as it is; Rio Hojo is joining the Gundam Metaverse in Hawaii and wants to impress his mentor, Seira Urutsuki. Unfortunately she’s sworn off Gundam Metaverse due to a falling out with her sister Maria, in which her Maria used her Gunpla parts without permission in a battle and still lost, revealing her insecurities about not being as good as her sister in the process. Rio eventually challenges Maria and defeats her, healing the rift between the sisters. Along the way Rio meets and interacts with past series protagonists and characters. It’s about as insipid as it sounds.

I want to specifically focus on Maria, the antagonist, because the reveal of her motivation was essentially the point I realised it wasn’t going to get better. The usage of somebody’s Gunpla parts without permission is exactly as dumb of a motivation as it sounds, but the feelings of inadequacy actually has some weight to it, since it’s the sort of topic Build Fighters has touched on before. What bothers me about Maria is that she presents this cool, unbothered persona for her early encounters, but the second Rio mentions her sister, she basically has a breakdown with zero prompting. Over an event that happened two years ago. But wait! It’s typical Gundam protagonist style to talk female foes in giant mobile suits (Maria’s Typhoeus Gundam even incorporates psycho Gundam Mk-II parts), surely Rio can get through! And what does he say?

“But you kept buying the toys, right?”

Real classy there Hojo. And this actually works too, so it just underlines how stupid this entire conflict was.

It bothers me more, because in the original Build Fighters, Aila Jyrkäinen was essentially being forced to compete against her will due to her extraordinary abilities in the field, so Reiji helping her escape that had actual meaning and stakes. But Maria’s grievances are so stupid that it’s just meaningless, moreso that she’s apparently been holding onto this for two years.

Unrelated point, but everyone’s the same age in this, despite the fact that time was pretty clearly established to have passed in the older series. It’s possible that everyone’s using younger avatars for some reason, but both Reiji and Aila show up in crowd scenes set in the real world with their original designs, despite being established as having a child together. I know no-one really cares about chronology in the build series (myself included), but it’s still notable.

There’s two new designs I haven’t discussed yet that I also want to talk about;

First, the Gundam Typhoeus.

I like the Raphael Gundam, I think it’s a nice unit, but the Typhoeus is just grossly overbuilt. I’m used to the build series having gigantic mobile armours to communicate a sense of threat, but when the Typhoeus showed up I genuinely thought “How the fuck is that legal?” It just one-shots three suits with zero effort. I don’t really like designs that are just a bunch of weapons and systems crammed on to make something appear strong, and the Typhoeus is undeniably that. I understand that its model kit gives it a proper loadout when its just in its mobile suit form, but the additional armour is just unnecessary.

The Amazing Barbatos Lupus. As a design, I kinda like it. It’s a reasonably solid update to the Barbatos Lupus and I like how the backpack resembles a Pluma (or indeed, a mini-Hashmal). The mace also reminds me of the shot lancers from Gundam F91, so it feels like a natural “fit”. The new horns are also lovely. My only real criticism of the design is that I feel more could have been done to make it feel “Amazing” - the legs and front skirt for example, are pretty much unchanged. The shoulders I mind less, since the backpack compensates for their plainness, but the lower half just feels lacking.

However, I feel it had a very poor showing in series.

Part of this is because of a wider issue - while the Typhoeus and Maria are very well-animated, the rest of the series seems to have a very limited budget for animation. Many of the fights were short and I spotted instances of recycled animation. Even the first episode with the 00 Diver Arc, which I would say is the best fight in the series (though that isn’t saying much) feels distinctly wooden. I don’t rate the fights, in a nutshell. Furthermore, despite me gushing over Mask Lady’s design last time, we never get to see her properly animated - she’s in two cockpit scenes, largely static, and another where we only see her head and shoulders. It’s a shame.

But the Amazing Barbatos Lupus seems to have been designed to get around this. It’s virtually always seen in static poses - the only time it’s shown to attack is raising its mace and shooting (allowing the rest of the suit to remain still) or firing a beam cannon out of its mace (while the rest of the suit moves in a single pose). So I’m just thinking this the whole time:

So the Barbatos, a suit defined by its approach to melee combat, just flies about shooting a beam cannon out of its mace. The only dynamic shot it actually has is when it pulls out it’s claws to fight Kyoya Kujo, a fight which we do not see. Speaking of Kyoya Kujo, it’s built up that Meijin Kawaguchi III is finally going to have a climactic battle with Sei and Reiji, then Kyoya (who is, and always has been a nothing character) just shows up out of nowhere to challenge him and prevent the fight (to save them having to animate it, presumably).

Speaking of Nothing Characters, basically every returning character’s bereft of personality in this. They’re just here “to fight”. There’s no motivation or anything, they just want to fight in the Gundam Metaverse. So they feel like cardboard cut-outs. (For the record, I liked Magee in Build Divers, but in this they’re just…. Stereotypical? I think?). Speaking of a cast of cardboard, pretty much all the female characters get pushed aside in this. I’m not going to dwell on it, since I don’t find it surprising given the shows demographic, but none of the female characters are shown with any agency, they lose pretty much every fight they’re in and Maria ascends to the title of “Lady Kawaguchi VII”. So, the seventh Lady Kawaguchi, despite no-one having dethroned Meijin Kawaguchi III in all this time, you’re telling me there’s been six Lady Kawaguchi’s? Almost like the position’s disposable? (You could maybe say Gyanko’s an exception to losing every fight, but that feels like grasping at straws, since she’s barely a cameo).

Gundam Build Metaverse - a show that really wants you to be excited for the Metaverse, and has a plot almost as sufferance.

I feel like the fact that my highlight of the show was seeing 0.3 seconds of the Schuzrum Gallus probably illustrates how little I liked this show.

EDIT: I somehow made this entire post without remembering the name of the series protagonist, Rio Hojo. Instead, I mixed him up with Wistario Afram, the protagonist of Urdr Hunt. So yeah, the protagonist is pretty forgettable, because I literally forgot him.

#I have other complaints about Rio but these will do #gundam build metaverse #Rio Hojo #Meijin Kawaguchi III #Lady Kawaguchi #Gundam Typhoeus #Gundam Amazing Barbatos Lupus #Gundam #ramblings #irksome things #I liked the teeny tiny Gundam Astaroth Origin too

[frozenbound]

Hello!!! Hope you are well. I’ve been enjoying reading your Shimadacest collection series and wanted to do a request!!! Could you do one with Genji/Cole. Cole and Hanzo are freshly married and hanzo takes him the to their estate. Introduces him to his family. There Genji offers to give Cole a tour. While Hanzo and his dad talk. Cole and Genji are in the other side of the estate where no one will hear them. Having hardcore primal sex all over the place. Marathoning in different rooms. Living rooms, balcony’s etc with lots of dirty talk without the other two knowing.

Again, love your work!!! Keep it up!!! 💖💖💖

Thanks so much for the request!! I love the idea of Cole "falling off the wagon" almost immediately, but it also took a little finagling to get him to agree, LOOOL, so this one's a little bit longer and more plot-heavy. I hope that's all right!

Thanks again so much for the request! Newlywed Cole cheating with Genji, coming right up under the Read More!

TW: cheating, infidelity

Cole whistled softly when Shimada Castle came into view. “Ho lee shit,” he breathed, looking through the car window as it started to make its way up the hillside, the lofty and beautiful lines of the fortress drawing his eye higher and higher. “Pictures don’t do it any justice, darling.”

“No,” Hanzo agreed with a smile as he watched his new husband’s face. “It must be seen to be truly appreciated.”

Cole squeezed Hanzo’s hand for what was probably the hundredth time since they had gotten into the car. Since the wedding they had only let go of each other maybe, oh, a dozen times or so, and only when absolutely necessary, which was quite the feat considering they had already completed the first half of their honeymoon, a perfect fourteen days spent on pristine beaches and lounging in the shade of palm trees and outdoor bars while completely lost in each other, the most picturesque way to complete their nuptials that Cole could ever have imagined.

Now it was time for the second half of their honeymoon…though whether it would even count as part of it was up for debate.

Technically, they were visiting Hanzo’s father and brother as a way to celebrate their wedding and to welcome Cole into the family.

Realistically, though, as Hanzo had mournfully informed Cole months ago when they had made their engagement public, this was an excuse for Hanzo’s father to try once again to re-engage Hanzo in the family business and, failing that, to at least pick his brain for ideas and advice.

There was a certain amount of pride that someone as intelligent and influential as Shimada Sojiro thought so highly of Hanzo, but unfortunately he tended to be somewhat…monopolizing. 

If, if they agreed to visit, Hanzo had told Cole all those months ago, then Cole probably wouldn’t see Hanzo except at breakfast and dinner. No matter how much Hanzo insisted, Sojiro would fill up his time with business meetings and conferences and briefings that would keep Hanzo occupied literally from the crack of dawn until long after sunset.

It was Cole who had insisted they go anyway. This was simply Sojiro’s way of interacting and connecting with his eldest child, and Hanzo couldn’t hide the fact that he enjoyed the time he spent with his father…in small-enough doses. Hanzo had moved to the other side of the planet to be sure of those small doses, far enough away that even someone of Sojiro’s stature couldn’t dictate Hanzo’s every move, allowing father and son to continue building their empire together without completely suffocating Hanzo, and allowing Hanzo to socialize in a way that hadn’t been possible while he had been growing up and educated in Japan. If he hadn't moved away, he might never have even found himself a charming, handsome husband.

But it was clear from Sojiro's frequent calls and letters and emails that he missed his eldest son.

Going back for what would, for Hanzo, amount to two weeks of non-stop work wasn’t the way either Hanzo or Cole would have chosen to mark the occasion of their wedding with Hanzo’s side of the family, but that was simply Sojiro’s way and nothing would change that.

And despite it all, Hanzo was excited that Cole would be free to experience and explore his new husband’s old stomping grounds, and he wouldn’t even have to do it alone: Hanzo’s younger brother would be his personal tour guide.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a small price to pay.

As their chauffeur…their chauffeur, and wasn’t that a sign of how far Cole had married up? As their chauffeur gently drove the hover car through the castle gates and came to a stop in front of…more castle gates…and got out and opened the door for the newlyweds to step out, Cole took in a breath of cherry blossoms and squeezed Hanzo’s hand. “Beautiful,” he said with a smile. “And the trees and the castle don’t look half bad, neither.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes but smiled back. “It takes one to know one,” he said with a knowing look that bordered on leering, and Cole’s heart swelled with both affection and pride; he’d half-expected Hanzo to clam up and turn into a frigid, stressed-out prune not unlike what he’d been when they first met, but it seemed that with Cole at his side, nothing could touch the good humor that had always been lurking below the surface, waiting for someone handsome and tall and charming to draw it out.

Cole was so relieved that he nearly leaned down and kissed Hanzo, and then pressed him down to the ground, and then tore open his shirt, and began licking his way down his chest right there.

But no, they weren’t on private tropical beaches anymore.

So Cole would just have to tear his eyes away from the stunningly attractive face of his husband and will away his erection…

…for the next two weeks.

That was the only really unfair part of this trip; Hanzo was sure to be exhausted from both fending off his father’s attempts to get him to “come home” that both he and Cole had been sure he wouldn’t be up for anything the least bit sexual until they flew home.

It was unfair that their honeymoon would ironically result in their longest stretch of celibacy since they’d met, but that was precisely why there’d been a “part one”: that had been the time to fuck each other silly, in an attempt to drain themselves so completely of all carnal desire that it would take the full two weeks for it to build up again.

Unfortunately, for Cole at least, the effect had been exactly the opposite.

It had taken all his strength not to roll up the partition between them and the chauffeur in the car and blow Hanzo right there and then in the backseat.

It was taking everything he had not to whisk Hanzo through the door of what looked like a garden shed and lay him down on the ground and sit on his dick.

It was taking all he had to will away the hard and pulsing and, to his increasingly paranoid mind, completely obvious bulge in his trousers as they followed the chauffeur through the gardens to the main entrance of the castle.

But, obvious or not, Cole had to forget about his erection when his new father-in-law came striding out to meet them.

“Hanzo!” he called out, smiling wide.

Cole swallowed.

Shimada Sojiro was a gray-haired near-copy of his husband, with a fuller beard and darker eyes, but no less broad, no less attractive, and no less magnetic and charismatic.

Fuck, but there were some unholy thoughts going through Cole’s mind as father and son first bowed formally to each other, then walked forward and embraced.

“Father,” Hanzo said with genuine affection, “it’s good to see you in person.”

“Likewise,” Sojiro said, beaming as stunningly as Hanzo always did. “It’s been far too long since I chased you away…but look who you found!” he said with no sign whatsoever of disapproval as he turned towards Cole. “An actual, honest-to-goodness, and unfairly attractive cowboy! So you’re the man who’s stolen my son's heart and kept him away from home,” he said without a trace of malice, his eyes sparkling.

“Uh, yes sir,” Cole said, a little thrown. “That’d be me, sir. Can’t say that I’m sorry, though, begging your pardon.”

“Oh, I’m not, either,” Sojiro said warmly, taking Cole’s hand and shaking it warmly. “Do you know what I call you? My fifty-billion-dollar son-in-law. That’s how much Hanzo’s bringing in from the North American market, and who knows if he would’ve stayed over there long enough to make the necessary connections without such a good-looking boyfriend…husband!...to keep him there.” 

Cole inwardly shook his head. This was his father-in-law, and nothing was going to change that.

“Speaking of which,” Sojiro continued, letting go of Cole’s hand and looking back at Hanzo, “I wanted to discuss the direction of our Canadian subsidiary with you.”

Hanzo and Cole exchanged a knowing look. Not even one foot in the door and Sojiro was bringing up business, as they had predicted. “Alright, Father,” Hanzo replied, turning halfway. “We can start discussing it on the way to the office.”

“Oh no,” came the surprising reply. “I’m taking off two weeks from the office. Not as long as you two are here.”

Hanzo’s eyebrows rose up in surprise.

“We can talk with everyone there just as easily from my home office.”

And his eyebrows lowered again with a bit of self-directed chagrin, though Cole had been equally taken in by the sudden and wild hope that Sojiro had miraculously learned to keep family and work separate…but that was clearly not the case as Sojiro took Hanzo by the shoulder and started shepherding him inside, saying, “I brought all the files we need, and I’m sure Haneda can bring over anything more we need while we talk about opening a new regional office in Montreal to take the pressure off of the Toronto branch so they can focus on…”

“Hi. I’m Genji.”

Cole started as another hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to see Hanzo’s brother.

Jesus H. Christ, he thought distantly.

The castle wasn’t the only one that looked much better in person.

“Hey there,” Cole said, inwardly shrieking at his sudden breathlessness. Summoning some propriety, he smiled and said, “Nice to meet you in the flesh at long last, Genji. I’m Cole.”

“Likewise,” Genji said, and Cole felt a tremor run through him when he registered the definite…purring…undertone of his words. “Hey, Hanzo!” Genji called over to the retreating backs of Hanzo and Sojiro as they headed for a stairway. 

Hanzo looked over his shoulder and his expression brightened. “Genji!” he called back. “Good to see you! I’m sure Father will let us talk more in a little while.”

“Without a doubt!” Genji said, laughing. “I’ll take care of your husband in the meantime!”

“Please, and thank you!” was all Hanzo managed to say before he and his father disappeared up the stairs.

“You’ll have to forgive Dad,” Genji said, shaking his head with a smile. “Once he gets into business-mode, nothing can stop him.”

“I already have,” Cole said boldly, but still looking after Hanzo and feeling a bit wistful at this early demonstration of how the next two weeks would go. “Wouldn’t have come unless I had.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Genji said with a lopsided smile…as his eyes traveled up and down Cole’s figure. “Come on. Let me give you a quick tour. I’m sure Haneda has already taken care of your luggage.”

Genji flung an arm over Cole’s shoulders and tugged him into a brisk walk.

Cole swallowed.

Hanzo’s brother was…

Very warm as he pressed against his side.

And very hard with muscle.

And very handsome as Cole kept glancing at his profile so close alongside his own.

And Cole was very hard.

It seemed that Shimada men were apparently just able to press the button of Cole’s arousal effortlessly.

Genji was speaking, Cole realized, and he tried to refocus his thoughts to pay some actual attention to the words coming out of that pretty, shapely mouth.

“...will tell you the entire history of this place, but I sure can’t,” Genji was saying with another laugh. “I think most of the stuff here is three hundred plus years old, but don’t quote me on that. Over here, though, is probably the best part of the castle: the main balcony that overlooks the city and Mt. Fuji, right through here.”

They walked through a doorway onto a “balcony” that was the size of a small house, and the cityscape of Hanamura surrounding the snowbound peak of Mt. Fuji in the middle-distance was simply astounding. Cole felt his mouth drop open at the sight as Genji led him up to the railing as he took it all in.

“Pretty good, right?” Genji asked with immense self-satisfaction, as though he himself had prepared it all. “This is where I take all my conquests. Doesn’t matter what time of day it is; everyone likes to be fucked while taking in this incredible view.”

Cole blinked.

Genji was pressing himself more firmly to his side and…and he had…turned somewhat.

To press his hardness against Cole’s hip. Just a little.

While looking up at Cole’s face with a shameless grin.

Cole swallowed.

“I’m…Hanzo’s…”

“You’re not going to even see Hanzo for two weeks, I guarantee it,” Genji said baldly, tilting his hips forward slightly to rub his erection against Cole. “So, while he’s busy, we can get busy.”

Cole, to his horror and immense arousal, licked his lips and managed to choke out, “D…did Hanzo…ask you…”

Genji burst out laughing. “Of course not!” he all but howled, doubling over as far as he could without taking his arm off Cole’s shoulders. “Of course not! But I’m here, and he’s not, so I’m offering. And you,” he said, cutting off his laughter and speaking in a sly tone, “are clearly interested.”

He was addressing Cole’s own erection, bulging prominently in his trousers, much too close to Genji’s face for comfort as he almost literally hung off Cole’s shoulders.

Cole licked his lips again.

This had to be a trick, a test of loyalty of some kind. Hanzo had been blunt when describing Genji’s character, so Cole had been expecting a certain level of shamelessness from the Shimada’s resident playboy, left to pursue his every wanton desire while his father and brother ran the family empire, but this was…Genji couldn’t be this wanton. He had to be testing Cole, and if Cole acquiesced, Genji would run to his brother and tell him that he’d married a disloyal horndog who couldn’t even stop himself from sleeping with his brother-in-law during their honeymoon.

“I swear,” Genji whispered, and Cole could hear him lick his own lips, “I swear, on my life, that this will stay between us, my dear brother-in-law. This isn’t the only time I've wanted a taste of someone else's feast. I swear that this will never reach Hanzo, or Father, and anyone, anyone at all, as long as I live, if you just give me a little, just a little taste of you.”

Cole wavered.

Hanzo had said Genji was a playboy…but Hanzo also said he trusted Genji with his life.

Genji had stumbled across Hanzo and their father’s right-hand man, a little dalliance between two hardworking, lonely men, but Genji hadn’t told a soul about it…and, even more meaningfully to Hanzo, as he’d recounted to Cole years later when they’d been sharing secrets with each other, Genji hadn’t even teased him about it once Hanzo made it clear that it was a sore and delicate subject.

Genji could apparently keep his mouth shut when it counted.

And if…and if Hanzo never knew…and if Genji knew that…

“I’m never gonna choose you over him,” Cole rasped, his cock twitching. “If it’s ever you or him, it’ll be him.”

“Clearly,” Genji replied, glancing up. “But if you can have me and him…”

“But if it ever comes down to it,” Cole said, with an edge to his voice.

“Oh, I see,” Genji said, and while he was clearly amused, he looked serious, too, as he straightened up and put a hand over his heart. “I swear, cowboy, I won’t catch any feelings. This is a fuckbuddies situation at the very most. I’ll never ask to spend the night, I’ll never ask for a goodbye kiss, and I’ll always let you go home to your husband. I swear.”

And Cole really, truly felt that Genji’s word was good.

So he swallowed and softly said, “Alright.”

And that’s how he found himself sitting down on the wooden floor, leaning back on his hands, his legs sprawled in front of him with his trousers around his ankles, overlooking the city of Hanamura in the bright sunshine while his new brother-in-law slurped on his dick.

Fuck, Cole thought dizzily as he stared at Genji’s red lips sliding up and down on his shaft. He was not expecting this part of his honeymoon to turn out this way.

Hanzo was precise and thorough and loved to savor Cole’s dick and body, raking his hands and fingers through the forest of Cole’s body hair; Genji was speedier, hungrier, and sloppier and focused slowly on the cock between his lips, his own spit trickling down his chin as he popped and sucked loudly. Cole found himself wishing he’d slow down a little as his balls drew up in his sac and his breathing quickened as he felt his cum boiling up, but man, the fact that his brother-in-law wanted his jizz and wanted it now was a major, major turn-on that almost made up for Hanzo’s slow, patient, and comprehensive approach…but Cole did find himself brushing his own hand over his chest and pinching at his nipples in a simulacrum of what Hanzo would have done.

But he had to admit…

…it was nice to get a…a…

…a different strategy. A different point-of-view.

A different mouth, Cole admitted to himself as he pinched down hard on his nipple and threw his head back.

“Mmm,” Genji sighed as cum flooded into his mouth. “Mmm. Mmm…”

Cole shuddered under the vibrations echoing through his body and the lighting arcing along his nerves as he unloaded into his husband’s brother’s hot, wet mouth.

“Cole? Genji?” called Hanzo. “Are you out here?”

Hanzo stepped out onto the balcony, looked around and smiled. “There you are! Genji, it’s so good to see you!”

“Brother!” Genji answered with a wide smile as he jogged forward with his arms wide, and the brothers embraced, with Genji’s momentum turning Hanzo all the way around one hundred and eighty degrees…

…which gave Cole the opportunity to zip up his fly.

Hanzo’s voice had reached them with just enough time for both men to scramble to their feet and for Genji to pull up Cole’s trousers and button them closed with instantaneous, well-practiced moves, but even he hadn’t had time for that last detail.

Cole’s heart was hammering and adrenaline surging through his veins…

…but then Hanzo released Genji and turned around and smiled at him, Cole surprised himself with how naturally he smiled back and walked up to his husband and tucked a hand around his waist. “There you are, darling,” he drawled, looking down at him. “Tell me you’ve been released.”

“No such luck,” Hanzo replied, shaking his head regretfully, “but Father suddenly realized he didn’t let me say hello to Genji, so he sent me down to do so. Hello, Genji.”

“Hello, brother,” Genji replied impishly. “How long did he give us to talk in-person for the first time in six years? Two minutes? Three?”

"Five,” Hanzo said, rolling his eyes with feeling. “He’s getting through to the CFO, and apparently he knows down to the second how long that’ll take, so five minutes. How are you, Genji? You look well.”

“I’m doing great, as always,” Genji said with a grin. “I’d be better if I wasn’t babysitting some cowboy you dragged in with you. My favorite bar has got a two-for-one special tonight.”

“Which one?” Hanzo asked, and then said with Genji, word-for-word, “All of them.”

Genji cackled, leaning onto his brother’s shoulder. “Oh, brother,” he sighed, “it’s been too long. When do you think Dad will let us talk again?”

“Not before dinner.”

“Predictable. You know, if we go down into the basement because I was ‘showing Cole the wine cellar’,” Genji said with finger quotes, “there will be no signal and we could probably stretch that five minutes into…”

Hanzo’s phone chirped.

“Fuck,” Genji said in a flat tone, and Hanzo and Cole chuckled at his thwarted expression as Hanzo fished his phone out of his pocket and answered it on speaker.

“Hanzo, I’ve gotten through to Kimura,” came Sojiro’s voice. “She has the latest figures. Come and take a look at them.”

“Right away, Father,” Hanzo said obediently and ended the call. “It’s wonderful to see you, Genji. We’ll talk more at dinner.”

“Can’t wait, brother!”

“Me, either. Take good care of my husband while I’m gone,” Hanzo said as he stood on tiptoe and brushed his lips against Cole’s.

“I will if you stop making me witness my own brother’s PDAs,” Genji shot back with a theatrical gag.

Hanzo laughed and, his hand lingering in Cole’s until he stepped out of range, walked back inside the castle, waving as he went.

Cole and Genji stood there together for a few moment, watching the door, before Cole sagged forward, his hands on his knees and his head hanging down.

“Jesus christ,” he muttered, his eyes screwed tightly closed. “Fuck. Goddamn.”

“You did good, cowboy,” Genji said, sounding impressed. “You got a poker face made for Monaco.”

“Apparently,” Cole said with a haggard sigh. “Didn’t know it until just now though.”

Genji laughed as he patted Cole on the back.

Cole’s cock twitched.

Cole’s eyes narrowed as he eyed his own crotch, full and swollen and, even leaking, his underwear wet against his skin.

Now that the shock of nearly getting caught was passing…

…he was horny. Unbelievably horny.

He looked up at Genji.

“Where,” he said in a low voice, “did you say that wine cellar was?”

A part of him, a small part of him, was hoping a cool and dark place might dampen the heat in his blood.

That was before Genji, with a wink, took a yoga mat out of an out-of-the-way closet and unrolled it on the floor and took a bottle of lube out of his pocket.

Cole had the pleasure of surprising him, though, when he pushed Genji down on his back and stradded him, hunched over, with slippery fingers probing between his cheeks and into his entrance, their eyes locked together, before Cole slowly squatted and let Genji’s dick, so similar to Hanzo’s in length and girth, poke up against his loose, wet hole before sinking into Cole’s fiery heat.

Hanzo liked it when Cole rode him.

Genji looked frustrated that he had to take what Cole gave and nothing more, and Cole grinned, pleased to have the upper hand as he slowly rode Genji’s cock up and down. “Wait,” he crooned when Genji tried to impatiently thrust up into him, “Wait, wait. Just a little longer. Just a little bit longer. I like having your cock up my ass, y’know. Let me enjoy it, really enjoy, just a little bit longer.”

It took a lot longer before Cole was ready to let a nearly-murderous Genji finally cum.

The way Genji’s eyes rolled back and his hands clutched at Cole’s hips and his breath caught in his throat while his mouth lolled open and slack made Cole think that he would be forgiven fairly quickly, though.

He was.

Later that night, when Hanzo and Sojiro reappeared for a delicious dinner, Genji couldn’t sing Cole’s praises more if he tried.

“I like him a lot, brother,” he declared between shoveling mouthfuls of food. “He’s funny, he’s bold, he’s smart. You picked a good one.”

“Thank you,” said Hanzo drily, though with a pleased look. “I’m glad you approve. Shall I bring another cowboy or two with me the next time to see if they can tie you down at last?”

“Let them try! Nobody is ever gonna tie this free spirit down!” Genji boasted, a sentiment that did Cole’s heart some real good.

“Do you know any more cowboys?” Genji asked later that evening. Hanzo and Sojiro had gone back to business despite the late hour, so Genji had led Cole to a bench in the gardens sheltered by the castle’s eaves and cherry blossoms, a refreshingly cool spot in the night air, and was now sitting in Cole’s lap, their erections flush together, with both Cole and Genji stroking up and down.

“Sure do,” Cole hummed distractedly, panting at the feel of Genji’s soft, smooth hand, so different from Hanzo’s. “Don’t think they can afford to come out here, though. You’ll have to come out and visit us sometime.”

“How about next month?” Genji said unexpectedly as he quickened the pace.

“Wh…why so…why so soon?” Cole breathed as he felt himself approach the edge.

Genji gave him a wicked look. “Didn’t know there was anything worth my time out there until now,” he said with a glint in his eye.

Cole rolled his, then gasped as his cock erupted, sending a jet of semen flying straight into the air before it fell back onto their hands. Then he groaned as Genji, his wicked look unabating, used it as impromptu lube as he chased his own completion, sending bolts of overstimulation through Cole until he finally came as well, breathing hard and shivered as his own spunk covered his face.

The rest of the honeymoon passed quickly.

Hanzo was kept as busy and as occupied by his father as he’d predicted, but Cole never found himself getting bored. Genji was as much of a sex fiend as his brother, and soon Cole really had had a tour of the entire castle: Genji bent him over in the dojo, the family baths, and the former guard barracks, he bent Genji over in the dining room, the top-floor watchpost, and the kitchen in the middle of the night when a particularly difficult piece of business kept Hanzo and Sojiro in the office until four in the morning, and they sucked each other off in a plethora of hallways, secluded outdoor spots, closets, and, most daringly of all, in Sojiro’s home office, with Cole seated in his father-in-law’s chair, combing his fingers through Genji’s hair as he crouched under the desk with Cole’s cock in his mouth.

Sojiro had broken his word and taken Hanzo into the office down in the city; this was Cole’s revenge.

Though, Cole thought charitably as he guided Genji to go slower, just a little slower, his father-in-law was so affable and obviously proud of Hanzo and so accepting of Cole’s entry into the family that revenge was probably not the best word. This was Cole’s…protest. There, that was a better term, Cole thought wryly just before his mind blanked out and he blasted another full load of semen down his brother-in-law’s throat.

Later that evening, as though Sojiro knew about Cole’s protest…though certainly not the manner that he expressed it…he surprised everyone at dinner, even making Hanzo’s jaw drop open, by declaring that he owed Hanzo and Cole one free day while they were home (and the way he said “home” so firmly while looking at Cole and smiling made Cole’s heart swell with affection towards his new father-in-law), and that Hanzo and Cole were free to do whatever they wished for the entire next day, which was their last before they left.

Cole and Hanzo didn’t truly believe him; the next morning they woke up in the guest room, embracing as usual, and got up and cleaned up and dressed and went down to breakfast fully expecting that some crucial business would require Hanzo’s personal attention…

…but Sojiro finished eating, wiped his mouth, stood up and warmly said, “Enjoy your day, boys,” and made to exit the room.

It gave Cole a little rush of pleasure that he managed to recover and pick his jaw off the floor before Hanzo did and blurt out, “Now hang on, Mr. Shimada. How about you join me and Hanzo for a walk into town this afternoon after lunch? We’d be mighty glad of your company.”

Sojiro paused, clearly surprised, and said, slowly, “If…if I wouldn’t be intruding…”

“Of course not, Father,” Hanzo said, shooting an affectionate look at Cole before looking back at Sojiro. “It would be a pleasure if you joined us.”

Sojiro opened his mouth, closed it, then ventured, “After my one o’clock meeting? About two-thirty?”

“We’ll be there,” Cole said with a smile.

Genji flashed a thumbs up from across the table, but Cole only had eyes for how Hanzo was practically glowing.

When they finished breakfast, Hanzo took his hand and led Cassidy straight back to the guest room.

“You,” he growled playfully as he pushed Cole onto the sheets and prowled after him, tugging his trousers down and then lifting his legs, “are the perfect husband.”

“Aw, shucks,” Cole preened, playing up his self-satisfaction, “But I thought I had the perfect husband. He always rims me and opens me up and fucks me so good, after all.”

Hanzo chuckled and dived into the sheltered valley between Cole’s legs, making Cole jolt and suck in a sharp breath.

Genji was good, he thought through a haze of pleasure, but nobody knew him, nobody could undo him, nobody could make him cum faster than…

“H-Hanzo!” Cole gasped, shuddering and quaking as he came all over himself, thick globs of jizz even splashing across his beard and cheek from the sheer force of his orgasm driven out of him by Hanzo’s clever tongue against his asshole.

Hanzo looked up, looking smug, and Cole grinned down at him.

Oh, yes. He had definitely married into the right family.

#yeehan #spuriken #hanzo shimada #cole shimada #genji shimada #sojiro shimada #requests #my stories

[pandavalkyrie]

Yesterday I had a thought about self driving cars. The idea is simple, right? You tell the computer where you want to go and it takes you there. I hate driving, so at least at first, years ago, the idea of this was like a dream. Let someone, or something else, take the anxiety away. Take the risk from my hands. 

But now I’ve read all the arguments about why self driving single family vehicles are a waste. And now I agree, yes, just build trains. Just build a better public transportation system. But something else occurred to me recently while I was driving to the store.

Something kind of more existential that creeped into my understanding of how everything else is starting to turn.

Self driving vehicles will destroy the act of getting lost on purpose. 

On purpose is the important part there. Sometimes my husband and I will get in the car and go, with no real destination in mind. We just hit the road and drive, making turns at random, seeing what we see. We’ve stumbled into some incredible situations doing this. We’ve found parks, restaurants, and a creepy crumbling Christian LARP center we never would’ve found if we just plugged ‘Olive Garden’ into the GPS computer and let it go.

Automated cars will streamline the transportation experience. It’ll take out making a left turn instead of a right, because you had the thought, “Why not?”

If all cars became self driving, which some folks are claiming one day will happen, that’s one opportunity for a little extra spontaneous color in your life dead in the water.

And it’s not just that. It’s all automation. Wendy’s is testing an AI that’ll take your order at the drive thru. Yes, the primary problem with this is the elimination of jobs without any social safety net. That’s enough to side against it.

But, it also takes away a moment of interaction with a stranger. 99% of the time those interactions range form boring to frustrating, but 1% you get to talk to someone for a few minutes that makes your day. Maybe they joke around with you, compliment you, suggest something on the menu even. It’s a small social moment we need.

Everything needs to be streamlined. Everything needs to be efficient. We need to eliminate as much color and strangeness and opportunity for discomfort as possible. Television shows need to get on with the plot, quit sitting with the characters and letting the themes breathe with them. AI art generates exactly what you want to see without any little imperfections or quirks of the artist. Keep using the system, soon even the quirks of the AI itself like too many fucking fingers will also be smoothed out.

This is an existential crisis I’m having right now. Hell, maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m being dramatic. But it feels like algorithms and so called AI are going to pigeonhole us into our little nuclear family bubbles and keep us there, lest we stop being good predictable consumers.

Stick with what you already know, tell the machine that’s what you want, and let it spit that exact thing out for you. Hell, the machine already predicted you wanted it. Google calendar told your car you have a doctor’s appointment, you don’t even need to enter the clinic’s address. How convenient.

Am I making a point here? Am I rambling or does this make sense? I have severe social anxiety and still I don’t want every interaction with a stranger replaced with a sterile and cold machine.

[ltleflrt]

I want to give up on this fic.

But I'm actually pretty close to the end, and I don't want to leave it abandoned when I've really only got a few plot points left to address (probably still like 10 chapters tbh lol). I really like the story, but I'm struggling so hard to write it because I don’t like the words I’m using to build it.

The first 40k flowed really easy, and when I re-read those parts of the story, I'm happy with the writing. But after I got bogged down again, I hate it. I lost the melody I usually hear when I'm having an easy time writing. It reminds me of being in orchestra and somehow I got off tempo, and I can't match myself up with everyone else, so I put my violin down and stop playing. But the concert is still going; I can't just walk off the stage, y'know?

Whenever I get really frustrated about this feeling, I inevitably get someone telling me "you just hate it because you're improving" and that enrages me, because no that's not the problem. I can go back and look at the fics I wrote 8-10 years ago, and feel like that was better writing than what I'm doing today. And even if it's true that I hate it because I'm improving, SO WHAT?? What's next? HOW DO I GET PAST THIS HURDLE? Keep writing you say? Oh alright, I've only been doing that for the last FOUR YEARS, so at what point is it supposed to get fucking better?? If that statement is intended to make me feel better, it's not working. Every time I hear it, it makes me want to quit even more. It's not a a helpful solution to the problem, it's just a platitude.

I will concede that my plots are improving. I progressively write more difficult stories. I get stuck a lot more on indecision on how to handle certain plot points, what order to put them in to get the most oomph from the events, and what to do next once I've resolved those issues. That's the main reason my current WIP has taken me 11 months to write 78k, even though my first fic ever was 78k written in 2 months, and I used to consistently write 100k+ stories in 3-5 months. I have to really examine this stuff up close, consider a lot more possibilities than I ever have before, and figure out what to trim and what to create brand new from the ether. But this isn't what I'm frustrated about, even if it IS a struggle.

It's my Author Voice that I've lost. The cadence, the melody, everyone put down your instruments because we've fucked up the song.

*sigh*

Anyway, I'm still going to finish this fic. Thank goodness for Tauren stubbornness, or I'd have given up 30k ago.

Please, please, do not respond to this with any flavor of “but it means you’re improving”. Even if it’s true, it undoes any catharsis I just got from venting, and actually sets my progress back another week while I try to get over the increased frustration. I know it’s meant in good faith, and I love you for it, but it’s not what I need right now.

#ltleramblings #writer's angst

[strangerthings1975]

How do you take negative criticism on your writing?

For a brief while I took hate comments personal but now I like to believe they’re commented by those too young to understand the way words put them down. Sometimes it is hard to feel good about your writing when everything feels like it’s under a microscope being observed though…

Hello 🖤🖤 thank you for your question. My answer is a bit long lol. 😅🖤

I don’t take criticism well at all. I’ve had some pretty nasty things said to me in the past, years ago even, and I still remember that shit. It hurts.

I’m an extremely sensitive person, and it’s not easy to put yourself on the line and share writing with thousands of people. I mean, anything can happen. Hate comments, neutral comments, no comments, creepy comments, etc. There have been a lot of times I wanted to quit writing completely bc I didn’t think it was worth how awful it feels to be judged.

But then I think to myself, you know what? There’s like fucking millions of fics and books and shit in the world for people to read… maybe they hate what I wrote and they think I suck, well good for them. They can go read something else and go away. Like?? How hard is it to read something, realize it’s not appealing to you, and then EXIT THE PAGE without being a cunt?? You know, silently decide not to continue to reading it. Because if I wanted an editor or someone to tell me what they didn’t like, I would’ve asked. You know? Like what is a hate comment supposed to accomplish? Do they think they’re doing us a favour and helping us improve? Because they’re not.

If it’s telling me about typos or something and stuff I could actually fix/edit quickly, then yes please tell me. Similarly, if they write me a genuine comment about something they didn’t like or that made them uncomfortable, without insulting me… Sure. It would sting, but sometimes I’d really like to know where I went wrong with something. Or if I’ve accidentally said something offensive. Otherwise… no. It’s absolutely no good to me to be criticized. Just makes me feel like shit, and then I don’t want to write.

And that would be sad!! if I didn’t write I wouldn’t have made any of the friends I currently have, I wouldn’t have learned the lessons I’ve learned. I would lose my hobby. And why should I lose out just because of strangers on the internet??? I don’t think so.

So yes it really hurts, sometimes it takes me days to get over. The other day someone on Tik Tok said something about MPG that made me cry for a couple hours. Idk. I worry all the time about not being good enough. But I’ve decided not to let it stop me. And I hope it doesn’t stop you either!! We just have to try and remember to have fun with writing and remember why we started in the first place.

I find that taking a break from it all and just reading and watching TV and getting inspired again really helps. Putting yourself first instead of trying to impress anybody or meet expectations. I made that mistake more than once, and it never got me anywhere.

What I’m going to do from now on is not post WIPs. Maybe that can help you too! Avoid the pressure of knowing people are waiting for you to update, avoid receiving comments that make you reconsider everything you had planned for the next chapters, avoiding seeing that your most recent chapter lost you some subscribers or that someone didn’t comment… avoid having to wonder what you did wrong, why they stopped liking it. Because people can get in your head, and the fear of disappointing them paralyzes you… then you just lose motivation to continue because “what’s the point?”

I mean in MPG, everybody wanted something different. Bottom Steve, top Steve, switch Steve, sub Steve, Billy redemption arc, Billy to be killed, Billy and Steve to make up, more chapters, less chapters, more smut, more plot, you know? All this conflicting stuff and I couldn’t possibly make EVERYONE happy. It’s exhausting. But if I would’ve just written for myself privately and then published it, I would’ve been absorbed in the exact story I wanted to tell, and it would have been so much more fulfilling. It would be finished by now, and I’d probably be a lot happier with it.

So that’s my advice from experience. Try to take a break, keep your writing for yourself and for trusted people, and then when it’s ready and truly the story you want to tell, post it if you wish. And then you’ll have the confidence within yourself to stand by what you wrote because you know it’s exactly what you wanted and that YOU are happy with it. Even if someone is a jerk, you know in your heart that you like your story. And that makes it easier to brush off negativity. Yes, it’s great if people like it, but that’s just extra. We need to love our own stories and writing and ignore the noise. Or else we’ll never get anywhere.🖤🖤🖤

I hope that helps even a little bit. 🖤🖤

#ask

[sitp-recs]

Random ask:

Hi Liv! What really draws you to Drarry as a pairing and Harry and Draco as individual characters?

Personally I was always a fan of Draco (because of the whole bad boy rebel thing- I didn’t realise there was so, so much more to him than until I started getting obsessed with Drarry) but I actually never really liked Harry (except I always supported his decisions and loved his sass) all that much in the beginning until I joined the Drarry fandom and realised that in retrospect, he’s an incredible character and wasn’t done any justice at all in the series. I mean the turning point for me was revisiting the part where he tricked Ron into performing well by pretending to give him the Felix Felicis. Like this boy-

But what made me fall for Harry was The Ordeal of Being Known by @lou-isfake . That fic. Oh. My. Gosh. The amount they delved into Harry psyche and the extensive knowledge they had of that character, what he went through and how all of these experiences shaped his life later on; I’m a little suspicious of them actually being Harry’s actual creator and not the terfling (I personally think all rights of Harry Potter should go to them).

And Draco. What the fuck. He’s the most underrated character in the entire series because unlike how he was portrayed as a villain who ended up receiving no redemption arc, he was a victim of his own circumstance just like (his lover) Harry, and they were both very gay grey characters.

And the more fanfics I read, the more and more I fall in love with the millions of slightly altered versions of them both and honestly it’s criminal how little we really know about them. And well, Drarry. My obsession with these reading about these two idiots falling in love (which is canon in my mind) grows enormously every single day and I just pray for more opportunities to get involved within the fandom because I’d quite literally have lost my mind if it weren’t for Drarry.

But my thesis aside I really want to know what you feel about it as well (and your lovely followers too!).

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk x

Well this was one hell of a Ted Talk, I love it! It was really interesting to read your thoughts and insights about this. And TOOBK is an absolute masterpiece, @lou-isfake deserves all the love and praise for coming up with such a moving, thoughtful and emotionally complex story, honestly their mind!!!

As for me… I will admit that I haven’t revisited the books in ages, probably even before Cursed Child came out *hides* I found the increasing plot holes, lack of character depth and diversity issues very disappointing and since fic gave me everything I needed in terms of expanding the universe, I kinda let go of the books pretty early on. I moved abroad 4 years ago and didn’t even think of taking them with me lol for shame 💀

Which brings me to my second point: I’ve never felt particularly drawn to either Harry or Draco in the books. Great levels of sass aside, I found Harry boring, whiny and indolent, while Draco was confined to that one-dimensional bully arc that wasn’t really done in a clever or satisfying way, and didn’t deliver redemption or closure. I’ve never found them compelling as main character/antagonist, I didn’t even care enough to ship them. Now I understand my perception was shaped by young Liv’s limited mind and bad writing, I’d probably read Harry differently and be more compassionate towards him. Isn’t it great that good fic and growing up give us some perspective!

So to answer your main question, what drives me to them is a good “enemies to lovers” story because I freaking love these dynamics. I love the fire, the intensity, the inner conflict, the vulnerability, give me all the implications and complications. Fic makes it possible because it gives them emotional depth while exploring multiple post-war possibilities. There are so many ways to bring them together and pull them apart, and so many interesting ways to expand the universe and the magic lore while doing that. Like you said, it’s refreshing to see those slightly different versions of them finding each other and falling in love! At this point I feel like I’m more knowledgeable about fanon as the canon characterization becomes a distant memory in the depths of my mind. I love it that fics take time to properly explore their trauma and give them the room to process it and to do some self-discovery, whether it’s professional, sexual/romantic, in a found family scenario, etc. One fic that transformed the way I see Harry is Away Childish Things by lettered, it felt like a punch in the stomach but oh, it hurt so good!

I took many breaks from Drarry over the years but I keep coming back because we’re lucky to have SO MUCH top notch content. It blows my mind the amount of talented creators that keep joining the fandom, the superior quality of their works, the sense of community we all share. I haven’t found this anywhere else and it fuels my love for the ship which, let’s face it, might not have survived under other circumstances. I wondered if creating a blog would be a good idea because I didn’t plan on staying around for very long, yet here I am two years later nowhere close to leaving 😂

Wow this got really long and somehow I feel like this was an extremely vague and unsatisfactory answer, sorry anon. Thanks for the ask, I’d love to see other people’s thoughts on this too!

#random asks #anon #long post

[rubyastari]

Everyday Stories

There’s nothing to declare about my oh-so-boring life lately. Every day is mostly the same: get up, work, go about my day, write, watch TV or listen to music or podcast at night, sleep, and repeat. Oh, don’t forget workout and minor social interactions in between.

Then, how do I still get to write every day? Where do I get the ideas?

I’ve always loved stories. I love reading, listening, and watching them. Sometimes when an ending of a story does not satisfy me, I write my own stories. I know that they’re mostly fiction and I may have a bit of an issue with control.

If you ask me how many pieces I’ve already written, I’ve lost count of them. I’ve written some stuff for personal reasons. Others are work-related.

Some others are for promotional purposes.

Actually, finding your everyday stories is not as hard as it seems. Besides owning a passion for storytelling is a start, here are some of the other things that you can do:

1.         Realise and accept the fact that ‘it’s not all about you.

Has your life been feeling so stagnant lately? No worries, that’s perfectly normal. Accept that you’re not always interesting. That’s okay.

When that happens, maybe it’s time to shift your focus elsewhere. Start writing about other people and other things, especially those you have not considered worth writing for just yet. Pay attention to your family and friends.

Write about your pets. Write about anything you haven’t tried before. Step out of your comfort zone and see what happens.

2.         Vary your reading materials.

I grew up with a love for reading fiction and poetry. I admit that both are still fun. I have quite vivid (and rather morbid too sometimes, according to some friends) imagination.

However, things may get dull after a while. Everything starts feeling … predictable. Mundane. If I’m not careful, that can get boring too.

Long ago, I decided to start following an old friend’s advice: “Vary your reading materials.” I’m glad that I still do that. I no longer care if anyone thinks my reading choices are lame.

Besides, it’s not like I’ve ever asked them to buy me those books.

3.         Listen to different types of music, podcast shows, and audiobooks.

I listen to different songs to help me to create different moods and scenes in a story. I can’t tell you all the details, but let me give you one example: heavy metal for fight scenes or anything related to being chased by something creepy.

I know, I know. Kind of generic, eh? That’s just one example, though.

Every song has a different story. The same goes for podcast shows and audiobooks. Why so picky?

4.         Watch different types of films (series, short movies, blockbusters, and indies, genres, as many as possible.)

This is actually the same thing as the second and the third tips. These days, there are a lot of tips too. From regular TV to going to the cinema and online streaming – they’re all there.

I understand that we can’t watch everything with so little time in our hands. I usually limit myself to watching one film/TV show before work and another one after work.

Perhaps there are films with plots or endings that you are not happy about. Who knows? Maybe that’ll give you ideas to write better ones – well, at least according to you.

5.         Basically, practice, practice, and more practice.

I’ve always agreed that skills are shaped and bettered through time and consistent effort. Yes, there are times you feel like you’re not getting anywhere with what you have. Sometimes you wonder if it’s even worth it. Should you just quit it?

Even when you do love writing stories, there are times when it gets boring. What for? Who’s going to read yours anyway? When are you ever going to catch your big break?

Well, keep your eyes open. Be consistent in what you do, but improvise when you (feel the) need to. You know you may not win everybody over as your audience. Everyone has their own market.

Don’t Forget This As Well:

If you’re already aware of the risk of sharing almost EVERYTHING on social media, then good for you. Because once it’s out there, then it’s out there and automatically a public consumption.

It doesn’t matter if you set your postings for ‘close friends only’. You still have to watch out. People change. Who knows? A few moments from now, you may have a beef with one of your VIPs – and they’ve already got your dirt in their grasp.

In short, everyday stories are basically the menu on social media. Free materials to choose and use for your writing ideas, but what does your conscience tell you?

R.

#writer@work

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Hello! can you do a scenario with fem!reader and father's best friend!namjoon? I totally understand if this is a concept you're uncomfortable with. All the armys are going crazy with the dilf!bts concept so I need to have this 😭

Tbh that's a hard concept (like absolutely don't do this irl y'all plss it's not okay if it's not fiction– go in the notes to read my PSA pls) so I had to write a bit of plot at the beginning just because I wanted to make it as less weird as possible lol

Namjoon wasn't the type of family friend you got to see a lot growing up. He was, however, the type of friend you got to hear about a lot. Your dad had spent his high school years being in a band that never really had its break, and Namjoon had apparently been the youngest member and your father's favourite. He kept talking about how he "raised" him, meaning he helped him get his first kiss and taught him about girls. Then your dad got your mum pregnant right after graduating, and they both decided to move to the US to find a job and start their family. Your family. And so your dad lost touch with his best friend.

He talked about him quite often, and you knew he had even visited once when you were still too young to have a memory of it. You had only ever seen a couple of pictures of them together; Namjoon looked like a very cringy 13-year-old with a terrible haircut. Not that your dad as a teenager looked any better. But that's beside the point. It doesn't matter what he looked like back then, today you probably wouldn't be able to even recognize him even if he passed you on the street.

"Did I tell you? My best friend moved here from Korea! The band kids are back together!"

Namjoon came back into your father's life at around the same time as you left it– moved away for college. And you kept getting all these updates on how great it was that they found each other again, how many things they did together and in general how happy your dad was. When you visited home for Christmas, Namjoon was away so you didn't run into him. And almost a year after he had moved there, you would finally meet him during the summer. Your father invited him for dinner one hot evening in July.

You opened the door to find him standing outside, your mother just a step behind to greet him. “Joonie! So glad you could make it. Come on in, come on in... Ah! As you know, this is our daughter.”

The man was tall and handsome, nothing like the pictures you had seen. And familiar. His eyes met yours and he smiled, making your blood run cold— you had seen that man before. Not even a week ago, staring at you at the bar while sipping his whiskey until you decided he was too hot and couldn’t be older than 30, so you walked up to him and gave him a napkin with your number and a lipstick stain of a kiss on it. He never called.

“Wow,” Namjoon said without his tone matching his words. “She has grown up so much.” And he looked you up and down again, checking you out kind of like he had done that night. Your entire face was burning, turning on your heels to get away. What the fuck kind of luck was that? He was your dad's friend? You hoped– you begged that he didn't recognize you. He wasn't saying anything, though his eyes kept on stealing looks, and so you thought you might have had a close escape. Until you run into each other in the kitchen. Alone. "Come here, young lady," he said in a deep voice that sent shivers down your spine. You already felt like you were in trouble. "Does your father know you go around giving your number to men almost twice your age?"

He was so close, eyes travelling lazily down your form with a smirk on his lips. "No," you choked. "I– I don't– You were staring at me, that's why I thought..."

"I was staring at you because I was trying to figure out if you were my best friend's daughter."

Hearing him say the words made your cheeks burn. Defeat. He had a logical excuse and all you had was that he was a little too much your type. And he sounded like he was scolding you, reminding you of your place. You lowered your head, really wanting to get out. "Please don't tell him."

Don't tell him I hit on you. Don't tell him I wanted to fuck you.

Namjoon didn't reply right away, but late that night you got a text from an unknown number. "I won't tell him anything."

He won't tell him anything. Perhaps that could be applied to what had already happened, or what would happen in the future.

You didn't text frequently, but you did nonetheless. And even though you were sure both of you would say they were simple, innocent texts, how innocent could they really be when the man already knew how you felt about him? Maybe you were crazy, but you thought he might like you too. Maybe he liked the fact that you liked him. It wasn't evident in anything he did or say, just the vibes you got from him those days he visited your house, or the way he looked at you when you were left alone for a second. The summer passed by so fast when every other day you met your father's best friend in one way or another.

When it was time for you to move back to the city where you attended college, Namjoon just so happened to be going there for some work too. And your parents were grateful that you had someone to travel with. The car ride was long and mostly silent. You had never been left alone for so long and suddenly you realised how hard it was to keep a conversation going without talking about how horny he made you feel just by being in the same, tight space with you. But the farther away you got from home, the less you cared about keeping your good reputation up.

"Where will you sleep tonight?" you asked him after he helped drop off all your stuff at your apartment late that night and was already at the door, ready to leave.

"I'll find a hotel," he told you, hand still on the door handle.

"You can stay here if you want to."

"Don't–" His plea was soft-spoken, in contrast to the intense way his eyes were piercing yours.

"Don't what?" you acted dumb. "All I'm saying is I'm sure dad would rather you stay instead of paying for a room. You're like family, anyway."

You noticed how he took in a deep breath, grip around the knob getting harder. "Don't bring him into this."

Saying that you two shouldn't mention your father was like admitting what was going on right now was beyond innocent. And even though your stomach clenched at his harsh tone, you bowed your head and whispered. "I'm sorry."

"This is so wrong," you heard him call loudly all of a sudden, making you look back at him. He was chewing on his lip desperately. "I was there when your dad got your mom pregnant. Do you know what I said? Fuck, man, how are you gonna get out of this bullshit? I shouldn’t be…"

You blinked at him, waiting to hear the end of the sentence. "Shouldn't be what?" You weren't gonna let him slip away that easily. You would push him until he had to say what he wanted to say. It was your only chance, anyway.

Namjoon sighed. He pushed the door closed and walked up to you steadily all while he was staring straight into your eyes. "Why did you give me your number that night?"

Your breathing was already getting heavier. You wouldn't back away. What was the point? He knew already. "Because you were hot. And I wanted you to fuck me."

He chewed his lip for a few seconds, watching your face as he contemplated his next words. "Why do you want me to stay over tonight?"

You gulped. He was so close, closer than ever. "Because you're hot," you whispered. Glance down on his lips. "And I want you to fuck me."

He closed his eyes momentarily before he was exhaling loudly. "Fucking– hell!"

And he instantly moved forward, one hand grabbing the back of your head as he brought your face to crush on his, mouths smashing against each other after all the times you had dreamed about it. It was so much better than you could have imagined, lips full and soft parting yours for his tongue to slip in between, making you moan. And you were trying to get closer and closer, almost tripping as you walked blindly further into the apartment. His jacket was discarded on the floor before your shirt joined it, and Namjoon was growling before attacking your neck with his teeth.

"Daddy..." The word truly slipped out of you, and he was pausing for a moment, pulling away to look at you.

"Really? You're really gonna call me daddy?" Your eyes were wide and cheeks burning, squirming away from him before he grabbed your wrist to keep you close. "Shit," he grunted, not sounding mad at all. "Alright, baby. Show daddy where your room is, need to get you in bed right away."

And you mewled at his words. You were there in no time, pulling the rest of your clothes off as Namjoon undressed too. Big and thick, he was even hotter like that, making you press your legs together as you took the sight in. And when he removed his boxers too, you got to found out his dick matched the rest of his body perfectly, long and thick and so hot it made your mouth water.

"Daddy," you whined as he started crawling over you. "You're so big. You're gonna tear me apart."

His large hand grabbed your jaw. "That's what you get for playing with big boys." And he kissed you ruthlessly again. His other hand travelling down your form until he found your pussy, fingers playing with your folds and humming in satisfaction. "So wet. Is that all for me, baby?"

"Yes, daddy," you moaned, hips trying to grind on his hand for some more friction. "I've been wet for you since I first saw you."

"Fuck. I know, baby," he breathed into your ear, two fingers slipping slowly inside you and stretching you out. "I could tell. You weren't hiding it very well, baby. How much you wanted me to ruin you. Which is why daddy's been hard for you all this time, too." Your breath was hitching as he was moving his hands slowly, not even trying to fuck you like that, just trying to get you ready for his cock. And he stopped. "Are you gonna let daddy fuck you raw, baby?"

You almost screamed. "Fuck, yes, daddy, please! Fuck me open with your cock."

Namjoon was growling as he retrieved his fingers from inside you. "What a dirty mouth! Who taught you to speak like that, you dirty, little whore? I thought you were a good girl."

Your nails were scratching his back as you whined and squirmed underneath him. "Oh, daddy, please! I need you! I'll be good for you."

And you felt the tip of his dick press against your entrance as he shushed you. "Alright then. Be a good girl for daddy and take this big cock like the good, little slut you are." And he shoved himself in you.

"O–oh my god!" you yelped. Namjoon didn't go easy on you, didn't go slow or gentle, he started pounding you fast and hard right away, truly fucking you open like you had asked him to. You were squirming underneath him but his body was so big and strong, it was caging you completely. And just to shut you up he kissed you again, tongue so deep in your mouth he was choking you. Namjoon was fucking you so hard he brought tears to your eyes, and you felt euphoric being used by him like that.

"My dirty, little cunt," he rasped after he freed your mouth. "Like taking my cock like that?" You were nodding, mewling, unable to speak. "What a good girl. Letting daddy fuck her as hard as he wants." He leaned back, grabbing your arms until he had your wrists pinned above your head and the new position gave him the ability to piston his hips against yours even faster, diving even deeper.

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum," you cried, legs shaking as they fought against his abusing thrusts between them.

"So easy," Namjoon panted with a smirk. "So easy to please you. Gonna cum cuz you've never had dick like daddy's before, huh? No one's ever fucked you this good? Those little boys your age, I bet they don't know shit about pleasing a nasty girl like you." He spat on his free hand and brought it right down on your clit, pressing on it hard. And you were moaning even louder. "There you go, baby. You can cum on daddy's dick now."

"Namjoon–" you yelped, and you felt your orgasm pop, gushing all your juices over him as he kept fucking you through it. He slowed down a bit, coming down to kiss you sloppily as you continued to whine with each thrust against your sensitive, tight walls.

"That's my good girl," he whispered, kissing you almost lovingly. "Don't worry, baby. We're not nearly done yet." And his thrusts slowly got deeper and deeper. "You really shouldn't have let me fuck you, baby. Cuz now I don't ever plan on stopping."

Masterlist | Part 2

#bts #bangtan #namjoon #kim namjoon #request #rm #drabble #oneshot #smut #dilf namjoon #bts drabble #bts smut #namjoon drabble #namjoon smut #namjoon oneshot #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader

[curmudggeon]

Southern Hope (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

❝ If by any chance...in another lifetime, we happen to see each other again, I'll come and find you. And I'll make you fall in love with me, over and over again ❞

In which romance novelist, Mary-Beth under the pen name of Leslie Dupont, writes a coming of age love story based on her favourite gang members in the past, You and Arthur.

Trigger Warnings; Violence | Blood | Angst | Sexual Intentions

A/N: This is a project I've been working on for quite a while. I had the idea in mind when I had the chance to experience the musical composition of Aaron Copland's quintessential American Dream, 'Appalachian Spring' -one of my favourite pieces with such a beautiful storyline. And I wanted to retell it in the form of a book that is available on my Wattpad (ongoing) for you to enjoy from Mary-Beth's POV. I hope you show love to this book as much as I loved writing it. Have a sneak peek at the prologue!

Read on Wattpad here for more chapters to come!

PROLOGUE

Leslie Dupont; Mary-Beth Gaskill

Lemoyne, Saint Denis

November 1907

-

“Mademoiselle Dupont, we expect your next manuscript to be submitted by next summer. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.”

Here we go again

Mary-Beth sighed as her editor, Céline Laurent, had warned her once more for not meeting the deadline to her books. She was in a crucial position in her life. After her debut as a romance novelist, The Lady of The Manor was an instant best-seller across the country. It was the kind of thing she specializes in, silly ol’ romances.

“I promise you, I’ll get it done by then.” Or maybe, at least not for now. She shouldn't have promised something she couldn’t keep, especially in the meantime.

“I’ll take your word for that, if you don’t meet the deadline by then. Y’know what will happen to your contract, Leslie.” Céline stood at the door frame of Mary-Beth’s office with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.

She knew exactly what she had meant. In fact, she knew the consequences on the back of her head when she first signed that contract with her publishing company. Two more books were requested of her. Or else she would be evicted of her apartment and be forced to live along the streets of Saint Denis for the rest of her life. A life of luxury slipping between her fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary-Beth disclaimed, the moment her editor slammed the door as she left her office. Heaving yet another exaggerated sigh, she crosses her arms on the grand rosewood desk, flopping her head on top of it. “What am I going to do now…” She murmured into the crevice of her arms.

Mary-Beth was in the middle of a major writer’s block for a few months now. She lost sight of that imaginative space of hers, consisting of the most swoon-worthy romances to the picture-perfect life she portrayed through her characters. A part of Mary-Beth that her readers absolutely adored. But, her head was now a clouded space of everlasting void. It was difficult for Mary-Beth to come into terms of writing again, but she couldn’t quite identify what had put her into this position.

Once she gathered the courage to write again, it all came crashing down like violent tidal waves when she came face to the daunting blank page of nothingness —almost drowning her.

It was as simple as that. Come to work, have a cup of tea, sit down, and a blank page.

Every. Damn. Time.

Maybe it was because she was already nearing her mid-thirties, and she hasn’t found someone to sweep her off her feet. Maybe it was when she first held Tilly’s baby that she found the need to be a mother someday. Maybe it was the overwhelming response towards her writing, she felt the need to hide away into an abyss. Or maybe she couldn’t stop thinking about the time she had come across John again after so many years that the memories just come flooding back.

Or maybe, just, maybe. It was because it’s November.

The most dreaded time of the year. November, in which the seemingly fearsome Van der Linde gang had officially broken up. Guns were fired, ties were broken and deaths were grieved. An unforgettable, painful memory.

She would often think about campfire songs, the girls and, Miss Grimshaw’s constant nagging about undone chores. Oh, how best of friends Céline and Miss Grimshaw would have been if she had heard Mary-Beth had been slacking again. It was her coping mechanism, think more about the good times to get rid of the bad ones.

Mary-Beth remembered when she took in her hands at being a matchmaker. Prancing around the camp, she would eye her two best contenders. You and Arthur.

She knew from the start when you had laid your eyes on each other for the first time, she could see through the inexplicable connection in between. You were both extremely awkward when it came to small-talk or addressing each other as you walked by across camp. However, it never stopped Arthur to come to camp as soon as he could just so he could see you, even just for a second.

The conversation would often start with Arthur while on his way to Dutch’s tent,

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Yea sure…”

—and that would be it.

At the same time, every single day, at the course of sunset.

You poor socially inept fools.

Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen would always see the interaction happen in the middle of their afternoon chores. Grinning from ear to ear. They would elbow each other whenever there was something different about the correspondence.

One time, you would walk past him, suddenly kissing him on the cheek and scurrying away.

Arthur would stop in his tracks, stunned, with a hand-over where your kiss tingled on his skin. Then he would look back at you as you laid down, smiling to yourself against a tree with a book in your hands. And Dutch would yell his name, knocking him out of his stupor before he noticed he was staring for a little too long.

The girls would start applauding for your heroic performance, it was like a groundbreaking plot twist Mary-Beth couldn’t wait to write about when the idea came into mind.

The both of you were like a walking excruciating slow, slow-burn romance novel. That was when Mary-Beth would cue in her entrance as matchmaker as soon as the interaction slowly died down. Your story had to have a happily ever after in her book.

She would pester you and Arthur separately, mentioning each other’s names and slipping in hints of romantic intentions from the other side so the both of you can address whatever this relationship was.

Mary-Beth knew it was a mission accomplished the night Sean was rescued back to Horseshoe Overlook. When she stood aside of the camp watching Dutch and Molly ballroom dancing into the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of you and Arthur behind them. Running into the woods, hand in hand, giggling to yourselves like prepubescent teenagers.

After that night, it was a considered job well done when your chance encounters slowly turned into planned ones. He would take you on dates, and you would show him affection like nobody’s business. A perfect couple, your American dream.

Until it became a nightmare.

And Arthur had passed,

your Arthur.

Ever since then, Mary-Beth wondered what had happened to you. Were you still alive after all these years? She couldn’t imagine how hard you must be coping with the news. Or what if you didn’t know at all? Even when she asked John and Tilly, they said you disappeared that night he passed.

Not even a single trace. Where were you?

Mary-Beth dismissed the thought out of her head, lifting her head away from the desk. She had to let go of these memories for her own well-being. For what seemed like yesterday were merely years ago. But it couldn’t have hurt to reminisce just a bit, for old times sake.

The story of You and Arthur was unwritten, left to collect dust from the lack of content. The perfect example of a sepia-tinted photograph, forgotten. Mary-Beth believed the both of you deserved something much more than a devastating ending. She wasn’t as ruthless as the other authors she had met that held an iron fist when killing off their characters. Mary-Beth wasn’t like that.

And the idea came to mind. She was a romance novelist for a reason; to fulfil all the possibilities for the unconditional love you shared.

And so Mary-Beth picked up her beautiful fountain pen,

She began to write on the great desk in her quiet room.

To write the most beautiful story of the century,

You and Arthur. Arthur and you.

A perfect couple. The American Dream.

A life that could have been so much more,

A life to remember…

#rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan ff #arthur fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fic #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 tag #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x y/n #mary beth gaskill #van der linde gang #rdr ff #arthur morgan fanfic

[chaoticparker]

Vulnerable

Tom holland x fem!reader

Summary: After a breakup years ago, Tom can’t quite seem to move on. So he tries to win you back.

warnings: like the tiniest bit of angst?? lol but i don’t think it even counts

w/c: 4.6k

a/n: this is very, very, very, very, loosely inspired by Always Be My Maybe (ie I started writing this half way through the movie and it barley follows the plot and I change a whole bunch of shit) 

masterlist

Is it possible to forget what a kiss feels like? One that lingers on your lips in a bittersweet way; not knowing that it will be the last time and hating yourself for not savoring it. Is it possible to not hate yourself for not savoring the way you kissed, the way you laughed, the way you smiled? Not savoring the little moments, because to Tom, he thought that those little moments would be one of millions. 

Millions that would happen over a lifetime.

After being on cloud nine for the past few weeks with the announcement of his first big break, your conversation brought him back down to reality. He felt powerless after, like there was nothing he could do. Having his heart ripped out by the one person he felt he could be vulnerable around was a different type of pain that he never thought he could experience, or rather, would experience.

Just before he left London you talked. You knew the relationship would be hard work to keep up because of the long distance. He would be gone for months on end while meeting new people, figuring out who he is and trying to figure out his place in the film world. There was no point in keeping a leash on him. And it wasn’t even fair to you. You wanted to focus on your schooling and Tom respected that, in fact he should’ve expected it. 

What came out from this deal was two things: money, and fame. But what he lost in the end surpassed everything else.

“You alright?” Harrisons voice through the phone snapped Tom out from his everlasting thoughts of what would of been. 

“Fine, fine.” Tom cleared his throat, coming through his hair with his hand. “Just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve been back.”

Currently, Tom’s back in London on break after filming. It was long overdue in everyone's opinion. But after the event happened, Tom made a small vow to never step foot back onto London soil unless it was absolutely necessary. Justifying his little trips that it was for work or his parents wanted to see him, but now he was here for pleasure, no excuse. And after years of being ‘good’, why not indulge a little?

And apparently, Harrison easily saw Tom’s plan.

“You sure you’re not thinking about the people here?” Harrison laughed a little dryly. “You know, she might’ve moved to the city.”

“Oh yeah? What are the chances that I’m going to see her in a city filled with millions of people?” Tom scoffed.

“Well what were the chances of you getting Spider-man?” Harrison fought back. “You seem to have an extreme amount of luck so you might as well take advantage of it.” As usual, Harrison always tried to cheer up his friend with moments like these. Constant worrying and never truly moving on always got on his nerves. He was getting tired of telling Tom to just do something. Anything.

“I prefer to call it talent.” Tom grumbled. “But what if she wouldn’t want to see me? What if she is seeing someone else?” He started panicking in the backseat of the car he was in, he tried his best to keep himself in check, just until he reached the house. God, he didn’t even know if you're here and he’s already panicking about seeing you?

“Don’t worry Tom-”

“How can you tell me not to worry!” Tom yelled. He looked up and saw the driver glancing away from looking in the rearview mirror. “You have never gotten your heart ripped from your chest and shredded right in front of you!” He said in a much more quiet tone but with the same anger.

“I said don’t worry, because I found her, Tom. Fuck, you need to stop interrupting people-”

“You found her?” Tom shirked, earning another strange look from the driver.

“Yes I did and you need to stop doing that.” Harrison scolded, then let out a heavy sigh after a couple beats. “Look mate, I've got to go, I'll see you later, yeah?”

“Wait-” 

Harrison hung up on Tom quickly, then went to his contacts and clicked on Harry’s name. Harrison paced as he waited for his friend to answer, the constant, never ending ringing was driving him more anxious. 

“Hey mate, what's up?” Harrison sighed in relief. 

“I accidentally told Tom that I’ve found Y/n.” Harrison said in one breath.

Harry was quiet for a couple of seconds, letting what he said sink in. “You did what?”

“Look I know, I know, but you know when Tom starts acting all whiney and I couldn’t deal with it-”

“Yeah no shit, he gets whiney about the only person he ever loved dumping him with a shit excuse. But what the fuck are you going to do?” Harry fumed. 

“I don’t know thats why I called-”

Harry cut him off. “She could be living in another fucking city, hell she could be living in another country, another continent? She could be dead for all we know-”

“Don't say shit like that, I'm trying to stay positive.” 

“Positive my ass.” Harry shot back. “If you wanted to be positive you would have told Tom he is a great guy and can move on! But instead you fucking lie! Do you know what he’s going to do when he finds out you lied?”

“That’s why he isn’t going to find out.” Harrison seethed. “I only said I found her so she doesn’t have to be here.” Silence on the other end, judgmental silence at that. “She just can't be dead I guess.”

“You guess?” Harry was completely baffled by Harrisons behavior. “You dumb fucker, Tom’s going to want to see her.”

“Yeah so get your ass back here so you can help me track her down, alright?” 

“Calm your tits I’m on my way”

~~

It's been half an hour. Harry’s on his computer next to Harrison who was also on his, scouring the internet for any sign of your name. The only thing they had was your name, and birthday. Or more like three possible birthdays, but it was way more likely that none of them were right. 

Tom’s car was arriving in less than ten minutes and the pressure was on. They both knew that when Tom got through that door, the first thing he would do is ask about you.

They were so deep in thought they didn’t hear Sam calling out their names and walking into the living room until he was standing right in front of them.

“What  are you two shits doing?” They slightly jumped at the voice and glanced up at him before going back to their screens.

“Looking for Y/n.” Harrison mumbled, before looking up to Sam, who had an eyebrow raised. “Long story, please don’t ask.”

“Y’know, I see her like every week.” Harry and Harrison snapped their heads up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What do you mean you see her every week?” Harry slowly asked. 

“Oh yeah, I didn’t want to tell anyone in case Tom found out and started spiraling again. You remember when he found that old t-shirt of his from school in the back of his drawer that she used to wear? He wouldn’t stop crying.” Sam laughed but Harry and Harrison just looked at him with their jaws open.

Harry grabbed Sam by the shoulders. “Again, what?”

Sam pushed Harry’s hands off of him. An annoyed look on his face. “She comes into the restaurant like once a week. She normally comes in with one of her coworkers and gets take-out. We always say hi but nothing else.” He shrugged like it was nothing and didn’t understand why Harry and Harrison were staring at him like that.

“Do you have her number?” Harrison asked.

“No, but she should be coming in tomorrow.” Sam said, still a little confused why they were trying to figure out your whereabouts.

Harry and Harrison were both thinking the same thing: if they could get Tom to ‘accidentally’ run into you, Tom could get the weird sort of closure that he so desperately wanted. Meaning that they wouldn’t have to deal with his constant whining. 

“Hey guys I’m back!” Tom’s voice carried throughout the house as the front door slammed shut.

“We’re coming to work with you tomorrow.” Harry seethed and his demeanor changed when Tom was in their eyesight.  “Welcome back mate! How you been?” Harry wrapped his arm around Tom as a side hug and Tom just smiled. But clearly his mind was somewhere else. 

“Where is she?” Tom asked. He tried his best to keep his voice stern, but he couldn’t help the little voice crack. 

“She lives in London.” Harrison started. He saw Tom’s face trying his best to stop looking so eager, trying to calm his smile, but it was no use. “And she’s going to Sam’s work tomorrow for lunch.”

Tom gave a bear hug to Harrison. “Thank you.” He whispered. 

~~

Tom stood in front of his bedroom mirror changing his outfits with an array of clothing littered on his floor. He couldn’t settle on one outfit. First he thought about wearing a suit, going fancy and it would be a not so subtle way to impress you. The suit was made to impress Hollywood, so it should impress you. But would it? Or would it just come off as cocky and not down to earth. 

He changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, something he would wear more often when you first started dating. He wanted to impress you but also remind you of the ‘good old times’ that he so desperately wanted to get back.

Deciding on a jeans and shirt combo, he thought it would be best to have extra accessories. He pulled out his watch case, which was a hundred dollar black leather box that contained at least a million dollar worth of watches. It would be a subtle flex, something that could draw your attention and be a good talking point. He carefully got one out and put it on his wrist, making sure it was placed in the most complementary position.

Looking at himself in the mirror one last time he couldn’t help the feeling in the pit of his stomach and his mind coming up with all of the reasons why he can’t do this. He was getting ahead of himself. For all he knew you could be dating someone, married to someone, be in love with someone.

Glancing at his closet, he decided he needed to change his outfit. Rummaging through all of his clothes he got out the most expensive thing he owned and threw it onto the bed. About to take his shirt off, Harrison knocked on the door and came in.

“Mate we need to go or else you’ll miss her.” Harrison looked back onto the bed and saw Tom’s suit that he was about to change into as well as the array of clothes littered on his floor. He tried to bite back a laugh at the utter and complete mess he was, he had forgotten how whipped he was for you back in the day and it was no surprise that he would be this uneasy.

“There's no time to change. You look good.” Harrison tried his best to calm down Tom but there was nothing he could really say for certain that would soothe Tom. He wanted to be able to tell Tom that you missed him, that you haven’t found someone else, that you still loved Tom. But he didn’t want to give Tom any more false hope. It was pure luck that Sam ran into you at his job, and Harrison didn’t want to push it any further.

“But what if she doesn’t like this?” Tom asked, gesturing to himself. He looked back in the mirror, judging every hair out of place, every freckle that drew too much attention, or even the blush across his face that came when he thought of you.

“She’ll like it, now come on man we need to go.” Harrison was able to drag Tom out of his room and into the car where Harry was already sitting, scrolling on his phone to pass the time. 

“Ready?” Harry asked. Putting his phone away and turning the car on. Harrison nodded and they headed to the restaurant. 

“Should I have gotten her flowers?” Tom wondered in a small voice. 

Harry and Harrison looked at each other and sighed. “Why would you get her flowers?” 

Tom shrugged. “It’s been five years since our first date.”

“So you want to get her an anniversary gift even though you haven’t seen each other in years?” Harrison remarked. “She’s not expecting you.”

“Dunno, I just want her to like me again.” Tom mumbled, he didn’t really want the others to hear but of course they did.

“Hey Tom?” Harry started. “You might have to prepare for… for things not going your way.” Even though he didn’t say it, everyone knew what Harry was going for. Tom had to be ready in case you weren’t interested or in a relationship. But Tom wasn’t sure how he could ever prepare for his heart to be ripped out again.

“I know.” And that's the last thing Tom said for the rest of the car ride. 

Harry pulled into the restaurant's parking lot and got out. Tom put on his sunglasses and hat as a weak attempt to not get the attention of anyone other than you. They walked through the front door and took in the place.

It was a nice restaurant, busy of course, but the atmosphere was personal, almost like you’ve been coming to this place since you were young. 

“Hey, you guys are here!” Sam called out and waved his hand for them to come to the back room, away from the crowd but still in eye shot of the front door. 

“When do you think she’ll be here?” Tom quickly asked, adjusting his clothes and watch, then moving onto his hair.

“I just did her usual order and she ordered it for 12:30 so any second.” Sam recalled. 

“Did you make it nice? The food was cooked perfectly, right?” Tom asked. “She’s not going to get food poisoning.”

“When did I ever give any of you food poisoning?” Sam yelled, lightly punching his brother. “And yes, it's probably one of my best dishes yet.”

“Good.” Tom rubbed his shoulder then looked back at the entrance, when he saw you walk through the door. He froze.

“Go get her, Tom.” Harrison pushed Tom out of the back room and he slowly started walking to you, stumbling along the way.

“What’s his game plan?” Sam asked, leaning over to his friend and whispering. 

“Wanted to impress her. Wore his priciest watch to show off.” Harrison shrugged. Sam laughed and Harrison and Harry raised an eyebrow. “What's so funny?”

“I had to deal with the cash register a little while ago while my buddy was on break and she used one of those luxury credit cards. And with the way she dresses everyday, I don’t think money is something that she's impressed with.”

Tom was mentally kicking himself as he walked up to you. You were wearing an all black pantsuit, one that he swears he saw on a model. Your hair was done nicely too, in fact everything about you was beautiful and professional. He immediately regretted not wearing his suit, punching himself for wearing unprofessional jeans and t-shirt. How was he ever supposed to win you back like this.

“Tom?” Your voice was just as angelic as Tom remembered. You smiled at him, and excused yourself from the person you were with as you came up to him. “How are you?” 

Tom remembered just in time how to talk. “Good, yeah, good. How are you, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just working at a publishing house down the street. What about you?” You asked. 

God had Tom missed your voice.

“Well, acting is amazing. I honestly can’t complain.” Tom smiled, he tried to roll up his sleeves to show off his watch as a last ditch attempt to impress you. You glanced at it then you looked behind you and your colleague seemed to have gotten the food and was ready to go. 

“Sorry this is not a good time? I didn’t want to bother you.” Tom apologized.

You shook your head. “No- well yes, I’m just really busy right now, why don’t you come around at 2? Kelly, can I have a card?” The woman next to you, Kelly, handed you a small piece of paper and you handed it to Tom.

“Tell the person at the desk you're here to see me. I’ll see you then.” You smiled and left with Kelly. 

Tom was left starstruck, he didn’t even look at the slip of paper, he just watched you walk away. Bittersweet thing, the last time he saw you left he thought it was his last but now there was hope. 

A sliver at least.

His brothers and Harrison came up behind him. 

“How was it?” “What did she give you?” “How bad did you mess it up?” They all chimed. Tom finally remembered the slip of paper and looked at it. He saw your initials and written right beside it shocked him.

“She’s a CEO?” Harry yelled. He took the slip of paper and looked at it. “What did she go to college for again?”

“Literature.” Tom spoke, still in shock and slowly starting to panic from seeing you.

“Good for her.” Harrison took the business card from Harry. “Says here she works for Zenith Press. Sam look it up.”

Sam took out his phone and looked it up. Harry leaned over to Harrison and whispered. “How the hell did we not find her online?”

Harrison shrugged and looked back at Sam. “She uses just her initials on her card. Must go by that publicly.”

“Zenith Press apparently is the new publishing house that is pushing out older and other well known houses. On their website they ‘focus on publishing new authors with creative and diverse ideas.’” Sam read, scrolling on his phone. When he finished, he put his phone back into his back pocket. “I got to go, but I’m sure you did great.”

They waved Sam off and Harry and Harrison started to walk Tom out of the restaurant and back into the car. “Tom, are you okay?” Harry asked.

Tom had your business card in his hands and he was twisting it around between his fingers. “She doesn’t care.”

“Doesn’t care about what?”

“Doesn't care that I’m rich.” Harry and Harrison scoffed causing Tom to go red. 

“Why would she need to care that you're rich, Tom?” Harrison tried to hold in another laugh at his friend's behavior. 

“Because.” He sighed. “That's how I was planning on winning her back! I flashed her my watch and she didn’t care! I told her about my job and she didn't care!”

“Alright what did she say?” Harry asked.

“She invited me to her work at 2.” Tom shuddered. 

“Why the fuck are you scared Tom? You got what you wanted, no?” Harrison argued. He honestly had no idea why Tom would be scared to see you again. Things have changed for him so of course things would change for you, he just needed to understand that.

“She was so serious though- like all business. What if she just doesn’t like me anymore?” Tom complained. “What if I don’t fit into her life?”

“Tom, grow up, she wouldn’t have invited you to her work if she didn’t want to see you.” Harry pointed out. He pulled into the house and got out of the car. “Just be yourself, that's it.”

“And besides.” Harrison chimed in, “If she loved you when you still had that shit haircut, there’s no reason she won't love you now.”

~~

A little under two hours later Tom stood in the elevator to your work going up to see you. When he got home he told the others he was going to take a nap but instead he used his laptop to figure out everything he could about your company and your life now and change into something a bit more tasteful. 

You kept off of social media, or at least you didn’t use your real name. He even tried to look you up with your initials and all that came up was interviews with different news outlets and authors. But you revealed nothing about your personal life so he had no idea what he was walking into, the least he could do was dress up and be more professional. Pulling out the sweet Tom Holland charm.

The elevator doors pinged open and he walked to the secretary. “Hey I’m here to see Y/n Y/l/n.”

“I’m sorry but you need an appointment to see the CEO. If you want I could schedule you in for…” The secretary looked at the computer next to him, clicking through windows. “For November 7th at 11:00 am, would that work for you sir?”

“What? No. She told me to come up here and meet her at 2”

“Yeah yeah very likely sir, now you’ll have to leave.” The secretary got up from his desk and tried to wave him off. “Tons of people come up here saying that.”

“But she told me to come here! Personally! ” Tom fumed. “Do you know who I am? I am Tom Holland-”

“And I don’t care.” The secretary rolled his eyes and sat back down.

“What? How do you not care?”

“I prefer Andrew if I’m honest.” 

“What? How dare you-”

“Tom?” Your voice got Tom out of his little tantrum. Most likely saving him from saying some crude words that would not do well for his image.

“Hey, how are you?” Tom smiled and hesitated whether or not he was supposed to give you a hug or not. He settled for an awkward handshake that he most definitely held onto for a bit too long.

“Good, good. Hopefully Alex wasn’t giving you too hard of a time.” You smiled at Tom and you both started walking.

“You have no idea.” He groaned.

“You’d be surprised at how many celebrities come in here to try and get their book published.” You shrugged your shoulders and walked at a quick pace. “He’s been really good at keeping them away.”

Last time Tom felt this feeling in the pit of his stomach and rising to his chest was when you would go out and some guy would come up offering you a cup of coffee, completely ignoring his hand around your waist all those years ago. And now he finds out other celebrities come into your office?      

You eventually found your way back to your office and took your seat behind your desk. Tom sat at one of the chairs in front of the desk. If he wasn’t scared before, he definitely would be scared now. Your desk and chair looked like a throne in Tom’s eyes, and you were sitting before him, making that tang of jealousy be replaced by pure fear.

You cleared some things off your desk and looked back at Tom. “So, why are you here?”

“You invited me-”

“No I mean why did you come up to me at the restaurant?” Your voice was much calmer. Not as stuttery and hesitant when you were younger. Tom felt bad for seeing all of the differences between you now and you then but he couldn’t help it. You were grown, and more confident about yourself, something Tom admired, something he wishes had happened to him.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Tom answered; vaguely, yes, but still he answered. It was a step in the right direction.

“About what?” You pressed. 

“I, uh, missed you.” Tom stated. “And I-I was wondering if you were seeing anyone.” Thinking he was going to say it anyway and desperately needed to get it off his chest, so he might as well do it now.

You bit back a smirk and leaned back into your chair. You shook your head, “nope, I’m not seeing anyone.” It was funny seeing Tom acting like this, he never acted like this. He got better at hiding his fears, all of that acting finally paying off in the real world, but you still saw through his mess.

Of course you kept tabs on him, hell it's why you would go to the same restaurant his brother works at every Friday. You saw his movies and were proud, you couldn’t help but think you helped him get to where he is. You allowed him to focus on his career and not his girlfriend back home who was off doing her own thing. It was best for the both of you, and you knew that, but it didn’t seem like he knew that.

“Oh.” Tom cleared his throat. 

“Anything else?”

“I wanted to win you back.” You froze for a moment. You knew this was coming but it was different now that he was here, sitting in front of you and saying it to your face. 

It would never work, he travels all the time and you work too much. There was a reason your calendar was booked up until next November. 

“Tom, do you remember why we broke up?” Your voice was now much more familiar to Tom, not all business and not all serious, but just like that night.

“You said you wanted to go our separate ways.”

“I didn’t want to hold you back.” You smiled. You reached for Tom’s hand and held it. “And without that, you wouldn’t be doing what you’re doing today. And same with me.”

“But we’ve both made it. We’ve both reached our goals. So why can’t we get back together?” Tom asked, his mind going a mile a minute. “Do you not want to?”

You paused again, but you ultimately knew what you wanted, no, needed to say. “Tom, of course I do.” Tom’s ears pricked up and smiled, but he didn’t sense the ‘but’ coming. “But, things are going good Tom, I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“We can make it work-”

“What if we get back together and we can't though?” You questioned. “You travel for months on end and I throw myself at my work. It’s not worth being a couple if we don’t spend time together.”

“I would rather not see you as often then not at all.” Tom tried. “I just missed being with you and dating you and spending time with you, and your laugh, your smile, your voice, your-”

“Alright, alright.” You interrupted, a cheesy smile on your face. “You can stop.”

“Does that mean yes?”

“Yes, but-”

Tom jumped up over the desk and gave you a tight hug. He separated for a second, looking into your eyes. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to ruin anything, but he so desperately wanted to kiss you. And you could tell, so you closed the gap and gave him the long awaited kiss.

You both poured all of your love into the kiss and it really showed because although you both haven't been together in years, the kiss was definitely better than any before. 

You both pulled away for air and smiled. “Where are you gonna take me out for our second first date?”

“Right after you tell me what celebrities are bothering you about a book deal and how I can get one.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine

[tillidontneedfantasy]

A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 9th Studio Album: ‘evermore’

“My collaborators and I are proud to announce that my 9th studio album and folklore’s sister record is here. It’s called evermore,” is how Taylor Swift introduces us to this album in its foreword. One might assume a “sister record” would entail b-sides, or tracks that didn’t quite make the cut for folklore, despite Taylor’s explanation that “we just couldn’t stop writing songs.” evermore’s release came at a strange time, upon the heels of the Folklore: Long Pond Studio Sessions film on Disney+, as well as 5 Grammy nominations for folklore. The world still captivated by folklore, it’s understandable why one might not consume evermore as critically. Even as a die-hard fan, I felt some whiplash by this announcement; I am still processing folklore! Hell, I’m still processing reputation!

If this was the Taylor from two years ago, this may have been a big enough fear of hers to hold off on releasing evermore. But as she explained upon folklore’s surprise release, life is too unpredictable now, and there are zero givens or guarantees. So she followed the same path this time (although making sure it fell in line with her birthday weekend). But it’s not just the strategic timing of the release that she’s thrown out the window for now, but also her mindset whilst making records. As she explains in the evermore album foreword,

“I’ve never done this before. In the past I’ve always treated albums as one-off eras and moved onto planning the next one as soon as an album was released. There was something different with folklore. In making it, I felt less like I was departing and more like I was returning. I loved the escapism I found in these imaginary/not imaginary tales. I loved the ways you welcomed the dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found. So I just kept writing them.”

This is a revelation for Swift, to let the music lead her into artistic freedom, which is what makes evermore such a triumphant return. Truly folklore’s sister record, Taylor wrote evermore with the same creative team: Aaron Dessner of The National (Swift’s favorite band), long-time pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, and William Bowery aka Swift’s boyfriend, Joe Alwyn (as officially revealed in the Long Pond Studio Sessions). Additionally, former 1989 tour openers and close friends of Taylor, the HAIM sisters, join the crew, along with Marcus Mumford for some dreamy backup vocals.

The production is just as wistful and mesmerizing as it was on folklore, yet the storytelling on evermore is kicked up a notch, expanding on the topics and worldbuilding established in its sister record, with even sharper lyrics and an effective and elaborate use of alliteration. The best thing about Taylor is that no matter what she does, her masterful lyricism is always at the heart of her art, and somehow, she keeps getting better. Once again, I wanted to explore the rich stories she’s crafted in this woodsy universe. This is how I’ve interpreted the album, but I hope you find your own meaning in the songs as well.

1. willow It is fitting that the opening track to folklore’s sister album, where we wade further into the forest that is Taylor Swift’s imagination and storytelling, would center on the type of tree that is a symbol of hope, belonging, safety, stability, and healing. “willow,” one of the few more obviously autobiographical tracks on the album, is a hymn of gratitude for her man (as she wants you to know, yes, thirteen times), Joe Alwyn, and how the invisible string tethering them together pulled her to him in a time when everyone else was counting her out. Though not as present on many of the other songs later to come on this record, you can feel the lightness in her heart on this song as she embraces the way in which the willow has bent, wrecking her plans, throwing her into the water and leaving her happily lost and afloat in his current. The downward key modulation throughout the last two repetitions of the chorus is beautiful and very fitting for Swift vocally, but also sounds like the feeling of finding your comfort and settling into it, basking it in while you wait for the next place the wind pulls you. Best lyric: “Now this is an open/shut case / I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face / Every bait and switch was a work of art.”

2. champagne problems On the second track of the album, Taylor dives back into the fictional worldbuilding she began to explore on folklore. While on folklore high school relationships and dramatics took center-stage, evermore graduates from adolescence to young adulthood, not that it is any easier emotionally on the listener’s heart. “champagne problems” chronicles a rejected marriage proposal between two college sweethearts at their old dorm building. Taylor sings as the narrator, a reflective, self-deprecating young woman who jokes about belonging in a madhouse and dismisses all her turmoil as champagne problems. The term ‘champagne problems’ itself could have various meanings here: their trivial concerns, the fact that their “sister splashed out on the bottle” of champagne that they will not be using to celebrate as they had hoped, or perhaps it could even hint that excessive drinking is a piece of all the ways the narrator is “fucked in the head,” as they said. Although the person she is singing to is the one who got hurt in the story, the hurt in the narrator’s heart is just as palpable and relatable, because you only have yourself to blame when you self-destruct. Best lyric: “’She would’ve made such a lovely bride, / what a shame she’s fucked in the head,’ they said / but you’ll find the real thing instead / she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”

3. gold rush On her YouTube live chat prior to the album’s release, Taylor explained that this song “takes place inside a single daydream where you get lost in thought for a minute and then snap out of it.” The daydream consists of a love story so pure that the town had never seen such a thing; it could only happen in a fantasy for the narrator. How could she possibly have the gall to call them out on their contrarian shit, or end up with her Eagles t-shirt hanging from their door, when they are so coveted by all, and when she cannot withstand the thought of even competing? She sings, “My mind turns your life into folklore / I can’t dare to dream about you anymore,” a sweet little connecting piece to this album’s older sister, effectively convincing herself out of the idea of jumping into the chaos of the gold rush because even inside her own imagination it’s too dangerous. Best lyric: “I don’t like that falling feels like flying ‘till the bone crush.”

4. ‘tis the damn season According to Aaron Dessner, Taylor had written the lyrics for “’tis the damn season” in the middle of the night amidst their Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions recording after a long night of chatting and drinking with their co-conspirator, Jack Antonoff. The lyrics perfectly encapsulate the guttural ache the track evokes. It is a tale of two people who always find their way back to one another in their hometown, which acts as the ever-returning fork in the road. The path taken, back to L.A. in pursuit of her dreams, is the one she chose and continues to choose, but whenever she returns home, she takes a ride down the road not taken, just to get a taste of what could have been, even if just for the weekend. What starts off as an icy homecoming always transforms into the warmest intimacy. The success of this track is aligned with the success of Taylor’s entire career; even with such specific details, it feels so deeply personal to the listener. You know the street you’d drive along late at night laughing, the spot you’d park the car, the person who stars in every what-if. You will never really know if the road not taken is as good as it seems, but that might be ok; sometimes, the fantasy is better than the reality, anyway. Best lyric: “It’s the kind of cold / fogs up windshield glass, but I felt it when I passed you / There’s an ache in you / put there by the ache in me.”

5. tolerate it Inspired by the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, “tolerate it” is an agonizing track from the perspective of a devoted wife who polishes plates and paints portraits and waits by the door for her husband with a battle hero’s welcome, who at best tolerates all her adoration. There are few things as painful as idolization being met with indifference, when you have all this love to give to someone who just leaves it there untouched. “tolerate it” captures that desperation for the approval you know will never arrive, but you sit and watch, waiting for it just in case you’re wrong, but you know you’re not. Best lyric: “I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life / drawing hearts in the byline”

6. no body, no crime feat. HAIM “no body, no crime,” the one evermore song solo-written by Taylor, has the clearest plot from beginning to end. In the same vein as the female powerhouse country classic “Goodbye Earl” by The Chicks, Taylor is out for blood to avenge her friend, Este (named for one of the HAIM sisters). The story goes as such: Este’s husband kills her for calling him out on his infidelity, and then Taylor kills the husband and frames his mistress. The HAIM girls, who are long-time friends of Taylor’s and former touring mates, lend their vocals to reinforce the accusation on the husband and to provide Taylor’s alibi. “no body, no crime” is so far the closest we’ve gotten to a return to “country Taylor,” proving that she is still the master of a killer country tune (yes, pun intended, it had to be done I’m sorry). Best lyric: “Good thing Este’s sister’s gonna swear she was with me / (she was with me, dude) / Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy”

7. happiness Written a week before the album’s release, “happiness” is one of Swift’s strongest and most reflective breakup songs. Although she writes it as though it is recent, there’s a lot of power in knowing that she’s been happily in love for four years, and that she is even better now at doing the thing that has always been best at. She is finally “above the trees,” as she sings, and is able to see it all for what it is, but her character is still in the heat of it all, trying to navigate the stages of grief when a relationship ends. We see the narrator grapple with many of those stages throughout the song. Most striking is the anger displayed in the second verse when she sings: “I hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you / No, I didn’t mean that, / sorry, I can’t see facts through all of my fury.” That section is jarring and feels like one of the most honest moments in a Taylor song, the insanely difficult emotional balancing act when we are grieving a relationship. The devastation of loss can distort our perception, and a part of that is the difficulty of understanding how multiple seemingly opposing things can co-exist in our hearts, such as happiness because of someone and happiness after them. But when you leave it all behind and finally find your place above the trees, you can find happiness after someone and also look back and appreciate the happiness they once provided. Both of these things can be true. Best lyric: “Showed you all of my hiding spots / I was dancing when the music stopped.”

8. dorothea Taylor Swift has the uncanny ability to create such developed and well-rounded characters with such little information, which is what makes her storytelling so compelling. In “dorothea,” we learn much about the title character through the narrator’s eyes, and the relationship they once had. The lyric “skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes” alone tells an entire story in itself. “dorothea” is also the companion song to “’tis the damn season,” just from the other person’s perspective, which helps shine even more light on the story. The narrator of “dorothea” reveres her but wonders if she’s still the same soul in L.A. as she was back in their never-changing town. Whatever the answer, they’re still willing to support her no matter where she is, but she’s always welcome back in Tupelo by her hometown love’s side if she ever just wants to be herself rather than someone known for who they know. Besides, they’re the only soul who can tell which smiles she’s faking. And you can always return to the road not taken. Best lyric: “They all wanna be ya / but are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? / Well, I guess I’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show.”

9. coney island feat. The National What really started the folklore / evermore journey was Taylor’s love for The National. Taylor has cited them as one of her favorite bands for many years, and as we know, this led to her beautiful new collaborative relationship with Aaron Dessner. So it would make sense for the track written with the intention of this duet to be so well executed; you can feel the love and care Taylor put into writing this song. In her press for these sister albums, she has spoken about trying to channel frontman Matt Berninger’s writing style. But what actually happened was she just produced her own signature lyricism at its sharpest. “We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be / the mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams / sorry for not winning you an arcade ring over and over,” is a hall of famer Swift-ian lyric. “coney island” explores the confusion, hurt, and self-reflection when a passionate affair burns out fast because you did not prioritize that person. And to top it off, Swift and Berninger’s harmonies are achingly beautiful, transporting you right there in the story, on the bench, wondering, over and over. Best lyric: “Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? / Will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

10. ivy Leave it to Taylor Swift to make a song about an affair sound so romantic, and so sympathetic to the narrator, that you’re rooting for adultery. “ivy” tells the tale of a woman in a lifeless marriage, likening her home with him to the tombstone that the widow in town visits each day. I like to think this is the same wife whose husband was out there building other worlds without her in “tolerate it,” because then that means she found someone who celebrates her love, who holds her pain for her, who blooms all over her; they started it, but she’s fighting for it all the way to the end, nonetheless. “ivy” showcases Swift’s gorgeous vocals and her sharp lyrics, with a melody so infectious it is bound to permanently plant its roots in your dreamland. Best lyric: “Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

11. cowboy like me With the beautifully blended backing vocals of Marcus Mumford, “cowboy like me” is an entrancing love story of two con artists who lost at their own game and got conned into forever with each other. She’d gone from swindling old men for their money and fancy cars to falling victim to the danger of dancing with someone who only has eyes full of stars, and she knows she’ll pay for it. “cowboy like me” is one of the most romantic tracks on the record, proving that life never plays out quite as we plan. Best lyric: “Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon / with your boots beneath my bed / Forever is the sweetest con.”

12. long story short One of the more pop-sounding tracks on evermore, “long story short” is pretty much a summary of the long story behind reputation (2017). The song is filled with various metaphors for her reputation crumbling around her, and then finally putting her defenses down to be with her lover, someone as “rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky.” It is a sweet ode to her boyfriend, and a gentle comfort to her past self that it will all work out. But it is also an oddly relatable example of how we shrug off our struggles and minimize them to just a “bad time,” when the time she is singing about was obviously something that deeply affected her (as will be further explored in the title track); but sometimes it actually feels good to just shrug it off as just a blip in your life, because at the end of the day, you survived, and that’s what counts- even if you’re not keeping score anymore. Best lyric: “Pushed from the precipice / clung to the nearest lips / long story short, it was the wrong guy. / Now I’m all about you.”

13. marjorie Whereas track 13 on folklore was a tribute to Swift’s paternal grandfather, evermore’s track 13 is a tribute to her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who was an opera singer in the 50s, and passed away in 2003 when Taylor was 13 years old. “marjorie” is quite possibly the most touching track Taylor has ever written thus far in her career. Grief is one of the most difficult topics to tackle in a song; the genius of “marjorie” is that it is simple, yet not understated. Swift reflects on the profound lessons she learned from her grandmother, about the difficult balances of kindness and cleverness, and politeness and power. She curses herself for not cherishing the moments she had with her, for complaining rather than understanding in the moment how admirable her spirit was, for all the amber skies she’d love but will never see. The chorus, blunt and hard-hitting, reminds us that someone does not have to be living to be alive, to be all around, to be with us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing to me now,” Taylor sings towards the end of the song, right before you hear a sample of Finlay’s opera singing in the background, a truly eye-swelling moment. It is clear that Finlay played a pivotal role in Swift’s own ambitions, as she sings, “all your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me.” Marjorie knew she was leaving them in good hands. If you haven’t yet, check out the moving lyric video for the song, where you can see photos and video clips of Marjorie, both throughout her career and in her time with Taylor. Best lyric: “Never be so polite you forget your power, / never wield such power you forget to be polite.”

14. closure On the most experimental track musically on the record, Taylor writes off her need for closure from a relationship of some sort, whether it be romantic or platonic or business, all of which can cause hurt of equal intensity. The subject of the song is trying to make nice with Taylor, and she is just not having it, as it is not coming from a genuine place, but rather to ensure that their life remains picture perfect, or to clear their guilty conscience, or to preserve their own ego. This is a deeply relatable sentiment; as valuable as forgiveness can be, sometimes the person who hurt you just doesn’t deserve it, and all you can do is forgive yourself for blocking their number or shredding their letters. Best lyric: “I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life / staying friends would iron it out so nice.”

15. evermore feat. Bon Iver To close out the standard edition of the album, Taylor joins forces once again with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, with whom she collaborated on the Grammy-nominated duet, “exile” for folklore. However, Swift leads most of the track this time, lamenting the difficult time she went through in 2016. The piano and Swift’s vocals are haunting, particularly when she describes this time in her life as “catching my death,” consumed by a pain that she feels will never end. If you’ve ever been depressed, you know what that feels like, and the dark places it leads you. Although she is singing about a time four years prior, it sounds so present, and it is heartbreaking to hear her in such a state. When Bon Iver comes in, the tempo of the song picks up, the piano riff becomes more erratic, like a winter storm hitting you in the face, and he voices all the anxieties of the cost of such a downfall. But through those anxieties, Taylor finds not a cure, but an anchor in love, and then the tempo slows back down. By the end of the song, Taylor has the foresight to understand that although it may not feel like it now, the pain she is experiencing is not permanent (a sentiment my therapist has been trying to instill in me for years). In her Apple Music interview with Zane Lowe, Taylor explained how the lyrics parallel the times we are in currently, and so it feels really special to have the album end with someone who knows how it feels to be imprisoned by your pain gently comfort us with the wisdom that “this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.” I hope one day soon, as we leave 2020 far behind, we can all truly believe her. Best lyric: “I was catching my breath / barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death.”

16. right where you left me (bonus track) The first bonus track on evermore, “right where you left me,” captures a moment so earth-crushing, a piece of you is trapped in it forever. In this song specifically, the narrator finds herself stuck in the same corner of a restaurant where she was told by someone she loved that they had met someone else. “Glass shattered on the white cloth, everybody moved on,” she sings in mourning. We have all experienced those moments that we could teleport back to if we just closed our eyes; the scenery, what you wore, the smell and taste of the season, the very point in your body where it felt like your insides were collapsing. Or that one particular person, who is long-gone from your life but seeing them is like time-travelling back to that person you once were, ready to pick up where you left off. But as much as you want to stay in that moment forever, just in case it changes in your favor, the cold reality is that the world stops for no one. Best lyric: “If our love died young, I can’t bear witness / And it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong / I’m right where you left me.”

17. it’s time to go (bonus track) “right where you left me” was Taylor’s cry for help to get out of restaurant, and “it’s time to go” is the answer to the call, as she sings in the first line, “when the dinner gets cold, and the chatter gets old / you ask for the tab.” This song is about gathering the strength to leave situations and relationships behind that no longer serve you. She grieves the betrayal of someone she thought to be a twin from her dreams (almost definitely referring to former friend, Karlie Kloss), acknowledges that keeping a marriage together for the sake of the kids often actually has the opposite intended effect (possibly- but not certainly- something she and her brother experienced), and recounts attempting to bargain with someone consumed by greed, only able to leave with herself (absolutely referring to the end of her fifteen-year long business relationship with Scott Borchetta, her former record-label owner). But as painful as leaving all of those situations was, Taylor has gained the wisdom to understand that walking away sometimes takes as much strength as persevering. You can’t stay at the restaurant, or at the mercy of someone else forever; you have to forge your own path, even if it’s in the opposite direction of what you envisioned for so long. And even with all her past success behind her, as folklore and evermore have proved, there is so much more ahead of her. Best lyric: “That old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul / You know when it’s time to go.”

In a time where we are all trapped in our homes and in our heads, the folklore/evermore experience has been the sweetest escape. If anything, the creation of these wonderful sister records has taught me that our most powerful tool in times of distress is our own imagination. Even just the ability to close my eyes while listening to one of these tracks and feel the character’s story is a gift. The way I’ve always been able to pick up Harry Potter and escape to Hogwarts when I’ve felt alone and friendless, I can listen to folklore and evermore when I feel scared or hopeless and escape into this enchanted forest Taylor has built, where I can climb above the trees and see it all for what it is. I feel so lucky to watch Taylor’s imaginative world unravel around me. I can’t wait to see what she creates next.

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: I would literally die for this bitch.  

#evermore #folklore #review #album review #track by track breakdown #pop #folk #taylor swift #the national #aaron dessner #matt berninger #bon iver #justin vernon #haim #este haim #alana haim #danielle haim #swift #taylor #tswift #jack antonoff #marcus mumford #mumford and sons #joe alwyn #william bowery #music #music review

[phoenixyfriend]

Thoughts on “Auntie Soka and Little Leia” now that I’ve actually got it posted:

Call it a director’s cut! The process of actually writing the thing, and also jokes made along the way. Link to the actual fic.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy for image descriptions, even the text screenshots. Might come back that later. Most of this was DMs with @atagotiak​.

This was an entire thing before I even started writing:

Before I decided on ages and stuff Ahsoka, to Jango, who has had zero contact with Kaminoans: Okay I know I'm a Jedi kid so you hate me but this toddler is your clone from the future. Jango, tired: What the FUCK are you talking about. Rex, barely able to talk: Don't you dare leave me with him, Commander! Ahsoka: I'm not going to leave you I just--I'm so tired I'm so fucking tired I haven't slept in five days and someone tried to kidnap Leia two days ago I am so fucking tired I need help

Ben: [twenty years of depression followed by a 'now I'm safe' breakdown over the course of weeks] Sokari: [whatever the FUCK this mess is]

When Ahsoka mentions there only being three other Jedi at the time of her death,  I was thinking Kanan, Yoda, and Obi-Wan (Leia told her about the latter two living past her). She's not counting anyone that received training after the Temple fell, and she didn’t know about Cal.

When Leia says  “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

Depa: I'm no therapist but I diagnose you with "incredibly fucked up." Ahsoka: yeah, that’s fair

"Why did you pick Depa for--" She's pretty and I'm gay. Also because of the Kanan thing But mostly I'm gay "It's not a visual medi--" GAY

Empty of context beyond general post-fic AU: "Hey Sokari, we need to engage in psychological warfare against this individual and--" "I'm going to break into his office and leave a threatening note on his desk and leave no other sign that I was there. He'll see that his security is nothing and the only reason he isn't dead is because I'm too nice to kill him." "...okay, not what we were planning, but that works. Why is that your first choice?" "I really like breaking and entering, it's soothing." Ben just standing there with a bland smile like This Is Normal.

"We need someone to infiltrate a highly guarded facility in hostile territory." "So we're sending the Torrent kids?" [sigh] "We're sending the Torrent kids."

Rex and Sokari insist on both going by "Torrent" even though Rex could be a Fett. Jango really wants him to be a Fett. Rex has too many grudges to agree to being a Fett for... a while.

I really hope it's blatantly obvious that Ahsoka's not a reliable narrator for some things Ahsoka: Fett could care less if I died Jango: jfc even if you are older than me I can see you're fucked up. Drink your hot chocolate. Hells. She's got good reason to expect him to hate her as a Jedi! BUT. THAT IS NOT REFLECTIVE OF REALITY

We don’t get a lot of actual characterization for Jango, but the way I played him out here is he has never really parsed that Jedi are people before all this. It's a lot harder to treat them as a monolith when the traumatized former child soldier is having regular breakdowns in your shitty little kitchen

Fett: I respect you Ahsoka: No, don't do that

Ahsoka’s vigilantism is something that, in my mind, she's associating heavily with Zygerria and then the clones.

I figured that she never bothered to learn Quinlan’s teacher’s name but in the process of looking up some basic facts (whether he had a surname), I found that Wookiepedia was forced to give us a VERY wide range of possible death in Legends.

Please take a moment to imagine Quinlan's FACE when Ahsoka initially dismisses him. Quinlan has put a lot of effort into being rogueishly charming! It's very useful for his line of work! He knows to expect either irritation or a return flirtation when he acts like this with people his own age! Ahsoka is not flustered OR rolling her eyes and insulting him, she's just ignoring him and it's a bit of a blow to the ego

This just makes me really happy:

This was the initial comment I made, as a joke What if Maul is just. There. On one of the planets they make a pitstop at. What if Maul exists as the walking problem he is, but fifteen, and Ahsoka immediately tries to kick his ass and drag him back to Coruscant. I do not have room for this plot but What If

Despite not having room for this plot, I proceeded to write this plot.

Maul is kidnapped and it’s the best thing that ever happened to him HE'S FIFTEEN HE'S DUMB AS SHIT AND HAS A BAD ATTITUDE AND YEAH HE'S A DARKSIDER BUT HE'S FIFTEEN

Ahsoka: I sense... Maul [takes off sprinting] Rex: [immediately takes Jango's blaster and runs after her] Jango: Wait who Tholme: Who Quinlan: Who Jango: [looks at Leia] Leia: I don't know who that is either! Ahsoka, already wrestling a teenager to the ground: Oh no, you're a child, REX STUN HIM AND GRAB THE CUFFS, I'M SURE FETT OR THOLME HAS SOME

Fighting him isn't even legal, they have NO evidence of criminal wrongdoing, so first she needs to yell until he admits to something she can fight him about

Ahsoka: When I see Maul, it's on SIGHT Maul: WHO ARE YOU

Ahsoka: The Force didn't give me hands just to NOT throw them when I run into That Crafty Son Of A Bitch

Ben, when they arrive, after the tearful reunion: You... you brought Maul. Ahsoka: Well, yeah, he's fifteen and kinda dumb. I figured we could drag him here and force him into therapy, see what happens. Ben: I can't quite tell through the gag, but I think he's threatening to feed you your own spleen. Ahsoka: Lol, yeah.

Ben is absolutely on team "get Maul therapy" and will fight the Council on rehabilitating the baby Sith But also it's like. Here's your daughter! And your niece! And your daughter's QPP! Also your best friend, but baby, and his teacher, and the biological origin of a number of people you cared for deeply! AND ALSO THE GUY WHO SPENT LITERAL DECADES CRAVING YOUR DEATH, FOR SOME REASON

I just really want Ahsoka lovingly bullying Maul She gives him noogies and the horns don't protect him because girl has reinforced gloves

Maul's only allowed a low-power training saber and his fights with Sokari involve Much Taunting by her and Eventual Screaming by him, and everyone pops by to see: 1. Sokari doing the most absurd flips, for fun. 2. The bullshit that is ataru-shien reverse-grip jar'kai in the hands of someone who makes it work 3. What a Sith lightsaber form looks like 4. Just the general nonsense that is the way these two fight

Tia said “Wrt ridiculous flips. I'm remembering that time she beheaded four Kryst'ad at once.” and I just Rex brings up the quadruple beheading at one point to get someone to stop asking questions and the awkward, horrified silence almost makes him regret it. And then Sokari just snorts and makes a joke about how Rex once speared a slaver point-blank and everyone's just like hello??? "are you two okay" "no"

Maul absolutely starts crushing on Sokari after a 'sword under chin' moment and she's just very "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you're fifteen, bye" GO MAKE PUPPY EYES AT OBI-WAN OR SOMETHING

The crushes are the worst part of everything, really, she's an attractive young woman that can kick a lot of ass, and a lot of people are into that! Unfortunately, most of those people are a decade younger than she is, mentally, because all the people her actual age look at her and see a child on account of the 17yo body.

It’s almost a good thing she’s in no place mentally for a relationship.

I just want Ahsoka to wear beskar.... I think that would be Nice........

This AU is also what caused this post.

I'm deeply enamored by the idea that Ahsoka can win fights against "older" padawans pretty much unilaterally, even when they team up 2v1 And then she offers to fight 5v1 "But only if I have permission to fight dirty." Ben approves it, a horror show full of "I fought many wars and will scream in your face or kick you in the balls if that's what it takes" follows She wins. There are no permanent injuries, but her reputation certainly gets weirder. Nobody under the rank of Knight agrees to let her fight dirty again. She just lets that stand because, well, she's not actually a padawan, she's thirty-three.

I’m not going to write this but my brain was EVIL and suggested it:

IT WOULD BE REALLY SAD IDK maybe 9yo Anakin has nightmares about what's happening to baby Ahsoka because bullshit about time-traveling force bonds IDK ANYWAY he cries to Sokari about the nightmares and she's like "oh shit" and it's time to go rescue herself from motherfucker unlimited

It's either that or she's like, expecting to welcome mini-me aaaany day now, for like, several months, before she realizes Something Went Wrong. Anakin’s dreams could even start right as she’s starting to realize something’s off.

Obi-Wan has never had a padawan that doesn't at some point bite Even Luke will, when pushed

OH also once the twins get Baby's First Lightsaber (training sabers, not real kyber), Sokari begs to borrow them for a dumb joke and tells Rex to get on her shoulders for a "Grievous Greeting" and they do The Thing

Jango and Ahsoka wrt Quinlan is just “Do I need to beat him up for you” “You realize I’ve beaten up sith lords before?”

JANGO'S TRYING He's just. "Can we be friends? Can I--can I be the guy that just noticeably gets in the way of a creep on the subway so you can be more comfortable without someone making a scene? I'm fucking trying here, give me a hint."

We didn’t actually figure out Jango’s age until this point. The only reason Fett's age matters is for Quinlan making a Wild Oats quip after Jango says he didn't know about Rex until a few weeks ago, and Fett going "How old do you think I am? And how old do you think the kid is?" and Quinlan getting Very Awkward as he does the math. Rex overhears and lets Quinlan sweat for a bit before saying "I'm a genetically-modified clone someone grew in a tube, he didn't know or have reason to know until he saw me with Sokari." Which is like. Eight additional layers of WTF, obviously, but at least Jango gets to avoid awkward wild oats jokes

Like, you’d expect the rebuttal to be ‘he’s my brother just with a biiig age gap’ or ‘he’s my nephew’

I find it very unfortunate for Quinlan that I've decided his defining characteristic in this context is going to be repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth

He’s trying so hard but "That sounds like a cool thing, maybe I'll ask ab--and it's another fucking trauma."

I'm doing Ahsoka&Jango t w i c e (there’s another fic where I’m doing it)

It’s just a fun dynamic! So much resentful respect.

Like she's twenty seconds away from calling him a bitch at any given time and he's just there like "I don't like you but I do see you move like you're about to tell an entire building to get on their knees with their hands in the air and I can respect that" Also she's probably much less judgmental about using blasters than Obi-Wan is The Maul subplot actually started with me daydreaming about Ahsoka grabbing a blaster for Reasons

I like the idea of Jango just deciding the most Useful thing he can do is help teach the Smol how to fight. He's AWKWARD around Rex and Soka because he doesn't know if there's anything he CAN teach them.

I didn’t actually plan for Tholme to figure out the age thing, he just SAID it and I had to sit there like Wait.

Ahsoka, Rex & Leia: ahhh, children Tholme: you say that like you aren’t children

I liked getting to write Rex's little "I have worked with all of them, and they're all Terrible" He loves them But They once got stranded on a planet that didn’t exist and Ahsoka died and Anakin killed a god.

There was research and discussion as to whether Ahsoka could win against Tholme but seeing as she held her own against Vader, and fought Grievous at that physical age without dying, etc.... yeah, the only thing holding her back was her body not being what she was used to, and she’s had a few weeks go adjust.

“I miss being able to just jump off skyscrapers” is such a jedi thing

Jango: I'll take the gun back if he tries to leave, they can't get far before--WHAT THE FUCK He knows Jedi are scary but he’s still not really used to just how over the top ridiculous they are He knows how to deal with Jedi in battle, not Whatever The Fuck These People Are Doing

Rex isn't even a Jedi, he's just so used to working with them. “Oh yes time for free-falling without a parachute again, same shit as always.”

Tia: I’m imagining Jango freaking out and Quinlan and Tholme being like. Concerned but mostly exasperated Clearly if they’re jumping off buildings it must be serious? But jfc they could’ve maybe communicated a bit more?

Leia: I want to finish my juice Tholme: Quin, stay with her while we go figure out what those two are doing. Quinlan: Wait what

Jango: Oh now he’s jumping off a building too??? Tholme: Sokari, you are not registered! You can't legally jump out windows yet! Jango: What the hell is going on? Is this normal?

We don’t necessarily know how often Ahsoka and Maul ran into each other after Mandalore. There was the later thing on Malachor, but other than that I'm just going with the idea that they ran into each other every year or two and just went for the eyes like feral cats

Ahsoka: I need to kick ass and you're coming with me. Rex: Yeah, okay. [several minutes later] Rex: Whose ass are we kicking?

Ahsoka and Rex

Neloms aren’t a SW fruit to the best of my knowledge, I just wanted to mess around with lemons/melons

Jango: you didn’t think any of this through, did you? Rex: you were there, you know we didn’t "When the Jedi says to jump out a window, I jump out a window."

Tholme’s real composed about stalking the ancient nigh-mythical enemy of his people, very “Life is already so goddamn weird”

This fic has been so heavy on the trauma but then I introduce Maul and suddenly it's the worst kind of comedy Nobody is competent, everyone's a little dumb, the bad guy is just grocery shopping

My propensity for banter has turned this into a six-person buddy cop comedy about Maul buying grapes They spend a significant amount to time ineffectually stalking Maul before Quin suggests the sensible option Quinlan just "You remember this is my literal job and specialty right"

Ahsoka sees Maul and all her brain cells go out the window except "Fight good" Usually she doesn’t need to worry about doing things legally. Maybe she needs to worry about someone seeing her do illegal things but she spent the past 15 yrs in a place where her existing was illegal

I feel like he’s also maybe kinda wanting to reassert that yes he is competent. Bc like. Ahsoka’s been kinda condescending this whole time and also can beat everyone up so. It's not his fault that he's actually the youngest person there, but.

Jango is finding this whole being friendly to Jedi thing a lot more overwhelming than he thought it would be. And overwhelming in different ways.

Maul usually signifies things getting worse and more horrifyingly tragic but he's just a dumb teen that they needed to arrest for his own good.

Quinlan: Look, I'm useful! Ahsoka: I've been through hell, wanna hear? Quinlan: NO. I DON'T. WHY.

Quinlan: I understand the concept of joking about your traumas, I do it sometimes myself! But sith hells that’s a lot of trauma.

Quinlan just wanted her to treat him as a Competent Individual, and here she is whipping out stories about Dying and Gods and the Force insists it's the truth and he just???? And apparently emo darksider over there is a Sith. And just, sure. Why not

A lot of people’s interactions with the time travelling disaster lineage is just

Tholme and Fett arguing and  Ahsoka's just waiting for a moment to pop in with "Hey, when's the last time either of you worked with the other's culture before this mess? Yeah, that's what I thought."

Much like Leia and Ahsoka hurting each other earlier, and Tholme figuring out the de-aging, we ALSO have Fett’s confrontation with Ahsoka being something the characters just did, rather than something I planned.

FTR the only time I managed to trigger myself while writing this fic was the “your behavior isn’t actually acceptable and we’ve all been trying really hard to give you room to recover but you have to at least make an effort to not be a bitch”

Writing about people having PTSD and symptoms of such: Yay! Writing about people having PTSD and engaging in toxic behavior to cope: Shit Ahsoka had... basically my exact reaction. It's "remind yourself that you're in the wrong, that they have a point, and then be overly formal in the apology because fuck if you accidentally make them feel sorry for you when they're the injured party"

Quinlan: Can we be friends? I mean, you're an asshole, but you're really cool. Let's be friends. (He MIGHT be nursing a crush) (Neat mysterious girl who can beat him up.)

Also he realises she's probably nicer when not having a slow-motion breakdown He's like "Huh, you'll probably be less of an asshole once you've gotten therapy."

...also, she pretty and got Nice Biceps

I love writing a good mental breakdown

I was so close to including a "he tried to kill me" just early enough for Jango to wildly misinterpret as her thinking Quinlan tried to kill her. He'd have been very confused, considering Quinlan's the one that called them down in a panic and currently has Ahsoka having her massive breakdown in his lap But

Tia:  I could see Jango interpreting it as idk, Quin resembling someone or for a moment acting like someone who tried to kill her and she had a flashback or something like that

There's absolutely room for a couple reasonable interpretations there And "trapped in a flashback about someone who tried to kill her" is absolutely what's happening! Just. You know. For a different reason. Jango probably wouldn’t assume Quin would hurt her, for one thing he seems to like her, for another even if he did he’s smart enough to pick a way that wouldn’t be so likely to get him caught

I had to step back and actually say “Also I'm just. Wow. I'm really just shoveling QPP Rex&Ahsoka at full speed”

Me, a few weeks ago, joking: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist Me, now, entirely seriously: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist

Me, belatedly: Oh, Ahsoka being joyfully mean to people was a form of mania she was unconsciously using to build a barrier between herself and her impending meltdown

She went from "just died" to "in charge of Rex and Leia" in like. Two minutes.

Confession: I've been delighting in the mental image of this whole Mess leading Jango to try to retake Mandalore, and Ahsoka loans him a saber for a 1v1 to get the darksaber.

“Can’t I just fight him barehanded? That’s how I did it on Galidraan.” "But the drama, Fett!"

Probably Rex has learned how to use a saber as well, because you never know when you have to borrow a weapon

I later changed my mind to Jango asking her to help, rather than her just sneak-teaching him, but it was funny.

Background nonsense to all this is Ahsoka and Rex, despite Rex being as force-sensitive as a lump of coal, having developed a process where she can extend her sensitivity to him mind-to-mind for weird symbiotic battle trance that scares everyone around them. It’s very similar to Battle meditation.

CONTEXT FOR LEIA BEING WORRIED ABOUT THOLME HIDING THINGS: Tholme is hiding the fact that the Council reached out and told him that the people he picked up might be connected to Ben and Luke, who showed up after the Depa thing but a solid week and change before Jango's ship makes it to the Temple. They asked that he not share that information to avoid getting anyone's hopes up in case the two situations aren't related. Ben and Luke haven't shared enough information for anyone to really be sure if the other three are connected Because the info Tholme has isn't quite the info Jango has, etc. And they can't just say Ben is a future Obi-Wan over comms

I just have a lot of feelings about people trying to do something right and just. Nobody's at fault! Not really! It's just complicated!

Tia: I like how when Ahsoka isn’t doing maladaptive trauma response stuff she’s very mature. And of course she’s had to be but it’s a good like, contrast. Where when she slows down to think about things she’s very sensible

Jango just spends most of this story lowkey wanting Ahsoka to Be His Friend but there's too much baggage that he's only metaphysically responsible for

Local aroace(?) has a squish

Ahsoka: He just wants to get on my good side because of Rex. Jango: I'm pretty sure you could kill an entire army without trying but you wouldn't because you have actual morals and stuff... and when I met you it was because you were killing yourself trying to keep (what appeared to be) children safe... you seem cool please be my friend.......

Ahsoka’s #1 weakness: mountains of trauma Ahsoka’s #2 weakness: she just doesn’t get why so many people think she’s cool and want her to be their (girl)friend

Jango, a 27yo massacre survivor who's killed Jedi masters with his bare hands: [gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly]

Ahsoka was raised in a religious meritocracy but developed all her opinions during a galactic war and then became a vigilante spy, Rex comes from a military cult, Leia is from an inherited monarchy that participates in democracy, Quinlan was originally from what appears to be a dynastic dictatorship, and IDK about Tholme other than that he is also from the religious meritocracy. And in legends Quinlan came to the religious meritocracy after his aunt sacrificed his parents to a vampire cult and then forced him to experience the psychometric echoes of that. There's just. A lot going on.

Leia at least has knowledge about structure and admin in theory that isn't based in either the military or populations under 10k

Jango: I want to be your friend. Ahsoka: Sounds fake.

I am unfairly fond of "Rex destroys a conversation by bringing up his own horrifying childhood and calling it a cult"

"Why does Sokari call you 'Rex'ika'?" "Because she's older than me." "...can I--?" "No."

Nickname privileges are extended ONLY to Ahsoka and older clones. There are no more older clones, so it's just Ahsoka.

Me joking about Star Wars AUs: Would you like a crackship? Me writing actual Star Wars fic: My favorite character type is apparently “too traumatized to have a relationship” so this is at least 90% gen.

I had to pull a scene opening at one point because Ahsoka's skill with not getting shot is actually much less useful than Tholme's clearance levels.

Now I really want a team-up of Ahsoka, Rex, and Jango where they do have to get in a dogfight of the "she flies, we shoot" variety and Fett just has to scream because the speeder thing to catch Maul was one thing, but this....

Ahsoka, before TCW: I know all the traffic rules but I'm not that great at flying! Ahsoka, after TCW: I'm great at flying but if you let me behind the wheel we are absolutely getting arrested.

She went from "knows the rules but doesn't have the skills" to "has the skills but primarily in the form of not getting shot" which! Is delightful! "Bet I can get us through that alley--" "DO NOT"

Jango and Ahsoka are both just very "Is this friendship? Is this camaraderie? My heart's been fried on platonic love by so many murders that I'm not sure anymore." "I've lost a lot of friends. I kind of forgot how to make those."

I have no idea if "hasn't been closer than Alderaan except that one trip to Chandrila" is canon-compliant but ehhhhhhhh It feels plausible enough?

Belatedly realized that I could just explain my optimal Rex&Ahsoka dynamic as just... drift compatible. It's vague enough on the specifics while still digging into the meat of what they mean to each other and how they work together. The terminology is already in existence. I can just use it.

Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Doesn't matter! They're drift compatible.

They are important to each other and that is what matters

I really like the Leia&Quinlan thing. He's just like "This small child needs a friend that isn't super depressed," and decided he's going to be her friend. I keep trying to toss in "Quinlan volunteers to 'baby'sit." She's not much older and she has a Baby Brain, it works out

There's a running bet as to whether Leia will leave the Order the second she turns thirteen, or if she'll let Sokari "train" her for a few years first. And... that’s how I came up with Leia Antilles, Senator of Serenno.

They'll be bullshitting Ben as her new master to "finish out the padawanship" since they can't tell everyone she's really in her thirties and he's conveniently there and already knows everything and was half her master anyway. Like Ben was planning on taking on Luke, but Luke is "six" and even he can't swing that as old enough to be a Padawan, and it's not like Sokari will take more than a handful of years to justify knighthood, sooooooooo

#Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Leia Organa #Jango Fett #Obi Wan Kenobi #time travel #de aging #Phoenix Babbles #Uncle Ben and Little Luke #Auntie Soka and Little Leia #I need to excise the bits that are actually funny on their own

[astradrifting]

 AGOT - Jon I (Chapter 5)

There were times—not many, but a few—when Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard. As he filled his wine cup once more from a passing flagon, it struck him that this might be one of them.

I don’t know why D&D decided Jon could never lie, when literally the first line in his POV is a lie. He’s so good at it he can even lie to himself!

****

A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations.

A singer with a high harp and a ballad seems like a vague Rhaegar allusion. That Jon can’t actually hear him makes me happy in a very petty way.

****

His lord father had come first, escorting the queen. She was as beautiful as men said. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. His father helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but the queen never so much as looked at him. Even at fourteen, Jon could see through her smile.

I think this part is actually Jon being indignant on Ned’s behalf that Cersei was rude to him, by not looking at him when he escorts her, not that she never looked at Jon. Also, there’s those observation skills. He’s never been taken in by a pretty smile.

****

After them came the children. Little Rickon first, managing the long walk with all the dignity a three-year-old could muster. Jon had to urge him on when he stopped to visit.

Adorable!!!

****

Jon noticed the shy looks she gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn’t even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.

Jon’s a mean drunk I guess 💀

****

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon’s vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister’s hair and his mother’s deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell’s Great Hall.

Joffrey according to Jon: 👁👄👁

But Sansa looked radiant 🥰

****

He was more interested in the pair that came behind him: the queen’s brothers, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. The Lion and the Imp; there was no mistaking which was which. Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered “Kingslayer” behind his back. Jon found it hard to look away from him.

This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed.

Giving me big ‘muscled like a maiden’s fantasy’ vibes there, Jon.

Also, curiously enough Jaime’s introduced wearing black and red, Targaryen colours. Maybe a nod to the incest storyline, possibly leftover foreshadowing from when Jaime was going to become king, as per the outline.

Otherwise this means that, like everybody else in this story, Jaime is a secret Targaryen. He and Cersei can join the ranks of Jon, Tyrion, Varys, Mance Rayder and while we’re at it… *spins a wheel of names* Meera too.

****

His brothers and sisters had not been permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet, but there were more curs than Jon could count at this end of the hall, and no one had said a word about his pup. He told himself he was fortunate in that too.

His eyes stung. Jon rubbed at them savagely, cursing the smoke.

Jon spends half this chapter on the verge of tears, my angsty little lad.

****

Jon looked up happily as his uncle Ben put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair much as Jon had ruffled the wolf’s.

They actually call him Ben and ‘uncle Ben’ a few times in the series, which I honestly think might be a Spider-Man allusion. Surrogate father figure Uncle Ben’s early disappearance/death kicking off the plot… There’s also a saying that nobody stays dead in comics except for Uncle Ben - considering all the other resurrections in the books, metaphorical and literal, yet GRRM says that Benjen isn’t Coldhands, it might be the same for this Uncle Ben too.

****

Jon swelled with pride. “Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I’m the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle.”

"[Garlan] is a great knight," Ser Loras replied. "A better sword than me, in truth, though I'm the better lance." (ASOS, Sansa I)

Love a Jon-Garlan parallel! Also thinking about Garlan being the older brother made me realise - in the story everyone thinks that Jon is younger than Robb, but timeline-wise, he has to be older, because Robb was conceived in the two weeks before Ned left to fight at the Trident, and Rhaegar must have at least already been in the capital by then to rally the loyalists, so Jon was conceived weeks, if not months earlier. Which means that Ned has definitely lied about when Jon’s birthday is.

Jon being the product of a ‘youthful indiscretion’ before he was married is less of a stain on Ned’s honour than him betraying his marriage bed but I imagine Catelyn’s fears about Jon usurping her children might have had more basis if he was known to be the eldest, so maybe that’s why Ned lied about how old he is.

****

“Daeron Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,” Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes. 

"A conquest that lasted a summer," his uncle pointed out. "Your Boy King lost ten thousand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isn't a game." He took another sip of wine. "Also," he said, wiping his mouth, "Daeron Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part?"

Jon is unfortunately, a jock. And a bit of an idiot. 

There’s something about Jon’s hero dying at 18, Waymar dying at 18 just a few chapters ago... Jon has them all beat by dying at 17.

****

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."

"I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly.

"You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son."

Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!"

Benjen Stark stood up. “More’s the pity.”

Establishing Benjen as a somewhat contentious father figure to Jon - even more fuel for my brand new Uncle Ben ‘theory’.

****

The wolf pup padded closer and nuzzled at Jon's face, but he kept a wary eye on Tyrion Lannister, and when the dwarf reached out to pet him, he drew back and bared his fangs in a silent snarl. 

"Shy, isn't he?" Lannister observed.

"Sit, Ghost," Jon commanded. "That's it. Keep still." He looked up at the dwarf. "You can touch him now. He won't move until I tell him to. I've been training him."

Possibly he and Sansa are the only ones who properly trained their direwolves, considering how the rest of them will end up behaving.

****

“If I wasn’t here, he’d tear out your throat,” Jon said. It wasn’t actually true yet, but it would be.

Pffffft! Edgy edgy edge-lord 💀

Though I also always feel like issuing casual threats to Tyrion Lannister so I can’t really blame him.

****

Standing, he was taller than the dwarf. It made him feel strange.

He’s got a weird preoccupation with comparing his height to Lannister men in this chapter. My headcanon for the books is that Jon’s quite tall by ADWD but evidently he’s tiny in AGOT if he feels strange being tall next to a dwarf.

****

final thoughts:

Believe it or not, I didn’t actually have Jonsa in mind with my new Uncle Ben theory, but I did just remember that brown haired Peter Parker’s main love interest is red-haired MJ :P

#astra re-reads #agot re-read #jon chapters