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#maybs i'm like this because when i thought of new vegas i always thought that house was the ideal ending
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Go To Vegas, Say Our Vows (Shy Series) -LN
You guys have been requesting a cute wedding planning part for the shy series, but after the most likely to video from the F1 video, I decided to throw you guys a MAJOR plot twist and since it's finally Las Vegas race week (not even sure it's a good thing), we're going to use it for this. You guys might not like me for this one, I don't know but I wanted something to refresh this series bc while I love writing requests for it, I also love just using my own ideas bc after all that's where this all started.
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Maybe Lando should've seen it coming that the whole suggestion of a short engagement would stress y/n out. Lando's personality with fame, he wants a big wedding. But he also wants y/n to have the wedding of her dreams.
The problem with that isn't that y/n doesn't want a big wedding, it's that the amount of new people she's meeting and they don't understand her shyness. They don't understand when she says she wants something but then reconsiders how much attention is going to be on her and changes her mind.
Unintentionally, Lando has left most of the wedding planning to her because he is focused on work and then when he isn't working he just wants to spend time with her relaxing and she respects that so doesn't push it onto him. Plus she might be somewhat lying when she says she's got it handled..
So when Lando steps out into the hotel suite from the bathroom, having a shower to be fresh for taking his first steps in the Vegas paddock, and sees y/n quietly ending a phone with tears in her eyes and scribbling something in her notebook that's been half-filled with wedding notes and ideas already.
She hasn't heard him walk in thanks to the music Lando's been playing to get ready to and apparently is to lost in her thoughts that she doesn't spot him out the corner of her eye. Not that it matters since she takes a stuttered breath in and raises her hands over her eyes, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes and rubbing harshly at them.
It's only when Lando stops the music and is close enough to pick her up and put her on the table, pulling her forward to wrap her legs around his waist, letting her face dig into his chest.
"What's going on baby? What can I do to help?" Lando asks softly as he kisses the top of her head and strokes a hand through her hair. "Tell me what I can do baby, I can't fix it until I know what's going through your head."
"The wedding." Y/n sniffles making him frown in confusion. "I-I just...the wedding planner is always suggesting things and I'm trying to say no when I don't like them but she said that she's running out of things I do like and at this rate-"
"Well she's being fired first of all. I'll handle that before we leave." Lando frowns with a scoff of outrage at the thought of anyone daring to talk down to his fiancé. "How can I help with the wedding planner? I haven't been helping enough tell me what I can do to help more."
"I don't know, every time I try to choose something it always feel like too much for getting married...I want something that is something you would choose. I don't even care about the wedding anymore. I just want to marry you." Y/n states sounding stuffy from crying but she has just planted a seed in her fiancé's mind and he's got an idea he can't shake the thought of.
"Ok, you just don't worry about anything. I'm going to arrange a couple things and figure this out ok?" Lando promises making her look up and he winces realising the physical effect this has had on her. The physical effect he's been too busy prepping for a new track to notice. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry for leaving it all on you. I'm sorry."
Several kisses seem to finally calm her down enough for Lando to guide her for a shower , mainly so he has a chance to make sthe beginning of some arrangements and recruit the help he's going to need to make it all happen in such a short amount of time.
-
"Are you sure about this mate?" Max questions being in Vegas to support his friend for what is already set to be a record breaking race for the lowest temperature.
"P is taking care of y/n, right?" Lando states not even acknowledging his friend's question.
"Yeah. Yeah, they're checking out the casino." Max nods while Lando sucks in a breath. "I can't believe you're getting married in Vegas."
"We're still going to have a wedding at a later date, but I can't help her plan for something so soon and I want to marry her before Christmas. So...we'll have a wedding later but for now...I just want to marry her." Lando states earning a laugh.
"I know you do. I think the whole world got that from you talking about the engagement." Max laughs shaking his head while y/n is being prepared for a surprise that P is slightly stressed about being trusted with.
"I don't understand, why do I have to be blindfolded to get dressed?"
"Lando wants to surprise you after having been an idiot and thinking that you should be left to plan a whole wedding without his help." Pietra states making y/n hum as she pulls on the dress that Pietra handed to her and helps her into. "Trust me, you're going to feel better after this.
"Ok..." Y/n murmurs before she sighs softly and shifts around. "It's not a grand gesture is it?"
"No." Pietra answers almost too quickly. "I promise, it's just for the two of you really."
Y/n nods letting out a nervous heavy breath which unknowingly makes Pietra worry a little that Lando is making a big mistake with his decision.
-
Lando didn't want to get married in Vegas playing entirely into the cliche. So instead he managed to arrange to have someone officiate the union out on a balcony over looking Sin city.
"How you feeling?" Max asks as they wait for y/n and Pietra.
"Good. This is the right thing to do. I know it is." Lando assures him while Max nods and smiles. "What?"
"Just...you're getting married man." Max sighs making Lando grin at him. "Never thought I'd see the day, I was so certain y/n would see sense before now."
"Twat."
Lando has made sure there's two photographers to capture this moment from as many angles without it feeling too intruded on.
Only a minute later, Pietra appears guiding a blindfolded y/n through the door. And Lando feels his heart stop, the sight of y/n in a sleek white dress. Simple and poised, the exact dress she had circled with a "1" in her wedding notes book. Lando had someone find it and made sure there was one that would fit y/n for the private ceremony.
"Ok, are you ready?" Pietra asks getting a thumbs up from Max and turning moving behind y/n to undo the blindfold.
"I guess." Y/n murmurs so quietly only Pietra can even hear her.
When the blindfold falls away, the dark lighting means she doesn't really have ti adjust to seeing but when she sees her fiancé suited and stood in front of a man who looks far too official for this to just be a date.
"I know I'm not your dad, but hopefully I'll substitute." Max states appearing next to her which makes her smile but there's a shine to her eye. "I can also be told that you don't want to do this and we'll stop."
"No. Sudden and leaving me unprepared seems to be his style." Y/n whispers making Max chuckle flicking his gaze to Lando and giving a single nod that it's going ahead.
Max walks y/n towards Lando, not necessarily down the aisle since there really isn't one but eventually she's out on the cool balcony and it's not long before her hands are linked to Lando's.
"Don't worry, we're still having a wedding but this way we're married and the wedding can come later." Lando whispers earning a small nod before he looks at the man stood next to them. "We're ready."
It's not before long that the two have exchanged the basic vows with the addition that the wedding would have better vows in store. Then Lando pulls out the simple gold band that fits perfect with y/n's engagement ring and slides it on her find then she returned the favour as she puts a slightly thicker but same styled ring on his finger.
"You may now kiss the bride."
In a dramatic movie-like move, he pulls he against himself before dipping her and catching her in a case that thankfully doesn't go wrong.
Pietra and Max applaud, cheering and laughing as y/n is placed back upright on her feet. Face hot while Lando grins then cupping her face and kissing her again.
"You are officially mind for good." Lando states making her laugh.
"Good. the rest of the drivers will never forgive you for this one."
"Most of them will be at the wedding, I'm sure they're get over it." Lando shrugs then kissing her again. "Are you ok? Feeling ok? You're surprisingly hot for someone who is stood out in the freezing cold."
"Yeah, just...a bit flushed." She nods then clearly her throat. "What now?"
"Well it's media the day after tomorrow so tonight, we celebrate." Lando smiles brightly. "Don't worry, you're going to be glued to my side and we can leave whenever you want."
Shy tag list: @celestialams @oosnapitskat @rivivie @leclercvsx @somethings-going-on-here @peqch-pie @toasttt11 @architect-2015
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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year
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Pink Scarf - PART 16 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)
Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)
Requested: kinda
(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)
Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]
TW: Rough SEXXX. Restraints. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  
Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 7.2k
A/N: Woo, boy, y'all. Get yourselves ready, cuz the snowball is rollin' and the shit storm is comin'. This part is a little bit of everything--a little sweet, a little salty, a little smutty. It's what y'all deserve!
For the flashback, I had E's 1960 It Feels So Right playing in my head on repeat, so if you are one who likes music to set the mood, then you might give it a listen before/during/after you read that part!
As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋
If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!
I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 
Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 
(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)
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Graceland, Christmas 1960
The mansion is finally quiet, or at least you’ve managed to find a quiet part of it in the midst of all the holiday revelry. Elvis loves Christmas, and this is his first one home in two years. And the first one without Gladys.
You had thought that maybe his grief would make the holiday a more solemn affair, but he’s gone in the opposite direction. It’s as though his loss has fueled him to make Christmas as joyful as humanly possible. Even though he’s been away filming for most of the month, he still directed the mansion should be decked out in all the Christmas finery for his return. And so it is.
You wish you were more in the spirit to enjoy it. Usually, you would be—Christmas is one of your favorite times of the year—but this year it sits heavy for you. Heavy because if all had gone well, you’d be sharing it with your newborn baby.
The thought brings you to tears again.
You’ve been hiding your grief as much as possible, sliding on a quaint smile, singing carols, and making cookies with the rest of them, but in these solitary moments, you grieve. You cannot help it. You know it’s futile and silly. How can you grieve someone who barely even existed, someone who was never born? And yet, here you are, alone, sitting in a quiet corner of the house at the piano, a couple of glasses too many of champagne in, being sad over what could have been.
So you begin to play. You know practically every carol and hymn by heart, so you just close your eyes and let the music take you away. It doesn’t erase your grief, but it does help you let it out in some way. You barely notice the tears rolling down your cheeks as you play Away In A Manger and What Child Is This?. You let the dramatic chords of O Holy Night linger in the air at the push of the pedals.
And after a bit of playing, that image of a baby in your arms feels fuzzy and faraway. Or maybe that’s the champagne. Maybe it’s both.
The air shifts. You notice it but play on anyway. You’re not sure how, but you are able to sense him, his presence, his essence, as it pushes in around you. But he remains quiet, and your eyes remain closed as your hands continue to fly over the keys.
Elvis does not interrupt, he only watches. You’re not sure why. You feel as though he barely speaks to you anymore. Yes, he is away and busy and all the usual excuses. But he used to seek you out when he returned. He’d bring you silly little trinkets and sing to you and tell you stupid, off-color jokes.
Now, since that horrible day in March, it’s as though an invisible wall has come between you two, and you don’t understand why. It’s nothing overt—he treats you kindly in the group and doesn’t outwardly ignore you. But something significant has changed, you swear it. Perhaps it is your ultimate failure as a woman that has turned him away. Or maybe with the explosion of his stardom since returning from Germany, he just doesn’t have time for you anymore. Maybe it has nothing to do with you at all; maybe he’s just a different man now.
Your tears of grief now include the loss of him, too. Losing your friend is heartbreaking in its own right, much less coupled with the loss of your child, of your fertility. It doesn’t help that Jack has been gone with Elvis on his travels and feels distant, too. You’d initially thought the space would be good for you two, but instead you just feel achingly lonely.
God, you wish you’d never been pregnant at all, as all it seemed to bring you is heartache.
You stop playing and open your eyes. The room is dim, lit only by one of the many Christmas trees in the house, but when you turn towards the door, Elvis is still there, his blue eyes shining with emotion as he leans in the doorway. The man looks ready to weep, which takes you by surprise, as he’s only shown enthusiasm and excitement since being home. You recognize the look though: it’s grief and melancholy, similar to your own.
Then Elvis looks at you unabashedly for a moment, almost like he is really, truly seeing you for the first time in months. The air sits heavy and silent. You don’t bother wiping the tears off your cheeks, though your heart races a bit. Must be the champagne, you think. It certainly isn’t the way he is looking at you now, how you are being laid bare and vulnerable by his intense gaze.
Something builds between you, though you are not exactly sure what, and he suddenly straightens and crosses the room to you. He towers over you now at the end of the piano bench and an overwhelming need to be near him comes over you. It’s as though you are both magnetized to each other, so when he holds out his hand, you cannot help but take it. The warmth of his hand surrounds yours as he pulls you up and into his waiting arms.
You fold into him, your arms tucked into your chest and your head buried into his collarbone as he wraps his arms around you. His spicy, distinct scent surrounds you and his warmth engulfs you and you cannot help the sob that escapes you at the comfort of it.
Elvis holds you close and lets you cry, and you feel his chest shudder and his breath hitch as though he is as emotional as you are. His mother, you think; he’s been hiding his grief as you’ve been hiding yours. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your temple as they run down his face and onto yours, and this prompts you to unfold your arms and wrap them around his torso, comforting him as he is comforting you.
He sways you, moving to the unheard music you assume is always playing in his mind, and pressed against him like this, you can feel the quick and steady beat of his heart pounding in his chest. You don’t remember the last time you were this close to him. He feels bigger, broader than the boy who went to Germany, but is no less Elvis. His sensitive spirit is the same after all.
You are not sure how long you sway there, crying in each other’s arms at your respective losses. But you know it’s more than just that. You know because as your tears start to ebb and you move back the slightest bit, he grabs your hand and pulls you in close, unwilling to part with you. He dances with you now, slowly pulling you back into his silent rhythm.
And you let him. You let his hand clasp yours and he draws it over his heart, holding it there. His heart beats quicker, you think. It’s too intimate now, the way his warm, damp cheek presses to yours, the saltiness of your tears mixing and binding your grief together. The air shifts again, still heavy and thick, but with a million unsaid words hanging there in the silence.
Your heart skips, flutters, and your breath catches. You’re not exactly sure what is happening. But you still let him hold you and sway you in slow circles. His hand splays hot on your lower back, burning through you, setting your body aflame in a way you don’t understand.
But you are a few glasses in and on a roller coaster of emotion and right now the feel of his strong, lean body pressed against yours makes you feel alive in a certain kind of way. You’ve been lonely and you’ve missed him more than you thought. It’s almost as if this is a silent plea for forgiveness from him.
Yes, that’s all it is.
You feel hyperaware of him and his closeness, so when Elvis nuzzles his head against the side of yours, you feel breathless. Your mouth pops open with a puff which, considering his proximity, he must feel, but he does not stop, and you cannot help the way you return the gesture in kind.
His breath is warm in your ear, and you can feel the softness of his lips brush against it, sending a decidedly inappropriate cascade of shivers dancing through you.
Oh, god.
Involuntarily, your hand contracts in his, your nails scraping lightly at his button-down shirt. Elvis presses your palm down onto his heart in response. You feel out of control, completely at his mercy, knowing this is too much, too close, too intimate but you can’t seem to stop, intoxicated by his strength, his affection, his essence.
Elvis’ still-damp cheek lingers against your own, and he presses his forehead gently to yours with a soft sigh. Then he pulls back slowly, just far enough to look at you, and you feel knocked over by his pure beauty. Honestly, you feel absolutely heady as you threaten to tip over and lose yourself in those churning, deep blue eyes of his. And, boy, they are churning, with things you can’t quite grasp. You watch as they search your face, his impossibly long lashes punctuating their every slow move. Holding your breath, your heart speeds up ever faster, and you wonder what it is he seeks in you.  
Your sadness and grief feel far away now as he plunders your soul, his gaze so alluring that you cannot even begin to piece through what is going on in any sort of logical way. You don’t understand any of it. All you know is you want more, and that feels forbidden in every way.
As if reading your thoughts somehow, his lips part. His eyes flutter down your face and land at your mouth. A shock runs through you as you think Elvis just might kiss you, and that terrifies you, not just because it would be crossing a line but because in this moment you want him to.
You want to feel his lips soft and sweet against you, then crushing into you. You want his body passionately pressed into yours as you cling to each other in the sparkling light of the Christmas tree. You want his large hands roaming your curves. You want to feel the strands of his dark hair between your fingers as you tug him closer. You want him to make you forget everything but the taste and feel of him.
These wants flash through you in an instant, shocking your system because he is so close that you almost can taste him and panic shoots through you. Never have you let your thoughts truly drift to that place with him, and opening that door feels very dangerous. Suddenly, with a wave of absolute certainty, an intuition you cannot explain at all exclaims that Elvis wants you more than anything in this world.
And that makes you gasp and pull away.
That cannot possibly be true. Nothing about the way he’s acted this past year supports that but something inside you screams that it’s real. It makes no sense. None of it makes any sense.
Elvis blinks and shakes his head as though snapping himself out of a daze. His hand falls from your waist, the spell broken. The soulful look in his eyes flashes with what almost seems like hurt, then apology, then regret. Without a single word, he turns and leaves.
Your heart plummets for reasons you don’t understand.
You must be confused. You are drunk. You are emotional. You couldn’t possibly have read the situation correctly. And yet the feelings awakened in your body surprise you and the look in his eyes haunts you as you sink back onto the piano bench, left alone in the silence.
*
Your eyes pop open at the memory. You had been very drunk that night and hadn’t remembered that moment until this very minute, yet another hidden facet of your long and suddenly complex relationship with your friend making itself known. Elvis had continued to keep his distance from you after that Christmas and had never even alluded to such an intimate moment happening, so you’d had no reason to think anything strange had happened at all. In hindsight, it seems awfully significant and feels like yet another thing he’s keeping from you.
Running it through your mind again, you swear he’d almost kissed you that night or at least had wanted to, which is shocking to you because 1960 was a long time ago. Still more shocking was that certainty you’d had about him wanting you more than anything, which couldn’t possibly be true.
Could it?
You shake off the thought. Emotions were high for both of you that night, and he obviously had thought better of it, but still…that prickle at the back of your mind keeps gnawing at you, those pieces of the puzzle attempting to slot into place. Maybe if you weren’t so damn tired and emotionally spent, you’d be able to figure out what your mind is trying to tell you. Maybe if your body wasn’t still aching with the memory of losing your child and almost dying, you’d be able to think clearly.
And your conversation with Sandy also sits uneasily in your mind. Running away ain’t gonna solve anything, her voice echoes in your head. You wish you had the strength she hoped you did, the strength to tell Jack to fuck off, to tell Elvis how you really feel, but it all feels so overwhelmingly insurmountable that you can barely even entertain the thought.
Heart pounding and wheels turning, you know sleep is out of the question and sit up in the bed. You get up and busy yourself instead. You feel as though you are racing the clock. It doesn’t take long to pack your bag, and while you are not frantic, you are determined. Mentally, you are ready to go. You have to go.
Unfortunately, things are not working out as you hoped they would. When the concierge calls you back with your fight arrangements, he informs you that there are no flights out of Vegas until 7:30am tomorrow morning. It being a Sunday night and with such short notice, there were no seats headed back east to be had. You thank him and reply that of course the morning flight would be acceptable before you set the receiver back on the hook and let out an aggravated scream.
You need out now. You are half inclined to rent a car and drive back to Memphis, but you know that is a terrible idea for a variety of reasons, namely being that you had no idea how to get to Memphis from here and being alone on the road for so long with no preparation sounded dangerous.
Fine, you think, I can make it through the night. I should tell Elvis in person anyway.
The thought makes your stomach churn because you know he will not be happy with this development. You’d rather not see the look on his face, but you also know it is the right thing to do. You just need to steel yourself to see your decision through and not be swayed by his charms.
Easier said than done.
And it doesn’t help that you are running on fumes and adrenaline. With everything that happened last night, the only sleep you’ve had was on the roof and that was short-lived and filled with nightmares. You took a shower after getting back to the room, but your mind is spinning too much to sleep, plagued with returning memories and creeping doubt.
You decide to get ready for the show as originally planned. It’ll be easier to gain access to Elvis between shows to talk if you do so. You dress accordingly, carefully putting on your makeup and doing your hair up nicely to give yourself as much confidence as possible. After repacking your toiletries, you grab your clutch and see the silky pink scarf folded neatly inside.
It takes only a moment for you to decide to put it around your neck. It’ll guarantee that Elvis will make time to see you, and you try not to shiver at the fact that the last time you wore this scarf, it led to a decidedly different outcome than it will tonight. The thought sends both warmth to your core and dread into your heart. You don’t want to leave him.
But I have to.
You shift your thoughts instead to Red, wondering and fearing whatever he might have planned. You don’t know if he is planning to sit on the information he gleaned from your leaving Elvis’ suite this morning, or if he is looking to cause mayhem immediately, though considering Jack has not burst in angrily, you don’t think anything has been said yet.
Either way, you have to warn E, and you have to get the hell out before the shit hits the fan.
The afternoon quickly turns to evening, and you pump yourself up on the way downstairs, despite the nausea in your stomach, the exhaustion in your body, and the ache in your heart. Now that you are somewhat a part of the show, it is easy to get backstage, and while you’re not sure how you are going to be able to wait the few hours the show will take, you continually remind yourself that this is what you must do. You have no choice.
But I do, I do have a choice, a pesky little voice chimes in. Stay.
Shut up.
By the time Elvis makes his way backstage, you feel like you’re about to jump out of your skin. The way his bright eyes light up when he sees you and then how they flash heat when he sees the pink silk knotted around your neck fills you with both desire and anxiety. Being near him weakens your resolve because his charismatic energy rolls over you even from this distance, and he just looks so damn good in that white suit of his, but you knew that this would test you. You force what you hope is a normal a smile, but you see a look of confusion flash over his pretty face before his usual pre-show nerves take over. But he does not come over to you, for which you are grateful.
The show begins with the usual fanfare, and you are surprised that even with everything going on in your head (or perhaps because of it), you still get swept up in the music, still sing the parts quietly that you have so diligently practiced. Regret hits you from another angle, one you did not anticipate. In leaving Vegas, you’ll also be leaving this—the show, the music.
Doubt creeps in in earnest throughout the show, putting your nerves even more on edge. You don’t really want to leave this opportunity, but the problem is you don’t think you have the fortitude to stay and to be able to resist Elvis.
The curtain closes and Elvis is surrounded, soaked with sweat, riding that post-show high that makes him nearly glow from the inside out. He wipes his face with the towel someone has draped over him, and you watch as he pulls Jerry aside with a glint in his eye, presumably to arrange your meet with him. But Jerry leans back and whispers something into E’s ear and that handsome face clouds with dark emotion. Then Elvis finds you past the crowd and his eyes lock on and you know. You know he knows by the hurt and angry look in his piercing blue eyes.
Sandy.
Goddammit.
As Elvis stalks over to you, pushing through musicians and instruments, it’s evident that Sandy has betrayed you. She told Jerry. And whether she meant for him to tell Elvis, you do not know, but your heart speeds up as Elvis crosses the backstage area in long, quick strides, with a wounded and feral look in his eyes that frightens you. It is not at all the same as the jealousy from the night prior; no, this is damage done on another scale.
You cannot help but back up as he approaches, nearly falling back over your chair, but he is on you in an instant, grabbing your arm firmly with one hand and your waist with the other, seemingly uncaring of the confused looks of his entourage that has been left behind so uncharacteristically. Luckily, Jack is nowhere to been seen, but you catch Red’s smirk before Elvis manhandles you into the hallway.
He doesn’t speak, not yet, though you see his brewing temper play over his face. Your heart drops because it is so obvious how you’ve truly hurt him, and he practically carries you back to the dressing room so quickly that you barely have time to register what that means. Once inside, he releases you and you tumble forward before he slams the door with too much force and flicks the lock.
As you straighten, you attempt to brace yourself for what you think you know is coming. Your nerves are on pins and needles, and you can’t help the lightheaded feeling that comes over you as you watch him fume. His chest heaves with both the exertion from his performance and his building fury, which makes for a dangerous combination.
You realize too late that perhaps you didn’t think this through.
“Is it true?” Elvis growls, rounding on you. “Are you trying to leave?” The pain is palpable in his stormy eyes and is layered with indignation.
The words catch in your throat. You finally force yourself to nod, attempting to find your voice in the meantime.
“What the fuck, y/n? What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” his voice raises, as he paces the room like a caged animal. His eyes are icy now, glaring at you in such a way that you feel it to your toes. His white suit clings to him with the moisture of his sweat, which gleams off his tan skin, distracting you.
You finally find your voice. “I’m leaving, Elvis. For my sake and for yours,” you breathe out. Your heart threatens to shatter at the words.
“The fuck you are,” he flips back at you.
“Excuse me?” you huff.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, honey,” he points at you sternly.
“That’s not up to you,” you sputter, blinking rapidly.
“The hell it ain’t,” he glares.
Elvis’ eyes flash and he advances towards you. Your heart thunders in your ears and you counter backwards until he has your back against the wall. He grabs your chin with his hand, his rings cutting into you.
“I thought I fucked some sense into you last night, but it seems I fucked it out of you instead,” he purrs dark and low, but it is laced with threat.
You hold back a groan at his words. The sound of his voice and the look on his gorgeous face as he rakes his eyes over you sends both dread and heat through you all at once. You should have known he’d put up a fight. This is why you’d wanted to leave right away. Resisting him feels insane and futile.  
“E, Red knows. He caught me coming out of your room this morning, and I just know he’s gonna make trouble,” you ramble out, trying to skirt around him. He boxes you in with his arms.
“Fuck Red. I’ll take care of him,” Elvis spits, eyes flashing but barely giving it a second thought because his sole focus is you. Then you see him eyeing his scarf around your neck. Wordlessly, slowly, he unties it, his calloused fingers brushing the skin of your neck and making you shiver. “Now tell me why you’re really leavin’, honey,” he commands, but the lilt in pitch betrays his sensitivity to those who know him well enough. And you do.
Oh, god, the way his smokey eyes bore into you, intoxicate you, has you frozen and your mouth dry. All the words you prepared to say are gone in an instant. You can’t tell him everything (you can’t), but his hurt and his need to dominate you because of it drives his actions, and you know he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.
“Hmm,” he shakes his head, a darkness overcoming him. “Guess I gotta find another way to get it out of you. Give me your hands,” he orders. You are caught in his gaze and feel powerless to deny him. Begrudgingly, you obey, holding out your hands.
You watch as he ties one end of the silky scarf to your left wrist. It’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Your brow furrows in confusion as he pulls your arms up, and it is then that you notice the bar, which must be used as a clothing rack, attached to the wall above your head.
Your eyes widen and your heart thunders in your chest. “Elvis, what’re you doing?” you squeak out as he wraps the scarf over the bar and attaches it tightly to your other wrist. Your arms are loose and your feet remain planted on the floor, as the bar is not that high up, but you are effectively trapped.
“Well, honey, you keep tryin’ to run away from me and I need answers,” he glowers, amusement playing under his anger.
“Goddammit, this isn’t funny, let me go!” you say shrilly, yanking your arms but only succeeding in making the scarf tighter around your wrists.
“No, you’re right, it ain’t funny at all. Were you just gonna steal away in the dead of night without talkin’ to me?” he asks, the hurt back in his voice.
“No, I…no, that’s not what I wanted…” But it is almost what you did, and he seems to know it.
His eyes flash with realization at your unspoken words, then narrow as he moves closer. You look away, shamed. He grabs your chin again, his rings cold against your skin, and forces you to look at him.
“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.” He says it like a pleading promise and a stark demand all at once.
Oh, Jesus, it makes you ache for him in every way. You can feel your resolve crumbling around you, all your reasons for leaving melting into a puddle at your feet.
“We can’t Elvis. We can’t keep doing this. I’m losing my mind,” you say but Elvis has his head buried in your neck now, his lips and tongue dragging across your skin and setting your entire body aflame. Resisting him is like resisting gravity—an impossible feat.
“Why would you do this to me, lil’ mama?” he whispers in your ear, his hand brushing away your hair so his breath tickles against you. The sensation immediately has your body at attention, like a switch has been flipped. Your nerves tingle, your nipples stand at attention with just the temptation of that raspy baritone.
Despite yourself, despite the angel on your shoulder screaming at you, once again, that this is a bad idea, your mouth pops open with a sigh. His other hand cups your cheek as his lips travel over your face, so close that those long, dark lashes brush against you in their wake. This sends another thrill of sensation through you.
It’s agonizing that you can’t touch him, which you know is exactly the point.
Elvis presses you against the wall, and his thumb is dragging slowly over your bottom lip. It takes everything you have to not disintegrate right there and then. The way he makes you feel—it’s like you have no sense of reality when around him like this. He is your drug of choice. And you keep coming back to him again and again.
“Tell me why you don’t want me,” he asks in a boyish whisper, his bedroom eyes deadly serious, filled with anger and hurt and need and lust. All for you. Only Elvis could look so entirely innocent and completely sinful all at once.
His words cut you, as you think he intended. You wish you could make him understand, but your breathing is fast, too fast. You are dizzy from the scent of him, all sweat and musk. He’s dripping with it. Your eyes roll back.
“Dammit, E, of course I want you,” you breathe, “but when we get caught, which we are seconds away from, I’m the one who’s life blows up. I’m the one who’ll have to face the consequences. It all comes back on me, and…I don’t have anything without Jack.” You can’t let yourself forget it.
The way Elvis looks at you now is fierce. He grabs both of your cheeks roughly, his hands like fire against them.
“Baby, you have me, you’ll always have me. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll take care of you, no matter what happens.”
The sentiment hits you sideways, flooring you. He’s staring at you so intensely you feel completely gone, weak. There is nothing else but him.
“Let me take care of you,” he breathes seductively, nuzzling your nose. “Let me be your everything.”
Oh, sweet lord…
“Elvis…” His name escapes you like a hushed prayer. You are defenseless against him, your heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, stealing your breath away completely.
The temptation of what he is saying is so strong that you want to give in to him immediately. It’s almost everything you want to hear, which is the problem. You think he’ll say anything to get what he wants. You love him, but you know he’s a master at manipulation—it’s how he’s so damn good at his craft. It’s how he so effectively hypnotizes the masses. You think half the time he doesn’t even realize what’s he’s doing, but knowing him as you do, you know he is too shrewd for ignorance.
But part of you refuses to believe him, what he’s saying, even now. Part of you is still reeling from the pain and the fear of your recently uncovered memories. And the fact is, he is still hiding things from you, and you are still married to Jack.
Elvis bows his head, his soft lips now mere millimeters from yours, his hot breath mingling with the heat of your own. But he does not close the gap. He’s waiting, waiting for you to decide. He’s impatient, nearly shaking with anticipation.
You came here to end it, you did (didn’t I?), but he’s like the sun, pulling you into his orbit. Desperate, you find your voice, doing your best to be strong.
“Elvis, I am still married. You know as well as I do how complicated it is with Jack, and he’s not going to take kindly to this when he finds out. And he will. We both know he will. He’s your friend. You can’t have it both ways, and neither can I. But I can’t be near you without wanting you, so something’s gotta give. That’s why I have to go. That, and all the secrets, the lies…It’s tearing me apart inside,” you plead with him. And I know you’re keeping something from me, but those words don’t make it out of your mouth.
His brow furrows and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head. Then something significant shifts, that dark look clouding his eyes once more.
“Jack ain’t shit. Fuck him. And, baby, I’ll tear your marriage to shreds and throw it in the trash, just like that,” Elvis snarls, snapping his fingers in your face, his endless eyes burning into yours. His vehemence has you shaking, your eyes going big. “I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to pay off. I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”
Holy shit.
A shocked beat, your breath held in a pause before it quickens again. Elvis is choosing you over Jack. Elvis wants you to end your marriage for him (or more accurately, wants to end it for you). This means that he is much more serious about this, about you, than you thought. Your heart plummets into your stomach and warmth blossoms over your body. You are both elated and terrified by what he is asking of you. All words escape you.
“Still need a little more convincing, huh?” His lip curls into a smirk, sending a coil of desire into your belly. Pushing you up against the wall, he grinds his hips into you, your arms straining against their bonds. You know now that this is his way, his way of proving to you the truth of his words. A whimper escapes your lips, causing him to grin even more. He has you right where he wants you, which is infuriating and exhilarating.
Elvis gets close, his full lips so tantalizingly near that you can almost taste their pillowy sweetness, but he still does not kiss you, only tempts you as his breath blends with yours. As much as you want to, you do not submit, you do not close the gap, your stubbornness and lingering doubt dampening your near-consuming desire.
All your churning emotions of the past few days keep you silent. Confusion, fear, anger, shock, love—all of it only fuels your passion for him, a love so consuming it eats you alive. But you also don’t want him to have the satisfaction of you giving into him. He’s right: he does usually get what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you have to make it easy on him.
Elvis watches your reaction carefully as he yanks your dress up over your hips. Then he groans, a deep, carnal sound as he grinds into you once more, his arousal evident and the metal of his ornate belt biting against your pelvis. You bite your lip to keep from making the noises that threaten to escape you, but your breathing is starting to become even more labored. There is an element of calculated control in his flaming eyes, combined with power and need. He doesn’t let you look away.
Elvis grabs the back of one of your thighs, pulling it up to his hip, running his hand over your bare flesh from your knee up to your panties, his fingers dancing just under the elastic. You hold back the hiss that wants to escape you. God, you want to touch him, to claw at his bare chest, but the scarf holds you fast and you grip its strong silk for dear life.
When he lets go just long enough to pull the zipper of his fly, pulling out his cock, your eyes widen, then fall closed. You feel as he tugs your underwear to the side, his fingers swiping through your folds. You bite your lip at the feel of his fingers prodding at you so roughly. But with your churning emotions desperately trying to keep your desire at bay, you are not nearly wet enough to take him yet.
“Look at me,” he demands, and you do. You are powerless not to.
Reaching his hand up, he looks you right in the eye as he spits in it, then reaches down to cover his cock, lubricating it fully. You gulp. A shiver of anticipation races down your spine. Taking a long moment to gather more saliva, he spits in his hand again before snaking it between your thighs to smear your pussy with it, watching your reaction carefully. You can’t help but moan at the sensation of the warm slick.
True to his word, nothing stops him from taking what he wants as he brusquely lifts your legs around his waist and enters you with a quick, hard thrust and a deep grunt.
You gasp loudly at how Elvis fills you so completely, both with surprise and with pain of the pleasurable sort. You are so tight, too tight, and while your arousal pools, it has not yet coated your walls, making his saliva the only lubrication to ease the friction. You claw at the silk scarf, trying to push back against the wall in retreat, but he chases you, pausing for only a moment as you attempt to adjust to him. He starts rocking into you, but his thrusts are not gentle—they are powerful, claiming. You continue to hold back the noises that want to escape your mouth, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pleasure.
“Why ya gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn, baby? You really makin’ me take you this damn hard to remind ya just who ya belong to?” he growls seductively into your ear as he drives into you harder. Your head falls back onto the wall and your eyes flutter. This shouldn’t be so satisfying, but you can’t deny how it makes you feel, how he makes you feel. Your arousal pools around him at his words, at his audacity, and it gives you away as he slides more easily in and out of you. Then that damn lip of his dares to curl up again into a knowing smile.
His baritone rumbles in your ear as he fucks you more vigorously, each thrust punctuating his words, as if driving them deeply into your body and mind. “I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight after this little stunt of yours, honey, not for one damn minute. In fact,” he chuckles darkly, “you’re going on stage with me for the rest of my shows, starting tonight. Your debut performance.”
You can’t hold back your choked gasp at that.
“You’re all mine now.” Elvis’ hand comes up and wraps around your throat, just tight enough to let you know he means it. “Now, be a good girl and say it for me.”
Your brain fights against him—possession is not love! Sex is not love! it screams at you—and you don’t want to give him this, but you know the truth of it: you are his. You’ve been his for a while now. And you relish in it. You want so desperately for it to be more than that, but you are too weary of denying yourself of the obvious.
“I’m…y-yours,” you gasp out. He fucks it out of you.
The corner of his mouth briefly lifts in satisfaction before returning to his relentless railing of you and his ongoing, heated diatribe: “You’ll stay in my room, my bed, and we’ll fuck whenever we damn please, honey. I don’t care who fuckin’ knows. Let Jack try and come for you…see what happens,” he threatens, grunting as his thrusts become more erratic.
You don’t even recognize the moan that comes from you at that. The fact that he will take Jack head on for you sends an inexplicable rush through your system. The coil in your belly tightens rapidly now, but Elvis is too far ahead of you, too consumed with his lust and his need to claim you as his own.
“Tell me you’ll stay,” he says in your ear. It comes out more needy, breathless, pleading, than you think he intended, which tugs at your heart, telling you what you need to know, at least for now.
You have no choice, not anymore. Neither your heart nor Elvis’ will allow it.
“I’ll stay,” you whisper, finally conceding.
“There’s my girl,” he groans, then plunges in so deep and fast that the wind is knocked out of you. You both cry out as he pulses again and again, filling and coating you with his need, his teeth digging into your shoulder as he climaxes.
You both gasp for breath, him from his release, you from the shock of his words as they settle within you. After a moment of recovery, he unceremoniously pulls out of you, sets you gently back on the ground, and unties your hands. Your legs feel wobbly and your hands tingle with a burning sensation, rubbed a little raw at the wrists. Elvis kisses each wrist softly, making that unrelieved coil in your belly cinch even tighter as he wraps the scarf around your neck. You wince at the pins and needles in your arms as you shake them to regain circulation.
You wait to see what he has in store for you next, but he just looks a little jaded, uncharacteristically making no effort to alleviate your need. He turns and walks all the way back into the bathroom, and you follow silently.
You look at him questioningly in the mirror as he cleans off, that coil in your belly poised and ready, but unfed. He’s never left you unsatisfied before. But you also don’t want to push him right now. Things still feel too tenuous.
He finally acknowledges you in the mirror, looking over your mussed and flustered state and immediately gleaning the reason for your hovering. “Honey…I’ll deal with you later,” Elvis tuts in a reprimanding tone, his left eyebrow raising, his blues still chilly towards you.
He’s being petty, but you suppose you deserve that to an extent. You resist the urge to pout, instead choosing to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing against the sweaty heat of his back. You want him to forgive you, want to be in his warmth, want him to love you as you love him. But for now, you’ll accept the relief of not having to leave him.
Let me take care of you…Let me be your everything.
The memory of his words sends warmth radiating through your chest, even if he just said it to get you to stay. Even if he didn’t really mean it.
“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. And you are.
Elvis doesn’t move for a moment, just letting you cling to him. Then he turns, bringing you close, and he finally kisses you, his pliant lips pressing hard and fierce and wanting against yours.
“Don’t ever try to leave me like that again, baby,” he says, pulling away, looking deeply into your eyes. He is trying, you think, to be as possessive and demanding as before, but the edge of his anger has been tempered, quelled, and has turned into something more imploring. Then, with that quintessentially Elvispuppy-dog look on his face, he blinks slowly and quietly adds, “I need you,” as though just realizing it himself.
And, with that, you realize for the first time that despite all your doubts, despite what he is hiding from you, despite every obstacle that wants to pile against you, the shitstorm that is coming is still going to hit hard, but it will hit you two together.
*
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canirove · 6 months
Text
Broken Hearts Football Club | Chapter 1
Summary: June Maxwell, football star. Ben Chilwell, ex football player and tv pundit. Life had broken her heart (figuratively) and his (quite literally). But when they were together, their pieces became whole.
Author's note: Finally found the inspiration to write another story with Ben! I was expecting to start posting it while surronded but lots of new content, but his hamstring had other plans 😔 So I hope that at least it helps you miss him a bit less. It is another enemies to lovers story (kind of), I am sucker for those 😅 The character of Vittoria, one of June friends and teammates, is completely made up, but all the other players mentioned are based in real people. Hope you like it, and thank you for reading! 💜
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"I can't believe we are starting another season already. It feels like yesterday when we were playing our last game!"
"This summer has completely flown by. What do you think, June?"
"Uh?" she said.
"You weren't listening to us, were you?" Vittoria laughed.
"She probably was busy texting her hot dj" Lauren smirked. "Where is he now? Ibiza? Las Vegas?"
"He actually is in London."
"What?" both Lauren and Vittoria said at the same time.
"He's visiting his family and wanted to meet, but since we are playing in Liverpool and he is leaving tomorrow…" June shrugged. 
"That's what happens when you date someone famous" Lauren laughed.
"We are not… Son of a bitch!"
"Hey, I'm trying to nap!" one of their teammates complained from the other side of the plane.
"Sorry!" June said. "But I can't believe what I just read."
"What did the dj do?"
"Him? Nothing. It's Mr. Chilwell. He says I don't deserve to be one of the captains!"
"Oh my God, June. Why do you keep paying attention to him?" Vittoria said, rolling her eyes.
"Because I can't understand why he is so obsessed with me."
"I've always thought he is in love with you."
"What?" June laughed.
"I think he is in love with you but has to be mean on camera because if he praises you, people will notice and he will never see the end of it" Lauren explained.
"Ben Chilwell in love with me? Please."
"Think about it. It makes sense" she shrugged.
"No, it doesn't."
"It does for me" Lauren shrugged again. "And you would make such a cute couple... Even your last names rhyme. Maxwell and Chilwell" Lauren smiled.
"You've gone mad."
"Oh, c'mon. I haven't forgotten about the huge crush you had on him when we all were at the academy."
"Every girl had a crush on him, to be honest" Vittoria pointed out.
Benjamin Chilwell, Ben, Chilly. He had been one of Chelsea's most promising players, making it to the first team when he was 18 and becoming one of the captains at 21. But everything ended when he was just 23 and diagnosed with a heart problem. Playing football on a professional level was over for him, but he discovered he could still be part of that world as a pundit. He knew the sport, how to speak, and had the looks to be on tv because he happened to be stupidly handsome. He had been the crush of so many over the years for a reason. 
"Yes, everyone was in love with him. You included. And now you are two hot and successful adults obsessed with the other" Lauren said.
"I'm not obsessed with him. He is with me" June protested.
"Ok, fine. Maybe he is more obsessed with you. But his reviews are the first you always check and the ones that matter the most to you. There must be a reason behind that."
"That I don't get it! Have I done something to him?"
"Being talented, beautiful and simply amazing, which makes it easy to fall in love with you."
"He… urgh. This is the most pointless conversation ever." 
"If you say so…" 
"It is. Ben isn't in love with me, and I'm not in love with him, Lauren" June insisted.
"Then what is it, uh?"
"Maybe he's jealous because you have everything he wanted" Vittoria said.
Like him, June had grown up in Chelsea's academy, and even though she was a couple of years younger, their careers had followed a similar path. She made it to the first team at a very young age, being called by the national team not long after. She had become the star of both teams, winning individual awards right and left, the most important brands being interested in signing her as an ambassador. She was a star. And this season, she would be Chelsea's first captain, which to her was one of the biggest honours.
"See? That makes more sense" June said. "But still…"
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"Ok, girls. Let's do this!" June cheered up her teammates before going into the pitch to do their warm-up. As she stepped out, she couldn't help but look to her left, to where the tv set was. To where he was. "Ok, focus" she said to herself. She was there to play football, to win. Not to think about a certain pundit.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"There goes June Maxwell. If she scores this penalty, it'll be a hat-trick for Chelsea's captain. She gets ready… and goal! What an extraordinary penalty by Maxwell." 
"No goalkeeper could have stopped that" Jacob said.
"If the goalkeeper had been better positioned, it would have not been that easy."
"Oh, Chilly" Andrew laughed. "New season but you haven't changed a bit."
"Pretty sure that her 1, 2, 3 and that smile at the camera was directed towards you" Jacob chuckled.
"What she should do is care about playing football, not what I say" Ben replied, his eyes focused on the replay of her celebration and the big smile on her face.
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"Lauren, what the fuck?" June said while reading the things her teammates had written on the ball from the game.
"What?" she shrugged.
"May this be the first hat-trick of many this season. Suck it, Chilwell."
"C'mon, June. You were thinking about him when you did the penalty celebration."
"I wasn't."
"You were. It was a beautiful fuck you."
"It… urgh."
"If it bothers you it's because you know it is true!" Lauren laughed.
And she wasn't wrong. June always gave everything on the pitch and tried to play her best, but she had been extra motivated that day. She wanted to show Chilwell how wrong he was about her, that she deserved to be Chelsea's captain, to lead the team. When the ball had gone in after that penalty, her first thought had been for him. And she had the feeling it would not be the last time that season…
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onboardsorasora · 4 months
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Omg need more of Girl Daniel. I was cursing George so hard for interrupting 😂
Omg Bestie..... I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting!!!!!! I had written something immediately after you sent this, but I didn't know where to go with it so I tabled it. I think I found a direction! I hope this is ok 🫣🫣
Continuation of this Girl!Dan ficlet 🥴
Max blinked back his shock, and his awe. He couldn't believe his eyes, Daniel looked… amazing.
Well, he'd always thought she looked amazing, beautiful and lovely. But this was a new look, she was… sexy. Of course, they've been friends for years now so he's seen her on vacation and in her race suit, he’s seen her in many different circumstances. So truly, this wasn't the first time he was seeing her bare back.
But… there was something about her tonight, under the lights of Christian's party in Vegas. 
He had been confused at Christian's tone when he'd asked if he had spoken with Daniel. He hadn't, but he knew she was here because she had texted that she was on her way. But he hadn't seen her because he hadn't known what he was looking for. 
He'd thought maybe she would be in a suit again, like she had joked with Geri. Or maybe a cocktail dress– she'd worn those before. But this outfit hadn't been anywhere near his thoughts.
He glared internally at George, Max had been leading them to the empty terrace. His hand twitched on her back before settling on the bare skin again. He looked away from George and his unnecessary yammering to look at Daniel again. He didn't want to stop looking at her– he never did.
He caught Christian’s eyes and narrowed his own at his boss who was giving him a thumbs up. Very inappropriate, but also Max appreciated it. Christian knew. 
He knew about Max’s, well this was maybe more than a crush at this point. Max was in love with Daniel, maybe. He hadn’t analyzed the feeling recently but he knew he had surpassed ‘crush’ territory. It had to have happened this year when Daniel became their reserve. Max had been able to ignore it and avoid looking too deeply into his feelings when they were on different teams, no longer in each other’s pockets. But since the car launch, they had slipped into their familiar close banter and camaraderie that had people unearthing that annoying nickname they used to call them back in the day. 
Daniel loved it, she always laughed when she saw it on posts. A full head thrown back, joyous sound. Max would just stare at the full column of her long neck. 
Max hated it, if only because it wasn’t true. They weren’t Maxiel, because that implied them being together. They weren’t and Max didn’t want to add to his delusions of it happening. So the name rankled him, like when you pet a cat’s fur in the wrong direction.
Speaking of cats, Jimmy and Sassy loved Daniel. They always came out of hiding whenever she came over. And they always gave her more attention and kneaded more biscuits for her.
“–Maxy, where did you wanna go again?” Daniel’s voice jolted him back into awareness, he looked into her smiling face and had the sudden urge to smear the sparkly lip gloss off of her lips. Preferably with his own lips. He wanted to know what it tasted like, if the gloss would be like lube for their kiss.
“We could go to the terrace?” Max offered, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. He was a three time world champion, his body shouldn’t be betraying him in this way!
“Sounds great Maxy Max.” Daniel tilted her head and Max felt warmed by her glow and her full attention on him. He was jealous when other people interacted with her, he always wanted her beautiful eyes on him– her intent listening expression. She gave everyone who she spoke with her full attention and Max tried to have that be him as often as he could.
They continued their walk across the party and they were able to avoid anyone else’s attention. The terrace was empty. The bar on the far end was still being set up– as if they hadn’t considered taking the party out of the event space. Daniel leaned against the railing, her elbows keeping her upright and allowing her to not press her back against the frigid metal. Because it was cold at night in the desert, not many people realized this. 
The lit fire pits were doing the lord's work to keep her from breaking out into goosebumps, but Daniel could feel her nipples pebbling under the pasties. Could feel the metal of her top teasing her skin. Max stood facing her, his hand now against her hip. Daniel swallowed thickly as she tried to ignore the way his thumb was swiping at the skin above her pants. The fact that he didn’t seem to realize he was doing it was messing with her molecules more than his touch was.
They chatted about nonsense for a while, Max’s palm felt branded into another part of her skin at this point. She couldn’t help but want. Want him to touch more of her. They were friends, yes. But she often wished they were more. She was happy being friends with Max though, and was ok with the fact that that seemed to be all he wanted from her as well. 
Normally she wouldn’t push, wouldn’t fiddle with the bars of her enclosure. But tonight, she felt sexy and she had his complete attention and she wanted.
Daniel leaned into his space with the original intent to pass on some potentially juicy gossip she saw brewing in the throng of the party, but her cheek brushed against Max’s and she felt the scratch of his beard and well, here came the goosebumps after all.
“Max.” Daniel breathed, it could be classified as a whine, but she wasn’t going to look too deeply into it. She would be embarrassed at making such a noise in front of Max. He smelt so good, she wanted to just press her face into his neck. She imagined him pulling her body against him, his hand gripping her hip tighter.
“Daniel, you look amazing.” Max said quickly, as if he was trying to prevent someone from interrupting them again.
“I– Yeah?” Daniel drew back and bit her lip, this time ignoring the lip gloss. To hell with it. “Thank you Max.” She could feel her skin heat up, darkening the cosmetic blush brushed into her cheeks. His hand against her hip clenched a little and she had to stop her eyes from rolling into the back of her head. 
Max groaned internally, this was torture of the highest order. Daniel was right here with him; he had her to himself and he wanted to keep it that way. He was a three time world champion. He could get what he wanted, and he wanted Daniel. She was completely attuned to him, drawn tight like a bowstring. He wanted to see what she looked like when he made her come apart and lose her tension.
“Come back to mine later? After?” Max spoke into the air between their faces, her lips were so close that he could taste her lip gloss if he wanted to.
“Yeah, ok.” Daniel whispered, eyes searching his. She nodded as if to confirm her consent, her want.
“Good. we can leave after they cut the cake.” Max’s face took on a focused quality, one Daniel only saw when he was considering taking someone home. She felt butterflies erupt in her stomach, she felt even more sexy. Wanted. 
She didn’t know how long it would be until they cut the cake but she could manage, as long as Max kept touching her and looking at her like this. She would get what she wanted later, and Daniel being Daniel– she couldn’t help but tease Max a little.
“Gonna ruin me Maxy?” She breathed and looked up at him through her eyelashes, angling her face in the way that all her previous partners found sexy.
“Absolutely.”
She couldn’t hide the hitch in her breath even if she wanted to.
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disasterbuckdiaz · 10 months
Text
Wip Wednesday
I on "I'm going to sit and normally write this this fic and not just little parts" stage with Vegas (going to write tomorrow, friday and on weekends). For now I don't have good things to share, but I still want to, so here a drama from werewolf a/b/o au (first snippet)
“So, Marisol. You gonna call her?” Buck tries to ask it with a purely friendly interest. 
“I don’t know. Maybe,” if Eddie could Buck sure he would shrug his shoulders. “I think yes, I will, but not today or the next day. I’m sure I can`t be a pleasant company when I`m in pain, right?” Eddie teasingly smiles at him.
“You’re always a pleasant company, Eds,” Buck says quietly, but he thinks Eddie still heard it. Because his face is now puzzled, like he tries to understand what is inside Buck’s brain.
They silent again, but Buck feels how Eddie stares at him with his big brown eyes and he breaks. 
“Was poker a date? Did - did you try to court me?” Buck prefers to look at his hands and not at Eddie. 
“Yes,” Buck quickly turns to Eddie. “Why are you surprised? Like you didn’t know.” Eddie looks at Buck with a raised eyebrow.
“Because I didn’t,” Buck screams. He can’t believe he actually missed it. And he can`t believe Eddie hadn’t said anything. Just stopped his attempt. Well, it’s not a surprise. Eddie must have seen how bad Buck was and understood he needed someone better. 
“How could you not know?” Eddie screams too.
“You never said it was a date. And you always buy me something. Also, if you remember, I’m omega only for 3 months. I was dealing with my death, the grief of everyone, and new instincts. My body was new. Everything around me was different now. Imagine how overwhelmed I was. Natalia helped me a lot. It’s nice to have an omega friend who understands a lot of what I was going through for the first time. Heat, instincts that scream to take care of my alpha. The desire to entangle Chris in a bubble wrap more than usual. The desire to growl at you for dating other people. Feeling that I was rejected. Not just a desire, but the need to bake the best cookies for Chris’s school. I literally began to experience all my emotions and feelings towards you many times more. And I started feeling a lot of new things. Yes, I didn’t realize that you were trying to court me, but Eddie, I never thought that I would become a werewolf. I accepted I would be just a friend when I was a human, because you said more than once that it was a bad idea to have a bond between a werewolf and a human. And then... you-you didn’t seem interested in me when I was in heat, so I realized that being human wasn’t the only obstacle. I thought you just didn’t want me.”
“Buck, you were recovering after your coma, and in an unexpected first heat in your 30s. I would hate myself if I tried to do something that moment.”
Tagging (no pressure) : @usercowboy @jobairdxx @rose-buddie @911onabc @heartbeatdiaz @ebdaydreamer @alyxmastershipper @elvensorceress @buck-coded @honestlydarkprincess @buddierights @the-likesofus @rogerzsteven @shortsighted-owl @scarcrossedbuck @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @gentoodiaz @comaboybuck @bekkachaos
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majaloveschris · 8 months
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I just can't imagine how he would be able to be okay with everything they've done and said, the way they behave, and how they troll the fandom. /
Apologies for the rant but I have so much thoughts on this. I was actually pro Chris/Alba at the beginning. I knew her from Warrior Nun and liked her in it. When i heard gossip about them (way before it was announced) i was happy because 1)familiar face 2) up and coming actress so good chance she'll post with him to raise her profile with American audiences which probably means annoying PR but at least from that we'll get more Chris content.
But she just had to be a racist who associates with nazis, posts nudes online and her hanger on friends are trolling the fandom and the worst part is CHRIS IS NO WHERE TO BE FOUND. We can't even get a glimpse of him in the background of their videos trying to bait the fans.
This relationship is making the public sour on him and it feels like i'm going insane because i genuinely just cannot imagine what he benefit he see's in it? He went from Americans boyfriend to Uncle Chreeps with the nazi GF overnight. He went from beloved celeb who talks about being romantic and wanting to settle down to "celebs with the biggest age gaps" articles. He's gone from one of the most recognised kid friendly superhero's in the world to the guy who's girlfriend posts videos of herself stripping in the shower with no warning.
And anytime i try to talk about it, I'm hit with "ur just jealous, he's never gonna date you" even though i have always liked Chris' GFs and have never hated any wife/gf of any man i stanned.
To be honest with you, at first, I also felt that way. I didn't know who Alba was before the whole Las Vegas thing, but despite that, I didn't find anything problematic or dislikeable about her. But the more time passed, the more we learned about her and the people with whom she hangs out, and the more I started disliking her and her friends. The last straw was obviously the whole racist, Nazi-supporting thing.
I still don't think they knew about the tweets and their past behavior, and I think they represented themselves differently at the very beginning.
I think we can't even imagine why this whole thing could be beneficial for him. Seb's PR relationship has also helped him out; maybe they thought the same thing would happen in Chris's case too. Maybe he doesn't want to be the internet boyfriend anymore, which I would understand why he wouldn't want to be anymore. Obviously, this representation is even worse than that, but maybe it will open new doors for him. I'm pretty sure they knew what they wanted to achieve with this. However, I think the reception was entirely different from what they expected. Maybe they even would've wanted to end this whole thing, but there are two people and two teams in this whole thing, and even if they represented this idea, I doubt Alba and her team wanted to end this whole thing. Don't even mention that everything that has happened in this whole thing is really out of character for him.
Maybe we will be able to witness everything he will gain from this. I'm most definitely interested in how everything will work out in the end.
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jinx-on-mars-19xx · 18 hours
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I remember him talking about the Las Vegas trip on the Youtube show hot ones I believe. The first time when he was there. I will look it up. He said they went from Club to Club and even young Kells thought he couldn't compete with this style of partying. He said that Diddy never got tired and that he was so tired. They got stuck in an elevator, too, I believe and they had to climb out. I had to think about the one scene in one Kellyvision I believe when Diddy visited him at Ashleighs house. Kells was asleep on a mattress in the basement and just woke up when Diddy made a surprise visit. Last year he went with MF to a party in his LA mansion. The mansion you can see now all over the news. I wonder if he had to go. But I just wanna believe he left with MF early. I just can't imagine them being involved in possible criminal behavior at a Diddy party. He goes to Jay Z and Beyonce as well whenever they are throwing a party. I have to say I don't like that. And I would be interested in your thoughts and from everybody who has a thought about the illuminati theme. I will never get over his post on IG when he wrote in the caption ILLUMINATI. I don't care what anybody says but he looked terrible that time around. So thin and I wanna say depressed. It was after the engagement as well. Don't come at me but the pics from DG in Italy and all the pap pics. Nobody who just got engaged looks like that. And his Illuminati pics....as well. It's not longer on his IG, but I hope some of you remember this. So my question is did he bluntly say that he is in the Illuminati? What MF said in her last interview was ridiculous. She lied openly about her plastic surgeries ( watch Lorry Hill) and said that Kylie Jenner was so open about her plastic surgery. LMAO... Not even mentioning the other bullshit and lies that are coming without hestitation out of her mouth.
I found two interviews, including the Hot Ones you mentioned. Roxy suggested I probably watched a few and got them all mixed up in my mind which was probably right. I definitely don't think he's doing anything illegal with Diddy, I think if anything he was one of the people Diddy tried for, like Bieber.
Took him to Vegas when he was young and poor.
Made him party all night past when he was exhausted.
Bought 30 bottles per club to show off and took him to all these places even though he was under age.
Every time he talks about Diddy there always seems to be this fear of him. So if he's done anything I don't think he had a choice. I just hope now he can get free of him and Megan honestly.
I don't know much about the Illuminati stuff, I vaguely remember the post you're talking about but I think if anything that was probably something Megan asked of him. I wouldn't be surprised if she was desperate to be part of it (if it exists) but as much as I love him I don't think he's famous enough for it yet. I'm sure she dragged him to any parties she could to get higher on the fame chain. I can see her trying to be besties with Beyonce or whomever would get her more fans.
I think he's been doing bad for a long ass time and he needs help. I think she was a clout chaser and got him incredibly messed up because he was desperate for a relationship to work and for someone to love him. I just want to see him healthy. But if he was one of those Diddy went after I'm not surprised he's had issues for a long time. Who knows what's gone on behind the scenes? But he may feel he had to stay because he was so put down in the business that maybe no one else would sign him.
I'd never come for you omg, you know I love you 🖤
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themonotonysyndrome · 2 months
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Sorry for the length of this, but you got me thinking! I feel like I should have started keeping an eye out on Erik not planning a lot of major plot points when he introduced Xavier right before the games, gave us no time to get to know him, then killed him and had characters (even Freelancer) react in a way like they were bffs with him like what in the Star Trek redshirt was that? But Inversion was so good otherwise to me that I ignored that.
I feel like I really should have taken more notice when Milo recovered from his Inversion injury after two videos (but Erik had personal reasons for that so I went sure). Then, after all this lore talk of how much bloodlust new vampires have and how much they struggle, we didn't see any of that with Lovely, but we were still not to far off from Inversion so I ignored it again lol.
There's some personal preference stuff where I get confused at his lack of consistent framing when it comes to consent where Alexis is the bitch and is more or less a villain (with little nuance so far in canon) for ignoring Sam's consent. But Cutie (with how Erik says they and Geordi aren't broken up) is framed as being able to work towards forgiveness despite years of ignoring Geordi's consent even after he cried about it to them.
I'm on the fence about his 'I intended Imperium season 2 to be the end' because I don't think it's the worst place to stop, but I do think that there's some more story to tell and if the views were a lot better then he probably wouldn't have stopped (only guessing here)?
I think what made me finally stop and wonder 'does he plan?' was how Quinn's capture (after all that build up) happened off-screen and only had Darlin' punch him while he was tied up. I thought the Summit was fine in a very Clue way, but watching the Vega video today had me go '...oh okay' which I don't mind deaths, but that shouldn't be a reaction to that lol.
I feel like I want to give one more of his big plotlines a chance and hope he's planned that one, but idk. The guy capable of making Inversion has to be able to do something even sort of to that level again hopefully??
Don't apologise, Anon! I love reading your thoughts.
Xavier was the beginning. Yes, I was also emotionally devastated; it added stakes to the Inversion, but a part of me always wondered if killing off a character was the only way Erik could add impact to the Inversion? Because no matter how good the angst is, if you introduce a character, make them have ties with one of the main cast and later kill them just to add depth to the main cast, it feels very cheap.
Maybe this is me being salty, but making Milo unable to Shift for at least a few more videos before his Core is healed enough would've been better. The anxiety of not knowing if he became truly magicless and the trauma that would bring would be a better alternative to Xavier's death. I feel like Erik is so damn afraid to do anything bad to his cash cows nowadays. That aftermath from the Summit? The talk that David had with Angel or whatever? That was honest to go foreplay. Yes, the Shaw Pack was affected by William's plan; they saw a murder happening right in front of them, boo hoo... boo hoo. The Summit is absolutely nothing when compared to the Inversion, where hello? Actual and thousands of deaths occurred!?
That thing with Lovely, and how well and quickly did they transition into the Vampiric lifestyle? Lame. Boring. Where's the struggle? Oh right, the fandom scared Erik badly enough to scrap Bright Eyes.
Also, I get that Erik's movie is Clue, and he was trying to do the same for the Summit, but it just turned into, 'Great idea, bad execution' kind of video. Meh.
That Alexis and Cutie parallels... I never noticed that before, Anon! Huh! You have a good eye when it comes to details. Listen, I love Alexis. I love Cutie. I love deeply flawed characters, and I also love deeply flawed characters that either own up to it or revel in their shittiness. I just want Cutie and Geordi to break up already so Cutie can find someone on their level, and Geordi can find someone with enough patience to deal with him and his baggage. Though both of them need to work on their own stuff first, tbh. Cutie is not blameless, and neither is Geordi.
Will we get an Imperium Season 2, though, Anon? I already don't have faith in Erik's story writing so I'm not looking forward to he'll fucked up another series.
Ah! So Quinn's Ending was your tipping point, Anon. I hate Sam and Darling but even I believe they deserve better. Though I giggled when Darling beat up a tied-up Quinn as a way to get their revenge. Oooo, so badass! What a strong Listener! You feel empowered at that moment, Anon? I feel like I was ridiculed after everything, IMO.
Vega's death was a slap in the face to me because of the utter disrespect. You built this character up to be ancient, manipulative, powerful, only for him to moan and die? Wow! I wondered if he actually hated Vega! This might be a gambit, and Vega might be faking his death, or this is some part of his plan, but I don't care anymore. At least give him a proper end, ya know? Again, same with Quinn's situation. I FEEL RIDICULOUS FOR EVER INVESTED IN THE SERIES.
I'm not morbidly curious to see how he's gonna fuck up Project Meridian. I don't doubt that Erik can create a new series that starts off fantastically, only for it to end like a wet fart. Let's hope Inversion isn't his one-hit-wonder, eh?
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suga4mycoffee · 2 years
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The moments of realisation that hit you when re-watching this show are brutal.
Like the moment where Vegas speaks about taking care of the hedgehogs, and all of them dying.
The moment where he speaks about the last one, and how "He still left me, too."
How "I didn't even get to name him.", because if he didn't name him, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much when he died.
How everything he's ever tried to take care of, except Macau, has died. And that he must be terrified that something will happen to Macau, too.
When he says "Everything that I love has left me.", and you realise he's just waiting for that to happen to everyone in his life that he even remotely cares about.
How you realise that, maybe, this is why Vegas tried so hard to treat Pete like a pet at first.
Maybe, this is why he kept calling Pete a pet. "You are such a good pet of the main family."
Perhaps, it's why he tried to make Pete eat from a pet bowl.
Because if Pete was 'just' a pet, like the hedgehogs he's cared for, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if he died.
But when he sees that Pete might actually die, he panics.
He crumbles, because he's scared he'll lose Pete, just as easily as those hedgehogs.
When he calls Pete's name, no longer calling him a pet of any kind, shaking his arm, tapping his face. Because Pete is so much more than a pet.
How Vegas dresses Pete's wounds, gives him medicine, speaks to him softly.
How he makes him hot food, in a proper bowl with proper utensils, and even eats some of it himself, to not only prove that it isn't poisoned, but to show that it's a bowl he's willing to eat from. That it isn't something he'd give to a pet.
How he's completely fine with Pete having a book to read, until Pete says something that makes him lash out.
How he gave Pete a chance to escape, to leave him, instead of dying under his hands, like all his hedgehogs. Like the one he holds in his hands when he leaves him the key.
The way he sits like his strings have been cut, mourning the last hedgehog, and knows that Pete will be gone by the time he's brushed himself off and gone back inside.
Because "Everything that I love has left me."
Except Pete.
Because Pete doesn't, no, can't leave Vegas while he's suffering.
He was given the perfect opportunity to leave, to go back to the main family, to escape Vegas.
And instead of grasping that opportunity with both hands, he stays. He sees Vegas, alone and in mourning, and decides that he can't leave him.
He gives Vegas an ear, lends his metaphorical shoulder to cry on, because he wants to help ease his suffering.
He sits with Vegas as he gives the hedgehog a little funeral, handing him flowers to lay atop the grave. (If I'm not mistaken, the flowers are plumeria flowers, which have various meanings, one of them being new beginnings.)
When Vegas stands and walks away, Pete follows.
Pete says he doesn't know why he didn't run away, but I don't believe that. I don't think Vegas really believes that, either.
And Vegas opens up to Pete. He tells him about the hedgehogs, about his battle to care for them and keep them alive, and how he failed. How they died over, and over, and over. How he doesn't have any left. How he didn't name the last one, because maybe it would hurt less when that one died too.
He tells Pete how he's always measured against the main family, against Kinn, and found lacking. How, no matter what he does, his efforts will never be noticed, never be given the same weight.
Pete tries to comfort him, tries to stop him from hurting himself.
We're then gifted with an absolute masterpiece of a sex scene, which I'm far from qualified to properly gush about. Plenty of other people have written amazing things about it, so I'll leave it to them.
But after? When Vegas is left staring at Pete, who smiles, giddy and satisfied?
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Vegas is coming to the realisation that he's completely and utterly fucked.
Because Vegas thought he could keep enough distance between them that Pete's inevitable escape wouldn't hurt, that if Pete happened to die it wouldn't be a big deal.
But it was never going to work. Pete already got under his skin long before that, Vegas already cared too much, there was no way he could have made it easier on himself.
Vegas realises, right here in this moment, that when Pete inevitably leaves him, it's going to hurt so much more than he ever imagined. That if Pete dies, it's going to utterly destroy him.
And you realise it, too.
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barb-l · 4 months
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A, R, U?
(🫶🏽 thank you for your support)
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Oh man. I dont wanna sound like I'm tooting my own horn, but I genuinely find it hard to choose because I love my fics dearly. I enjoy writing so much, almost as much as I do drawing.
In no particular order, one of them is my Power Rangers 2017 fic Code Yellow. Idk if I've told her this(probably not cuz i dont much like to talk about my feelings) but the premise of Kimberly and the rest of the OG's being much older than the next rangers, with Kimberly serving as the next Yellow Ranger's mentor was inspired by my friendship with another PR fic writer(if you know unicorn affair then you know she's a legend). We became friends when I was like 17 and still relatively new to accepting my queerness, so getting to be friends with an older sapphic woman who was very kind, into the same things I was, and was in a loving relationship with another woman? It was very comforting and filled me with hope. Kimberly and Aisha's dynamic aren't the same as my dynamic with that person, but I can say that I projected a lot of my feelings over the warm comfort of having a friend that was like an older sister to Aisha.
I haven't made myself finish it yet, but I have hope I will even now years later. This is a snippet from my drafts
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Another one is "Courtship Woes", the second part of a fic series for probably the craziest ship I've ever shipped, Wednesday Addams and Lydia Deetz from the musical version of Beetlejuice. It's a very different Wednesday from what a lot of you are probably used to in my Wenclair fics tho, as it's characterized as a mixture of Ms Ricci's version in the 90's movie and the animated version voiced by Chloe Grace Moretz. While I like to think of Jenna's Wednesday to be more like Morticia, I wrote this Wednesday to be a lot more like Gomez. So I guess I already have written a Gomezified Wednesday. Huh.
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And, predictably, the other one is "raven in the den, wolf in the nest". I'm still really proud of what I've accomplished for this fic. The final chapter was especially very healing to write with Wednesday's confession affecting Enid's confrontation with Esther in the climax of the fic. The whole point of the Addams Family isn't the gothicness necessarily, but that they were supposed to be the topsy-turvy of what is conventional. It was one of the main points of that fic, with Morticia fainting over the thought of her wonderful spawn dating an adorable rainbow being the topsy-turvy version of the disapproving parent trope. That confession was supposed to go along with that theme too. In typical stories that involve monsters, the crux of that romance is the person's love of the other person despite them being a beast. But Wednesday isn't a typical girl. Loving a murderous beast would be what's expected of a grim girl like Wednesday, but the best thing about Wenclair is how they still keep the topsy-turvy theme for Addamses. Enid is insecure about not being the ferocious monster she's supposed to be, yet despite all odds Wednesday loves her regardless. She grew so dang attached to her even before Enid got the chance to shift and that's both so unexpected but makes so much sense of Wednesday Addams.
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Fredrik Backman is my absolute favorite writer. The way he writes grief and loneliness alongside humor and love in his works is just phenomenal. It just saddens me that I do not understand a lick of Swedish and can only rely on the english translated copies, so I can't say that I fully know how he writes his prose as translations can only go so far. But I can say that the emotions he evokes in his writings is what I always try to strive for. To make my readers tear up as much as I could make them laugh. Or maybe more of the latter. Like a warm hug.
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(also wow that's very wenclai--)
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I apologize for cheating and choosing my OC's, but I think I'd want to actually write a fic with Vega and Sora someday.
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radiant-reid · 2 years
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would love to know what kind of life you think spencer would have if he wasn't in the BAU (like in an alternate universe)! e.g. his career, friends, family life, etc (love ur posts btw heheh)
oo this is such tough one and i know he talked about having some random imagined future as a farmer in the show ?? but that's not here
career: the easy answer is engineering but engineering dudes and the new finance bros, ew. I can't imagine an alternate universe where he's not rich, but i don't think he would have gotten rich from tech. i can't see him as an entrepreneur either but maybe he would have started a business ?? also, teaching, i think he's too smart to be a professor all his life. and we'll hope he never finds a cure for something because he might ✨ disappear ✨ the things i can see him doing;
-medicine, because he loves helping people out -law, probably starting with criminal defense because i don't think he could be part of an unfair prosecution team but then if he ever had to defend someone he thought was guilty, i think he'd switch to medical malpractice suits, environmental, and immigration. i don't think he'd be able to do it for too long so i think he'd eventually become a judge because he's quite smart - maybe controversial but politics (hey, president Reid) because he's smart and honest so he'd be better than 98% of politicians out there. - once he has money, i definitely think he would have founded a charity
location: i just cannot see him living on the west coast. and i know he's from las vegas, but i can't see him living somewhere hot either, idk he screams snow at winter to me. dc or boston make sense to, maybe nyc or chicago for a little bit when he's in his 20s. when he has kids and gets married, i think somewhere outside of a city, hopefully Potomac MD since i'm convinced it's the nicest place in the country. wherever he lives, he has a very nice house worth at least a few million as well as other property like an apartment somewhere he goes for work and a lake house
family life: i think about this a lot. he'd definitely be married and have 3 or 4 kids, but i'm not sure the order of gender. GG twins, B, G could be a winner or G, BG twins, G. whatever it is, more girls than boys (if not all girls) and i'd really love to see him with twins. i also think they'd be pretty close in age and he would have taken some time away from work when they were little. private school (international if they'd like), a nanny who can speak another language to them so they're bi-if not multi-lingual, international travel, ivy colleges, trust funds. lots of luxury but he's very careful to teach them their privalage
wealth not a private jet (he's environmentally conscious) but first class always. he invests in lots of start-ups, particularly medical ones, and stocks, and founded a charity. he doesn't flaunt his wealth but i think he has lots of designer clothing, and because he's so wealthy he mostly buys from eco-friendly shops for things like socks when he could get cheaper ones from Walmart. loves to spoil people, his wife has a very pricey engagement, nice jewelry, birkins, nice cars, the kids get everything on their birthday/Christmas lists, their house has elegant art and furniture
friends a lot, some from work but probably more from outside of work. especially once he comes out of his shell as an adult and because i think his wife would be an extrovert who quickly discovered her dorky boyfriend could charm people and contribute in just about any conversation
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Text
Sick Adele x fem! reader
Name: "my little love"
Warning: fluff
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You were awaken by the sound of loud groaning, that seamed to be coming from the gym. You looked over at the clock and saw that it was only 4:45 am. You looked over at the other side of the bed to see that it was empty.
Sighing you got up and threw on your robe. Wipping sleep out of your eyes You made your way downstairs to the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine. You then proceeded the the gym. Pushing the door open you saw adele sitting on the treadmill looking rather "sick".
She hated when you used that word. But really she was sick, it was the truth. You walked over and sat besides her, placing your hand on her thigh. " adele baby your sick, can't you see that?" You asked rubbing her back as you tried to get her to follow your breathing steps.
Even though she was wearing clothes you could feel that she had a really bad fever. Her back was really hot, and it's surely not from working out.
"No I'm not darling" she said angry before trying to get up. You could tell that she was dizzy. From the way she held her forehead and walked like a zombie to the way she pitched her nose . She walked out of the gym and into the kitchen, with you quickly following behind.
You notice that she was walking towards the front door. " where are you going my love" you asked pulling her arm, for her to face you "for a run" she replied kissing your cheek. You held her hip firmly to halt her movements completely. "Adele stop, you seriously look like your going to fall falt on your face" you said tucking a strand of loose hair behind her hair.
She sighed heavily. "I don't want to work so hard anymore, I feel restless plus i have that tour in vegas next week" she whispered as she melted into a hug you gaved her. "Let me take care of you delly" you said. She nodded then you walked her back to the bedroom.
You went to the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the bathhtub. You gaved Her back massage and you also washed har hair. You loved seeing the more relaxed side of her, not the side that's always working and constantly worrying.
You finished bathing her and you noticed the way she was shaking as she step out of the bathtub. the cold air was cruel to her skin. You quickly ran to the towel panel and got her a new towel. She smiled as you handed it to her. You gaved her a soft kiss on her forehead before walking her out of the bathroom.
After getting her dressed you gently laid her on the bed. Adele was always the dominant one in the relationship, always the one to take care of you. Now it was your time to return the favor.
You turned on her favorite British cooking show and turned to leave. She gently grabbed your arm with enough force to make you sit. "Thank you baby" she whispered well it was very low. You could have swore you heard her voice break.
Seeing her in this state completely shattered your heart. You caressed her cheek before planting a soft kiss one her lips. You got up and went to prepare something for her to eat.
~▪︎~☆~▪︎~☆~▪︎~☆~▪︎~☆~▪︎
After you gaved her a cold Towel for her forehead because of that fever, you gaved her some hot soup. After, you realized that the soup probably made her fever worse so you made her some cold ice tea to cool her down.You laid in bed with her as you watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful.
You wondered how you got so lucky with her.
You were going to make sure that you spend all your time with adele because she has tour in Las Vegas and you won't be accompanying her because you to have work. Being an actress and adele being an singer you 2 never spend lots of time together.
Everytime you saw eachother you had to say goodbye again. And it broke your heart as much as it broke hers. Maybe if you had paid or spend more time with her you would have saw that she was coming down with a really bad cold, you thought.
You were lost deep in your thoughts that you didn't even realize that adele was awake and looking at you. Your eyes met her gaze as she gaved you the cutest pout and the most purest green eyes. You couldn't stop a smile from forming on your lips.
"I hope your not worrying to much about me" she said turning to face you better. You chuckled as you did the same. " I'm your wife I have to worry. " you replied playing in the bits of hair that the pillow wasn't sucking in.
" yeah but not to much ok? I'm fine-" you cut her off "no your not" you said as your voice broke showing that you wanted to cry. She immediately wrapped her arms around you, bringing you closer to her body. You placed your head into her neck.
" I'll be ok. Because I have you. The most beautiful angel I've ever met. Never forget that darling" she whispered gently digging her nails into your scalp, releasing all your built up stress and worry. You loved adele and she loved you more.
`°`°`°`°`°`°`°`°`°`°`°`°`°
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Liked by y/n, lizzo and 5,405,946 others
Caption: GUESS THATS A RAP FOR REHEARSALS!! WHOS READY FOR VEGAS NEXT WEEK!! BTW WOULDNT HAVE GOTTEN THIS FAR WITHOUT MY WONDERFUL WIFE @officaly/n.
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899880hello" been a fan of you since 2015!!"
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Adelefanpage21 " I'm your biggest fan!!"
Hopelopy" fan since hello❤️‍🩹🥺"
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aggravateddurian · 5 months
Text
Swooped by a Bird: Part 1
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Vega adjusted the jacket. It was always a little big, designed for a guy about a foot taller, and much broader than herself. She was still getting used to the effects of last night's events.
Right on cue, Johnny manifested once again, stroking his chin, a characteristic smug grin on his face. She'd seen it before, being worn on her face, "Vega, what're we doin' today? Rescue a netrunner from a pre-war Miliitech bunker? Perhaps launch a two-man attack on a corpo transport? Or..."
Johnny recognised the new influence... most importantly, the change in Vega's eyes.
"Oh, fuck..."
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Vega's accent had changed entirely, the Midwest Nomad accent, merged with Night City street kid. No mistaking it, the voice that came out of the woman was V's, "Johnny..."
"V...?"
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"No, Johnny, not V... but I'm startin' to notice a trend," she reached for her hand, rubbing the spot on her finger where a ring would go, "every time I want to reclaim more of V's life... you're there to stop me. Kind of like... you're trying to keep her from having as much influence in my life than you... two years, one consciousness merge, and still the same Johnny Silverhand..."
"Fuckin' shit, V! At what point did you get this gonk-ass idea? Do too much synthcoke and now you think the FIA's got cameras in the walls?"
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"Then why're you makin' it hard for me to get back in contact with V's friends?"
"Because it's been two fuckin' years, Vega!" Johnny shouted, "People move on, might not like what you see! I disappeared for fifty years and when I woke up, in the brain of some gonk wannabe Solo, and I saw the world I used to inhabit with my own meatsack, I wanted to fuckin' nuke it again!"
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"And what, pray tell, might I not like? Not like Vega, as in me, was personally involved in any of their lives. Thought I made that blatantly clear?"
"Who fuckin' knows? Maybe River's selling government secrets to keep 'imself alive, Rogue retired and Judy grew her hair out? Maybe Arasaka Tower got rebuilt, ten feet taller? The Emperor of Earth, Saburo Arasaka, controls the world from the Golden Throne of Terra? Your Ronin friend Takemura's a feudal warlord in the post-corpo war wastes of what used to be Japantown?"
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"You that good at makin' shit up, or did you actually glean some knowledge I somehow missed?"
"Hyperbole, V, don't they teach figures of speech and poetic devices at school anymore... oh, wait, you're a fuckin Bakker, so I assume school consists of clips of Vin Diesel from Fast and Furious. 'Family'."
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"Fuck you too, Silverhand."
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"Let's just... not talk for a while, 'kay? I'm liable to have a fuckin' aneurysm."
"Sure... what the?"
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"V... are you...?"
"What is it, Johnny?"
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"Someone's fuckin' with you, trying to breach the system!"
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"Quit... Johnny?"
"...what in the...?"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHH! FUCK!"
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"Oh, shit! Not feelin..."
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"C-can't... breathe!"
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"N...not like this..."
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"V?"
"Oh, shit, maybe I am too hard on the hardware..." the voice muttered as a ghostly hand fell onto Vega's shoulder, "Give me a sec, I'll think of something. Can't leave you like this..."
PROXY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED
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"No Relic... that explains it. Jacked directly into her brain... gonk mistake."
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"Almost forgot the smell of real air... the taste... no, focus So Mi, get her off the balcony and somewhere safe."
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"Now, let's see. Apartment 1242..."
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"Almost forgot what walkin' in Earth gravity feels like... careful, don't trip now..."
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"Okay... not bad. Get you onto a bed and you should wake up right as rain..."
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"God, I hope she doesn't remember this..."
How to Make and Keep Friends, by Song So Mi
Manipulate a dying woman into helping you steal a cure for yourself.
Take the cure and go to the Moon. Hope said dying woman finds a cure.
After two years of complete radio silence, re-enter their life by accidentally causing a neural net blowout that hits them as hard as a major Relic malfunction.
Use a proxy protocol to control their body like a drone and get them back to their apartment.
Pray to God that they don't remember this when they wake up.
Hope they aren't going to be mad at you for the things you did.
With this simple method, you too can have as many friends as So Mi!
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trulylino · 2 years
Text
=> Waking Up In Vegas - MYG
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Pairing: Suga x gn!reader
Genre: Fluff
Summary: Yoongi looks after a drunk y/n in vegas. The last part is loosely based on Waking up in Vegas by Katy Perry because I remembered that it existed and added the morning part.
Warnings: Alcohol, marriage, a few swear words maybe idk I can't remember and I only wrote this 5 minutes ago
Word count: 1.1k
Masterlist
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"Ya, y/n, don't you think that's enough shots?" Yoongi questions, as you finish your forth collective bottle of soju. He had been drinking too but somehow he seemed much more sober than you did.
"Just one more, OK? I'm not that drunk," you argued, your words slurring off your tongue. "Can we get another bottle?" You asked the bartender as you slumped into the table. You were not used to drinking quite this much you had to admit. You started to wonder if it was simply your desire to keep up with the mint haired man in front of you that kept you reaching for the bottle again and again. He always seemed to see you at your worst, you decided, although, it was probably too late to redeem yourself, so why should you stop. The only sensible way your mind could conjour up to fix your embarrassment was to blackout, thereby forgetting everything. It was a genius plan to your drunken mind.
The waiter placed your new bottle on the table and you almost immediately sat up, ready to down shot after shot, prepared to have the whole thing yourself despite the increasingly bitter taste. How did he enjoy this so much? Although, you did quite like the feeling that the liquor was giving you. You felt almost bubbly, like you could float away at any moment like a balloon. When you looked over at Yoongi, his furrowed eyebrows morphed into slugs, your slightly bleary vision making you giggle. It reminded you of when you were in school and they had let you try on those glasses which had made your eyes go all funny. What were they for again?
"Y/n, that's enough. You told me to stop you drinking too much!" Drunk glasses! That's what they were! But that didn't make sense, because you weren't drunk in the slightest. Maybe a little tipsy. You reached for the new bottle and poured yourself and Yoongi a shot and he glanced worriedly at you. He shook his head at your offering of the drink so with a shrug you decided you would take it off his hands for him.
With a shudder you poured both of them down your throat. He sighed, defeated, reaching forward for the bottle which you apparently loved so much, removing it from your reach.
"Rude," you commented, standing up, sick of Yoongi denying you the alcohol.
"Y/n, where are you going?" He followed you out the bar, making sure to leave the money on the table, he wasn't exactly about to leave without paying, as it didn't seem like you were interested in doing so. You would definitely be paying him back later.
"A walk!" You skipped down the road in a (definitely not) straight line. Yoongi hurried to catch up with you, surprised at your speed considering the amount of units you had consumed at this point.
"We should probably go home, y/n, you're gonna get hit by a car or something."
"Oh, lighten up! Let's party!" You jumped up, attempting to replicate some sort of dance (although it was pretty unrecognisable) and promptly stumbled over, ending up on the floor. You instantly, instead of complaining about the fall as Yoongi would have expected, burst out into a fit of laughter. He smiled from above you, kneeling down to match your height and to help you up.
"You're such an idiot drunk, you know that right?" He laughed, pulling your arm to help you up.
"I'm not drunk, you're just blurry!" You reasoned with him, rather unconvincingly. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to bring you out to a bar in Vegas with him, but he couldn't exactly leave you at home whilst you were on vacation.
"Maybe you should get your eyes tested then." He snorted, air blowing onto your face at your close proximity.
"You have good eyes." You thought aloud, staring right into his own pretty eyes.
"What was that, y/n?"
"You have pretty eyes." Suddenly all manner of humor was gone from your tone, replaced with something sincere which Yoongi wasn't sure you had in you. His disbelief was instantly shattered as you fell over again, laughing as you did it. It wasn't as far a fall as last time considering you had only been half standing, clinging to Yoongi's arm, nearly dragging to poor man down with you.
"Let's just go back to the hotel, OK?" But you were unresponsive. He nudged you. Still nothing. Becoming increasingly worried he began to shake you more aggressively. "Y/n??"
"Gotcha!" You squealed in excitement, rolling over on the street. Sober you would never have put yourself anywhere near the dirty floor of Las Vegas but here you were.
"Right, you're getting on my back, c'mon." He hauled you up, stumbling slightly under the sudden weight and began making his way towards your hotel. You snuggled into his back, head burrowing it's way into his shoulder. You remained relatively silent for a few minutes as the late hour was beginning to catch up with you but your mind was still buzzing with thoughts, and drunk you didn't seem to have a filter.
"On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if we went and got married right now?"
"What?"
"I said, on a scale of one to-"
"I heard what you said," he paused, thinking, "Ten, let's do it in the morning when we're sober."
"It's not as fun then!"
"I'm not quite as drunk as you you know."
"Let's just cuddle when we get back to the hotel then?"
"Only if you let me be your boyfriend." His words were like an electrical impulse to your brain and all you could think was one thing. Your mind had abandoned all other words apart from the answer which was bouncing around the inside of your head: yes.
"Deal."
・・・・・・
Perhaps it had been a stupid idea to drink that much. You could feel the pounding headache before you even opened your eyes. But that wasn't the only thing you could feel. No. What was that? Was that? No. It couldn't be. Yoongi?
You tentatively opened your eyes only to see the boy next to you, arm wrapped around your chest, legs wrapped around your waist. That was definitely not just a blanket. Slowly the events of yesterday creeped back into your mind and you cringed at the memory of you calling him your 'meow meow' at one point. Hopefully he forgot that as he would never let you if he didn't. Beside you, Yoongi was stirring too.
"Now, how about that drive through wedding?" He murmured, eyes still half closed. You supposed that this was what you got for waking up in Vegas.
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Taglist: @dreamescapeswriting @sparkyprotectionsquad @bang-me-chan
Credits: Header by @jeonhours
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dancinbutterfly · 2 years
Note
I love all your meta on KinnPorsche, thank you for sharing it! You've written so much, so obviously only answer this if it's interesting to you.
Do you have any thoughts on Tawan as a character? I can't really figure him out beyond "plot device," and have trouble picturing his and Kinn's relationship. Was he always manipulative or was he genuinely into Kinn initially and than got greedy? What did Kinn see in him?
When did he connect with Vegas- did Vegas find Tawan first and tell him to seduce Kinn, or swoop in on his cousin's bf afterward? Why was he so snakey and conniving with Kinn, but so naive with Vegas? Why was he so in love with (dependent on?) Vegas that he would commit suicide after being betrayed? Vegas knows how to charm obviously, but he doesn't seem to me like he's that good at keeping it up long term.
Anyway, if you have thoughts on this mystery man that that you feel like sharing, I'd love to hear them. Thanks!
Ok. Tawan *exhale* We don't know a lot about Tawan. That kind of sucks actually. Because there's a lot there.
But.
The fact is, he does a few things that are big clues for who he is. And I have this meme I've been throwing at @liyazaki since the finale that when it comes to Kinnporsche The Series is the Rule of Thumb I lean on with all my fucking weight when I have questions and it has yet to fail me. If anything? It answers them and then opens doors to new questions and provides me with new questions and deeper understanding. You ready?
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Every BTS interview, crew detail, product interview or other resource we have recieved tells us that the dramaturgic effort put into in this show is fucking insane. Dramaturgy, to quote wikipedia is "Dramaturgy is a comprehensive exploration of the context in which the play resides. The dramaturge is tasked to obtain expertise on: the physical, social, political, and economic environment in which the action takes place; the psychological underpinnings of the characters; the various metaphorical expressions in the play of thematic concerns; as well as the technical consideration of the play as a piece of writing (structure, rhythm, flow, and even individual word choices).[12]" Every time you see the cast members talk about meeting with acting and intimacy coaches, discuss how they spent YEARS with the script, how they called each other on the phone to check how they should respond to each other, how the crew took time to rally think about how everything would function, how the fucking diamonds in the diamond auction are actual diamonds that are worth millions of fucking dollars? You're dealing with a production that took the dramaturgy of the production seriously.
So. I have said in my metas that I'm a therapist. And I am! But my undergrad degree was in creative writing and I spent 2 semesters in England where I went to a fuck ton of West End plays and took screen and playwriting and spent a very long time on media studies and I made a serious effort at trying to get into media journalism before I gave up and was like "Maybe this isn't the answer." Because it isn't. I'm supposed to be doing what I do. But what I learned is how to understand writing and stories and the way people put together narratives in the larger commercial sense and in their own lives. It is genuinely one of the most helpful things in my career as a clinician.
Why'd I tell you all that?
Because a lot of time, all I get is a little bit of time with someone as clinician an. One intake. A few sessions to try and do the best I can and being able to look for coherence and motive is the best I can do. In the life of a real human being? That's easy. Because people's lives don't stop. There's only one person contributing. The person actually living it.
In filmed media? There's literally hundreds of contributors. So you have to take into account the fact that you're going to get an absolutely wild number of inconsistencies due to multiple inputs and sorta...allow for that and suspend your disbelief. You have to just...not dig deeper. If you are used to Watching Commercial Media? It's a thing that sort you are probably used to doing in order to, uh, Enjoy TV and Movies. I know I am.
USUALLY.
Unless, of course, you are dealing with a production that has taken time to care for? THE DRAMATURGY. If the production has proven, repeatedly, it has taken care with regards to the dramaturgical aspects? Then you can take the givens as fact for the most part and allow a little wiggle room for errors here and there, understanding that continuity editors are humans too.
Having established all that? Which I really do think is important? Let's fucking get into Tawan. Because holy fuck dude. He is a mess and his deal with regards to Kinn and Vegas is just...amazing.
*exhales*
Okay I do not speak Thai. The most exposure I have is the stuff a Thai fandom friend who was getting her Masters at LSE while I was also studying abroad in London taught me and the like...half a dozen BLs I've seen. So everything I have is pulled from English subs of this show. There's zero nuance here, all text. Great.
Things we don't know: How long ago, exactly, Kinn shot Tawan. How long ago, exactly, Kinn and Tawan started dating besides "when we were in college." I am still not exactly sure when that was because idfk how old anyone but Porsche is!? We also don't know how long ago, exactly, Vegas and Tawan met. We don't know who met who first. And we don't know wow long Tawan was gone.
Of the information that we LACK there is only one specific that is truly crucial and that is with regards to the question: Who met Tawan first? We can come back to that one with some deductions based on what we do have. So, lets put a pin in that. 📌
Alright. Let's head to this post's Pepe Silvia Conspiracy Board (TM) to look at what we have:
We find out in Episode 2, after Kinn chokes the shit out of Porsche, Pete is there when Porsche wakes up. Porsche gets angry and Pete tells Porsche to calm down, he tells Porsche that Kinn saved his life, that otherwise the Minor Family would have shot Porsche to death for what Porsche did to Macau (the first time we actively discuss someone being shot to death out loud). Pete says that Porsche needs to think this through and then Pete says "If Kinn really thought of killing you, wouldn't it be easier to just shoot you then." He asks Porsche why Kin would let him live to talk to Pete now? Then Pete says "Mr Kinn used to be kind in that past. He loved his people. But the people he loved. But the reason he became cruel...was not totally on him." Porsche asks him why. Pete doesn't tell him. This is the first time we hear about Tawan. We don't know it? But thats when we learn about it.
In Episode 3 after the debt collection shooting when Kinn cleans Porsche's wound and they talk about a mole, Porsche is dismayed that after just getting shot, Kinn would still suspect him. Kinn says "If you've been in my situation you'll suspect everyone." Which ya know, could just be about being in the mafia. OR. It could be a reference to Tawan. Cuz Kim and Tankhun and Korn and Kan and Vegas sure as fuck arent that fucking paranoid about someone on the inside leaking information and getting them murdered - ya know, SPECIFICALLY.
Episode 4. Vegas baby! The Table of Tension! The back and forth goes thusly as Vegas and Kinn talk about Porsche, in front of him(and Pete, and Arm, and Pol) like he isn't fucking there regarding Porsche coming to work for Vegas, since Vegas's personal bodyguard quit (sure he has Vegas, we didn't watch your dad order you to stalk Porsche in the last scene of Episode 2 - I'm sure his quitting isn't something you orchestrated personally) so you would have an excuse to hire Porsche as a replacement which Kinn is absolutely not fucking having post pier smooches with the excuse that Porsche is Tankhun's bodyguard and he won't let him go. The exchange is as follows Kinn: I dont like getting into business and I dont like other people getting into mine. Vegas: Why's that? Oh. You're afraid that when you open your heart, you will be hurt again? *cue Tankhun with the alumnimum tray*
The bit where Vegas drugs and assaults Porsche is in this episode too. And I mention it because Vegas has the most BASIC of instructions regarding Porsche from his dad: watch him and report back to Kan. How Vegas does what he does? That's all Vegas's decision. The drugging is premeditated. The minor family goons go and take Porsche then. Then entire auction goes by without anyone noticing Porsche is gone. Yet, there is a moment at the auction where Vegas bets 50 and Kinn goes to 100 and Vegas can't beat him. Vegas gets up, clearly bested, and ONLY THEN does he goes to assault Porsche. In the hotel room Vegas basically "Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you. A guy like you doesn't like to force anyone. I just want to put a stamp on you for Kinn as a souvenir. Just that, a paranoid guy like him would be angered to death. Don't worry I'll try to be gentle." Then he tries give Porsche a hickey. When Porsche headbutts him, Vegas says "So this is how you like it," flips him but before he can do anything Kinn shows up. He never does anything. We get no indication that he is going to do anything but leave a mark on Porsche.
Episode 5 is profoundly different on rewatch. When you watch this episode now, we have to keep in mind that Vegas has his spy place in the house in a very specific tactical position who 1) who has been torturing Porsche all fucking episode (Hi Ken, what's up baby? you are staggeringly good looking and also a piece of shit) but more importantly 2)has been giving Vegas information all this entire episode. At the beginning of this episode, Porsche and Kinn rock up to the house after spending THE ENTIRE FUCKING NIGHT at the hotel together after Ken specifically left Kinn kicked Ken and the other bodyguards out to care for Porsche alone. Hm. Pete may be an sweet oblivious sunshine boy but Korn knows they fucked when he calls Kinn in for his reprimand. When Ken reports back that Kinn has rolled in in the same clothes he was wearing the night before with Porsche in tow and got called to talk with Daddy? Vegas, who is not stupid and who has to report to his own tyrant of a father, can be assumed to have put the same pieces what happened after he left Porsche together because literally, that was the point. Vegas said in Episode 4 he was trying to provoke Kinn and lookit that, he did. After that, we know that Kinn has to punish Porsche because he is his father's creature and what Korn says goes but again, when Porsche under going Ken is there.
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So Ken knows that Porsche is being punished and that Kinn ordered it and how bad it is and he will have told Vegas all of it so Vegas knows that Porsche is at odds with Kinn, is feeling like shit, and going out for the night with Tankhun and co. So what's he do? He goes for what he's learned about Porsche to seduce him. He approaches with things Porsche likes: Well you used to have a red motorcycle, before you came to work for the family - so I'll show up on the BEST red motorcycle and I'll let YOU drive it. Why don't we leave here together, go fast and be free. And not only does it work? It works big time. Vegas is able to change Porsche's entire attitude and has Porsche falling into his arms by the end of it. It works and Vegas knows it and Ill be honest, I think he enjoys it - both the success of getting his hooks into Porsche and of accomplishing the task his father gave him.
In my opinion? For Vegas, the story goes: His father tells him to do something. He does it. Then he gets in his feelings about it. And he makes a decision on HOW he's going to do it based on that. Case in motherfucking point? Pete.
So, who was Tawan with first? Answer: Kinn. I think it was Kinn because of Vegas's obsessively reactionary nature. The likeliest course is tha Gun told Vegas to do something like keep an eye on Kinn while they were at school or to watch out for whole the Main Family was working with or to make connections with the other crime families, and Kinn did something that made Vegas feel small or pushed down or otherwise like shit whether he intended to or not and Vegas pounced like he did in Episode 5, with a seduction to take what belonged to Kinn whether Vegas actually wanted it or not.
I lay this out for you because we are given Porsche and Tawan as parallels, very specifically, later on in Episodes 9 and 10, but Episode 5 is Vegas's first seduction of Porsche. And it succeeds. So with that in mind, we need to be aware that there's a big delineation between Porsche's story and Tawan's and it happens at the end of episode 5.
🥁🥁🥁
THE KIDNAPPING!
By the end of Episode 5, Porsche and Kinn are kidnapped which sets off all the shenanigans in the woods in Episode 6 which are, we all agree, the moment when they truly fall In Love with each other. Tawan and Kinn never go through that kind of trial by fire. For good or for ill, the bond caused by the isolation and intimacy of their time in the woods in Episode 6 created a foundation between Kinn and Porsche that Tawan and Kinn never fucking had. It just did not exist for those two. By the time Kinn and Porsche got back to civilization, there was a bedrock between them that was fucking unbreakable.
Why's that matter? Because once we get to Episode 7 Vegas is right back on his seduction game again. We get back to civilization in Episode 7, Kinn is still injured, Porsche is handed over to Vegas like an object, and Vegas is the first one to bring up that Kinn gets jealous to broach the subject of Tawan directly. Yeah, no fucking shit, Sherlock. He's been getting jealous of everything Porsche did with you for the last 5 episodes. Now Vegas has the perfect opportunity to spring the trap on this absolutely excellent bait and Porsche eats it up (see:Kinn's pathological jealous since Episode 2). It leads to the conversation where Vegas gives Porsche what we later confirm from Kinn's own mouth is 100% true information that: 1)Kinn was the first(and only) person Kinn was ever serious about 2)that Tawan betrayed Kinn and that 3) Kinn shot Tawan to death. Not one single fucking thing Vegas said there was a lie and oh man do I have THOUGHTS about that*.
I think it is important to point out that at no time, at all, prior to meeting Tawan does Kinn EVER say out loud, in ANY WAY, that he thinks that Tawan was fucking someone else. Kinn says he loved Tawan. He says he was betrayed by Tawan but Kinn says the betrayal was, explicitly, that Tawan sold the Family information out to the Italians. He says he shot Tawan for the sale of information - not for cheating.
What Kinn says after that, when Porsche probes deeper to find out how Kinn feels about it is: "I had no choice. Tawan didn't love me. Never did. He just used me. So that's why Tawan can't be a jealous ghost that haunts you." And I think he's right. The thing you really need to look at is positions of devotions with Tawan. Look.
These are pictures of of Kinn's relationship with Tawan. Look at the positioning of Tawan and Kinn. Look at Tawan's face, he's got a tight mouth and a tipped up chin, almost but not quite disdainful or uncomfortable. If you don't know that he doesn't want to be there? You'd miss it as just a selfie. But when you know that his heart isn't in this compared to Kinn? It's fucking obvious because Kinn is smiling. Kinn has at least one eye covered in each picture because he is loose and relaxed and (metaphorically) blinded by love. And Kinn is behind or at an angle to front-facing Tawan because Tawan has all the power here.
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Huh what does that look like. Give you a hint, in this show that is an absolute SLUT for parallels.
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That shit is not an accident. Not on the "everything is a parallel" show.
Which brings us back to the question, who was Tawan with first? My see my previous answer: I think it was Kinn.
*Because nothing Vegas said was a lie as far as we know. This was the first time Kinn was with someone. Also? Based on ALL the evidence we have? Kinn had no indication of reason to be romantically jealous. So why would he think that his boyfriend was fucking his cousin if Tawan was with Vegas was with first?
I'm gonna cite episode 4, and the moment when Vegas loses the diamond auction for why Vegas moved on Tawan after Kinn started dating him. Remember - it was only after Kinn beat Vegas in the auction that Vegas left the room to go use Porsche as a target of jealousy specifically, rather than just taking him out of the space. So much of what Vegas does, in his life, is in direct response to Kinn. So maybe what happened here was like what happened with Porche - with Gun directing Vegas to keep an eye on Kinn in college or investigate Kinn's new relationship and Kinn one upping Vegas and Vegas going "Fine fuck you then" and making a move on Tawan. It's a possibility. Can't be sure except that we know that Vegas acts because of and in spite of Kinn and so likely Tawan was with Kinn first and Vegas acted second.
So that's the evidence on the timing of the Kinn and Tawan and Vegas triangle as we have it.
Your other questions are a lot more a lot more interesting to me yet a lot easier to answer. I'm just going to C&P them here for convience and to remind us of what they are.
Why was he[Tawan] so snakey and conniving with Kinn, but so naive with Vegas? Why was he so in love with (dependent on?) Vegas that he would commit suicide after being betrayed? Vegas knows how to charm obviously, but he doesn't seem to me like he's that good at keeping it up long term.
Okay so this next bit is going to dig into a bunch of my thoughts on who Vegas is as a person where those thoughts answers your questions and we have to address what we know concretely about Tawan and what those few facts imply and what that lead me to assume.
So Tawan first. When Kinn rolls into the warehouse, he says he knew about Tawan's plan to get more information for Vegas all along. Tawan's death, when the smoke clears on the explosion in the warehouse, Kinn says that he knew from the start that Tawan was work Pete had found evidence that Tawan and Vegas had been in contact. From this? It's not an unreasonable guess to make that whatever was going on with Vegas and Tawan was going on probably back to the first shooting. Otherwise how did Tawan survive? Who would have known about him being shot and who would have helped him? Who would have reason to do so and who would have dared to go against the family? Answer: Vegas. It is entirely possible that this is how things started between them - that Tawan got greedy, or desperate, or something else and sold Kinn out selfishly the first time and then Vegas saved him just to spite Kinn (because again, remember, Vegas is pathologically acting in competition and spite of Kinn) and gratitude for saving him would be an excellent reason for Tawan to fall desperately in love with Vegas. But regardless, I am fairly convinced that Vegas saved him whether they got together before or after Vegas rescued him from Kinn and I actually think this rescue is a highly likely candidate for how Tawan became so fucking pathetic for Vegas because, well, after Vegas rescued him? Then what must have happened?
Well, then Tawan has nowhere to go and nothing to do. He's in hiding. He's probably in a safe house based on the bland decor of the one place we see them together as a couple. And we, as a fandom, know there's a whole lot of fucking nothing to do in hiding like that. glances at Pete and Vegas in that bisexually lit sex dungeon You have nothing to do but sit and talk with the person taking care of you. And wait. And fuck. And wait. And become more and more dependent on the person who is caring for you. Who loves you. We saw what that looked like if both people are trapped. glances at Pete and Vegas in that bisexually lit sex dungeon again Imagine if you will for a moment if one person is able to come and go freely? And the other can't because there is someone who truly would kill them if they left. Yeah. Vegas doesn't actually need to have held Tawan hostage in that scenario. The situation would have done it for him.
Tawan makes a desperate bid for Kinn's affection to get out of his fucked state because he is that scared. This is that dire and it doesn't work because he is that screwed and he always was. When it fails, Porsche points out that Tawan said he loved Vegas and he points out that Vegas abandoned him. But it's when Porsche pushes on the fact that Vegas used him that Tawan fucking snaps.
Because like…the thing about that scenario, the one I'm assuming happened where Vegas came and went and Tawan had to stay in order to stay safe - is that the power imbalance of that is fucking profound. Tawan's world stops. Vegas's keeps on going. Tawan's world becomes Vegas. Vegas's world doesn't change at all. And Tawan, I think, knew that. He coped by telling himself if he could do enough, Vegas would love him enough (which incidentally, is what Vegas told himself about his father - because that is what abusers do, they repeat the cycles of the abuse they suffered themselves).
I am fucking convinced this is the case because this was is Vegas's signature move. He literally pulled this shit out with Pete after all, take a boy back to a safe house, lock him away, make him dependent on you, make him love you.
That said? I don't think Vegas was lying because Vegas? Is a garbage liar and doesn't bother to lie much (unless he is following the orders of his father in which case he will lie like a fucking rug about the whats and the whys but not much else - seriously, go back up, I late it out, and rewatch - the man only lies about shit he's doing for work and by omission - it is WILD).
Vegas says in the big confrontation with Porsche says "I've been exchanging information with the Yakuza and the Italians for a long time." before it all goes to shit and Kim and Big show up guns blazing. What we get in this scene is that 1)Tawan moving on the Main Family is NOT Vegas's idea originally. Vegas shows up and demands angrily for an explanation from Tawan, Tawan is hurt and confused because he's just trying to help Vegas and he was with the Main Family for a long time just trying to get information but couldnt and so this is what he has to do, get it from Porsche who must have it. Which is absolutely not correct and not what Vegas wants but Tawan is trying to do enough to get the love he wants so he can be more of Vegas's world because he isn't getting it things currently stands.
In response Vegas spends the most time speaking in English here than he does in the whole show and it drives me CRAZY because he's got no one in the room who doesn't speak Thai as a first language so what the hell is he doing? Is he just that upset? That stressed out? That frustrated? Has he been sitting on the situation for that long? I also love it because finally I can pick on some goddamn nuance of what he's thinking in a way I cannot without a cheat cuz language shit is hard for my profoundly audio-processing disordered brain
But what the English he drops in this scene gives me is a set of baselines that I can then pick up in the Thai and it is so much help for me to catch more from the Thai thank you Bible you fucking GIFT.
So lets take what we know.
Because we know that both family heads are absolute control freaks. We know Vegas goes to the house for a meeting once a month, every month, and probably has his whole life.
Vegas in those scenes with Tawan…fuck yall.
He's barely there. He's already won this man and he is empty. And having watching the warehouse scene and the mirror scene again several times after watching the Pete scenes? It's really clear that Vegas isn't physically or emotionally attracted to Tawan. Knowing what we know about Vegas's true needs - that Vegas is a person who is desperate for someone who will both push back against him and accept him as he actually is not as he presents himself on his best behavior - his behavior with Tawan makes perfect sense. Tawan has an ideal he wants. Tawan wants soft love and a soft life where he can curl up and be petted because he's probably been broken by captivity and he thinks Vegas is going to give him what he needs if only Tawan can jump through Vegas's hoops when he stopped being anything but anything a lapdog to Vegas probably a long time ago.
Vegas has absolutely no fucking patience for that shit. You can see how little tolerance he has for it every time Tawan touches him. Vegas has left the building, if he was ever there.
The terribly sad thing is? I think Vegas was present for Tawan, for a minute. This moment right here? I think this is sincere.
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I think there are were moments of softness between them that were absolutely genuine. I think Vegas probably touched him with kindness and kissed him with gentleness and it was real. I think Tawan gave him things that helped him and he appreciated it. I think that there were good moments between them and Vegas valued them. I think that even some of the softer things we saw in that awful awkward moment in that stale room were true.
I also fucking Vegas shooting Tawan and abandoning him is real too. But it's worth noting that Tawan had to get that bulletproof vest from somewhere and it wasn't Kinn. The only place Tawan could have gotten it is from the Minor Family unless Erika in the armory gave it to him and, uh, why would she have if the Main Family knew Tawan was suspected? It is highly unlikely Vegas didn't know Tawan was wearing it when he shot him and that considered, Vegas could have shot Tawan in the head. He didn't. He left Tawan to Kinn and he left Tawan to blow Kinn up and shoot himself but he left Tawan to choose that for himself. It was fucking cold as ice and tactical as hell and it backed Tawan into a fucker of a corner, but it was still a choice that he did leave for Tawan to make for himself when he could have just executed him. That's what Kinn did after all.
Vegas is great because part of what makes him such a skilled manipulator is that I think he tries to believe as much of what he does as he can as long as he can. He falls into a category of character I fucking love. He falls into the same category with Loki from the MCU and Vaerys from GOT which is: Character Labeled A Liar Because People Don't Know How To Handle Someone Who Uses Truth Duplicitously To Cause Active Harm. These kinds of characters are fucking special. They are absolutely the most dangerous because they know how to be completely present wherever and whenever they are and they are not lying to you about how they feel or what they are doing in the present moment. What they are lying to you about, if they are even lying at all - which they often arent - is what brought them to be doing what they are doing in the first place. Now they are here? Everything they are doing is true and coming from a place that is heartfelt. That is dangerous shit because yeah, you can't fake a feeling. But you can fake a reason for doing what you're doing and then mean whatever you're doing now you're doing it. Whoo, that's dangerous as fuck and that's what Vegas can do. And I don't think he'd even do that if he wasn't in an impossible situation.
The way Tawan melts down when he's cornered after Vegas shoots him and abandons him? The way Kinn shakes his head in disbelief? That fells real. I believe it. It's an excellent performance on the part of Napath and Mile, the utter shock of it all - but it backs up my belief that Vegas brought as much of his true self as he could to Tawan. The problem is? Too much of Vegas belongs - at the moment that Tawan arrives at the temple behind Kinn and Porsche - the Vegas's father and the Minor Family and the rest are not things that Vegas would have been able to give Tawan anyway. There is not and could not possibly be enough of Vegas to have given enough to spare of Vegas for him to be a whole person, let alone for him to spare enough for Tawan. By the time Pete comes around, there's only enough to spare because the man fucking dies and Pete refuses to let Vegas go down with him.
Tawan had no fucking chance for a dozen reasons but he is a tragedy. He chose to be and he always was. There was no version, not with Kinn and not with Vegas, don't think that ended well for him. He made choices that kept leading him into attaching his happiness into other people taking care of him, other things outside of himself being his happiness, but his happiness never being about anything but himself. And so I think, he was always doomed.
Anyway thank you for this ask - sorry it took me like 2 weeks? I had to rewatch the series and figure out how to get all this out. I appreciate your patience!
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rughydrangea · 1 month
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I made the decision a while ago for this to be a fandom space; I wanted it to be somewhere that I only posted about things that either made me happy or were completely meaningless. In my own life I spend a lot of time reading about the world and feeling great despair and trying to rouse myself out of my despair to do something (today was productive; I called and yelled at my senators' voicemails about Gaza and set up a recurring donation to Meduza), and I didn't want that to bleed over onto here.
I don't even know what I can say about Navalny. Last Thursday I flew out to Las Vegas to a professional conference--a large group of people who study Eastern Europe/Eurasia, a large number of whom are Russian citizens. On Friday morning, I woke up, read the news as I always do first thing, and felt something inside me break. Navalny rose to national prominence around the time I started getting serious about Russia, and he was a constant to me. In the past three years, again and again I was overwhelmed by his courage, and his ability to keep on joking and smiling and dictating memes to his social media people even as he suffered under such inhumane conditions. It turned out he meant even more to me than I thought, because the idea that he isn't here anymore, that he won't get to see the wonderful future Russia that he believed in and that I hope for with every fiber of my being hurts too much to bear.
In a way I was lucky that this happened when I was surrounded by Slavists, by Russians. On Friday afternoon there was a reading and Q&A by the opposition journalist Elena Kostyuchenko. The second question in the Q&A was asked by a middle aged man, who stood up and said, "Is there no hope left?" Her answer was quite beautiful ("There is still hope, but we must create it ourselves"), but what really stood out to me was the constant sound of sniffling, including from myself. Everyone was crying.
That evening there was a meeting (when that English word is used in Russian, it typically means a political gathering or protest). I live in a small town that is three hours away from the closest major city, so never have the opportunity to attend meetings. I went. It was in front of the Bellagio; in order to get there, I had to make my way through a luxury shopping mall and a large chunk of the hotel's casino. Once I was outside, there was a Lunar New Year celebration, and then finally, a small group of Russians, holding signs with slogans like Путин - убийца (Putin is a murderer) and the white-blue-white opposition flag. I had no sign and felt out of place, but settled in for a bit. Another woman from the conference got in an argument with a local Russian who was evidently anti-Putin (thus his presence) but somehow pro-Trump. It was a fittingly surreal experience for a surreal day.
On Saturday evening there was an impromptu poetry reading. People read out poems written in Navalny's honor, and other pieces of contemporary political writing, and shared their grief and fear for their relatives still in Russia. I have always been an easy crier, and though I was not alone in crying then, I felt like I was doing something wrong--nobody in my family is in danger from Putin's government. A woman afterwards said it was good that I cry so easily, it means I have a soft heart. I don't know that I think it's a good thing. There's a Hilary Mantel line: "You must thrive in spite of yourself; and so that you may do it, God takes out your heart of flesh, and gives you a heart of stone." I feel like I've been waiting for my heart of stone for 33 years, but it's nowhere to be seen. Maybe that's why I'm not exactly thriving.
I've always resisted communal grief. I thought I had permanently ruptured my relationship with my mother when I skipped my grandmother's memorial, but I couldn't face the prospect of sharing my grief with anyone, not even my family. It was too personal for that. But obviously I didn't know Navalny personally, and my grief for him is tied up in my grief for Russia, this country that I love so much and that I want to see free and happy and peaceful and kind the way I believe it can be. And Navalny did too, and never stopped fighting for it. Even when it killed him. Never for a second could I think of this as a personal loss. It's a loss we share. I feel lucky that I was able to feel that in a community.
(I felt this even more strongly when I briefly ventured into English-language commentary from the intellectuals of the internet (lol), who either didn't get why this was a big deal or didn't care because they know that Navalny was aligned with right-wing movements at the beginning of his career and apparently that is all that matters. I would never dream of defending his flirtation with Russian nationalism, but to act as though nothing that came after (even though was came after was the vast majority of his career) mattered, and to ignore the fact that he turned away from those nationalist movements is just complete bullshit and it makes me so angry. He practiced self-improvement, I thought that was a good thing. But no, I guess only saints are worthy of being mourned on Al Gore's internet.)
Today I woke up and watched Yulia Navalnaya's video. It's here, I highly recommend you watch it if you haven't already. I'm in awe of her strength, her anger, and her love. I made my advanced Russian students watch the whole video and translate it, I had my first years watch the ending with English subtitles. For my second years, I couldn't watch it again, but we listened to a song, "This will pass," by the group Pornofilmy. It's a protest song, and so fucking beautiful (it was my number one song on my Spotify unwrapped last year lol). "This will pass / what a black era has befallen us / but in the distance appears to me / the forgotten light of living hope / this will certainly pass!"
I just couldn't pretend to my students that everything was normal. As students of Russian language, too, they have to understand how important all of this is. Even though I started crying in every class, yikes. I know there's nothing more awkward than a crying teacher, but I still can't believe it. I still can't accept it. I am going to try to do what he encouraged: I won't give up, I won't do nothing. I will do my best to act, as I can, as an American (what I can do is different than if I were Russian, and my responsibilities are different, since my government commits its own evils).
Congrats if you made it to the end! The horrors of this world are too many to count, but as someone who truly loves Russia with all my soul, this fucking hurts.
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