#a long time coming one shot
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Title: A Long Time Coming {1}
Lewis Hamilton x Friend Group Reader
Warning: Cursing, Teasing, Slow Burn, Plot
Words: 5.5k
Summary: After a long, grueling and stressful 2023 season where Lewis dominated and showed the world once again why he was the best at what he does. He walks away with his 8th championship title and plans with his closest and bestest for some much-needed R&R.
Note: If you couldn’t tell by the summary, we are manifesting with this fic, MANIFESTING HARD for Lewis for 2023. Also, thank you Ru for filling in some of the friend info for me. XOXO
Thank you for reading, I appreciate it!
If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!
***NOT Edited/Proofread***
***Interactive***
~~~~~~~
"Just fuck already! Everyone knows you both want to. Shit it’s been years of this pining from a distance, and will they won’t they suspense. Years of both of you playing too many fucking games!"
Your eyes widened at her unexpected outburst; an outburst geared to you.
"Hey, hey, easy with those accusations, matter of fact baseless accusations."
You continued to apply her your makeup. Everyone was set to meet at the airfield at a certain time and though you were usually late for most things that didn’t include work, you really wanted to get there on time.
"Baseless? Y/N! The looks you both share, the undercover flirting that everyone has peeped at some time or another over the years since you reconnected, the connection, the--."
"Aht, Aht, Aht, stop all that mess. Whatever you're smoking please bring some along cause we all deserve to be this delusional at some point on this trip."
Gisella hip bumper you so hard that you went flying onto the bed. When you landed you busted out into a fit of giggles. "What have I told you about using that weapon against friendlies?"
"Friendlies my ass! I’m just tryna help your kitty kat finally purr. No one should have to be celibate for 4 years."
"Ain’t nobody forcing me. It's a choice," you countered.
"A choice because you’ve been dealing with fools, assholes and below subpar men and you don’t have to when you have Lewis."
"I don’t have Lewis, everyone has Lewis," you teased taking a stab at his philandering reputation.
Gisella couldn’t help but giggle. Lew's reputation was legendary. You’d heard so many rumors about every aspect of him over the years it was insane. You tried to steer clear of the majority of it but there were bombs that were dropped among your friend group and those bombs had made you know more about his alleged stroke game and alleged baseball bat pleasure stick than you should.
Those bits lived rent free in your head, but you'd never admit it out loud or to yourself for that matter. Before your head could drift off to those rent-free thoughts, you shook your head hoping to clear it. Just then Nikki walked in dressed as if this trip was a fashion show. No doubt she was wearing everything from her new line, Baciami.
"Another Lewis denial?"
"You know it!”
You rolled your eyes. When these two decided to gang up on you, you didn't stand a chance. Rolling off the bed, you scurried into the ensuite to grab the rest of your beauty items to pack. Though you knew where each item was, you took your sweet time, not wanting to hurry back into the bedroom for your friends to continue the current conversation. The vibration of your phone tucked into your front tie top buzzed against your breast. You knew it wasn’t a good thing to keep your phone against your breast, but it was usually always the most convenient place for you.
MSG Lewis: Wheels up at 8 no if, ands, or buts, I’m not even playing, kitten.
You rolled your eyes then tapped out a reply. Before you sent yours another text from him came in.
MSG Lewis: I’m not afraid to leave your ass behind.
“Ha,” you said to yourself.
Opting for a voice reply, you went off.
“Listen you may be fucking eight-time championship holder and feeling yourself hard over this newly long awaited and much deserved title but don’t get it twisted. I am the life of this party, have always been the life of this party, and will always be the life of this party. Just sit there looking pretty and expect me when you see me.”
You made sure all your sass and attitude dripped from every single word, then hit send with a smile on your face as you waited for his no doubt equally sass filled response. Sure, enough about half a minute later you got his reply, a voice one.
“Put some respect on my name and run me my respect. I am an eight-time title holder, and I don’t take anyone’s shit no matter how beautiful they are. Get your fine ass here on time or else, kitten.”
You heard the words he emphasized and the way his voice oozed of authority and control and your belly clenched. Your head went back to the rumors of his Dom kink, and you slumped against the bathroom sink with a sigh. It was just another bit of evidence you had to lock away in the untouchable, unspeakable box of things pretraining to Lewis. The man himself was in this box and definitely classified under untouchable. You listened to the message again and clung to him calling you beautiful and pointing out your fine ass. You sighed again knowing that he would see you taking this long to reply as his victory. The man was competitive in everything.
“Or else what? You know damn well that I’ve got you wrapped around my pinky finger. You ain’t goin nowhere without me and that’s that on that!”
You giggled as you send the voice reply. When you turned, there stood Gisella and Nikki both with snarky “I told you so, you’re caught” looks on their faces.
“Oh the foreplay is very telling,” Nikki said.
You rolled your eyes, grabbing your things and walking back into the bedroom.
“Ugh, whatever. He says he’ll leave us if we’re not on time. So let’s try not to get left ladies.”
You disappeared across the way into your closet determined to finish up everything you still had to do. Thirty minutes later, you were all in the SUV that had been sent for you with your bags loaded in the back finally on your way to the airfield. On the drive you replied to the last emails from your agent and editor ensuring they knew you weren’t going to be too attached to your emails. Their reminders to have the rest of the chapters for your book completed by the time your returned from this trip made you roll your eyes to the back of your head.
They’d been hounding you for these chapters for three months now. Three months of daily “friendly” email remainders, three months of weekly drop ins to check on” your wellbeing, and monthly sit-down meetings that stretched for hours for mapping and plans all centered around this second book that apparently everyone was anticipating. Maybe the anticipation was the reason why you were so reluctant to write it. maybe your stroke of luck with the pen had fizzled, maybe you just weren’t into the idea anymore.
Those were the reasons you gave them when they asked what was taking so long. Those were the PC reasons. You couldn’t very well tell them that your well of inspiration for sex, smut and sultry human connections had dried and caved into the center of the Earth. You couldn’t tell them that you were dry in more ways than one. So instead of exposing yourself in that unfavorable way, you tapped out a very professional response.
Consider it done.
Exiting your emails, you sighed. Hopefully this trip ended up being for more than celebrating Lewis’ 8th title. Perhaps by the end of this vacation you’d come back with a hundred pages of unputdownable content, even if you had to fake it till you made it.
“Why is there such a huge wave of stress coming off of you now?”
“Just my manager and editor on my back again. They worse than Sallie Mae!”
Your friends laughed.
“That’s why you shouldn’t have made that first book so damn good. Now everybody waiting, tapping their feet expecting a slab of gold to drop into their hands,” Gisella said.
“So she should be mediocre?”
“I say just write something. You’ve been dragging your feet for three months. Just give them something and be done with it.”
“I mean that is an option, Nikki added.
“I don’t want to just give something half assed. I wanna feel it and I just haven’t been feeling it no matter how hard I try,” you admitted.
The silence stretched for a few moments before Nikki piped up. “Maybe a change of scenery is what you need. This trip will do you some good. We promise to give you time to write.”
You squeezed her hand as a thank you before you bounced your shoulder into Gisella for the same purpose. They may mess with you mercilessly, but they also had your back to the end.
Miraculously you made it to the airfield with five minutes to spar. The driver unloaded your bags once you got the private jet while the three of you approached the others waiting there. Once Daniel shouted your name, they all turned. You waved at Daniel, his girlfriend Cassie, and Mabdulle, his girlfriend Robin, Miles, and Andrew. They four happily waved back at you but the closer you got you realized there was another person there.
Squinting your eyes, you peered closer behind your dark sunglasses. There stood a slim, brunette with high lights at the ends of her hair giving her the ombre look. She wore tiny shorts and a crop top and knee high sparkly heeled boots. You watched her put her arm around Lewis’ shoulder then scoffed because you immediately knew why she was there. His plaything for the trip.
“Who is that boney girl?”
You snorted at Gisella. She always acted like this was the first time she’d ever seen Lewis’ antics on display.
“She is how I know Iont got Lewis, everyone’s got Lewis. “
Nikki snorted and threw her head back laughing. “This trip is sure going to be interesting.”
“Whatever, she won’t last three days before he’s sent her packing,” Gisella voiced.
“Three days huh?”
Nikki looked as if she were contemplating deeply over those words before she added to the wager. “I give it two.”
You looked between them and shook your head. You were not going to partake in this bet because they both had good odds.
“I see your ass likes playing with fire,” Lewis said holding up his designer gold and diamond watch that you knew had to have cost him half a mil.
“You know I like it when it hurts.”
“Yoooo!”
Daniel spun around in his exaggerated fashion heightening the antics. You loved him dearly. You considered him the best of Lewis’ friends. He always seemed to be genuinely looking out for him and his best interests.
“Bruv, that’s very telling,” Miles added.
You shrugged, “I’m a grown ass woman, not tryna keep no secrets. “Hi, I’m Justice!”
You looked to the beauty because Lewis. She had her hand held out a wide smile on her face and her sunglasses atop her head. no one else spoke and you felt all the eyes on you watching to see what you’d do. You didn’t know what the interest was for. You glanced at Daniel and Cassie who both lifted their brow like the synchronized couple they were while Miles has a Cheshire cat smile on his face looking like that creature in the movie Grimcutty. He clearly was expecting some showdown.
“Hey, I’m Y/N, this is Nikki and Gisella.”
You shook her hand in a pleasant way, your mother didn’t raise no ill-mannered child. Soon after, Nikki and Gisella both shook her hand, but it was done with complete lackluster. They didn’t like her for no other reason than she was coming along.
“Cute glasses,” Justice said pointing to the ones you were wearing.
“LewLewBoo has the same ones.”
LewLewBoo you thought while stifling your amusement. Lewis hated cutesy cutesy nicknames. He wasn’t against a few of them but this one you knew he hated. Lewis nudged Justice as if to say cut it out and she gave him an apologetic look, shrinking back slightly.
“Well, LewLewBoo is always trying to cop my style and be like me what more can we expect from the 8-time champion.”
His smile widened and you couldn’t help but smile back. The two of you squared up neither budging until you both went in for a hug. He lifted you then spun you.
“I am so proud of you again. So proud and so so happy!”
His arms held you off the ground like you didn’t weigh a thing. The tight squeeze gave you ever impression of how strong those arms were.
“Thank you for always being there,” Lewis said so only you could hear.
“Of course. What’re friends for?”
Your eyes locked and you saw how much your actions throughout the season meant to him. You’d been to every weekend, every event. You’d been more than just a friend to him over the last nine months. You’d been a therapist when things went wrong and he was expected to smile through it, a sounding board on different ideas he’d come up with both for racing and his other ventures, alternate strategist when you saw things a little differently than the rest and your vision connected with his, comic when he needed a good laugh about all the bullshit, entertainer when he needed to relieve some stress with a song or some other shit, storyteller when the nights were too much and he needed a soft voice with calming words to soothe the madness inside his head and everything in between. You didn’t mind. That was what friends were for.
“Are we lifting off?”
Mabdulle’s uncertain question filtered between the two of you breaking the moment. When Lewis returned you to your feet, you stepped back securing your sunglasses right back on your nose. The group of you made your way to the jet then piled in. Everyone scattered for their version of the perfect seat. The guys congregated around Lewis while the ladies broke off for their own space.
“Did you hear where we’re going?”
“Where?”
“Don’t tell her shit,” Lewis shouted spinning back to look at the group.
“Come on there is no point in keeping it a secret anymore. I’m here,” you whined.
“Quit your whining girl. You said you’d go anywhere with me and I’m ‘bout to test that shit.”
“Oh god, are we going to Switzerland so you can fuck with me Lewis?”
“I can fuck with you anywhere, girl!”
Your belly flipped from those words, and it was the most unexpected thing that you had no words for a smartass rebuttal. Lewis saw it too and cocked his head to the side as you dropped down into your seat with a perplexed look on your face.
Gisella leaned to your ear and whispered, “I’m jumping on Nikki’s bet, 2 days max cause that was clear flirting.”
You rolled your eyes and did what you did best, faked it till you made it.
“Whatever.”
The flight was as rowdy as it always was when all of you got together. The banter was what you all were known for. At every opportunity you took the bait to clown Miles because he was always coming for you. It wasn’t that you hated him, you just liked to push his buttons, liked to rile him up and tease him mercilessly. Sometimes there was this vibe to him that there was something darker to him that he kept hidden at all costs. Sometimes you saw it though. You’d told Lewis about it, but he wasn’t surprised to hear it. He was a great people reader, and he was always aware of the vibes people gave off.
You were unable to blot Justice out though. She seemed like a nice enough girl to you. An upcoming model, of course, that met Lewis at some fashion event he was at, again of course. She definitely seemed infatuated with him, definitely DTF. You didn’t knock her for that because there was absolutely nothing wrong with being DTF. However, every time she sashayed toward Lewis and sat in his lap to giggle and whisper with him you noted the way your belly rolled like you’d eaten something bad, and it was wrestling you inside. It was interesting and it was something you shoved into the travel bag of untouchable things that you absolutely should stay away from and avoid.
~~~~~
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our decent into our destination. Local time is 4pm. Please buckle your seatbelts and prepare for landing. Thank you for flying today Sir Hamilton.”
You sat up and tried to get a look out the window to get something about where you were, but it was useless, you couldn’t see at all.
MSG Lewis: Don’t worry. Sit back. You’ll love it here. You won’t want to leave in a week.
You glanced across the jet to find him sitting by himself with one leg resting on the other at the ankle. He was leaned back in the seat looking as if he were expecting someone to approach him and give him a lap dance.
MSG: You told me to take three weeks. Where are we going after?
MSG Lewis: You’ll see.
You gave him a death glare then rolled your eyes.
MSG: If I’m stressing about where we’re going this whole time, I’m going to blame you to my editor and manager when I come back with not even a page of the one hundred I’m supposed to have written.
He smiled.
MSG Lewis: Not my fault you’re curious George. One day that curiosity is gonna get you into some shit you can’t get out of.
MSG: Like what sir?
You watched his face morph through different emotions, surprise, interest, confusion then regret. You were slightly fascinated wondering what it was he was thinking. Before he could answer, Justice reached out and squeezed his thigh in a spot that said she was familiar with his body. Again, that feeling in your stomach returned but this one irritated you and you found it was harder to push it into that travel bag.
By the time everyone marched out of the jet, you were more than ready for a drink and a shower. The heat hit you like a low hanging branch to the face. This definitely wasn’t Switzerland. Once all the bags were offloaded, a tall lanky man approached the group.
“Welcome Mr. Hamilton. It is an honor to have you with us. My name is Mosi.”
He had a thick African accent. Your eyes widened. Were you where you wanted to go? If so, how did he know you wanted to come here?
“Thank you for having us, Mosi “Lewis replied.
You tried to keep your giddiness under wraps, but it was incredibly difficult.
“Follow me and my team will gather your luggage.”
A line of four people walked toward the jet while the rest of you followed Mosi. Lewis chatted with him in hushed voices that you couldn’t pick up. You wondered if he was talking so low because of you.
“Why can’t you just let him surprise you?”
You hadn’t even noticed Mabdulle moseying up beside you. You snorted realizing you’d been caught eavesdropping or attempting to.
“I mean I can, I just—want to know.”
He nodded slowly then shook his head. “He’s been planning this for a bit, couldn’t make up his mind where until like a few days ago. Sit back and let him rock.”
You began to wonder if he was so indecisive because of you. Before you even asked, Mabdulle nodded.
“The things we do for friends.”
With that he walked ahead over to Daniel and Cassie leaving you to wonder what he meant by that and why he’d said it the way he did.
After a few more steps, you saw the two charter planes that had paddles attached to the bottom of them. Another clue you said to yourself. You were in Africa and going to land somewhere with water. Everyone split up to load into the two planes. You made sure to get into the plane that Lewis and Justice weren’t getting into. You didn’t want to watch any sort of PDA. Just before Lewis got into the plane you watched he glance around as if searching for something. When his eyes landed on yours you noted the clench of his jaw but before he could make another move Justice called his name in a cutesy whine. You clenched your jaw from annoyance because if this was what you were going to have to listen to this whole trip you were going to jump out this plane without a chute.
Your jaw was dropped, hands pressed to the glass and tongue practically hanging out as you watched the scenery coast by. The turquoise in the ocean called to you, the variation of the shades of greens in the trees complimented it perfectly and you imagined sitting underneath them enjoying a nice breeze and a cocktail. To the horizon the rural lands were such a contrast to the sandy beaches it did nothing but take your breath away. It was perfect. It was everything you’d wanted when you’d seen a random picture and said in passing it was your idea of a perfect vacation. You couldn’t wait to soak it all up.
The plane landed in the ocean and glided its way to a full stop right on the beach and slowly everyone disembarked.
“Wow, this is gorgeous,” Robin said staring out into the water once she was on the sand.
“I can’t wait to get in,” Nikki added.
You were too busy snapping pictures for memories to join in on the conversation. Every shot was even better than the last and every shot had you more and more excited. The breathtaking sunset was the perfect backdrop and opening for what you hoped was going to be a great vacation.
“Welcome to & Beyond, Mozambique’s most popular destination,” Mosi said as he stood to the front of the group with his back to the uber luxurious dwellings on the property.
Your smile was so wide you knew you looked like an idiot. Lewis caught your eye, and he was smiling just as wide as you were. You mouthed “thank you” and gave you a nod while tapping the side of his nose. It was a thing both of you always did to the other to say, “I got you”. It had always been like that. he’d do whatever he could for you no matter what it was you asked for, and you’d do the same. It wasn’t a tit for tat type of thing or favor for favor it was genuine care all the time.
After a quick tour of the massive property that Lewis had taken liberty to rent out completely just so your group could really relax without any eyes, you all split up to lock down your rooms and settle in. The local time was nearing dinner and you were teetering on ravenous thanks to you skipping breakfast and only opting for a small fruit salad on the plane as lunch. Your room was perfect, it faced the ocean and gave you quite the view. You knew it would be the perfect view for any late-night writing sessions. And if this was what you were working with then you were excited to get to it.
You took a shower then plopped onto the floor in your towel to go through your luggage for something to wear for dinner. With your headphones in you went through your choices until you heard the notification sound from your phone. When you glanced down, you found a message from Lewis.
MSG Lewis: I hope you like the room; you got the best view. I hope it helps with your writer’s block.
Realization hit you, he’d planned all of this. He’d chosen this place because of you, given you the room with the best view all in hopes to get your groove back. you could have released an audible “oof” right then and there.
MSG: You didn’t have to do all of this for me.
MSG Lewis: Shut up.
MSG: I’m serious.
MSG Lewis: I like doing things for you. Plus it’s nothing more than all you’ve done for me over the years. WAFF.
The ball of tension in your belly faded and left a sinking feeling. What are friends for. You took a deep breath, held it for a beat, then slowly let it out. It was then you put your phone down and continued what you were doing with your music much higher than before. After a while you managed to put together something cute and just as you were putting on a lite layer of makeup Nikki walked in.
“What’s taking you so long?”
“Perfection takes time.”
“Heeeeeyyy!”
You laughed, bringing your attention back to the mirror to finish your brows.
“Where’s Gisella?”
“Trying to get all the gossip on Justice. She did a dive on IG and found out she’s a model but also an IG—persona. She saw a few pictures of her with a few other celebs and now she is trying to get the tea.”
You nodded, of course she was. Gisella could find out anything about anyone. She was better than TMZ, better than any other gossip blog hands down.
“You don’t seem to care about it though.”
“Why should I care? I’m all good until she proves to be a problem.”
Nikki studied you for a moment. You could feel her eyes boring holes into your back. You were not going to fall for it though. She wanted you to open up but opening up was the last thing you planned on doing on this vacation.
Dinner was amazing, the food on display across the banquet style table was exquisite. Michelin star restaurants in the states could never. Everything you put into your mouth you moaned for, every dish placed before you, you devoured, every flavor that burst over your tastebuds had you rocking in your seat. There was nothing that was off. You tried to keep up with the conversations around you while enjoying the food, but you were sure you missed plenty of useful tidbits.
When dessert came you slowly ate the decadent cake and looked around the table at all your friends. Time together like this was rare. Lewis’ schedule was nuts, and then when you added yours, it was difficult to get everyone together. Across the table, you noticed Lewis doing the same thing. He was probably thinking the same thing you were. When your eyes met, his smile widened. It was soft and inviting, so similar to him. It slipped for a moment and was replaced by a crinkled brow and a screwed jaw. He looked like he was thinking deeply about something. However, the look quickly disappeared. Raising his glass to you, he bopped his head. You returned the gesture and returned your attention to your plate.
After dinner, no one seemed eager to go to bed, instead the drinks rolled out and the stories began. No one was safe from being put on blast, no one was left untouched from some embarrassing story from some point in their life and because of that the laughs never ended. When everyone said their goodbyes, you decided to set yourself up to write. After getting everything ready and setting your atmosphere just the way you wanted you sat down with the view of the soft rolling waves of the ocean as your focal point and a bottle of wine beside you. After taking the time to reread your last written chapter you were half a bottle down in the wine with worries of how you were going to match that steam.
“All right, Y/N, let’s get this down and done.”
You cracked your knuckles then set your hands ready to fly across the keyboard. Twenty minutes later, your screen was empty and your fingers still hovering over the keyboard.
“Shit.”
You grabbed the wine and guzzled the rest then groaned when you realized it was finished. You ventured through the villa to one of the bars and picked out two more bottles. You were determined to get something down. You’d take anything at this point, a sentence, a word. Hell, even a period. Sitting back down, you popped the top of the wine and took a few gulps foregoing the glass sitting to your left. what was the point? This wine tasted a lot stronger than the one you’d just had, and you were grateful for that. With a mouthful of wine, you set yourself for attempt number two.
Like the first attempt, twenty minutes later you had nothing. That led you to finish the second bottle of wine as you talked to yourself about nothing in particular just your failure to do the simplest of tasks. An hour later, the only thing you’d accomplished was finishing the wine you’d gotten from the bar. You were surrounded by the empty bottles that were scattered around the floor while you were sprawled on the bed. You’d abandoned your laptop and was just staring at the ceiling waiting for the wine to put you to sleep. As your eyes lulled closed, you heard muffled moans that sounded as if they were coming from the room beside you. With your eyes wide, you held still waiting to see if you’d imagined it. A few seconds later, they sounded again.
What the hell? You knew either Nikki or Gisella were beside you and you also knew that they couldn’t be busting it down with anyone. Your eyes widened even more than you thought it was Gisella and Mabdulle. You’d always gotten the vibes that they were into each other but wanted to keep it on the low.
“Oh my gosh.”
You sprang up and pressed your ear to the wall like a total creeper. You planned on holding this over her head for the rest of eternity whenever she tried to come for you. It was quiet over there and you didn’t know if you should be thankful or feel bad about it. Someone was not putting in work.
“Just stop.”
You pressed closer hearing that. Stop what?
“I can make you feel good.”
You began to wonder why she was pleading with him. This was not Gisella. She took what she wanted, and you knew for a fact she knew how to have a grown man sounding like a whimpering child. You heard slurping sounds and more muffled moaning then gagging. Other than that, it was silent. This definitely wasn’t Gisella. whoever it was did not know their way around a dick. The silence was very telling. You stifled a laugh because you hoped it was Miles, hoped he’d somehow picked someone up and was getting the worst lackluster head of his life. However, it was not.
“Mmm, Lewis.”
Your smile dropped, your eyed bugged and you made a face of disgust. No fucking way. Lewis took the room beside you. He knew this was the room he’d chosen for you, which meant this was a deliberate choice. What the fuck? Was he fucking with you? Why?
“It's not working, it’s cool.”
“No, let me try some more. What’re you thinking about?”
He sighed. “W-A-F-F.”
At that you pulled away from the wall as if it had turned into lava. What the actual fuck! The slurping and moaning began again but you could tell it was not from Lewis, you could tell that he was completely disinterested. As you listened part of you wanted to laugh because this was just pathetic. Another part of you wanted to melt into the mattress and disappear. You’d never been on this side of things, never overheard his shenanigans, never been the fly on the wall. You didn’t know how to act, much less what to think. Another part of you wanted to kick the wall down and show her how it’s done, but another part that was seeing radioactive green and all you wanted to do was She Hulk smash her ass then Sparta kick her into the ocean telling her to doggy paddle back to the states. Was it a strong reaction? Yes, it was. Did you understand it? Not at all.
So you laid there hearing her failed attempts at making him feel good while letting your thoughts wander on what he meant by saying he was thinking about the code between you, the code he’d said to you several times that day. You knew one thing for certain, tomorrow you were changing your room.
PT 2 Coming....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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#a long time coming duo 1#a long time coming one shot#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton fanfiction#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton x black reader#black fanfiction#slow burn fanfic#f1 fanfic
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Gimme that GOOD shit girlie 💅✨ (Starstruck x Galacta knight)
✧˖°. give up what you love,
before it does you in .°˖✧
#my art#🎀💖#🎀🔍#cw flashing#cw eyestrain#everybody say thank you elias for having the guts to shoot this sniper shot into my inbox 0.2 seconds after i announced the shipaganza#genuinely shocked that no one else sent this in bc i have been Called Out On This One by many folks so i'm guessing it's no surprise!#ANYWAY......#e.......enjoy.#despite the fact that this was the first prompt i received it took me a long time to respond to it bc i needed to do it Right#i drafted many ideas and even struck out on several completed comics that i did then decided were Not For Right Now#i feel like i did pretty good in the end? i have the still images as well and i might post those separate later!#thank you to this album for coming to my rescue. perfect lyrics in this track and even more so in another. you can probably guess#will anybody notice if i don't answer the regular question... will anyone notice. can i slide this under the radar? let's find out.#galacta knight#starstruck dee
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Illicit Toasts // 1920s!Nanami Kento x F!Reader
Summary: The prohibition of alcohol didn't stop people from getting their hands on it. It only made them find places where they could get their fill of giggle water in illicit establishments filled with booze, music, and social life. For Nanami Kento, however, alcohol was merely an excuse to visit this speakeasy. Yet, he did go to that place to get his high on something, someone else.
Word Count: ~5.1k
CW: 1920s AU (focused on the prohibition era), fem!reader, singer!reader, strangers to lovers (kinda), fluff (kinda), pining kento, mentions of alcohol, alternate between 3rd person and 2nd person.
A/N: first, you can find the artist of the fanart here! second, there is no doubt in my man that my man would look amazing in the 1920s aesthetic, look at him. i was thinking about this for a while and the covers from the postmodern jukebox helped. am i thinking about writing more about this AU? maybe, especially if people are into it. 1920s! Nanami Kento, you will always be famous.
Just what was he doing here? Coming back and pretending it was just for some booze that he could easily stash at home with the promise of some quietness and privacy?
Nanami didn’t know the answer. As he puts his wallet into his coat, he tries to think of one with no avail. He didn’t know why his feet kept walking towards that damned speakeasy as if it were a part of his routine. It felt as if his body got the best of him despite his mind telling him it was a bad idea to come to a place like this as someone of his reputation.
He was wealthy, had a nice job, a status that put him high on everyone’s list on his appearance alone. He felt like he was risking it all by just coming here. Nanami had the means to contact a bootlegger and get that alcohol he used as an excuse to come here. A bar that could get raided at any moment and put him in jail by just being there. It would be his ruin if that were to happen.
No money.
No job.
No status.
But despite it all, he still walked towards that door. Knock. Knock, knock. Knock. Knock. A pattern he memorized the first time he came here when a friend of his implored him to accompany him for a drink. Little did he know back then how much he would play this rhythm against the rusty door with a dimly lit room behind it, full of chatter, drinks, and entertainment for those who were willing to risk it.
Funny thing is that, though Nanami is a heavy drinker, he is a loner at that. Those extravagant parties held by people of his status were too luxurious for his taste, he only attended them to keep his connections intact and for the promise of booze. He much prefers to drink in the comfort of his own home. No superficial conversations. No drunks trying to flirt with him or overstep his boundaries. But to drink for the joy of it rather than to survive the event.
He was about to turn around after questioning why he kept coming here when the door opened, a voice greeting him into the bar. It reeked of the smell of old wood, strong liquor, the dreaded tobacco smoke, and the light colognes and perfumes mixing together as they escaped out the door and into his nostrils. It was a last warning. Though he was still standing at the foot of the door, he could still change his mind and leave to get his fill back home. The unique smell reminded him not only of what awaited him if he entered but also brought a sense of tension. Was all this secrecy and feeling of rebellion against a law that prohibited some fun worth everything he worked so hard for?
But that warning fell on deaf ears. Ears that were busy welcoming the real reason he was coming back in the first place. It was not the alcohol, it was never the reason why his body walked the streets until he reached this door. It wasn’t a taste or a smell. It was a sound and a sight.
It was the pretty singer who held her own against the band and rose above the chatter as more than mere background noise to fill the air.
You.
He still remembers the first time he saw you on that stage. He could barely understand what his friend was talking about when they brought him here. He was busy looking at you and hearing the pretty voice that captured his attention the moment he walked in. You didn’t seem to mind the fact that people were too caught up in their own conversations or the delightful buzz their whiskey and bourbon brought instead of hearing the music. But to him, it was the complete opposite. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, take you off your mind nights after seeing you for the first time. You brought him a high no liquor had brought before and you don’t even speak to him. You were just doing your job, a living by singing in this dimly lit bar full of patrons breaking the law. You were the star of this speakeasy.
Tonight was no different.
Your voice stood out from the chatter that filled the room, dripping in a silky passion that lured him into stepping in and taking a seat at the bar. It was obvious you weren’t performing for anyone but yourself. The way you sang each song, each lyric, was intoxicating to Nanami. It was like a spell that drew him in further into this attraction he felt for you. It was always such a raw performance he could only describe as passionate and immersive. He could hear how you felt every emotion from your voice alone. Vulnerable, intense, alluring. To think he could list everything he heard in your voice would be an impossible challenge he would gladly take.
But your looks came along and he knew it was over. Your performance was more than just your voice, but also the way you moved. You were a temptress, sensuality in its purest form. Swaying side to side at the rhythm of the keys and strings, almost as if your hips marked the tempo for everyone to follow. But you were more than that. It wouldn’t be fair to see you as sex-on-a-stick that others had reduced you to. Not when you had this bright and cheerful smile on your face every time he saw you on that stage. Or when you did these little gimmicks with your gloved-covered hands that always captured his attention as you acted the lyrics. One thing was certain: the way you looked and performed told him you were having the time of your life up there.
He could see it in your face alone. Your face, your angel face that told him how much fun you had when singing. It was as if you were one with the music and wanted to keep it that way. Showing each and every emotion of the song as if you wrote it yourself. Dancing and acting as if no one was watching. He admired that. It drew him into you. Authenticity was written all over you, displaying so many parts of you and showing this energy of yours that made you much more complex than anyone in his class.
There was no doubt. You were a performer through and through.
But to him, you were this enchantress. Seduction follows your every move and sound. You looked so confident, so comfortable on that stage surrounded by liquor and smoke that others were so distracted by, missing the real deal. The straight loose dresses you wore with fringes and beads that moved with you, the pearls that added an elegant touch, the gloves that covered your skin, the t-strap shoes that clicked with every step, and that makeup that wrapped everything together.
You looked like a doll, shining in the spotlight and surrounded by this lively and strong aura he couldn’t help but be attracted to. So addicting like the glasses of whiskey he drank, but much sweeter.
As another number came to a close, you bowed at the audience. Even if you didn’t receive much applause, you didn’t care. You know what comes with being an entertainer at these places: barely any recognition and a lot of cons such as getting arrested for even being here. But you loved it. The ambiance was calm, nothing too crowded or loud to keep the place safe from a police raid; the lights added a sense of secrecy and sensuality that you were all in for, and the best of all, the pay. Jobs like this were hard to come by, those that paid you to do what you liked.
Even if your day job brought you a lot of tension and stress, it was this gig that allowed you to shake those feelings off and let loose. Shine like the way you were supposed to, be treated like a person and not a number or some airhead. Sure, you were often shaken off as part of the background of a rebellious experience that people were quiet about. But it was tit-for-tat—go through hell by day and live the crème de la crème at night. No family to control you, no boss to scold you for no reason, and no judgemental looks for not being a mother or married.
You looked back at your band, clapping at them for their performance so far with a bright smile. You quickly excuse yourself, asking them to play a few songs without you as you go and fetch yourself something to drink. All this smoke made your throat dry, which was a no-no for a performer like you.
Making your way to the bar and asking for a light drink—the bartender’s choice being a bee’s knees—you notice a blond man with his elbow resting on the bar. You looked at him, instantly seeing the signs that he was of a higher class than the usual patrons. Tailor-made suit in a pristine condition fitting him perfectly, the material looking expensive from how soft it looked alone. Handsome face free of facial hair, his skin probably as smooth as one can be, something not many had the privilege of due to tight schedules or lack of resources.
The drink was a dead giveaway. From the looks of it, it seemed to be whiskey neat. Most people opted for the much cheaper beer, not for something like whiskey. Let alone neat and not on the rocks. It told you it was someone who had the privilege of drinking enough to be able to handle the harshness of it and its expensive price.
Not only that, but the drink seemed unattended as told by the way his hands were further enough from the glass. People normally downed their drinks if they were alone, the lack of another glass near him told you he was probably on his own tonight. But no. He didn’t seem in a rush to drink or be accompanied by someone. He was alone at a bar with a drink he hadn’t sipped from during the alcohol prohibition. What are the odds?
You think of starting a conversation with the man, intrigued about him, when the bartender handed you your drink. You smiled at them, thanking them for their service as you took the glass by their stem and brought it to your lips. Honey, lemon, and most importantly, gin invade your mouth as you taste the forbidden drink. Sure, alcohol isn’t the best thing to drink when performing a set, but it’s not like a sip once in a while hurt. Especially with how hard it is to get these drinks when one doesn’t have the means, working at a speakeasy seemed like a blessing.
Your thoughts are interrupted before you set the glass down, the blond at your side snapping you out of them with his velvet voice. It was a few words, but they were enough to detect a certain elegance that matched his appearance. Modesty and opulence easily summarize your impression of the man before you.
“Your performance was lovely.” He said nonchalantly, turning his body to face you as his hand wrapped around the glass of whiskey.
It’s not like people didn’t compliment your singing. They did…once they were drunk or when they were seeking attention. But compliments from someone who looked like him? Sure, he sounded casual about it and it almost made you think he was being sarcastic. But when you turn to look at him, ready to give him your usual “you can give it a go if you want” answer, you see that he was being genuine. He was waiting for a response patiently, his thumb caressing the side of his glass. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite place, it seemed like nerves but there was no reason to feel like such.
You flash him a small smile, nodding your hand towards him. “Thank you, I’m sure it would’ve paired so well with your drink. Shame that it seems unattended.”
He looked at you puzzled, looking down at the drink in question before turning back to you. “I was not aware that one could pair alcohol with performances. Especially with everything going on right now.”
“Then you’re missing quite the opportunity. Neat whiskey? Jazz and blues pair up well with it, which is our set for tonight. You’re lucky the band is still playing as we speak, you can still enjoy the combination of taste and sound.” You smile, looking back at the band and then back at him.
He wastes no time to take in your silence as an invitation to try the multi-sensorial experience. You see him swirl the liquid in the glass, the piano and trombone standing out from the band of instruments, and then taking a sip as he lets the alcohol wash over his mouth to savor it.
He chuckles, his brows jumping once in delight as turns back to you. You raise your eyebrow, now waiting for his response.
“My first thought when pairing alcohol is usually food. I’m afraid I’ll have to start thinking about what I will be doing when drinking a certain drink.” He says, his eyes showing that delight when he turns to you.
“Hopefully you keep that idea long after you leave this place. It’s quite fun to pair things with others we haven’t thought of before.”
“Really? Is your drink especially paired with your performance tonight?”
You look down at your own drink, taking it into your hand and bringing it to your lips for a small sip. You nod at the taste, the fresh taste of gin swirling on your tongue while the smooth run of the trombone plays in your ears.
“Absolutely.” You say with a small chuckle.
The man before you decides to stand up, pushing the stool back as he does. He turns his body to face you completely, a soft and calm expression decorating his face as he looks at you in what could only be curiosity. But this one is different from the curious looks you usually get. It’s not perverse or mere amusement. It’s as if he’s finally living a moment he thought of for a while, a moment he thought would never happen. It’s different and unexpected, sure, but it’s new. His expression almost leaves you breathless, now becoming curious as well.
He extends his hand to you, his eyes never leaving your face as a blink-it-and-you’ll-miss-it smile decorates his. Though others would think his expression is firm and stoic, his eyes tell you otherwise just like his voice does. That velvet voice of his drips from his lips once more.
“Kento Nanami. May I ask for your name, miss?”
Your name sounds just like the melodies you are so used to singing on the stage. It is a smooth and harmonious sound that goes easy on his ears when you say it. He couldn’t fight the smile on his face for long, showing it for a second as he felt you reach out to his hand and shake it. It was only for a second, but it was enough to know how dangerous you were becoming to him.
With your hand on his, he turns it around and kisses the back of it like the gentleman he is. It’s soft and gentle, not wanting to come off strong as if you’re only an object to him. You weren’t and he wanted to treat you with the respect you deserved. Nanami’s lips soon leave your gloved-covered hand but his hand still holds you carefully, looking up at you with gentle calm eyes.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He says, sure that if he were to say your name it wouldn’t sound so angelic like you say it. He drops your hand near your lap, careful to not be so harsh the moment he lets it go.
Shaking him up like this with only your name? He never planned for you to have this effect on him, let alone this quickly. He never thought he would be drinking next to you, finally having a name for that gorgeous smile that shined on the stage. He didn’t think life would be able to bring you two together even if it was for a few minutes.
Your voice was as pretty when speaking as it was when singing, the sound of your name sounding like every other night you performed on that stage. He couldn’t help but repeat it out, lucky enough to play it off as if he was just checking if he heard you right. That in itself was an irony considering all the trouble he went through every night he wanted to hear you sing.
And now he was hearing you speak to him.
The band playing as the rest of the speakeasy melted away and it was only you in his view and ears. You were an arm’s away from him and it was a chance he had to take, at least to compliment your performance. Not just of tonight’s but of every night, even if he wasn’t there to hear it. Soon that compliment led to small talk that then led to presenting each other. Now here he was, immersed in the casual conversation between you two.
No stocks, no gossip, no work. Just chit-chat in which he didn’t need alcohol to push through it like he does at big events at work or with people he’s forced to spend time with. It was talking for the pleasure of it. Something an introvert like him found reserved for certain people. But here you were, able to sneak past that detail of his and put him at ease despite all the giddiness he feels inside him from finally being able to speak to you.
You didn’t seem that much different off-stage. You were lively, charming, and able to hold your ground. But you were also much calmer, casual, reserved even; though not to the extent he is. It simply confirmed to him that you were a hundred percent yourself when you were performing, authentic to yourself even if you weren’t showing all parts of yourself. You still had that welcoming energy in and out of the stage.
Your body was facing his just like he was facing yours as you two sat at the bar with your drinks. He was finally taking sips of that ignored whiskey long after he ordered it while you had allowed him to take up your small break. It wasn’t the most interesting conversation in the world, to be frank. But if any of his friends saw him at the moment, they would know Nanami was hanging onto every word you said.
“I’m more of a hermit.” He starts, setting his drink down at the bar. “I do drink with friends and explore these speakeasies, but I much rather enjoy a drink in the comfort of my home.”
“Oh, so you’re able to afford that luxury of owning alcohol?” You smirk at him, tilting your head towards him. You sigh, relaxing your shoulders with your hands on your lap. “Although, I understand. I get overwhelmed in crowded places and would drink privately if I could.”
“Overwhelmed? A singer?” He raises an eyebrow at you. He wasn’t teasing you or being sarcastic by any means. He knows it could come off that way, but he was intrigued. You seemed comfortable when you sang, dancing around as you became one with the music and the world disappeared.
“It’s different!” You laughed softly, bringing your glass to your lips. “I like singing and people don’t really come to these places looking for music. They come for this.” You gestured to the wall stocked with all kinds of liquor, a quantity that could lead everyone working at the establishment to be imprisoned. It’s a wonder the police haven't found this place, neither of you would be here at the moment conversing. “I am just part of the experience but not the main attraction. That lets me act like there’s no one around.”
Nanami nods. Though he completely comes to this bar for the opposite reason, he can see how it is easy for you to shake off the nerves and get behind the microphone. If you were only a prop that added to the illicit and almost seducing ambiance for people to drink in, then you could let loose and not many people would remember it. That and because some drank to the point of blackout.
“I see, not much of a people’s people, are you?”
You shrug your shoulders, pursing your lips. “I like the stage, I like to perform. I don’t mind people, but sometimes it can be too much to have all that…energy at all times.”
Nanami chuckles, knowing that feeling too well. Sure, he wasn’t a performer like you. But he had to deal with numerous people at work, at social events, and in his everyday life. Be polite, never turn down a conversation too quickly, talk about the work he hated, pass time with people who only saw him as a walking wallet or an eye candy, and live up to his status’ expectations…he was much more comfortable with his privacy.
“I understand. Guess it’s part of work, is it not?”
You nod, a sympathetic smile coming to your face as you bring your drink close to your lips. “Part of life to be honest.” But before you take a sip, you knit your eyebrows as you look down at it. You turn your attention back to Nanami, lifting your drink in the air with a much more genuine smile, and say, “Cheers, for being able to hold up for this long.”
He feels the same giddy feeling from earlier creep up to him again, shaking them off as he takes his glass and clinks it with yours gently. He cheered for other things all the time. This shouldn’t be any different just like giving a compliment to a stranger.
Maybe it is because this time is much more genuine than all those times he had to tolerate rather than celebrate.
“Cheers then.” He hums. Pulling the glass back and lightly raising it towards you, he savors the strong earthy notes of his whiskey. He has tasted this flavor before many times, but tonight, the bitterness felt much less overpowering thanks to your presence.
Much to his disappointment, the moment is cut short when your head turns towards the stage. He looks in the same direction, the cello player throwing his head back to signal you that you need to come back for the next set of songs. You sigh, slowly standing up from your seat with the drink still in hand.
“Duty calls.” You hum, looking at Nanami with a gentle smile. “This was fun. Maybe you should start sitting closer to the band rather than being all the way here.”
Nanami knits his brows, confused and intrigued by your insinuations. Before he can ask about what you mean, you quickly jump in to clarify it yourself.
“I get on that stage almost every night, I would be a poor performer if I didn’t recognize my audience.” You take a last sip of your drink, placing it on the bar for the bartender to take it away as you thank them with a smile.
Nanami feels his heart race. He didn’t know he had come so much to the point that you recognized his face. He thought he would pass unnoticed on each of his visits, becoming a wallflower that no one would interact with but the bartender. Looks like he was wrong. You of all people noticed him.
He takes a quiet deep breath to calm his speeding heart, his face facing you completely. It could be the whiskey talking, the liquid courage guiding this whole interaction that he thought would never happen otherwise, but he decided to take the chance and say.
“I’ll make sure to get the best seat.”
“I’ll make sure to save it for you.” You answered back, a soft chuckle escaping you.
You take a few steps away from your seat, slower than when you were coming from the stage to the bar. You then turn your head to look back at Nanami, hands coming together in front of you.
“You should get gin if you come next week. We’ll play swing and I find the combination quite wonderful.”
Nanami hums, the smallest of smiles escaping his stoic front as he looks at your polite and fairly demure behavior. He notices the ways your eyes grow shy as you wait for his response, understanding that it is an invitation to come next week.
“I’ll get gin then.” He assures you, his heart beating quite hard now despite the tranquil effect whiskey always has on him.
You smile. A bright smile that could have brightened this dim speakeasy on its own. You nod as you add, “Thank you for the chat, Mr. Nanami. Don’t be a stranger, please.”
And with that, you turn back to the band, a light pep on your step as evident by the way your dress’ fringes jump.
Nanami turns back to the bar, looking down at the empty glass before him and then at the glass you were drinking from. He sees the bartender take both away and asks them for another glass of whiskey as jazz begins to play again.
His feet once more guide him to you, walking through alleyways and empty streets long after the sun had set down with the moon and stars keeping him company. His mind is much quieter this time than the last, now aware that logical questions and should-statements were impractical to ask when it came to this new habit of his.
As he walked on the street that had the downward stairs that guided him to the seemingly unsuspicious door in the neighborhood, he was greeted with the sight of a few police officers who appeared to be heading to the same place as him. They were quite the number and Nanami knew what it meant. The warning that his heart was sending through his veins caused his steps to speed up to the policemen, gulping any sight of uneasiness down before he spoke up.
“Gentlemen, evening.” He bowed his head at them, his tone ever so neutral at this moment as if this were just another negotiation he did every day at work.
The men turn to him, inspecting his appearance before saying a thing. They bow back at Nanami with one of the policemen taking a step forward to him and taking out his badge for him to see.
“Evening, sir. I’ll have to ask you to evacuate the area, we’ve received reports of illicit production and sale of alcohol in this area and we will enforce the law on everyone at the establishment. A law-bidding civilian like yourself should save the trouble of witnessing such enforcement.” He warns, acting all high and mighty with Nanami as if they hadn’t met before.
Nanami takes a step forward to the policeman, digging out his wallet and pulling out a couple of bills that he then keeps in his hand. He smiles politely at the man.
“Officer, I appreciate the warning. I am afraid that there are no such activities in this area. I want to save you the trouble of wasting your time so you can be able to enjoy your evening as well. After all, there is no issue with enjoying yourself, is there not?”
Nanami reaches for the man’s hand, pretending to shake his hand as he places the money in the palm of his hand. To anyone walking by, this is just a citizen thanking and warning the law. To them, it is just business.
The officer smiles at Nanami, hypocrisy slipping through in the smell of cheap beer as he nods. He turns to the rest of the policemen, telling them that they got false input and that they should just head to their usual patrol around the north side of the city. The men bid farewell to Nanami, silently thanking him.
Nanami sighs once they are gone, leaning against the staircase fence. They were the same officers as last week, he isn’t stupid. The condescending tone alone told him that much. He is lucky he has a good job. Otherwise, he would have to buy cheaper alcohol if he kept using his money to bribe the cops away from there.
After a few minutes, Nanami walks down the stairs to the door that would’ve been busted open had it not been for him. Knock. Knock, knock. Knock. Knock. The pattern that is now ingrained in his body makes his heart race in anticipation. He walks in, almost sitting by the bar as he remembers your words from last time when he sees an empty seat for one closer to the band. You weren’t kidding last time…
Nanami walks towards the said seat, still a bit further from the stage since it is set by the wall. But as he sits, he notices there’s a reason why you specifically save this spot. He notices you recognize him, your smile beaming while you’re performing the swing set you mentioned last week. It was a clear and unconstrained view of the singer. No chairs in the way, no paths that others could take that would block the view for either of you, and no light that shone too brightly on either of you that would make it seem as if you were just a flash of light. It truly was the best seat.
But what made it better was the fact that you kept looking at him during your act, catching each other’s eyes without a doubt in mind that it was him you were looking at. No one else.
His heart races, more than it has ever before at this speakeasy. It wasn’t the thrill of drinking his negroni that contained the gin that was so prohibited at the time. It wasn’t bribing the law and breaking it. It wasn’t the girls that looked at him and tried to flirt with him. None of that made his heart race and the drink wasn’t helping ease that feeling down.
As he realizes the reason for his heart practically beating out of his chest that it would have run out of this bar from the sheer force, he looks at you. You, you, and only you as you swirl your pearls around your finger with a soft hum for everyone to hear. Maybe you were just, if not more addicting than the giddy water he drinks.
Nevertheless, there was one important difference. He can quit the booze, but not you.
#FINALLY#it took me a long time to come up with this one#i kinda wanna write more from this au#but not like a full on fic you know#like loosely tied together one shots type of deal#we'll see#illicit toasts 🥂#nanami kento#kento nanami#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami x reader#nanami kento x y/n#kento nanami x y/n#nanami kento x you#kento nanami x you#nanami kento fluff#kento nanami fluff#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujutsu nanami#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman
part one | part two
#me when everybody is posting the maple leafs sad narratives and i am furiously generating this like HOLD ONNNN HOLD ONNNNNNN#honestly i could've been SOOOO MEAN about this because i saw this poem & alexandra got the preview on the poetry blog#where i just reblogged the first half of this poem point blank with the tags#kyle dubas#toronto maple leafs#& got yelled at aksdaksf & it literally only didn't go on this blog bc i usually write more & then it was percolating & i looked up the poe#& it was only the FIRST PART i'd reblogged i didn't know there was more & then brain immediately went brrrrr ok time for an edit.#this is a long one lol & i also have no idea if it makes sense to anybody but me but because y'all know me i will always overexplain so!!#my reasoning for the reasons obvi kyle. that's a given i hope he's doing well i hope he & his family r good but man is not coming in to wor#the second edit took me a stupid amount of time bc i am nitpicky but also i learned how to do the layers & transparency from the claude edi#that actually y'all don't know about lmao but i lost my mind when i saw how perfectly those pictures align i was scrolling getty & was like#ok december i'm gonna do a headline one (in my brain with the november/june quote about choosing to die again) w/ maple leafs playoff odds#how they say at winter break you know who's gonna be in the playoffs & who'll win & they thought they had a shot but it's mitchie overlaid#the 2003-04 team who'd last won a playoff round with the atlantic division stats from dec for 22-23 & how long it's been & dec headlines#i wanted breakup/recent/never loved to be a recent trade acquisition somebody who bounced around & somebody else so i almost had simmer#brodie & zar but then i wanted to make murray for breakup at any time &i forgot zar & him were on the pens together &it hit me like a truc#bc there's a photo of the two of them EXACTLY the same so close it's scary of this one but them as pens so they had to be it & i did always#know never loved again was mitchie. sorry. also mitchie in the penalty box the last game but i couldn't find footage of it & this one works#no i could not find a photo of tyler bertuzzi fighting a leaf for a dog looked at me yes i tried.#i almost made the bunting photo jt but instead it's 'bunting a rat etc' anyway the one i really feel unhinged about is dead pets bc at firs#i was gonna make it the handshake line & look to see if the leafs had drafted anybody on the panthers (dead pet former draft pick)#& they had & it was carter verhaeghe & i couldn't get a good pic of matthews & verhaeghe but it's fine bc i thought about the mo/luke schen#narrative (in which they are a perfect d pair long lost) & schenn was drafted by the leafs & that line fits jut trust me. also how i feel#about the kniesy luminous line that one possessed me it had to be kniesy idk why. i almost put gussy as girls are too pretty though ALSO#did u like my joke. daylight SAVINGS time on the goalie. thank u. also my photo magic on the jt (me very poorly editing in him as an isle)#OK ALSO HOLD ONNNNN there is a part two but i have to wait for the Content i want it will come out as soon as [redacted] or sooner#if i get bad at waiting &everyone will pretend like it is always the way it will be once i have the photos i want. speaking of did the leaf#simply not take a team photo this year?? it Does Not Exist for me i have tried very hard to look for it also i'm excited for part 2#one of them is named oh you're so unhinged for this one & the finished product is you're unhinged in ways you didn't even know u were sorry#liv in the replies
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"I forgive you."
It came out like a blood clot—like an artery dripping gore—like an oil spill. Crowley felt his shoulders rise, fall, fall, fall. The air between them hummed, the tension of six thousand years turning every atom electrified and silently screaming.
Breath shuddered out of him, human and terrible and hollowing. He had never been more grateful for the swallowing darkness of his glasses, for the way they hid the centuries of pre-emptive grief and wicked terror. The air was suffocating, the once familiar bookshop turned catacomb.
And then, hating himself for it but seeing no other way forward, he spoke the words aloud.
"Don't bother".
And then he was out in the middle of Soho and the breeze was harsh against his too-warm skin. Stepping out into the sun felt like rising to the surface of some great ocean—the gasping, desperate feeling in his lungs, the sudden crash of noise. A woman across the street called for her wife. A car horn. A dog barking. Laughter, cruel and far-off. He pulled breath into lungs that didn't need it, winced as he felt slivers of cold drive into the soft flesh of his throat.
So that was it; five and a half million years of want and need and burning, aching somedays, cyphered pleas for "our side". All gone in the space between shaking half-breaths and a kiss still seared against his lips.
Fuck it.
He'd ruined it the first time, had forced them both to look directly into the sun, to face the thing they'd been dancing around for the better part of six millennia. He could do better—would do better.
At a music café some years ago, a human had been playing the piano—something soft and slow. A jazz number, if the demon remembered correctly. But the remarkable thing wasn’t the song itself, but that they were playing it with their eyes closed. Aziraphale had pointed this fact out to Crowley, excitement lilting in his voice (even then, the sound had thrilled him, sent a stab of warmth through his heart). It was only after the final note reverberated through the room that the artist opened their eyes, blinking in the sudden rush of stage lights. Aziraphale, ever the music connoisseur, approached the musician. The pianist had explained that, for them, reading music never came easy. Rather, they learned by touch, by the way the keys felt on their fingertips. In fact, the only way they could play a song was with their eyes closed. If they watched their hands as they played or thought too hard about their next move, they got confused and tripped over the notes. Muscle memory, they’d said.
It was muscle memory—the galactic familiarity of finding the space between seconds and prying—that guided Crowley now. He hadn’t done it since Not-Armageddon, but it came easily to him just the same. Time, you see, operates kind of like sound, like music; it loops and sways and carries forward in waves. If you know where to look (as the demon did), you can disrupt the flow, send it back towards the shore.
And this was what Crowley did now. Drawing his hands through the ripples of minutes and seconds and hours and millennia, time stilled around him. It was natural. Easy, like breathing or sleeping. Or loving Aziraphale.
Slowly, the world turned backwards; humans retreating from whence they came, cars driving in reverse, the wind blowing in the opposite direction. If Heaven had taken notice of their "half-a-miracle", Crowley expected them to be able to see this from every edge of the universe. He likely only had one shot at this.
The world aligned itself once more, and time returned to its regular, steady gait—a rubber band snapping back into place. Something hummed in Crowley’s chest. Something bright and burning and the shape of a neutron star.
Hands shaking, he reached for the handle of the bookshop and pushed. The bell above the door rang, clear and and too-loud in the morning air.
Aziraphale whirled around, a trembling half-smile on his face. Oh. Oh, somebody, this was going to be harder than he thought. It felt like all the oxygen, all the courage, had been punched clear out of him
"Crowley!"
A beat, a shuddering breath. "Angel". He pressed his still-trembling hands into his pockets and strode forward.
"Oh, Crowley, dear, I've been looking for you. I have excellent news."
His stomach did a little flip, something deep within him growing hollow and fearful. "We have to talk," he managed to choke out around the heart still lodged in his throat.
"Yes, I quite think we do. I have something to tell you." Aziraphale strode forward, all grins and beauty like a flickering star, all plasma and heat. He could practically feel the agitated warmth roll off of his angel. Crowley shivered. "I just met with the Meta—”
"No. Wait," the demon held up a hand, pausing the rushing torrent of Aziraphale’s words. "Just let me say my thing, please."
"My dear boy, just—oh, what is that lovely human expression—"
"Hold that thought," Crowley muttered. His eyes burned behind his glasses. Aziraphale looked pleasantly taken aback.
"Yes, how did you know? I—"
"No."
The angel's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "No?"
"No," he repeated, enunciating each letter with perfect clarity. He was going to do it right this time. He was going to keep him from leaving. He could be good. Right? "I’m gonna speak, and I want you to listen to me without interrupting, m'kay?" Words were building in the basin of his sternum now, pushing up on his airways. He was going to have to say it outright this time; no more waltzing around this frenzied galaxy of emotion. Willing his hands to steadiness, he pulled his glasses from his face, and tucked them into the collar of his shirt.
Aziraphale's breath seemed to catch for a moment, meeting the ferocity of the demon's gaze head-on. A deer in headlights. And then, "Crowley, I really—"
(Eons hurtled through his mind in a split second, the serrated knife's-edge of want like a being all its own. Aziraphale in the garden. Aziraphale in the tavern, on the cliffside, on the West End stage, in the Bentley, in the bookshop, in the very marrow of Crowley’s bones.)
"I love you," he rasped, ichor writhing in his veins.
There, he'd said it., said it fully and completely, without so much as flinching. It was the same love he'd expressed for the past several thousand years in a million little, unspoken ways: an ox rib, a revolution, a church, a burning bookshop and the bottom of a glass and a lost best friend. A yellow Bentley, a lifetime of tethering his life to Aziraphale's, of trailing after him like a moth to flame—like a dog to its owner.
"I love you," he pushed on. They were both looking directly into the sun again, Crowley urging them to stare straight into the heat of it all. The words were spilling out of him now, a heaving, thrashing current falling to the bookshop's hardwood floors. "I love you and you can't go to Heaven."
Aziraphale froze, pupils blown wide and unblinking, for just a moment. Tension stretched out like a thread between them. And then he pulled in breath like a drowning man (who wasn't really a man at all), and tears were gathering in the corner of his eyes, and oh god, he'd made his angel cry.
Fear and guilt and horror slammed into him at a million kilometers an hour and left him halfway between dizzy and nauseous. His fingers tensed at his side, desperate to do something, fix what he'd so obviously broken. Heaven would be on the front step any moment. It was too late, wasn't it? It was always too late.
"Crowley—what?" Aziraphale breathed, mouth twisting into a brutal, terrible, heart-wrenching sob. Crowley ached, panic lancing through him like a knife. "I—I really, I can't. You could come with me." He stepped forward, moving to place his hands on the demon's shoulders.
Crowley leaned into the touch, almost unconsciously. "Don't go," he croaked, tears beginning to prick his own eyes once again. This time he didn't reach for his glasses, didn't try to hide his fear. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. And then Aziraphale could hate him and his desperate, hungry, reverent love in the aftermath. "Don't go where I can't follow. Please".
His angels blue-grey eyes searched his own, and the weight of his gaze was impossibly heavy, pressing down on his chest like a river-smoothed rock.
"Crowley, please. I don't understand. The Metatron said—" His palms found the sides of Crowley's throat, thumbs resting gently on the side of his jaw.
Crowley sucked in a breath. "Angel," The scent of earl grey—of old books and soft tartan chairs. Aziraphale's hands were shaking. "I know what the Metatron said," he intoned, soft as rainfall. "You can't go. It's not—they won't change. You're better than that."
"But you could be an angel. With me," he murmured, soft thumbs running across sharp cheekbones. "Be my second-in-command."
"Don't want to be. Want t' be an us," he felt tears—traitorous, burning tears tip over the edge of his lashes and fall against his face.
"Crowley, darling, please." A beat. "I love you."
The bottom of the world dropped out from under him in that moment. Aziraphale loved him. He loved him and he'd said it aloud and now it was out there in the world and it was as though every nerve on his body was on fire.
His angel pushed on, "Truly, I love you. I need you with me. Please, come with me. We can do good, I know it."
He could never say no when his angel asked something of him. Especially not when his kind, gentle hands were holding him like something good, something precious. Especially not when Aziraphale had just admitted to needing him, had injected the word with so much warmth he thought his all-too-human heart might beat clear out of his chest.
But there was a first (technically, second) time for everything.
He drew in a heavy breath, and tilted his head, breaking his angel's hold on him. Aziraphale's hands—now empty, still shook. He made a soft whimpering sound, and Crowley ached to kiss his fingertips, banish the fear. But instead, he looked up towards the ceiling, to a God who was not there—who maybe had never been there at all. He felt the Heavenly Host drawing near, a sense of hollow emptiness, the scent of absence. This was the time of last-ditch efforts, of holding his heart out and hoping Aziraphale might take it as it was, bruised spots and all.
"I can't. I won't. I need to be here, on Earth, with you."
"Crowley, please. I don't think you understand what I'm offering you," he huffed.
A residual shard of anger stabbed at him then, and he turned his gaze sharply back to the angel before him. "Oh, I understand perfectly well, angel. I'm fairly certain I understand better than you do."
Aziraphale's mouth drew into a thin line, tears welling fresh in his eyes again. And still, Crowley ached.
A beat. Something in the angel shifted, then, turned on its edge—the walls beginning to go up again, and it was just like it had been not fifteen minutes ago. He was watching the same moment play out over and over again; some cyclical, torrential nightmare.
"I would like you to come with me, but," Aziraphale paused, voice breaking in the middle. "But I'm leaving, with or without you."
And there it was, like it was predestined. Despite the love, despite the want, despite every shared bottle passed between them, every half-accidental touch and glance and whispered word—despite the way he would’ve let Aziraphale run a sword through his chest...
It wasn't enough. It was never enough.
They were re-enacting their old magic trick, right there in the bookshop, this time with Crowley staring down the barrel, letting Aziraphale pull the trigger. Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear. Aziraphale wasn't shooting past his ear. His bloody ribcage felt as though it might splinter apart.
Wingbeats in the distance, a grief wide enough to drown the sea. Crowley reached down, pulled his sunglasses from their resting spot against his clavicle. And then the hunger in his eyes was once more hidden, and he was walking towards the door like a man headed to execution.
"Crowley—" Aziraphale nearly keened, the wall crumbling for a split second.
Without turning, Crowley said the only words he could think of.
"I forgive you."
#did i steal some lines from one of my own fanfics??? yes. yes i did#because im tired and i don't want to come up with more metaphors for time warping rn. so hush <3#good omens fanfiction#good omens angst#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 300 WORDS LONG#FUCK I FUCKED UP IM DEHYDRATED AND IM SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING AN ESSAY WHAT THE FUCK#idek what this is i literally have not edited one tiny little bit of this. i just came up with everything as i went along so i apologize#ignore the fact that the dialogue/pacing/ideas diverge from canon shhhhhh im too tired to look at source material#ehhh dunno how i feel ab this but whatever here's something (???)#take a shot every time i say chest or heart or ache or tremble#good omens#crowley#ineffable husbands#good omens 2#aziraphale#aziracrow#go2#ineffable lovers#ineffable wives#good omens season 2#crowley angst#final fifteen#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x arizaphale#david tennant#michael sheen#ineffable divorce#good omens fic#good omens fanfic#gomens
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Kinnporsche x textposts pt. 9 [more]
#kinnporsche#kinnporsche memes#myedit#long time no meme!#i feel like theres so much potential in the textposts ive gathered i just need to rewatch the whole thing probably to find the right shots#ANYWAY#pls tell me you get the chimps one#and if it inspires you to fill in the missing bit that comes after (any artistic vision applies) i will be your enthusiastic audience#tay world domination when#kptp:mine#kpts#kp
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Your analyses are the best. They are so fun to read and I over think everything afterwarrs
Thank you!
For analyses above my level, I highly recommend checking out these if you haven't already read them:
The two chapters of Kei Toda's Reading The Promised Neverland with a British/American Literature Scholar (2020) that have been translated into English by fans (Chapter 2: Religion by @thathilomgirl & @0hana0fubuki0 | Chapter 3: Gender by @1000sunnygo)
Anime Feminist's "Emma’s Choice: The gender-norm nightmare at the heart of The Promised Neverland" article (2018) (good follow-up to Toda's chapter on gender)
Jackson P. Brown's "Thoughts on… The Promised Neverland, and Black Women in Manga" (2018) blog post and Zeria's video essay/blog post (2019) on Krone's depiction
Jairus Taylor's "The Unfulfilled Potential of The Promised Neverland Anime" (2021) which made me more open to the idea of a remake of S1
For tumblr posts (some of these I'm linking through my blog because I either had a minor link addition or think the OP's/prev's tags deserve to be seen and rebloggable, but you can just click through to the original post):
@puff-poff's exploration of the demon world's culture (Part 1 & Part 2)
@just-like-playing-tag's examination of the farm system, Emma character analysis launched by a minute change in S2e02, and mini-Isabella analysis regarding her treatment of Ray (along with her blog just being a wealth of knowledge in general)
@hylialeia's post on the series' handling of Norman's plan/the oppressed and oppressors
@avadescent's analysis of the S2 ED album art (Norman and Emma are perpendicular; Emma and Ray are parallel.)
@linkspooky has a lot of analyses from when the series was running but special mention to this analysis of Norman's character
@vobomon also has a lot but special mention to her Norman is autistic and Norman has PTSD posts
@goldiipond's "Ray is autistic" essay
@emmaspolaroid with some of the best Emma and Emma & Isabella meta in general
@nullaby's post on Isabella and Ray's relationship
#The Promised Neverland#Yakusoku no Neverland#YnN#TPN#TPN Meta#Character Analysis#FSS Chatter#FSS Asks#TPN Krone#Sister Krone#Kei Toda#Reading The Promised Neverland with a British/American Literature Scholar#definitely forgetting some but these are the ones that first come to mind and I could easily find again#there's also some fanfics out there that are so foundational to me for my interpretations of the characters#(𝐵𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝐹𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠‚ 𝐵𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 my beloved <3; along with bsa's and sae's works and others)#but this is already a bit of reading#also probably a number of discussions on TPNtwt that I'm missing out on but I fucking abhor the format for long-form discussion#even with thread unrollers#Sunny idk if it's just my browser but I think some of the pic links on your blogspot are breaking </3#if you take a shot for every time I mention on this blog how I still can't believe the S2 ED album art is real you'll get alcohol poisoning
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surprise art attack!!! here’s @deityofhearts ‘s cashmere, everyone’s favorite whimsical tiefling
#pose taken directly from the kikuomiku4 album cover bc i’ve been listening to UFO on repeat for idk how many days now#finally gave me the inspiration i needed to do something like this it’s like both sad and super whimsical#actually tbh it gives me more wishful vibes now that i think about it but 1. idk what wishful looks like and 2. cashmere design my beloved#kikuo just in general has a lot of whimsysad and/or fundark which is why i love him#tbh ufo has quickly shot up to one of my fave songs it’s the iconic accordion and the tempo being unstable in places#uh anyway ignore me being a kikuo nerd again#wahhh this was fun to work on it has consumed me these past three days#jumping up and down hehehehehe#glad i finally cut to the ‘it’s done *collapses*’ stage of the arting process bc i’ve been having trouble finishing pieces lately#man i WISH i could come up with poses this good on my own. idc i’m still proud of this#my art#ok yeah i just got the time total. 12 hours#i knew it would be a long time but i didn’t think that long#tbh a lot of that was spent inefficiently bc i kept having to resize the image up when i realized the pixels were too crunchy#and when you make an image bigger the lines get blurry so then you have to redo them. yeah i had to do that TWICE. like a dummy.#12 hours used to be like par for the course for me but i’ve finally gotten faster. or maybe i’ve just stopped doing as many full figures#lol
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damn... kinda mad i didn't die in my dream last night... could've added another method to the list
#all that 'oh god im gonna die' dream stress for Nothing smh#got stabbed... i mean it was kinda my own damn fault but also was it? was it.#it was absolutely fault when the blade had to be removed but yk. didnt die so it was whatever#shaking a fist at last night's dream like COWARD!!!#what was Interesting though was upon waking up#i was still kinda dozing and i held my position#and i was very careful moving as to not jostle the knife. Not Realizing Yet. that that was a dream and was now awake#there is no knife in ba sing se#but damn. gnarly#usually i dont have to go through the whole 'coming to terms with my imminent demise' in these sort'a dreams#its typically Fast#the longest dream-death ive ever had was that one where i got shot#but even that wasnt That long#its just that the others are usually immediate. and non-wound based#absolutely unprompted#sorry to dream post but Hey tumblr blog is my personal diary. To Me <3#its weird tho that this is the second time ive had a death or death-adjacent dream#where i woke up convinced that it was Real#knife wound.... legit asking myself if im dead after another... fun stuff!#these dreams are very interesting. in a morbid way i enjoy them
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Whumptober 2022 - Head Trauma
| “His mother never wanted him to fly, not after what happened to his father.”
#whumptober2022#top gun maverick#top gun#bradley rooster bradshaw#fanart#forsty art#VAGUELY BASED ON THE PROMPT HAHA#i've actually.. had this idea for a long ass time#Rooster holding Goose's helmet and it's cracked up (because it is cracked in the OG movie) and I think about that alot#also the background cause I gotta mention it - it's nothing too fancy but one side is the forest where Mav and Rooster meet up after#being shot down#and the other side is the ocean.... cause Goose.... you know#shrugs#ALSO YEAH I KNOW GOOSE DIDNT DIE FROM HEAD TRAUMA i think it was a broken neck but this is my art and i make the rules!#it's finally released into the wild.... i can return to being a normal person now#until tuesday for the next whumptober drawing#thank you everyone for coming on this journey with me i hope i dont disappoint and that you all will like it :c <3
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tiny PSA for trolls fanfic writers who are making (or have made) the move from wattpad to AO3
referring to your fics as "books" is a dead giveaway that you came from wattpad
#its not inherently a bad thing. i personally find it kind of endearing#but wattpad does have a bit of a reputation#and so some readers might avoid your fics if they can tell theyre crossposted / that you're fresh from wattpad#ao3 users just refer to their stories as fics; one-shots (if there arent multiple chapters; or ficlets (<1k words i believe)#trolls#dreamworks trolls#trolls band together#trolls fanfic#anyway ive come across it a couple times now & every time ive been like. should i say something? LMAO#it is ultimately harmless though & if you prefer to call your fics books. by all means go for it#as long as you dont try to actually publish them as books without getting a legal opinion. bc copyright infringement and all that#joon talks
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losers playing ttrpgs... losers playing ttrpgs save me...
mike is running a multi-year homebrew ttrpg campaign that is basically just a combination of any rulebook the losers can get their hands on + anything they come up with. i know it to be true. the campaign started as a call of cuthulu campaign but it is now a terrifying mix of call of cuthulu, dungeons & dragons, and cyberpunk with elements from a dozen other games including star wars: the roleplaying game, warhammer, harnmaster and somehow alma mater(??? idk how. but i know this happened). richie was like. "mike man, i love you forever, you're great at this. but why don't i have magic powers?" and he pointed at ben's collection of d&d rulebooks he'd been browsing through and he sounded so earnest and excited that mike knew in that moment he was going to sacrifice the integrity of his cool mystery campaign so richie could cast vicious mockery (99% sure vicious mockery didn't exist yet... don't quote me on that but it doesn't matter because the idea of richie using it constantly is hilarious)
they've all been playing the same characters for years and they keep convincing mike to add more stuff so they're all like super powerful and mike keeps having to come up with more and more powerful enemies.
mike's dice collection is so so so cool he has so many dice, and whenever he introduces a new important character he goes out and gets dice that fit their theme and it is such a moneysink but it's worth it because ooooh pretty dice
after four occasions where the losers decided to adopt a random npc mike hadn't planned anything for, mike has started planning every single npc out down to the specifics of their childhood education. he has endless character sheets hanging out in his room with characters he's created that populate his game world.
okay hanbrough agenda time: bill is the most oblivious guy in the entire world. i know this. (he is the guy who looks at brokeback mountain and goes "what do you mean it was gay? why can't men be friends anymore?" this is based on that one passage at the beginning of the book where he goes on one of those "why can't the curtains just be blue because they're fucking blue" rants lol. he does not know what media literacy is. to me) and mike is. increasingly frustrated and feels like he's losing his mind. he is like head in hands because he asked bill to go to prom with him and bill was like "yeah sure man! sounds great, you're my bestie forever!", and he has no idea what to do, because how is this man this dense, so he just starts having all of his NPCs fall head over heels for bill's character and flirt like madmen. it is painful for everyone involved. except bill. who still has no idea what is going on. that is a very unfortunate month.
mike and ben hang out a lot and ben helps mike brainstorm for the campaign so ben has all this insider knowledge and mike will just look at him before something insane happens in the campaign. they'll like make eye contact and ben will be like holy shit holy shit holy shit :0 and mike just drops some insane new lore. it's very special to me.
#i know it might be like. why isn't ben or bill GM? they're the writers!#but like. idk it just fits. watching mike in it chapter 2 gave me so much unhinged GM energy#that man can spin a TALE. i know it. i also know he can improvise like crazy#they finish a session and he's like. btw guys everything after like the first hour was improvised i hope it didn't feel to awkward#and the losers are like... wdym you didn't perfectly plan all of that?????#bill could not run a campaign to save his life. he does not know what chekhov's gun is. he does not know what nuance is.#he would be trying to run a campaign and the losers would do ANYTHING even slightly off the hyperspecific plan he made#and he'd start trying to railroad everyone and everyones just getting increasingly stressed#basically it would be a bad time#that man can't do improv i know it in my heart#ben on the other hand is a massive ttrpg nerd and has run multiple one shots with the losers#he's not big into long campaigns like mike is but he loves coming up with new campaign ideas#he also collects ttrpg rulebooks and is always looking for weird ones to try out with his friends <3#they all have so much fun doing character creation with ben too. it's great.#i'm not done with this btw. i have so much more to say#i love ttrpgs and a party is the highest level of friendship. this is true#my high school best friends were literally just my d&d party#and cyberpunk (the ttrpg) is how i made friends in college lol#posts afflicted with a strange sickness#it stephen king#it 2019#it 2017#mike hanlon#bill denbrough#ben hanscom#hanbrough#richie tozier
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I want Matt and Andrew to become good friends after the girls graduate.
I believe that they end up living together after Andrew joins his team in the pros. When Neil visits, Matt nopes out of there for a night or two and comes back for Bestie Night (where the three hang out, but it’s mostly Matt and Neil being friends)
Just. Matt joining The Monsters™️ his last year and becoming Andrew’s bestie. Like that’s his best friend’s partner, by association, they should be besties. Best friend in law. It just makes sense.
#no but I actually wrote this#I wrote a little one shot of Matt and andrew being on a team together and neil comes to visit andrew#like the one shot has been in my docs for sooo long it’s ready to go#I just need to proofread it one more time and then it’s ready to go#I may write a part two for bestie night tho it’s not there but I might add that eventually#aftg#neil josten#andrew minyard#all for the game#andreil#matt boyd
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S4 Victims: Story by Proxy?
Okay so. In spitballing with Em...something stuck in my head.
So we all know how serial killers leave crumbs because deep down they want to be caught/want the truth to be revealed? Well what if the Duffers, or even current Henry, are doing the same thing. That is, leaving breadcrumbs.
This mainly has to do with the S4 victims, their stories, and the order in which they're chosen.
So, it goes like this:
Chrissy: Abusive mother who resembles Virginia
Fred: Eaten alive by the guilt of being responsible for the accidental death of an innocent.
Max: Suicidal over guilt about Billy's death and her response to it. Billy, who died saving her/while she was saving herself from the Fleshflayer, a regenerated form of the Mindflayer.
Patrick: Abusive father, not much else told.
Max (again): Suicidal Ideation, dies, soul taken, but was revived by El. She's now in some limbo-state, where her body lives but her identity/mind is elsewhere. She will likely be brought back entirely by El in S5.
It almost feels like a story by proxy if we piece it together.
So, let's piece it together:
Person with an abusive mother...feels responsible for the death of an innocent...a sibling who was killed while this person was trying to save themselves from a monster which came from Hawkins lab, which leaves them suicidal...and this person lives in a situation with an abusive father figure. This person becomes suicidal, and their suicide attempt was not entirely successful. They were revived by El, and end up in a limbo state. They may or may not be brought back by El later.
Now, let's collect details about our serial killer:
Abusive mother? Check. (No matter how we frame it, Virginia was not a good mother.)
Innocent died? Check. (Henry has nothing bad to say about Alice, which we know he would if she were not innocent, since he does this with every other victim.)
Sibling died as a result of saving oneself? Check. (The Creel massacre was a situation where Henry was, with whatever intentions we may assign for the other family members' deaths, trying to save himself from Virginia and by extension the lab.)
Ended up with an abusive father figure? Check. (Well...an abusive Papa, one might say.)
Brought back by El multiple times? Check. (El was the one who took Soteria out and brought Henry back from being powerless. El was the one who put Henry in the UD/limbo state. El was the one who opened the gate for his return to the RSU.)
IT ALL ALIGNS. So let's put it together with all the feelings involved:
Citations (I guess? Explanations?) are in the tags listed by number!
Henry had an abusive mother who was at least trying to have him shipped off to the lab, if not actually trying to kill him outright. This situation builds and builds, him wanting to be left alone (1), putting out subconscious and conscious cries for help (2), and her targeting him about it, until March 25th, 1959.
Virginia starts it, attacks, and this time she's out for blood (3). Henry defends himself (4). Virginia, being the parent with powers (5), doesn't actually die (6). Victor, Alice, and Henry go for the door (7). Virginia's on the stairs (8). She's got to finish what she started, since her original plan was botched (9). Henry puts his energy into trancing Victor (10), protecting him from Virginia, since logically two people can't occupy one person's mind.
This leaves good, innocent Alice to fend for herself, standing directly in front of the staircase. She's a loose end (11). Virginia kills her, but can't kill Henry or Victor while the trance is occurring. She figures Henry's going to run himself into the ground (12). She figures she can call Brenner in to collect Henry, like they planned (13). If she disappears, she figures it'll go into the news something like this:
"World War II veteran kills entire family in deranged fit of insanity. Wife missing, presumed dead. Son dies in hospital."
And on both counts, she's essentially right. It does basically go into the papers that way. Victor is taken in for murder, and Henry is taken by Brenner, but not before he sees that Alice was caught in the crossfire (14).
Henry ends up with Brenner, the abusive Papa. He's got the guilt about Alice's death, something that makes him sad and angry. Brenner, maybe, decides to push this in order to increase Henry's powers, but it backfires. Henry's powers increase, but he does...something. He lashes out, he snaps, maybe he even tries to kill himself. He's Brenner's prized pet, though, so Brenner can't let that happen. He seals Henry's powers away with Soteria. It's a death for Henry's entire identity, so far as to have him under the name Peter Ballard. Then comes along 011. She removes Soteria from Peter Ballard...and revives Henry Creel. She then exiles him to the Upside Down in 1979, only to eventually bring him back in 1983 when she opens the Mothergate.
All this to say: It could be his own story, told through the stories of his victims.
Breadcrumbs, or maybe...obvious things, which nobody by any chance ever observes.
Below the cut is where I speculate into motivations for his actions after Soteria's removal, so...not required reading for this particular analysis.
Years of MKUltra torture warp Henry's guilt about the situation into a bastardized, violent, brutal, unethical savior complex based in the notion that he's a predator by nature, but a predator for good. He "saves" the lab kids from a future like his own, filled with nothing but torture. He "saves" El from her ignorance about the lab and intended to have her join him, thereby attempting to "save" her, technically his little sister, from the lab entirely.
He "saves" his s4 victims from their guilt and suffering, which so closely mirror his own, which no one saved him from. I could even go so far as to say he was "saving" Will, who is set up to be so much like him, from a world of horrible people who (from Henry's viewpoint based on his lived experiences) would only serve to abuse and betray him.
This of course isn't to say any of it is right. None of it is right or good...but it makes sense. It follows a pattern. It coheres. The math...maths.
#Citations!#1: Henry often hides alone in the attic.#2: Victor's burning cradle vison (a child in need of help). The drawing of the Shadow Monster. Possibly Alice's nightmares.#2 (cont.): Can all be interpreted as calls for help. Children in distress act out and make disturbing art in hope of conveying that need.#3: Virginia may or may not have been trying to kill Henry but based on the Fleshflayer parallel re: sibling death...it's probable.#4: Henry himself describes that night as self defense/being forced to act.#5: Virginia likely had powers given that Henry has powers#6: Her powers are likely similar to Henry's and Henry has regenerative powers. There are also fishy scenes of her death which imply#6 (cont.): that she may have still been alive. These include: shots from her POV. The fact that her eyes are bloody--#6 (cont.): but still intact in some shots. The unexplained POV from the top of the stairs.#7: Henry looks very nervous and fidgety at the door like he's antsy to leave with Alice and Victor#8: Again the unexplained POV on the stairs...stairs she earlier runs down after Henry gives her her mirror moment in the bathroom.#9: Henry was successful in disabling her initially which exposed her culpability.#10: Henry puts *so* much time into Victor in canon with basically no explanation why.#11: Alice seems to be a smart and upstanding girl. She might not be controllable re: Virginia being alive/the whole scheme with Brenner.#11 (cont.): The only way to eliminate that risk is to kill her...and we've already seen that Virginia is not good to at least one child.#12: If Virginia has powers like Henry's she likely has a sense of how long someone can be tranced before the trancer runs out of energy.#13: Who called Brenner to come get Henry during his coma? How did Henry end up in Brenner's hands specifically?#14: amerion-main's recent post re: Henry's position change in the foyer shots#End Citations!#This is all very much speculation when it comes to the actual path of events re: the Creel Massacre#but we can all agree that we don't have the full story about the Creels yet...so who knows.#henry/vecna/001#henry creel analysis#henry creel#virginia creel#creel family#stranger things#stranger things analysis
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Fireflies
Proving that he didn't kill his dad, or at least assist in his assassination proves to be a difficult task for Benthomaar, and with a public quickly turning violent, he decides that retreating into hiding is his best option at the moment. Luckily the ninja have a great secluded contact to send him to. ~2800 words
Vania hesitated a moment before knocking on the door. She knew this was going to be a difficult situation to navigate. She wanted to talk to him, she wanted to lend an ear, but she didn’t know if he would want to talk at all. After all, he had only just arrived this morning, and he certainly had a lot to process. Circumstances were grim, but there wasn’t much point in letting him wallow in it. Regardless, she had come prepared… with cookies. Everyone could always use a cookie.
It was only a few seconds after she knocked before Benthomaar answered the door. “Oh! Queen Vania! I didn’t-”
“No, it’s nothing,” she waved it off. “I just brought you some fresh baked cookies!” She smiled, raising up the plate she held.
She was met with a largely blank stare and a slow nod. “Of course, come in.” He welcomed her inside, his figure turned around before she had even made it through the frame. Vania carefully stepped inside, closing the door behind herself. “I’m sorry I haven’t had much of a presence.” He plopped down on the edge of his bed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been… a bit out of sorts.” His gaze was distracted, his mind obviously not entirely present.
“You don’t need to apologize. You’ve been through a lot.” Not knowing quite what to do with the cookies, she continued to hold them in the least awkward way she could manage. “I’m honestly surprised you’re as composed as you are.” I suppose death threats and assassination attempts are somewhat expected for royalty, but she had never had to deal with it before.
“It's just…” he paused, his eyes stuck in the middle distance. “A lot to consider. I’m not even sure I’ve processed that I’m here yet.”
Struggling still to land a connection, she turned to her life preserver. “You know, the cookies really are best when they’re warm.”
He finally snapped out of his daze, a soft smile finally gracing his lips. “Right.” He took the plate, grabbing a cookie from the pile and taking a bite. His face exploded in surprise, his eyes growing wide. “You weren’t kidding! These are delicious!”
Vania chuckled. The cookies had worked.
“Here, you want one?” He offered one to her.
“Oh, no.” Vania shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“You said it yourself, they’re best when they’re warm.” He grinned before taking another bite.
She took the bait, sitting down next to him, and gladly munching on the snack. “They really are.”
“Well, thank you for being so accommodating on such short notice,” Benthomaar set the plate down on the bed between them, the tension now significantly broken.
“Of course!” Vania shrugged. “Any friend of the ninja is a friend of mine.”
“You all are close?”
“We are!” Vania smiled, genuinely excited by the thought. “I honestly can’t believe it sometimes.”
“Really?” Benthomaar laughed.
“Yeah, I idolized them like crazy before I met them! You know, I had the biggest celebrity crush on Cole.”
“You don’t say?” Benthomaar’s eyes narrowed as he took another bite of his cookie.
“Yeah, and he’s great,” Vania mused. “A lot different than I imagined, but it still boggles my mind that we’re as good of friends as we are.”
“Well, I’m glad they were able to put in a good word for me.”
“Sure, I’m glad to have you.” Vania smiled, her eyes shifting down as the mood in the room once again sunk. “It sucks that you have to be here in the first place though.”
Benthomaar sighed, reaching for another cookie. “Well, it is difficult to rule people who want nothing to do with you.” He broke the cookie in half, defeated.
“It’s so ridiculous! I mean, you risked your life trying to defend your kingdom, and yet you get labeled a traitor!”
“Well, it’s complicated. There isn’t any real evidence of what happened to my father. Only the sudden appearance of outsiders right before his death, and my siding with them.”
“The ninja could testify, right? They saw what happened. And some of them are robots, you could compel them to tell the truth!”
“People just don’t trust it. They’re wary of the technology. It comes from surface dwellers.” His words sounded rehearsed, as if he’d gone over this talking point dozens of times now.
Vania took another bite of her cookie, sitting in thought for a moment. “You know, I have an excellent magic consultant. I know he’s produced visions before. I could ask if he might be able to summon one of the past.”
Benthomaar’s eyes perked up. “That… could be helpful.”
“Well, I can certainly look into it,” she smiled.
“I appreciate it,” he nodded, his mind again wandering far from this room.
Vania studied his expression, still hoping to make a connection. “What do you miss most about it?”
Benthomaar again looked up, a smile sneaking onto his face as he pondered. “It’s going to sound terribly obvious.”
“Shoot,” Vania shrugged.
He drew in a breath, still a bit hesitant. “Everything here is so much… drier.”
Vania chuckled. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
“I mean it!” he insisted. “Even just the air, when you’re used to high humidity, is so noticeable! And it’s all around you, all the time.”
“Well, maybe we should bring up a humidifier for you!” Vania giggled.
“Really?” he asked.
“Sure, I don’t see why not.”
“That would be nice,” he sighed, quickly jolting back up. “Not that you haven’t been plenty accommodating already, I mean this room is fantastic.”
“Oh, it’s definitely the best of the guest rooms,” Vania agreed. “Have you seen the view out of your balcony?!” Vania jumped up excitedly.
“Just out the window from here-” Benthomaar muttered.
Vania picked up the plate of cookies, already headed for the doors. “You’ve gotta see it!” Her feet had already taken her halfway across the room before Benthomaar had found the ability to stand.
She threw open the doors to the cooled air of the night, placing the cookies down on the small dining set which lived on the balcony.
“It really is the best view in the castle!” she boasted. “Of course, you can see everything a little better by day, but right below us are the palace gardens, and a little further out you can see the east tower-”
She continued as Benthomaar took his first steps outside, his eyes instantly drawn upwards.
“Of course, you can see the palace gates, and the guard houses.” She leaned over the balcony, craning her neck to stretch her sightline along the castle’s wall. “And if you lean far enough out, you can even see my room!” She smiled, finally turning back to see her guest.
Benthomaar had also made it to the railing, his weight comfortably resting upon it as his gaze still sat firmly above, his expression in awe. Vania felt a bit foolish at her ramblings now. He had already found the best feature of the view.
“There’s so many of them,” he marveled, his voice almost a whisper.
She smiled at his wonder, joining him as her eyes too turned upward. “When I was little, I thought that once I got my wings, I’d be able to fly up to the stars, and catch one in between my hands like a firefly.”
“Firefly?” Benthomaar asked, eyes still stuck on the vast expanse above him.
“Have you never seen fireflies before?” Vania asked.
“I can’t say I have.” Benthomaar shook his head.
“Well, I’ll have to show you sometime,” Vania decided.
“They seem so close from up here. They’re so much brighter,” Benthomaar sighed.
“I wouldn’t really know,” Vania shrugged. “I’ve never seen them from anywhere else.”
Benthomaar’s eyes finally strayed from the sky back to his companion. “I don’t know why you don’t just spend all your time out here.”
“I wish I could,” she giggled. “But you know, I’ve got stuff to do. Kingdom to run. Not much time for stargazing.” Her tone dropped in tone as she spoke, the weight of her responsibilities obviously sneaking into her mind.
“Is the new job hard on you?” Benthomaar asked.
“Not as hard as it’s been on you,” Vania noted. “But it’s been a lot. The whole kingdom pretty much doubled in population, so just working out relocation and basic distribution of resources has been difficult. Not to mention trying to work around cultural differences and pre-existing social grudges.” Vania turned away from the railing, her image now facing the castle. “On top of that, a vital source of income for the kingdom is now a complete non-starter, meaning our economy is mostly shot, and trying to get any sort of outside revenue back is difficult, because our kingdom has historically been incredibly reclusive, so it’s not exactly like we have great connections to lean back on. And between the complete social upheaval and the broken economy I just… don’t know what I’m doing!” her eyes had fallen to the ground as the strain became more evident in her voice. “I was nowhere close to completing my training, I wasn’t supposed to be doing anything like this for years, let alone be thrown in at the deep end like this, and I just… I can’t do it! I’m not mentally capable! I’m not-”
Vania sighed, her eyes finally returning to Benthomaar.
“I’m not my dad, you know?”
Vania pushed off from the railing, Benthomaar’s vision following her as she left for the table instead, quickly melting into one of the seats and staring at the cookie plate.
Benthomaar was quiet for a moment, adjusting to the shift in the conversation.
“Have you…” he hesitated, unsure if it was wise to take the topic where his mind had gone. “Have you talked to him at all? After he was put away?”
He studied her as her body shrank inwards ever so slightly.
“You don’t have to answer if it’s not-”
“No, it’s okay,” Vania interjected. “I, um…” her eyes glanced over at him. “I haven’t spoken with him at all since the incident.”
Benthomaar fully leaned back against the railing, pondering her answer. “You know, I’ve been thinking about all the things I would want to tell my brother, if he had made it through the battle.” His eyes wandered as he thought, caught again in the middle distance they had been stuck in through most of the day. “All the things I’d want to confront him with, prove to him, scream at him. All these words that I have caught up in my head that don’t have anywhere to go anymore.” His eyes finally stabilized on Vania again. “But if he were still here, and I were given the chance to talk to him… I don’t know if I could actually do it.”
Vania sat up a bit, her eyes now lost. “You know, I’ve thought about it,” she admitted. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I was trapped with that man my whole life. He was putting on a facade for me my entire life. Everything that I thought was love and affection was this twisted other thing. He was the most important person in my entire world, and he was never really there. And that does things to you when you realize. And you keep on making realizations, for weeks, months afterwards, how thoroughly every piece of what you thought was your life is a lie, and you’re forced to just sit there and watch as it all disintegrates. It breaks you.”
The two now faced each other, their eyes locked. “I have so much I want to say to him. But when someone’s in your head that deeply, when someone’s been able to hurt you that much, the idea of opening up that line of communication again, even one way, is… terrifying.” Her voice shrunk as she continued. “Because even just admitting to them that you’re still thinking about them, in any capacity, it lets them back inside your head.”
The air between them sat unmovable as the tension reached its peak. “My father adopted me after I was abandoned by my birth parents,” Benthomaar started. “He was the only one who really ever cared for me, and he died in my arms. Kalmaar knew me best of anyone else, and he’s gone, and now even my own people don’t want me.” Vania could see a gloss begin to envelop his eyes. “I’ve never felt so completely alone in my whole life. So, to cut ties with anyone at this point… seems like such an impossible idea to me.”
His eyes had wandered to the ground by now, but Vania’s impulses took her upward. “You’ve got me.” She stood, rather suddenly.
Benthomaar’s eyes glanced up, a bit confused. “What?”
Vania reached back to the table, picking up a cookie as she strode forward.
“You’ve got me.” She held out the cookie to her puzzled companion now just inches from her, his hand, hesitantly moving forward to accept it. “Maybe I don’t know you very well yet, but I certainly know what you’re going through. I’ve lost and been betrayed by people I love. I’ve been saddled with an insane amount of royal responsibility at very short notice. I’ve been through a life altering piece of trauma before being thrust into an unreasonable amount of stress.” His hand had taken the cookie, but his mind was so fixed on her sudden burst of confidence that its presence was now an afterthought. “And I know it’s tough, but I’ve been through the first bit of this, and I’m here for you. And for the rest of it, we can figure it out together, which is a whole heck of a lot better than trying to figure it out alone. So, please don’t think that you’re alone, because I won’t let another person go through what I’m going through by themselves if I can help it.”
Benthommar stared at her with a gaze he hadn’t felt leave his eyes in a while. It seemed impossible to look away from the woman who had so quickly come to defend him from his own downward spiral. There was a pure sense of hope that filled him for the first time in days now. Vania shrunk back in a moment of realization. “If you want me. I don’t mean to be imposing, you don’t really know me.” She shook her head, her arms crossing over her chest.
“No,” Benthomaar stopped her. “I feel like I do,” he pressed. “Well enough anyway.”
His gaze softened her demeanor, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Well, I’m glad I could earn your trust so quickly.”
“For the record, I think Shintaro is very lucky to have a leader as charming, kind, confident,” Benthomaar found the list of adjectives coming to him quicker than he could speak them. “brave, welcoming, honest, thoughtful, and beautiful as you.” Their eyes remained connected, trapped together in a trance which seemed unbreakable. A slight blush crept onto Vania’s cheeks accompanied by a feeling she had never quite felt before.
Benthomaar was snapped out of the daze as he realized what exactly he had just said.
“And such a wonderful baker!” he added, lifting the cookie still in his hand. He quickly took a bite, attempting to mask his nerves.
The chill of the night air filled the space between them as the two darted their eyes away from one another.
“Right!” Vania chuckled. “I do a lot of baking when I’m stressed, so I’ve gotten a lot of practice lately.”
“Anyway, I should probably let you get some rest,” Vania started. “It’s getting late, and I’m sure you’re probably exhausted.”
“Yes, of course,” Benthomaar sighed.
“But…” Vania’s eyes again found contact with Benthomaar’s. “Maybe I’ll see you for breakfast?”
“I’d like that.” He nodded slowly, his voice soft and gentle.
Their eyes remained connected a moment longer before Vania began to turn. “Well, goodnight. Sleep well.”
“You too,” Benthomaar returned as she approached the balcony doorway. “And,” he blurted out, his impulses stepping him forward.
She turned around in the door frame eager to hear him, her hands latching onto the divider in the middle. “Yes?”
Benthomaar’s lips parted, still a bit hesitant. “Thank you… for everything. It feels really good to smile again.”
Vania could sense the longing within his words, and feel her heart reach out in equal measure. “Of course.”
There was an unspoken pulse of understanding passed between them before Vania slowly turned, making her way out. Benthomaar’s eyes trailed her exit for a moment before he once more faced the balcony, his gaze turning upward. His mind was caught in a fog of feeling which he wasn’t eager to leave. There was a unique air of enchantment around him that he could only attribute to her. As his eyes danced across the stars, he found himself with a new impulse, imagining what it might be like to cup one in his hands, to hold that great a light so close to him. He smiled, his mind now wildly curious.
“...Fireflies.”
#my goodness this one has been a long time coming#ninjago benthomaar#ninjago vania#raincloudshipping#writing#one shot?#idk I've got ideas#none of them are fully formed though#ninjago
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So I know that a lot has been said about Sabo being a Replacement Ace, and there have been comparisons between Law and Nami (or Law and Robin (and I even saw Law as just a different flavor of Mihawk once, rawr)), but I would like to propose for the internet’s consideration: Law as a Replacement Ace.
Tall, dark, and handsome? Check.
Super-overpowered Devil Fruit? Check.
Tattoos? Check.
Delightfully allergic to shirts? Check.
Fun hat? Check.
“Why the fck is this adult man putting up with Luffy?” Check.
Secret name? Check.
Shipped with Nami, Zoro, Sanji, and Luffy with varying success rates? Check.
Survived the torching of their home? Check.
Broody little shit who surrounded himself with delightful loonies after leaving home? Check.
Fucked over by the WG? Check. Multiple times? Double-check.
Entire existence very specifically irritates Sengoku? Check.
Offered Warlord status? Check.
Adopted by a Very Tall Man? Check.
After living with a bunch of weirdos who love in their own way I guess? Check.
Adventures with the Straw Hats, featuring Smoker and Tashigi? Check.
An adventure that was a side-quest before toppling a Warlord unjustly ruling a hot-climate kingdom? Check.
Got into a fight with Blackbeard while I was in the middle of writing fic with them as semi-to-major players? CHECK.
In conclusion, these two men from polar opposite Blues share a lot of the same beats and I dig it. Except pls one of you two needs to stay safe and we only have one option left. I mean, there’s so many characters in this series that it’s highly unlikely one won’t start seeing some patterns, but you know... it’s just neat to notice.
Now Luffy just needs to learn what happened in ch.1081 and snap into Friend Protecc Mode.
#Trafalgar Law#Portgas D. Ace#One Piece#allusions to ch.1081#I remembered today that Ace used to be one of my Unnecessarily Sexy Faves like seventeen years ago#and now Law is one of my Unnecessarily Sexy Faves and that shot of his hat makes me uncomfortable#come on Oda-sensei it's so rare I like inked-up characters like this don't ruin it for me again#(they gross me out it's a long story)#holy shit lemme tell you about the Nami/Ace shipping from circa 2006#it was fire and reminds me of the Nami/Law shipping from today's time#I've become such a multishipper with this fandom and Law is up there for fandom bicycles#as is Ace in his own way though I personally don't get into that too much#I also can't get behind shipping either Ace or Law with Luffy idk wtf you people are on but no thanks I don't want any#Gol D. Ace#Trafalgar D. Water Law#they go down here bc spoilers and shit#y'all thought DW owned my fandom life oh hells naw astronaut meme it's always been One Piece
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