#who are you anon? where did you come from??!
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hello. alexalblondo's rude anon coming here to humbly and politely beg for galex primer because i dont understand their history. george said he lived at alex's family's house at one point? how - weren't they already racing? sorry thank you humble thank you 🙏🙏
hello!!! thanks chris for the referral FKFJDKD
i have overwhelmed my alex and george tags so much that i fear i could never capture all of it but my galex key moment anthology is under the cut!!
karting/early single seaters
Alex thinks they met in 2011 but the footage in georges flip phone says he knew alex back in 2009.
Their first actual interaction (so far as they've told the world) was when alex was world champion with the intrepid karting team and bc he was their reference driver he was asked to help pick the drivers who were quick to replace him when he moved up and he picked george (and charles) so they were then part of that same intrepid driver programme for a while. Interestingly, alex was always at least one year above him bc of their ages and george says the fact they didn't really race directly against each other before 2016 was probably why they became such good friends.
They did a deep dive of their camera rolls from this time on twitch a couple years back and talked about the oldest pictures they have of each other in their camera rolls (1:25:36) which was cute.
2017
2017 is the year george basically lived with alex. They were also sharing a trainer whilst alex was competing in gp2 and george was in gp3. George was doing mercedes sim work at their factory so rented a flat in milton keynes near where alex lived but according to alex that rent was wasted money bc george had more meals at alexs' house than he did that year. Also as detailed in those links, the Great Mountain Biking Incident of 2017 occurred at this time so we have the fun mental image of george literally wheeling alex into a&e on a wheelchair bc that is an actual event that happened.
2018
George and alex both in f2 fighting for the title year wooooo!! They never really fought on track but we did get fun tidbits like when alex pipped george to the win at silverstone bc george had a slow pit stop and giggled about it in parc ferme (5:42) & these post session interviews.
also some incredible photoshoots.
2019
Promotion to f1!!! We started the year at winter testing and this nugget that they have both accepted that they are actually tied together by the strings of fate. They're doing fun media stuff like karting and bullying each other over percentage of apexs hit at the skypad (video). 2019 also the start of the umbrella sharing. They were just together a lot… more skypad analysis!!!
2019 also has MY personal favourite galex moment which was hockenheim 2019 and the 45 minute phone call galex had on the way home after george missed out on scoring what would have been his first point in f1 and only point of the season.
There was also the summer break and enjoying a training camp together, exchanging infections etc. Alex also took george to meet lily for the first time, bc that’s a normal thing to do.
There was also the rookie of the year vid, and the rookie season review vid at the end of the year. Much was happening.
2020
The year started with f1 trying to race during a global pandemic. Fun! On the singular media day before everyone realised just how stupid that was they were being annoying. The lockdowns did give us the twitch streams. George was initially so bad at virtual racing he had to secretly consult alex's brother for help behind alexs back. George was also actively seeking alex out like a missile at any given opportunity and at one point felt necessary to declare that he wasn't alexs boyfriend when someone asked if alex was going to be streaming that day. Anyway my lockdown twitchscapades tag has a post with a playlist of all the streams that haven't been lost or deleted if you want to feel joy and have a spare million hours.
Racing resumed in July with the covid team bubbles and within two races and one qualifying session george was defending alexs honour to sky sports and the world in a truly remarkable fashion.
At the end of the year alex was unemployed....even more tragic than this loss was that alexs career difficulties were so extreme he started ghosting george, which devastated him to the extent he needed to publicly drag him for it.
There was also george asking lily to post alexs n*des on instagram and lily responding with if anyone has them it would be you which was perhaps the last time george had access to his own social media password.
Despite george not liking it they celebrated alexs first podium by going golfing! and reverse! George was also gifted an alex albon signed autograph card for christmas and said that he'll put it somewhere special x
2021
The beginning of 2021 was during lockdown and there was more fun virtual gps except the only two drivers doing it were george and alex so they were just bitching and gossiping and threatening to steal strategies and abu dhabi 2016 each other. Particular shoutout to the time they had a virtual race on valentines day and alex put a suit on for it and george was baffled. Immediately after valentines day was georges birthday which lily used to thank george for letting her borrow his boyfriend from time to time.
Then the season started with george enduring the season alexless and not letting anyone forget about it. Alex was turning up to races after being locked in the simulator until the early hours posting stuff like this on instagram and otherwise stumbling over his words after getting whipped on the ass.
Perhaps the defining moment of the galex 2021 season was george pushing the williams board to sign alex so heavily that they had to actively shut him out of proceedings. Also at this time there was this cute congrats from alexs family and one from alex to georgie about the mercedes seat.
anyway here's some more random 2021 nuggets:
i've seen him topless a few times
george getting alex a good deal on a merc x
yet More golf
the handover
georges driver room
2022
They truly lost every inch of personal space in 2022 like. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. The back signing Hello.
2022 had alex having his appendix out, nearly dying and alexs family updating george whilst alex was in the icu and then when alex returned for the next race in signapore a couple weeks later (insane behaviour) george was like mmm audacious of him to be here.
Elsewhere alex discovered georges photoshoot and was making screensavers about it. Alex also discovered hair dye and george was making instagram stories about it.
other random 2022 nuggets:
george is alexs fave f1 driver excluding himself
this skit williams did of lily finding a huge picture of george in alexs driver room
whatever this image is of lily george and alex
private plane carpool
double date
2023
@onadarklingplain covers the whole year for you much MUCH better than i ever could here!!!!!
and that brings us to present where they're just as weird and freaky with each other as ever!!!
#hopefully it answers at least some of ur questions!!!#i would perfect this but frankly i have spent like. seven hours. on this so im just hitting post. godspeed!#galex#asks#anon#alex albon#george russell
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before the corn grows.
Batboys x depressive!reader
a/n: oh my gosh this was so therapeutic—also, I was unsure whether to include people on the az taglist in this fic since it’s technically a poly fic? Sorry if you didn’t want to be included in this, I wasn’t sure about it :/
As always, thank you for the request, anon <3!
warnings: mentions of self-inflicted violence, fluff, I think this is technically hurt/comfort?
word count: 2,766
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“Judgemental prick.”
“I don’t think I said anything.”
“You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cassian scowls, stirring in the fifth spoonful of sugar. “For the Spymaster, you were practically yelling it across the table. It’s the small things in life—I’ll enjoy some damn sugar in my tea if I want to.”
Azriel shifts in his seat, powerful arms folded over a broad chest, thighs spread as he relaxes into the seat. “There was nothing small about the amount you just put in,” he replies, smirking. “Just looking out for your health.”
“You look after yours and I’ll look after mine,” the General mutters, brows tightening at the cocky smirk on his brother’s mouth. Matching hazel eyes glint with sinister mirth that Cassian decides to ignore for today, raising the mug to his lips and drinking deeply.
He jerks violently, spraying the bitter liquid across the table, making Az recoil. “It’s salty?” He glares at his brother, who’s now grimacing at the smattering of tea that’s been spat in his direction. “I told you I was looking out for your health,” he mutters, reaching for the kitchen roll.
The General grabs it first, snatching the roll away, dabbing at his mouth and tongue before Azriel is leaning across the table, grappling at Cassian’s arm to try and pry it from his thick fingers. “Let go you prick, I’m the one who has that concoction on my tongue,” the General snaps gruffly. “And I’ve got your saliva all over my leathers. Hand it over.”
“Oh I’m sorry, did I ruin your pretty clothes? Is your vanity hurt?”
“Piss off, bastard,” Azriel snaps. “You should have paid more attention to what you were spooning into your drink.”
The door swings open and the third brother walks in, violet eyes visibly worried, fingers preoccupied with straightening the pristine cuff of his sleeves. Freshly polished shoes pause in their place, surveying the chaos that’s unfolded upon the kitchen table. The two pull apart, sobered by Rhys’s strained look, at once on guard.
“Where are you going?” Cassian asks, noting the fine but not flashy dress of the High Lord—clean but casual. “Have you seen her recently?” Rhys asks, and they both stiffen, shaking their heads. Hazel eyes glance at one another across the table, before returning to anxious violet, in time to catch him running a hand through his hair.
“She’d been focusing on getting orders done in time for solstice presents,” Azriel offers solemnly, “it’s when the most work comes in, so she’ll be resting now.”
“I’m going to check on her,” Rhysand announces, and neither of the Illyrians object. Not a word needs to be spoken to know the High Lord will relay whatever news there is to the two of them the second he learns it.
Then in a whisper of darkness, he vanishes.
————
The door had been locked, but it hadn’t been an issue.
The issue was the stagnant air in her house. The issue was the moulding bread in the kitchen. The issue was the dirty clothes scattered across her bedroom floor.
The issue was, she looked like she hadn’t gotten out of bed for a week straight, hair knotted and oily, skin lacking the warmth of life, eyes numb and unfocused.
He braces himself to deal with her, then lands three quiet knocks to her open bedroom door—letting her know he’s here. Blankets curl tighter, being pulled over her head, wrapping into a tight ball that shudders and sobs almost silently. He can hear the gasping inhales, the wet snivels as she tries to hide away.
He knew something had been amiss.
“Lovely,” he calls softly, the name like heated cotton against clean skin. “How long have you been sleeping for?”
————
You curl tighter, feeling the bed dip, the shape of a large, warm palm settling over your shoulder.
“Go away,” you manage numbly, throat raw, sinuses hurting. “I’m tired. Leave me alone.” Limbs wrap tighter, trying to pull yourself together for him. Simultaneously wanting to scream at him to get out, to hit and lash at him, wanting to melt into his arms. Yet the raging instincts rise, and rise, and repeatedly fall short, losing their momentum and disintegrating into silence. Your clothes are stiff and sticky, glued to your body with sweat and salt, and you hate you hate you hate everything so much that it has to be pushed away. Folded up neatly into a box and just pushed away.
Fingers latch over the duvet, prying it from your grip with startling ease, hands too weak to do much against him, stomach aching with nausea. Light cracks into your vision, and you attempt to hide from him, conceal the gleaming spit and snot across your upper lip and chin, hide the puffiness of your eyes and the knotted mess of your hair—damp from tears that had been shed what feels like hours ago.
“What’s wrong…?” He asks softly, knuckles brushing the rat-tailed hair from your forehead, pushing it away so it’s no longer being coated in saliva and mucus and tears. “Talk to me, please,” he whispers, making to pull you up.
Sobs wrack your chest, slamming into you with violent force, wet breaths gasping from cracked lips as you heave with despair, uncontrollable spasms seizing your lungs as a fresh wave wrecks through you. He can feel you shaking your head, wet palms trying to dry freshly tearful eyes, hot water dripping heavily onto his shirt as you try to stop.
“Please…” you croak out, stumbling over the word, interrupted by stuttering breaths. “Leave me…go…”
“I’m not leaving you like this,” he whispers tenderly, pushing wet hair behind a pointed ear. But you shake your head again, crying harder, and his heart fumbles in his chest, aching sharply.
“I don’t…go away,” you moan shakily, head lowered against his shoulder. “I don’t want you here.” Lips are weighed in viscous saliva, turning them soft and slimy, making it hard to speak. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, arm wrapping over your back, power sliding for the window to flick the latch open—get some fresh air circling the space.
“I don’t…I don’t want you here!” You cry sharply, trying to wriggle out of his hold, struggling to return to your grave-like bed. To dive into the thick and smelly sheets that’ll get tangled with your limbs. “Lovely,” he says quietly, “hold still.”
Your body shudders to a gradual stop, shins and upper arms burning with the movement, left raw and unhealed from the lack of energy. Breathing stutters as you try to back away from hyperventilating, trying to calm your lungs, but the airways continue to spasm.
His broad palm pushes the stray locks of hair away, still saturated with salty tears that clump at the ends, scraggly and messy and smelly and damp and cold and…you try to pull away from him, feeling disgusting for getting him dirty. He’s so clean and tidy, and smelling so nice, like freshly washed sheets and crisp morning air. He shouldn’t be in your room.
You can hear the stuttering pulse of his heart, the only give to his emotions and one you’re only able to discern because he doesn’t think to hide it from you. He strokes your hair soothingly, goading you to calm, to resign yourself into his care so he can look after you.
“I’m tired,” you manage, chest shuddering with stammering breaths.
“Then rest,” he whispers, “but let us be with you.”
“No…” You shake your head, brows scrunching as your lungs begin to flutter and he holds you just that little bit tighter. It’s bad enough that he’s seeing you like this, it can’t be the others too. “Rhys…”
“Let’s get you cleaned up, first,” he murmurs, pulling away and cupping your jaw, violet meeting your gaze, “okay?” Your lower lip wobbles, fresh tears spilling as you grip just that little bit tighter, at last falling into him, if only because you lack the energy to stave off anything else. Far too tired to protest.
————
It had been so much worse than he had been anticipating, and a small part of him recoiled with sorrow when wrapping her shins in bandages, carefully applying a numbing balm to her upper arms to ease with movement.
He hadn’t realised…he hadn’t seen the signs… Even looking back on the weeks leading up to Starfall, he can’t find anything out of order. She’d been as peaceful as usual, as calm and reserved as normal, preparing for the influx of projects, almost anticipating them, desiring things to preoccupy her mind with, perhaps.
He feels wretched and useless, only able to scramble after the remnants of the storm. Desperately trying to find pieces of what he’d known in the wreckage of a war. Her eyes stay vacant, though not as foggy as when he’d first found her.
A bath had been too painful, so he’d used his hands to clean off the grime, only a flannel, soap, and a warm bucket of water at his disposal. He can only hope that once she’s fed, her body will begin its reconstruction, stitching together the thin slices, healing over scars so she doesn’t have to be reminded of it. Though he wonders if that’s an appealing aspect rather than a detestable one.
He’s proud of his own scars, memories stored away within his skin, stories contained within the tissue of battles long past. A map of his history placed into the grain of his body. He wonders if it’s at all comparable—how she starves herself so the cuts might set, so she will be able to look back at what she’s gotten through. A token of some kind for surviving. To know that while it’s all inside her own head, none of its meaning is detracted.
Pain is still pain, no matter where it comes from.
————
You’d tried so desperately to pull yourself together. To keep those haunting beats of emotion kept wrapped up in ribbons and bows, so it would be less inclined to leap out if stored comfortably.
Had tried to sit on the box to keep it from bursting open, so you wouldn’t have to bear that vulnerability. You’d rather stick yourself with knives that try to articulate what can only exist in the blood of your veins and the screaming caves of your mind. The echoes that repeat until painful instructions are being mumbled upon your numb lips, hardly unaware of the order to cut, cut, cut.
Had managed for the most part to section them off, until he’d finished tucking you into a spare bed, and his lips had brushed your cheek.
Then some tears had again dripped out, but he’d thumbed those away tenderly, never becoming fed up on the nonstop trickle.
You could hardly manage to look at him, not ready to face that reality yet. Then he’d told you he would be finding you a meal, and that you should eat as much as you felt capable of, but that you should try. And then he had pressed another light kiss to your cheek, swifter than the last, not giving you time to comprehend it, helping keep the tears to a minimum.
A large part of you is relieved, a great weight raised and wiped from your shoulders now your skin is clean again, now your hair is no longer sticking to your scalp but smelling fresh and healthy. Relieved you can again feel your circulation up and running, having gotten too used to the freezing tips of your fingers and toes, the cold numbness that had overtaken your shins and arms as your body tried to spool in the blood to your torso.
A knock sounds at the door, and you lift your head to spot hazel eyes watching you, concerned, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. He sees the reaction, and sighs, opening the door a little wider so he can walk inside.
“Does Rhys know you’re here, Cassian?” You ask, a sad smile on your lips as you incline your head to look up at him, stood beside your bed. Before he can answer though, you here a derisive snort coming softly from the hallway, and a tender warmth unfurls in your chest, throat aching a little with emotion. “Az, you too?”
A figure wreathed in shadow steps guiltily into the empty doorframe, one hand resting on the wooden beam as if he might leave.
You swallow thickly, shifting comfortably beneath the crisp sheets, liking how they rustle with the movement, scraping against bare and clean skin, even if it hurts a little. “Did… Has Rhys told you…?”
Cassian watches you silently, an anguished look on his features, but Azriel pauses, then nods his head solemnly.
Your lips press together into a thin line, unsure what to say if they already know. There’s no use in lying then, or trying to get out of it. Not without causing more concern. So you allow your shoulders to slump, resting back into the pillows. “I don’t really know how it happened,” you admit quietly, peering into your lap. “I just…I guess it had been building up for a while.” Your eyes shut briefly, hands rising to cover your face, rubbling lightly at your brows before falling away again, “I didn’t even know I was in it until I was out of it.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain anything,” Cassian says thickly, hand hesitantly settling over your shoulder, thumb stroking in slow, careful motions, ready to pull away if you don’t want the touch. But your lower lip wobbles, head dipping a little, before leaning into the gentle feel, the broad, reassuring warmth of his palm, the callouses rasping against your scrubbed-soft skin.
“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Az murmurs, closer than he should sound from the doorway, but then you feel the slightly cool breath of his shadows curling against your cheek, and a tear drips down your face. You nod. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice thick, clogged with emotion, “now. I’m fine now.”
“Are you…” Azriel begins, trailing off when you glance at him questioningly, his heart aching when you turn your gaze to him, the small cuts peeking out from atop the duvet. Cassian takes up the lead, thumb still gently sweeping over your shoulder. “We want to hold you. Will you let us?”
Your lower lip wobbles, eyes growing hot and wet at the simple ask, somehow knowing exactly what you’re too afraid and embarrassed to ask for. “Yes…” you manage, voice small and quiet.
Neither of them comment on it, moving with swift certainty, collecting at your sides as their wings reorganise at their backs. It’s a rare sight to see them in anything other than their leathers, but the soft fabric is welcomed as they settle, the pale linen thin enough for you to feel heat through it, to almost be swept away by the comfort their scent brings, like returning home after weeks away, remembering the scent that you become too quickly accustomed to, to fully appreciate and treasure.
You lean into Cassian’s side, head tipped against his shoulder, Azriel pressed close enough to twine your fingers together in your lap atop the sheets, shadows roaming freely between the three of you, a sure sign you’re home again.
A long sigh comes from the doorway, sounding more resigned than disapproving—he knew this was going to happen at one point or another. There would be no separating any of you in a moment of need or vulnerability.
“I thought I told you to at least wait until she’d recovered a little more,” Rhys sighs, a gently scolding tone to his words, eyes displeased but softening when they spot how you’ve practically melted into his brothers’ sides. You switch subjects, eyeing the tray he’s brought, stomach grumbling as the promise of a hot meal dawns in your mind. “That smells good…” you murmur, watching him intently, and a fond smile curves his lips.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Rhys replies. “Your favourite, if my memory serves.”
Your brows curve, lip wobbling again—you don’t deserve this. Them.
But Rhys has already leaned over Cassian, pressing a kiss to your forehead, smoothly sliding the tray into your lap.
“Eat,” he instructs softly. “If you’re still so inclined, you can cry afterwards, but eat first, okay?”
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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover
az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes
#poly!bat boys#batboys x reader#poly!batboys x reader#batboys x reader fluff#poly!batboys x reader fluff#before the corn grows.
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Did it seem like to you that Sam was "off "from the photos from ts show? There were photos where he barely smiled and seemed to be in background just there. I wondered if he was uncomfortable after that video he made about stealing taylor from trav or if he couldnt be himself there with cait because of starz people. It almost seemed awkward in some photos. I noticed the rings changed hands in some pic's. It seems they had a good time mostly but for someone like him mostly bubbly and smiling i would've thought he would be more excited like sophie was. I could be wrong just my perception. I'm not a taylor fan so i could understand the lack of excitement. 😆
I didn't detect any 'off-ness' from Sam Anon. I don't know what you were seeing but I saw the whole cast having an absolute blast which is really nice to see, coming off the disaster that is hookergate. I saw a very loving bond between Sam and Cait, an ease and intimate affection always in close proximity of one another whilst being astutely aware that they had eyes on them at all times. I saw close friendships amongst the entire cast.
Sam isn't an 18 year old female Swifty. He is a 44 year old loving husband and father, hence why he wasn't flapping about in sheer ecstasy as Sophie was. His public image cultivated by his useless PR team and Starz, is at complete odds with who he is in reality, and that's probably the discrepency that you picked up on Anon.
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Smokescreen angst where he missed Alpha Trion >:).
Coming right up anon! Yall really like seeing my boy Smokey go though The Horrors don't you? Maybe I need to right a horror one shot with him since I've done Bee.
You know what? Imma link this to the previous Smokey angst. Lets make an AU for it. Previous part here.
━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━
The night was longer on Earth. At least, it felt long to Smokescreen when he stood guard.
He hadn't actually been ordered to stand guard, but Smokescreen had taken the job upon himself after arriving on the world of dust and dirt he now found himself walking. Waiting in position was familiar, and comforting. Especially since late at night, he often got the chance to perform his familiar duty of shadowing the Archivist.
"Smokescreen." The Archivist regarded him simply. Smokescreen took that as his cue to join him in his walk to the console. The dim light of the device was soothing in the quiet atmosphere of the base, especially as the Archivist stepped up to his place and sighed. It was deep and tired, the Archivist's vents long worn from millennia of functionality. Smokescreen smiled at the familiarity, especially as the Archivist began to type with speed reserved for those raised within the halls of Iacon's most prestigious institute.
He would have loved to mingle with the Archivist and his fellows back during the golden age. Sure, it had it's problems, but it was a time of learning and change. It was a time and a world he never had the chance to know. In a way, he envied the Archivist for having had the opportunity to live an arguably normal life before the war began in earnest.
He settled himself a few feet away from the console to watch the Archivist and ensure nothing happened to him during his work. His fans slowed and he stood with his arms hung loosely by his side. Before his change of scenery, the Archivist would normally assign him a datapad to read.
He had no such luxuries in his new station.
Still, in the quiet it was easy to forget and imagine that shelves filled with datapads surrounded him as he watched the Archivist work. The tapping of digits on the console, the faint green glow of the device, and the periodical tick of a file completed were all easy for Smokescreen to lose himself in as he stood at attention.
Time passed, and as it did, he found himself longing to request permission to go read something from the fiction section. Conquests and old wars. Heroes and Primes long dead. He always loved those stories. Maybe if he asked kindly, the Archivist would let him wander off for a bit. He looked busy, and his features were largely obscured due to the way the light hit him. Surely he wouldn't notice if Smokescreen fell into a good story for a while. The night was long, and a datapad would keep his tired optics from shuttering until he was released from his watch.
"Hey, Trion, could I read something in the historical section for a bit? It's hard to stay awake standing around like this." He rubbed around his optics, hoping the touch would force his vision to focus. Through blurred optics, the Archivist's plating shone a familiar purple. But as the Archivist turned from his work in confusion and began to approach, Smokescreen saw for the first time that night just who he was looking at.
The Archivist turned Prime. Red and blue bound together in firm plating designed for war and conflict. Bright blue optics that shared the same wisdom as the Archivist Smokescreen was used to serving. Powerful arms and long thin digits perfectly sculpted for handling delicate data.
This Archivist was not Alpha Trion.
"I'm sorry! I got confused for a minute..." He trailed off as those optics met his. The Prime said nothing for a moment. It was a suffocating silence as both of them seemed to stew in the maelstrom of memory that came from their respective times in the Iaconian Archives.
They came from different eras, but they shared one thing in common.
Alpha Trion.
Sweet Primus, he hadn't realized just how much he missed the quiet of the Archives or the thoughtful mumbles of the Master Archivist.
"There is no shame in missing one who you hold dear." Optimus spoke slowly, almost as if he was forcing his voice to remain steady.
"I too miss my master." The Prime vented deeply, and for a moment, Smokescreen saw a younger mech. Optimus seemed so very pained in the dim light of the console. His optics were wider and more emotive. His field was clamped close like all Iaconians, at least according to the records. Even his posture seemed softer, lacking the air of the firm commander long used to death and destruction.
He looked like a simple data clerk.
For a moment, his expression mimicked Smokescreen's.
"He taught me a lot... I miss hearing him ramble on about everything under Luna 1." He found himself opening up as Optimus's field crept around his own, pulling him in. Before he knew it, his frame moved of its own accord until he was only a foot or two away from the towering Prime.
"Alpha Trion was fond of the old tales. I spent many long nights reading accounts from the last generation to have lived before the Quintessons arrived." Optimus stared at the console as his optics cycled wide. He seemed lost in memory as he smiled softly.
"My master was not pleased to see me engrossed in something other than my work." The Prime's digits hovered over the console keyboard, almost in a contemplative manner. Smokescreen found his field opening on instinct. He couldn't help but the sense of companionship that flared in his spark as he watched the mighty Prime speak so freely to him.
"I get that. Trion caught me with my face stuck in a novel all the time." He admitted his own guilt with a quiet laugh. Optimus raised an optical ridge in surprise, but he otherwise remained unreactive. His field rippled in comforting waves, washing Smokescreen's worries away as the Prime questioned him.
"You read novels?"
"Yeah, uh, I like historical fiction." He rubbed the back of his neck guard guiltily.
"Primes, heroes, great champions and all that. I don't think Trion approved of my choice of literature." He fiddled with his digits, unable to meet Optimus's optics. All those vorns in the Archive, wasted reading silly novels. He really should have taken more care back then. But he wouldn't have traded the passing moments he shared with Alpha Trion for anything.
"He never stopped me reading while I was supposed to be on watch, but he did snatch my novel and give me more suitable material a lot." He remembered vividly the way the Master Archivist would sigh and take away the novel he was reading when on duty. Generally speaking, what he was given in return didn't peak his interest. But whatever he read, he remembered. Maybe because the Master Archivist tended to stare daggers at him when he was caught trying to reach for a novel after being caught.
It was a fond memory for him. He didn't expect Optimus to laugh so boldly as he processed what Smokescreen had said.
"That sounds like my master." The Prime smiled wide, and Smokescreen could see the sincerity in his optics as he did so. It stunned him to see such emotion on the normally stoic Prime.
"I cannot count the number of times he shut down the datanet in my sector when he caught me speaking to Megatronus. He always told me that my actions were dangerous and that strangers should not be trusted." Optimus's laughter died off as he reminisced. Smokescreen could hardly comprehend the very idea of Optimus being young and chatting with strangers on the datanet like it was the greatest sin a mech could commit. And yet as he looked at Optimus, he could imagine the Archivist looking around warily before frantically swapping tabs to send a swift message.
He could just as easily imagine Alpha Trion appearing out of the blue to press the power button. Smokescreen had been on the receiving end of such treatment before. Yet another experience they shared.
"He cared deeply for each of his students." Optimus's voice was soft, wistful. Smokescreen's spark panged in loss. Optimus really was the perfect student. He could imagine how much Alpha Trion cared for the Prime. Sure, he'd done some things in his youth, but he was wise, powerful, and more knowledgeable than half the Autobots combined. How could he not be Alpha Trion's favorite?
"I bet he really cared about you. After all, you did become Prime." His tone was more bitter than anticipated. He was going to apologize, but a firm servo on his shoulder stopped him before he could.
"Do not sell yourself short, Smokescreen. I can tell my master cared for you as well." A smile greeted him, and Smokescreen remained stunned as the Prime leaned down to mostly match his height.
"The ease in which you carry yourself, the knowledge you possess, and the fondness in your tone tells me that he treated you kindly." The Prime's field wrapped around him warmly, like a hug from the gentlest of giants. Tears gathered in his optics against his will as the Prime met his gaze with understanding.
"Our master did not offer his affection easily." His venting hitched as he registered Optimus's words. The Prime brought him in for a hug as sobs overcame him. To know that Alpha Trion cared? It eased an ache he didn't know he suffered from.
He missed the Master Archivist. He missed the quiet moments they shared and the reprimands he received for slacking off. He regretted being unable to save him, for both his and Optimus's sake.
By the time he calmed, Optimus had been humming a soft tune for a while. It felt familiar, likely from the Archive. He appreciated it.
"I still carry a few novels in my hab. If you would like them, I will give them to you." The offer came gently as Optimus pulled away. He Prime kept his servo on Smokescreen's shoulder, guiding him toward the hallway leading back to the team's habs. Smokescreen could break away if he wished, but the offer was there, and he found himself eager to follow the Prime as Optimus edged in the direction of the hall.
"You read novels too?" He could hardly believe it, and yet based on what he now knew about the Prime, it seemed in character for him to indulge in stories rather than documents cycle in and cycle out. Every mech needed a chance to unwind, even Primes.
"You are not the first student that Alpha Trion had to steal unregistered reading material from." Optimus smiled again, and this time, Smokescreen smiled with him as he followed the Prime dutifully. Their fields mingled in a companionable way and he relished in the joy of being with a fellow student of Alpha Trion, no matter how great the age difference.
"I have a small collection of works I saved from the datanet before it fell apart. One of my favorite series is amongst my small collection." Optimus's voice was filled with joy as he walked the halls, Smokescreen at his right side taking long strides to keep up.
"What's it called?" He asked, eagerness filling his field. How long had it been since he'd read a novel? He was sure that it had been a few centuries at least, even if most of that time was spent in stasis.
"Sunburst, Explorer of Crystal City." The Prime seemed truly excited to share his work as he entered his hab and pulled a box out from under his berth. Smokescreen hovered around, watching as the box was placed on the hard surface and its contents revealed. There were at least a dozen scuffed up datapads all arranged in alphabetical order just like Alpha Trion always preferred his work to be organized.
"Historical fiction?" He guessed hopefully. Optimus smiled knowingly as he pulled out what Smokescreen could only assume was the first datapad in the series.
"Yes. It is written from the perspective of a scientist attempting to find old relics within the abandoned city of the Primes. It is quite a fascinating read. I think you may enjoy it." The datapad was pressed into his waiting servos, and Smokescreen did not hesitate to smile as widely as he could. His spark flared in joy at the familiar surface of the datapad, and he didn't feel at all awkward when Optimus pulled him out a chair to sit on.
Optimus felt more like a friend as they sat together, Optimus on his berth and Smokescreen on a chair, both reading novels written in an age without war. There was probably work they could both be doing, but as the night continued on, neither of them made to move. They were content.
And just for a little while, Smokescreen was happy to pretend he was back in the Archive, resting and relaxing with a friend while he waited for Alpha Trion to come snatch his datapad away.
#transformers#maccadam#transformers prime#optimus prime#smokescreen#alpha trion#slight angst#just two students of alpha trion bonding#an older archivist with the younger#enjoying their shared culture together
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I just don't understand how you like S*l? He is actually right up there with T**g for being the worst. There is nothing good about him, sorry.
i don't understand the wild and weird hate against sol (or even remotely comparing him to tong) but here we are, anon. like if joe out right saying sol is a good person can't convince ya'll... idk why you're asking me?
anyway... you asked for my thoughts and opinions, so you shall receive.
sol is just a really interesting dude to me. he's just some guy that i think is really neat. he's a thai kpop idol and FAMOUS famous but he isn't like tong about it. he's kind and just a really good-hearted person. he's the sunny type, cheerful, caring, and loyal to his friends. like joe, sol is a sunflower in the toxic showbiz world msi is set in.
(tbh i see him and ming, who is also a fascinating character, as kind of two sides of the same "rich and famous" coin. ming is cold, aloof, calculating with walls as high as elon crust's ego is inflated. and then there is sol, open and kind-hearted. which is exactly why he and joe hit it off. funny though, ming and sol are petty but like on completely opposite ends of the petty spectrum.)
after lovingly bugging @zhouxiangs for novel spoilers i really wished the series had touched more on sol and joe's history instead of just a few throwaway lines here and there because sol's story ;3; my smol bean of a son. (and this is where media literacy and nuance comes in :D but y'all barely have any of that.)
joe and sol were very close . they ate, trained, and slept (sleeping type of slept lol) together. they did everything together. and then sol found out joe was gay (in the novel sol was also struggling with his sexuality) and then joe confessed to sol. joe liked sol first (not this weird warped reality y'all are living in where sol has been obsessing over joe). but anyway, sol was young and scared and dumb. he was afraid of being taken advantage of and also of his own feelings for joe and he ran away. joe got over it and never held it against him.
while in korea, it seemed that sol struggled to connect with people and went through some tough times as a trainee (i'm quoting from porsche's interview) and he realized his true feelings for joe so when he had the chance to return to thailand he took it and he sought out joe to reconnect. as a friend, as more.
was he supposed to have some sort of psychic link with joe that he was already seeing someone? obviously not. but when joe made it clear he liked ming, sol backed off romantically. he didn't back off as a friend though. (idk about y'all friendless gremlins but if one of my close friends was in the situationship from hell that joe was in... i'd also try and make them see reason, open their eyes. like sol once having feelings for joe does not diminish his friendship with joe. at all. (yes the scene of joe and sol in the van in ep 6 means everything to me. joe and sol were friends, brothers even. and that scene showed it.)
fyi, novel sol recognized joe too :D
ANYWAY, it was interesting to see the change in sol after joe's death. he isn't his usual cheerful self, but he's still kind and polite if a bit more reserved. and i for one love the cattiness with ming he has going on? LEAVE MING ALONE i see y'all shouting but me I WANT HIM TO PUNCH MING IN THE NUTS ONCE (if y'all can project, so can i) like ming deserves to catch a bit of shit from sol (his 'khun chai ming' sent meeee), since his and tong's bullshit directly contributed to the death of his best friend.
is sol perfect? no. (the fight with ming where joe got hurt. or the phone call scene that resulted in joe effectively being cut out of sol's life. again.) but are any of these characters perfect? absolutely not.
sol though is strangely villainized and for what? because he's trying to help and protect his friend (and is maybe being snotty with ming but... deserved tbh lol)? because he might be feeling a little righteous and fafo with the guy who took his friend away from him? because he once had feelings for joe but then redirected them into being a decent human and a good friend?
sponsored by: @zhouxiangs and porsche/lotte interview with iqiyi.
#my stand in#sol love club 🩷#is this even coherent? i'm three days into migraine hell loool#usersasa#response
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Hii!!! This account has been my go-to for daryl fics since ive been into him. And i really love the way you write!! But since im a sucker for angst and anything cry-worthy, ive been wanting a fic where its in pre-negan and to negan's first appearance timeline— after rick decides to bring maggie to the hilltop to figure out what's wrong with her, the reader is to stay with gabriel to watch out for alexandria, but considering how her anxiety for daryl and the other's safety is eating her she went out to look for them, using the tracking skills daryl had taught her. The time she found the group was at the lineup, Abraham's head already bashed to a unidentifiable pulp. Due to the scene she couldnt help but act in fury and tried attacking negan but his men was able to catch up and before she could even lay a finger on negan, she was kneeling aswell. this triggers Daryl, not being able to see reader in such danger as he vowed to protect her at all cost and punched negan which causes him to stumble. And instead of glenn dying at Daryl's outburst, its the reader who gets a taste of lucille.
And i leave the rest to you! :DD
Well first of all anon I am HONORED to be your go to 🥹 please accept this flower as a token of my appreciation 🌸
Anyways, I’m an absolute sucker for angst and you have INSPIRED ME. I hope you’re ready for the b i g sad.
*ahem* *cracks knuckles*
The Man Who…
Masterlist || Taglist
(Fem!Reader) (Reader Description: has hair)
Warnings: blood, gore, profanity
With your teeth chewing tirelessly at your nail beds, the flesh had become raw. A faint hue of blood settled in between the cracks on your lips.
A deep pit had formed in your gut. It was vacuous, consuming. Your nerves were eating you alive. Nobody had come back yet. You knew it wouldn’t be a quick trip, but still. And nobody had radioed back in over an hour.
You sucked in a sharp breath, partially in hopes that the sensation of air filling your lungs would calm the rapid pace of your heart.
“Is something the matter?” Gabriel asked you, having picked up on your restlessness.
“We haven’t heard from them.” You said simply, foot tapping against the ground. Gabriel pressed his lips together and nodded.
“The Lord is with them. They’ll be okay.” He assured you. With a scoff, your rolled your eyes. Who was he to preach to you in times of need? What did he care? He left his entire congregation to be eaten alive.
“I have to use the bathroom.” You announced abruptly, pushing your chair back and exiting the room with haste. You stomped down the hall into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.
You stared at yourself for a while, begging your reflection for some guidance. Daryl told you to stay put. You made a deal with him a long time ago, never to break away from the plan unless you had no choice. However, would he sit idly by if he didn’t know you were safe? Surely not. You may have made a deal with him, but the two of you had also taken an oath to each other.
It was the silent, unspoken kind of promise. Neither of you needed to say it out loud, you just knew. You’d always protect each other, you’d always find each other, and you’d never leave the other behind. So why were you still standing there?
They would have contacted you by now if they were okay. That was the plan, and you never strayed away from the plan.
Without a second thought, you marched out of the bathroom and made hast to the armory, mapping out a plan in your mind as you did so.
……
The engine sputtered as you pulled the key from the ignition. You’d been driving for roughly an hour, following the route the others would have taken. You only pulled over when you saw the RV parked on the side of the road.
As you examined the scene around the vacant house-on-wheels, you were able to put Daryl’s teachings to use in identifying the tracks leading into the trees. The woods were eerily quiet as you followed the trail of disturbed undergrowth. Dusk was settling in, and the only sound to be identified were the rhythmic chirps of frogs and crickets.
Nightfall crept up on you quickly. Your breath had become visible in the moonlight, chills crawling all over you. Regardless, you pressed on. The night could throw anything your way, but you wouldn’t turn back. The idea that something was terribly wrong hadn’t eased. If anything, the feeling grew more dire, as if you were running out of time.
You had been consumed entirely by your thoughts at this point, worst case scenarios floating around in a sea of worry inside your mind. You were only brought back to the present when you caught a glimpse of shining lights just up ahead. Hurriedly, you crouched down into some shrubbery. The bright lights casted shadows through the leaves that danced over your face as you peered through the bushes to see what was going on.
It was hard to make out, but you could see a wall of people surrounding another RV. There was a voice, too, hidden behind the barricade of bodies. It was giving some kind of speech that you couldn’t quite pick up on. The people surrounding the scene were predatory in their demeanor, like a pack of hungry hyenas cornering their kill.
You watched for some time before you caught onto a second voice — one with more grit to it — and you recognized it immediately.
Rick was on the other side of these people, which meant the rest of your family was too. It meant Daryl would be there too.
As carefully as you could, you crawled closer, sticking low into to the shadows. You could almost make out what was being said when a strong pair of arms yolked you up by the waist. A gust of breath escaped you as your back impacted a solid chest. You flailed your arms and legs, hissing profanities in between your hunts and growls. Whoever it was struggled to contain you, but they were still just strong enough to hold you.
The people who previously had their backs to you parted, allowing entrance into their circle. The man who had your restrained dragged you into the middle. When you finally grew tired of struggling and had a chance to look around, you took it all in.
Your friends were all kneeling on the ground, shock and grief written all over their faces. People you’d never seen before surrounded you.
Your captor threw you down in to the dirt. You caught yourself with your hands. A pair of boots stepped in front of you. Your eyes followed them up to a face.
He was tall and menacing. A wide grin spear over his lips as he chuckled, swinging a bat over his shoulder.
“She was watching from the bushes, sir.” The man who found you reported.
“Huh.” He hummed, spinning on his heel to face Rick. “One of yours, I take it?”
Rick hesitated to nod. The man thought for a moment, as you continued to study the scene around you. When your eyes fell on Abraham — or, what used to be Abraham — a wave a nausea washed over you. You slapped your hand over your mouth to suppress a gag.
“Oh, shit.” The man chuckled. “Guess you missed that part. See, that’s payback for fucking with me.”
“You cocksucker.” You growled, scowling as you lunched up at the man. Arms wrapped around you again, shoving you back down into the dirt. He dragged you over to Rick and the others, kicking you into place.
That was all Daryl could bare. His chest tightened, a sharp feeling darting from his core down into he tips of his fingers. His face went numb with nerves. He had no time to think. Before you could even push yourself off the ground, Daryl sprung forward and landed a solid punch across Negan’s face.
Two men quickly dragged Daryl back into place, one of them holding a familiar crossbow to his head. “Let me do it, boss.” The man begged.
Negan recollected himself quickly, laughing at the audacity required to attack him under such circumstances. Had he not made himself clear?
“Nah. That’s not gonna work.” Negan shook his head. “I told you. No exceptions.”
In the blink of an eye his bat was raised. Time slowed down, nearly halted for those around you. You looked up, tears flowing softly down your cheeks. For a moment, you felt peace. The next moment, fear. Finally, pain. A searing, crushing, all-consuming kind of pain. A loud crunch echoed through the trees. Your ears rang loudly, vision blurry and red. You blinked rapidly, throwing to clear whatever was in your eyes.
Gasps and sobs followed. Your friends and family around you watched in horror as you struggled to sit back up. It didn’t seem like you really registered what happened. You were too disoriented from the first blow to feel the second one.
You gurgled as tried to speak, blood spurting from your lips. Daryl’s cries rattled his body, barely able to make a sound as his breath seemed to be knocked out every time the bat fell down on your skull.
The only thing you could see was a blur of lights and shadows, tainted red with your own blood. For everyone else, the view was much more gruesome. Bits of bone and brain were hanging from your frizz of hair, some of which had been snagged on Lucille’s barbed wire dressing and ripped out. Only two blows from the bat and your were fully incapacitated, reduced to a bloody blubbering lump on the ground with a dent in your skull.
Weak with horror, Daryl lost the strength to sit straight. He fell tot he ground, attempting to drag himself toward you. A heavy boot pressed into his back, holding him firmly down.
Even Negan seemed to falter at the sight of his own destruction. Killing women was a new low for him, even with his track record. Especially in such a barbaric fashion. A sniffed and frowned, gripping Lucille tightly. It was too late for second thoughts. Daryl had to be taught a lesson. He had to understand how things would be from now on. There would be no more bravery or heroism. There would only be Negan.
He raised the bat once more, glancing over to Daryl as he groveled and sobbed below Dwight’s boot. The pain in Daryl’s eyes struck a chord in Negan. It was an unmistakable kind of reaction. The kind you could only bring out of a man when you were taking away the person he loved. Negan knew that feeling all too well. His eyes fell back down to you, twitching and squeaking with pain and confusion. He decided the best thing he could do for you was to swing hard and end your misery.
The final blow was the loudest, the messiest, the one nobody could bare to watch. Blood and brain matter splattered across those close to you. Daryl, Rosita, Negan, Dwight. Everyone was silent, save for a few sobs and the only pairs of eyes that never left you were those of Daryl and Negan. The man who loved you, and the man that killed you.
……
On days like this, Daryl found his peace in the woods. His fondest memories were there.
It was the only place he could still be close to you. Near the small streams, he’d hear echoes of your laughter from years passed. He’d see the glow in your hair as the rays of sunlight filtered through the treetops, and he’d smell your sun baked scalp in the wind, just like when he’d hug you tight and press his nose into your hair.
You were everywhere around him, even if you were long gone. He’d visit this spot often. Some found this place to be haunted. Too many bad memories plagued the grounds. But, to Daryl, it was sacred. It was the last place he saw you, living and breathing.
Your body was gone from there, but your presence lingered. Your blood had soaked into the dirt long ago, mingling with the rain as it watered the earth to sprout new life. When he cremated you, he spread the ashes here. You’d be part of the earth now and forever, and he’d always have this place to visit when he missed you.
Hell, he always missed you. He never stopped thinking about you. The war was over years ago, and new threats had risen and fell. Still, you were all around him. He vowed to protect you always. He may have failed at that, but he’d never allow himself to stop honoring you. He was the man who loved you, and he’d be the man who remembered you even when no one else did.
He took a deep breath and looked down at the bouquet of flowers he’d picked at the Kingdom. A long time ago, when he first escaped the Sanctuary, he returned to this spot to decorate it. He’d lugged heavy stones and sturdy branches over and arranged them around the spot where you died. Every time he came back, he wove flowers into the crevices between the stones and twigs. He swept away fallen leaves and shooed away unwanted pests. He’d bring random trinkets and pieces of jewelry he thought you’d like and arrange them atop the stones. There was a blend of old tarnished items, dead flowers, and the new trinkets and floral arrangements he’d brought just now.
The most important thing, though, was the handwritten letter he’d always bring along. He’d wait until he had enough to tell you, then he’d write up a lengthy letter, just to sit and read it to you there. This time, he could only write of how much he missed you. How dreary life had become without you. How he missed your sarcasm, your giggle, your voice, your singing. He talked about Judith and RJ, and how he wished he could have had a child with you. He was always afraid of fatherhood, but somehow it seemed possible with you. If only you were there.
When he finished, he let the tears flow freely. He cried to you, cried for you. Eventually he’d clean himself up and place a kiss on the necklace draped over the biggest stone. It was your necklace, the one you had never taken off since he met you. It was the last tangible part of you he was able to touch.
“See ya later.” He whispered as he walked away.
tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix @superbowlisgay @liizzygrant @eddiemunsonsupremecy
#daryl dixon#daryl x reader#twd daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl x female reader#daryl twd#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl x you#daryl x y/n
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Why are you always trying to paint Arthur as a misogynist? When he clearly isn't??? I like your posts by why do you hyper fixate on stuff like that?
Hello anon and thanks for the ask.
Well, quite simply, I "paint" Arthur as someone who actively believes in and enforces gender roles because he does so in the game. It's a part of his writing and his character. The canon Arthur is NOTHING like how the fandom here on Tumblr portrays him as. That's also a reason why I started making these posts because I honestly hate when fanon becomes the accepted truth of characters and not the actual canon. It happens all the time.
I'm a very pragmatic person and this will show in my posts. I don't care about what characters COULD be and I focus more on what they ACTUALLY are. That's why my retrospective posts are usually looked at through a psychological, sociological, cultural, feminist, and/or literary point of view. I look at characters and learn things about them through their actions and words, as well as the time period that they are a part of. I do not care at all about making characters seem morally better, especially when it comes to historical attitudes because those historical attitudes aren't as historical as we make them out to be.
They still affect us every single day and only recently have we started pushing back- that's also not mentioning cultures where these attitudes are STILL encouraged, which then changes the way people think. Understanding historical attitudes allows us to understand not only our own cultures better, but people as well and why they do the things they do.
Now let's talk about Arthur. Arthur is a man born in 1863. Women couldn't even get a credit card by themselves without a man till 1974. To put it quite simply, he lived in a time era where women had almost 0 rights and those women who did succeed in life usually had some sort of male support. People supported this system, both male and female. Did you know that when the suffrage movement began, most American women didn't give a fuck because they believed that was men's duties, not their own? Point is is that even if Arthur is a lot more lenient regarding this stuff, he still actively believes in it because of how pungent it was in the society he lived in.
The first mission we have with the female gang members is heading to Valentine. The first thing he says to them is whether Miss Grimshaw could spare them from their domestic chores, already showing that in the gang, the girls' main duty is the domestic work and that Arthur supports this. Later in that mission, when he chases down Jimmy Brooks, he puts Uncle in charge of bringing them back home, even though he is an old ass man and they are three young, healthy, and capable women. In one mission, you got two examples of Arthur being an active encourager of gender roles.
And then there is Sadie- when she expresses her frustration over the work she has to do, he tries to shut her down. When she gets her pants, he mocks her: "You get a pair of pants and all of a sudden you think you're Landon Ricketts?" When she asks Dutch when she can go robbing with them, both him and Dutch laugh her off. When they bust John out of prison, he does it with her cuz literally no one else would help him and when they escape on the boat, he gets visibly annoyed that she doesn't take his hand. There are even more examples of things like this when he antagonizes her, but that's just the main game.
And there is the antagonizations of women performers. "Women shouldn't be doing this." "Go make someone some supper." "Go back to the kitchen." "This ain't ladylike." I'm sorry, but these need no explanations. His antagonize lines are just as canon as his greet lines and the fact that he says stuff like that shows that he believes in gender roles. It's an active part of his belief system.
There are so many more examples of this and the majority of them are subtle but I come from a culture that still treats its women like the 1800s treated theirs so when I ever pick up on these things, it's cuz I've lived it before.
And my final point- this is a historical game. Rockstar made sure to be as accurate as they can in regards to the time period- so characters not only react to historical attitudes but they are a part of it as well. Same goes for Arthur. He's a historical character with a historical background and historical attitudes- and that comes with the good, like chivalry, and the bad, sexism. You shouldn't play a game like RDR if you're expecting characters to feel modern in their thought processes.
Thank you and have a great day.
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💙 drunken kiss / tipsy -- i know you said you'd never write it ... but lestappen in your girl!lando verse
oh anon, honestly... you don't know the power you've wielded here because i truly did believe i'd not write it, but when i saw this prompt and i had a nice short way of doing it... i had to!!! please enjoy, i will always be nervous about my max and charles voices lmao.
_____________________
“Charlie! Charlie! We’re leaving.”
Charles barely hears George over the music, dancing with her eyes closed, packed in by hundreds of other beautiful people in short dresses and open shirts. She can still feel the tears drying on her cheeks, the snot in her nostrils from crying about him.
“Are you coming with us, or not?”
She opens her eyes, blinking the flashing colours out of the way before she focuses on George. Her hair is in loose waves around her neck, sticking to her skin from the sweat. Alex is right behind her, a possessive hand on George’s waist, fingers curled into the silk of her dress. It’s daring, almost, for them, and Charles doesn’t want to be involved with whatever game they’re playing.
“It’s fine, you go, you go.” Charles cranes her neck, searching for someone she knows, enough of a connection to the dark room that George will abandon the pretence that she wants Charles to come with them, and not to ditch her so she can go and do whatever it is that lesbians do. Charlie thinks there’s nipple sucking involved, and maybe dildos. The closest she’s ever got to it was kissing Lando in a game of truth and dare, but she thinks they’re not supposed to talk about that anymore. “Pierre is here, and Max. I will be fine.”
Carlos is still here too, somewhere, but she doesn’t mention that, or George will never leave. Charles turns her head to the sky, swaying to the music, ignoring both the creeping fear she doesn’t look sexy, and George’s worried glances as Alex steers her towards the door.
An hour could’ve passed, or two minutes, when she feels a tap on her shoulder.
“For you,” Max’s smile is wide, reaching both corners of his face, like he’s so happy his jaw is unhinging. He didn’t even win the Championship today, nothing squared off except Checo’s P2. Charles wishes… but then, it hasn’t been the year for dreaming, for her. “Champagne. Christian, of course, bought the bottle.”
Charles snorts, taking a delicate sip, trying to avoid the bubbles from sparkling in her nose.
“Mate, I should not be drinking this. Fred would be so…”
Fred wouldn’t care, Charles remembers. He’d probably take the bottle for himself, sit in a corner and laugh at his good luck. She keeps forgetting, since Mattia left, that she doesn’t need to be fearful of getting too close to the drivers from the other teams. Doesn’t need to hang her existence off Carlos and Maranello and being the sweet, innocent Madonna they imagine on her knees.
“You gave a good fight, today,” Max yells, and Charles can feel his spit on her cheek, letting her mouth drop open so it falls on her tongue. Sometimes, she wants Max more than she knows what to do with, and she’s heard things. That Kelly and him are sleeping in separate bedrooms, that she’s not in Vegas because they’re waiting until the end of the season to call it off. “When you went into the chicane? Ha, I was thinking maybe the deg would…”
Max makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, one of the classics. Charlie knows exactly what he’s getting at, the exact millimetres needed to take one of the corners and not lose pace. The guy he nearly hits in the face? Not so much. She reaches a hand out, stops him from taking out half the drinks on the dance floor.
“Can we go somewhere?” Charles shouts, and suddenly she can’t think of anything she wants to do less than dance, in a tight dress, surrounded by guys who think she’s only a 7 because she’s got natural breasts and doesn’t really know how you contour your face. “I don’t care where.”
Max takes a full bottle from the table on their way to the door, and Charlie keeps her head down when they pass a group of Ferrari mechanics by the bar. Pierre spots them, narrowing his eyes, and Charles flips him off, then nods. She knows what she’s doing.
“You cannot just get married here, of course,” Max tells her as they walk down past one of the chapels, way off the strip by now, swigging from the bottle of champagne. It’s cold, too cold for her dress, and Max’s AlphaTauri jacket is big on her shoulders, smells like him and his cologne. “You have to apply for the licence, yes? And they won’t let you do it when you’ve had drinks…”
He holds up the bottle, sloshing some onto his shirt. Max’s hair is a mess, and Charles leans a hand out to flatten it, automatically. She can’t remember the last time they were somewhere together, drunk. Monaco, maybe. New Year’s. Kelly had been there, and Charles’ boyfriend at the time. She can remember watching them kiss at midnight, soft and sincere, whilst Laurent pawed at her arse and ground his crotch against hers.
She broke up with him the next week.
It had just run its course.
“So we cannot tonight then?” Charlie purrs, and she knows it’s a bit unfair, but she’s wanted someone to flirt with all night, ever since Carlos told her he was bringing her, some model, his new girlfriend. “That is a shame, Max.”
“Ah, the press would love it.”
“Mmm,” Charles takes the bottle from him, and threads her other hand with his, swinging it between them and making him twirl her under the neon flashing lights of the chapel. “Mrs Charlie Verstappen.”
Max frowns, dragging her to a halt, and they’re very close. Above them, Cupid swings with a creak.
“You would keep your own name,” Max says seriously, and when he swallows around the lump in his throat, Charles can see it. And she knows then, that he’s thought about it, about destiny and soul mates and all the foolish things she starts to believe when she looks at their birth charts and the twin signs in their lives. La predestinata. “Of course.”
“Of course.” Charles nods, exaggerated and slow, and when she stops, she leaves her face tilted skywards. If he doesn’t take the hint now, Charles thinks, then he never will.
Max takes the bottle from her hands before he does anything, placing it carefully at their feet, and when he wraps his arms around her to a chorus of honks from a passing limo, Charles knows.
This time, it’s going to be different.
#oh the parallels!!!!#honking cars dubious fidelity getting too close in clubs#no wonder everyone was gossiping in abu dhabi!!!!#precious charlie and the weight of ferrari oof#girl!charles#lestappen#girls just wanna f1#my fic#fic ask meme
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I sent you an ask asking for two moments which ig are not needed to find out anymore cause i found it 😅
I'm using twitter translation for this so it goes like
"📖 Ch.4
- Just like JK said in Suchwita, it also comes out in this chapter: "I feel the hyungs in the way I act and speak. Suga's thoughts, RM's words, JM's actions, V's unique style, Hobi's optimism and Jin's enthusiasm 💜 +
#BEYOND_THE_STORY"
Once again jk picking up jm's actions hence the "i always follow what jiminie hyung does" lol. This also shows you ho much he admires jm's actions that he tries to adapt them. Hence why he immediately took jm's name when members praised him for being considerate cause he knows where he has learnt some of it. Not saying jk doens't has or learnt things on his own, he did and he is pretty considerate on his own but there sure was alot of things to work on he said it in the book himself.
The other moment was from long ago actually 2016 it was BTS's physiology and jk picked all members like this
"Sky (Person you like): Namjoon
Sand (Person who likes you): Jhope
Rain (Person who gives you advice): V
Sea (Person who inspires you): Jimin
Moon (Person who will protect you forever): Suga
Snow (Person who will follow you forever): Jin"
So jm is someone who has enough impact on him to inspire him. Jm inspires him. And these moments being from 2016 where the jk hates jm agendas were thriving tells you how jk actually sees jm VS how #they want to see it.
Bless your beautiful heart anon, for finding the chapter where Jk said this cuz lord knows i had been looking for it. I remembered seeing it in the book but i just couldn’t remember what chapter it was and i was too lazy to go reading the entire book again just to find that excerpt, so thank you!
Only those who intentionally want to be blind and or deaf would continue refusing to see how much of an impact Jimin has on Jk because if Jk has done one thing, it has been to make it clear that Jimin is his inspiration in so many ways. Notice how with the other members, he picks particular things about them like thoughts, words, unique style, cheerfulness and optimism. Whereas with Jimin he picks his actions. That isn’t one thing or one character trait like with the rest of the members but a generationalization of his actions. He wasn’t just talking about one thing but everything when it came to Jimin. This kinda sits on the same table as him picking specific parts as his favourite body parts of the other members and then picking Jimin’s entire body as his favourite part of Jimin. I have said it before and i’ll say it again. Jk loves JIMIN. When i say he loves Jimin, i don’t mean he loves something about him but everything about him. Jk is enamoured with the person that is Park Jimin is in all his entirety.
Jk himself has never failed to acknowledge the fact that alot of his actions are influenced by Jimin. Jokers say this all the time as it is obvious from watching him but when we say this, we are called Jokers and then when Jk himself says it with his own mouth, everyone ignores it because that is not the reality they want.
My favourite thing about being a joker is that when we say Jimin is Jk’s Catalyst, we can prove it.
When we say anything about Jikook and how we view their bond, we usually have the members words themselves to back us up. We don’t pull shit outta our asses or mistranslate stuff or purposefully twist the truth just to further our narrative. Jk and Jimin have always told us just how deep their bond runs.
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My theory is that Charles is showing us how he's going to rule differently than the Queen did. Since the beginning she kept EVERYONE even Phillip out of her regin. I read in Royals how she refused to speak with him about many issues, did not share the red box information nor let him sit in with the PM visits. From what I recall her own father didn't do that, he discussed everything with the Queen mother and leaned on her quite a bit. Charles imo chafed at Elizabeths reluctance to share power with him, to ease him into ruling. Also when the big public push to William to ascend probably caused a lot of jealousy kinda "pass me over when I haven't got to do anything as King?". So I think Charles was happy to have the then Cambridges spend their time raising their children instead of taking a chunck what little position he was given as PoW. But now that he's King he doesn't want to be like Elizabeth in that way. He realizes that he will have a short reign and needs to get William ready for the crown not just his position of PoW. A crash course if you will.
I can see this but I'm not sure I agree. It's definitely a sympathetic look at Charles, one that's absolutely worthwhile to consider, but It's not what I see when I look at it.
My sense is that The Queen felt her parents' "just us four" approach to family was ideal for raising heir and spare, where the duty is family with country coming later. It was how she was raised, it was what she had for a little bit with Philip, Charles, and Anne as Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, and it was what she wanted for Charles, Diana, William, and Harry but I don't think Charles wanted that for his family. Obviously we know what happened in the Waleses' marriage so perhaps when William and Kate began planning, she supported "just us four" knowing that family needed to be the heart of the monarchy, rather than work.
And my sense is Charles was happy to go along with William's focusing on his family because with William away in Norfolk, Charles could spend more time as a "shadow king" without having to worry about the public being as vocal for their support (and admiration) of William. Don't forget, this was around the time that Charles and Andrew were pairing up to push Geidt out and install Young instead - truly the work of a shadow king, IMO.
We do know The Queen was mentoring William, as he spoke about it a bit, so we do know that William has been getting some kind of education in monarchy so the crash course from Charles isn't necessary. At most, Charles should be continuing the training. "Leveling up," if you will, since William (and Kate) received the fundamentals from The Queen and Philip. Did/is Charles continue/continuing that? I'm not sure.
Personally I don't see Charles mentoring William in that way, not after the way BP insisted Charles wouldn't call on the Counsellors of State to assist after his cancer diagnosis was announced. That doesn't strike me as someone interested in teaching, but someone who'd rather hoard - but perhaps that was Charles doing a kindness so William could stay with Kate. Because if it had been announced Charles was calling on the Counsellors of State, but it was Anne and Edward showing up with William MIA, who knows what would've happened.
I think where I disagree with you, anon, is that Charles wants to rule differently than The Queen. I think Charles wanted The Queen to share duties with him in the name of modernizing because she had done it independently her way for so long and he was tired of being "the backup" but he had every intent to keep William waiting in the wings as long as he could. and I think some of that reluctance has been made visible over the years. But much like external forces required The Queen to begin letting Charles "in" (age, Philip's retirement, the pandemic, her own illness, Philip's death), external forces have required Charles to bring William in earlier than he expected (the Sussexes, cash-for-honors scandals, and Charles's own cancer).
I also disagree that William needed a crash course for monarchy/the crown. As mentioned earlier, William was getting that from The Queen. He didn't need a crash course on being the Prince of Wales either, because it's the same work he did as The Duke of Cambridge (i.e., The Royal Foundation and its humanitarian-focused charitywork) just with a different title.
What William needed, and which Charles could give him, was a crash course for being the Duke of Cornwall. There isn't a whole lot on the record of William undertaking any preparations or receiving any kind of mentoring or instruction or access from Charles. Yes, William took some courses, but that's all we know. That's where Charles could be an asset to William, but again - it just looks like Charles kept a close, firm control on his work because he didn't want to share. And again, that's just the public perception; we don't know what the actual conversations were behind closed doors.
Sorry for the rambling. It's Sunday. I definitely lost the plot somewhere in here.
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would you maybe write some daryl fluff? maybe reader is carols adopted daughter (20ish years old)
daryl comforting reader after henry and how carol acted in the tunnel? maybe r sees carol taking pills n stuff. idk just daryl maybe talking to carol “what about her? henry’s gone but she’s still here!” just daryl sticking up for reader and hugging her n looking after her while carols off.
~•♡•~ What One Has
➳ Summary: Following the Savior war, Carol took you and Henry in as her adoptive children. But through the events of the Whisperer war, your relationship with her became sort of estranged; at least you had Daryl looking out for you (Daryl + Fem!Reader)
➳ Setting: Post Whisperer war, around 10x18 + 10x21
➳ Word count: 1.9k
➳ C/W: Mentions of pike scene
➳ A/N: Ima be so fr, I struggled writing this, I think because I wasn't quite sure what direction I wanted to go but I needa stop sittin on this n I hope you like it nonetheless anon 😭🫶 Hopefully now that opening day at my job has passed I can refocus on writing (and hopefully we never have a day like that ever again cuz someone dropping and coding in front of me was not in any of my expectations 🗿)
Daryl groaned an exhale and shifted in his blankets, rolling over onto his back with a clenched fist resting on his forehead. Darkness shrouded his room in the basement, Dog curled up close to him no matter how many times he tried to ward the canine off from dirtying the plush couch by sleeping on it too.
Despite the threat of the Whisperers eliminated, and what he could only hope would be some time for rest, he didn't rest. Sleeping never proved easier no matter how many times a conflict was eased: he knew more would always follow. Especially now, where the repercussions of Alpha and her actions were so grave it shook foundations he'd prayed would stay stable.
The archer threw back his covers, picking himself from the makeshift bed and finding a shirt he'd earlier thrown aside, and a pack of cigarettes set on the edge of his workbench. He tisked at Dog, instructing him to stay while he quietly existed from the cellar, carefully ascended the stairs and opened the front door to head outside and smoke.
Closing it and throwing his head back to clear the messied hair from his face, he paused at the figure already occupying the right side of the steps. In the faint glow of moonlight, he recognized you despite your hunched posture, seemingly trying to obscure yourself.
“Why ya out ‘ere?”
“Same reason you are.”
It was a rhetorical question, really. He knew why, who this was about. It wasn't the first time he'd found you awake in the night as he was, having become an increasing commonality over the past 10 months since you moved here, and increasingly concerning.
Daryl stuffed the pack away in his pocket, coming to sit near you on the opposite end of the step, propping his elbows on his thighs. “Ya won’ talk ‘bout it?”
“It's not really gonna make a difference,” You replied, head bowed to stare at the wooden planks in front of you, twisting a loose thread you'd plucked from your jeans between your fingers.
“Could. Least yer not carryin’ it by yerself,” He tried to persuade you. Although he was guilty of doing it himself, his conscience didn't sit well with knowing those close to him were lost in their own minds like he so often was. Especially you, who he not only cared about, but had cared for. “C'mon, ‘m listening.”
You heaved an uneasy sigh, reluctantly accepting that he was right. He felt like the only person you had at this point. “I miss her.”
Daryl's head turned a bit so his gaze could flick to you then shifted back, nodding – more to himself – understandingly.
“And it's so weird because she's, what… 30 feet away from me right now? Maybe less? But she feels even further than she did when she just up and left to go on that boat.” You paused for a moment, coaching yourself through your breaths and not allowing them to grow erratic. “I thought, maybe after everything at the tower, she'd warm back up to me again. But I feel like the… thing, wore her raw, and then the blizzard froze her so solid she won't thaw back out.”
The man stayed silent, taking in your every word but knowing to speak now would halt the tracing of your thoughts; hinder you from fully opening up.
“Does she think because I'm grown it doesn't have a major effect on me? Henry wasn't just her son, he was like my brother. Families are supposed to be there for each other when you lose someone– and, and then I almost lost her too. I mean, you remember all the pills; how she never left her room. I could hear her some nights, just talking to herself. She was talking to something that wasn't real more than she talked to me!”
Now you were struggling, that choking feeling tightened around your throat and broke some of your words, mask slipping as the weight of everything started to collapse in on you just like– “And the cave. I… I'd never been more scared in my life, being in there with you guys. There's so many times I thought I was gonna die but nothing scared me like that. I still hear all the walkers sometimes, how she screamed, the sound of that dynamite going off. I still feel like I'm coated in dust just–... What was she thinking? I was right next to her. It's like I was invisible, or erased from her memory, and all she remembers is Henry.”
Daryl pulled you to him before you'd even realized you were crying, holding your stiff body against his, and through a few sobs, feeling you relax and give in. His strong arm wrapped around you was the most secure you'd felt in a long time.
“Shhh… s'alrigh’. ‘M ‘ere.” Soothing words were few and simple, but they were what you needed; the reminder that someone saw you, remembered you, and took account for your feelings in all of this.
You scooted closer to him, further tucking your head into his chest as if you were trying to finally find a moment of peace by escaping into his embrace. Daryl rubbed his palm over your shoulder, doing nothing but just being there for you.
A moment passed and you recomposed yourself to some extent, shuffling away with a sniffle while he loosened the hug. His eyes caught yours for just a second, seeing so much of himself reflected in your irises.
“Sorry, didn't mean to…” You trailed off while rubbing your face with the back of your hand, ridding the salty streaks from your skin and gesturing. You turned away, embarrassed from your venting and finding it hard to face him.
“Don't. Whole point'ah talkin’ is so ya ain't bottlin’ allat to yerself.” He quieted again, casting his gaze to you then up to the sky as he fidgeted with his hands. “Had a brother too; from before. Was an asshole, but still ma brother.”
You perked up a little, following his line of sight to the black above you. “What happened?..”
“Wa'salways gettin’ stuck with tha wrong people; last time jus’ cost ‘em. Happened bouta year into this; had tah put ‘em down mahself.”
“I'm sorry…” You swallowed and unsurely nibbled on the gummy flesh of your cheek. Was there ever really a right way to respond to that kind of thing?
“Ts'fine, long time ago. Point is I get how it is tah lose family like tha’, ‘nd ‘ll always listen when ya need it. Ya got me.”
“Thank you… for everything; bein’ there every time you already have. I really appreciate it, Daryl.” Truthfully, you'd flat out needed it. He'd remained a constant when all else altered. “I just don't know what to do anymore. Dad's been so distant too, and if I'm gonna lose him to cancer... I'll need her there for that.”
You licked your lips, taking a shaky inhale and biting your tongue a bit. “Sometimes I feel like all she sees when she looks at me is my head on a pike too.”
Daryl's jaw tensed, fearing you'd confess something like that. “‘Ll talk to ‘er.”
“No, you don't have to do that. I know you two are already–”
“Nah. ‘M gonna. Ya shouldn't ever think somethin’ like tha’. She still cares ‘bout ya: ts'jus’ hard for ‘er, been through a lot.” He gave a gentle squeeze to your shoulder before removing his hand. “She loves ya. Get sum rest.”
You nodded faintly, taking another breath to gather yourself and lifting from the spot to retreat inside, leaving the man to his own solemn nature.
❥-》》—————➣
Daryl often wondered if some things were worth it, this included; begrudgingly agreeing to let Carol tag along with him on what was meant to be a hunt, yet tracing paths back to that long abandoned cabin he would've preferred to add ‘forgotten’ in the title of.
He damned Dog for leading him back there, but figured something was going to push out the full story regarding how he spent all those years in the forest – and at least it opened the conversation for more important ones that needed to be had.
It wasn't ideal; borderline arguing with the woman he'd so casually dubbed his ‘best friend’, who'd been there when he needed her and vice versa. It hurt, but it wasn't all she hurt him for, and he was far from the only one she did.
“I'm sorry for Connie,” She spoke, head bowed and pursing her lips to shove back the tears that gathered in her waterlines. “But I'm not sorry for going after the horde and I'm not sorry for making Alpha pay for killing Henry because I was right.”
“‘Nd tha's all tha’ matters; you bein’ right, huh?” Daryl angled to look at her, keeping his forearm braced against the wooden post. She questioned the depth of his motivations, and he shook his head disapprovingly.
“Ts'ain't all about ‘em, ‘ts barely ‘bout me. ‘Ts ‘bout'cher damn kid; tha one ya still got.” They met eyes for a moment before hers shot away, shamefully avoiding the confrontation. “Ya think ‘bout ‘er in all this? Tha’ what you lost, she lost too? Ya know feels like she lost you? Tha’ she don’ sleep much anymore, misses you like yer already gone, ‘cause ya might as well be … Ya still have ‘er, ‘ts sum’thin’ we can't say fer a lotta people, so quit actin’ like ya don't.”
A painful silence settled, clawing at the both of them as he pivoted away and focused out the dirtied glass plane ahead of him. The archer bit back further words, part of him regretting the harshness of such even though it felt required.
“Ya shouldn'tah come.”; brought Carol's sharper attention back, sparking meaner accusations and disclosures between them – predominantly on Daryl's part – regarding their situations.
She turned around, drifting fingertips over the structuring of the cabin's foundation and sniffling before muttering a few things more and trailing into the other room.
Tension hung heavy enough to keep it mostly quiet, even as they later parted ways while returning to Alexandria, forced through seeming trials; Daryl with his motorcycle, and Carol while attempting to cook.
Once he finally got that damn bike working and rode home, he stifled a chuckle at how the silver-haired woman stood there, disheveled appearance matching his own. The man appreciatively declined her offer for soup, exhausted from his troubles and preferring to just go lay down with Dog.
He followed the shepherd round the house to enter through the front door, watching the cheerful wagging of his tail as he padded across the hardwood and down steps to the basement.
Daryl readjusted his crossbows strap around his shoulder, brushing back his hair before descending. He picked up Carol's voice in the distance, sequenced by yours, and paused to shift his vision for just a quick glance; you perched against the kitchen counter, bowls on the surface, and for the first time in a while, a genuine smile on your face as the older woman came up beside you.
His own tugged the slightest bit at one side of his mouth, satisfied with the apparent reconnecting. He continued his action, setting his things down in his room before partially undressing and flopping back on that couch.
Even if his relationship with Carol remained rocky, granting some stability to yours was enough for him. That was worth it.
©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x you#the walking dead#twd#daryl dixon imagine#daryldixon#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon headcanon#norman reedus#normanreedus#twd daryl dixon#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon fluff#the walking dead daryl#the walking dead fanfiction#daryl drabbles#daryl fanfiction#daryl fluff#twd daryl#daryl dixion imagine#daryl x female reader#daryl x reader#twd fanfiction#norman reedus x reader#daryl imagines
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How is people pointing out the atrocities committed by the IDF/IOF whatever the hell they are immediately labeled “allies of Hamas” when ya’ll constantly always use the whole “you can disagree with the actions of others” excuse to justify why Israel does whatever they do
Please point out where I have ever said that. It's honestly pretty tiring getting asks where people try to put words in my mouth that I have never said.
What you can find on many posts on my blog is me saying that I myself do not agree with the actions of the Israeli Government or the IDF and that you can criticize the Israeli government and IDF without being antisemitic which a lot of people fail at doing.
A lot of "criticisms" come from modern day blood libel where people will straight up say an antisemitic trope and swap out jew for zionists or Israel and that is not okay. Changing jew to zionists or Israel or anything similar does not remove the fact that it's still an antisemitic trope being used towards either half of the world's jews (as half live in Israel) or towards 80% of jews (as 80% of jews believe in some form of zionism, the most popular form amongst jews is a peaceful two state solution)
Another from of antisemitism which is masked as "criticism" is when people will only say something is bad if Israel does it yet is fine with any other country doing it. This is antisemitism as why is something only bad when the only jewish state in the world does it?
If a criticism does not fall into either group, then it's not antisemitism.
I also have not labeled everyone as "allies of hamas" what you are thinking about is when I have replied to anons and people saying they are riding hamas's dick or have drunk the hamas koolaid. This is simply me calling out people who are falling for hamas propaganda. Microsoft literally did a report earlier this year on Iran pushing pro hamas propaganda online and getting a lot of engagements. You can search the research findings yourself online as it's free to view.
Whilst I do understand that my replies can be harsh, from my perspective, I am getting a lot of asks, a lot of which I just delete and do not answer, of people who do not understand the basic concepts I have explained here and also like to do the whole "oh you only post about pancakes, you must hate waffles" thing. And it gets tiring and annoying. I do get fed up with people who do not understand nuance when it comes to things or that I might only focus on the Jewish and Israeli side of things because there are already so many great voices there speaking out for Palestine. Adding my voice won't do much more for palestine so instead I lend it back to my community, trying to fight antisemitism and xenophobia.
And the thing is, antisemitism deserve to be spoken about. It deserves blogs which only speak about it or is the main focus. I've experienced a lot of it in my life. I'm not gonna just trauma dump right now but I have been hate crimed before. It was not fun. And when I see levels of antisemitism which is worse than during the time I was hate crimed and a lot of the rhetoric being said that I was hate crimed for, I can't help but to not want to lend my voice to speak out about antisemitism.
Onto your last point, I have never justified any Palestinian civilians deaths. The closest I have ever gotten to it was on a post talking about the hostages where I say it is a difficult situation as Palestinian civilians have died during the hostages rescue and that Palestinian and Jewish and Israeli lives are all equal in value. And that its also hard because if the hostages were not rescued, they would likely have been killed at some point in the future and it's just a hard situation as my heart goes out to all the Palestinians who died that day as well as that I am happy that 4 hostages are home. In that post I also mentioned that my ideal scenario is no one dead, both in the operation and in the war in general and for everyone to be safe.
The other thing which I get a lot of anons about is whenever I bring up the war crimes done by hamas, such as in that same post about the hostages, I mentioned how it is a war crime for hamas to have the hostages in a civilian area and that in the eyes of international law, those Palestinian deaths are due to Hamas.
I honestly don't think that either of those things is justifying the IDFs actions. What I do think is that you, and so many others are afraid of nuance. As soon as someone like myself goes "these are all the factors at play and it sucks that things have turned out as they have" and not "idf bad no nuance ever" you get uncomfortable. And its fine to be uncomfortable. But what isn't okay is taking that feeling of uncomfortableness and directing it into misreading jews online to try and feel secure in your world view again.
I honestly hope that you have read all of this, as I know it's a long post, and you consider everything I have said.
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Azutara #36 please
Hello, anon!! Thanks for the ask!
#36 - living in a society where their love is taboo AU
Thanks to @ragzonacamrencruise for helping me come up with a taboo idea for this mini fic.
Opposite elements didn’t mix.
It was a simple rule and one that had been around since before anyone could remember. Fire and Water didn’t mix and earth and air didn’t mix. Because of this, it was frowned upon, illegal in some areas, for those belonging to opposite elements to be in a relationship together. Some limited their views to only benders, but others were very vocal about their believe that if someone was born in the Earth Kingdom they should have no romantic relation with someone in from the Air Temples.
Fire Lords before Zuko all seemed to share this belief as well, advocating that no one in the Fire Nation should have any partner from the Water Tribe. Zuko had never cared much about the law, seeing as how his partner was from the Fire Nation, and he assumed Azula didn’t care either.
Yeah. He was wrong about that one. Zuko just wished he didn’t have to find out by accidentally seeing his sister and friend meeting up in secret in the garden.
It wasn’t uncommon for Zuko to move around the palace on the roofs. Sue him. He liked having the small bit of time to himself and to move freely instead of having at least five guards around him and two servants by his side. Those quiet and beautiful nights were some of the most peaceful moments he got. Then, one night, he heard Azula’s voice and, naturally, made his way towards her to see what she was doing out so late.
“If you keep talking you’re going to get us discovered.” Azula warned.
“Says the one who’s talking right now.” Another voice, a woman, added, laughing a little, “You’re sure no one is around?”
“Positive. Zuko’s asleep, the servants and guards have been dismissed and no one patrols the garden this late.” Azula promised, “We’re completely alone except for the turtleducks.”
Zuko’s eyes grew when he saw Katara step into his view, “They can stay. I don’t think they’ll tell anyone about us.” The waterbender smiled and wrapped her arms around Azula, kissing the princess passionately.
“Have I told you recently how absolutely amazing it is having you as my girlfriend?” Azula asked.
“Yes, but I always love hearing it more.” Katara leaned her forehead against Azula’s, “I love you, Azula.” Her voice was soft but Zuko definitely heard that.
“I…lo…I mean-“ Katara only giggled, kissing Azula again.
“I know what you mean.” That was too quiet for Zuko to hear but he decided to hide himself when their kissing showed no sign of stopping.
Zuko instantly hide himself from sight. His brain going a hundred miles an hour. Azula and Katara???? He would never have guessed. But…but Azula knew that was against the law. Fire Nationals weren’t allowed to be in relationships with people from the Water Tribe. Not that Zuko was about to go down there and bust them, but he was curious about what could have caused Azula to go against the law.
He’d have to talk to her tomorrow if he really wanted answers.
—————————————
“Azula?” Zuko asked.
Azula turned from her seat at her desk, where she was working on some papers he has asked her to fill out, and looked up at him, giving her brother her full attention, “You okay, Zuko? You look nervous.”
Zuko shut the door behind him, “I am nervous.”
“Why?” Azula’s eyes narrowed.
“I saw you yesterday.”
“….Okay?” Azula was either playing dumb or he wasn’t being clear enough, “I saw you yesterday too. Did you hit your head, Zuzu? You know there is such a thing as too many hits to the head.”
“Azula, I saw you with Katara in the garden and heard you.” Zuko watched as Azula’s eyes grew only for half a second then returned to unmoved. Her face slipped, if only for less than half a second, and that was all Zuko needed for confirmation, “You and Katara???”
“Don’t say it so loud.” Azula snapped, grabbing him and dragging him out to the balcony where no one would hear them, “Do you want me banished?”
“What?! No! Why would I want that?!”
“I just assumed based on you announcing to the world that I’m in a relationship with someone from the Water Tribe.” Azula growled. Right. The punishment for breaking the law was banishment.
“Azula, I…”
“Think I’m a freak? Think there’s something wrong with me that I would choose a partner from my opposite element?” Azula asked. Her tone made it seem like she expected him to hate her now. All that did was make Zuko’s face drop.
“No. No, I don’t think that at all. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. You know how people will react if they find out-“
“No one will find out. Katara and I are careful. We only meet at night, away from everyone and, when we do meet up during the day, we’re incredibly careful to not be suspected.” Azula explained, “We both know the risk, Zuzu. The Southern Water Tribe isn’t as strict with this law as we are, but Katara is still facing banishment if people find out about us. Especially because it’s me.”
“What do you mean?” Zuko asked.
“If Katara had just met some random Fire Nation peasant girl on her travels and got together with her, the tribe wouldn’t have been pleased and she might have faced social isolation but they wouldn’t kick her out of the tribe or keep her from participating in activities. Since she’s dating the Princess of the Fire Nation, Katara not only has betrayed her element by being with me but all the people who lost their lives to the Fire Nation.” Azula leaned over the balcony, letting the wind gently hit her hair to calm her down.
“Katara can’t blame you-“
“Katara blames me for nothing. It’s the older warriors in the tribe, who have done nothing but fight their whole lives, who would advocate for her banishment.” Azula told him, “We’re careful, Zuko, and we know the risks.”
“Good. I just wanted to tell you that and…that you do have a friend now.” Zuko smiled at Azula, “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Thank you, Zuzu.” After the two broke apart from their hug, Zuko took the opportunity for some fun.
“Now here’s my big question. How did you get Katara? Did you hit her over the head or bribe her or…”
“Ha-Ha. Hilarious.” Even with the joke being at her expense, Azula cracked a smile at her older brother’s antics.
“You must tell me your secret, Lala.” Zuko laughed, “You somehow got a girlfriend whose previous partner was the Avatar.”
“I happen to think I’m a better catch than the Avatar. Thank you very much.” Zuko winced and shook his hand back and forth, earning him a hit in the shoulder, "What happened to the friendly sibling relationship you promised the therapist you'd try at?"
"I'm no expert but I think this is a nice, normal sibling relationship. At least it's better than the days when you used to try and kill me."
"Hey! I never tried to kill you. I tried to capture you. There's a difference."
"Ah, yes, my mistake." Zuko chuckled, leaning against the railing and letting out a breath, "I'm really happy for you, Zula. You and Katara."
"Thank you."
------------------------------
"What do you mean Zuko knows?" Katara asked.
"Exactly that. Zuko knows we're dating." Azula repeated.
"What now? Do we have to break up? Do you have to leave the Fire Nation?" Azula shook her head, sitting down on her bed next to her girlfriend.
"No. He's actually okay with it."
"Really?” True Katara hadn’t expected Zuko to blow up at Azula and demand she leave—her asking before has really been a worst case scenario fear—but he was really completely okay with it?
“I was just as surprised as you are, but he really doesn’t have any problem with us dating. We just have to keep it secret.”
“So basically what we’ve been doing?”
“Pretty much except maybe a little more secret since Zuko did find out.”
Katara rolled her eyes, “Zuko is the Blue Spirit. I don’t think we have to worry about servants or nobles on the roof whenever we want a romantic night in the garden.”
“You mean you haven’t heard about how our servants travel on the roof all the time?” Azula asked, very clearly joking.
“I guess I missed that fact, but seriously, are we okay?” Katara asked, “I don’t want you to risk banishment for me, Azula.” Azula gave Katara a weak smile when her girlfriend moved her face away from Azula’s.
“I told you when we started dating. I’m okay with that risk.” Azula said, “I want to be with you. No matter what the possible penalty is.” She gently pushed Katara’s chin so that she was looking at her and kissed her girlfriend, “I…I lo…”
“I know.” Katara whispered, “I love you too, Azula, so, so much.” The collided in another kiss, sinking into the bed while the rest of the palace, even the guards outside, were none the wiser.
————————————
Two months passed after Zuko discovered them and nothing changed. Katara and Azula kept a low profile. In fact, many were sure the two hated one another which made Zuko almost laugh but he forced his laughter down. Eventually, the two decided to tell Mai, Ty Lee and Sokka about their relationship.
“You and you?!?” Sokka yelled, pointing between Katara and Azula, “Kat, you…you do know she’s-“
“I know she’s Fire Nation and I’m Water Tribe and I don’t care. I love her, Sokka.” Katara’s use of the word love made both Mai and Ty Lee’s eyes grow.
“Wow.” Sokka whispered, “So, how long have you two been together?”
“A year now.” Katara told him, “We got together shortly after the war when I went over to the palace to help heal her.” Azula took Katara’s hand in hers, “We both got to talking and realized we had a lot in common. Then, one night, Azula threw her face at mine and we kissed-
“I tripped!” Azula snapped, “You’re very messy sometimes, Tara.”
“You tripped? You tripped while we were both sitting on your bed?” Katara asked.
“I had gotten up to get something, came back, tripped and fell on Katara and, by accident, our lips touched.” Azula explained.
“Okay. Who were believes my story that Azula just stopped caring for long enough to kiss me?” Katara asked.
Everyone raised their hands.
“You’re all traitors.” Azula grumbled.
“But I’m very happy you did that, Zula. I don’t know if I would have been brave enough to make the first move.” Katara said, nuzzling Azula’s neck and making Azula practically melt.
“You certainly weren’t with Aang.” Sokka whispered, earning a hit of water right to the face.
“So, who all knows?” Mai asked.
“Just you guys but we’re trying to tell more people.” Katara admitted, “We just want to make sure we’re telling people we can trust first.”
“That’s a good idea.” Sokka nodded, “I don’t know how much dad could protect you if people found out about you and Azula.”
“Thanks for the confidence, Sokka.” Katara mumbled, “Don’t worry. Azula and I are careful not to be noticed. We made it a year and no one knew.”
“That’s impressive.” Ty Lee admitted, “How did you hide it for so long? I was sure you two hated each other.”
“We always just kept everything behind closed doors and, when we needed to fake an argument, we just found something random to argue about.” Azula shrugged, “And since Katara and myself are amazing actresses, no one ever suspect us.”
“You guys fooled me.” Ty Lee said.
“And me.”
“And me.”
“Not me.” Everyone looked at Mai.
“We fooled you.” Azula argued, “You just don’t want to admit it.”
“I’ve known for the past nine months that you two have been dating. I couldn’t sleep one night so I went for a walk and found you and Katara sneaking into the garden with food then you started kissing.”
“If you knew then why didn’t you say anything?” Azula demanded.
“Not my place.” Mai shrugged, “Plus, you two seemed really happy keeping it secret. I thought you’d be more comfortable if you kept believing that no one knew.” She calmly explained.
“Thank you, Mai.” Katara whispered.
“See, Zuzu? This is how you should have handled discovering our relationship.” Azula said.
“Not said a word and hope you two don’t get caught?” Zuko asked.
“Exactly!”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“A ridiculous person who can still kick your butt whenever I want.” Azula grinned.
“That’s not what the crown says.” Zuko said, standing up.
“The crown you only got because of Katara.”
“You fired at her!”
“You brought her!”
By this point in their relationship, no one was really all that scared when the two started arguing about the Agni Kai. They knew Zuko and Azula mostly did it for laughs and never really meant any harm when they started arguing about it. Over a year in therapy together really did do wonders.
“Let’s go. This could go on a while.” Sokka sighed.
“You guys feel like pig-cow for dinner?” Ty Lee asked.
“Oh! Yes! I know this great place in town!”
If only the group had noticed a pair of eyes that had been watching them during their entire conversation.
—————————————
Azula’s eyes slowly opened, allowing her to take in the sight of her room covered in the morning light. Thanks to Katara, she wasn’t really waking up at dawn anymore but still got up early. That morning, like most mornings, she could feel her girlfriend’s arm around her body.
“Katara.” Azula whispered, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Katara yawned and stretched her body, “We should have a lazy day. Just you and me.”
“That would be perfect but you know I have meetings.” Azula said.
“Why do you have to be princess and Zuko’s advisor?” Katara asked, resting her head on Azula’s chest.
“I don’t know, but I do know that I have to get up. What will you do this morning?”
“Probably a walk around town, then I need to send letters to me father and-“
The doors suddenly slammed open. Katara and Azula, thanks to years at war, sat up quickly and got fire and water ready to use against the attackers but there were no attackers. Just Hakoda, who did not look happy.
“Katara?” Hakoda asked.
“Dad?” Katara quickly realized she wasn’t really wearing a lot of clothes and grabbed a blanket to cover herself with. Hakoda took his own light jacket off, which he always had with him, and wrapped it around his daughter, “Dad. What are you doing here?”
“I was told my daughter had something to tell me. I think I can guess what it is.” Hakoda growled, looking at Azula, who was also now pretty embarrassed to be caught in a situation like this but especially so wearing only the barest of clothing.
“Sir, we-“
Hakoda cut Azula off, “You stay away from my daughter! I don’t want you anywhere near her or I will throw you into the ocean!” Azula wasn't all that afraid of Hakoda but having a grown man yell at her did remind her a lot of Ozai. Involuntarily, she winced and backed up, flames dancing on her finger tips in case she had to defend herself.
“Dad! Don’t talk to Azula like that!” Katara yelled, “I love her!”
“No, you don’t. You’re confused and attaching yourself to the first person you could find after Aang. A few months in the South Pole will-“
Katara's face twisted into disgust at her father's words, “No!” Katara yelled, going to Azula’s side, “I’m not confused and I’m not just dating Azula because of connivence. I. Love. Her!”
“Katara, sweetie,” Hakoda’s voice changed to one that sounded more calm and understanding, “I came here because word has already spread to the Water Tribe that you and Azula are together."
"What!? How do they know?" Katara asked.
Hakoda only shrugged. It didn't matter how they knew now. All that mattered was that this did know, "The council is very upset by your choice to date the Princess of the Fire Nation and-
"Let me guess. They want me banished." Hakoda could only nod.
“I’d rather be banished than not stay with Azula.” Katara’s declaration made the room go quiet, but Katara continued and turned towards her girlfriend, “Azula, you don’t have to feel the same way. You can say whatever you need to to-"
“I love you.” Azula whispered, “I want to stay with you too. No matter what.” Tears of joy filled Katara's eyes when she went to kiss Azula.
"So what now?" Katara asked.
"Now you two should leave." Hakoda sighed, "Zuko is doing every he can, but it will probably be best if you both disappear for a while." The two nodded.
"You won't try and stop us?" Katara asked.
"I came because I thought there was a way to keep you in the Southern Water Tribe, a way to make this all go away, but...but you clearly love Azula. I know that when I lost Kya I never forgave the person who took her away from me. I'd hate myself if I was the person who took you away from Azula." Katara offered her dad a hug, feeling his arms wrap tightly around her.
"We'll send a letter when we find a safe place."
"Good. I'll tell Zuko about what you two decided to do. Promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise."
Hakoda then turned his head towards Azula, "And promise me you'll protect her."
"I will." Azula nodded.
An hour later, Azula and Katara had snuck out of the palace and were on their way to the docks with hoods over their heads to avoid being recognized.
"Regret dating me yet?" Katara asked.
Azula only offered her girlfriend a smirk and a kiss on the lips, "Not for a second."
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When the Parents aren't Home
Gif credit to davinaclaires
James Beaufort x Ruby Bell
Warning: 18+ DO NOT INTERACT. SUGGESTIVE/SEXUAL MATERIAL
Attempt at soft!Dom James Beaufort x Ruby Bell. Not a whole lot of smut, but there is a small amount. Sorry if it's not exactly what was wanted by the Anon who had requested it.
Ruby sat on James’ bed, surprised that she was even here to begin with. Being in the Beauforts manor was never something she expected, but alas, here she was, in James' room in the very same manor.
Her eyes trailed around the room, hearing the flushing of the toilet as James finished in the bathroom. Ruby took in the desk on one side of the room. Papers and some books littered it, with a lamp and some pencils and pens in a holder. James was a tidy person, much tidier than Ruby had first expected. There weren't a lot of decorations in his room, and that much, Ruby had expected. Some plants littered the window sills. He had a bookshelf with a few books on them with some picture frames of him and his family sitting on it.
Ruby stood up, taking a few small steps over to the bookshelf. Her eyes moved over the titles of books for a few brief seconds. Fingers traced over the spine of the books, letting out a small sigh as her eyes drifted up to the pictures. Most of them were of him and his sister, but a few showed his parents as well.
Ruby was so focused on the photos that she didn't notice James behind her. His hands came up to settle on her waist, causing her to jump.
“Sorry.” His voice was quiet, and his lips attached to her neck. Ruby tilted her neck to give him better access, her eyes falling closed, the pictures now forgotten.
“You're forgiven.” She breathed out. Ruby let herself fall back into him, his arms coming around yo wrap fully around her waist.
James bit her shoulder softly, pressed a soothing kiss to it and nestled his face into her neck.
“You should strip your clothes.” He whispered. Ruby pulled away slightly to look into his face. He peeked up at her from underneath his eyelashes, but it didn't change the look in his eyes. James wasn't asking. He was demanding.
Ruby swallowed, before doing as he asked. She slowly started to undress, making it a show for him. Starting with the button up, she slowly undid each button, staring directly at James as she did so, taking in his actions and attitude. He didn’t attempt to touch himself or her as she let the button up fall.
“Leave the bra.” He added, almost too quickly, just as her hands came up behind it to touch it. “I want to be the one.” She listened, her hands instead falling to her pants, ridding her body of said apparel.
James sucked in a breath as he stared at her, taking in her appearance. He has seen her in such a way before, but he acts as if it's his first every time he does.
“Gorgeous.” The word fell from his lips as he undressed himself, before meeting her in just his boxers. His lips attached to her collar bone, pressing lazy kisses as his arms came up around her back, easily unhooking her bra. He let it fall, his hands coming and grabbing her breasts. James kissed her skin and touched where he could for a few moments, before he dropped to his knees. He looked up at her, his hands gently tracing up and down her thigh before he grabbed her panties, his fingers looping in them and pulling them down and allowing her to step out of them.
“On the bed.” James nodded towards it. Ruby watched as he stood up, a small smirk playing at her lips as she did as was asked. She crawled onto the bed, turning and laying on her back and locked eyes once more with James. His eyes watched her every move, biting his lip as his eyes drifted over her naked form, before finally meeting her gaze.
He stalked towards the bed, climbing onto it and moving so that he hovered over Ruby.
“Hey.” He spoke softly, a smile on his face.
“Hey.” Ruby matched his smile, before pulling him down to kiss him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down closer to her. He laid his weight on her, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks.
James loved her. His life depended on her, and if he could hold her in this moment forever, he would.
His lips moved down her jaw and along her neck, kissing softly. James had grabbed her hands holding them up and above her head, leaving hickies on her shoulder, and pressed kisses to the places where the bruises would form.
He looked up at her as he moved down her body, pressing kisses between her breasts and down her stomach. James went slow, drawing out the teasing, and by the impatient look In Ruby's eyes, he knew he was successful. He smirked, enjoying the moment.
“Having fun?” She asked. If it was possible, his smirk only grew larger.
“Maybe.” Ruby let out a huff, letting her head fall back against the bed in irritation. James watched her for a few seconds before his fingers moved down and started playing with her clit. He continued to press kisses to her navel.
Ruby let out a gasp, her hands moving down to tangle in his hair. He moved her hands off of him.
“No touching.” He stopped his own touching as he looked up at her, just in time to see another impatient look from Ruby. Oh, he was loving this. He flashed her a grin, showing teeth, before allowing his fingers to move again and moved his lips further down. He finally let his fingers slip inside of her, starting with slow thrusts as his thumb continued to rub against her clit. Ruby let out a few quiet whines, her hands fisting the sheets as she struggled not to tangle her fingers once again in James’ hair. He looked up at her, watching her as she writhed just at the small touches he was giving her. James picked up the pace, quickening the movements of his fingers, glancing down and watching as his fingers disappeared in and out of her. Her arousal coated his fingers and he let out a low groan, getting even more turned on at the sight of it.
James pressed a kiss above right where she wanted him most, before finally dipping down and letting his tongue meet her clit, He flicked his tongue against it a few times testing the waters and how she reacted. She gasped sharply, sucking in her breath before letting it out very shakily. Then her breathing picked up. James continued the movements of his fingers and tongue, continuing to watch as she further became unraveled beneath him. He enjoyed the sight of it all, even allowing himself some relief as he grinded into the bed, letting out his own moans as he ceased the movements of his tongue, pressing a kiss to her thigh briefly. The movements of his fingers stopped briefly as he pleasured himself against the bed, before he finally stopped his own movements and continued to pleasure her.
It only took a little bit longer of thrusting his fingers and flicking and sucking her clit with his tongue and mouth before her breathing grew heavier, and then she let go. Ruby let out whines and whimpers as her body shook, her back arching against the bed as James worked her through her orgasm. He took in the sight, marveling as he watched her unravel, until her body stilled and she laid there, breathing heavily and had finally turned her head towards him, a small but satisfied smile on her face.
“Oh, we aren’t done yet, sweetheart.”
James crawled back and hovered over her and grinded his hardened arousal into her. His hands moved down, pressing the tip of his cock to her pussy. He leaned over to whisper into her ear. “You’ve been a good girl. But continue to be one, and I’ll treat you like a queen.”
—-
James let Ruby lean back against him, the warm water flowing down their bodies. His hands wandered her body, massaging her thighs, shoulders, and waist. His lips trailed gently across her shoulders.
She let out a quiet sigh.
“Your parents will be back tomorrow afternoon?” She asked. He nodded into her shoulder.
“Yea. Me and Percy will take you home in the morning. I’ll be home before they do.” James answered. He reached over and grabbed the shampoo. It was men's shampoo, but it was all he had. He could easily put some in there for her and explain it was Lydia’s if it was ever found, but that too would also be weird, and he didn’t want to say it was Elaine’s. It would be a lie and feeding his parents lies that he might have liked her, when he did not.
James let the shampoo sit in his palm for a few seconds, before he finally lathered it into her hair, massaging her scalp. She let her head fall back, enjoying the touch. Not that she didn’t enjoy the way he touched her not too long ago, but this was also nice. Ruby let out a sigh of content.
As the two stood beneath the water, they took their turns washing each other. He washed her body, being gentle and massaging her body some more, before he had finally let her take over.
She had then taken her turn to wash his hair, lathering his hair with shampoo just as he had done it to her. While washing his body for him, although he had insisted on doing it himself, she had been a bit teasing herself. She had looked him in the eyes while closing him too close to a certain spot.
James had almost wanted to take her again right then and there but had kept himself together. After all, Ruby’s intentions were to rile him up. Tease him, in payment for the foreplay he did on her. However, he still gave her a warning look, as she gazed at him with a smirk present on her face.
Now, the two were back in his bed. Ruby was laying against his chest and James had both arms wrapped around her. She slept, while he laid there, wide awake, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. Her. His family. The family business. Such things that would not allow them to be together. But in this moment, as she laid in his arms, he refused to think of those, because in this moment, he had her, and he wanted to focus on her. James pressed a kiss to her forehead, before finally settling down to sleep.
---
taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @sillyfreakfanparty
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Homelander and spanking is giving me brainrot rn. Just imagine lightly smacking his ass throughout the day as a joke only for him to turn tables and go from 0 to 100 REAL quickly
18+, f!reader, spanking, dirty talk, inappropriate use of a conference room, p-in-v sex, cream pie.
The first time you slap Homelander's ass, it's a drive-by at work. It's quick, a sharp little smack with the back of your hand because he hasn't noticed his cape is pulled aside, hooked on a chair. No one he's standing with notices, but he whips his head around to look at you. You're already halfway down the hall, practically fleeing from him while grinning to yourself.
The two of you have been dating for a while. It's certainly the office's worst kept secret, but you both still like to play around as if no one knows.
It happens again that same day while the two of you are alone in The Seven's conference room, and this time it's a full on assault.
It's hardly your fault that when you drop your pen, he doesn't bend with his knees. Instead, he bends perfectly in half, acting the part of the ideal gentleman to pick up your pen. You reel both hands back, and clap him loudly on the ass, surprising even yourself with the sound it makes.
The look on his face when he whirls around on you makes you nearly scream with laughter, muffling it into both your hands.
"Okay," he says slowly, voice pitched so menacingly that you instantly turn on your heel, making a break for the closed door, but he catches you by the waist and yanks you right back. "You wanna play? Let's play."
"No! No! It was just a joke! I won't do it again!" You cry, writhing in his grip, still laughing.
"Nope. You started this, now I'm gonna finish it," he says, bending you over the table. He keeps you there with nothing more than a light hand on your lower back, and shamelessly flips your skirt up over your hips.
You gasp, whole body tensing up immediately. "Oh my god, hold on-"
The first crack of his gloved hand against your ass knocks the next words completely from your brain, swiftly emptying it. You expect that to be the end of it, a revenge beautifully executed.
Until he does it again.
This time, you moan.
The sound surprises both of you.
You feel your whole face flush, your stomach doing backflips. You reach back to push your skirt down, wildly embarrassed by how obscene the noise had been in your own ears.
However, Homelander doesn't let you up. Instead, he takes hold of your wrist and curls it behind your back, wringing another surprised noise from you. "Wh-what're you-"
He does it again. He's incredibly restrained, striking with such precision of strength, it's honestly a wonder. To your mortification, you can feel your clit beginning to throb. Holy fuck, this is turning you on fast. He delivers another sharp little smack, and then another. You clench your thighs together, panting out pitchy little breaths with every blow.
Homelander slides his hand up from the small of your back to the back of your neck, squeezing it. You can feel yourself beginning to soak your panties, ridiculously wet not only from the way he's spanking you, but from the ragged way you can hear him breathing. Knowing he's getting off on this as much as you are strikes a chord low in your belly.
"H-Homelander," you moan. Your ass is beginning to smart, hot to the touch. Even when he just rubs it, it feels absolutely electric.
"Jesus Christ," he growls, gritting the words out through his teeth.
The next thing you know, he lets go of your neck and you hear a distinctive metallic click. It's followed immediately by an audible shuffle of fabric, and then you feel him hook the crotch of your panties with his thumb, pulling the material aside.
You recognize the shape of the fat head of his cock pushing against your pussy immediately. It makes an obscene, wet noise upon contact, smearing not only your wetness, but his. He rocks his hips, grinds back and forth against you, trailing that wetness from your clit nearly all the way back to your ass.
"All this time," he breathes, voice rough, already wrecked with his own arousal. "You just wanted me to spank you, huh?"
You make a pleading little noise, spreading your legs further.
"Could'a just asked, sweetheart," he says, huffing a laugh. You can hear how he's restraining himself, forcing himself to go slow, keeping himself from shoving inside you all at once. He fucks lazily between the wet folds of your cunt, slowly driving you wild.
"C'mon," you urge, rocking back against him. "Fuck me," you say, but instead of moving him along any faster, all you get is another sharp slap to your ass.
"Say please," he chides.
"Please," you moan readily, knees quivering. "Please, please fuck me."
He grunts out a tight little "Fuck," and takes your hips in both hands as he finally lines himself up with your cunt. He moves slow, makes you pant and whine as he eases just the thick head of his cock into you. He rocks you back and forth with ease, like a toy, working himself gradually deeper.
You claw at the table, struggling to find purchase, but the glass is smooth and too wide, leaving you absolutely nothing to grip. You can't do anything but take it, moaning feverishly as he opens you up.
"Always take me so fucking good," he groans, halfway there now, savoring the way your walls cling to him. "Like you were made to."
"I was," you say, hands balled up into fists, panting condensation onto the glass table top. "I was made for you, feel so fucking good in me, oh fuck, fuck, my pussy's still shaped like you."
Those words snap something in him, cause him to jerk you back the rest of the way onto his cock. Your ass stings deliciously when he bottoms out against it, wringing another pitchy moan from you. You've always had the power to shatter his meticulously crafted control, and today is no exception.
You wanted him to fuck you, and you're going to get it.
Homelander fucks you in sharp, deep little bursts, barely leaving you, just grinding deeper and deeper until you feel the head of his cock bumping into the very core of you.
Abruptly, he pulls you up until your back is flush to his chest. He wraps one hand around your waist while the other goes right to your throat, lifting you clean off your feet, holding you tight while he mercilessly pounds into you.
You have no leverage, can't do anything but grab hold of his wrist with both hands, clinging to him. Your ass burns and your cunt fucking aches, and there's a pressure building in you so rapidly you feel like you're going to explode.
"I-I'm gonna come," you gasp wetly, tears gathering in your eyes from the sheer overwhelm of sensation. "H-Homelander, I'm gonna come, I'm-I'm gonna come!"
He just pumps his hips faster, buries his face in the crook of your neck and fucking bites into your shoulder. It surprises you so much you nearly scream, and with it, your climax hits you like a truck. Your whole body seizes up, an explosion of waves rolling through you. The euphoria is unbelievable, knocks the wind right out of your lungs and paralyzes you, leaves you unable to breathe while Homelander fucks you through it.
After one last hard slam, Homelander stills, spilling into you with a ragged, gasping moan. The heat and flood of it is so intense, you almost take it for a second orgasm, goosebumps erupting across your body all over again.
Slowly, gently, Homelander lowers you back down onto the table, covering your body with his.
The two of you stay like that for several long moments, both catching your breath, both equally shocked by the rate at which the situation had escalated.
Eventually, after a deep breath, you say, "So... I like spanking."
"Yeah," Homelander exhales, licking his lips. "Me too."
#oh my god where did this come from. that was filthy.#not me looking around the room after writing this like 'WHO DID THIS?'#sorry i didn't proofread it and i'm not going to#homelander x reader#homelander x you#darling anon#ask and you shall receive#my writing#smut
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i don't think people hcing charlie as transfem are trying to dismiss the transmasc charlie hc! i think it's more of a projection thing for a lot of people, since i know at least a few of the main people who enjoy the headcanon are transfem themselves!! i don't think you have much to worry about in terms of people dismissing the tmasc or other genderqueer charlie hc anyways, since it's already much more popular! i think you're perhaps being a bit too critical.
I've literally never said anything like this at all, I think you've either misinterpreted something else I've said or have the wrong blog.
All of my Charlie gender-based posts or reblogs I've stated/tagged that I think any interpretation of Charlie's gender can make sense, be it transmasculine, transfeminine, nonbinary, agender, whatever you want.
I am one of the ~3 blogs that has access to The Bathroom Problem script and who posted and pointed out that you can make out/slightly hear the Joyce cuts in the episode itself. I would not have excitedly shared that for open-interpretation if I was "worried" people are "dismissing" transmasc Charlie headcanons. (Which, again, I've literally never said, but in any case, I believe it's valid for anyone to dismiss a headcanon they don't agree with, fandom is a sandbox.)
What I personally don't care for are genderbends and, almost by extension, analysis/meta on canon scenes that rename/re-gender the characters with no basis (or, one that comes off wrong). Both topics I've literally never publicly spoken out against here, nor have I said anything bad/negative to everyone who personally enjoys these things, so there is no way for me to possibly be "too critical" in that regard. I keep most of my opinions to myself and my close mutuals, almost exactly for what you're saying: I personally don't want to harsh or dismiss anyone's headcanons.
I have never said, and have never meant to imply, that anyone interpreting Charlie as transfem is attempting to dismiss anyone else's headcanon (which again would be a non issue to me anyway).
#if youre coming here from a certain twitter post#which#mind you was a 3 deep reply to one specific mutual. aka not a public criticism#i believe you are incorrectly interpreting what my issue is#bc it is not about 'headcanon erasure'#and i did not post about it on this blog. never intended to. because im not trying to be critical or dismissive. im venting to mutuals#if youre saying i cant personally have an issue with something idk what to tell you lol. ok?#and if youre one of my mutuals who ive like#personally ranted to about these various things#idk that would be very random and kinda weird to come into my askbox on anon about this#my dms are always open to chat i like having critical and opposing conversations#anyway im not trying to win the charlie gender headcanon war i literally dgaf#i dont even talk about transmasc charlie much at all? so idk where that idea comes from#like im pretty seated in him being amab i just enjoy other peoples transmasc interpretations#im way too rooted in canon in actuality to care much about all this!#hence. why canon misinterpretation bugs me *personally*#ok im going to the back office to get drunk#ask
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