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marlenesluv · 2 days

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lando + dealing with his gf after cheating scandals

note: i do not view lando as a cheater in any way, shape, or form. but, amidst the new lando and magui rumors, i thought, “hmmm, what if these rumors circulated while he had a gf, aka reader, and it was because of lando and said gf not being public. so, mclaren needed pr for lando to be responsible, so they told him to go out with magui, EUGH, and yada yada you’ll get it!” also i changed locations and shit for the plot lol.

important note: it’s not okay to hate on magui, don’t do it. i don’t agree with what she’s done, but hate def isn’t the answer, especially with neither she, nor lando, gaf about what we have to say. i just used her since they have pics together so, you can imagine someone else if you’d like. the focus is lando x reader here :)

type: this is a head-cannon, but there’s mixes of smau.

pairing: lando norris x secret!gf!fem

warnings: angst but there’s fluff, dw

۵ being landos secret girlfriend was difficult at times.

۵ when you were alone at your shared house? easy. you could talk as loud as you wanted, cuddle on the couch for hours, you could be a real couple.

۵ but once lando left for the races, it’s like he was a stranger.

۵ you felt like a fan watching her crush on television. not a girlfriend.

۵ a girlfriend would be there, in person, supporting her boyfriend. she would be there in the paddock, just like lily was. watching alex and hugging him after a race. or like rebecca, smiling up at her boyfriend like he put the stars in the sky as he won a race.

۵ but you? you watched your boyfriend from the couch, working and making sure that he hadn’t crashed between emails.

۵ yeah, lando would text you and call you, but that’s not the same. not when all you want to do is be there for him in person.

۵ but you couldn’t. unfortunately, last time lando had a girlfriend they broke up. they broke up because of the fans. lando felt pressured to move quickly with her, and he didn’t really even want to date like that. he just wanted fun at the time.

۵ not with you, though. you were different. he loved you and knew from the second you two met at the bar that you were meant for him. he loved everything about you. and neither of you wanted fans or media to ruin it.

۵ but nothing everything is avoidable. hearts get broken, even when- no, especially when you least expect it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Liked by: f1wags, f1updates, and 72,194 others

f1wagupdates: update!! lando has been spotted today with magui corceiro in australia after the grand prix! fans saw they saw magui attend the race as well, and now the two and being seen hanging out? do we hear a new wag coming? a new couple?

view comments…

user4: i mean…she’s messy but ok

user1: she’s prettyyyy holy shit

user77: isn’t she friends with kika??

user25: yes!

user3: he doesn’t look happy….

user90: meh

user41: looks forced

user2: my mannnnn

user0: honestly, he needed a new gf. he’s been single foreverrrrr

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

۵ and after those headlines popped up, you were done for.

۵ tears? flowing. tissues? everywhere. landos calls? declined.

۵ you frankly didn’t want to talk to him. the mere idea of him cheating on you made you suck to your stomach.

۵ but maybe it made sense. he wanted a public relationship now…maybe?

۵ lando knew he should have told you. he knew he should have told you that mclaren told him o hangout with her to help pr. to make him seem responsible after the grand prix.

۵ lando knew he fucked up. and after not answering his texts and checking instagram and seeing the gossip posts, he knew why. the tags were insane, and he was stressing.

۵ the only girl he loved didn’t want to talk to him, and he was thousands of miles away.

۵ all because of a stupid pr stunt.

۵ lando booked a flight home as he sent a text to magui:

lando norris: hey, magui. i know this pr thing was supposed to last, but i’m done.

magui: oh…ok?

lando: sorry. can you book a flight for yourself?

magui: i’ll ask kika

magui: tell your girlfriend i’m sorry

lando: ???

magui: you obviously have one, lando. it’s fine. i’m sure she’s beautiful

lando: she is

*lando has blocked this number*

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Liked by: y/n.user, danielricciardo, and 1,925,105 others

landonorris: rumors are lame, so here’s the truth. i have a girlfriend, we’ve been dating for two years, and i love her with every fiber of my being. we’ve kept this relationship private for her safety and to go through everything as a pair, not in-front of the world. unfortunately, rumors spread, and they spread fast. but those rumors stem from mclaren pulling this pr move, one to make people think i was in a relationship to make me seem “responsible and mature.” whatever. i am, by the way. but i am in a relationship, not with magui though. i love you @y/n.user ❤️

view comments…

*only certain profiles can reply to this post*

y/n.user: oh my god. get home so i can smack you and then give you a kiss

landonorris: smack me??

y/n.user: you posted my TOES

oscarpiastri: double dates?

landonorris: well that’ll be thrilling

y/n.user: awwww that’s adorable yes

lilyzneimer: i just need to meet y/n too!!💞

danielricciardo: wow, he finally admits it

carlossainz55: i think everyone knew, mate. but ok!

charles_leclerc: congratulations! alex says she can’t wait to meet y/n!!

savnorris: bring her to christmas this year!!

landonorris: i will, don’t fret

olivernorris1: no one was “fretting”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

۵ lando loved you, and he had to prove it once his plane landed.

۵ cuddles for days, home cooked meals (to his best ability), movie nights, appreciation posts, etc.

۵ you moved on from the incident. you understood, especially after an explaining from zak, along with a run down of paddock rules.

۵ races were fun, you loved going and the fans loved you.

۵ oscar’s girlfriend, lily, was wonderful and you two got along perfect. so talking with her while lando and oscar races was nice.

۵ you weren’t fond of how you got here, but you were fond of being here.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

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holylulusworld · 2 days

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A gentle scent (2)

Summary: He’s your alpha now.

Written for @spnkinkevents SPN Omegaverse Week – Day 4 – Sunday, April 17 - Submissive Alpha and/or Dominant Omega

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, late bloomer, dirty talk, cocky reader, needy Dean, Beta turns out to be alpha, true mates, possessive omega

Word Count:

Catch up here: A gentle scent

SPN Omegaverse Week Masterlist

Eight months later, …

“She’s dead,” you growl low in your throat. “I will go over there and rip her throat out. Maybe I’ll make a nice puzzle out of her body parts.”

Sam inhales sharply. He already knows that you are very territorial when it comes to his brother, your mate, and newbie alpha. “Y/N, he only tries to get information from her. Dean would never cheat on you.”

You huff. “I trust Dean,” you roll your eyes at Sam’s comment. “This is about that woman putting her hand on my man’s bicep. She can scent me on him and still, that needy bitch touches what’s mine!”

“You’re a very possessive omega, huh?” Sam watches you clench and unclench your fists. “I’m not saying that this is a bad thing.”

“Stay out of our relationship,” you snap at Sam. “I’m protective, not possessive. Dean presented not eight months ago. He’s not used to omegas being all over him, or how to tame his alpha. My alpha needs a strong hand and guidance.”

Sam snorts. He never took his brother for a sub. It seems that Dean trusts you enough to give up control and let you guide him.

“That’s it,” you push off the wall to stalk toward Dean and the witness. “Agent, Hetfield, you need to come to an end. We got a new lead.”

“Oh, sure,” Dean nods. Your scent got stronger, and he knows, you are about to attack the omega touching his arm. He didn’t think much about it. The hunter always used his good looks and charm to get information out of people. It’s different now that he’s mated.

You wrap your hand around Dean’s wrist and tug lightly. “If you’d excuse us now. Me and Agent Hetfield have more people to interrogate.”

“Maybe we can meet up later,” she dares to say. “I’m off work at five.” She batts her lashes and smiles at Dean.

“He’s mated,” you grit your teeth and glare at the woman. “Do you have no shame?”

Before you lose control you tug at Dean’s wrist again and guide him away from the woman and toward his brother.

Sam watches his brother follow you like a clueless puppy. He snickers, already knowing you are going to throw a tantrum back at the motel.

“Sweetheart, I’d never do such a thing. She touched my arm and I let her, to get her to talk to me. You know I only have eyes for you,” Dean whines when you throw your shoe against the wall.

You’re close to your pre-heat and angry at yourself for feeling the way you do. Dean would never cheat on you, you know that, but your omega can’t bear watching him near another woman.

“She touched you,” you wrinkle your nose. Even though you forced Dean to shower, you still smell her on him. “I can smell that bitch on you.”

“No, you can’t,” he murmurs, and steps closer to you. “I only want you, omega. You know that. No woman can compare to you. You took my knot virginity after all.” Dean grins now. “I hope you remember that you took it.”

“Of course, I remember that I turned a lost puppy into a feral wolf wanting to mate me anytime he gets the chance to do so,” you smirk and run your hand over his arm. “Now he’s a good alpha.”

“You helped me become a better man,” his features soften when you tilt your head in submission. You rarely give in to your nature and let Dean have control. “You know that I only want to put my knot inside of you, right?”

“I hope so,” you cup his crotch, lightly squeezing him through his pants. His cock twitches in interest, and you chuckle at his eagerness. “Because I only want your knot inside of me.”

“I hope so,” Dean mirrors your smirk. He tilts his head to expose his untouched mating gland to you. “How about you show every omega that I’m only yours…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #spnomegaverseweek2024 #dean winchester x reader #a/b/o #alpha!dean winchester x reader #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader

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bullet-prooflove · 23 hours

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Rough: Frank Castle x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @juliannatryon @beardedbarba @crazy4chickennuggets @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @anime-weeb-4-life @pleasurebuttonwrites @annetje @adaydreamaway08 @est1887 @multiflixshelves @thanossexual @bonsaijoons @spookyboogyuniverse @ankhmutes @spaghettificationandpretzels @trublu2u @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @skyesthebomb @viridianphtalo @yezzyyae @casa-boiardi @lulawantmula @vermillionwinter @notanotherpotter @yousigned-upforthis @toheavenwmydrms @wabi-sabi1090 @issieruby @darkangelforever333

It’s late when you turn up at Frank’s door. You don’t expect him to be home, he never is at this time. He’s usually out on patrol or on the hunt. You can tell he’s been sleeping when he opens the door. His dark hair is ruffled, his eyes a little blurry. He’s wearing a black vest that clings to his frame over grey sweatpants.

“Angel��” He murmurs as he opens the door to let you inside.

You have him up against the wall before he even closes it, your mouth is on his as his back impacts against the plaster. You’re a strong little thing, he forgets about that sometimes. He thinks it’s because it’s been a while since the two of you actually tussled.

He remembers the last time, the scrape of gravel across his face as your knee dug into his back. He’d been both pissed off and proud because the two of you had been sparring since the night Lou Beretti sent those thugs after you and you’d come a long way since then. Not a single person had got the drop on him throughout his tenure as The Punisher but then his scrappy little cop from Queens had pulled the rug out from underneath his feet and dumped him in the drunk tank for the night because he was ‘interfering’ with her investigation.

Now he stays out of your shit, and you stay out of his.

When you bite his lower lip, he moans into your mouth, his hips surging forward so that you can feel his hard cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. He switches positions, pinning you against the wall with his muscular form. His forehead comes to rest against yours, his breathing ragged as your hand encloses on his wrist guiding his large hand up so that his palm covers your throat.

“Do your worst.” You say, pressing down on his fingers, forcing them to dig into the soft underside of your throat. “Treat me like I’m your whore.”

He looks into your eyes, and he sees the intensity in your gaze. You get like this sometimes, when things have gotten dark, and you need to feel something. He’s been there, he knows what it’s like to feel hollowed out, numb. You need him to take care of you tonight, to fuck all of the thoughts right out of your head.

“Safe word?” He questions, his thumb tracing over the shape of your lips.

“Daisy.” You murmur and he smiles.

It’s the first flower he ever gave you.

His kisses are bruising, forceful. His tongue thrusting into your mouth as he tears the clothes away from your body. He pins you down on the bed, the heat from his naked flesh rolling over yours as he forces your legs apart with his thigh. Your wetness smears against the hard muscle and your back arches as you try to generate a little more friction against your clit.

“Can’t help yourself can you?” He mutters into your ear as he grips your jaw and tilt your head away from him baring your throat. “Need my cock that badly huh?”

You don’t respond and he doesn’t expect you to. When he’s with you he can’t help but run his mouth but that’s not what you need tonight. It’s not about the words, it’s about the physicality, the sensation. He isn’t gentle when he enters you, he does it with one firm stroke, filling you entirely and the noise you make, fuck he nearly comes right there and then.

It gets rough after that.

Your nails rake up his back, the sting of it intermingling with the ecstasy as he fucks you like you’re nothing to him, just a vessel for his own pleasure.

“Harder.” There’s a bite to your voice, a savageness. “Make me feel it.”

He raises to the challenge, his muscular arm wrapping around your waist, gripping you in place as he uses you like his personal fucktoy.

It’s brutal, violent. The slapping of skin resounds through the air, the sound mixing with your hitched breathing as he thrusts inside of you hard and deep.

“Feel that?” He mutters against your skin, his lips brushing over the teeth marks he’s left on your shoulder. “That’s what you do to me, drive me so fucking crazy I can’t control myself.”

You’re close, so close he can fucking taste it. It’s in the way that pretty cunt of yours clenches around his dick, the scrape of your teeth as you bite down on his shoulder hard enough to break the skin. You drag him over the edge with you, his release spilling into you as he grasps your hips, holding them flush against his own. He doesn’t stop, he fucks it deeper, marking his territory because you’re his, you’ll always be his and in that moment the animal in him needs you to know it.

“That’s it my angel, take it.” He murmurs, his palm coming to rest on the back of your neck as he holds you against him. “Take it all.”

Love Frank Castle? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #marvel #punisher #the punisher

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lilyrizzy · 2 days

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your tags about hockey wag daniel….please please please please please please i need that fic!! esp the bit w the reddit posts “help i think i wanna fuck my captain’s boyfriend but i’m straight” i’m living for this idea omg

okay i can't give you fic, but I can give you some more details and FIRST we have to get to the part where daniel is the hot dreamy wag. this is what me and my bestie @catofthecanals289 came up with so far:

of course, max is still his brilliant, talented self in this sport. he and daniel meet and start dating when max is still living in the NL's at a little market where daniel is working, trying to make his (horribly overpriced) fashion business echante a real thing. the pretty colours catch max's eye, and then the even prettier guy wearing them and you know, max compliments his clothes in a deranged way and the rest is history etc etc etc..

BUT Max is like 18. and then, Max becomes an NHL first round draft pick for the boston bruins (evil), which means he and daniel are packing up and moving to north america after only like, six months of dating lol bc they're insanely gone for each other. we reckon for the first few years of max's career his relationship with daniel is probably pretty hush hush. not like a deadly secret, like daniel is the 'good friend' sometimes spotted in the friends and family box etc etc but max isn't exactly out. max never invites the guys over to his place, never picks up when he goes out with them and like doesn't lie, but when someone asks specifically 'do you have a girlfriend' it's not a lie to say 'no I do not have a girlfriend.'

and then SHOCK max, after winning a cup(!) is traded to the Dallas Stars (because we decided he is following tyler seguins career AND also because we need to give daniel some good weather at least for following max across the world). And like. max gets the call and has to be in dallas the next morning as is the way insane hockey trades go, but daniel can't fly with him because obvs he has to stay behind to pack up all their apartment and follow him later with it all loaded up in the car. and when like, the stars management ask max if he's got anyone coming with him, any other plane ticket to sort out, max is like. fuck I don't want to lie anymore, it's not correct that my boyfriend has been abandoned in a different state because no one knows about us.

so he's like, nah my boyfriend is following with our stuff in his truck:))

(management are confused)

(daniel becomes the legendary hot wag. the dallas sunshine facilitates the hot booty shorts)

#this is the background lore #the making of hockey wag daniel if you will #ask me things #fic #kinda

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support-ponies · 2 days

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MOD PAGE (mobile friendly)

🐶🐕MOD KIBA!!! ☕🍩

Heyo!!! I am KIBA! You might know me more as Typhwosion! I am she/her but I don’t really care what pronouns ppl use for me. I made this blog to try and make peoples days a bit easier with cute and happy ponies~ I love doggies and coffee and plushies! My favorite ponies are Applejack and Maud and Trixie and I love RariJack💖 I hope I can make your life a bit brighter with my silly drawings~ My husband is Mod Dynamo! Here’s my carrd to all my other socials and here’s all the art i’ve made on this blog. ૮⍝• ᴥ •⍝ა 💖💛💙

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🐱🐈MOD DYNAMO!!!🧡🍊

I’m Dynamo and I’m here to support the sweetest girl in the world with some Arty McArt™ and stuff. I like cats, video games, and cheese (not necessarily in that order.) My favorite pony is also Maud. If you like my art, get ready to not see much of it here if ya dare. (And here is all the art he’s made on this blog) ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

And here are all the collab art we’ve done together, Dynamo usually does the sketches for these and I ink and color them.

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MOD MORI

Howdy everypony! I’m one of the new mods, you can call me Mori!

I use He/Him and I’m transmasc + bisexual andddd my favorite ponies of the mane 6 are Fluttershy and Pinkie, though my heart truly lies with Luna. You know how it goes. My sona is named Astral Beryl and I’m hoping to become a geologist and/or voice actor, but for now I draw ponies because… Well I really love to! I hope they can help brighten your day!

Also as a note my art style is going to be… Wildly inconsistent and I apologize beforehand if certain pieces aren’t as nice as others. Such is the way of art and wanting to try new things like drawing more consistently.

o/ Stay hydrated party ponies! Hope to see you around!

ART TAG / MAIN BLOG

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MOD PIXEL

Hello everypony! I’m Pixel, also known as @fruitypieq :3

I use he/they/lun/luna and my ponysona, Night Peak, uses she/he/they. My favorite ponies are Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance, and of course Sunset Shimmer too!

I am not sure what else to put here but I’m very excited to be here, its nice to meet all of you! I’m excited to start drawing your requests and I hope I can help make your day even a little better!

If you enjoy my art you can find more of it on my main blog, or on my art blog, @fruitypieq-art! Have a wonderful day everypony!

ART TAG / MAIN BLOG

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MOD WILLOW

Hiya! I’m Mod Willow! I use any pronouns and so does my ponysona, Cece! I’m intersex, intergender, transmascfem and lesbian. I am currently trying to get into school to become a therapist but art is one of my biggest passions! I love helping and inspiring people so I hope my art can do that for you all <3

I love all the ponies but my very favorite is Princess Luna, and my favorite out of the Mane Six is probably Fluttershy. I’ve been in the fandom for about 12 years and I’m very happy to be contributing to it in any way I can!

Have a lovely day and stay mindful!

ART TAG / MAIN BLOG

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MOD APPLEJACK

Hi everypony, I’m mod applejack! I’m a 22 year old mlp superfan who has a special passion for G1 although all gens have a place in my heart. I love to cook, read, and draw for others. My other special interest besides mlp is beekeeping; I’m actually a certified beekeeper myself! I’m so happy to become a part of this amazing blog and support those who need it<3

ART TAG / MAIN BLOG

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MOD FAELING

Hi all! I’m a new mod here! I go by Fae or Faeling, and my pronouns are she/her. I’m a 30 years young autistic artist who has a love for helping bring positivity to others! ✨

I currently haven’t made my ponysona so it’s still in delvelopment but when it’s done I’ll be sure to edit and add it in this post!

My favourite generation is Gen4 and my favourite MLP is Fluttershy! I love how gentle she is and her love for animals, it matches my personality so well!💕

I am happy to be here, I have a love for drawing positive art, as I do the same on my own social media’s art accounts but not just MLP characters, all sorts of different cartoon and anime characters with positive quotes!

I’ve always wanted to help others in some way and doing things like this has always made my heart feel like I’m doing something good in the world, you all deserve encouraging and positive words to get through your days! 💕

If you end up liking my art, you can always find me at @faelingmagic on tumblr or all my other socials at http://linktr.ee/faelingmagic

I look forward to drawing for you all!

ART TAG / MAIN BLOG

#mod page #look at all the cute ponysonas

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lezabeththetheodoraimposter · 3 days

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“no one can know I can tell what people will manifest as!!” why not? ability detecting is basically torture. u could save sooo many elves so much wasted time. and just how do u think the neverseen will use this against u?? it’s literally useless to them. but it is useful to the elves. like SUPER useful. people can spend their whole lives training w their abilities before they even manifest. like omg keefe cmon

edit (I put this in a reblog but don’t feel like reexplaining it so I’m putting it here)

I get what ur saying about Keefe not wanting the council to exploit him and that having all those ppl go to him but I really think that’s the only good reason which is still a very good one bc it’s about what HE wants (but also think of terik who did it for a bit then stopped but occasionally does it for some people) tbh the only good reasons are Keefe just not wanting to and that’s fair. but honestly I’m talking about the use of the ability and how in the grand scheme and when Keefe is in a better mental place that it can be SOOOOOO useful and like when he’s past all this and is happy and healthy then I would say he should tell ppl about it even if he doesn’t open up to “readings”

with a ability training thing that was one of my main points (tho I did put it in the tags and those go away when u reblog 😒) but ability training is literally TORTURE. like they put these like 11 year old kids in burning hot rooms for hours hoping to trigger a froster… like that’s soooo unethical idk what the councils reasoning for that is. it’s literal child abuse and I’m not even kidding. its brushed off but omg wtf. and imagine going through all that only to discover you were talentless and all that was for nothing. like that would suck

and for the talentless. keefe not wanting to tell ppl they are talentless is a very valid and good reason, but aside from that I think his talent would be more helpful. bc it would give talentless ppl more time to grow up and adjust to the predugist (hate bc I can’t spell 😭) against the talentless. bc even though they would have to deal w it from birth, isn’t that better than living a normal life w friends then BAM one day ur talentless and all of ur friends stop hanging out w u. like ur WHOLE world would be flipped and it’s better to give the talentless more time to adjust to it imo.

also the schooling thing u meantioned is another reason knowing ur talentless form the start would be helpful. BECAUSE THE TALENTLESS ARE PULLED OUT IF FOXFIRE WHICH IS SOOOOO MESSED UPP. like they go to foxfire for like 3 years then the council is like “haha no ability? sucks for u lol! go off to a different school where u know no one and make different friends yk just forget ur whole life up to now haha” like WTF. (honestly the bigger problem here is how the talentless are treated but we already know that has to change so this is about how keefe can help).

also it could give “bad match” couples where one of them is talentless (like Kesler and juline) comfort to know their kid isn’t talentless. And if their kid is talentless then it saves them years from worrying over it and the suspense of it all. Also I just think knowing ur ability from childhood and being able to train for it before u even manifested would be soooo helpful

but in the end of the day yeah, keefe just not wanting to is the biggest thing. and I might be remembering incorrectly bc I haven’t read the book in forever but I remember something about keefe thinking he accidentally triggered the triplets abilities which would be more problematic but idk if I’m remembering it wrong. but I do think like years after kotlc ends (or when ever he feels ready) keefe should defo start using his ability for good. like it doesn’t have to be everybody. it can just be kids of q talentless parent(s) to help their parents out yk bc if two telepaths have a kid then it’s obvi going to be a telepath u don’t need keefe to tell u that

also the main point of the pre-editted post was about how he doesn’t want the NEVERSEEN to know bc he thinks they might be able to use it against his friends. like how. literally how? what use is it going to do them.

#bro it’s ur not special 🙄🙄#but seriously think of how much it could help people #I mean yeah they could tell who would be talentless then but that means the talentless won’t have to go through ability detecting for nothi #like and they wouldn’t have to go to foxfire only to be kicked out and wil have more time to adjust to the fact they don’t have an ability #it could also save a lot of “bad match” couples years of stress over if their kids will develop #keefe sencen #kotlc fandom #kotlc

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gnashingwailing · 3 days

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@fireflywritesgt ok i read your tag on ch21 and i took that as a personal challenge (and then while I was writing this you dropped ch22 and THEN 23 and murdered me. but i'm back now. so)

HELLO Ok fuck yeah hold on everybody take my hand. We’re theorizing about this chapter 🙏 spoilers thru ch23 below

Re: the tag: dare I hope the next story will be set in a similar time/place… i MUST ADMIT despite the significant broader cultural stigma of such a thing. I have often contemplated. Harry and Joe helping with providing socialized miniature healthcare 😭 (maybe to wherever Lorraine lives[?] or knows of?) and when I heard mention of a Tiny Town Hospital… one must wonder how this compares to a Giant Hospital, or to the barber surgeon dens that Joe has presumably had some frostbitten toes cut off at.

OTHER THINGS I’M SPECULATING ABOUT: “certainly, bandits were a problem a borrower occasionally had to face” 🤔 damn that's rough. I do love the sense that there are few overarching cultural norms, whether it's around marriage or language or so on. Everybody is kinda doing their own thing (including robbing each other oof).

I am also VEEEERRY curious about the implications of WHATEVER the tinies that are working in Tiny Town are doing. What kind of mechanized thing could be profitable from a lot of little guys pressing buttons? Or is it maybe not something physical they’re producing? Is it instead a research project? Some attempt at “civilizing” the tiny society for giant colonialism reasons? There’s got to be some kind of output here that is valuable to some kind of giant, but I’m still mystified at what it will be. “Joe wanted to ask him about the four armed giants who stood outside of Tiny Town” YEAH MAN ME TOO‼️ <- secretly delighted this is still coming up because I want to know what it means QUITE BADLY

Joe lamenting that there don't seem to be any libraries, or restaurants, or speakeasies, or any mark of ... art or entertainment? In Tiny Town? I REALLY HOPE Joe and Harry get over themselves and kiss soon so they can TALK ABOUT HOW FUCKING WEIRD THIS PLACE IS???? It made me INSAAANE THAT JOE JUST BRUSHED OFF TALKING ABOUT IT AT ALL 😭 JOE TO HAVE THOSE THINGS. PEOPLE HAVE TO WORK AT THEM. ARE ALL THE PEOPLE IN TINY TOWN JUST WORKING ON PUSHING BUTTONS??? JOE PLS

“Expecting handouts from the bloody giants…” sooo fascinating to hear him voice this, since this whole project is a handout in the absolute best case scenario (given that scraps are worthless to giants), although likely closer to a prison, as Professor Hill called it. Still patiently waiting for his smart and cool wife to explain things to me <3

I hope Joe will deign to really talk about what happened to him… GURL go process it with ur beautiful best friend!! Let him hold you and comfort you and tell you you’re literally so smart and correct and everything you’re saying about ditching the buttons part entirely is literally so beautiful and true!!! Go rock his world with your insights king!!!

Also lmfao Joe is definitely not Irish bcuz his Irish Goodbyes need some SERIOUS work. King of just literally running off when he’s not feeling a conversation anymore.

Me 🤝Joe <- autistically just leaving

He does this so often and it makes me cackle every time. Wait hold on those great meme posts make me want to make a JUST WALK OUT! One.

Absolutely loving the tension of it all… the reveal that Joe was doing watchmaking when he was TWELVE, meaning (if I'm keeping track of time correctly) he got snatched right after he was ABANDONED BY HIS ONLY FAMILY IN THE WORLD, was so artfully done. I had to stop in my tracks and think at the “he’d known O’Grady longer in his life than he hadn’t” and do math and be like “oh fuck.” Maybe this was teased prior and I didn’t pick up on it, but it hit HARD. For some reason I hadn’t assumed he was a kid — but why wouldn’t he be? If little kids are already doing things like crawling into discarded beer bottles. Fuck, Warren, heartbreaking stuff. Bravo. Of course Joe would be as dedicated to going and seeing him as he was Harry in the hospital. He cares so deeply about everyone, but especially his friends. It’s too bad O’Grady is no longer in a place to reciprocate the love Joe gives !!! But of course Joe still would not be ready to throw away the boot knife O’Grady made for him… “a decision that would forever change Joe’s life” btw I can hear ur evil hehe from here. :)

Also btw THIS little detail is one of those things that makes rereading your story so delightful: “They invade our end of the city, take our jobs, show up at our bar… did we invite them? No.” O’Grady was practically ranting. “And when we politely tell them to leave, what do they do?” O’Grady pointed to his bandaged head. “Watch out for them once you get here. They’re not good Irishmen like you and me, Joe.” juxtaposed with the actual breaking news we heard from the radio ? "“AN IRISHMAN AND AN ITALIAN ARE IN THE HOSPITAL AFTER A MASS BRAWL OUTSIDE A BAR ENDED IN A CRACKED SKULL AND A STABBING. NEITHER OF ‘EM HAVE BEEN IDENTIFIED YET.”" a fucking STABBING = "politely tell them to leave"? What kinds of things has Joe's friend gotten used to excusing?

And of course I love the moments of solidarity within the tragedy of the newly realized (or at least newly stoked) xenophobia between borrowers. Joe being reminded of how his parents spoke, and how his brother shooed him off, in the gestures of a stranger… you really do a great job of evoking the ways we are all connected to each other. His family is gone, but he still sees them everywhere he looks. [pacing my enclosure and being sooo normal about how Joe has purposefully isolated for a decade and yet cannot help but see the beauty and humanity of his fellow man whether tiny or giant bcuz despite thinking he’s wired wrong, he’s actually wired like all of us who have felt that way for our unusual proclivities. He’s wired for connection with his fellow man. And he’s so wired for it u can feel how much it hurts his heart. Haha I’m sooooo .] The older guy was trying to warn him off crossing a white line into the “Irish ward”, too, right? The gesture was a kindness. And speaking of, does that mean the little tunnel somebody dug is to the Irish district? Or was I turned around and it was the Italian one? Either way — who would be trying to get in here, and why? Maybe it’s just a desperate person, but O’Grady talking about how bad it’d be if they saw Joe, and the need for an ID, makes me think it’s not someplace you can sneak into and integrate with. Just makes me curious as to whether it’ll come up again!!

THIS is also something I'm wondering about -- could the 'output' of Tiny Town maybe be researching, like... ethnonationalism? In the wake of WWI? Those drawn lines separating different 'wards'... do we think Tinies came up with this shit on their own? I doubt it, if someone like Dawson who is immediately assigning people nationalities that we know from Calloway's nobody "normal" in borrower society knows/cares about. HMMMmmmmMMMMM. I'm still reaaaaally curious how much Hill knows about this place and what hand, if any, he had in it. ONCE AGAIN, boys get kissing so you can also get TALKING. I think Harry would have much to say about how pointless it is to hate individuals from other nationalities after everything he saw during the war. Or so I assume, given he had no bad reaction to Joe being Italian.

AND WELL THIS IS LESS THEORYCRAFTING AND MORE “ME WANTING TO WRITE MORE FANFIC ABOUT THEM” BUT I WAS SOOO DELIGHTED THE CHAPTER DIDN’T END WITH HIM LEAVING TINY TOWN AND WE INSTEAD GOT DRESS REHEARSAL 2 OF HARRY AND JOE GETTING SO FUCKING DOWN BAD FOR EACH OTHER AT THE WINDOW & IN THE BEDROOM. YIPPEEEEE <- this was written before ch22 lol pictures taken moments before disaster

“Joe fidgeted for a moment as he fought with himself over whether or not to say what he really wanted to say.” … did you say what you really wanted to, there, pal? 🤨

I'm sooooo glad Joe's books are making more and more appearances... much like Harry I'm endlessly delighted by his culture. I wanna know what shaped his romantic fantasies!!

""Yeah, the ending on this one isn't great. They're cowards. Could've at least said they loved each other." Joe said.

He closed the book and snuggled into the crook of Harry's neck." <- Lmao @ these two guys so allergic to talking about their feelings shit-talking the romance book protagonists while they're literally cuddling in bed and not acknowledging it

Did he own these books when he was a kid? I imagine so, but on the other hand? HEY HOLY SHIT I REALIZED AFTER CH23 SOMETHING I SUSPECTED BUT COULDN'T CONFIRM: if homophobia isn't something borrowers have. Is one of these romance novels Joe owns going to be between two men? Harry is going to get his fuckin world rocked. Him and Georgie stole books from the library before, but I doubt they found any gay romance stuff (still impossible for baby-gay-Gnash to find that almost 100 years later in their rural libraries, lol.) Would this be Harry's first exposure to something like that? Wahhh... hurry up and open up to each other again you need to talk culture ASAP...

I'm also very curious if borrowers would have more taboo novels of their own, particularly giant/tiny stuff. And would Joe have come across any of it? I imagine it'd be extremely difficult to sell things like that without a beating, but maybe in bigger night markets -- and Joe said he's been in lots of very big cities... if his third novel is some really salacious g/t writing that would do numbers here on tumblr dot com I'm going to lose my god damn mind.

#once again. it would be a war crime to try putting this in your inbox. also other people seemed to enjoy it last time.#take my hand fellow TAoLaW enthusiasts. let's make incorrect guesses about where things are heading... together <3 #thanks for the wonderful fic Warren!! it's taking over my brain!!!

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powderblueblood · 3 days

Text

BEAUTIFUL!

ronnie ecker recounts the last first day of the worst of her life or i wanted to rewrite beautiful from heathers the musical, hellfire and ice version. warnings: first person narrative (ronnie's pov), swearing, era-typical misogyny, bullying and slurs, mention of eating disorders, everyone's a dick, everyone's kind of gay for lacy doevski. wc: 3.8k

September 1st, 1984.

First day of the end of your life. It’s hard not to get a little intro-outrospective.

If I was a diary keeping person, which I’m not because I don’t like to leave a paper trail outside my own goddamn academic brilliance, I’d write something like this.

Dear diary, I believe that I’m a good person–y’know, relatively speaking, if you don’t count that one time I bit that one kid for catcalling me. But, here we are! First day of senior year! And I look around at these kids I’ve known all my life and I ask myself–what happened?

We’re in the hallway, bottlenecking toward the cafeteria. It’s right around lunchtime, so everyone’s getting a real good look at everybody else, categorizing who they hate, who they hate more, who got boobs over the summer. God, do we ever stop slinging shit at each other, even when we think no one’s listening? There’s a constant cacophony in the hallways of Hawkins High.

Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

And no one does anything about it.

It’s pretty sad, considering where we came from.

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste. Especially me. I was crazy for that shit.

Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome. “Shit, my bad!” That underclassman I just walked straight into looked terrified. And for good reason.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome.

Trailer trash!

For the very first very last time, I crane my head around the swamped hall and try to recall where my new locker is. First star on the right, and I wiggle in my combination and dump my books inside. I take a second, shoving my head inside the cool metal darkness (voluntarily, for once) and mutter, “Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon–”

“–Christ. College will be paradise, if I’m not dead by June.”

I crane my neck out. Two lockers up from me, elegant fingers pull open an identical door to mine except hers, of course, already has a vanity mirror hung up inside. She checks her reflection, not like it ever needs checking. One of her faithful little redheads stands beside her, smacking bubblegum so loud it makes my ears pop.

“You are so melodramatic, it’s crazy.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing…”

It sucks how the chrysalis of adolescence has made most of us completely obnoxious. I try not to be a sucker for nostalgia, but I can’t help but remember how much easier this was in middle school. Waking up on a weekday didn’t have to be like living in a segment of Creepshow.

I know, I know, I know, life can be beautiful. No plastic Jesus on my dashboard (or… handlebars, I guess) but I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again…

Then I get a whole shoulder of dork, right to the face. Bubblegum snaps between snorts, I can see that he’s been shoved my way. Yeah, we could be beautiful…

“Ow!”

Just not today. “Hey, are you okay?”

This Jansport sporting asshole twists his face up right in mine. “Get away, nerd!” Jesus Christ.

The choir of angels go on–I’m just trying to make it to the cafeteria and grab a fucking chicken pot pie. I’m starving, and I could use a little less soundtrack.

Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo!

But, listen. It’s not a total nightmare. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown–

–or, NYU, if we’re being really serious.

“Wake from this coma, take my diploma–” God. This chick’s voice seems to cut through the din of the hallway like a bell, “Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy covered walls and smoky French cafes…”

“Sooo uber pretentious!”

“Watch it, freak!” I don’t even need to turn around to figure out who that’s directed at. But, I’m a little preoccupied with singing my own tune, here! Muscling through to the lunch line, grabbing a tray while I–

“–fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze. Hey, Ronnie!”

Dude, shut up! I swing around, trying to spot the owner of that very different, very familiar dulcet tone when some duckbill hat wearing dickwad upends my lunch tray. Dressed in Hawkins Tiger green and gold, this is one of many prize dickwads.

Bear with me, I’m trying to place him.

“Ooops.”

Andy Sweeney. Indiana’s worst point guard… “whose true talent lies in being a huge dick.”

Did I mention before about that lack of filter between my brain and my mouth? I patch it up pretty good most of the time, but sometimes…

“What did you say to me, skank?” Andy demands of me all darkly and shit. It’s scary. Even if I’ve got a foot and a half on him.

“Aaah!” I recoil, looking at his flexing fists, “Nothing.”

I back up from him, way way up, leaving my mess of a lunch tray on the ground. Even though that makes me feel shitty–when did I become the guy who left stuff for the already harangued janitorial staff to clean up?

We were kind before; we can be kind once more…

Head down. Stalk through. Find the Hellfire table. But, not before someone chucks me lightly on the arm.

“Agh!” I holler before I register him. I am totally on edge. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hey,” he grins in a sardonic way that says I cannot believe we’re putting ourselves through this again.

Eddie Munson. My best friend since pre-pube. The closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother, unless Granny finally lets me get that gecko I’ve always wanted. I’m almost eighteen, for Chrissake, I should be allowed.

Anyway, Eddie rocks. We know this. Look at him.

“We still on for movie night?” he asks.

I beam. Our first day of school comedown tradition. “Shit yeah, you’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

Eddie’s got a little pep in his step and it jangles his wallet chain. Dude can’t help but attract attention– almost all of it unwanted. “I rented Evil Dead.”

“Hohoho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

“What can I say?” Before I can even warn him, Eddie’s backstepping straight into– “I’m a sucker for a gory ending.”

“Eddie Munson, king of the trailer park! What, you didn’t qualify for free lunches this year?”

A hand comes down hard on the age-old tin lunchbox Eddie’s carrying. The clatter it makes against the lino makes me want to cover my ears and hide, especially when I see Eddie’s face. Total resignation. It’s humiliating.

This guy?

Tommy Hagan. He’s the smartest guy on the basketball team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Too goddamn easy, man!” he guffaws, and I would try to figure out what farm animal he most resembles, but apparently I’m too busy–

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!” –being the hero.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Tommy also tries to tower over me, but I’ve got a decent number of inches on him too.

My cheeks blaze.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. Tell me, Tommy, do you actually have a personality outside of sticking your nose right up Steve Harrington’s ass?”

Tommy gets closer and closer. So close that I can see the nose hair move as he huffs through his freckly nostrils. His finger points right between my eyebrows.

“… you have a zit right there.”

Cue rapturous laughter from the peanut gallery.

Dear diary…

Why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do I act like such a creep? Why won’t he date me? Why did I hit him? Why do I cry myself to sleep?

Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope here! Something to live for!

The doors of the cafeteria burst open and Tommy’s attention is thankfully wrenched away from me. Everyone’s attention is wrenched away from me. Because we’ve all been waiting for this.

They enter the caf in a solid formation, so solid that people part for them. Some gazing, some gawping, some glaring. The name calling ceases, the bullying pauses.

This is the royal court. They float above it all.

Tina Burton, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded. He sells engagement rings.

Heather Holloway, runs the yearbook. Badly. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants.

Even the lessers are notorious. Carol Perkins has been having sex since, like, seventh grade. Cass Finnigan’s been pretending to save it for Jesus but giving a backdoor key to whoever buys her peach schnapps. Nicole Summers invented three new slurs last year alone.

And finally, Lacy Doevski.

The Almighty.

She is a mythic bitch.

These girls, they’re solid Teflon. Never bothered. Never harassed–

“I would give anything to be like that.”

And I know I don’t sit in that thought alone. Glancing around the tables, the coagulation of cliques, I can hear the desire coming from my classmates.

I’d like to be their boyfriend. If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. I’d like them to be nicer.

“What’s the over-under on one of those harpies getting kidnapped, taken to some abandoned warehouse to be photographed naked and left for the rats?” Eddie mutters into my ear as we slam ourselves down at our regular table.

I roll my freakin’ eyes. “I told you that your Barb Holland theory was insane.”

Eddie shrugs, flipping open his recovered lunchbox. “Just sayin’... They never found a body. Anyway, my money's on the ice queen. If everything they're sayin' about her dad is true, she is prime ransom material.”

“You are so unnecessarily twisted.” But my eyes are still following the crown jewels. I notice that Lacy, Tina and Heather all rise to the girl’s room immediately after they finish their minimal lunch.

I interrupt Eddie and Gareth’s too-intense-for-lunchtime debate about the morality of posthumously publishing The Silmarillion. “I have to take a leak.”

As I gently push the door of the bathroom open, I can see Tina standing nervously at an open stall door. Heather is ralphing like her life depends on it. The reptilian arch of Lacy Doevski is bent towards the mirror, touching up her lipstick.

“Grow up, Heather,” Lacy says in this voice that could weirdly be misconstrued as concerned, “Bulimia is so sophmoronic.”

Tina grimaces. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.”

From inside the stall, Heather’s voice echos. “Yeah, Heather– I mean, Tina. Maybe I should.”

I’m about to open my mouth, say something about ginger ale or peppermint tea, but Mrs O’Donnell enters behind me. I dive into a nearby stall, pretty confident I haven’t been spotted. But, I leave just enough of a crack in the door to watch everything that unfolds out there.

“Ah, I should have known–”

Heather vomits again. Damn, how can she pull trig so much on so little?

“–the witches from Macbeth always travel in a trio.” Her heels click over the cracked, yellowing tile, but the way Lacy turns from the mirror gives even O’Donnell pause. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

Hey. Idea. I dig around in my backpack and scribble on a piece of paper, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well.” Lacy says. Again, confusing enough to sound kind! “We’re helping her.”

O’Donnell chuckles all airly. Like she’s any match for her. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. Week’s detention.”

That’s my cue. I scurry out of the stall, presenting O’Donnell with–

“Um, actually, Mrs O’Donnell, all four of us are out on a hall pass.” I gulp and glance at Heather, who’s finally hauled herself off her knees. “Yearbook committee.”

It’s super hard to breathe as O’Donnell inspects my handiwork. It hits me that this could go horribly, horribly wrong, and I can feel Lacy’s eyes boring into a hot spot on the back of my head.

O’Donnell arches her eyebrow. “I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

She goes to hand the note back to me, but Lacy intercepts. Once the coast is clear, she takes her time looking it over.

“This is an excellent forgery,” she tells me. A drop of freezing sweat runs down my back. “Who are you?”

“Uh, Ronnie– Veronica Ecker,” I stumble. “We were lab partners last year?”

Lacy’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t remember taking the lead on coolly dissecting a frog in front of me, it seems.

“Doesn’t matter. I crave a boon.”

She holds her glare on me. Jesus, why do I feel like I’m about to have my throat slit? “What boon?”

“Um. Let me sit at your lunch table. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone…”

What? It worked for Nancy Wheeler. Even if she had to boink Steve Harrington to do it, but I can't quite stretch that far.

The girls all chorus in laughter at me. Oof.

“Before you answer, I can also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes.” Dude, I cannot tell you where this boost of bravery (or foolhardiness) is coming from.

“How about prescriptions?” Heather asks.

“Shut up, Heather,” Lacy cuts.

“Sorry, Lacy.”

Then, she zeroes in on me. Takes slow steps toward me, just like Tommy Hagan did. But her stare is tearing strips right through me. I even freaking hunch as she gets closer.

“For a greasy little nobody,” Lacy says, her voice dropping low so I have to strain to hear her, “you do have good bone structure.”

Tina and Heather must already be tuned into this Lacy-only frequency.

“And a proportional body,” Tina adds. “If someone didn’t catch you during a basket toss, you’d probably only kind of fracture your spine. That’s very important.

“Of course, you could stand to de-hobo your wardrobe.” Heather goes so far as to flick the flappy pocket on the front of my overalls. “Salvation Army much?”

“And ya know, ya know, ya know…” the shiniest jewel in the crown hums, tapping her lipstick tube against her cheek, “This could be beautiful.” Her painted fingers pinch my chin and turn it down toward her–because I’m fucking tall. “Mascara, maybe some lipgloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush– and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

A manic looking Tina produces a vanity bag out of absolutely nowhere. “Let’s make her beautiful…”

“Let’s make her beautiful?” Heather snarks, but Lacy shoves a hand in her face.

Her eyes turn on me again. Dark and sparkly and… and… smiling. At me. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

Then, whaddaya know, smash cut, it’s the next freaking day. I don’t know how that works, but I don’t see another goddamn narrator so pipe down.

The halls are their usual shitshow– Billy Hargrove shoves the new Hellfire freshman, Gareth, into a locker. Eddie hauls him up by the collar and they run headlong into a gaggle of girls, who all scream because every nerd that plays a fantasy game is contagious.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Get away, pervert!”

“What did I ever do to them?” Gareth yelps, exasperated. Hard not to feel bad for the kid.

But Eddie’s sage about it, even though he knows it’s as unfair as I do. “You’ll get used to it, freshman.”

“No, dude!” Gareth pushes back, verging on a panic attack, “Who could survive this! I can’t escape this–I think I’m dying!”

O’Donnell, hot on the tardy check, appears behind the both of ‘em. “Who’s that with Lacy?”

“Damn. Someone got a welfare increase,” Nicole Summers hatefully snarls.

“Who’s the babe?” says Andy Sweeney.

But Eddie Munson, oh-ho, Eddie Munson settles his eyes into slits. Anytime, any place, he’d know–

“Veronica?!”

“Veronica?” Cass and Carol caw.

“Veronica?” Steve and Tommy mimic.

And Lacy Doevski… she looks to her dutiful right, and smirks. “Veronica?”

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful!

My whole life, I haven’t had a choice but to be one of the boys. My best friend’s a boy. I’m in a band with all boys. I’m surrounded by boys all the time who make gross boy jokes and do stupid boy shit. Nobody, not even my Granny, even though she fucking rules, ever asked me if… if I wanted to put on a skirt and get my goddamned nails painted. And it’s not as if I mind being on the more masculine side of things but, shit, is it so wrong to want something? Even if I believed what I was pretty much dragged up to believe, by all my friends and the world at large around me–that being a chick was totally dumb. Couldn’t I try it on?

You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way!

Lacy beckoned me into her walk-in closet, which was about as big as my bedroom and smelled of gardenia, and put me in a pleated skirt set that she said didn’t fit her temperament anymore. ‘But it’d work for a novice.’

Ask me how it feels, lookin’ like hell on wheels–

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Eddie seethes as I pass, carried on the cloud of Lacy’s perfume.

‘My god, it’s beautiful!’ I’d said, spinning around in the stupid, flippy skirt.

“Those bobbleheads totally morphed her!”

‘I might be beautiful!’ I mumbled, fingering the diamond studs she put in my ears that she made Heather pierce.

“She looks like–like–” Gareth chokes.

And when you’re beautiful…

“A girl!”

… it’s a beautiful fuckin’ day!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Now, at first, I think I’m fucking flatlining, expecting to wake up with goddamn tubes down my throat and shit– but I’m not. I’m in my regular old bed, with my regular old alarm clock screaming at me. I smash my hand down on it and jerk up, out of the covers.

First place I go is my wardrobe.

I feel the physical sensation of my heart dropping like a lead kite when I flick through my old thrift store samesies and Granny Ecker hand-me-downs to find no such minty plaid skirt set.

Just a dream.

Which is such a bullshit conceit. Sorry to break it to you.

I admit defeat and pull on my overalls, scrunching my ballcap over my head and muscle out the door. I’m already late, for me.

But–then, there’s an apparition hovering at my mailbox.

Someone who excitedly takes notice and waves when she catches me staring, arm stretching out of her fur-trimmed peacoat–which is looking a tiny touch shabbier than it used to these days.

“Happy early acceptance day, asshole!” Lacy Doevski sing-songs. Sing-songs. Which is… something I have to readjust to, given the liminal version of her I just experienced.

“Oh.. jeez,” I mutter, feeling dazed still, “I forgot that was today.”

Lacy’s brow gets all pinchy. “You okay? You look like steamed dogshit.”

“Thank you so much,” I drawl sarcastically, “It’s nothing, I slept funky. Where’s Eddie?”

Lacy shifts in herself a little, tucking hair behind her ears and avoiding my eyes. “How should I know?” Right. That. The daylight version of this little tryst they pretend they’re not having. Honestly, if the two of them would just bang it out– well, maybe things might be worse off and this weird little platonic ménage à trois of ours would be totally ruined forever, but at least I’d have to stop tiptoeing around them. “Come on, are you gonna open it or what?”

Oh, right. There’s a whole gravity of a situation supposed to be happening here.

I kind of feel the saliva gathering at the hinges in my jaw, you know the way you do when you’re about to puke your guts up? But then, I remember. Bulimia is so sophmoronic.

I yank open that rusty mailbox and a thick, thick envelope with a New York University imprint sits inside. I yank it out.

Lacy stares at me like I’m the dude holding the thing the Ten Commandments were written on.

I’m not drawing this shit out. I am not teasing myself, dude, you couldn’t pay me to–savagely, I rip the envelope open, which makes Lacy cringe. She probably has a little knife for these sorts of things, knowing her.

Dear Veronica,

Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you…

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Well…?”

I thrust that hot, heavy paper right into that pretty girl’s face. “Full. Goddamned. Ride.”

Lacy gasps, grasping the letter so hard it leaves claw marks. Her eyes shake back and forth, reading and re-reading the whole acceptance ream. It’s weird, and I know it’s weird, but I’m standing there, looking at her and trying to make her make sense with the Lacy that showed up in my dream. That girl existed, and she was mystifying, in a horrifying way. A total reign of ice cold terror. But now, I’m staring at Lacy, who’s all short, weird angles and specific enthusiasm and… it’s hard to see how those two girls ever lived in the same body.

She’s a little Whitman. She’s got those multitudes. And, actually, so do I.

“I knew it!” Lacy hisses, “And I want you to know that I’m not at all bitter. While I should be celebrating early acceptance with you, I’m glad–”

I grin at her. “You’re a little bitter.”

“Fine, I’m a little bitter, but I’m mostly excited. New York City, Ron! That’s transformative!”

“Yeah… speaking of. Lacy?”

“Yes?”

Dreams are meant to be prophetic and shit, right?

“Doyouwannagivemeamakeover?”

She cocks her head at me. She still hasn’t let go of that acceptance letter yet. “What?”

“Do you.” I take the envelope from her hands. I know she’s capable of identity theft. “Want to give me. A makeover.”

“Huh?” Her fingers stay curled around imaginary paper. Oh, my god.

“You heard me! And I hate repeating myself!” I flail a little. I get like that, quick to bug sometimes. “Look, you said it, New York is gonna be… transformative. I’m going to be a freaking lawyer, dude, fingers crossed, all going well.”

Lacy nods, not a hair out of place, with perfect confidence,“You are.”

“And when was the last time you saw a lawyer wearing fuckin’ overalls?! Huh? The people vs Howdy Doody?”

“I like your overalls.” I know she’s saying this because it’s the right thing to say, and she’s been practicing doing that really hard. She also might like them now, after repeated exposure, in a Stockholm syndrome sort of way.

“But they don’t scream esquire,” I impress upon her. And it’s true. I truly do believe that I can’t set foot in New York fucking City looking like I just fell off the back of a turnip truck–nor do I want to.

It takes a big fat beat, but her face changes. Lacy looks almost dastardly–dark, sparkling eyes like Lacy from the dream. She looks me right over, making the calculations of how to reupholster tragically unfashionable me in her mind. And then she arches her eyebrow.

“Well, remember… you asked, Veronica.”

#published by powder #r. ecker by powder #hai brainrot #ronnie ecker #stranger things fic #l. doevski by powder #this is really just wish fulfillment for me it's been stuck in my maladaptive head for weeks

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braisedhoney · 6 months

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some tragic love stories be like: if i could bottle the galaxy, i would pour it into a cup so it would be easier for you to drink. do you want them? do you want the stars? or do they suit you better as adornments for your eyes than glitter on your lips?

but they don’t want the stars. they don’t want the galaxy. but how can they not? is that not enough? (it’s too much, that’s the problem. it’s too much.)

#ney's idle chatter (random textposts)#me trying and failing to capture why hadestown has embodied Love in a way i don’t think i’m really capable of comprehending fr #but also this can be about whatever blorbo you want #when i think about that one line in chant #when hades says ‘brighter than the light of day’#‘look. look at what i can make for you—see?’#meanwhile the last thing persephone wants is to be reminded of this hollow echo of what their love is in her memories #when i think about that scene when eurydice tells orpheus they need to get food #but he’s working on his song and she makes the choice to trust him and go #to work harder and longer and search for things to feed them and trust he’ll bring spring back #THE WAY PERSEPHONE TRIES TO KISS HADES GOODBYE AT THE START WHEN SHE COMES BACK FOR SUMMER #AND HOW IT PARALLELS EURYDICE KISSING ORPHEUS GOODBYE WHEN SHE GOES TO LOOK FOR FOOD #and hades pulls away. because she’s leaving him and he’s terrified. he’s terrified and turns it into anger because otherwise he’s helpless.#and orpheus doesn’t respond when eurydice leaves because he’s working—he’s working and he’s going to give her what he promised.#but she needs his help. she needs his help now—she needs his support and he isn’t there.#thinking about the moment she takes the ticket from hades and #it almost implies she starves. that she dies. that she starves to death trying to find food for them both #i promise you however unhinged i seem about this musical i am being purposefully restrained so i don’t spam you all too much orz #holy SHIT these tags are LONG #even for me this is ridiculous there’s a whole other post down here #high five to you for reading it ig damn #hadestown

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zeb-z · 5 months

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Bad has so many reasons to be cautious, even paranoid, as anyone else on the island. From Federation nonsense to Dapper being kidnapped to the whole purgatory nonsense to whatever fuckass suit of armor “old friend” was setting up cameras in his house. But it compounds on his regular overly aware paranoid self to this state of hyper-paranoia. And as a demon who can and usually will lie, cheat, steal, and use sneaky underhanded tactics, he expects the craziest extent because he thinks of it, realizes it’s possible, and would use it himself. We saw this very obviously in purgatory - when he thought greens desperate last ditch effort to balance the scale was a super planned out tactic to tip the scale, so he did it first, all the hardcore base hunting, the spawn killing, there’s a reason every other tactic he used usually followed a main channel qsmp post with updated rules - all usually things he was surprised no one else thought of. But then this also piles onto the fact that he has to have things go his way, all the time, and that he’s argumentative as all get out, which led to the debate between him and Bagi yknow. Especially because he’s not just doing it for the sake of being right, he doesn’t think he’s paranoid, but that he’s exercising the right amount of caution.

So like. Listen dude. Yeah he’s got reasons to be paranoid. But his thought process around building vaults for separate cookie caches like they locked up the risus pills, only to scrap it because it’s not perfectly impenetrable, is extreme. His character has hardly been a leading example in someone who has reasonable reactions to things. And even when there isn’t his own children’s livelihoods potentially on the line, he has a need for control, and the most control he has is if he keeps the cookies in his inventory at all times. If he makes himself the sole point in which the others can get ones in a case of emergency, then he can control the variables. The problem is he’s unreliable about himself when he’s at his most rational and healthiest, and he’s far worse with the current memory and health issues he’s been mostly unaware of.

I dunno it’s like. There is never going to be a purely impenetrable base. And it’s not just a case of “Bagi just hasn’t lived through __ yet!”. Bad’s own logic about keeping the cookies on him at all times is flawed under his own logic, because Bagi is right - if someone has enough drive to break into separate secured cookie caches purely for the downfall of eggs, they more than certainly have enough drive to find a way to kill Bad and just take them from his inventory, or to just kill the eggs themselves. All it truly does is give Bad a sense of control, and soothe his paranoia.

#everyone let’s remember rurus’ tweet about bad NOT being in the blunt rotation. he would try to pluck cameras out of your eyes. and he will #make it seem like it’s the most reasonable thing to do in that moment #now this is more me complaining about shit I’ve been seeing on Twitter in the tags <3 love and peace but I’ve got beef #side note - to say the people who are commenting on qBad’s paranoia or this and that are all newcomers who just ‘weren’t there to experienc #-the dark times’ or ‘weren’t there for the egg deaths/nightmares’ like you are not immune to the way bbh can make something seem so #reasonable #he’s got his own reasons to be paranoid. and most everyone agreed that the base idea of a ‘cookie jar’ would need rethinking with security #but to say qBagi (or Jorge’s/other viewers) is shortsighted or naive. when qBad is THE definition of paranoia. of overreacting. like #qBad’s reaction extends from a mixture of care hyper paranoia and trauma response (which is half that hyper paranoia)#and he will pick and pick and pick until there’s nothing left to pick at #sometimes this is helpful. a lot of the time it’s not #and on the flip side it’s like y’all bad cares about the eggs to a ridiculous degree don’t be silly here okay. he does this because he care #even without a memory in his brain he calls them ‘little one’ and is gentle like. he cares #but at the same time this doesn’t always justify his nonsense. his thought processes. he’s Uber hyper paranoid and not easy to reason with #he’s selfish he can and will jump to extremes he’s overly controlling. and he’s the worlds most unreliable narrator #I’ve been saying this I’ll keep saying this he’s an unreliable narrator! this doesn’t make everything he says or thinks bullshit but you #cannot take what he says to himself how he justifies his actions etc etc in private at face value. unless he is making it EXPLICITLY CLEAR #he’s talking from a meta perspective as the creator of his character #you have to take his perspective with a grain of salt. because he will ‘I’m just a little guy and the world is out to get me’ his way outta #everything #there is a difference between reasonable caution from learned past experiences and overly anxious paranoid responses #idk I’m running out of steam sorry this is like a second post with the tags #and again I say this as a huge qBbh enjoyer lmao #mcyt #qsmp #q!bbh #q!bagi #z speaks

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thatone-churro · 4 months

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okay. i know it’s a very bad idea to seek mental health advice from the internet, especially tumblr of all places, but i have a genuine question about this.

actually, before i get too far, i guess i should add some context about myself:

i’m fairly talkative in a certain sense. i like talking. if i start talking about something i like, or if i get excited while talking, i can talk a lot. when i’m alone, i tend to talk to myself a lot. just verbalizing thoughts, mostly; talking myself through a strategy, just voicing my thoughts as i play through a video game, or sometimes just babbling as though i’m talking to someone else. this is a frequent thing and not the root of my concern.

course, sometimes i talk a little less in public or in certain social situations if i’m not “invited” to speak too (more than just being spoken to first, but that’s another explanation i don’t want to go into right now), but i’ve always been like that; something, something, i know it’s more about social anxiety or something that i know i inherited and is a different discussion for a different day.

so, every now and then i have these days where, for lack of a better description, talking feels like it takes too much energy. even that doesn’t feel like it explains it properly but. like the same struggle to get out of bed on a rough day. like somehow speaking, the act of opening my mouth and forcing words out of my throat, takes too many spoons. the same way it feels like taking a shower or brushing your teeth has too many steps despite it being a simple process when your depression’s acting up (we’ll get back to this comparison in a minute).

i can tell when these days come on before i even have to speak to someone; it feels like my words are stuck in my throat. i mean that physically; there’s not actually something in my throat, but there’s a weight of some sort.

i’ve taken to calling these days “quiet days,” since this feeling affects just about everything associated with talking; making myself talk is a struggle; i can’t even talk to myself and all those monologues and discussions happen inside my head instead, but i can’t verbalize them; i don’t want people to talk to me on these days, as in there’s a deliberate, subconscious feeling already there on those days, not that i’m not wanting to talk because of the other feelings; actively listening to and comprehending things people say is also an effort to do, and i tend to tune out my music or whatever background noise i set for myself more than usual; i’ve recently discovered that this same feeling is applied to singing, much to my dismay, because i found this out on a day i kinda wanted to sing.

it’s not that i can’t speak on these days, i can physically make myself if i have to, it just takes more conscious effort sometimes than something like speaking should.

now, i used to chalk this up to being standard nonverbal bouts. i’d heard those were common among neurodivergents, and while i’m not officially diagnosed with anything (classic “everyone does that”/“that’s just something you got from me” type childhood), a lot of symptoms for both ADHD and autism (that i’ve heard of/looked into) match up pretty sharply with me.

however, no accounts from actually autistic people that i’ve read who go nonverbal at times really match up with my experiences. for me, it’s never a response to stress, anxiety, or overstimulation; it’s just something that happens on any given day and sometimes ebbs and flows throughout the day (as in sometimes it’s easier in some parts of the day, but not others, without any particular cue), and it’s never me going absolutely nonverbal, just a preference not to speak from it feeling like it’s too much to do sometimes.

remember that comparison i made to having to speak on “quiet days” feeling like trying to do basic things on bad depression days? yeah, i noticed on a day it hit that it felt very much like that, because i did feel it earlier that day; i found trying to make myself sing or even talk to myself out loud somehow felt like a process with too many steps and i didn’t have enough energy, just like trying to get out of bed that morning (to the point that i didn’t “get up” until that afternoon).

so, all that text and explanation leads to my one question: are these bouts and “quiet days” more from “going nonverbal” as a “symptom” of autism, or simply a symptom of my depression? or can it be chalked up to anything else at all? i’ve never seen or read anything about this on either side, and if it’s something from my depression, then that’s gonna make me take it much more seriously than i have been in the past. or like, is it just me and not anything at all?

any advice appreciated 🙏

#if this is from my depression all along i’m gonna scream but i need to know #because something like that’s really gonna push me to looking into getting it treated quicker #like antidepressants or therapy or something #because the idea of my depression being able to take away my ability/desire to TALK is honestly a terrifying concept to me #but i need to know; i’ve never heard of this being a symptom of depression but also doesn’t match many accounts of autistics going nonverba #actually it just being a me thing and not a thing i can attempt to fix might be worse #also hi mutuals who watched me put the pieces together earlier because i was pissed i couldn’t make myself sing 👋#grace being kinda serious for once #text post #personal #help #depression #autism #neurodivergence #going nonverbal #mental health #sorry i’m just adding every tag i can think of being somewhat related to this so i can get some answers from somewhere 😭

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