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wheatnoodle · 1 year

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part 3 :)

read part one and two

—

july 13th, 1989. it was on a pure gut feeling alone that max was biking to loch nora at just gone 9:30pm.

steve had dropped dustin off earlier at the arcade, around three in the afternoon, but an hour in, walkied to let him know mrs. byers would be driving him home. dustin whined and complained into the receiver, only to get short, tired answers from the older teen, and shortly after that, silence. he switched it off.

he’d been doing that quite a bit lately. shutting off. shutting up. shutting down. he’s putting space between himself and the rest of the world. but this time felt…different. it felt wrong, even. and so, max’s scores dropped. she lost at pac-man four times. and she’s barely got even thirty tickets.

she can’t focus. even as she skates home, her brain is heavy with concern for her friend. for her brother. she pushes her food around on her plate at dinner, stares blankly at the table while her mom- while susan cracks open another beer. her homework stays in her backpack and she lays on her back on her bed, searching for advice in the ceiling.

and so she waits until 9:15 rolls around and she hears susan crash on the couch. then max is up and toeing on her shoes, stepping out of her room. she grabs her bag, shoves in two cans of chicken noodle soup, and sneaks out the front door.

she really shouldn’t be riding her bike when it’s this dark out, her glasses only helping in the daylight. but she pushes forward anyways. she has to. she makes it to his house in no time and parks her bike next to the front door.

unlike dustin, max rings the doorbell. few seconds later and the door cracks open about a foot. god, he looks…awful.

“hey, kid. um…’m sorry, but now’s not a good time,” steve slurs as he speaks, runs an uncoordinated hand through his hair that’s so messy it looks like he’s been yanking it all night. her eyes focus in on the red splotches in his cheeks, tear tracks illuminated by the porch light. his eyes are red rimmed and puffy, making them even bigger, even browner. the neck is stretched out in his shirt, the scar across his throat an angry red with scratches up and down his skin. sweatpants slipping just slightly down his hips and showing off more scarring.

“actually, it seems like now is the right time,” max says softly and nudges her way inside. there’s empty beer cans on the floor, couch pillows and throw blankets strewn everywhere.

“sorry ‘bout the…y’know. the mess,” he mumbled and gestures vaguely to the living room. she turns to face him, takes in how exhausted he seems, how he curls in on himself.

her backpack hits the ground and max walks forward, throwing her arms around his neck and holding on as tight as she can. it takes a few seconds before he hugs her back, burying his face in the top of her head. she’s not even the slightest bit grossed out as she feels fresh tears in her hair. her heart clenches.

“I brought soup,” she says into his shoulder. it gets a weak laugh into her hair and she pulls back with a little smile. “i’m gonna go make that, ‘cause i didn’t eat and i don’t think you have either. i think you should come sit at the table while i make it because quite frankly, i don’t trust you to not fall down your basement stairs.”

he nods a bit, cringing at the pain in his head. “fair enough.”

she’s made dinner and cleaned up for her drunk mom plenty of times, it’s like second nature. but this time, it doesn’t feel like a chore. like something she has to do. she wants to do it. she wants to take care of him. she’s helping. he needs a friend, and she is here. just like he always is for her.

it’s silent while they eat. comfortable silence. and soon enough he’s sipping on a hot tea and she’s doing her homework across from him.

“did i ever tell you about the russians?”

she looks up when he breaks the quiet. his voice is scratchy, dry from all his tears. “hm?” she hums, pushes him to elaborate.

“the russians. at starcourt,” steve says casually, like he’s talking about the weather. it happens so often, it might as well be. she puts her pencil down.

“no. do you want to?” max asks. her full attention is back on him. the bags under his eyes are so dark.

“yeah. it’s heavy shit though, so you don’t have to hear it if you don’t want to.” it blows her mind that even in such a state, he offers her an out. he lets her know that he puts her above him.

“tell me about it.” she’s sure in her words. she’s grown too quickly. wise beyond her years. it breaks his heart.

“you know the mall was just a front for the russians and their gate to the upside down. i won’t bore you with how we got there, but we ended up in their like…lab, bunker thing? in like…the basement?” his brows are scrunched and he’s staring straight into his mug, playing with the teabag string. “and…and they saw us. me, robin, dustin, erica. god, i can’t believe i got those two involved-“

“you wouldn’t have been able to stop them if you tried. you know that,” max interrupts him. she knows how stubborn those two are. she also knows how undeniably loyal they are as well.

“yeah…yeah, i know. but…anyways, they saw us. and we’re getting chased by russian soldiers through this underground lab and i’m dressed like a fucking sailor with nothing but an ice cream scoop in my pocket.” max snorts at the memory of his old uniform. (though of course she can’t help but miss the shorts.) “yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. go on.”

“okay. so they’re chasing us, and we make it through this door. we get is shut and luckily, there’s this like hatch in the floor. and robin and i are using our whole body weight to hold this door closed. they’re pounding on the other side and it’s so loud. i’m yelling at the kids to go down that fuckin’ hatch. dustin just stops. looks like he’s gonna try and stay back. if i could kick him down that hole, i would.

“finally, the kid goes down and it’s at just the right time because they open the door. i don’t know what they did to robin, yelled at them not to hurt her, but they grabbed me and i’m being…dragged to this room. at some point they get cuffs on my wrists and the bench in this room is metal and it’s so, so cold. and they shut the door. big, heavy fuckin’ door. there’s two dudes there.” he pauses, shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“steve…you don’t need to it it’s too much to think about,” max says, reaches her leg across and kicks his shin. he looks like he’s been going back to that room tonight.

“no, ‘s fine. gotta at some point,” he shrugs. “anyways, they start asking all these questions. they start with like, how did you get down here? what do you know? how did you find us? and…and i keep telling them that it was a mistake, that like…our shipment didn’t come or some shit and we went to look for it. said the elevator fell. that wasn’t good enough. they didn’t believe me. and the other guy who’s standing there, he just starts…he’s…he’s just fuckin’…wailin’ on me.”

she watches with sad eyes as he mimics getting punched in the face, his own fist lightly connecting with his jaw.

“no matter what i said. and he’s…he’s asking me who i work for. i tell him the truth, tell him i work at scoops. fuckin’ ice cream, dude. might as well have been telling him the best joke he’s ever heard. the other one just keeps punching me. i can’t hear them anymore. i don’t remember when that happened, but suddenly my ears were just ringing and my eyes were so blurry, all i can see is my own blood. it’s all i can taste.”

his hands are trembling as he scrambles in his pockets for his pack of newports and a black bic lighter. when he can’t get it to light, she reaches across and takes the lighter, flicking the flame and holding it steady. he nods his thanks.

he pulls in deep, holding it in his lungs until it burns. “dude, i’m fuckin’ begging them at this point to just kill me. i can feel the bones in my face just like, breaking every time he punches me. at some point, i pass out. finally, y’know? in the back of my mind, i’m hoping i’m dead. and then i wake up! tied to a chair! and to make things worse, robin hasn’t gotten away because she’s tied to my back. and after i get the life beaten out of me, at some point she reminds me what an asshole i was. which sucked, i was already hurting. then they gave me the ol’ mad max.”

“the what?”

“needle in the neck with some random drug.” a hand covers her mouth. she can feels tears in her eyes that she tries to blink away.

“holy shit…who- who knows about this?” max’s voice shakes as she speaks. she wants to reach out, run her fingertips over the barely there scars. she pulls the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands instead (it’s two sizes two big since it’s technically not her’s but it’s been a hard night and he’s dead, so he can’t tell her not to take it anyways).

“hm…robin, dustin, erica…now you too,” he says, staring off into the distance. she can’t get him to meet her gaze. “every time i close my eyes, i’m back there. i can’t fall asleep without dreaming of being there, or being…eaten…by fucking bats in another dimension.”

“i get that. every day i see that…thing killing him. i see vecna…taking his image and using it to hurt me. i’m hoping the memories from in the creel house don’t come back though,” max mumbles. steve passes her a napkin and she realizes she didn’t do as good a job holding her tears in as she thought.

“i hope you don’t remember it either,” he agrees. “i hate it here.”

“where? this house, hawkins, or life?”

“all of the above?”

“fair.” she nods, takes a sip of her neglected water. “would you leave?”

he doesn’t say anything. just takes a drag from his cigarette and taps off the ash in an empty cup. a look takes over his face. like he’s searching for the right words to avoid hurting her.

“yeah. in a heartbeat.”

she can’t be mad at him. she gets it. she loves the family she’s made in hawkins, but if she had the choice, they never would have moved here. “have you been looking at places? like…outside of here?”

“i…” he sighs. he knows he can’t lie, not to max. “i was lookin’ at this little place out west. it’s all the way out in california.”

max smiles then. bright and crinkling her eyes. “you would love it there.”

“yeah?” he chuckles weakly, clears his throat of the smoke.

“yeah. the sun and the water. you can be a stupid volleyball jock.” that one gets a real laugh out of him, one that’s got him slapping a hand over his mouth and her snorting at him. “but really. if it feels right, like leaving here will…will make life even just a little bit easier, do it. we’ll be okay. you have saved us so many times, it’s time you save you too.”

“max…”

“steve. it’s over. you can take a break from fighting for your life.” she watches as it all seems to click into place. something in his eyes changes and she knows he’s made his decision.

he writes down the address in her math notebook. tells her that if she’s more than welcome any time.

“i don’t know what to do about eddie,” he mumbles with a heavy sigh, his shoulders deflating.

her brows pull together and she looks at him in pure confusion. “what about him?”

“just…i dunno…” he says into his tea mug. she takes a second to look at him, squints as she thinks things through. and then she’s nodding.

“personally, i think eddie will wait until you’re ready. nothin’ wrong with needing to focus on yourself for a bit. besides, you can’t get into a special friendship with a special friend if you’re just gonna drag them down because you haven’t given yourself the time you need to heal from the shit the world dealt you.” max leans back in her chair, sips more of her water.

it’s steve’s turn to squint at her, glancing at her with faux disgust. “since when did it become you giving me advice? supposed to be the other way around.”

she smirks cockily, crosses her arms over her chest. “what can i say, i’m like, really good at it.”

—

they’ve gathered in eddie’s government present mobile home, everyone far too cramped together but nobody uncomfortable. dustin thought it felt like safe ground to break the news to everyone.

they’re sitting around, staring up at robin who’s standing in the middle of the room as she explains the events of the past few days. how steve had acted at the bonfire, to him no call no showing a shift and not answering keith’s calls, all the way to dustin letting himself in to the harrington household.

“…everything was just…gone. it was like he…like he never even…existed,” she chokes on her words, tears overflowing her large eyes. there’s a collective gasp amongst the group. nobody knows what to say.

max leans back on the couch, out of most people peripheral. there’s a soft smile tugging at her lips. proud and in disbelief. he really did it. he chose himself for once.

she looks over to eddie, sitting on the other end of the couch and separated by lucas on the middle cushion. his eyes are wide, every single emotion running through his face until it settles on one.

realization.

slips into another.

desperation.

he will be there when steve is ready.

—

taggie waggies:

@wonderland-girl143-blog @callme-keys @biatcgh @kgne-k @hagbaby420 @24-7shipping @coolestjoy30 @emly03 @v3lnys @sirbackpains @imzadidragonfly @definitely-not-cereal-og @alienace @starlight-archer

#stranger things #steve harrington #max mayfield #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #stranger things fanfiction #fic wip #part 3 #steddie #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic

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boytoyhalo · 4 months

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hey fitpac nation I have a minor (but actually not that minor) bone to pick w yall

i keep seeing people say "oh screw your heteronormative dynamics" about pac calling fit his wife today, like in general I'm seeing a lot of implications that assigning fit the "feminine" role in their dynamic is somehow better or more progressive than assigning it to pac and. I seriously need you all to realize that assigning EITHER man in an m/m relationship the role of "wife" IS heteronormativity. Like, that's what we're doing when we call either of them, or actually any man, a "malewife". we are putting a heterosexual dynamic onto a homosexual relationship that's like the entire point

And like. I get that you think because pac is the smaller and less "traditionally masculine" out of the two (which I have separate thoughts about but that's a post for another day) it's somehow more subversive to assign the role to him but think about it critically for two seconds - why is fit "the wife"? because he's caring and devoted and shows love through acts of service? why are these traits that you associate with the role of wife - do you percieve these as inherently feminine traits? and following that train of thought, is Fit REALLY that much more typically masculine than pac is, or is part of the reason he seems that way just due to the difference in muscularity/size? Do you associate smallness/weakness with femininity?

Listen. the whole malewife thing is fun, we all love a bit of light-hearted forced feminization - but please, stop kidding yourselves. You are not more progressive or less heteronormative for assigning the big buff man the "feminine" relationship label than the people who do it to pac. At the end of the day it's still assigning heteronormative roles to a homosexual relationship, it's still doing so based on traits that you percieve as feminine because of heteronormativity.

and BTW this absolutely applies double if submissiveness is part of your idea of what makes a malewife (which lets be honest it is) why does being submissive make you a wife answer quickly. THATS STILL HETERONORMATIVITY FOLKS

#fitpac #discourse #I guess #your first mistake was viewing masculinity and femininity as opposing forces. your second was viewing them as monolithic constructs at all #qsmp shipping

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thedivineart · 1 year

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PICK A CARD: FACTS AND SECRETS OF YOUR GREATEST LOVE.

⠀⠀⠀꒰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⌷ .⠀⠀d i s c l a i m e r⠀⠀✿𝆬

[ 𝒜𝓇𝓉 ✧ ] any events and other things in your life are cannot be accurately predict by me and the tarot cards, do take a note that we are 'still' the creator of our 'future'- what you 'do' now will be the outcome of your future life and this could be either a good or bad, if your doing good and you are good to others expect the bright future ahead but in reverse you might expect the worst.

[ ℰ𝓂𝒾𝓈 ✧ ] to pick a pile, firstly take a good deep breath, second focus on every pile in the photo provided below { pile one, pile two, pile three }, and lastly scroll more down to reveal your reading. if you cannot still pick up any of the pile, do remember the sequence of what is written in the first sentence.

ꕀ ׅ࣪ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒹 ; facts and secrets of your ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ˡᵒᵛᵉ

[ 𝒜𝓇𝓉ℯ𝓂𝒾𝓈 ✧ ] grammatical errors ahead, if you're a perfectionist then leave this pac. I do write with so many flaws and I know it's not perfect since my first language isn't english.

-` 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝐷𝐼𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇 ´- ✰︵ — m a s t e r l i s t ´-

: ･. ﾟ ✧. : ･. ☽˚｡･ﾟ ✧: ･. :.

PILE ONE

seems that they likes socialising, sort of life of the party individual and may possibly that they got alot of friends since they value friendships however there's something happened between them and a friend ( probably group of friends ) which lead your person to feel victimize and got anxiety. either this called friend is hating/sabotaging them or bullying them, idk but this one 'friend' and your person isn't in good terms, definitely fear this 'friend' too. hmm, I feel that there's something fishing involve here, I think your person and this 'friend' have something before, like they tried to be in relationship before but actually failed to become stable. this person of yours may/already feel heartbreak and betrayal in their timeframe, even though they got friends they still feel need someone to fill their loneliness. on the other side, they literally got it all and might come from wealthy or wealthy by themselves (if they are a 'man'), high status in life and often in leadership position like in company being it's c.e.o or the boss where they work, actually they got multiple options and choices about their life, like they can get what they like unlike the others. however they tends to daydream and imagine often. also likes luxurious things or materialistic individual they are, they care about the money alot and good at handling it, they literally hate it when someone is late when there's a sched and call time when it be happen, but they are slow to be anger. when you see this person physically and in reality, you'll be having the thought of "they looks tough and cold individual" when it quite faraway from it, they know how to hide their innocence and vulnerability inside by hiding it on their appearance. one thing that keeps me interested with this individual, they willing to give it all if they love someone that's why often they end up feels of being disappointed and just hurting themselves but they know how to heal themselves too. knife and skull symbol might be prominent for this person maybe a tattoo or they like those symbols.

- dm me for personal readings

PILE TWO

tw: die, kill

soulmates connection here.there's two scenario here, first -they know within themselves that they are defensive being but of course they don't wouldn't tell it, if they found themselves in that situation they tends to walk away and leave that situation or where they are now, they want to leave and scape to that place but they don't know how, all they can do now is to be patient most of the time. and might be conservative in everything. they also know how to manifest specially to their desires, they believe that action and willingness with manifestation will lead you to a prosperous and secure life, at some point they prefer to work alone like being self employed. might be ailurophiles, they love cats. seems that they are more confident, if they achieve something or if someone is supporting them. they like to offer for people alot whether it's time, money or support from them. negative sides might be forgetful and hot tempered, idk if they are famous since they have alot of supporters maybe quite well known where field or place they are. they do believe success comes from hard work and overcoming obstacles, love how optimistic they are. finally a secret was channeled here, they may don't seem one as physically but they are very sensual individual who knows how to hide it. they do care about the animals specially if this is a cat and the humanity. you can easily may know their true identity by how they act in front of you. for some point, some people here may already know this person or will gonna know this individual this year. dang bruh, I'm shock to this message but this person having thoughts of wanting to die, they want to commit this sin or their anxiety is getting worst day after day, they want to tell it to someone but this person thinks that ' will they understand them even though they will tell it to someone'. s/he got the reason for it, the story behind of why they want to do it but might be afraid that no one will understand them. just a reminder that be observant to people who surround you, look how they behave and think before you outburst words coming from your mouth cause we don't know who suffer, this type of mental illness can kill, no kidding around.

- dm me for personal readings

PILE THREE

this person got powerful aura than the rest of the piles and somewhat seems that this pile is the combination of 1 and 2. they come from a wealthy/stable family/high status or inheritance from old people around their family, that's the reason why they don't suffer much when in comes to finances, this money may came from a masculine energy more likely the father or their grandpa. mostly who pick this pile, your person is more mature in appearance or by mentally or by age. might be working on authority level like the boss or in government and law or higher positions like manager, being team leader etc. for some people who pick this pile, I see that they still studying like maybe in higher grade than yours or simply this person loves to learn and very determine as well dedicated to what they are studying. however they may have fear that someone is more better than them, or they experience anxiety or deep unhappiness which causes to got some sleep paralysis/negativity. on the other hand, I'm seeing that they will overcome this one his/her obstacles. they tends to act hasty or bad mouthing and expressing how bitter they are in life maybe because of what they just experience, or they been/will face betrayal in life. they got big social cycle, alot of people know them and they know alot of people too, possibly that they are famous in their surrounding, however your person really knows who are the true and enemy to them or your person may feels that every people around them are not true and just want them for the money and fame specially if those individuals are his/her friends. they been wishing for healing from what people did to them for a very long period of time, they got solution and want to fly away to rest and ease this pain within themselves. they want some joy in their life and was eager for seeking it. as a addition, I see here that this person got some eagle eye or great observation, like they see it but other people wouldn't. everyone seems to respect this person and they know it, they know they are someone who should be respected too ( seems overbearing for me ). when they talk they are too honest to their words and doesn't care if the someone may feel hurt from it or spilling tea is one of their habit/mannerism. one more thing, they think people around them are ugly ( lol, that's bad ) like they based on physical appearance but of course they will keep it by themselves however if you focus on their eyes you can see the judging looking.

- dm me for personal readings

[ 🤎. ] Hello! Thank You so much for checking out this pac reading, if you ever like it please do follow and reblog for more pac. Let me know what you feel by commenting down below...

© thedivineart — do not plagiarize any of my work, translate or repost it on other social media platform , do remember that this is only my official account where all my pac are posted, if you ever see something like mine from word by word kindly report it to me, thank you<3. theme is included

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luxthestrange · 1 year

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RoR Incorrect quotes#99 Cards Against Humanity

You SOMEHOW roped the gods and some humans to play a card game...they didn't expect what was coming given they thought "Cards against Humanity" sounded like something they make...Poor Deities

Heracles*Has a card and reads it*"Rumor has it Prince wouldn't perform without..."*Sees the card one of the cards gave for the answers to the main card and snickers*"Dwayne the rock johnson in his dressing room!"

Aphrodite: Me too~

Heracles*Sees the next card and jumps covering his face and looks embarrassed and ashamed even*...My love why...*Looks at you with kicked-puppy gaze not wanting to say the possible answer*

Y/n*With an "innocent" grin looks at him*Read the card~

Gods*Look confused...what could have HERCULES so possibly so skittish*

Heracles*Looks up at the ceiling and sniffles with thinned lips trying not to cry, DOESNT wanna say it*

Shiva: Prince won't perform without?...

MORE sniffles and whimpers come from Heracles as he shakes his head...

Hermes:...You need some help?*Raises brow at him*

Heracles*Shakes his head and takes a deep breath with a squeaky voice*I-I got it..."Pedophiles"*Puts the card answer on the table*

-Immediate WHEEZE from some of the gods but...the humans lost it-

Poseidon*Sighs and rubs his temples in shame*...

Heracles*Thinking that was the worst card and sees the other answer and shrieks in a high-pitched voice* OH SHIT-*Slides a bit lower in his chair*

Loki:...IT GOT WORSE FROM ZEUS-I MEAN PEDOPHILES!?*looks in shock at him and then at You who is smiling with an evil glint in eyes*

Heracles*In an EVEN high-pitch voice, he didn't KNEW was possible* SO MUCH WORSE!?-

-Everyone lets out laughs at his voice-

Heracles: I DONT KNOW IF I CAN READ THIS-*Fans his face and takes deep breaths to calm himself down*

Thor*Next to Heracles, seeing his face with a closer look*...There are tears

Heracles: "Pac-man uncontrollably guzzling c-m"*said it thru squeaks and mid whimpers and...maybe laughter at his own pain for saying it*

-Everyone LOSING IT...

Poseidon has left the building-

The gods never looked at the humans the same ever again after that game...

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king-crawler · 4 months

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The Disney villain book i ordered 3 weeks ago finally came and the sleeve was oily and chafed but at least I get the fabled single paragraph of King Candy insight

this is truly a game changer

And ralf

[TEXT DESCRIPTION BELOW]

Page 166: Disney Villains: Delightfully Evil.

KING CANDY - WRECK-IT RALPH.

RELEASE DATE: November 2, 2012.

DIRECTOR: Rich Moore.

VOICE TALENT: Alan Tudyk.

ANIMATOR: Zach Parrish.

"Everyone should have known with a pass code like UP, UP, DOWN, DOWN, LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT, B, A, START that this sugary-sweet king was not on the up-and-up. Who in the gaming world doesn't know that cheat code?! King Candy is the ruler of Sugar Rush, a video game made of everything sweet to eat, or as a wise Wreck- It Ralph sees it, a "candy-coated heart of darkness.' " But Sugar Rush was not always such a dark place; it was once a happy kingdom where Princess Vanellope von Schweetz ruled until an evil racer from a game called Turbo Time messed with her code and took her game for his own. The biggest shock? King Candy and that villainous racer known as Turbo are one and the same. Alan Tudyk, the voice of King Candy, said he had imagined King Candy to be a much bigger character, size-wise, and found it really funny that he was actually such a small man."

“Portrait of King Candy. Artist: Clay Loftis. Medium: Digital."

“Final Frames of Turbo from Wreck-It Ralph (2012)”

"Concept art of Turbo. Artist: Jim Kim. Medium: digital."

Page 184: Disney Villains: Delightfully Evil.

WRECK-IT RALPH - Wreck-It Ralph.

RELEASE DATE: November 2, 2012.

DIRECTOR: Rich Moore.

VOICE TALENT: John C. Reilly

ANIMATOR: Nik Ranieri

“Wreck-It Ralph is a "bad guy" who has been forced to spend every day for the last thirty years trying to destroy the apartment building that took his home away and to thwart Fix-It Felix from fixing everything Ralph wrecks. After "wrecking" the thirtieth anniversary celebration of his game, Ralph decides to go on a quest to earn a medal and prove to everyone, including himself, that he can be a good guy and do good things. In an interview with the Los Angeles Times, director Rich Moore said that the idea for Wreck-It Ralph came when he was asked by Walt Disney Animation Studios to revamp an idea they had been working on for a while: a movie that takes place in a video game. "Video game characters do the same job every day," said Moore. "I don't know how you could tell a story about that, and then it kind of hits me. ... What if the main character did not like his job? If you had a character who is actually wondering: Is this all there is to life?" "

Concept Art of Vanellope and Ralph. Artist: Bill Schwab. Medium: digital.

Page 185: Disney Villains: Delightfully Evil.

Story sketches of Ralph. Artist: Jim Kim. Medium: Graphite

Final character pose of Ralph.

Final frame of ralph with the Bad-Anon support group from Wreck-It Ralph, 2012.

“Bad-Anon-One Game at a Time

"I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be than me."

-The Bad Guy Affirmation

Evervone needs a little help from their friends, even if their friends are a group of "bad guys." Bad-Anon is a place where the who's who of gaming bad guys can meet and talk about their feelings and what it is like to always be the one everyone loves to beat. Here are some of the familiar faces from the video games of the 1980s and 1990s.”

Bowser--King Koopa from Super Mario Bros.

Clyde--Ghost from Pac-Man.

Dr. Robotnik- -as himself from Sonic the Hedgehog.

Kano--as himself from Mortal Kombat.

M. Bison--as himself from Street Fighter.

Neff-as himself from Altered Beast.

Zangief-Red Cyclone from the Street Fighter series.

[TEXT DESCRIPTION END]

#the illustration is the best part #I knew there’d only be a page on him LMAO I’m not mad #I will still read the whole book in full ❤️#wir #wreck it Ralph #turbo #king candy #🐛VIRUS OFFERINGS #Disney villains #Disney villains: delightfully evil #concept art #alt text #book #wir Art Book

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222voyce · 2 years

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-apology for being inactive- astro observation 🥹

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆5 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

🌸Sagittarius suns are pretty great at music. No lie. and they tend to be the most cultured. (Nikki Minaj) I feel tho any mutable sign can be creative— not saying everyone else can’t be— they are just analytic, dreamy, dramatic, great writers.

🌸Aquarius are the type to do things no one else does— and they are pretty known for it.

🌸Cancer moons/risings talk to themselves. Yea. We do. What about it? Water placements in general tend to talk/mutter to themselves

🌸Lol why do aqua women love aqua men soooo much? Also for what I’ve noticed they love foreign races. lol it’s cute but y’all feral.

🌸Cancer moon/rising/ water dominant considers everyone’s feelings and really don’t want to disappoint. They have a hard time saying no only because they don’t want to hurt your feelings or seem unreliable. It’s okay to say no, just tell them. If they react badly then don’t do anything for them anymore. Please set boundaries!!

🌸Virgo Venus’ like to look at every flaw and will find something to get mad or icked out about. They tend to want their partner to change but they can’t handle it when someone tells them *politely* to stop something. It can be anything. They will scream hypocrisy. They are also hypocrites themselves. Sorry if this was biased. It is.

🌸Scorpio risings… hmm I’ve never really met one? Like they’re rare. My god dad is one .. I think lol. They’re pretty hard to pin down. If I did meet one idk if Id know.

🌸Okay Taurus venus’ have that taste that’s just so— ngh!~~. Candle lit bath? Roses on the bed??! They also aren’t into rushing into things. That will turn them off. Take it slooowwww

🌸Libra mars men— they don’t know man. They are just as bad as libra suns. Cant make up their mind. They will talk to different people and tell everyone the same thing. Huge flirts. But they get anxious easily.

🌸Leo mars— AHHHH sorry. They make my libra ass go crazy, Leo suns too. Omg they— their energy is so🫶🏾🥴🥴🫦🫦 like bro?! WHY ARE YOU SO DAMN SEXY?! I WILL C*M ON THE FLOOR RN!! *cough* sorry.

🌸Virgo risings are smart as fuck. Virgo suns too. My baby cousin is literally 3 and can speak in FULL sentences?! Virgos minds are just so great. Maybe it’s because Virgo is ruled my Mercury.

🌸Pisces suns are neat. They are dreamy and love to imagine things. They get caught up in the idea but they are also very…real? My ex was very analytical and observant. He could tell what I was thinking sometimes.. like it was freaky. Cute people tho. Nice faces. (I won’t ever say this irl but I’m big simps for y’all.)

🌸12h Saturn might have an issue with routine which makes them have a self esteem issue. They also tend to have a hard time keeping up with their mind. It’s truly fight between head an heart. If they don’t have great coping mechanisms, they might resort to drugs and alcohol.

🌸11h North Node is sooo UNDERRATED!! I have this and I barely see anything on it. Like it’s literally our DESTINY to follow our dreams and love how we want!! Like bro?! But we were also outcasts or casted out by friends or families. Bullied often— we are also here to learn that we don’t need validation from anyone else but ourselves!!

🌸4h suns. Let’s all sing kumbya and find inner piece within ourselves. Family is exhausting. And it feels like we do everything for everyone *huggggeee cough* we do. But it’s gunna be okay!! I hope…

🌸heheh being a Scorpio venus is fun but so fucking annoying because yes we’re hot but we don’t want anyone to perceive us and we can barely ask out our crush. We just stare at them from across the room like 👁🫦👁. We wild and ride or dies tho.

Thank you so much for reading!! like I said, sorry for being inactive!! I will have your pac readings up tomorrow!!

#astro observations #astrology #astro notes #astro community #astroblr #tarotblr #libra #tarotcommunity #zodiac signs #6th house #12h #saturn #11house #north node #scorpio rising #cancer #cancer moon

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raffe156 · 1 year

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Escape to the country part 1

Pairing - Price X MC (Tank) F!reader

Summary - Road trip with Price back down to his house for a weekend in the country? Yes please haha oh an Kyle is there too.

A/N -So happy people loved the First part of this storyline like I said was nervous to post it, but so happy with the response! As promised here’s the Road trip and weekend away mentioned in “You broken?” had to write it haha had to be done. It’s turned into a beast so will be in parts 💖

We know Price has a nice house, we just know. Little mood board to help give you the visual. As always feedback encouraged and comments welcomed! Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!

Escape part 2

Warnings for the whole storyline - 18+, Angst, Language, Alcohol, smoking, mentions of PTSD, mutual pining, fluff, Age gap Relationship feelings, Price (39) reader (Tank, 25) mentions of family, pregnancy, domestic fluff

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters Only Tank

Later chapters- smut,🥵 Masturbation (M+F), fingering, slight possessiveness,

Tags: @irnbru32 @shuttlelauncher81 @mildlyhopeless

Price was parked up outside the address you had given him, he took a quick look in his rearview mirror he looked tired, but he had been up since 4:30. The drive had only taken 2 and a half hours and the roads were quiet for a Friday morning. He sent you a quick text

“Outside“

He looked up at the house, a large detached Edwardian house he was impressed it was a nice street. He turned the radio up to hear the news while he waited for you.

*****

Was he early? He could have sworn you said you would be ready for 9 am outside with your weekend bag it was getting close to 10 now. Should he knock on and let you know, he was here? He couldn't exactly beep his horn it was early…had he come to the right address? He quickly scrolled through his phone looking at your message, he was at the correct address. Maybe you had slept in late…were still trying to get ready and pack, he was always on at you for being the last to pack your stuff up when you were moving location or maybe…he didn't even want to think it but maybe you had changed your mind and got a better offer to do something else and didn't know how to tell him? Why was his mind racing? He was a practical man. Why did you get him so worked up? Noticing the blinds twitch in the front room he switch the engine off and stepped out of the car, it was a cold morning the sun just peaking out, you never did like getting up when it was cold he thought. He made his way up the steps and onto your path.

“Will you please come away from the bloody window mum!” - You were still shoving things into your luggage. You had checked the weather app a million times already and still didn’t think you had enough layers packed. How had a muppet like you passed selection you thought?

“Oh, he's getting out of the car love.”

“Shit…Right if I’ve forgotten something ill have to make do” - You shoved your jacket on your shoulder still sore and stiff not quite right yet. Checking your face in the hallway mirror you looked tired, but Price had seen you worse. A knock at the door, you couldn't help the smirk on your face. He will be fuming, you thought, “always the last to pack.” You opened the door fully expecting a telling off but no there he was Your Captain stood in your porch with that eye-crinkling smile that you couldn't help but return. He was wearing his usual north face coat, blue jeans and his Solomon’s, his blending in clothes you called them, but you noticed he was wearing the black beanie you had mended for him while stationed at the base.

You could tell because the stitch was green. You had used up all the black trying to stitch yourself up after being shot in Colombia, you had tried to hide it from him but he had found you at 3am unable to keep your skin together and stitch at the same time. Had he worn it on purpose? No, he probably just grabbed it going out the door.

“Sorry I'm late, was still pac…”

“Packing…I knew it would be that, don’t worry about it…” though he wasn't one to pry Price wondered what the inside of your home looked like, what creature comforts you held, and the term organized chaos came to mind.

“You live here alone kid?” He had heard you talk about your parents maybe a sister and definitely a Family dog but he didn't know if they were close by.

“No haha her live on her own? She couldn't cope never liked her own company this one!” - Your Mother prized the door open behind you.

“Thanks, mum, don't think the captain needs to know that”

“Ohhh Captain heard so much about you? What’s your full name love? Your off duty now!”

“John Price Ma’am” - there was that smile again, you raised your eyebrows at him was he putting the charm on to your mum? Before she could start you started pulling the door to on her.

“Right best be off, I’ll see you when I'm back!”

“Oh ok love, don't do anything I wouldn’t do! Nice to put a face to a name John!” You could kill her you thought.

“Likewise, here hand me your bag” Price reached down pushing your hand out from the strap.

“Where was this when you had me carrying that 30kg Bergen across the base?”

“As your mother said off duty now aren’t we? Those rules don't apply…” He smiled at you lifting the bag up and over his shoulder., the slight wince on his face didn't go unnoticed by you but you were more focused on the thought of no rules apply.

Price started back towards the car.

“So you talk about me to your mum?” Price couldn't help the grin and couldn't help but notice you fluster at the insinuation.

“Yes…Cap, I talk about you with my mum haha”

“Hmm what do you say about me? Oh, No titles this weekend just John will do” John. His name rang around your head. What was wrong with you?

“That your snoring is the reason I look so tired…and your cigars are why all my clothes smell like smoke”

Price stopped at the boot turning to you, his snoring?

“What about your sleep talking?”

“…Fair enough”

You thought back to those nights you had been woken gently by him reassuring you no one else was in the room, no one was trying to get you, no one was at the door trying to get in and the gunshots were just in your head. You would go back to sleep knowing he was there protecting you from the terrors that sleep brought.

Price opened the passenger door for you, with a smirk always the gentleman. You hopped in admiring the interior, the smell of fresh air mixed with cigar smoke and leather filled your lungs, you breathed it in smiling.

“Right you ready to go kid?”

You nodded, giving him your best smile.

Price felt his heart flutter slightly at seeing you there next to him outside of work outside of a mission, no rank, No Captain, no sergeant just you and him, civilians. You buckled your seat belt, Price jiggled the buckle.

“Just checking you're strapped in…don’t want you falling out” his smirk spread from ear to ear. He was making a joke. You grinned.

“Do you think your funny?”

“Yes, I do.”

*******

You were halfway there, so far you had spoken about the weather, music and were now on the topic of the physiotherapy you both were having, Price had missed 3 sessions insisting it wasn’t the first time he’d been shot and wouldn’t be the last! This caused the discussion to turn into a slight argument.

“You need to go to them…if I didn’t go to them you would have my head!”

“Well, that’s different.”

“Why is it different, John?” He liked the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth.

“It just is…anyway you said you were going to pack snacks for this road trip?”

You opened your mouth to object to his end of, but thought better of it.

“Yeh, in my bag…did you put it on the back seat?” You twisted up in your seat trying to fit yourself between the gap of the front seats.

“For Christ's sake, what are you doing?” Price looked over at you, only to see your backside wriggling as you reached down behind his seat. Eyes on the road John he told himself.

“My damn shoulder…can’t reach snacks…oh wait I know what to do!” You swung back into your seat reaching down for the lever to recline the seat.

“Hang on a minute kid….”

Too late you were now flat already rolling over onto your front to reach the bag.

“Got it! Haha,” You looked up at him as you lay flat on your back thrusting the small shopping bag up into the air causing a bar of Bournville to fall out onto Price’s lap. He briefly looked down.

“Is that Bournville…rum raisin?”

“Yes…it's your favorite isn’t it?”

“Yeh…it is how did you know that?” Price couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Kyle told me…thought he was joking at first, clearly he wasn't” You felt smug with yourself but wished you had got him the bigger bar now seeing his face.

“He wasn't joking, it is my favorite, thanks kid.”

“Want me to open it for you?” You were already reaching into his lap for it, your hand grazing his jeans, pulling it open with your teeth, Price had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road again.

“Here…” You had broken a piece off for him offering it up, still lying flat. Before he even thought to use his hand to take it from you, he leaned down mouth open for you to pop it in giving you a quick glance before his eyes had to be back on the road. You popped it in his mouth your fingers grazing his lips as they closed around the small square. His mustache tickling your fingers. The action caused your face to flush slightly. What was wrong with you? You put the bar in the center console next to his flask.

“Thanks…You gonna sit up or you down there for the rest of the journey?” Price said with his mouth full.

“Might stay down here…quite comfy” You rummaged through the bag looking for something to eat, but your mind was now elsewhere. You could see Price in your peripheral stealing quick glances at you, noticing the little smile on his face. You needed to get a grip.

********

You finally sat back up when Price said you were a few minutes away from his house. The village was lovely, quaint your head was practically on a swivel looking around not wanting to miss a thing. Price felt a sense of pride at your appreciation for his little town.

“You’ll have plenty of time to visit every shop and bar kid, haha, I'll make sure of it” he was chuckling at you.

“Good”

Price pulled down a country lane, huge oak trees created a canopy overhead, you craned your neck looking out the windscreen then out of nowhere two houses appeared nestled amongst the trees.

“Home sweet home”

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting it to look like this. I’m Impressed haha.”

You really were you noticed the huge ground-to-roof window as you pulled up it was amazing.

“Right Kyle said he would get a taxi here, so he shouldn’t be long.”

Price got out of the car going in the back for your bag. You followed him to the front door, the gravel drive crunching under your boots. Price held the door open for you ushering you in first. You walked in sheepishly, this was his home the place he retired to between mission, his sanctuary an he was allowing you entry. Price was a stoic man he never really gave anything away about his personal life, but every now and then he would let slip a small token or insight into his outside life. His life outside of being your Captain and every time he did you were grateful as it made you feel as though you knew him that little bit more.

Only recently had you seen a different side to him when you and Kyle had fallen out the hit helo and then when you had been shot he had stayed with you till you were ready to be discharged from the med bay. An even then he had watched you like a hawk any sign of discomfort he had leaped into action asking where it hurt you told yourself it was out of guilt for taking a bullet for him, but if you were being honest you knew he would of done the same for you…or Kyle, you thought.

“This is lovely John.”

“Thanks, I do what I can to it when I get the chance ha” He placed your bag at the bottom of the staircase. He removed his hat an coat and gestured for yours.

“Kitchen through there, Snug next to that and I'll take you upstairs an show you the bedroom…” His face flushed immediately. You cocked your eyebrow at him.

“I mean my room…your room!”

“Haha I know what you meant, calm down! I want the best room, do I have to remind you I did take a bullet for you so I expect the level of service I deserve.”

“Oh do you now? I’m sure we can work something out for you miss, You are in our I’ve taken a bullet for you club” You both laughed.

“Want a drink, I got that cold brew stuff you like? The one that makes you and Kyle Hyperactive” You followed Price through the double doors into the large country kitchen.

“Oh please, that would be nice. I’m Knackered.”

“You slept on the way here..”

“For like 30 minutes!”

Price shook his head smiling, He flipped the kettle on for his own tea, steaming hot, dash of milk, 3 sugars you recited it in your head smiling. Reaching into the double fridge, he pulled out the pre-made cold brew you and Kyle drank when you could get it. You held your hand out for the carton. Price raised his eyebrow at you.

“Erm no I don’t think so…you can drink it out of a glass like an adult, also you need to share it with Kyle only have two more cartons and the way you two drink this stuff I don’t think it will last till morning…ice?”

“Please…” You sighed, you caught a glimpse of the snug, making out the huge stone fireplace. Sitting yourself down at the table you noticed it had seats for 7 you could also feel the heat from the double aga oven behind him.

“You entertain a lot? 7 seater table and the big aga behind you? I know you can cook eggs but can’t imagine you cracking out the charcuterie boards?” Price handed you your drink, he leant forward on the table.

“I don’t, I’m afraid kid…you and Kyle are the first real guests I've had since getting the place liveable.”

“What really? This place is huge, perfect for a family I could just imagine the kids playing in the garden, chasing them around the island because they haven’t washed their hands or all sitting at the table for breakfast a high chair would fit nicely at the end……” You realised you had said too much. Price had his eyebrows raised looking at you.

“You offering Tank?”

“Hahaha no…I'm just saying…don’t like the thought of you all alone up here.”

Price felt that little flutter again when the thoughts flashed across his mind. He looked around the kitchen. A loud Saturday morning just as you had described chasing little legs and sleepy heads, soft giggles and porridge on the floor, chaos but the best kind. He liked the thought. He was pulled from his brief daydream by the sound of the kettle brewing, he turned to pour the water into his mug.

“Well, I haven’t been totally alone…remember that Doc from Ireland? She’s been up to see the house it wasn't finished not even watertight but she came for a visit, do you know who I mean?”

“…Yeah, I know who you mean….”

You couldn't help your tone, you had no right but you could feel the green stain of jealousy creeping up into your head.

You remembered her very well fur coat no knickers Kyle had said. She had near smothered Price when you 3 had come back to the base checking him over for injuries but wholly ignored you and Kyle, Kyle was limping from jumping off a shipping container (to be fair it was your fault you said he wouldn’t make it) you had a gash on your forearm from taking cover in the gravel, but no she was tending to Price and his paper cut he had got from a case file he had been waving about in your face that morning - something about not following protocol.

Either way, she rubbed you the wrong way, but the thought of her up here alone with him got you and it wasn't the kind of company you had meant…but what company did you mean…you? Stop. Price noticed your angry little face, he knew you didn't like the Doctor you had made it very clear back in Ireland.

“Anyway, she's not my type. Talked too much….”

“I talk too much…” - the words were out before you could claw them back in. Stop it.

“Yeah well, that's different I…I like when you talk too much..” He meant it, he would take your over chatting and loud days over the silent ones when you put up a wall, a wall he could only peer over to offer a hand to pull you over it. You gave him a soft smile.

‘Right want to come pick your room? Kyle will be here soon.” You nodded, taking a quick sip of your drink.

“Lead the way Captain” you gestured your arm out for him to lead.

“I said no titles….”

“I know I'm winding you up..”

Price shook his head, leading you back into the hall, picking up your luggage and up the huge oak stairs.

“First guest bedroom on the right, then further down second and third guest rooms then mine right at the back next to the main bathroom. I was thinking you could stay in the guest room next to mine as that has an en-suite and the best views of the field behind.”

You looked up at him blankly.

“Let me see all the rooms and I'll decide which one haha!” You scurried past him, glancing in the doorway of the first room.

“Lovely but nope…next one”

Price chuckled as you made your way down to the other two guest rooms, the one he mentioned had the door open and as soon as you looked in the view hit you in the face it was stunning green fields and a lake, this was the kind of view you didn't get living in the city.

“I'll take this one, please!” You turned to face him, not realising he was right behind his face smug.

“What? What's that look about?”

“No, nothing I just knew you’d like this one….” He slid past you popping your luggage on the dresser and sitting himself down on the edge of the big king-size bed.

“I'll show you how to work the shower later, it’s a bit fiddly new pipes and all that lot either scald yourself or freeze, but If you need anything in the night, I’m just next door, anything at all you know me I’m a light sleeper” he laughed.

You both knew he wasn’t.

“Hahaha light sleeper? I’ve slept next to you a few times John, your not a light sleeper!” You stepped into the room and stood next to him at the bottom of the bed looking around then back at him, giving him a smile you placed your hand on his broad shoulder, the heat as always radiating off him.

“I think I'll be fine, but I know where to find you if I have a bad dream haha”

He looked at you, both eye level due to the height of the bed, giving you that eye-crinkling smile that you couldn’t help but return. Your hand still on his shoulder.

“Well, I’ve got plenty of room in my bed if you do…”

The image must of flashed through both of your minds at the same time as you both had gone slightly pink. Price opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Kyle. You didn't know whether to slap him or thank him, but either way, it wasn't just the two of you anymore, maybe that was for the best?

You removed your hand and stepped back towards the dresser. Price was still sitting on the bed, you clocked him looking at your back in the mirror his face still flushed. Had he overstepped the line? What was the line even for? Why was there even a line to begin with? The doorbell went again.

“Better go let Kyle in, eh?” He got up and walked to the door. He hesitated for a moment.

“Thanks, John, I’ll be down in a sec,” you said, giving him your best smile. He returned it with his.

“No problem kid” he looked relieved. The doorbell went again and was followed by a heavy knock.

“Why is he so impatient? If he’s marked my door he will be sleeping in the shed” Price grumbled as he closed your door to.

You tidied up your hair in the mirror giving it a brush through, all of a sudden you felt giddy your stomach feeling light, surely he hadn’t meant it like that…had he? What if he had? Either way, this weekend was going to be entertaining to say the least.

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sexyinaratkindaway · 3 months

Text

Leave All your Love and your Longing Behind

Rating: E

Fandom: QSMP

Pairing: FitMC/Pactw

Summary: In Purgatory, two almost-lovers meet on the battlefield, feral as dogs and just as beaten, to find comfort in each other.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53085622

Pac is scared.

Of course he’s scared.

Why wouldn’t he be?

This isn’t Purgatory. After Purgatory ends, fire and brimstone and purifying gold, Heaven awaits.

This isn't Purgatory.

They're in Hell, and Pac doesn't know what he's being punished for, but he must have deserved it, for Hell to be so vivid and terrible. Instead of devils tormenting him, it's his friends, his family.

Forever is there, Mike is there, thank the Goddess, but so is Cell— Cellbit —and so is Fit, beautiful, dangerous, cruel, kind Fit. He’s at his most handsome like this; bloodstained, cruel, scarred and dirty and grungy, blood in his nail beds and stubble on his chin and dirt in his scales. He’s handsome as the sun, as howling wind and tall mountains and thunderous waterfall, and Pac is, irrevocably, unendingly, in love with him. He can't bring himself to hate him when he catches sight of him, manic and dust-covered and bloodstained, so different and yet so familiar. They cross paths on the battlefield, again and again and again; again and again and again they brush shoulders without the time to really face off. Pac is happier that way; he doesn’t know if he wants Fit to see him like this.

Because Purgatory has turned them all into animals, and Pac is no exception: his lungs itch, his throat hitches, his skin burns, from the toxic fog and the acid rain and the sand swallowing him whole; he’s gaunt and hungry, howling like a dog, his undershirt is torn and dusty and stained, his hoodie tattered and dirty, the only colour left about him the scabbed over, bloody cuts that tatter him all over, and the too-bright blue that, he knows, shines in his eyes like headlights. It’s a curse, it makes him too visible; but being visible has its advantages, in battle as in stalking. He’s just come out victor of a duel—with Cellbit, what a pretty coincidence—when he spots Fit spotting him, and he can see the emerald green spotlights of Fit’s eyes shift and tighten and widen when they land on him.

He grins at him, waves his arm in the air like everything is normal and perfect. Like there's no droplets of blood swinging in the air from his brisk movement. Fit jogs the distance between them closed, the lightest of limps in his stride, and Pac feels himself frown. He kicks Cellbit's body to the side, lifeless and pale and limp and empty, finishes stuffing the last of his things in his backpack. His knife feels odd in his hand, heavy in the blade and light in the handle like it wants to jump out of his grasp. He tucks it in a holster on his thigh and turns to Fit.

"Fit!" He says, and barely holds back from drawling out the end of his name into the soft, tender fricative it so badly wants to be in his mouth.

Fit, despite himself and what his better instincts say, smiles.

"Pac," he says. It’s a tender, low, breathy sigh, a parched man who can’t believe his luck, finding a puddle of clear water. Pac is his water, and he doesn’t know the water’s poisoned. “Pac, God, what happened to you?”

“Just tired,” Pac says, nonchalant. He runs a hand through his hair to pull it out of his forehead, huffs when the too-long locks fall right back over his eyes. He smiles, and hopes they crinkle with it even if he doesn’t feel it. “Might just give up on this and do like you, cut it all off. What happened to you ?”

He nods his chin in direction of Fit’s leg, stiff, pained. It’s his left.

Fit chuckles. “Oh, just a bad fall I took a couple days ago. ‘M fine.”

Pac knows it was the tigers. Pac doesn't say, and grins instead. "At least now we match!"

He lifts up his left leg, bends it back and forth at the knee. It goes smoothly, but screeches an ugly sound when he bends it back too far, and Fit's handsome face crumples into a sympathetic grimace.

“That can’t be good for stealth.”

“Eh, I just can’t crouch too far. I’ve been meaning to oil it, but…”

Not much oil in Purgatory, and what little is there is better used on machinery, on farms. As long as Pac can walk and stand, he can conserve the oil.

“Can't be good for stealth.”

“I don't need stealth.”

“This guy tried stealth on you?”

Pac laughs a wheezy little breath, nudging Cellbit's corpse with his running hook. It's warm, still twitching.

“Nah, he tried to be honourable; came to me face to face. I respect that, even if I think it was to get me to panic more.”

“Well, that obviously didn't work.” Fit's words are all a chuckle, low, gravelly with misuse. If that hadn't been enough to make Pac quiver, then the way he stared at the mess of blood and guts on the floor, staining Pac's still open scythe, cold and calculating and hungry , would have been.

“Nice scythe,” Fit says, and then squeezes his eyes shut like he can't believe he said something that stupid; Pac feels laughter bubble in his throat, and for a moment they're back home.

“I see,” he says, “you only like me for my scythe.”

He enjoys seeing Fit sputter and blush, loves the look of his handsome cheeks bloody red under the scales, grimy and dirty on his face, the bashful smile stretching his lips.

“Well, it's a very nice scythe. Looks… well-made.”

“It’s not better than my scythe back home.”

“Yeah, I be–”

“What are you doing here, Fit?”

And that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What is Fit doing, all alone, so close to team Soulfire’s base?

Fit doesn’t answer, mirth blown out of his eyes, mouth set in a grim line, and Pac knows, he knows. He pulls his MDA from his pocket, stares at Fit’s name on the screen, looks back at Fit. “Who do you have to kill?”

Fit’s eyebrows twitch. He doesn’t pull his phone out.

“You.”

It’s like he has to wrench the words out of his throat to say them, but Pac feels a weight lift off of his shoulders, relief settle around his nape like a scarf, his mouth stretch in a smile.

“Oh, thank the Goddess. Now it’s easy. I also have to kill you, you know?”

Fit is staring at him like he doesn’t understand his glee, and to be fair, he probably doesn’t.

“Why don’t we just spar for it, right here, right now? And who loses dies.”

“I’m not killing you,” Fit says.

“Why did you come here, then?”

Fit doesn’t have an answer to that. He swallows empty air, shifts his weight on his feet, doesn’t say anything, eyes—too green, too bright—stuck on Pac.

“Do it for our children,” Pac says, and he knows it’s low, he knows it’s cruel , but he doesn’t care, he needs this, he needs this, after fighting Cell, after winning Cell, the stench of blood and feces still high in the air, he needs this with Fit. He needs to feel him. “We have to do it to save our children.”

“You're cruel, Pac.” He is reaching for his sword.

"I need it, Fit, and so do you.” Pac smiles, takes a step back and raises his hand in a grand gesture. “Will you do me the honour," he's hoarse, with joy, with adrenaline, at the sole thought of getting to taste Fit's blade, "of a dance?"

Fit looks down at his outstretched palm, blood under his nail beds, staining his fingerprints, he looks down at the scythe held tight in Pac's hand.

He smiles at him, all teeth.

"It would be my pleasure."

Pac has never been more in love than he is now. Their blades meet, iron and diamond, and never has Pac's heart sung louder than now, guided by the tempo allegro that their weapons beat. Fit is strong, stronger than Pac, the force behind the blow of his mile-long sword makes Pac’s arms quiver, but he’s strong too, and he’s got the advantage of a hooked blade by his side, of a smaller size and strong legs made for running. He jumps circles around Fit, and the man struggles to follow him, but his face is grim, his eyes are steely, full of the glacial wind of a killer with a target in his crosshairs, Pac is his target and his sword sings for blood and Pac wants nothing more than to let go of his scythe and feel the stinging kiss of needle-sharp diamond as it sinks through his ribs and makes tartare of his guts; his belly rumbles with desire at the sole thought.

But he has to try. He has to give it his all, if nothing else than out of the respect he feels for Fit; he’ll give the man a fair fight.

Fit is quick, is relentless with his sword, chases Pac like inevitable death, but Pac twirls his scythe around, catches every hit with the wooden hilt of his scythe, and the strength of Fit’s arms reverberates through Pac, and he knows the poor wood, if nothing else, is not going to come out of this fair fight unscathed.

A fair fight, apparently, is too much of a challenge for Fit, because it only takes a bit of tussling—a minute? Though it feels like they’ve been fighting for a year—for him to end up flat on the ground, arms pinned under Pac’s thighs. He's still gripping his sword: takes much more than a little fall for his grasp to loosen, and his sword is dangerously close to Pac's bare side; but the blade of Pac's scythe is nestled securely under Fit's chin, where Pac has dreamed and dreamed of tucking his face and sleeping, protected from the world.

It's easy to see who won: Fit doesn't have enough leverage to move his shoulder, or arm, or wrist.

Pac quivers: his body aches to lean into the sword tip barely grazing his hip, like he wants to fall into it, he needs it, needs it, needs it, needs it.

He's throbbing, he realises, pressed in the divot between Fit's pecs, comforting and warm and tight even under the leather armour.

Goddess, he's fucked up.

Cellbit's corpse is still laying down ten feet from the two of them, stinking up the place.

“Well,” Fit gasps, like breathing is hard, “you won.”

He won.

Victory tastes bitter.

“I can't kill you.” It feels like a defeat to admit, but he drops the scythe.

Fit laughs. “So you were just talkin' a big game, eh?”

“Sorry, I… got all worked up over nothing.” He blinks. He wasn’t supposed to win. “I wasn’t supposed to win. Did you let me win?”

“You insult me,” Fit says, smiling, voice just this side of wheezy. He’s still pinned under Pac, and Pac is not putting any effort in not letting all his weight lie on his chest, perhaps because he likes to hear the wheeze. “I wouldn’t just let you win. Why, just because you’re my… roommate?”

Pac feels a smile tug at his lips, tired.

“You wouldn't?”

“You don't give yourself enough credit, Pac. You're a better fighter than me.”

Pac wants to answer, to say something, anything, mock himself because that's all he knows, but then a great force is lifting him, thighs first, and suddenly the world tilts on his axis: he lands on the soft grass, and Fit is curled between his thighs, beautiful, dangerous, terrible. He can feel the stretch in his hip, trying to accommodate Fit's larger body in his, and that’s some unfortunate wording, is it not?

Fit's sword is nestled against the middle of his chest.

Pac closes his eyes.

Now the world is turning in the right direction again.

“What,” comes Fit's voice, torn between amusement and despair, after too long of a pause, “did you think I would kill you?”

And the truth is, despite himself, despite how deeply, desperately, achingly he wishes it so, the truth is one: his heart knows it would never happen. Never in his life has he felt so safe as in Fit's arms: not in the womb, longingly alone, not in his youth, when not even the other half of his soul by his side could lessen the harsh blows that life threw at them, and not now, as a man, ever chased by solitude and despair as he is. Fit's embrace, alone, his voice, his hands, so delicate on him when he knows them capable of such destruction, he feels safe in.

Fit wouldn't kill him, despite how much he wants it.

His skin itches. His throat itches. His eyes itch.

“Fit,” he says, low, whimpery, like a desperate call to the wind, like a plea for mercy, and he can't bring himself to care about that little ‘-tch’ his mouth tacks on at the end, “can I kiss you?”

Fit’s sword clatters to the ground, and he leans down and presses their lips together: he tastes like black tea, strong, bitter, burned. It’s the same kind Tina planted for them, but it’s obvious that no one in team Green is a master steeper. Pac gasps, and all the same tries to tilt his head up, to lean into the kiss, lets his mouth fall open and his tongue run along the ridges of Fit’s lips, chapped, warm, wet. He moans when Fit's tongue wets his lower lip, teeth-plump, when it touches his own tongue, when it coaxes it close for Fit to suck gently on. He’s not an expert kisser, but he more than makes up for it in enthusiasm. Pac moans again, tries to wiggle under Fit until their chests are flush and he can close his legs around his trim waist, get him close, close, Goddess, so close, he needs Fit to crawl into his chest . They kiss like starved, groaning in each other’s lips every time Pac’s legs hitch around Fit’s hips and pull him close enough that their bodies slot together like puzzle pieces.

“Fuck,” Fit groans, tucking his face in the crook of Pac’s sweaty neck, “fuck, how have I been waiting for this.”

“You have?” Pac hears himself asking, like he’s hearing it for the first time, like Fit hasn’t shown him, again and again, the depths of his affection and devotion, and he hasn’t been blind and deaf to it in the wave of his own despair. “Me too,” he says immediately after, lets his arms tighten around Fit’s shoulders, talks into his ear like he wants no one to hear him but Fit, “so long, so long I’ve wanted you, since the beginning, since the first time I saw you, kiss me again.”

Fit kisses him again, lets his hands roam along the too-thin expanse of his underfed chest, his fingers drum against the delicate imprints of his ribs under warm skin, under the thin cotton of his little black bodysuit, steadfast on his skin despite the tears, the dust, the blood that sticks fabric to muscle. Fit’s hands are hungry, hungry, pressing down on him enough that Pac fears tomorrow’s blooming bruises, and yet he knows he’ll be disappointed if tomorrow he finds none.

He’s been marked plenty, and never for good: forgive him if, for once, he wants the marks of ownership on him to be something beloved.

They kiss and kiss, and Pac sighs in Fit's mouth when he feels thumbs slipping under the hem of his shirt to caress at bare, bare skin and press into the divot between hip and thigh, so sensitive and rarely touched, tilts his hips up into the warm, rough touch.

“Please,” he gasps: he has to, because he feels like he's going to lose all grasp on the English language reasonably soon, and he would like Fit's cock inside him before then. “Please, Fit, please.”

What is he pleading for?

Fit groans against the delicate skin of Pac's throat, slips more fingers under his vest like he needs the skin-to-skin touch, “Don't beg me like this, Pac, you'll make me lose my mind.”

“Good, good. I've lost it already, so let's be crazy together.”

They kiss again, and this time it's Pac's hands pulling Fit's tank top from where it's tucked in his jeans, getting at skin, skin, skin, bare, rough, scarred, warm. He thumbs at his belt, and it takes four hands(three, because Fit’s metal hand is keeping him from tumbling face first into Pac), trembling and sweat-slick, to undo it, clicking of metal and leather, and then undo his pants to push them down his thighs just enough to expose his boxers, dark grey, threadbare, damp with a little pearl of wetness that Pac can't help but swipe his thumb into, enjoy the strangled groan Fit gives, tucked in his shoulder.

Armour starts dropping on the soft grass, clinking of diamond and steel, as they start undressing each other, feverish, reverent, and when the armour goes, it’s time for Pac’s jeans to go, too, and Fit stares at creamy, tan skin slowly revealing itself before his very eyes as Pac undoes them and shoves them off, at the way denim barely catches on the delicate hinges of his prosthetic, the sudden smell of arousal that wafts through the air and makes his nostrils twitch, sensitive. He wants, he wants, just as much as Pac does, and isn’t that a relief?

He’s laying in the grass now, legs bare against the chill, briefs tented and wet with his arousal, and he wraps his knees around Fit’s hips again, just so he can grind against him, let their arousals get acquainted. It feels good , and Fit’s breathy groan when their hips press together, separated by only two thin layers of threadbare cotton, is probably the best music Pac has ever heard, rough and wild, muffled with teeth on his throat. Fit’s hand, warm and rough, closes around his hip, thumbing at the hem of his briefs like he’s shy to pull it off, like they’re bashful young lovers on their first fuck and not… whatever they are, warriors, killers, hunters, monsters. So he tilts his hips up into the tender touch, enough for Fit to get the hint, and reaches down to pull the damn thing down, and now there’s cool air on his cock, less sharp than Fit’s gaze but making him shiver all the same, and warm, warm hands, rough with sword callouses, close around his skin with force enough to bruise; he keens a too-loud noise that has his blood freezing in his veins, has Fit’s too-green eyes darting around the clearing they’re in, settling on the dark trees surrounding them, the red sky above them, the mushy remains of a man staring emptily at the two of them like they might decide to get up and start biting. His cock throbs, scorching hot against Pac’s fluttering folds.

Only when he’s satisfied enough with the stillness of the air does he go back down to mouth at Pac’s throat, panting like a dog. Pac knows that kind of ardour, has felt it himself, many times, for many men, but to feel it aimed at himself is…

Indescribable.

He shifts his legs, tightens the lock of his ankles on Fit’s lower back; the movement presses him down, close, cock grinding into Pac’s cunt like it belongs there, and yet the man seems shy to reach down and tug it inside, through his low, rumbly, desperate moaning.

“Wh–what are you waiting for?” Pac hears himself asking. Tsk, tsk, breathless already like a teenager on his first tryst.

“I–it’s just… Is this really what you want, Pac?” Goddesses above, how infuriating that the man manages to look earnest through the traffic lights he’s got in place of eyes, and how much more infuriating that it looks terribly attractive, with his flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead and haunted expression like he’s terrified of being rejected, and that’s just silly, because Pac is a second away from wrestling a hand between the two of them and tugging Fit’s cock in his cunt himself. “I–I mean, I don’t want you to feel, you know, forced , or anything, or, like, is this just the adrenaline of the fight, I, uh…”

“Did you not hear what I said before?” Pac asks, and Fit looks panicked enough to spur him on and not let the poor man talk his own erection down, “I’ve wanted to have sex with you since, like, day one. When we crashed on the island, after you guys rescued us, I’m, like, pretty sure I went to bed for a week straight thinking about you with your shirt stuck to your chest from the rain. If you don’t fuck me right now I might go insane.”

As if to underline that point, he does actually reach between their warm bodies to tickle a hand around Fit’s cock, warm, thick, tip flushed red and glistening. He flutters his fingers, tight and then loose, and Fit moans a, frankly, whorish noise, high and trembling into Pac’s neck, and his hips follow Pac’s gentle coaxing like well-trained dogs; his cock slips inside like a knife retreating to the warmth of its sheath, and Fit moans again, the temple of his body wracked by a shuddering earthquake that almost sends him careening down.

He stays up, thankfully, holds himself up with both hands caging Pac’s head in, and gives a single, powerful thrust. Pac moans, kisses the discoloured skin of Fit’s fleshy forearm, lets his lips linger over pale lines of old, beloved scarring, and enjoys the way Fit shudders with every butterfly touch.

Fit's thrusting is shuddery, but methodical: little rhythmic jerks of his chin beat the tempo, as if he is counting the seconds between each thrust inside his head to ensure a perfect clockwork, and that is such a goofy thought, in-character as it is, that a chuckle puffs out of Pac's chest, and he curls his arms around his neck to pull him in a kiss, lap along his lips and coax his tongue out. He moans pretty in Pac's mouth when he starts sucking on his tongue; his hips lose their perfect rhythm and instead start pistoning in and out as fast as they can go, uneven and shaking with the effort of a movement never tried before, and now that feels good, the nearly-dry rubbing pistoning into him, so harsh it feels like it's tearing up Pac's insides, yes, yes, yes , more.

But Fit deserves better, better than this, better than harsh sandy earth under them and whipping wind and patchy red sky and dry-fucking under the bug-eyes attention of freshly killed prey.

So he pushes Fit away despite his half-pained whining—Goddess, the dryness was hurting him too, huh?—and spits on his hand, spits again for good measure, lets the thick, foamy fluid coat his glove before he reaches down to smear it on Fit’s cock, let it mix with his own wetness and the pearl of pre shining on his glans, and Fit cries out when he guides him back in, slide made easier by the spit.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Fuck, you—your… you feel good.”

That's cute.

“You feel good too,” Pac tells him, because it's true. “You're so warm and you fill me up so well when you thrust in, I can't wait to be so full of you I'll feel it dripping down my legs all the way back to my base.”

Something jumpstarts in Fit, a croaky gasp punched out of him, and the brutal pace starts up again. It's cute, in a way: Fit is mindless, chasing his own pleasure and gasping and twitching as if already on the brink of an orgasm, like a teenager fucking his first cunt. It's very cute, the way he cries out Pac's name every time he clenches around him, just because he can, just to be a dick.

Pac takes his wrist, the one made of flesh, discoloured and scarred, and brings his hand down between the two of them, guides him gently into tugging gentle circles on his cock. Fit is many things, and among those is a quick study: he takes to the movement as a bird to flying, spits on his hand and touches Pac, drinks in his every moan with trembling ardour until he is gasping wetly, stilling deep as he can go inside, and Pac can feel him twitch and spurt out pleasure, painting him white and taken with a pitiful whine just this side of ashamed.

He doesn't pull out immediately, which is already its own victory: but he stays still, panting heavily with his thumb pressed into Pac's cock, until he whines a strangled, uncomfortable sound, and immediately Fit picks his pace back up like the trooper he is, uncaring of the mess or his softening cock; at least, he tries to. He gives up after half a dozen thrusts, hissing his discomfort, and gives up to swirling his thumb in hypnotic circles, letting his fingers flutter along the jagged edges of Pac's lips to the rhythm of his broken praise, because despite how little Fit’s lasted, Pac is ridiculously close, himself.

“How ca–can I help,” Fit gasps, half-panicked as if fearing Pac will just up and leave, disgusted by his rapid performance, “Tell me how to help, I'll do it.”

Pac is struck by the very alluring image of Fit kneeling between his legs, face soiled with his own cum, nose buried in his bush.

Another time.

After they’ve all made it back to Quesadilla Island, where he'll be able to properly woo Fit on his soft bed in Chume Labs.

Man, he misses his soft bed in Chume Labs.

Instead, he shakes his head, “Just–just keep going, just like this, f–finger me, I'm so close–”

Fit immediately presses his index finger in, deep as it will go, the intrusion almost coquettish after having felt his cock.

“Good, go–good boy,” the finger twitches, his thumb stutters, “n–now curl it in, like you're telling someone to come close.”

Fit follows instructions like he was made for it. It takes very little, gentle coaxing and angling his hips into the stimulation, for Fit to catch the gist, start looking for the spots that make him sob all on his own, uncaring of the sticky mess dripping down his wrist, and when Pac comes, he comes with a shout, back arching and then falling like a poppet with cut strings.

They stay still a while after Fit gingerly slips his fingers out of Pac's cunt, the only movement the heavy fall of their breaths.

Pac is sleepy. Fit's eyes are droopy.

“We should… go back to our bases.” He tries, gravelly and hoarse.

Pac just nods. “Well, you would have to get off of me for that.”

Fit grunts, buries his head back in Pac's neck.

They’ll get up.

They'll get back to Purgatory.

Right now, they just want to rest.

#knight's notebook #qsmp #fitpac #hideduo #fitmc #pactw

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sillygoose067 · 19 days

Text

Over the 7 Seas

Ch.18

Charles Leclerc x Reader

As you make your way to the dance studio, you give Charles a brief tour of the company building. “…And here’s the cafeteria, and here’s the hallway that has a picture of every world-famous artist ever, and…”

He simply follows whichever way your arm tugs his and provides the appropriate reactions for each new thing you point out.

Finally, you reach the studio. As you open the door and make an attempt to step inside, you’re yanked off of Charles’ arm and immediately mobbed. “Aaaaaaah”, you yell as you’re bombarded by a multitude of colors and hands pulling you into the room, embracing you tightly.

Standing up and brushing yourself off, you huff. “Yaaa! 죽을 뻔했어(I almost died)!”

You hear a murmur of mumbled apologies. Then you hear them do their introduction. “하나, 둘(one, two) Hello, we are Stray Kids!”

They must’ve finally noticed a stricken Charles at the door. “Guys, this is my boyfriend Charles”, you tell them proudly.

“‘조기요 호크시 누나, 남자 친구가 있나요?(excuse me ma’am, do you have a boyfriend?)’”, you hear Jisung say teasingly, quoting himself from one of his predebut tracks. You stalk over to him and hit him upside the head. “Aah, sorry, sorry, Y/n!”

“와, 드디어 남자친구가 생겼네요…(wow you finally managed to get a boyfriend…)”, sighed Jeongin and Minho.

You turn to them with a threatening glare. “행동(behave)”

You get introductions done and situate Charles on the sofa on the wall. “Je m'en excuse. Ils sont un peu comme mes frères, du moins à ce stade, et se comportent tous comme des enfants (Sorry about that. They’re kind of like my brothers, at this point at least, and all act like kids). You can sit here while I get their choreo done”

Still recovering from this culture shock, he nods complacently and gets settled.

…

As you guide the boys through some stretches (and do your best to not goof off with them), Charles watches how well you’re able to connect with the idols, and finds more reasons to be entranced by you. You switch fluidly between English and Korean, as do they, so he manages to catch snippets of the conversations. “Have you guys filmed any new content?”

“Oh yeah. We went to Jeju Island, picked some of their famed oranges, had some amazing seafood, played games, you know the usual”.

“Wow, sounds like fun! I saw Hannah has been making some of her own music, I’m so proud of her!”

“Yeah, me too. I would never tell her this, but I do feel sorry that I wasn’t there for her when she needed me the most. So the fact that she’s managed to get this far on her own makes me strangely proud of her. But DO NOT tell her I said that”.

You walk over to the monitor and listen to the completed songs, brainstorming the possibilities of choreo. As you begin to teach the dances to the boys, Charles can’t help but notice your charisma and how lithely your body moves. Dressed in an oversized T-shirt with a loosened neckline, showing your collarbones and a single shoulder, and baggy dance pants, it was safe to say that a lot was left to Charles’ imagination.

He also begins to understand why so many people like this genre of music so much. There are specific parts of the music that he catches onto. “Item, item, I ate them, Pac Man”, “Fingerlicking, yeah I’m cooking up a SuperBowl”, but the one that catches his attention the most is one that dropped and went, “Here, the people call my name, Here, I’m on the Hall of Fame…” Even though he didn’t understand all the lyrics, somehow the song spoke to him. He’d have to ask you to translate the song for him when you got to the hotel.

Your body moved with a certain finesse, something that showed that you were confident in your moves, and you loved doing this. He watched as you compassionately instructed and fixed the posture of the “students”. This must be how you felt when he’d taken you to see his cars.

When all of you decide to take a break, you come over. Panting and literally dripping with sweat, you plop down next to him and grab your water bottle. “Sorry, not my best look right now”, you cringe when you catch him staring. In fact, to him, you’d never looked more ethereal.

#f1 #formula 1 #kpop #smut #fluff #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #jyp stray kids #skz #stray kids

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sterlingarcher23 · 2 months

Text

Happy memories=Season 5: Addendum & Will foreshadowing

I already altered my previous post (link down below) a bit - I overlooked something: Lucas.

Time jump (correction)

Lucas telling Max that he's there, right in front of her, and she's kind of ignoring him is foreshadowing the scene they shot with Sadie and Caleb: Max in coma, "ignoring" Lucas who tells her that he's there. "I don't want a letter. I'm right here."

It's either that or the scene in S4 in which he reads the book. And the sequence includes Season 4.

The "I'm right here" scene in the memory corresponds with Lucas sitting at Max's bedside (but she is looking just like Sleeping Beauty because she's not in cast and Ross saying that she's in a coma - which means in this scene),and her "ignoring" him. It's possible that this is this scene. It's also possible that it refers to S4. - His watch shows Thursday 11 2 (!), so November 2nd and that's 1989.

Next is Max swallowing the red Skittle (You were wearing that yellow Benny's Burgers t-shirt and it was so big it almost swallowed you whole - like a Pac-Man swallowing the red ghost in the scene, red jacket Max enters the Arcade.), then El and Max link and we hit the time barrier...

Note how in the memory scene they cut the original moment before the linking and after the linking - that's a time jump in itself:

Season 3 mall scene = time jump in Back to the Future. (JC Penney - they used the brands without getting money for it, it's not because they want to make commercials but used them for specific reasons like KitKat, Skittles, M&Ms) The linking/vanishing and reappearing part isn't in it.

The original version is cut in three segments (not sure about the exact terminology here, so I better leave that out, in German which differ from English terminology its probably: halbnah, Totale, nah). If you see the original footage as a single sequence, the edited memory version is visually a temporal jump.

Here again the comparison between this scene (without the final shot) and Back to the Future:

So this is the time jump - it's the third element in the memory sequence (and those are completely out of chronological order) and my guess is, that there are like two jumps potentially. - There's also some contradicting Infos about the time jump, like some say "immediate" time jump but other sources say from Episode 1 to 2. It's still possible that there are multiple time jumps and the hand holding scene IS right before waking up.

(Caleb is wearing a jacket in the bts shot and we don't see what he's wearing under it but in the hand shot he's definitely in role.)

The Back to the Future time jump reference in the memory is happening right after the "I'm right here/Lucas at Max's bedside" scene - however these moments are probably much closer than I initially thought.

And these segments of Lucas touching Max, the red Skittle are connected and the BttF time jump sequence may show us the result of this.

My guess is that there's at least one scene, maybe more, before the actual jump, involving Max (that has not been filmed yet - it would need summer weather) and we get to see already a partial resolve of the jump with Lucas holding Max's hand. Still comatose but a coma is only important if and how someone wakes up.

The coma is a "time jump"

"I'm right here" is either Season 4 ending or the scene from S5. Thinking about it, both would make sense. The first one even a bit more if we think of the coma as the actual starting point for the memory sequence to foreshadow everything the follows after.

Falling in coma, swallowing the red Skittle, time jump sequence and the rest is the boys who meet the killer, the ghost trap scene, ElMax foto session, fotos (in media metaphorically) freeze people in time like:

(There are some Whovians out there that say, that some Doctor Who is also in Stranger Things. And those stasis cubes are visualized as paintings. - An endless summer skateboarding sounds very much like a stasis cube or a pocket dimension. )

.. the movie date (storytelling technique called promise gets it's payoff) ElMax hugging...ElMax & Lumax Endgames.

And they could only use existing scenes but those are very deliberately chosen (there's a scene not in this sequence that has it's own rhyme and I only just discovered it but it demands another moment like it, it involves ElMax, certain posters but most importantly: a sea shell lamp).

And it's been foreshadowed how we would react to the time jump that the JC Penney reference alludes to - I didn't make it up, the Duffers made this connection in the show by showing us the exact moment including Doc saying "The temporal displacement occurred at 1:20 am"

Yepp...these two idiots. That's us.

Conclusion?

The coma is a time jump. "I didn't disintegrate anything. The molecular structure of both Einstein and the car are completely intact. I sent him into the future.", Doc Brown.

In the memory scene, except the "coma" segment as a starting point and the Endgame (It's you and me won't be unhappy), the answer to EVERY memory sequence is ElMax, shown as inseparable after linking. That's neither queerbaiting nor is it just a "regular" relationship. This is not even slightly one of these stories.

Nonetheless is gives us some basic elements of the plot.

And it's ElMax making Lumax Endgame possible: High five. 1st place. Winners....whatever you want to call it.

Soo... The sequence foreshadows some basic elements of Season 5 in regards to the character relationships. - And ElMax appears like inseparable in these moments, either linked, very close by, hugging ...

It doesn't get more obvious. They tell it straight into our faces.

And I would say that it's obvious that they make a huge deal out of Max's coma. Just her having powers? That's it? How is this such a huge deal? The Vecna has absorbed her and stuff can easily be debunked too.

Will

And I have Will proving that they do this shit with the window and foreshadowing ...just differently. This is almost not so surprising, is it? That they show us that he has a "crowbar" in his head. - Oh, yes, people.

And while the class scene in Season 2 is about him. It's also about Max, she however has light reflections like "God rays" pointing to her head when the focus changes with Mr Clarke's words on top. Seriously, people. This is a subtle as fireworks in the middle of the towns square.

ElMax Endgame

ElMax will turn out to be a dissociative identity/multiple personality disorder system of two individual minds residing inside the same body. Max's body. They'll be together. Literally.

This way Max is healed by the cure/medicine: El. - This way ElMax and Lumax can happen and it's in line with the themes of the show. And it fits in regards to the inspo for Eleven taken from Elfen Lied - kids having supernatural powers do do some lab science MK Ultra style etc etc, why not Fringe? Because Elfen Lied has a main character that has DID.

"One skull, two tenants"

#max mayfield #elmax #stranger things #el hopper #elmax nation #elmax my beloved #elmax supremacy #elmax is endgame #stranger things analysis #eleven and max #max x eleven #lumax endgame #lumax #will byers #elumax

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