#SHOUTS OUT TO OLD JOE

[youssefguedira]

self rec saturday

tagged by @ongreenergrasses (and @laviejaguardia a little while ago!!!)

rules: post one of your newer works, one you're really proud of, and an older work

for newer i'll go for my current major wip i.e. planet earth is blue (and there's nothing i can do):

“This is Joe, transmitting from Orbiter 3. It’s” – he checks the computer’s clock – “day 11,689 of the experiment. Uh, all medical checks came back normal, plants show no abnormal growth or change, soil levels all fine. Drank about three bottles of water. No technical faults to report.” There’s never much to say during these reports, but they’re the closest thing he gets to talking to someone else. “Earth looks particularly beautiful today. And I’m running out of paper.”

we've got space. we've got mystery. we've got joe going through it. what more could you want. i don't wanna say more because the mystery aspect IS the point but. it's a good time (or at least i'm having fun)

for one i'm really proud of, it's gotta be but i thought i could fly:

“How long was it for you?” he asks, not quite sure he wants to hear the answer. For a long time, Yusuf says nothing. Then, “Two years,” he says quietly. - Five ways in which Yusuf has changed, and one way he hasn't.

this one DOES come with the disclaimer that it's very much set in my legend of zelda au but i love it so so much. top 10 fics i wrote for me specifically. i like the first part in the series well enough but this one particularly is one of my favourites to reread which is saying a lot bc i dont always like rereading things. but i like this one a lot. shout out to carry me home, i'm not afraid for being ANOTHER videogame au with a longfic i work on periodically that i'm emotionally attached to

and for older, its like 2 now so ill put it here. libero, libero (nel corpo e lo spirito):

And so these are the three things he knows, when he cannot be sure of anything else:

…

the water is dark, and cold, and heavy.

this one took me forever to write (and took a lot out of me) and i have such a soft spot for this one even if i am terrified to reread it lmao. i do love parts of this very much

no pressure tagging @laviejaguardia (again!), @non-un-topo and @nicolodigenovas!

[qqueenofhades]

I feel like it's important to point out that in the last few days alone, in the middle of the ongoing flap about How Old He Is, Biden has announced two MAJOR pieces of progressive legislation/priorities for his second term: a) major SCOTUS reform, term limits for SCOTUS justices, a constitutional amendment nullifying the "president god-king" ruling, and b) legislation to cap/stabilize rent costs nationwide and financially punish landlords who raise their tenant's rent by more than a certain percentage (the news I saw had it as no more than 5%) in a year.

It is important to note that aside from these both being necessary and needed (the SCOTUS reform alone, holy shit) Biden's response to challenges to his candidacy is to go MORE left, not LESS. The conventional wisdom for 800 years has always been that Democrats Need To Go More Centrist, a mainstream and longterm Democrat like Biden has absolutely heard it over and over, and we have heard so much about how we need to court Republicans who are tired of Trump by being more conservative. Biden is not doing that. He is making the electoral gamble that the way to win is by going even more left, which would also have implications for his policy agenda in a second term, especially when he was freed of re-election concerns and could just go "fuck it."

Now we, and I cannot emphasize this enough, need to reward him for the move leftward and incentivize him to do it more. When you shout endlessly at politicians to be more left and then just bitch at them for not being even more left even when they move in that direction, you discourage them from doing so and make the hoary old Move To The Center narrative come back yet again. So:

[itslilimethinks]

.

[hubbvrd]

Little Burrow | Joe Burrow

In which little burrow suprises his dad during training

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Mommy! Mommy! I'm ready," y/n's son Mason shouted as he came running into the kitchen.

Y/n lifted her head from the lunch box she was preparing for her three-year-old son and looked over at Mason.

The little blond-haired boy proudly presented his mother with his Bengals jersey, which he was wearing backwards, but looked so proud because he had put it on by himself, so y/n let out a soft "naaw" before lifting her son up and gently tickling his belly, causing him to giggle loudly. 

"You did great, buddy. But we need to get your jersey on right, okay?" Smiling, y/n sat her son down on the countertop and began to put the Burrow jersey, which he wore almost daily, on him the right way around.

"Who dey think gonna beat dem Bengals? Nobody!" , Mason began to chant after wearing the jersey the right way around and snagging a cracker from the lunchbox y/n had just prepared.

"I hear you're ready to cheer on Daddy and the rest of the team at practice already?"  Y/n lifted her son up to put him back on the ground, where he gave her a big grin and then clapped his hands enthusiastically and shouted "yes."

Just like Joe, his son shared an enthusiasm for football, so much so that Mason had been talking about nothing else at times since he could talk, and y/n wouldn't be surprised if their son together eventually followed in Joe's footsteps.

"Football with?" , Mason asked y/n as she stowed the lunchbox in Mason's backpack and then tucked her cell phone and front door key into her purse.

"We don't need that one. There are lots of them at Daddy's trainings camp. I'm sure you'll get to play with one." She tousled Mason's hair, which made him giggle.

"Come on, let's go see Daddy."

She picked her son up and carried him into the car, where she put him in his car seat, buckled him in, and moments later left the garage with the car and headed to the training area with Mason to surprise Joe.

—

"Mommy! Mommy! Hurry! "Mason shouted excitedly when they arrived at the training ground and could hear the shouting of the team from far away.

"We're almost there!" y/n smirked slightly as she grabbed Mason's hand and ran over to the field with her excited son, who kept pulling on his mother's hand to show her to hurry.

From a distance, she recognized the team, which was completely engrossed in practicing a few plays, so that y/n and Mason could sneak up unnoticed, although y/n was sure that Mason would betray them sooner or later.

"Daddy?" , Mason tilted his head questioningly as the two arrived at the edge of the field and y/n spread out a blanket on which she and Mason could sit for the next few minutes, keeping Mason occupied every now and then when he wasn't excitedly watching them practice.

"Daddy's over there," , y/n said as she pulled Mason onto her lap and pointed her fingers over to the field where number nine was located.

Wide-eyed, Mason watched his father begin to practice a few throws, at which point Mason kept applauding and began to giggle softly.

With a smile on her lips, y/n watched her son.

"Hello Mason, hello y/n. Good to see you guys." , the suddenly heard Zac's voice next to her, so she lifted her head and smiled at the head coach.

"Hey, Zac. You alright?" Y/n stood up to greet Zac with a quick hug before Zac crouched down and gently tickled Mason's stomach.

"All great and I see you guys are too, right buddy? Are you rooting for your daddy?"

Mason answered Zac with a giggle and then began clapping his hands.

"He couldn't wait to get back here. He actually wears the jersey almost every day." , y/n said rolling his eyes slightly, which made Zac laugh softly.

"That's great, isn't it? That way we're already working on good young talent. Joe said he should play football soon too?"

"No," y/n said quickly, but had to grin.

"I see you haven't agreed yet," Zac replied with a grin, and then picked up Mason, who began to sing The Bengal Song again.

"Shall we go say hi to your daddy and do some exercises with him?"

Zac got a wild nod in response, so the Bengals' boss headed out onto the field with Mason on his arm.

"Listen up guys! I've got a new arrival here!" he shouted across the field, causing everyone to pause in their movement and look to Zac and Mason.

Immediately, the players' expressions brightened and they all began to greet Mason in confusion, causing him to press himself slightly shyly against Zac.

"Look, there's Daddy," he distracted Mason as they came to a stop just before Joe.

He lowered Mason, who moments later spotted Joe and ran toward him, stumbling slightly.

"Hey, Buddy," Joe, who by now had crouched down and spread his arms, greeted his son, who threw himself into his arms.

"Daddy! Daddy!" , his son shouted excitedly and began to tell him that he was wearing Joe's jersey and was eager to play with him.

With a big grin on his lips, Joe pressed a kiss to his son's forehead before picking him up and carrying him over to Logan, Sam and Tee.

"Hey little superstar," Sam greeted the little one and tousled him through his hair, causing Mason to giggle softly.

"Are you training with us today?" , Logan asked Mason, who started nodding vigorously shortly after, making the three of them laugh.

"Let's go then." With a grin on his lips, Tee grabbed the football and thus the four of them began to play a little football with Mason, cheering loudly for Mason every time he threw or caught the ball.

And from the edge of the field, y/n watched them grinning broadly while she held the cell phone in her hand and filmed them all for some time to have some memory of today.

—

"You really need to come back here with Mason" , Logan all but pleaded as he pulled y/n into a tight hug of greeting, then gave her a pleading look as he let her go again.

"Oh, yeah." , Sam agreed with him.

"Please," , Tee was almost pleading.

"I wouldn't mind either" , Joe agreed with his colleagues, after pressing a kiss to y/n's lips. He held the sleeping Mason in his arms, who had fallen asleep after an exciting half hour playing with the boys.

"Don't worry, boys. I'm sure Mason will be begging me to come back here every day now. And he won't stop until he's big enough to be on the field himself."

A big grin formed on the faces of Logan, Sam and Tee and they were satisfied with the answer, so after a short small talk they disappeared into the cabin and left the little family alone.

"That was really a lot of fun. I hope to do this a lot with Mason," Joe enthused. Joe enthused, unaware that y/n had prepared something for Joe and Mason at home, which of course had to do with football.

And who knew if Joe himself would be sitting in the stadium in a few years to watch his own son play and cheer him on.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Coach Burrow

Pairing: Dad!Joe Burrow x Nurse!WifeReader

Description: Joe gets offered his favorite job yet!

Warnings: Fluffy, but suggestive towards the end ;)

Word Count: 2.4k

Main Masterlist

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ °

Life after the NFL wasn’t that much different for Joe Burrow. The 4x SuperBowl MVP was practically handed an elite coaching position the second he announced his retirement. So yea, not much is different from when he started all those years ago.

“MOM, where’s dad? We need him ASAP! MOM!” Your 6th grade son, Leo shouted running into the house.

Ok some things are different.

“HEY NO RUNNING IN THE HOUSE! Take your shoes off please.” Rolling your eyes at the boy and his friend as they removed their muddy cleats then continued their rampage. You’d spent the entire afternoon cleaning the house and doing the laundry so when you left for your 13 hour shift tonight you wouldn’t have to worry about your kids not having anything to wear or your husband having to focus on anything but work and your 4 kids. So you were not letting some 11 year olds mess it up.

 That's when you realized it was only 4:30, “hey!”

The two middle schoolers stop just before entering the backyard and turn to face you in the kitchen. 

“Aren‘t you two supposed to be at practice? Why’d you take the bus?” You ask.

“Our coach was fired!” Chris, Leo’s partner in crime exclaims with a smile.

“Okay, that doesn’t answer the running in my house or the smile on your faces.” Your forehead creases looking at the overly giddy kids.

“We want dad to take his place.” Well that makes sense. 

“Ok what makes you think he has time to coach both your team and Ohio State’s?” Joe’s job is flexible, but not that flexible.

“Easy, he goes to work from 9 to 4 and comes home at the same time practice is. So if he was our coach he could change our practice time from 4:30 to 5. BOOM he has time.” They say will full confidence in their plan.

If only he’d put that much effort into his math homework. But you give them credit for putting it together in such a short notice.

You chuckle and wave them off to pitch their idea to your husband of 15 years.

The boys find your husband outside “playing” around with his new grill. 

“Dad!” The man turns around confused at his youngest son’s voice.

“Leo, what are you doing home? Chris does your mom know you’re not at practice?” He pulls the lid down on the grill and gives his best ‘dad glare.’

“We came to get you! We need a new coach! And we want it to be you.” They plead.

Joe smirks and crosses his built arms. “Oh yea? Give me one good reason why I should be your coach?”

The boys look at each other a bit panicked, so they discuss it in a little huddle that makes Joe smile. 

When they break, Joe puts back on his serious facade. 

“Ok dad here’s our offer, if you agree to be our coach, I’ll get all A’s this year.” 

The dad’s brows raise in a surprised and impressed way.  

Truth is, Joe knew all about their coach’s departure. Over a week ago, the school sent an email to him personally asking if he could fill the position temporarily or even permanently. He said he’d have to check with his family before making any decisions. 

Yesterday they decided to inform him that a number of other dads/ supporters had already applied so there’d be a formal try out today at 5. 

The boys walked into the house at 4:30 and all he’d been waiting for was his son’s approval.

“You know what bud, I’ll gladly take you up on that offer.” He says shaking his mini-me’s hand. The shake quickly turns into him being ‘dragged’ into the house.

“We gotta go! You need to be there right now.” Joe just shakes his head and grabs his keys.

“I see you didn’t take much convincing.” You give him a knowing look as he walks around the kitchen counter to where you’re seated.

He chuckles, “I may have had some insider knowledge of the situation. But here’s the kicker, he agreed to make all A’s if I tried out.” Your husband smiles widely knowing how hard you’ve been trying to get the 11 year old to take his schooling seriously.

You scrunch your face as he pecks both cheeks before placing a much deeper kiss to your lips that you can’t help but reciprocate. 

“Mom… dad that’s gross, we need to go it’s 4:45!” Leo whines causing you to separate from his father.

“Yea go kick butt Shiesty!” You wink as he’s pulled out of the house laughing.

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

When the boys get to the field they are surprised by the sight of your 14 year old twins, Malia and Miles, standing by the fence.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite firstborns, what are you doing here?” Joe asked giving them side hugs, the only acts of affection they’ve allowed him to show outside the house.

“I wanted to get burgers, but was dragged here by her.” Miles dead tones.

Malia rolls her eyes. “I came to fill out your application for coach so you’re welcome, please come up with an adequate ‘daughter’s appreciation day’ present to thank me.” She smiles, Joe snorts at teenager.

“Are you sure you’re my daughter because that was all your mother? Thank you for helping out Lia and Miles…” The young boy shrugs. “Exactly. You guys plan on staying until we’re done or do I need to call mom?”

“We’ll stay, I wanna see the looks on the other dads’ faces when they see you.” Miles replies rubbing his hands together.

“I guess I’m staying too.” Malia shrugs.

“Ok then.” 

The tryouts had barely already started by the time Joe finally got to the field and just as Miles anticipated, the reactions were priceless.

“Mr. Evans, he’s here!” Leo yells running onto the field. His wild presence causes everyone look in his direction. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“The kid’s dad is Joe Burrow?!”

“I don’t know if I should be honored or scared.”

“We should all just leave now, he has 4 rings.”

Leo’s teacher, Mr. Evans shakes the former quarterback’s hand and welcomes him onto the field. 

“Mr. Burrow, it’s good to see you again.”

“Please call me Joe, it’s nice to be able to come out.” He says.

“Of course Joe, you’re right on time too. Would you like to introduce yourself to everyone?”

Joe nodded, “yea of course.” Then turned towards his competitors. “Hey guys I’m Joe, Leo’s dad. I guess I kind of played for a bit, but that’s all behind me now.” He chuckles.

“If played for a bit means leading the best team in LSU history to an undefeated championship then going from ‘the underdog’ of the NFL to a future hall of famer with 4 SuperBowl rings? Than the rest of us haven’t even heard of the game.” Will, Chris’ dad scoffed. Joe patted his long time friend on the back then joined him in line.

“Ok so first we’re going to test your football knowledge then see how well you coach other kids, not your own.” Evans claps his hands and they get to work.

By the end of the first round, half of the applicants have been dismissed and unsurprisingly Joe leads the pack going into the second round. 

“You know this isn’t fair right?” Will says in between rounds.

Joe sighs, “you do realize Leo and Chris practically tracked mud through the house just to get me here right?” Then smirks as the other guy rolls his eyes.

“Hey what if we made it fair?” 

Will looks at him intrigued, “I’m listening.”

“Split the job, we already know it’s going to come down to us. So what do you say, partners?” Joe suggests.

“Damn Burrow,” Will instantly agrees. “I don’t know how you stay so humble.” He laughs.

Joe just points to his fan club on the bleachers. “Chris is your oldest, so you don’t even know the degree of humility teenagers will teach you but my wife helps also helps with that.” 

When the men line back up for the rest of try outs, all of the other guys had already left.

Then Mr. Evans walks up to them. “So, I think it’s pretty clear who’s going to get the position.”

“Actually, we’ve decided to split it.” Will leads, the teacher looks to Joe confused.

“Yup, it would actually work out better if both of us share responsibility. There’s a lot of benefits to having two coaches, plus we’re doing it for free.” 

Mr. Evans couldn’t argue against the offer so he just shook their hands.

“Alright Coach Burrow and Coach Williams. Welcome to the Wildcats.”

❀。• *₊ meanwhile at the house °。 ❀°。

“Mommy, I need help...” 

You had just finished putting on your scrubs before your 6 year old started crying bloody murder. “What is it my love?” 

Walking into her My Little Pony room you scanned every crevice for threats, but only landed on the young girl sitting on her floor with a notebook.

“I don’t know how to do this.” 

You melted at the cute pout on her face as she pointed to her math book. “Jazzy, babygirl. Are the fractions giving you a hard time?” She nodded her head, you checked your watch (5:15) and decided to join her on the floor.

“Ok I have some spare time to help you on a few, but when daddy gets home I have to go work okay pretty girl?” She happily nodded and scooched herself into your lap. 

For the next 20 minutes you simply watched and fiddled with your daughter’s dark curls as she studied her math. It became very clear within seconds that she just wanted to be with her mother as she didn’t ask any questions about the material. 

Being a charge nurse meant your hours were more unpredictable, especially at your hospital. Most nurses worked 12 hour shifts but you were currently understaffed so you took it upon yourself to be a leader and help your team. You usually worked 3 overnight shifts a week, so you could be there when the kids get home from school. Even though you were home more often than not, there are times when your babies need you, so if one of them wanted more time with you there was no way you were going to reject them of that opportunity.

While you and your youngest were cuddled up on the ground in your own little world, Joe and his fan club arrived right on time for dinner. 

“I’m starving, why couldn’t we stop for burgers?” Miles groaned throwing his backpack onto the couch.

Joe picked up the bag and put it back in his son’s hands. “Because even though she didn’t have to, your mother cooked before her shift. So you’re going to take your stuff upstairs and get washed up for dinner.” He gave him a pointed look and dismissed the teenager.

“Wow, I can’t wait to deal with that.” Joe shook his head and led his friend to the kitchen.

“You have no idea. I love my kids, but the older they get the more of me I see in them. It would cool when all he wanted to do was throw the football around, but now the stubbornness gene is really coming to bite me in the ass.” He snorted while warming up their dinner.

“How’s he doing with that, has he made varsity yet?” Will asks as the kids make their way downstairs.

“He’s good for a sophomore but not there yet. If he put more of his time into practice instead of chasing cheerleaders he could be better.” He responds just as the boy rounds the corner.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game dad. I got Becky Jackson’s number in third period, nothing’s stopping me now.” He smiles taking his place at the table.

“What happened to Marissa? I thought she was nice.” Joe chuckles as his wife joins the crew. 

“You know how he is babe.” You give him a quick kiss wrapping your arms around him.

“Yea mom, he’s for the streets.” 

“I am not for the streets! At least I have a date.”

You shake your head and slowly make your rounds. You quickly greet Will, grab your work and dinner bags, kiss the kids and walk with Joe to the front door. 

“You’re really going to leave me in this chaos.” He sighs his hands still holding yours.

“I heard my teacher was for the streets.”

“What’s for the streets?”

You smirk against his chest, “oh I think you got this Shiesty, this is nothing compared to your O Line in those early years.”

His hands quickly drop your hands and find your waist. “Ok alright I see how you want this to go.” His voice low against your ear.

“What, I’m simply saying your risks for injury are dramatically lower.” Your arms go around his neck as he backs you into the corner out of your children’s vision, then a hand on your waist moves to grip the meat of your ass. You bite your lip as a low moan muffles against his chest.

“You think you’re funny. If it was just us right now, I’d show your ass what being funny gets you. But when you get back, you’re all mine mama.” He groans nipping your ear then pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. You moan into his soft yet bruising lips, pulling him in further. 

“Oh god, Jazmine close your eyes.” 

You both sigh as the giggles from your permanent cockblockers acknowledge their existence to you. 

“I’m sending them to my parents tomorrow.” 

“Do that and we might end up adding to the population.” You chuckle pulling away from your husband, who raises his brows at your comment. 

“Don’t tempt me, you know exactly how I like you.” He playfully slaps your behind. “Kids, say goodnight to mom!”

You shake your head at him while being engulfed in hugs. “I love you, I’ll see you when you get home from school.”

“Bye momma..” The chorus sings.

They return to the table and you turn back to a smirking Joe. “See you tomorrow beautiful.” You blush hugging him once more before opening the door.

“Goodnight Coach Burrow, can’t wait practice with you tomorrow.” You wink as his eyes cerulean eyes darken then shut the door.

“Fuck, who said 5 kids was too many.”

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

A/N: Looks like a bitch came back to life! My trip was nice but not writing for so long killed me. Can’t wait to see how much gets posted in the next week

Xoxo Babe

Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and treasured ♡

[isakvaltersnake]

things from the 2001 television programme band of brothers that haunt me to this day:

- we’re paratroopers lieutenant, we’re supposed to be surrounded. not to be your 60 year old military obsessed uncle about it but that line goes hard

- nix’s little giggle he does sometimes

- I’ll never forgive them for leaving gene’s medic training out of their training montage. in fact you know what? go back in time, film a parallel sequel of the other 9 eps from gene’s pov

- popeye’s “they called you guys too?” and the way his accent specifically scratches my brain

- they gave me moose heyliger and his massachusetts accent for like 20 minutes then the narrative snatched him away from me and i still miss him

- the way meehan looks at winters after he tells him to close the flap, in fact let’s talk about how every single one of winters’ commanders are obsessed with him in one way or another he truly is the it girl

- the chaos and fear that precedes gene and the calm and comfort that follows him

- I know everyone thinks “we’ll go to chicago, I’ll take you there” is the insane line but the one that actually makes me lose sleep is “what, and give up all this?” THAT MAN SAID I WOULD RATHER LIVE THROUGH THE HORRORS OF WAR THAN HAVE LIVED MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU

- alley is So Beautiful and I don’t think we collectively talk about it enough

- babe being some rando replacement in episode three and whilst his other replacement friends are being absolutely roasted he is immediately adopted by bill and then gets gene fucking roe of all people to connect to him?? he’s too powerful I need to study him

- speirs being this ghoulish terrifying boogeyman until lip is anywhere near him then he’s suddenly dimples and kicking his feet and giggling

- speaking of lip and speirs their little sarcastic in jokes, lip finishing speirs’ sentences fml it’s giving married

- you been working out? IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?? LIEB YOU SLUT?? THEN YOURE GONNA LAY IN HIS BED WAITING FOR HIM??? insane behaviour

- the unexplored but high potential friendships and the way I wanted like 16 more episodes for shifty and lip, nix and luz, nix and web, sisk and perconte, winters and gene, grant and tab, lieb and alley, speirs and harry, etc

- the more haggard and bitchy nix gets the hotter he gets. he also must be studied.

- “you should pack up those ears and go home” ok sobel kinda ate with that one ngl

- speaking of sobel the little confused/bewildered/piss-pants faces he makes david schwimmer the actor you are

- the silly little wide stance pennywise ass run hall does before he gets murked RIP king

- klepto speirs ilysm

- joe toye and his brass knuckles are v sexy

- sink letting nix give winters his oak leaves was very shipper girl of him

- lip harry nix speirs winters in the eagle’s nest dream blunt rotation

- the unsustainable amount of cunt served by nix, frank, babe, and luz at all times is truly a marvel

- tab really checked lip’s dick and balls mid battle and honestly that’s friendship

- bit parts for simon pegg, tom hardy, andrew scott, james mcavoy, michael fassbender, jimmy fallon ?? bob casting director you will always be famous

- peacock is so fine if he was even a little good at his job I’d be obsessed with him (special shout out to the scene of him getting sent home on furlough)

- I could list out every one of their meaningful little moments together but really it’s babe and gene just tethering and grounding each other and how they seem to gravitate to each other out of blind instinct? that’s some Brontë whatever our souls are made of bullshit I’m afraid

- ok I know I said I wasn’t talking about little meaningful moments but gene staring across the convent at where babe is sitting, lost in the peace

-bull in replacements getting imprinted on by a bunch of baby ducks and being SO PLEASED ABOUT IT he’s not the stepfather, he’s the father that stepped up

- speaking of, the underutilization of bull in the back half is such an out of character bad call

- you are officers, you are grown ups, you oughta know. HE’S RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT AND THAT’S ON GENE BEING THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO TELL OFF WINTERS

- I know nix and winters are married and whatever but the real married couple behaviour is luz constantly pissing off joe and joe immediately letting it go

- lip and speirs and their mutual competency kink

- I’M REAL SORRY FRANK skinny ilysm

[jburrgf]

DAYTONA

“When the smoke in the air rolls like a wave it reminds me of that ocean view, and I swear that I won’t, but when it gets cold I think of Daytona and I think about you.”

pairing: hs reader/fan reader! x ahs joe!/bengals joe!

summary: summer love, high school love, one night stand, reuning after a long time, fan x famous player.

description: you went to bengals game at miami with your father, and find out on the same night that you’re staying at the same hotel as joe burrow: your one night stand crush from when you were 17.

The day of the game was something out of a dream for my dad. It wasn’t just any game—it was the Bengals against the Dolphins, and Joe Burrow was leading Cincinnati’s offense.

 My dad had been a die-hard Bengals fan for as long as I could remember. We’d spent countless Sundays in front of the TV, analyzing every play, cheering, and sometimes throwing pillows at the screen when the game didn’t go our way.

Today, though, the energy was different. The Hard Rock Stadium buzzed with excitement as the teams took the field. We’d arrived early, walking into the stadium with our jerseys on, my dad proudly wearing his Burrow jersey. I’d gone for something a little more neutral—after all, I didn’t have the same emotional investment in the Bengals, but I loved being here with him.

The first quarter passed in a blur. My dad was on the edge of his seat, muttering under his breath every time the Dolphins defense pressed Joe. "Come on, Joe, you’ve got this," he grumbled, his eyes glued to the field. I always thought that was funny. My dad is a born and raised 70’s type of guy from Miami, and still, he always cheered for the Bengals. My mom, born and raised in Tennessee, got the same taste as my father when they married almost thirty years ago. 

Joe looked calm, focused, his movements deliberate as he assessed the defense before the snap.

I chalked it up to the overwhelming atmosphere of the stadium—the lights, the noise, the fans. Still, I found myself watching Joe closely, like there was something more to it.

When the Bengals scored their first touchdown, the crowd erupted, and my dad leaped to his feet, cheering at the top of his lungs. "That’s my guy!" he shouted, clapping and throwing his arm around me. I laughed, more at his enthusiasm than anything, and joined in the celebration.

By the time the game ended, the Bengals had secured a hard-fought victory, and my dad was beaming. As we made our way out of the stadium, he was already talking about the next game he wanted to attend, but all I could think about was the odd sense of déjà vu that had been nagging at me.

Back at the hotel, my dad was ready to crash for the night, the excitement of the game having worn him out. "You’re not tired?" he asked as I lingered in the doorway.

"Not really. I might head down to the cafeteria, see if I can grab something to eat," I said, my stomach growling at the thought of a late-night snack.

He nodded, already halfway to sleep. "Alright, don’t stay up too late.” I laughed, as I’m still 10 years old.

I slipped out of the room and made my way down the quiet hallway, the cool, sterile air of the hotel soothing after the heat and noise of the stadium. The lobby was nearly empty, the faint hum of the late hour settling over the place. I made my way to the small cafeteria, hoping it was still open this late.

To my relief, the lights were on, and I stepped inside, scanning the shelves for something to eat. I grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water, goind to check out and pay right after, and I turned around to find a place to sit.

And that’s when I saw him.

At first, I didn’t recognize him. He was sitting alone in the corner, his head bent over a cup of coffee. But then, as if sensing my gaze, he looked up. His eyes met mine, and suddenly, it hit me like a wave crashing on the shore.

Joe Burrow.

The realization came slowly, like a puzzle falling into place. I blinked, my mind racing to catch up. Could it really be him? The same guy I’d watched out on the field today? The same guy that my dad loves like his own son?

He stood up, and the casual way he moved, the familiar way he looked at me, made my heart skip a beat. There was no mistaking it now.

"You Still wear that, Y/N?" His voice was soft, as if he wasn’t entirely sure it was me. Why is he calling my name?

I stared at him, stunned. "Joe?" My voice came out in a whisper, like I was afraid saying his name out loud might break the spell. “Wear what?” I shook my head, still trying to make sense of it all. Why is he talking to me like that? He knows me from where? My words felt clumsy, my thoughts still spinning. I hadn’t even realized he’d know who I was. I mean, why would he?

I hesitated for a moment, looking at my clothes. It was the Athens High School sweatshirt that a guy that I met in Daytona gave me once. And then, realization hitted me. Ohio Joe, the shy handsome man that I had the most perfect night ever when I was seventeen years. Joe, Joey, blond hair, blue eyes, shy smile. The same Joe. I crossed the small space between us, still reeling from the shock of seeing him here, of all places, after all these years.

Joe gestured to the seat across from him. "Do you want to sit?"

As we sat there, I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was the same, but different. Older, obviously. More confident. There was something about him now that I hadn’t noticed back then—a calmness, a self-assurance that came with time and experience. But he still had that same smile, the one that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. I just couldn't believe it. Was Ohio Joe an American football player? I watched his game tonight!

I wasn’t sure where to begin, so I settled on the most obvious question. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckled softly, glancing around the empty cafeteria. "Team’s staying at the hotel. You?"

"My dad and I came down for the game. He’s a big Bengals fan."

Joe’s eyes lit up with recognition, and he nodded. "That’s awesome. Did he enjoy the game?"

I smiled. "He loved it. He’s probably already planning the next one."

We fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the air between us thick with unspoken memories. I wasn’t sure if he was thinking about it too—Daytona Beach, the night we met—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was.

And then, as if reading my mind, Joe leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching mine. "Do you remember that night? Daytona Beach?"

My breath caught in my throat. Of course, I remembered. How could I forget? But hearing him say it out loud, acknowledging that night all these years later, felt surreal.

"I do," I said softly, my heart pounding in my chest. "It feels like forever ago."

Daytona Beach, Florida, 10th of May 2014.

It was our high school graduation trip. Daytona was only a couple hours away from where I lived, but it felt like a different world. We had spent all year planning it, dreaming about it—one last hurrah before we all went off in different directions, scattered to the wind. College, jobs, wherever life would take us. 

The first few days had been a blur of beaches, sunburns, and bad decisions, but on the last night, something changed. 

We found ourselves at a crowded beachside bar (that happened to be an alcohol free bar), packed with people our age—locals, tourists, whoever happened to be passing through. That’s where I first saw him. Joe was leaning against the bar, his hair tousled from the salty air, a drink in his hand, looking out over the crowd like he didn’t quite belong there. He was quiet, observant, the kind of guy who didn’t need to be in the center of attention to command it.

He was just another face in a sea of unfamiliar ones. But there was something about him that drew me in, something I couldn’t explain. Before I knew it, I was walking over to him.

"You look like you’re not from around here," I said, my voice raised over the thumping music.

He turned, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I’m not."

"Where’re you from?" I asked, leaning against the bar next to him.

"Ohio. Here for a football convention with my team," he replied, his eyes flicking back to the crowd for a moment before settling on me again. "You?"

"Daytona. I’m local. Well, sort of. Here for graduation week."

He nodded, like he understood what that meant, even though we were from completely different worlds. We talked for a while—about the convention, the beaches, what came next for both of us. Joe told me he was headed to college in a few months to play football. I told him I wasn’t sure what I was going to do yet, but I had a few options. 

There was something easy about talking to him. It wasn’t forced or awkward, like it sometimes was with guys I didn’t know well. Joe had this quiet confidence, like he didn’t need to impress anyone. He was just… himself.

As the night went on, we wandered away from the bar, down toward the beach. The sand was still warm from the day’s heat, and the moonlight glittered off the water as we walked, the waves crashing softly in the distance. 

I don’t know how long we walked before we stopped, standing at the edge of the water, our feet sinking into the wet sand. 

"You ever feel like you’re at the edge of something, but you’re not sure what it is?" I asked, staring out at the horizon.

Joe glanced at me, his eyes thoughtful. "Yeah. All the time."

We were both about to start new chapters of our lives, and the uncertainty of it all hung between us like a cloud. It felt like everything was about to change, and we didn’t know what that would look like.

"Do you ever get scared of what comes next?" I asked, my voice softer now.

Joe shrugged, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his expression. "Sometimes. But I figure you just take it as it comes, you know?"

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I knew. I was scared—of college, of leaving home, of everything that came with growing up. But standing there with Joe, it didn’t seem so terrifying. 

“I can’t see my life away from here” I said again, nervously. “I feel like my anchor is here, and that my boat will never sail.”

“Honestly, if I lived in a place like that, I wouldn’t want to leave either.” He responded with a smile. “I mean, I understand you. It's different when you feel lost.”

I looked at the boy, still not understanding. What did he knew about being lost?

“I hear from everyone that I’m not good enough. From everyone you can imagine.” He completes his own thought. “If you’re not your number one follower, no one else will be.”

I nodded, moving closer to Joe, sitting on the sand. The ocean waves were breaking in front of me, the sea was rough in Daytona today. The magnificent sunset was setting right in front of us.

I got up and took a photo of the sun with my cell phone. I let out a smile, and felt the warmth of Joey's body behind me. “Now let me take your pic.”

Before I could even challenge him, the blonde already had his cell phone in his face. I smiled at the small rear camera, adjusting myself for a pose.

“you looked beautiful” He commented, with a shy smile

“My turn to take your picture.”

I practically pushed Joey into the sea, positioning him. Joe was the most handsome guy I've ever seen in my entire life. And when he laughed at the camera, I was more sure that yes, he was beautiful. Lostly beautiful, intellectually beautiful, my kind of beautiful.

"Don't forget to remind me to give you my number." He began to say, putting his cell phone in his pocket. "I wanna all these photos."

I nodded, starting to walk along the beach sand. We were silent for countless minutes, but this wasn't a nightmare. Joe and I were quiet, but our words didn't need to be spoken out loud.

We walked together down the beach, our footsteps quiet in the soft sand. The night was peaceful, the sound of the waves filling the space between us, but I could tell Joe was nervous. Every now and then, he glanced over at me, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.

"So, Ohio, huh?" I broke the silence, nudging him playfully with my shoulder. "What’s it like up there?"

He smiled, looking down at his feet as he walked. "Cold, mostly. It’s not like this."

I laughed softly. "I bet. Daytona’s kind of… the opposite."

Joe chuckled too, but it was quiet, like he was still getting used to talking to me. "Yeah. I guess you’re used to this, though. The beach and all."

"Pretty much," I said, my eyes drifting out toward the water. "But I don’t know… it’s different tonight. Doesn’t feel like home. It feels like something else."

Joe didn’t say anything for a moment, and I thought maybe I’d said something weird. But then he spoke, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "I get that. It’s kinda like… like we’re in a bubble, you know? Like this is a different world for just one night."

I nodded, surprised by how perfectly he’d put it. "Exactly."

He glanced over at me again, his eyes flicking down to the sand before meeting mine. "So, uh… what comes next for you? After this?"

I shrugged. "College, I guess. I’m still figuring it out."

"You nervous about it?" he asked, his tone gentle, like he genuinely wanted to know.

"A little," I admitted. "I mean, it’s a big change, you know? Everything’s about to be different."

Joe nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yeah. It’s scary."

I glanced at him, surprised by his honesty. Most guys would’ve tried to brush it off, act like they had it all together. But not Joe. He was quiet, but he wasn’t afraid to admit when something scared him. I liked that about him.

"You’re going to college to play football, right?" I asked, remembering what he’d told me earlier.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly a little shy about it. "I mean, I hope so. I’ve got a spot, but, you know… you never really know until you’re there."

"You’re gonna be great," I said without even thinking. "I can tell."

He glanced at me, surprised. "You think so?"

"Definitely," I said, smiling at him. "You’ve got that look about you. Like you’re going to do big things."

Joe blushed, looking down at the sand again. "Thanks. That means a lot."

We walked in silence for a little while after that, the weight of the conversation hanging between us. There was something about Joe that made me feel like I could say anything, like he wouldn’t judge me for it. He was quiet, sure, but he was listening. Really listening.

Somehow, we ended up sitting in the sand, the conversation flowing as easily as the waves. We talked about everything and nothing, the kind of deep, late-night conversation that only happens when you know you’ll never see the other person again. There was something liberating about that—knowing that whatever we said, whatever happened, wouldn’t follow us past this night.

It was almost seven when we returned to the bar. Now completely quiet, Joe used all his awkward teenage charm to sneak into the bar’s kitchen. Taking advantage of the moment, I followed him inside.

"I’ve been sneaking into the bar’s kitchen for about three nights now," he explained to me, opening one of the freezers and grabbing a huge tub of ice cream. Joe handed me one of the clean spoons sitting on the counter.

We sat down next to each other on the floor, in front of the freezer.

“Tell me getting to know Daytona has been worth it, please,” I asked, taking a spoon full of ice cream.

“I haven’t seen the whole city yet. But you’re definitely the best tourist spot,” he said with a shy smile, hoping his line had the effect he wanted. “I’m glad I met you,” Joe said sincerely. “I usually get really nervous around beautiful girls.”

“Looking this handsome? Impossible!” I replied.

“Hey, I’m serious. I hardly ever feel comfortable around people my age.”

His hand found mine at that moment. I smiled, looking into his eyes. Joe leaned in close and kissed me. The kiss happened so naturally, I barely realized it was happening until it was too late. One moment, we were sitting side by side, our shoulders brushing against each other. The next, Joe was leaning in, his lips soft against mine, tasting faintly of salt, chocolate ice cream, and whatever drink he’d been sipping on earlier.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The sounds of the waves, the distant music from the bar, everything faded away until it was just the two of us, lost in each other.

Joe's hand found my neck, pulling me closer. One of my hands rested on his leg for support, while our tongues were intertwined—in my mouth, in his, everywhere.

We pulled back when I ran out of breath. Red-faced, hair messy, and completely dazed by what had just happened, I broke away from the kiss with the biggest smile on my face. Joe wasn’t much different from me. Sweaty, his short hair tousled, and grinning widely.

“You taste like tutti-frutti candy,” he remarked. I laughed, giving him a playful slap. “It’s true! I swear!”

Silence settled over us after that. Joe and I sat holding hands, savoring the last bites of ice cream that rested on the bowl on my lap.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he told me, the smile fading from his face. “I think I’ll miss you.”

“You barely know me, Joe,” I said, with a slight pause between his words and mine. Joe pressed his lips together and shrugged.

“I don’t care. I’ll miss you anyway.”

The lights in the bar began to turn off, and that’s when we realized we probably had to head back to the hotel now. We got up from the floor, put away what we’d used, and washed our hands. We left together through the back door of the bar.

“One more thing, before I forget…”

I couldn’t respond, because before I knew it, I was pressed against the back wall of the bar. The alley was dark, damp, and smelled of the sea. But none of that mattered anymore, because I felt Joe’s hands on my waist, pinning me against the wall, all six-foot-three and almost 200 pounds of him right against me, and I had never been so happy.

My fingers threaded through his hair, feeling it prickle my skin in a good way. I smiled, feeling breathless again, but unlike last time, when I pulled away, I leaned back in a few moments later.

I don’t exactly remember when we started walking again, but I know Joe’s hand was in the back pocket of my shorts. I was wearing his gray sweatshirt with “Athens High School” written in dark green.

The walk to my hotel, a cluster of stilted beach houses, wasn’t long. It was a bit farther down the same street. When I reached the little staircase leading to my place, my friends were all sitting on the porch, drinking and chatting.

“Look who’s coming back!” Tracey said.

I flipped her off, then turned to Joey. He was smiling, watching me, and when I looked at him, I blushed completely. How could I like someone this much in such a short time?

“This is for you,” he said, handing me a piece of paper. I looked down, and “Joey B” was written in big letters. It was his phone number.

“Where’s your pen?” I asked, and he pulled out the pen he’d taken from the bar, from his pocket. “Sign my jacket.”

I said, turning my back to him. I felt Joe hesitate a bit before actually doing what I’d asked. His signature was now at my waist level. “It’s because I know you’re going to be famous someday. Then I can say I was your first fan who got an autograph.”

He let out a silly smile, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I will too,” I replied.

The blond leaned closer, left a kiss on my lips along with a smile. He smelled incredible, and my whole body felt numb, and I’d only known this boy for a few hours. How could this be happening?

“See you soon, Ohio Boy.”

“See you in my dreams, Daytona Girl.”

I went up the stairs after saying goodbye to Joe, without looking back. When I got to my friends, he was already gone. I sighed, feeling like a part of me had just walked away too.

Flashback Off.

Back in the present, I sat across from Joe in the quiet hotel cafeteria, the memory of that night hanging between us. He was watching me closely, waiting for me to say something, to acknowledge what we both knew.

"I remember," I said finally, my voice barely more than a whisper. "That night… Daytona Beach. I didn’t recognize you at first."

Joe smiled, but it was softer this time, almost wistful. "I figured you didn’t. It’s been a while."

I nodded, my heart pounding. "Yeah. It has."

We sat in silence for a moment, both of us lost in the memory of that night. It had been just one night—one perfect, fleeting moment in time. But somehow, it felt like more than that. Like it had always been more, even if we hadn’t realized it at the time.

"Why didn’t we keep in touch?" He asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

I looked down to my hands, a shadow passing over my face. "I don’t know. Maybe we thought it was easier that way. One night, no expectations, no strings. I lost your number some weeks after, too. Always scared of finding you again."

He looked down at his hands, his jaw tightening slightly. "I thought about it. A lot, actually. But I didn’t know if… I didn’t want to complicate things."

"Complicate things?" I echoed, frowning.

Joe’s eyes met mine, and I could see the vulnerability in them—the same vulnerability I’d seen that night on the beach. "You were starting a whole new life. I was starting mine. It felt like… maybe it was better to leave it as just that one night. Something simple. Something good."

His words made sense in a way, but they also left me feeling hollow. "Yeah," I said, though my voice was quieter now. "Maybe."

We sat there for a moment, the memory of that night hanging between us. There was no denying the connection we’d had back then, and now, sitting across from him, I felt it again. Stronger, more complicated, but still there.

"Let me give you my number this time." Joe says, and I let it go a smile on my face. Ït is true"

"Do you trust me with your number?" I asked him.

"If you didn't sell my autograph until today, yes, I trust you with my number." He said, alittle smile coming from his mouth.

I smiled at him and handed my phone to him. Joe got his phone number over there, and when he was ready again, I got my phone back. 

“I think it’s better If I get going.” I was the first one to get up from the table. Joe followed me. “I will text you when I wake up tomorrow.”

“Or you can do it today.” He said, simple.

“I'm gonna text you when I wake up tomorrow promise you.” I said. “Hope to see you somewhere else, Joey.”

I hadn’t expected to see him again. After all, it was just one night. He was from Ohio, I was from Daytona, and our lives were about to go in completely different directions, again. I walked down to my room, thinking about what just happened. It's true when people say that you know when you meet the love of your life, cause I felt that way.

I gave a look down to my sweatshirt, seeing the autograph that Joe gave to me years before today. I couldn't believe it. How could I never find that out? His name was literally there, right under my own nose.

i got into my room, and my dad was already sleeping on his twin bed. I left a smile, and went to do my skin care at the bathroom. I couldn't even finish washing my face, because somebody knocked on my door.

A  soft knock on the door.

My heart skipped as I turned, my hand hovering over the handle, not quite daring to believe it. My hand started to spin, and I felt out of breath. I know it as him — I could feel through the doors.

But as I opened the hotel door dragging my whole life on the edges of my hads, I saw him there, again, like a deja-vu.was—standing by the elevators, hands in his pockets again, that same shy look on his face. It was Joey.

"Hey," he said, his voice quiet but steady.

I stopped in my tracks, surprised. "Hey. I didn’t think I’d see you again."

He didn’t say anything at first; he just stepped forward, his presence filling the doorway, his eyes never leaving mine. He looked as if he’d been wrestling with his thoughts, with everything left unsaid between us. And then, without another word, he reached up, gently brushing his hand along my jaw, his touch warm and grounding.

“I couldn’t just let it go again,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Not this time.”

I felt my heart pounding in my chest, and I could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the quiet determination that had brought him here. “Joe…” I began, but he didn’t give me a chance to finish.

In a single, careful movement, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine, soft and tentative at first. But as I melted into the kiss, he pulled me closer, his hands settling on my waist as if he couldn’t bear to let me go. I could feel the years between us dissolving, the unspoken words, the moments we’d lost, all coming together in that one kiss.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, his breaths shallow, his gaze intense.

“I’m not going to let you go again,” he murmured, his voice raw, like a promise he’d been holding onto for years. “Not this time.”

I felt a shiver run through me at his words, the weight of them settling over us like a vow. All the years, the distance, the almost—they didn’t matter anymore. Right here, right now, it was just us.

I looked at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and relief. It was like all the years of wondering, all the what-ifs, had finally led us to this moment. I didn’t know what would come next, but for the first time, I felt like I didn’t have to have all the answers. All that mattered was that we were here, together.

"Then don’t," I whispered, leaning into him again. "Don’t let me go."

He smiled, his hand cupping my face as he pulled me in for another kiss. And in that moment, I knew that whatever happened, we were finally where we were meant to be.

[solarbird]

“Are we willing to fight for it?” Crowd: “YES!” “And when we fight?” Crowd: “WE WIN!” — Kamala Harris to campaign staff, 22 July 2024

That’s right, the “if we fight we win” isn’t from me this time. It’s from Kamala Harris, and I am kind of in shock.

One of the things I most feared about the “replace Biden” movement was the donor class yanking the party right again and hand-picking an all old white dudes ticket and absolutely tanking every chance we had of winning this election and stopping Trumpism for good.

Politically active Black people I know personally were expecting that to happen, because that kind of shit has happened so many times. And when political Black people talk about this shit in the Democratic party, you better listen, because their history on this stuff is solid.

I mean, that’s not the only reason I feared it, I have plenty of my own experience watching this same shit go down. But it’s a big one.

That – and all the many money and organisational problems I have described which would result – was about the biggest problem I had with replacing Biden. Particularly once it was clear the money people were moving on it so hard. I was so sure they’d do again what they’ve always done, slide the top of the ticket back to the “right,” repudiating so much economic and climate good the Biden administration has done, trying to haul us back to Clintinesque neoliberalism which would fail more spectacularly than ever before.

That’s also why I was an instant loud and dare I say it strident pivot to Harris when Biden actually did drop out – it was all to stop that money move from happening. That’s why I was out Sunday as loud and long as I could be, shouting, “WHITE PEOPLE, GET HER THE NOMINATION. FUCKING DO IT” while various usual clowns and dilettantes wibbled on demanding an ‘open convention’ and nattering about a ‘flash primary’ and going off about ‘not voting for a cop’ and the wretched spectre of Joe Manchin dipped a skeletal toe into the race.

None of that was an option. It’s still not an option. It had to be her; it has to be her.

And that speech I’m quoting shows why.

I’m still stunned. I never expected to hear a presidential candidate echoing my own words back at me.

I mean, Biden understands exactly what we’re dealing with – fash propaganda aside, he really is still all there, and his words show it. But he’s not able to frame it that way, it’s just not who he is. To see a candidate frame it like this… exactly like this… that’s something new. And I did not expect it.

I am so rarely truly surprised in politics. It has been a while since I have been surprised at all.

This has surprised me.

Another political writer I follow described her as the first Generation X candidate, and maybe that’s why. Technically she’s like two months too early for GenX, she’s in that transition zone, but y’know what? If she wants to grab that label I am fine with that, because those are some words from someone who fucking gets it. From someone who has figured it the fuck out.

Go watch her speech, particularly, oh… the “I know Donald Trump’s type” section starts around 19 minutes in, but the part after that, that’s where it really starts to matter, at 21:45. Here, I timestamped for you, hopefully it’ll work where you’re reading this and if not, just skip ahead:

I’ve been saying – this is the turning point year. The peak year of a fascist movement weakened but not destroyed by self-inflicted wounds of COVID, the last year of the backstop, the year after which we can start to win.

But still I expected that this year that we’d still have to fight under the old rules, playing the old games of the Baby Boom, even if I knew that one final year of holding would shatter it all, and let us make and play by new rules in ’26 and ’28.

Hence, one more year of the bulwark, one more year of the hold.

Until two days ago, on Sunday, July 21st, 2024, that was exactly how it was playing out.

Then a political miracle happened. Biden left the race and the donor class didn’t get their push to the right, and some of them apparently didn’t even want it because they dropped money again the moment Harris announced her campaign.

I guess maybe those rich bastards finally learned a thing or two about not throwing elections.

And that means…

…maybe we don’t have to wait ’til ’26 and ’28.

Maybe it’s not one last hold after all, before the spring.

Maybe the rules can change now.

Maybe Millennials and Zoomers are going to seize the moment this year.

If they do – if you do, if you go in, if you mean it, if you don’t waver and trip yourself up in details and personality and propaganda and purity tests and and and all of it…

…then…

…this year won’t just be a hold.

This year will be the fucking landslide we have needed for eight years now to wipe Trumpism and its like off the map for a century.

Wanna make that happen?

France and England have shown us the way, and christ, I want to make that happen.

How about you? You up for it? You ready to do the work?

Let’s go, then. Everybody.

All in.

104 days remain.

[whorekneecentral]

The Night Before Christmas

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: snow storms, delayed flights, slight disappointment, mention of a christmas miracle, hitchhiking - don't worry andrea is there for adult supervision, incorrect ski terms and whatnot - idk I don't ski, old ladies love joris, fear of flying/small planes, oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, cuddles in bed.

Word Count: 2,225

Author's Note: so sorry for the delay in posting this, I've been in a bit of a slump lately and im trying to get back on schedule with the posting, bare with me lmao

merry smutmas series

--

A massive snow storm delays Charles’ flight home for the holidays and you both begin to give up hope but a Christmas miracle occurs.

Christmas was a bit of a mess this year.

December 24th and Charles Leclerc was stranded in Italy with Andrea and Joris. Charles had gone because he had a Christmas event to do with Ferrari, Joris and Andrea had accompanied him but they decided to go up north and go skiing for the remainder of the week.

They hadn't planned to push it so close to Christmas and then the snow came down; the stupid snow which blocked the roads and left them stranded in the mountains of Italy.

You were a bit disappointed when your boyfriend called to tell you that he wouldn't be able to make it home in time for Christmas. You asked him if there was anything you could do and he told you because of the snow, he wasn't exactly sure when he'd get home.

Charles could hear the disappointment in your voice, and it made him sad to know that he wasn't gonna be able to be home in time to spend Christmas with you.

It was as if Andrea could read Charles' mind; "what?"

"We have to get out of here, we need to go home."

"I know," Andrea tells him, Joris looks up from his laptop, "everything is closed, the roads, the airport, like.. we're stuck."

Charles was nothing if not determined. He made it his mission to make it home in time to spend Christmas with you - bit of a tight task considering it was 10pm on Christmas eve. Nonetheless, he and the boys rallied up - not like Joris or Andrea had a choice - and followed Charles out of the ski resort.

They made it about 2 miles down the road trudging through the snow before they finally came across a ski ranger, the man on his way down the mountain to pick up something they needed on the resort. He was kind enough to let them get in, the 3 of them squished into the back seat as the ranger drove them down. Due to the snow, it took them triple the time to go down than it took to go up but it was progress nonetheless.

Once they made it to the town, they were at crossroads again. How are they going to make it to the airport?

It was a one step at the time sort of plan, if they thought too far ahead, they'd just give up.

Joris wanders into the one place that was still open, a little bakery that was run by the older couple that lived there and they had a grandson who lived not too far off from the airport. The roads were cleared down there but they had no car.

The couple happened to be closing up for the night and on the way to their grandson's, the older woman took a liking to Joris, holding his arm as he led her over to their car.

"Charles!" Joris shouts, waving his friend over. Andrea and Charles wandering over. "Yeah?"

"This is Maria, she and her husband are on their way to grandson's, who lives like-" "He lives five minutes from the airport, let us take you."

"Are you sure?" Charles asks her, as much as he wants to get home, he wouldn't want to put a sweet old woman out of her way.

The woman pinches Charles's cheek, "yes please, I cannot leave you out in the cold. Come, come." She tells him, Andrea helps the older gentleman put all the luggage into the trunk, the 5 of them getting into the car - Charles, Joris and Andrea squished into the backseat again.

The older gentleman, Joe, was just as sweet and welcoming as his wife. They told them stories from when they moved there, how they opened their bakery and their family. As much as Charles appreciated their kind gesture, he was wondering if maybe he should have offered to drive them to the airport.

At some point, an excruciatingly long 3 hour drive - Joe drove slower than most, they made it to the airport.

Maria rolls the window down, saying goodbye to Joris. The photographer holds her hand as she calls for Charles. "Make sure you come back! And bring your girlfriend."

"We will, thank you both so much. I don't know what I can do to repay you."

"Take us to the race next year," Joe calls from next to his wife. Charles laughs, "sounds good, I'll come back and bring your passes."

The 3 of them run into the airport, the boards in front of them display only one word listed to all of the flights - canceled.

Big, bold, red letters crush Charles's heart and his chances of getting home.

Joris pats his friend's shoulder, Andrea already one step ahead of them trying to see if they were anything they could get on to make it home in time - after all, he wanted to get home to his family too.

It's an hour of Andrea bickering with the very tired and annoyed woman behind the counter before Charles joins him, asking her if there was anything they could get on to go home.

The flight to France was 2 hours, he'd manage anything at this point.

"There's one flight, a small passenger plane. I'd have to ask the pilot first."

"Please," Charles says, "I'll pay extra if I need to."

After what felt like another hour the woman finds them and tells them to follow her; she checks them in, getting their passes to them before directing them to where they'd meet the pilot for their flight.

When she said it was a small plane, Charles was expecting small but not this small.

The plane looked like those water planes you'd take from the mainland to an island - it didn't hold more than 6 people.

Charles is just clinging to his seat, counting down the minutes until he can get off that plane. He feels his ears pop, the thud as the plane meets the runway in Nice and he's thanking every god out there for that. They thank the pilot, trying to figure out if they should take the train or just drive home.

None of them have a car at the airport and thank god, it wasn't snowing.

It was Christmas morning, the airport was a madhouse and Charles didn't typically do this but he did use his F1 status to get them a rental, he signed a few autographs for the staff behind the counter and they were off again.

The sun is peeking over the Monaco pier, Andrea drove them home because Charles was too antsy to drive. They dropped him off first.

"Thank you guys, really." He says, standing on the curb with his suitcase.

"We didn't have a choice," Joris tells him jokingly, Andrea nods. "Tell y/n we said Merry Christmas."

"I will," Charles smiles, wishing his friends well before waving them off.

It was good to be home; the man made his way up to your shared apartment, the lights off as you were still sleeping - your soft snores filling his ears as he quietly made his way to the bedroom.

You're tucked away under the covers, the blanket wrapped you up and kept you warm during a lack of Charles in bed. He knew you were a deep sleeper, the fact that he had accidentally slammed the door and it hadn't woken you was sign enough.

He stripped out of his clothes, making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. At some point he thought he heard you shift, he peeked out the door way to find you still sleeping.

Charles joined you in bed shortly after, his arm snaking around your waist, the coldness from the bracelet he had on startled you. Your body responded before you could, taking a second to gather your thoughts - the fight or flight kicking in.

He presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, the smell of his cologne and toothpaste filled your surroundings. "Charles, you're home," you whispered, turning to face the man.

You couldn't fully believe it, not after his call last night, telling you that he wouldn't be making it home.

Your boyfriend smiles, kissing your forehead. "I'm here."

"How?" You mumbled, moving closer to him. Charles's hand presses to your back, rubbing the bare skin softly. "It's a long story, for another time."

You hum, not really caring for the story at the moment. All that matters is that Charles was home and he was home for Christmas. You opened your eyes slightly, peeking at your boyfriend. Both of you wore the same sleepy look - you having just woken up and Charles after a long night of traveling.

You kissed his chin, the man hummed in response. You follow the structure of his face, moving from his chin to his jaw and up to his sideburns, down his cheeks and finally to his lips. Charles pulls you flush against him, his lips holding your hostage.

It had been a long week apart and you both missed each other terribly. Andrea often says you two are like high school kids, all young and in love.

Your arms wrap over his shoulders, pulling the man on top of you. Charles settled himself between your hips. Your boyfriend pulls away from your lips, much to your dismay and finds himself moving down to your neck, along your collarbones and to your chest. Now propped up on your elbows, you watch as your boyfriend's head dips, his teeth softly grazing your stomach on his way to between your legs.

Charles glances up at you and pulls your panties to the side. He was close enough that you could feel his breath on you, your head dropping back when his tongue finally met you.

You look down at your boyfriend between your legs; the man smiling up at you as his arms hook your thighs to pull down flat on his face. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. Charles’s hand on your hip rocks you back and forth slightly, just enough that he can hear his name fall from your lips. 

Your hand rests on his cheek, “I can't believe you're home.” Your eyes meet his blue ones. 

“I'm right here, baby.”

You pull him back down for another kiss. Charles’ hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressed to your clit. Your back arches from the sudden touch, moaning against his lips. 

Charles smiles, his heart fluttering every time knowing he’s the one that reduces you to nothing more than a whimpering mess. 

“Please,” you pull on his hair, “Charles.” 

“What?” He asks, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

You can’t help the whimper slipping past your lips. “Fuck me, please.” You ask sweetly and how could he ever say no to you? 

Charles finds himself moving to hitch your leg on his hip, lining himself up with you before pushing into you. Your back arches and he gives you a second to adjust to him before moving. You’re biting your lip so hard, you probably drew blood.

Your hand drags down his torso, pressed against his toned stomach when you speak. “You feel so good,” you whisper, knowing you can’t speak any louder.  

“Yeah?” He calls, hand slipping between the two of you. 

Your red nails, painted for the holidays, digging into his skin, leaving matching red marks matching the colour of your nails against his pale skin. “Fuck- please yes.” 

Charles doesn’t quit; his fingers rubbing on your clit, the other hand moving your leg from his hip to rest over his shoulder. Just when his ego couldn’t get any bigger, it did. The 16 hanging off the silver chain around your neck, sitting flat against your sternum. 

He can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to it, in the process pushing your leg back. The sound that left your mouth was nothing if not music to his ears. 

The sudden ego boost, Charles takes his chance to ask you. “Who makes you feel this good, amour?” 

You’re trying to answer him but between keeping the same position and his excruciating pace, you couldn't bring yourself to answer him. 

Charles asks again. “Who makes you feel this good, amour ?” 

A strangled answer slips past your swollen lips; “You, only you Charles.” 

The answer satisfies his ego, his focus is making you cum. His hips hitting the back of your thighs, your boyfriend has now moved your other leg over his shoulders. 

“Charles-” you call, your eyes meeting his. He can feel the way you’re clenching around him, his hand moving back to your clit. 

“I know,” he hums, “me too.” 

A few more sloppy thrusts and both of you fall over the edge, one after the other. Charles kisses by your ankle before letting your legs down, settling against you between your legs still. 

Passing a hand through his hair, you smile at your boyfriend; his eyes all droopy and a sleepy smile on his face.

"You're here," you whispered, he nodded and his stubble scratched against your bare skin. "I'm here."

You hum quietly, the sun shining through the curtains in the room, the two of you cuddled up in each other's arms.

"Shall we open gifts?" Charles asks and you shake your head, "they're not going anywhere, let's stay in bed for a bit longer."

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your soft skin. "I like that idea."

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[zvaigzdelasas]

Scene: democratic party headquarters after the debate

Chaos envelops the room as suddenly what everyone has secretly known but haven't been allowed to mention for fear of disinvitation from the weekly brunch meeting is burst out into the open - the elephant in the room - Joe Biden is kinda old with it isn't he what's up with that

Staffers throwing papers in the air for dramatic effect shouting out names of who can replace Biden, how are they gonna do it, what are they gonna do with all the Dark Brandon 2024 mugs bought at market value and sold for 2x that. Staffers shout out names, who will replace biden, like spells that can ward off the charging bull of the Trump campaign, now more sure of itself than ever.

Nobody can agree, there's no napoleon-like figure that comes up to bridge the rifts in the party, the office politics as if game of thrones took place around the water cooler

But in one corner there's a strange calming vibe. The shouting and bickering feels more muffled here. There's almost a sense of....of destiny in the air. As if the clouds have parted and the runway is now clear for the first time in decades.

Well. Maybe just one decade now that I think of it.

She coughs. Everyone turns around.

"Did you really think you'd seen the last of me?"

"I'd rather be chilling, in cedar rapids....but I'll save your party. I'll show you how to be winners for once"

#StillWithHer

[lyrenminth]

JB9 request

They are divorced and have two children together, and he is jealous that she is leaving the kids at his house so she can go on a date. but the meeting was horrible, because the guy is not like Joe

This was a very specific and I had so much fun writing in. A little bit of angst at the end.

What we used to be

The decision for filing the divorce was consciously taken. It was done three years ago, while you went to a rough patch in your marriage. The decision wasn't easy, because you share two children together, and for them was equally hard to understand why mommy and daddy weren't together anymore.

One of the main reasons was after having children, you marriage went cold and dead. He was busy playing football and you were busy mothering a three years old and a nine months old. You didn't have the time to be a couple anymore.

Currently, you decided to start dating again after your friends prompted you to do so. It was difficult because you had to coordinate with Joe (now that you were co-parenting). And of course, was during the off-season because during his seasons you had the kids most of the time. On weekends you dropped the children with Robin so she would take them to the home game. It was a messy life, because you shared a lot of things as a result of the years together. Trying to get rid of Joe was impossible having children with his face and living in Cincinnati. So you made peace with that fact long ago. You got along for the children, he was kind and always asked for your opinion when included the family. And you were polite with him, but nothing else.

You send him a text. "Hey, I'm dropping the kids early this Friday. That's ok?"

Joey B: Yeah, that's ok. Are you busy on Friday?

You: Yeah, something came up. Your home or your parents'?

Joey B: My house. Everything alright?

You: everything alright

That was the last text. After that you waited earnestly for your date. You met John through friends, he seemed like a good guy. By looks, the completely opposite of Joe. John had one child already, and worked for a big company in New York but was living in Cincinnati two years now.

You thought it would be difficult if men knew who was your ex-husband because it had happened one time and it ruin the mood for everyone. Apparently, you completely fucked up or whatever. Well, John didn't know anything about football, he couldn't care less about the Superbowl and that was a pleasant surprise.

So on Friday, you drive Mackenzie and Julian to their dad's house. They were behaving well during all morning. And since it was off-season they could spent the weekend with Joe.

You parked the car, and for your surprise Joe was waiting for them outside.

"Dad!" yelled Julian, running towards Joe who was wearing pants and a hoodie. "Mom, can you help me with my backpack?" asked Mackenzie trying to open the door. You got out of the car, and help her. She made cookies for her dad, and was so happy to share.

You help her to carry the backpack until you were face to face with Joe, who was looking handsome as always.

"Daddy, I made cookies!"

"Daddy, can we play videogames?"

The children demanded attention equally, but Joe was still staring at you. Hard.

"Have I something on my face?" you asked, almost aggressively. You put some make up on and dressed in a nice dress for the occasion.

"No, you fine" he cleared his throat "Not your usual fit"

"Mommy is going on a date" Julian shout, excited. Joe's eyebrows raised, you laughed nervous.

"Well, kids behave well. Enjoy the cookies" you said trying not to look at your ex-husband. "Is that true?" he asked, he sounded kinda jealous. Maybe you were overthinking.

"Well, yes" not wanting to discuss anything further in front of the kids "Take care, Joey"

"Please, call me if you need something" he said, "Let me know you're safe"

Your heart flipped. Why he did those things before your date? Weird. You nodded, going back to the car.

John was a nice man. You were sure he was nice, just...not to you. After thirty minutes in the date he kept talking about himself and his work that you thought you were watching a TED talk. He was good looking, but soon you realize you didn't have anything in common by what he was saying. Your mind wandered to your first date with Joe, it was in a bowling alley. Things got competitive and you spent a really good time together that you hook up in your car after the date. Would you hook up with John? Nah.

"Do you need another drink?" John's voice brought you back from your wild thoughts.

"No, thank you"

"So, you told me your ex-husband was a football player, right?"

"Yes" you said cautiously "He still plays"

"And how do you get along?"

"We talked only for the kids"

"Ummm, sure" he dismissed your answer. You raised your eyebrows, astonished. "What do you mean?" you wondered.

"Nothing. I didn't tell you about this trip I'm going to make next month..." he started talking again.

Joe bought you drinks too. You loved his smile back then. Julian had the same smile actually. After getting married you had very nice dates too, but you loved to spend time at home watching movies and resolving puzzles.

The date went on, and you have to excuse yourself or would die of boredom. After the date you missed your children so much, but it was Joe's time with them. So you went to your house and waited.

On Sunday evening, you went to pick up the kids. After a couple of minutes, Joe appeared wearing shorts and a compression shirt. He looked really handsome, his sandy hair was messy, he looked younger somehow.

"Hey" you said, nervous.

"The kids are in the pool" he explained "Come in while I prepare them"

"Oh, no. I can wait in the car" you replied, pointing at your car. He looked up-and-down, and pressed his lips. You blushed like a teenager "I bet they want to see you"

"Okay" you whispered, follow him inside the house. "How was your date?" the question made you flinch. You didn't remember John at all. "Umm, it was good"

I was bored as hell, and thinking about you. How pathetic.

Silence. By the way he was looking at you, he didn't believe you either. You reach the kitchen and he offered something to drink and you decline. "Are you going to the OTAs early this year?" you wondered, hearing music and the children screams outside.

"No, I'm going to spend time with the kids" you nodded, pleased. Joe was a great father, you never doubted that.

You locked eyes, and your stomach made weird things. His eyes softened, and he got closer to you.

"Y/N can we talk about us?" he requested.

"What?" you were in panic mode "About what?"

"The divorce. I thought were struggling but I never listen to you" he said, seriously "Until you fill in the papers" Your heart sank. His lips were still pressed, the wrinkles on his forehead let you know he was stressed too. "I feel like we never had the time to stop and think what we're doing" he said softly.

The bump in your throat didn't let you speak properly. You tried anyway. "I try to speak to you, Joey. I tried to do many things to save our marriage. It didn't work, you were focused on football, and I felt utterly alone" you wipe a treacherous tear "We weren't a couple anymore. I didn't have a partner"

"Mommy! Daddy!" Julian got into the house all wet and hugged you. "Do you want to see how I jump into de pool?"

"Julian, mommy is here to pick you up" Joe explained "Go and tell your sister" Julian nodded and went happily to his sister. Joe attention was on you again. "We should speak about this with more time"

"Why? Are you trying to marry me again?" you joked frustrated he wasn't listening again. "Yes, I never wanted a divorce" he replied ardently. The confession hit you. "Then, why did you fill the divorce?"

"Because I was scared..." the footsteps didn't let him finish "I'll send you a message, please"

You left Joe's house confused and heartbroken. Even though, you couldn't avoid the hope growing in your chest.

Let me know if you want a second part. I think it would be cool.

[qqueenofhades]

I don’t understand. Why is not only the NYT but EVERYONE screaming in circles about Biden’s age? I mean I too would love a slightly younger president, but faced with Trump, I don’t understand how this is even a discussion. What can the motive possibly be?

First answer: Money. The corporate media is not your friend for many reasons, but especially because it will happily shill for open fascism, and sabotage Biden left and right, because the corporations and/or oligarchs who own the media (think how hard Elon has been trying to shill for Trump partly due to Biden's promised 25% billionaire tax) do not give a shit about American democracy. It's kind of nice in theory, maybe, but they do not give a shit as long as they get their tax breaks and "pro-business" legislation, which Trump has perforce promised to give them again. They are also not fans of Biden for other reasons, especially since he has been busy promoting unions, new labor laws, new industrial requirements/standards (even as fast as SCOTUS is trying to strip them away) and other things that interfere with the Reagonomics pursuit of the rich getting richer by any means necessary. Biden is the first US president since Reagan to openly call trickle-down economics bullshit, say that it doesn't work, and try to install a new economic model. Everyone who got rich under Reagonomics, therefore, has incentive to get rid of him.

First-continued, the money element also extends to the fact that Trumpists/MAGA love reading stories about how old and frail Biden is (especially if this distracts from their candidate being a raging fascist lunatic), so they will click on the story and read it and gleefully share it with other Trumpists/MAGA to shout about how terrible Biden is and how the Trump Vengeance Train is coming. "Biden actively dying RIGHT NOW!!" stories also make Democrats panic, so they will click on it and read it to find out how much they should be panicking, then share it with other Democrats to let them know that they should ALSO be panicking. Either way, it drives page views and advertising revenue, so the media is once more financially incentivized to produce these kinds of stories and to find "facts" that fit these stories, regardless of whether or not they are, uh, true. American media swings conservative in many ways, but especially if they can promote the "both sides the same!" or "Horserace!!!" narrative to keep Republicans gleeful and Democrats nervous.

Basically, no mainstream media outlet (even the so-called liberal ones like MSNBC) has any financial interest or incentive in supplying Americans with accurate information (we live in late-stage capitalist hell, etc) and many of them are openly pining for Trump back in office so they can be Principled Truth Tellers In Exile, get clicks and coverage from reporting on the crazy things he does (think the CEO of CBS saying that Trump was "bad for America but great for CBS") and other activities that drive the bottom line. This also adds up to an impulse to shill for Trump and sabotage Biden, who is competent but boring. After, American politics are a reality show and should be Driving Headlines!!!! Fascist America would be a great story!!! Think of the ratings!!!

.... anyway. We! live! in! hell!

Second, the media also loves to push "Democrats in disarray" stories, because there has always been a WILD double standard in regard to how they cover the Democrats vis-a-vis the Republicans. As such, they have completely given up on mentioning anything even slightly critical about Trump, and the 500 disqualifying and awful things he has already done and continues to do every day, in favor of driving as hard as they can at the "Biden should step down!!" story. Now, I'm not denying that obviously, I wish we had a better (and younger) candidate and that Biden's health is a legitimate issue, but trying to do it to the incumbent FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE ELECTION is an exercise in sheer insanity and something that the media wants to do because again, It Would Get Clicks!!, regardless of how insane it would in fact be. It's also insane because this is the same exact fucking thing that the media did to Hillary Clinton in 2016 (running MONTHS of stories about her health problems, her emails, how she was secretly ill and/or the Democrats should replace her, etc) and A LOT OF Y'ALL ARE FALLING FOR IT AGAIN. Which isn't terrifying or anything, but also.

Now, of course, the establishment Democratic party is partly complicit in the tone of this coverage, and that is also a problem. I personally want to smack every "anonymous Democratic adviser" or "Democratic politician" giving these Anxiety Concern Quotes to Politico, NYT, the BBC, and wherever else with a brick over the goddamn head and tell them to Shut the Absolute Fuck Up and dedicate all their energy to helping Biden win, instead of deliberately and unhelpfully perpetuating the narrative that he's about to die at any moment. (And also, if he did have to step aside before or after the election for any reason: THE ONLY DEMOCRATICALLY ELECTED CANDIDATE TO REPLACE HIM IS KAMALA HARRIS. KAMALA HARRIS IS THE ONLY PERSON WITH ANY LEGITIMACY TO TAKE OVER THE NOMINATION AND/OR OFFICE OF POTUS FROM BIDEN. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT AND THINK YOUR MAGICAL WHITE MAN WILL PARACHUTE IN THERE INSTEAD, SHUT UP. THERE IS NO OTHER OPTION EXCEPT HARRIS. SHUT THE FUCK UP FOREVER.)

/deep breaths

Anyway. That is how you end up here: where the media is still diligently pretending this is an absolutely normal race between a terrible degenerate ancient Sekritly Dying Biden and.... some totally normal establishment Republican and not literally Donald Goddamn Trump. They are running many of the exact same hatchet jobs that they ran on Hillary Clinton for the same exact reasons, and ask yourself this: if Biden is just the status-quo stooge who will never change anything, HAS never changed anything, and is otherwise completely acceptable to the American/global power structure, why are they SO FUCKING DESPERATE to get him out? Why are they throwing absolutely everything they have at prying out a successful (albeit yes, old) incumbent when that incumbent is, by any reasonable metric, the most progressive president since at LEAST FDR, very definitely in any of the post-Reagan years, and possibly ever? Why are they so shit-scared of Biden as demonstrably the only candidate who can (and has) already beaten Trump, and therefore his entire ghoulish agenda of American fascism forever?

I just think it's worth pondering these questions. Yes, I had an awful anxiety attack today and applied to several jobs in Europe because the Fight or Flight instinct kicked in HARD that I needed to start working on a plan to get out of Fascist America, just in case. However, we can still forestall it. Yet again, as I will include in every post on the subject between now and November:

The end.

[dev-solovey]

Reading up on the history of American Idiot (album) and realizing exactly how revolutionary it was and I just have to yell about it for a hot second

So, before they started working on American Idiot, the band was having problems and they were thinking they were going to break up. But for a couple of reasons, they switched directions, most notably because they all felt strongly about the Iraq War and how it was manufactured by greed and warmongering from the Bush administration, which was amplified by the news media. I read a quote from Billie Joe Armstrong where he talked about how the news media was becoming "more of a reality show" than it was news, and he couldn't have been more right. In fact, that problem got worse, and now we're living in an era of rampant misinformation where everything is politicized to a point where just supporting human rights for marginalized people is considered controversial. The song American Idiot came out in 2004, and when Donald Trump first visited the UK at the beginning of his presidency, it was the top played song on every UK radio station, 12 years after it was released. Most things would be culturally irrelevant at that point.

When creating the album American Idiot, a lot of thought went into it - they had a very specific message in mind, and their goal was to send that message to youth. This is because they realized at some point that their fanbase was a bunch of teenagers, and even though they hadn't necessarily intended it that way, they suddenly had a platform with the youth of America and they decided they ought to do something good with it. The drummer, Tré Cool, said something along the lines of "I've never really liked the idea of preaching to kids, but I realized we don't really have a choice at this point." And I love that so much because like, so many people who get rich and famous just become completely out of touch, and when they get a platform, it's very easy to exploit that platform, influence them with terrible ideas, or encourage them to act in terrible ways for self-serving reasons (ex: JK Rowling, Andrew Tate, Dream, Logan Paul, Onision, etc etc). Green Day refused to allow themselves to get to that point. They know the platform they had gave them power and they made an active choice early on to be responsible with it. And a lot of that moral code comes from the fact that they came up in the DIY punk scene in Oakland, which held its members to a very high standard of ethics, a code that they still follow even after they were disowned by that scene when they signed on with a major record label in 1994.

The song American Idiot has a message of "this mass media hysteria is manufactured bullshit, don't fall for it," and it is not subtle about that message. It punches you right in the face. I remember being 12 years old and listening to it and thinking, "yeah, I don't want to be an American idiot." And now, at the age of 28, I am a staunch leftist who is firmly against the atrocities the US government commits, and I feel strongly about stopping misinformation. So I can say with absolute certainty that they succeeded.

I also get like, really upset when people say that American Idiot is the album where they sold out, because that's objectively not true, both for the reasons I've provided above, and also because of the song Wake Me Up When September Ends. Not a lot of people know the story behind this song, but it's actually a song that Billie Joe wrote about the experience of his dad dying of cancer when he was 10 years old. The story, as he tells it, is that when he came home from school, his mom gave him the news, and being (understandably!) upset, started crying, ran to his room and slammed the door. When she knocked on the door to try and talk to him, he shouted "wake me up when September ends!!" in response. It took him decades to be able to write this song, and it shows because it's the perfect grief song, having been played at benefits for 9/11, hurricane Katrina, and so on. The first time I heard that song it reduced me to tears, because you can hear the intense sadness in it. A "sellout" would never write a song like that!! (Side note: maybe stop tweeting at Green Day to wake up every October 1st, it's super tone deaf given the subject matter,,,)

Anyway, I think I'm done being autistic about Green Day (that's a lie, they'll forever be my special interest), so TL;DR:

Thank you, Green Day, for creating a generation of leftists who aren't about the bullshit

[hubbvrd]

number 45 with joe burrow please 💕💕

Surprise | Joe Burrow

summary — Moving house is not always stress-free. But despite the last few hard weeks, Joe makes sure to put a smile on your face with a surprise

pairing — joe burrow x reader

words — 1952

notes — thanks for your request. I hope you like it!!🧡

The last few weeks and months had been associated with a lot of stress and headaches.

Anyone who loved moving and said that it wasn't so bad and stressful was completely wrong.

For Joe and you, there had been nothing worse in the last few weeks and months than setting up your new home and packing moving boxes.

The countless hours spent in various furniture stores had been a lot of fun for you, but when it came to painting various walls and putting together all the countless pieces of furniture, there was the occasional argument between you out of sheer desperation.

However, you were able to resolve the small arguments about how you should place the furniture in the respective rooms fairly quickly, so that every small argument was resolved within a few minutes.

"This is finally the last one." Joe puts the last box down in the hallway before running his fingers through his completely disheveled hair.

"We've finally done it," you murmur with relief and hand Joe a bottle of water before sitting down on the step and catching your breath.

In the last two hours, you've moved countless boxes from your old home to your new home and dragged them inside, so you're more than sure you'll be feeling sore muscles for the next few days.

"Finally," Joe agrees as he sits down next to you on the step and you rest your head on his shoulder.

"And who's going to unpack all our stuff now?" you mumble tiredly as you look at the piles of boxes blocking the passage to the open-plan living and dining room.

"That's the question..." Joe takes a big gulp from his water bottle before running his fingers through his hair again and letting out a loud sigh.

The move is already pretty exhausting as it is, but then there's the hot weather, which has doubled the strain on your strength.

"How about we take a little break first? We rest and eat a little and then we'll take care of all the boxes?" Joe suggests after a few minutes of silence, which almost caused you to doze off any second.

"Sounds like a great plan. If I knew where my bikini was, I'd jump into the cold water first and inaugurate our new pool."

A highlight for you is definitely the large pool in the garden, where you can swim a few lengths undisturbed or simply float in the water with an inflatable swimming animal.

"Fortunately, I've made sure that we can easily get to our swimming gear.

With a proud smile on his lips, Joe lifts a bag in front of your nose, from which he pulls out your bikini and you jump for joy, shrieking softly around your boyfriend's neck.

"You don't know how much I love you."

You give Joe a kiss on the cheek and then pick up your bikini.

Joe gives you a soft laugh in response.

"Let's see who's in the pool first." He more or less challenges you and before you can answer, Joe has already disappeared into the bathroom to get changed.

"That's not fair! You started way too early!" you shout after him with a laugh and slowly get up from the stairs.

You can already feel the muscles in your arms and thighs starting to ache slightly and you probably won't be able to move without pain tomorrow.

But you don't really care about that right now, because the only thing that matters right now is the pool of your new garden, so you quickly change into your everyday clothes and then throw on your favorite bikini before grabbing your towel and running into the garden.

Your old garden was quite small and had hardly any space to do anything big in it, which wasn't the case at all in the new garden.

The new garden is almost three times the size of the old garden and offers so much space for countless possibilities that the huge green space is almost crying out to be filled with beautiful things.

Once the house is ready, Joe and you will get to work on the garden, for which your Pinterest board was already almost overflowing with countless different possibilities just waiting to be realized.

"Do you want to keep staring at the garden or finally join me in the pool?" Joe's voice pulls you back to the here and now.

Your boyfriend is already in the water, floating on his back through the water, looking so relaxed and rested that a smile spreads across your lips.

"The water's even nice and cold" he adds as he slowly stands up and swims over to the edge of the pool.

"Just what I need, then."

A smile forms on your lips as you walk across the warm lawn to the pool and then sit down at the edge and let your legs slide into the cold water.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you begin to feel the cold water on your skin. Joe is right, despite the heat today, the water is incredibly pleasant, so you slide into the cool water without hesitation and then stand opposite Joe.

"I was telling the truth," he smiles, trying to tell you that he's not always pulling your leg like you accused him of a few days ago.

Because every now and then Joe loved to pull your leg, more or less.

Just yesterday he tried to convince you to watch a movie that wasn't even supposed to be scary. But in the end, you were so creeped out that you had to bury your face in Joe's shirt for the rest of the movie.

"This time, but who knows when you won't. I think you like to tease me, Burrow, and that's not fair."

You splash a little water on his face, which only makes the person opposite you start to laugh quietly.

"Lie. I would never do this. How could I?" he replies with a laugh and a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"You're such a liar," you pout lightly as you swim towards him and then cling to him, trying to somehow push him under the water, which turns out not to be too easy.

Joe is standing so firmly that you barely manage to move him even an inch.

A resounding laugh rings out above you, which only makes you pout even more.

"That's not fair."

"Oh, y/n. You really are incredibly cute." amused, Joe presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms tightly around you and starts to swim off with you.

"I'll probably have to eat the whole pizza by myself today so that I can push you under the water tomorrow," you reply with a shrug and a big grin on your lips, to which Joe just rolls his eyes.

"How much time do we have until the pizza arrives?"

After you had put on your bikini, you ordered pizza for both of you via a delivery service so that you didn't have to cook anything or drive out to get something to eat.

"About another thirty minutes."

"That's enough." In one swift movement, Joe lifts you out of the pool and climbs out after you.

"Hey, we haven't been in the pool long," you pout again as Joe puts the towel around your shoulders and you snuggle up in it.

"We still have enough time for this in the coming weeks, months and years."

You watch Joe as he also puts a towel around his shoulders before holding out his hand to you with the words "Follow me, I have a suprise for you"

"A surprise? I love surprises!" you exclaim in anticipation as you take Joe's hand in yours and another soft laugh comes from Joe's direction.

"I know that. That's why I love giving you surprises." Joe squeezes your hand gently before walking with you across the lawn to the small hut at the end of the garden.

In fact, it wasn't exactly rare for Joe to give you a surprise.

He often brought you flowers, your favorite sweets or ice cream after training or after a game.

He also often took you out to dinner or on other romantic dates.

Joe's romantic side was one of the many reasons you fell in love with the Bengals quarterback.

"Do you want to show me all the big, nasty spiders in the cabin?" you ask with a slightly contorted face as you start to think back to the day of the tour.

Because on the day you first visited your dream house and were blown away by it, the hut more or less disgusted you.

Because the huge mess, which was accompanied by countless spiders and cobwebs in the hut, had already given you a big stomach ache during the viewing, so that you were already dreading having to clear this hut of all the spiders and cobwebs one day and then clean it out.

"No, don't worry," Joe assures you as you stop in front of the hut, which now has a new coat of white paint and no longer shows the hideous peeling paint, and Joe takes out the keys.

Outside the windows of the hut you can see white curtains that hadn't been there before.

Before you can even ask Joe why the cabin has curtains, Joe opens the door and gently pushes you inside and what you see inside leaves you open-mouthed.

The walls are lined with countless white bookshelves that reach up to the ceiling. There is a ladder on the shelves, which ensures that you can easily reach the top shelves.

All your books have found their place on the shelves and despite all this, there are still countless free compartments for more new books.

There is also a cozy armchair for reading, a matching stool, lots of fairy lights and lamps, as well as a rug that makes the room even cozier.

"Wow..." you stammer, overwhelmed, as you slowly turn in a circle, trying to take in every corner of the room.

Joe stands in the doorway and watches you with a broad smile as tears slowly well up in your eyes and you look over at him, moved.

"Surprise," he whispers as you cross the room in three long strides and fall into your boyfriend's arms as sobs escape you.

"Thank you, darling," you whisper, sobbing into his chest as he wraps his arms around you and hugs you gently.

"I thought this hut was perfect for your reading room. Here you can read undisturbed and run your book blog and all your other book channels."

"It really is. You don't know how much this means to me, thanks Joe." You slowly lift your gaze and look into your boyfriend's shining eyes.

"I was happy to do that, y/n. It's incredibly important to me that you have your own four walls where you can pursue your passion and since our house isn't really finished yet, it was important to me that this room is finished first and that you have it so that you can retreat and immerse yourself in the world of books."

Joe's words cause countless tears to start rolling down your cheeks.

You can't put into words how touched you are by his words and his surprise, so you whisper a quiet "Thank you" and then press your lips to Joe's.

And you realize once again how much you love Joe. And how grateful you are that he is by your side and that you are the one who gets to wake up by his side every day.

[janeyseymour]

Won't You Be... My Neighbor?- pt. 5

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Summary: JJ is with Joe, and you and Melissa are at the hospital.

WC: ~1.7k

JJ is screaming, crying, terrified. His father has just taken him from the place that he’s finally gotten used to calling home- from the two people that he feels at home with. His shoulder is on fire, and the way that his father is driving is more than scary.

But he’s silenced when Joe’s voice comes booming out, screaming at him to shut the fuck up, and his cheek is smacked. The little boy is reduced to silent tears that pour down his face continuously. He wishes that his momma were with him- that you were with him protecting him like you promised you would. He still can’t believe that you couldn’t make good on your promise- and even at his young age, he doesn’t fault you. He knows that if it were up to you, he would still be safely tucked into your arms in the bathroom and waiting for the police to arrive.

“Fuckin’ Melissa,” he shouts as he slams his hands on the steering wheel. “Fuckin’ fuckin’ the lawyer- no wonder the bitch won. Gonna fuckin’ kill her the next time I see her.”

JJ’s eyes widen. This is not the father he knew. He knew of Joe to not always be the most helpful or father of the year when it came to parental responsibilities- no, that was all Melissa. But he’s never gone around cursing like this in front of his son- never threatening to harm his mother. And he… he smells awful. What is that smell? The answer to that silent question is: vodka, not that the young one would be able to identify that scent. His father reeks of vodka, and he only continues to bring the bottle to his lips as he drives. The little boy is nearly thrown out of his seat as his father slams on the brakes, just narrowly avoiding a car that is coming at him. And before the four year old knows it, he’s seeing the skyline of the city off in the distance behind him.

“I want Momma,” the little one whimpers from the back. “I want Momma and Y/N.”

“Well, you aren’t getting them,” Joe sneers. “You’re mine now.”

Even at the young age that JJ is, he knows that’s not true. He knows that the reason that they were in court earlier today was because it was to determine where he would stay- the judge had explained that much to him and had even asked him who he would rather be with. Of course, his answer was that he wanted to stay with Melissa. He told the judge how Joe never played with him, was never home for dinner or for bedtime. JJ explained to the judge that Melissa was the best momma that he could ever ask for- that she was always there for cuddles, to play, make breakfast and dinner, that she gives him more love and hugs than anyone in the world, and that his momma is his absolute favorite person. He remembers that he told the judge that he loves where he lives now… he mentioned that he loves living there because you reside just down the hall, and you’re his second favorite person. He silently cries in the backseat as he quickly buckles himself in, praying that he’ll be reunited with his momma and you- and soon. 

The ambulance arrives not a few minutes after you place the call, and your heart breaks as they lift her onto the stretcher and she cries out in pain. Melissa is always so strong, not one to show that she’s struggling unless it’s in the confines of her own home- but this is something even beyond her. She can’t do anything other than writhe in pain- both at the hurt in your ribs and at the aching in her chest as she is terrified for her son’s fate.

You climb into the medical vehicle and hold the redhead’s hand the entire time. She doesn’t even register the absolute searing pain in her sides anymore- now she is just concerned for her son.

“They said they would have people meet us at the hospital,” you promise her. “And when I mentioned the Schemmenti name, the operator seemed shocked. So, maybe you always knowing a guy will work out in your favor.”

“If they don’t send Tommy to me, I will raise hell,” she grits through her teeth.

When the two of you arrive, the man in blue is indeed the one that she mentioned, and she feels the slightest bit of relief at that.

“Melissa Schemmenti, you look like hell,” the officer whistles lowly.

“You blues better fuckin’ get Joe,” is all the redhead grits out as they wheel her into the back. “Take Y/N’s statement, and get Joe.”

And so, while she is being assessed, taken back for various tests to ensure that there is no internal bleeding or anything of the likes, you sit in the room while the doctor tries to insist on also examining your own wounds and speak with Tommy. You brush off the doctor- your only focus right now is getting Melissa’s son back home safely.

“I don’t even know what happened,” you tell him honestly. “All I know is he was piss drunk, and I fought tooth and nail to keep that little boy safe.”

“Ma’am, any information is valuable.”

“Okay,” you will yourself to think back to just about an hour ago. You close your eyes, trying to concentrate, and you’re taken back to the apartment where everything had just happened. “Melissa and I were asleep on the couch… and I woke up when she started screaming. He- he had a bat. And he beat Melissa senselessly while screaming that she was fucking me- we are not… He beat me in the side. She told me to get her son, JJ- uh, Joe Jr. We raced to the back rooms where he was sleeping. I somehow got him despite him hitting me with the bat in the leg. We were locked in the bathroom, and Joe- he broke the door. I held onto him as much as I could. But Joe was stronger and… he pulled…” you start to break down remembering the way that JJ had screamed. “JJ’s arm got pulled out of its socket. And then he took off with him. By the time I hobbled my way to the door, his car was out of sight.”

“We’ve already sent an amber alert out for him,” the officer promises you. Do you have any photos of the little boy to help identify him?”

You pull up a photo of JJ on your phone, one of him with Melissa and Joe.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please find him.”

The officer, in a rather out of character move, places his hand over yours. “With Melissa’s family being involved? Yeah, we’s gonna find that little boy, and Joe is going to pay.”

“Good,” you wipe at your tears. “And when you do find him, take him to whatever hospital is closest… God, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get that ear piercing shriek of his out of my head.”

“He’ll get taken care of,” Tommy promises you. “Just like Melissa is now, and how you should be for that knee of yours.” He gestures to it. “It don’t look right at all.”

“I’ll get to it,” you wave him off. “Right now, Mel needs all the care she can get, and JJ is our top priority.”

“Just remember that you can’t help them if you aren’t helping yourself,” the officer tells you as he pats your hand once more. Then he’s trailing back to his other colleagues to tell them what you had said.

You’re led back to Melissa’s room, where they have her in a bed now. Her eyes are foggy, and you can’t tell what she’s thinking. The doctor comes in a few seconds later.

“She’s high as a kite right now,- it was the only way to get her to stop cursing us out for not letting her find her son,” he tells you. “Three broken ribs from what he did to her.”

“I didn’t want it,” the redhead in the bed slurs out. “I just want my son.”

“And we’ll find him, Mrs. Schemmenti,” the doctor promises. “For now, all you can do is focus on getting better.”

“I don’t give a shit if I get better or not,” the woman is as feisty as ever. “All I need is JJ.”

“Mel,” you whisper as you limp your way over. You press a kiss to her hairline, and even with all of the morphine she’s on, she manages a smile. “We’re going to find him, and he’s going to be just fine. I promise.” You only hope that you can keep that promise- because your guilt will eat you alive if you can’t. The thought of something worse happening to that sweet little boy makes you sick to the stomach, and you have to choke down the bile that threatens to come up.

“We’re going to keep her overnight for observation,” the doctor informs you once you’ve choked it down. “But then she’s going to be released. Will you be the one with her?”

“I will be,” you confirm.

“Then you should let us check you out too, so you can help her the best you can,” he presses again.

With a roll of your eyes, you let them examine you, but you are adamant that you do not leave the redhead’s side. She falls asleep during the checkover, and all they tell you is that you’ll be sore for the next few days.

“Not as bad as her,” you sigh as you rub your thumb over Melissa’s knuckles. 

“Get some sleep for now,” the doctor tells you. “The police will be back tomorrow morning to get her statement when she isn’t drugged up, and we’ll instruct you on recovery for her in the morning.”

You insist on them wheeling a bed into the same room as the teacher. Your beds are right next to each other- close enough that you can grip Melissa’s hand softly in your own as you fall asleep, and as your drifting off to sleep, you feel the redhead squeeze your hand gently. 

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[blushhingblue]

Regular Customer

Yandere!Love Quinn x Reader age gap, kidnapping

As per usual, around half past twelve, the door of Love’s bakery would chime, and in would walk her favorite customer. Love’s face would beam in excitement, a welcoming smile plastered across her face. You slid up to the counter and returned her smile. Before you could mutter a word, she was already making your coffee just the way you liked it.

"How are you, Love?" you inquired.

She stopped facing the coffee machine only for a second to look over her shoulder. Her eyes were longing to admire your face, but she swiftly looked away as you were already looking at her.

"I’m hanging in there. Henry is doing well, though. He’s with my mom since Joe’s at work," she explained.

She wanted you to know every little detail about her life. She figured if you knew everything, you were somehow indirectly part of her personal life itself. She handed you your coffee, and as you tried to hand her money, she shook her head and pushed it away.

"Come on. You have to let me pay at least once."

She shook her head stubbornly, but your hand was stubborn too, not refusing to move. Eventually, realizing she wasn’t going to take it, you shoved it in the tip jar and headed out the door.

"See you tomorrow!" She called out as the door closed.

Her heart was left beating irregularly. The rest of the day, there were mediocre customers, none of whom radiated like you. Whenever you weren’t around, she was desperate for you to be. As she arrived home, she was met with a familiar darkness and cold. A household where love used to be so vibrant and alive was now devoid of anything.

Joe was gone. Love knew he was out preying on some woman, as if he didn’t have a wife at home. When they first moved and Joe started obsessing over Natalie, it hurt, but now she didn’t feel anything towards him except resentment. She headed upstairs to Henry’s room and saw her mother putting him to sleep.

"Thank you. I really appreciate you being here," Love said.

Dottie placed a hand over her heart and said, "Of course, anything for my grandson."

Love was surprised she didn’t get a snarky remark as she walked Dottie out. She checked the time. It read 9:37, and Joe still wasn’t home. Love didn’t really care, but it felt like time went by so slowly when you weren’t near.

She sat on the couch with her head in her hands, thinking about all the things she wanted to do with you. She wants to hold your hands and kiss your sweet lips. She wants to buy a house and grow old with you. That’s when she decided tomorrow was going to be the day she did something about it.

The next day, Love was noticeably nervous while serving customers. Her hands were shaking so rapidly that she even dropped a cupcake. When she had no one to serve, she kept an attentive eye on the clock. It was four in the afternoon. Where were you? She began to feel anxious, like something bad had happened to you. Just as her nerves were beginning to boil over, you walked in.

"Y/N! You’re here!" She practically shouted, her hands slapping down onto the counter in excitement.

"Yeah. Here I am," you said in a questioning tone with an eyebrow raised. "What has you so excited?"

"Just my favorite customer," Love said, already about to go make your regular.

You gently grabbed her by the wrist to stop her. She felt her heartbeat begin to rise as a faint pink blush covered her pale cheeks. Your touch was so light yet had such an effect on her. At this very moment, Love was practically putty in your hands.

"I think it’s a tad bit late for coffee, and you’ve probably been working so hard all day. Why don’t we sit down?"

The light pink hue on her cheeks had grown into a blazing red. She felt as though she was going to pass out. That was until you let go of her wrist. Now that she’s felt your touch, she can’t go back to not having it. You pulled out a chair for her, and she quickly scurried over like a lost puppy.

"Thank you," she muttered.

What was happening? Love was usually so outgoing and boisterous. How had you made her so shy?

"Love, I’ve been thinking," you started, but took a deep breath to release your nerves. "You’re a beautiful, mature woman, and admittedly, I’ve developed some feelings for you."

At this very moment, Love felt her world light up. You were going to be the one she came home to, cuddled to sleep with, and folded laundry with. You were the one. She immediately reached over the table and grabbed your hand, just enjoying the warmth it expelled.

"And that’s why this is so hard,"

Both Love’s smile and mood dropped. She felt your hand loosen from her grasp, though Love didn’t let go.

"You’re 28 and I’m 19. This will never work. Besides, you’re a married woman with a child."

Y/N, we can make it work!" Love cried, practically begging for you to stay with her: "I don’t even love him!"

"I think that's a problem for you to figure out with him. I just wanted to stop by and tell you that this is the last time you'll see me. I want these feelings I have for you to go away, and that can't happen if I'm seeing you every day," you explained.

You tugged your hand out of her tight grip. Love knew she had to think fast. She couldn't let you go, not now and not ever.

"Wait Y/N. Let me at least give you a goodbye gift. How about a box of treats?" Love suggested, seeming much less sad than she did a few moments ago.

You figured that the idea of her giving you a parting gift made her happier and filled her with some sort of closure, so you obliged. As you nodded, she walked over behind the counter, her steps much more buoyant than before. In a large box, she placed a mélange of Danishes, cupcakes, tarts, and just about every other pastry available.

"What do I owe you?" you asked, taking your wallet out of your pocket.

"Nothing, silly. This is a gift." Love giggled childishly and handed you the heavy box of treats.

"Thank you, Love, You've always been so kind to me, and I'm sorry I ended our friendship." You apologized, a sad glint masking your eyes.

"I'm sorry, too,"

"For what?"

Just then, you noticed she only handed the unusually heavy box to you with one hand and had the other positioned behind her back. Before you could connect the dots and save yourself, she took a rolling pill out from behind herself and hit you over the head with it.

When you awoke several hours later, you were lying on a hard floor with a single, thin blanket underneath you. In confusion, you looked up and saw that you were trapped in a glass cage full of baking supplies. That's when everything came rushing back to you. You touched your head and winced as you pressed the gauze.

Although severely panicked, you tried to think rationally and push open the door. But, unfortunately, Love wasn't stupid, and she wouldn't make such a foolish mistake. Next, you tried to open the box that you can only assume Love would give you food and other small necessities through. This time it actually worked, but the opposite side wasn't openable. Lastly, you began to look through the nooks and crannies of the cage, hoping to find a key. Though when you found nothing, you knew it was helpless. You sat back down and pondered your options.

"Speak of the devil," you mumbled under your breath as you saw her peek out from behind a wall.

"Hi sweetheart!"

"Love, where the fuck am I?" you yelled, raising your voice at her for the first time ever.

All Love could do was smile and place her hand on the glass.

"Look, I know this isn't ideal for you, but it's either this or you leave me forever, and I couldn't deal with even the thought of that."

You didn't say anything and only looked at the floor.

"I promise, once I know you won't try to leave me, I'll let you out. Once that happens, we can raise Henry together." She swooned at the idea of becoming a family.

"What about Joe? How could you betray him like this?"

"Don't worry about Joe; he's taken care of, and I didn't betray him. I was once in love with him too, but once he saw the side of me that you're seeing, he didn't reciprocate my feelings anymore. He moved on and began preying on other women. I knew I couldn't win him back, but then you started coming to my bakery, and all the feelings I once felt for him, I began to feel for you," she explained.

"I don't blame him for wanting to leave once he saw this. I want to as well."

Love frowned. "I'll come back when you've adjusted better."

She began to grab her belongings.

"Wait, Love,"

She turned around, expecting an apology or a love proclamation, but that was wishful thinking.

"Do you have anything for me to eat?" You asked.

She scoffed in response and stomped away and up the stairs. You sighed and began to accept your fate.