#and it makes the clothes look cheaper somehow

[brunetterightsactivist]

i swear i should be head of marketing somewhere because most of these companies need HELP like even at my actual job they need help but i'm beyond caring there i'm talking about clothing companies mainly like why are you trying to rebrand JUST as everything from 15-20 years ago is reaching peak popularity again like i actually can't make sense of it. very few big companies have good marketing from what i see

[no-144444]

the break up of the century - (l.norris, no 4)

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pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! singer! reader

summary: you and lando break up on horrible terms, can a new album and a special performance bring you back together? is that even what you two want?

7.6k + words, brief fade-to-black smut, fluff, mainly angst :)

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You weren’t sure how it happened, one moment you were on stage, the next, you were crying in your dressing room, hating every single thing about your life. Funny how one moment leads into the next, right? 

Y/n Y/l/n. Household name at the age of 19. Now, 23. Fans impatiently awaiting your next album, the album you hated, and now on a world tour that is sucking the life from your body. 

Sounds like you have it all. 

The money, the fame, the clothes, the boys, the voice. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed of. And now it means nothing, because you have it. And it’s nowhere near as good as you wanted it to be.

You’d always been told of the horror stories of fame taking more than it gave, and you always brushed it off with a smile and a ‘that’ll never happen to me’. Low and behold, you’ve had 4 stalkers in 2 years, 3 lawsuits against you from old record companies that dropped you, 2 grammys, and 1 ridiculously public break-up with he-who-shall-not-be-named. 

Having it all really means having too much to think about, and too much to deal with. You would’ve preferred to just go to university like all your friends. Be young. Make mistakes. But those were luxuries you took for granted, and now you’re paying the price. 

“Y/n?” Sasha, your manager called from outside. “We have the meet and greet.”

And then there was your fans. They were great, obviously, but they were also very hyper teenagers and young adults that paid a lot of money to see you, and it made you feel even worse about not being 100%. At least you’d cut ticket prices down by 50% in meetings, meaning they were much cheaper than any other artist at the moment. At least you could do that for your fans. 

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your dress. 

“Do you need your makeup touched up?”

“Yes,” you answered, voice hoarse. “How many more shows?” 

“This was your 97th. You have 53 left.”

“Fuck!” You groaned. “Fuck this.”

“You have the British Gran Prix tomorrow, you have to make an appearance, alright? I’m sending Maria in to fix your makeup,” Sasha was trying to pity you, but she also had a job to do, which you understood. 

“Thanks Sash,” you sighed as Maria came in. 

“Hey babe,” she smiled softly, sympathy and pity shown in her eyes. 

“Hi,” you sniffled, wiping your last tear away. 

“Let’s get you fixed up, yeah?” She started unpacking her bag with all your makeup as you nodded, turning to face her. “You’re amazing. You were so pretty tonight.”

You somehow didn’t scoff in her face. “Thanks.”

“I know you don’t believe me,” she sighed. “I can’t even understand why. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You hiccupped, the tears threatening to pour again as you thought about him. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Stop thinking about him. You told yourself. He’s in the past.

But he wasn’t in the past, how could he be when he was always on your fucking feed with his new girlfriend. Allison and Lando, what a beautiful couple. More like a bunch of crap. They weren’t real, everyone knew it was just pr, especially considering that she was promoting her new racing movie. You had no idea why they even tried to keep up the charade. They didn’t even look good together. 

Alas, they were together, and you weren’t anymore. 

And you were going to be reminded of it every single second of the next day. 

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You pressed your entry card to the barrier and walked through as cameras flashed and you smiled one of your best fake smiles.

“Y/n!” Oscar smiled, walking up and hugging you. You knew everyone, and you started to feel embarrassed about everything. This was his workplace, and you had to be here to do press and sing a song you didn’t want to sing.

Bullshit.

“Hey Osc,” you smiled, hugging him back. 

“You look so wonderful today,” he smiled, taking your hand instead. He led you to the McLaren paddock as you two chatted about tour and races. You asked about Miami, and Oscar answered. “It was the best day of his life- his words!” 

“Meeting you was the best day of my life. That’ll never change.”

Oh. I guess it changed. 

“How's the tour? It looks amazing!” He cheered as you two entered the paddock. Mechanics and engineers greeting and hugging you as you went through and lied about how ‘amazing’ the tour is. 

“Y/n!” Zak cheered. “My favourite girl!”

He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and you hugged back. It felt good to be back, and to still have so many people still like you. “Hi Zak.”

“I missed you so much! Please tell me that awful Allison girl is gone and you and Lan are back? She’s driving me crazy,” he scoffed.

“No, I’m just here to do some press with Ferrari,” you chuckled. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come see my favourite CEO.”

He sighed but nodded, knowing that Lando had the board cut you off the ‘influencer list’ when you two broke up. “Well, once you know that you’re my favourite.”

“You’re my favourite too,” you smiled. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Lips are sealed,” he smiled and moved on, going about his various duties. For a moment you looked around the paddock you had known so well and felt your heart ache a little. You loved Lando, you still loved Lando. You loved McLaren, and you loved the people here, yet you didn’t get to see them anymore because of the stupid fucking tour. This tour was ruining your life. You didn’t talk to family, or friends, you and Lando had broken up, you weren’t eating or sleeping, you always felt sick, you were rarely allowed to speak during the day so you could ‘conserve’ your voice for shows. 

But the worst part was that nobody noticed. 

“He's right y’know,” Oscar  smiled. “We all miss you. Even Lando.”

“Lando is with Allison. He has no reason to miss me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “All they do is fight.”

“So? That’s what Lando and I did for weeks.”

“But it was different. You two were in a bad situation, but you loved each other, so the fights meant something. Allison and Lan are just wrong for each other, they’re fighting to fight.”

You groaned, sitting on the bench and resting your head in your hands. “When did you become a philosopher?”

Oscar laughed, and placed a hand on your back. “I’ve always been this philosophical, you were just too busy to notice.” 

“Shut up,” you chuckled, pushing him off. 

“All I’m saying is that you should talk to him, that’s all,” he shrugged, walking away from you and further into the paddock. 

“Y/n.”

Your head snapped up, so hard it hurt. There he was. Lando. For the first time in months. With Allison. And a dog.

Oh. 

“Hi,” you smiled, standing up. It was a puppy, a jack-russell terrier, the kind you’d always wanted. The kind like your childhood dog. Great, now they stole your dog breed. “Nice to see you.”

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said bluntly. “What are you doing here?”

“Press for Ferrari. Oscar just… brought me in to say hi to everyone. So, hi. And now I’ll take my leave,” you smiled, then started to try and walk off. But Allison clearly had other plans, since she stuck out her hand for a ‘handshake’ that conveniently stopped you from walking off. 

“Allison,” she smirked. “And this is Mila.”

You stared blankly at Lando for a moment. Seriously? He’d taken the dog breed and what you’d agreed to be the name of your first child? Give me a break. 

“Y/n,” you shook her hand. “And I have to go, bye and good luck today.”

Thank god Ferrari was on the other side of the fucking track. 

“Y/n!” Charles cheered, hugging you close. You’d been getting closer with Charles since your split with Lando and his split with his ex had happened within a week of each other. “How are you?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, tired.”

“I have been seeing the tour, it looks great!” he smiled, pulling back. 

“Thanks Charles, it was amazing to see you, but I better go. I have to-”

“Sing the new song? Yes! I can't wait,” he cheered. You mustered up a small smile, and left him alone. 

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Sasha came and found you in the bathroom an hour later. “Y/n?” She was frantic, and stressed, so you just decided to give up and show yourself. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s time, come on,” she sighed. “I know this is hard-”

“How could you know it’s fucking hard? My entire life is in shambles and I’m supposed to be happy about it because I’m a ‘superstar’ what the fuck does that even mean? My boyfriend broke up with me because of this tour, and I thought I was going to marry him. Isn’t that insane? Isn’t that fucking crazy? And the worst part is, that I can’t even stop if I want to. I’m not allowed to stop. Sasha, how could you ever understand how hard this is for me? I’m 22. I should be in college, having fun. But instead I’m about to sing a song I don’t like or care about, in my ex-boyfriends workplace. Does that sound like fun to you, Sasha?” 

Her face was blank, stoic, unmoving. “Let’s go, you have soundcheck.”

You just followed her. Sasha was good at that, good at making you feel small, making you feel like a nuisance. The stage was big, bigger than most of your stadiums, but you didn’t care. You just had to get through it. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Feel sick,” you replied. “No thanks.”

Sasha sighed. “You’re going to faint one day.”

“Let’s hope I never wake up,” you replied dryly. Sasha scoffed and walked on, showing you the layout of the stage. You followed and asked questions, getting into ‘work mode’, and warming up your voice as you went along. A small crowd of the driver’s was gathering, even Lando was standing there, front row, just like he used to. 

You wanted to punch him, in all honesty. How could someone do that? He had no fucking right to stand there and watch you sing. He should be with Allison. 

“Start when you’re ready,” Sasha called and you nodded. 

The music started, and you were off. When the music started, you became someone else. You were moving around, laughing with your band, smiling. It was nice. Even if you hated the tour, you felt free on stage. Even if the song was sad. 

‘Champagne problems’, you’d written it right after your break up with Lando, it was new, and it had just been released. It had become the top of the charts in 15 countries. It would be on your next album, 

‘What if it doesn’t get easier like everybody says?’, and it was your most raw album. It was clearly all about your break up with Lando, there was no denying that. 

The song ended and the entire track clapped. You stopped moving when you spotted Lando’s parents, and you realised very quickly that you had to get out of there. 

You ran to the Ferrari hospitality, did some promos for your next album with them, and suddenly it was time to sing for real. The stands were full, the microphone was on, and the spotlight was on you. 

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheering. “How are we feeling today?”

You had worn a short red dress, for Ferrari, and it was sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. Everyone could see how beautiful you looked. Your hair perfectly styled, your makeup flawless, your beautiful face. 

Lando was entranced. 

You started singing and you sounded like an angel, truely. Lando had always thought you sounded otherworldly. He knew it was about him. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he missed you. He knew it was too late, and that was the worst part. 

“Thank you so much for coming out and listening to my dumb sad song,” you chuckled as the crowd cheered. “But I have something else for you,” you were cut off by excited fans. I have something just a little bit happier, it’s called ‘Lover’. Please enjoy!”

Lando watched you as you danced around the stage, and he felt something dark growing in his stomach. You weren’t talking about him. It was someone new. You were seeing someone new. 

You couldn’t be seeing someone new, you’d been in a new city every few days. You couldn’t make it work with him, you were never on your phone, so it couldn’t be online. How did this happen?

You finished your song, and you left the stage. You fell into a chair and passed out. Maybe not eating was a bad idea? Probably. 

“Y/n,” Sasha shook you awake. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“I feel like shit-”

“We all do. Let’s go.”

And you followed. Because you had to. What else were you supposed to do but follow? Was this your life now? Taking orders and following them. 

“Now, you have to be nice to everyone, even Lando and Allison, alright?” she turned to you, stopping in front of the door. 

“I really don’t feel well,” you tried to protest. “Can I grab something to eat first?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be 15 minutes, you’ll survive,” she sighed, opened the door, and pushed you into the room.

The drivers and their partners all cheered, happy to see you back in the paddock. 

“Y/n! I missed you so much!” Carmen immediately pulled you into a hug.

“I missed you too,” you smiled, even if it was forced. You needed to sit down, you needed a drink, and you needed to be alone. 

“Some pretty amazing songs!” George cheered, patting you on the back. 

“Thanks George,” you smiled. Soon you were all sitting on the various couches and chatting, even if you didn’t speak. Lando’s eyes were glued to his hands as Allison’s eyes were glued to you. She was practically sitting on him, on the verge of straddling him if you looked in their direction again. She didn’t know it, but you were looking at the door behind them, wondering when you’d be called. It had surpassed the 15 minute mark, and you felt yourself getting more and more faint as time went on. 

“Y/n?” Allison cut across Daniel chatting to you about your latest show in Manchester, remembering a story of the two of you when you were there, and telling it to the group. “How’s the tour going?”

You cleared your throat. “Well, thanks,” you smiled shyly. 

“So the rumours that you haven’t been performing to your full capabilities aren't true? Like I’ve heard you’ve been lip syncing,” she smirked as the rest of the drivers and wags just looked at her with disgust. Oscar rolled his eyes. He’d been sick of her for weeks, and he was usually quite good with people he didn’t like, but he hated her. So did Lily. 

You gulped. “I don’t lip sync, but obviously 97 shows in 113 days is quite a lot for my voice, so I don’t always sing my super vocally- challenging songs every night or else I’d have to go on vocal rest all the time,” you explained, feeling the change in energy in the room. 

“And that would just be horrible, right guys?” She turned to Lando with a smirk on her face, but he was just looking down, embarrassed by her. “I’m a huge fan of your music, how much of it is about Lando?-”

“What the fuck?” George stood up with Carmen by his side. “Allison, what is your problem with her?”

“It’s just a question!” Allison defended as Lando got up and left. She looked a lot less imposing with Lando gone. “He’s my boyfriend now!”

“Yeah, we wish he wasn’t,” Lewis said under his breath.

“Guys, it’s fine,” you just wanted to leave. “Some of my songs are, because I like to put my feelings into music, right? But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself. Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well.”

With that, you got up and left. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if Sasha screamed at you, you didn’t care if they all came running after you. 

It was done. You and Lando were over. Was it your choice? No. Was it a choice you had to deal with? Yes. His choice. Yet, everyone had looked to you for answers. ‘What happened?’ ‘Was it going downhill?’ or your personal favourite; ‘Did he get bored?’.

You didn’t know. All you knew was that one moment, you were with him, and the next you weren’t. 

You ran to your dressing room and lay down, eating some random snacks you found. You felt better after eating, you felt-

Knock knock. 

“Come in!” You called, not caring much about who it was.

“Hi,” Lando’s voice was small and quiet. 

You sat up, staring at him. 

“Beautiful songs,” he smiled softly. “Missed hearing you sing.”

You nodded. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks,” he sighed. “I'm sorry about Allison, she’s the fucking worst.” 

You chuckled softly. “I’m sorry you’re dating her.”

He cracked a soft smile, then it fell. “Who’s the new lucky guy for you?” He watched as your face fell. 

“No… no new guy, just an old one I wrote back at the start of… us…” you trailed off. 

His heart was shattering, watching you be treated like this. Watching from afar as you lost your mind, lost your life, over a fucking tour. He saw the soulless look in your eyes, the dropped weight, the dampened smiles, all of it. He was shocked that other people couldn’t see it too. He’d regretted breaking up with you since the moment he did it. He was haunted by the way you begged him to stay, and he questioned how he’d ever said no to you. How was he so blind-sighted? How did he not see how much pressure you were under? How did he not see that he was what was keeping you above ground? 

“Oh,” he breathed out. 

You took a deep breath. “I’m releasing an album soon, and a lot of the songs are about our relationship,” you explained hesitantly. “I wanted to offer you a chance to listen to it before it goes out, just as a… heads-up? In case you’re worried about what’s on it.”

God, punching him square in the face would hurt less than watching you feel awkward around him. He cleared his throat. “Oh umm…yeah. I’d like that. Thank you.”

You nodded and got up, taking a cd out of your backpack. “Here you go. Sorry again, about… everything.” 

“I’m sorry too,” he nodded. “So, are you leaving now or…?”

“No, I’m holding the chequered flag today, so I’ll be up at race control,” you explained, trying to look anywhere other than him. “And I’m handing off the 1st place trophy.”

“Maybe I’ll be first to see you,” he chuckled. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. 

“The tour looks… awful. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he spoke after a minute’s silence. 

You just shrugged. “Not your fault,” you lied. 

He knew this was when he was meant to leave, but he wasn’t sure when you two would be in the same room again. He didn’t know when he’d see you again, so he took a moment to fully take you in. “You were really incredible today. You sounded like an-”

“Angel? Thanks Lando, see you soon,” you nodded, finishing the compliment you always used to get from him. He nodded and left, realising he had no more time. 

When the door closed you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. How could he do that? How could he stand there and be nice to you, after what he said that night? After what he fucking put you through?

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Weeks of complaining from him, blaming you for his performance in races, telling you that you needed to be there for him, not calling you back, not texting back, not listening when you told him about how awful everything was going. 

“I’m sorry Lan, I know how hard this is. It’s hard for me too-”

“How the fuck can you say that? You’re the one who choose to do this, you fucking decided to tear us apart! This is all your fault, and you’re telling me it’s ‘hard’ for you. What is hard for you? Spending all your time with adoring fans? Being on stage and living your dreams? Being away from me?”

“Lan, you know better than anyone that I didn’t want this tour to happen,” you cried. Even then, even 48 shows in, you were being driven crazy. You were exhausted, you missed home, and you missed Lando. “I had no choice-”

“You had every fucking choice! And don’t give me that fucking bullshit about your label forcing you, we both know that’s a fucking lie!” he shouted. You hated it when he shouted, when anyone shouted. He had no fucking right to speak to you like that. You didn’t want this to happen, you had no say, you just had a contract and an incompetent lawyer to thank.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you shrugged, your voice breaking. “I love you, and I miss you. We can make this work Lan, I just need time to figure it out, alright? I just need time-”

“Yeah? Well I’ve given you all the time I have to give. We’re done, I bet I could find a million girls just like you, girls who would actually take my feelings into account before she made huge life decisions!” he scoffed.

“Lando, please don’t do this. I-I don’t know what- I- Lan please, I need you,” you pleaded. “I’m trying my best I swear-”

“Your best isn’t good enough.”

And he hung up.

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The fallout of your relationship didn’t exactly go great either. A day later your feed was flooded with pictures of Lando out with someone else. One day later. 

What the fuck? Didn’t he care? Didn’t he love you?

Well, apparently not. 

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Lando knew he wouldn’t see you again for months. This was his only fucking chance to speak to you, to see you, and instead, he stayed in his driver’s room listening to the heart-wrentching songs you’d written about him. God, if he thought ‘champagne problems’ was devastating, ‘cowboy like me’ was worse. It was a long album, almost 2 hours long. It spanned your entire relationship, starting out, your first date, your grammy win, his podiums, the hate you two got, the start of the fighting, the end of the relationship, and the after. It was awful reliving it from your perspective, especially since you had tried to tell him, and every time he’d pick a fight. 

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice came from outside his door. “Allison’s looking for you.”

“Tell her to piss off!”

“You can do that, mate,” he scoffed and walked off, into his own driver’s room. 

“Lan?” Her voice rang out, and he wanted to scream. He had put himself in this position, he knew it,  but it was still difficult to fully self-actualise his own shortcomings. 

“What?” he groaned, opening the door. 

“The other girls are excluding me,” she pouted. 

“I wonder why,” Lando rolled his eyes. “They love Y/n.”

Her face fell into a frown. “But you love me, so they should love me. They keep going off to find her and talk to her, and any time I try to tell them that I’m uncomfortable around her, they tell me not to come.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he sighed. 

“Talk to their boyfriends, ask them to include me!”

“Babe, I have a fucking race today, please leave me alone,” he sighed. He pushed past her to walk to the paddock, knowing he just had to keep his head down and race today, he just had to do the one thing he was good at. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?” 

“I don’t know,” he grunted, and moved on. The garage was somehow too loud yet not loud enough to drown out the negative thoughts in his head. Recent months had been difficult. Races were taking more and more out of him, he was lonely, and if he wasn’t training or racing, he was looking at old photos of you or watching the tour. He could see how you deflated as you left the stage, how upset you looked going on stage. It was all a terrible reminder of how selfish he’d been. How hadn’t he seen it? Why didn’t he listen? 

He remembered telling Max what had happened. He’d gotten so angry, begging him to call you back and apologise. He’d been so blindsighted, he wouldn’t listen to Max. Why was Max always right?

“You good?” Oscar asked, a hand on his shoulder to drag him out of his thousand-yard stare. 

Lando sighed. “Good,” he lied, and it wasn’t convincing. Everyone knew what you were to him. You grounded him, you knew him, every single part of him. You loved him. “You?”

“Good. Y/n’s set was great earlier,” he offered a small smile. “At least you have a good break-up album, right?”

Lando cracked a small smile. Oscar was good at that, making him laugh when he was down. “Yeah, it feels great when it’s about you.”

Oscar chuckled. “Story for the grandkids,” he shrugged. “Don’t sweat it.”

Lando nodded. 

“Oh yeah,” Oscar added. “When you left, Allison asked Y/n what songs were about you, so just… expect that conversation with her, I guess? I’m not entirely sure what’ll happen-”

“What did Y/n say?”

Oscar swallowed. “Something like; ‘some of my songs are, ‘cause I like to put my emotions into music. But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself’.”

Lando nodded, and could tell by the look on Oscar’s face that he was holding something back. “That’s it?”

“‘Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well’,” Oscar finished. “Then she left.”

Lando nodded as the weight on his chest got heavier. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course,” Oscar offered a pity-smile and walked off to his side of the garage. 

Lando was always a person to be stuck inside his own head. He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. He didn’t know how to talk about them. Yet, you always knew how to get him to talk. You always had the right solution, the right thing to say, the right face to make. He was in awe of you, so effortlessly perfect. 

He remembered back to Greece, back in the off-season, before the tour, before the season started. Before he fucked everything up. 

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You smiled as he pulled you closer. The air was anything but cold, and the water was still. There you two sat, sitting on the bow of the as the sun set. The clear water beneath the yacht you’d been on for the past few days was calm and steady, lulling you both into an unmistakable tiredness. Yte, Lando wanted to stay up, wanting to soak up as much time with you as he could. He was going to miss you so much this season. You hadn’t ever been to every race in a season, you were a busy person, he understood that. He was a busy person too. But you’d go to as many races as possible. Now, ‘as many races as possible’ means about 4. Stupid tour. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your eyes closed as you soaked in the moment. You leant against his chest as you lay in his arms, your favourite place to be. 

“How much I’ll miss you this year,” he admitted. There was never any point in lying to you, you always knew. 

You pressed a kiss to his arm. “I’ll miss you too.”

You were straight forward with things, he loved that. It was a bad situation. You were off to a tour you didn’t want to do, and he was off to another season. 

“I love you,” he confessed. He said it a lot, but it always felt special. He made you feel special. You made him feel special.

“I love you,” you opened your eyes, a smile on your lips. You spoke again after a few moments of silence. “You’re going to win a race this season, I can tell.”

He chuckled. “Once I get back home to you, I don’t care if I win.”

You laughed. “Sure, we all believe you.”

He smiled. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You looked at him for a moment, that perfect, soft smile on your face. “Ditto,” you laughed as he did too. Your laugh was melodic, his favourite sound. 

“Who says ‘ditto’ to that?!” he laughed.

“I do,” you chuckled. 

You two locked eyes for a moment, then he leant down and pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet. 

The perfect night. 

----------------

He caught a glance of your red dress walking into the garage. 

“Y/n!” The engineers cheered. He heard your laughter. 

The room was a collection of cheers and conversation, and he wanted more than anything to be able to walk over to you and hold you, and kiss you, and tell everyone to leave you alone because you were his girlfriend, not theirs. 

You walked in with a smile on your face. That smile dropped in half a second. Everyone was talking, everyone was patting you on the back, everyone was looking at you. You caught a glance of Lando and immediately felt the pit in your stomach grow. Everyone knew everything, everyone looked at you. Everyone blamed you. Oscar wrapped his arm around you and walked you through the garage as he saw you getting overwhelmed. He’d learnt the signs from his little sisters. Blown out pupils, teary eyes, tight features, heavy breathing. Oscar had always been a great friend to you, he’d always cared for you. He brought you through, doing most of the talking if anyone stopped you two and let you in his driver’s room, promising to grab you when you could leave without being bombarded by crew, or the press. 

Lando followed behind after a few minutes, then knocked on the door. He knew how to calm you down, he was probably the only person who did. 

Oscar opened the door looking panicked. “She’s having a panic attack,” he whispered. 

Lando nodded and walked in, taking your hand in his as you hid your face in your other hand. He knelt beside you on the floor as you sat on the bed. “It’s me baby, I’m right here. Come on, squeeze my hand,” he said, voice steady. You didn’t. “You need to start breathing properly, squeeze my hand like I’m squeezing yours,” He put some light pressure on your hand, which jump-started you into squeezing his hand as hard as you could. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. You hated how well he knew you. You wanted him to not know you, to not understand you and your body better than you did. “Just like that,” he cooed. He pressed your hand to his chest, where you could feel his steady and calm breathing, feel his regular heartbeat. It was in stark contrast to you. The thump of your own heartbeat in your ears, the quick breathing, the erratic heart. “Breathe with me. Please baby,” his voice was soft and comforting. You tried, gently slowing your breathing down to normal. The adrenaline was still rushing through your body as you calmed down. Oscar offered you a water bottle and you let go of Lando’s hand to take it. 

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry,” you said, sounding smaller than ever. “Zak said he wanted to see me after my set. I should’ve just said no.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Oscar placed a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously.”

“We want you here,” Lando added. The air was sucked from the room. “I want you here.”

“You don’t,” you refuted. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Lando sighed. “Let me walk you back to Ferrari, please?”

You shook your head, finally looking up and making eye contact with him. “You and I both know how that’ll go.”

Lando nodded, his heart breaking for the thousandth time. It’s hard to find an end to something you never want to let go of. “Ok,” he whispered, his emotions getting the better of him. 

“Goodbye Lando,” you sighed, then took Oscar’s arm and let him lead you back to Ferrari. 

----------------

“I’m sorry about Lando,” Oscar sighed as you two walked up to the entrance to Ferrari. “About the break up, now, and basically everything in between. He’s been… difficult recently. He’s always been a ‘glass half empty’ kind of guy I guess… I just… you made him better, y’know?”

You chuckled sadly. “Thank you for apologising, but you don’t have to. Lando is an adult, so am I. Things just… end sometimes. Him and I just aren’t meant to be.”

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Oscar had never been this straightforward with you, and he sure as hell had never broached this topic before. You just nodded and took his hand. “Thanks for helping me.”

And then you walked back to Ferrari. 

Oscar did get one thing right, Lando wasn’t done with you. Maybe it was seeing you again, maybe it was the album, maybe it was Allison, maybe it was all of it, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was still in love with you. He’d never stopped. How could he? He missed everything about you, your lips, your smile, your kindness, the way you’d make him laugh, the way you’d make him smile. Everything. He missed listening to you sing, seeing you on a stage that you wanted to be on. Seeing you get to be you. 

----------------

The Silverstone after-party with Charles who dragged you along. You’d thought it would be a bad idea, but when you were already 8 shots deep, you didn’t really notice. Yuki had pulled you away to sing a karaoke duet with him as Pierre and Charles laughed at you both, and you somehow ended up outside on the balcony with Carlos, both of you laughing at something random. 

“Y/n!” Lando cheered, clearly as drunk as you. A part of you had forgotten about everything before this moment, like you were seeing him for the first time. Perfect, with his curls, unbuttoned shirt, and damn pretty smile. “I didn’t know you were here!” 

“Lan!” you cheered, pulling him in for a hug. Carlos gave you both a very confused look, but was called away by Charles for a game of beer pong. Surprisingly, these ‘fancy’ parties usually just turned into something out of a frat house in Florida. Maybe it was just Logan’s presence. “How are you?” You slurred. 

“I feel great!” he shouted. “We should go for a walk!” 

“Yes!” you agreed. 

----------------

And that’s how you ended up back in his hotel room making out with him on his bed as he pulled your dress off. Funny how things can happen when you’re actually 18 shots deep, not 8. Oops?

“So pretty,” he murmured into your neck as he settled you on his lap. “So pretty for me.”

You laughed into his mouth, pulling back. “Lan, speed up.”

He smirked at you, his eyes heavy, then pressed his lips to yours again. He fully pulled your dress off of you as you started making quick work of his belt and trousers. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and he let out a low moan. “Please Lan.”

He didn’t waste time. 

----------------

You woke up the next morning with a blinding headache, and a very naked Lando Norris beside you. You had to leave. You’d just fucked him, and he had a girlfriend. You were a homewrecker. You didn’t know if the sudden urge to vomit came up because of that, or the 18 shots of straight vodka you did the night before. 

You quickly grabbed your clothes, shoes, one of his hoodies, and tried to salvage whatever dignity you had left, then made a swift exit. It was still dark out and you were just praying that you could get through the 2 blocks you had to walk to your hotel without running into someone, or running into cameras. You quickly dialled Sasha’s number and tried to stop yourself from crying. You just pray you two used protection, or fell asleep before doing anything real.

“Morning?” she answered groggily. 

“Sasha I did something really fucking stupid,” you admitted, the tears welling up in your eyes as you walked into the lobby of your hotel. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Come to my room, we’ll sort it out,” she sighed. “You’ll be ok kiddo, I promise.”

----------------

You knocked on her hotel room door, tears in your eyes. 

“It’s 5 am,” she stated, opening the door. 

You rushed in, bursting into tears. “I think I fucked Lando, I mean- I-I think we fucked, last night- we were so drunk a-and then I don’t re-remember,” you hiccuped. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

She put a hand on your shoulder, sighing. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she nodded. “But it’s not the end of the world. Did you use protection?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go get Plan B, you stay here. Get changed into some pyjamas. Get some water, relax. Just don’t leave the hotel, yeah?”

“Alright,” you agreed. She left for the door. “Sash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. She offered you a pitying smile, and went on her way. 

----------------

Months passed and you both went on with your lives. He didn’t reach out, you didn’t either. Sadly, you were in fact a homewrecker. A week after ‘the incident’ Allison and Lando broke up. You truthfully felt so ashamed and awful for the girl. It wasn’t right what you two had done, and truly, you were insanely drunk. In no world would you fuck Lando Norris sober. 

The tour had finally ended, and your world was no longer turned upside down. You were working on new music, healing your body after all the travel and abuse you put it through, and continuing to try and get over Lando. 

It hurt like a bitch. He hurt like a bitch. 

----------------

Lando two-wins. Contender in the Championship. Supposedly dating someone. Last Lap Lando.

Lonely Lando, more like. Max Fewtrell had decided to stage an intervention and join him for the rest of the races, worried about his mental state. Since seeing you again, he’d been… less than alright. He’d talk about you all the time, stalk your instagram (to the point that Max took his phone off of him in Greece), and generally just think about you a lot. It was coming up to the album drop, and you were having your launch party in Italy. The same weekend as the race. All because Charles wanted to come. 

Shit was bound to go down, and no one was more excited than Hallie. 

You were dressed to the nines, nervous and excited. You’d fired half of your team, you’d dropped your old label, and you’d become… happier? That couldn’t be right, not when you felt the oppressive weight of your own regret on your chest everyday. Not when you woke up reaching for Lando. Not when you watched every single race and couldn’t look away until he was safely across that damn finish line. 

You were surviving. That’s the best you could do. 

----------------

“You look beautiful,” Charles smiled as he walked into the party. The night had gone off without a hitch so far. A select group of fans, influencers, celebrities, and almost all the drivers were mingling with one another, and not one sighting of Lando Norris. Not that you didn’t miss his face, or him in general. You did. More than you’d ever thought possible to miss someone.  

“Thanks Charles,” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You look great too.”

He smiled and beside him, Alexandria smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You continued the superficial chatting for a few moments, just hoping Charles wouldn’t ask the dreaded question. 

He looked at you for a second too long, and you knew it was coming. “Are you alright?” God, why did he have to ask stupid fucking questions? Obviously you weren’t alright. Obviously, if you could, you would run away. Obviously, you were drowning. 

Didn’t he see that? Didn’t anyone notice? Didn’t anyone care?

Apparently not. 

You nodded, putting on your best fake smile. “Just nervous.”

He nodded. It was enough to fool him. 

The night went on in a flurry of uncomfortable small talk, ridiculous requests from your most esteemed guests, and it was finally time to start listening to the album. You stood on stage, a nervous smile on your face as everyone looked at David, your producer, who was speaking in length about how proud of the record he was, and how proud he was of you. Everything was perfect. Everything was right in the world. 

But, of course, because he had to always be the centre of your universe, Lando walked in. 

And you were fucked. Every single breathing technique you’d learnt, every single pressure point tapping you’d done, it all left your head. Everything stopped. You stopped breathing. You stopped. 

But it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel bad to have him there. It felt awfully, and soul-crushingly, right. Lando was always meant to be there, a devastating realisation that you didn’t exactly want to make while on stage in front of 200 people. 

“Any words, Y/n?” David asked, passing you the mic. 

You looked at Lando and he smiled, waving at you. You smiled back. 

“Please enjoy this album, it’s from a very important time of my life where I finally learnt what it meant to be in love, and be loved wholly in return. Obviously, it didn’t end very well, and that’s when I learnt what grieving someone was. I still have a lot of love for him, probably more than I should. But I have it. And I had nowhere to put it, so I put it to music, which is really the only thing I think I’ll ever truly understand. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you understand it,” You explained to the crowd. You watched Lando the entire time, looking at how his eyes lit up when you talked about your relationship. Lando had always cared about you. He always would. 

The opening cords of the first song started playing, and the attention was off of you. The crowd just closed their eyes and listened. You exited the stage and joined the crowd, desperately trying to get out of there. You stood on the balcony as the music blasted inside. People danced along, sang along as they started learning the words, and you stayed outside, tears falling. 

“You’re beautiful,” Lando’s whisper made you jump. You turned to see him, standing there behind you. “The album’s beautiful.”

You scoffed. “The album’s an album. What was beautiful was us,” you sighed. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded, leaning against the barrier beside you. “Do you even wish our lives weren’t as complicated as they are?”

You chuckled. “More than anything.”

“We were beautiful,” he shook his head, trying to remember why he ever ruined the best thing in his life. “If you ever find yourself wanting to love me again, just… call me?”

You nodded, looking at him. “I will.”

He nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting it sit there for a split-second, just to remind him of what it was like to touch you. Just to remind himself that once, he didn’t have to wonder if you loved him, to remind him of the unwavering support you gave him, to remind him of how his whole world came crashing down when he made you leave it. “I love you,” he whispered before walking to the door. 

His phone started ringing in his pocket as he got back inside. Unknown number. He answered it. 

“I think I want to love you again,” he could hear your smile through the phone and he immediately whipped around, his smile growing as he got closer to you. When he stood in front of you again, you both took the phones down and smiled at each other.

Lando didn’t waste time. He closed the gap between you two in one simple stride, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. “I love you so much,” he pulled back. “I’m never letting you go again.”

----------------

landonorris

1,488,928 likes | liked by oscarpiastri, y/ny/l/n, and others

love of my life. @ y/ny/l/n

comments

user28: WHAT THE FUCK THEY BROKE UP MONTHS AGO THO????-> user92: they were seen kissing at her launch party

y/ny/l/n: who's that pretty girl? -> oscarpiastri: she's too good for him -> landonorris: >:( -> oscarpiastri: hurt her again and I push you off the track. ->carlossainz: I second this -> charleslecerc: I third this -> alexalbon: I fourth this -> georgerussell: I fifth this.

georgerussell: Trying to beat me with no shirt?

lewishamilton: Yay! (I begged her not to take you back you asshole). -> pierregasly: Yay! (I'm trying to be supportive of her).

lilymhe: fuck off. ->user83: LMAO -> user18: DAMN EVERYONE HATES HIM

danielriccardo: HAHAHAHAHAH (I'm crying.)

----------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[kryannoy]

when you get upset with them

genre: fluff

characters: mikey, draken, chifuyu, kazutora, mitsuya

He was being a little too dependent on you and clingy when you didn't have the mood. He thought acting like that would work but you ended up pushing him off and slammed the door to your room.

He reflects on what he did and admits he was selfish. He buys you snacks you like and even shares his. Your door is locked so he would squeeze those snacks through the slit under your door. He even slides a cute letter in. The next morning, you see him sleeping on the floor in front of your door.

You got upset because he said something harsh to you. It just slipped out from his mouth and he didn't realize it was an insult to you until he notices your quiet behaviour.

He knows your interests and favourite things so he buys whatever merch you haven't had yet. Be it a k-pop album or posters, your favourite anime merchandise or whatever, that will cheer you up. He wouldn't even wrap it or put it in a gift bag, he straight up gave it to you like it's an everyday dorayaki and added his apology at the end.

He pulled a prank on you in-game where he made a new account and acted like a stalker. He chatted with you and typed your real name in the chat box. You questioned the "new player" about how he knows your real name while being creeped out. It got out of hand and when he revealed the truth, he now knows the prank was a mistake.

He secretly buys you that in-game purchase you want so the next time you login, there will be a surprise waiting for you in the inbox. He remembers you said that the new limited skin looks pretty and you really want it but you just didn't want to spend it. He didn't hesitate to purchase it, whatever to make you happy again.

You both had a miscommunication where he texted you to take you out next weekend but he typed out the wrong date. So, you're all dolled up for nothing and to make matters worse, you're being stood up by him. He made you seem like a fool.

He felt so horrible when he heard this. He bought almost everything you like and organized them on your bed. Plushies, snacks, new clothes, games, decorations for your room, collectibles, etc. Your bed was so full you almost don't have the heart to put them away because somehow it looks pretty. Of course, you took a picture and posted it online.

It's hard to be upset with this man because he knows better than to make you mad. But when you did, it was because he did it without realizing, or he thought you wouldn't get mad at him for patting another girl's head for doing a good job because you knew he loves you only.

He, rather than make an outfit, he buys you that clothing you really want. He thought of sewing you one but he thinks that's a cheaper way for you to forgive him. So instead, he bought it so you get the actual and official thing. However, you like it if he was the one who made it. It feels more special since you didn't care about brands that much. He even patted your head and promised he won't get too close with another girl.

[alpaca-clouds]

You Cannot Create A Solarpunk Future Under Capitalism

I am feeling like a broken record, but I just need to make this clear once more: No, Solarpunk in any form is not possible under capitalism. If you think it is, you either fail to understand Solarpunk, or you don't get what capitalism even means.

Technically I wrote about this already almost exactly a year ago. Let me reiterate it again, though: Solarpunk at its core is build around a couple of ideas. Those are:

Living in relative harmony with our environment, rather than destroying it. (Which includes using renewable energies.)

Decolonialism.

Social justice and the same rights, chances and possibilities for all people.

Neither of those three points is archievable under capitalism, as the end goals of capitalism are opposed to each of them.

Let me go through each of them.

Environmental Sustainability is not archievable under capitalism.

This is the point people tend to argue about the most. Because they will go: "But if the renewable energy sources are cheaper than fossil fuels, the capitalist will see more possibilities to make money with it." Well, do I have news for you: A variety of renewable sources, such as solar and wind power, are already a lot cheaper than fossil fuels and yet somehow the capitalist argue against using them. Care to explain that? No? Well, I'll do it for you. (Technically already did in that blog last year.)

See, when someone's net worth is listed somewhere, most of them actually do not have billions of dollars on their bank accounts. And no, they also do not swim in gold coins. Instead their net worth comes from calculating how much money they would be able to make if they sold all thier assets. A lot of those assets are shares in companies they have, as well as stuff like their fancy houses, fancy cars, fancy private jets and fancy yachts. Most billionaires have not more than a couple tens million dollars in liquid money, meaning money they can just spend. If they wanna buy something that is more expensive, they will usually go to a bank, say: "Look at all the stuff I have. I wanna buy myself more stuff. Gimme money?" And the bank will go: "Of course, Sir Billionaire, here you go. Have a nice 10 billion dollars."

And this is where the issue arrises: Most of the billionaires who are investing in the energy market, have already invested billions in fossil fuels. Be it by owning shares of fossil fuel companies, or by owning mines, oil rigs, power plants and the like. And this puts them into a silly little position: Even if they wanted to make more money through renewables, they cannot without harming themselves. Because in the moment that renewables become even more viable than they already are, fossil fuels lose their viabilities - and hence all the assets they hold in fossil fuels lose their value in an instant. The billionairs know that. The banks know it, too. Which is why banks do not want to give the fossil fuel billionaires money for that, even if they ask.

And that is only on the energy-generating side of it. If you go into the other stuff that harms our environment... Simply put: Public transport will never make as much money, as selling everyone their own car. And plastics are just so much cheaper than any alternatives. And the companies need fast fashion, because they won't make as much money, if folks only go buying new clothes every ten years.

Capitalism is build on the exploitation of the environment.

You cannot archieve decolonialization under capitalism.

Let's talk about the call to decolonize next. This is even easier explained: Capitalism is build on colonialism. And contrary to what you might have been told in school, colonialism has never ended. Most indigenous folks never got their ancestral land back - or have to fight to remain on it to this day. The most notable examples you know off might be indigenous people on their land (at times the land they originally had been forced onto after their ancestral land had been stolen from them) fighting pipelines that the capitalists want to put onto that land. That is colonialism.

In fact a lot of the raw material we use to power capitalism is produced on stolen land or is moved across stolen land to be financially viable. Be it oil springs, that can be found there. Or be it mines. That is both mines that produce coal, but also mines that are used to produce lithium and other materials used in batteries of electric cars. These raw materials should technically belong to the indigenous people from whose land those materials are sourced. And we do know for a fact that some of them will prefer to leave those materials in the ground. Maybe because of the harm to the environment that mining for them creates. Maybe because the land is sacred to them. Maybe because some of them just do not care about cheap electric cars.

It is more than that, of course. Because colonialism also allows for slave labor. And yes, I mean slave labor. Like classical slave labor where people are pressganged into laboring in those mines, or in other factories, where they are not paid at all - or are paid in breadcrums. The reason that the global south is so abhorently poor, even though most of the raw materials powering our world are found there, is, that the people in the global south are exploited, while the land is often owned by people from the global north, who either got it through colonialism - or by buying it from someone who got it through colonialism.

And once again: The profit motive of capitalism is directly opposed to decolonizing - and because of that it won't happen. Capitalism is built on colonial exploitation.

You cannot archive social justice under capitalism.

Capitalism as a system was invented for one reason and one reason alone: To allow former nobility, who were close to lose their power and influence in a Europe of anti-royal revolutions, to hold onto the power and influence and veil it underneath the idea of meritocracy. Basically saying: "Everyone gets what they deserve based on the work they got in." Obviosly they got the most, because they owned the land that everyone was working and living on. And then they did their best to brainwash everyone into believing this - at which they actually succeeded.

Here is the thing: Capitalism needs an underclass to exploit. Sure, a good chunk of that exploitation will happen in other countries, where the poor white middleclass folks do not need to see them toil, but some of that exploitation simply cannot be done in those other countries. At times because the work physically needs to happen in the western nations - stuff like road contruction, general contruction work, cleaning and such are an example of this. And at times because some things might be time critical, cannot be transported that far and stuff like that - like farm work in some cases, or also all the Amazon warehouse stuff. Oh, and all those fastfood jobs belong into this area. Stuff that is paid minimum wage and exploited to no end.

And then there is of course prison labor in the US, which once again is just slavery.

And all of that does not even go into the care and nursing work that is either underpaid by a ton when it is happening on the open market (like in hospitals, schools, kindergardens and other care facilities) - or is happening completely for free. Mosten done by women, who will care for both children, as well as elders and disabled family members for free.

The true endgoal of capitalism is to turn the labor of the lower classes into money and value for the upper class to hoard like bloody dragons. As such capitalism will never be compatible with any sort of equal rights and equal chances.

Those three aspects are truths that just cannot be changed. Capitalism will never be able to create any sort of justice, equal rights, or sustainability. It is not in the interest of capitalism to do so, either.

[ladykailitha]

Love is Kind

All of the stories I was reading today were sad Steve and it made me cry so I wrote happy Steve to make me feel better.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

***

Jeana looked down at the purple water lilies in Steve's hand in distaste.

"Water lilies?" she asked, frowning. "Not red roses?"

Steve looked at her in confusion. "Yeah, your favorite flower in your favorite color."

"Yeah," she agreed, reluctantly taking the flowers. "But red roses are more romantic for Valentine's Day."

Steve went from wilting in disappointment to her reaction, to standing up straight with a spine of steel. "Oh I get it now." He took bouquet back from her forcefully. "Yeah, we're done."

Jeana's eyes went wide. "You're breaking up with me on Valentine's Day over a bunch of flowers?"

"No, Jeana," he said coldly. "We're done because you didn't tell me you wanted red roses. I assumed that the cheaper more personal water lilies would be the perfect thing for Valentine's Day."

Jeana winced.

"Ohhh..." Steve said, "I get it now. You wanted the Harrington money." He rubbed his fingers together. "Despite the fact that I work at a book store. That I told you when we first started going out that I had been kicked out."

Jeana rolled her eyes. "You still wore nice clothes and had fancy hair products in your bathroom, like I was supposed to believe that obvious lie?"

"I save for those!" Steve hissed. "I can't use anything else for my hair, I've tried. And yeah, so sue me for buying something nice once in a while."

She peeked around him to see the table was set with romantic candles and another bouquet of water lilies. "You weren't even going to take me out to eat?"

Steve tossed the flowers on the counter behind him. "Why else would I have you come here instead of picking you up?"

Jeana threw her arms in the air. "I thought you were supposed to be this Romeo, this Casanova."

Steve's nostrils flared. "Out!"

She stomped her foot and crossed her arms. "I'm not going anywhere until we talk this through!"

"There is nothing to talk about," Steve said, spinning her around and pushing her toward the door. "You were expecting me to shell out a shit ton of money on you, money you thought I was hiding from you. It's clear you were never interested in me, only the money and prestige the Harrington name brought you."

He opened the door and shoved her through it. "Goodbye."

He slammed the door behind her and gripped his hair tightly. Not enough to pull but just enough to feel pain at pressure of his tugging.

Now he had dinner that was about to be ready in ten minutes, no girlfriend, and a dessert he had slaved over all day.

He needed to call someone to share this with. Robin was doing Valentine's with Vickie so she was out.

Then his eyes lit up. He knew exactly who to call.

He walked over to the phone and dialed.

"Hello, Munson's Funeral Parlor, you tag 'em, we bag 'em," the warm baritone came through the line.

"Eddie!" Steve said with a giggle.

"Stevie!" Eddie greeted back. "To what to I owe this pleasure?"

"How goes your anti-consumerism night in?" Steve asked, avoiding Eddie's question.

"Eh..." Eddie said. "Could be better. I'm watching violent movies to make myself feel less lonely."

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. "I have a warm lasagna, fresh breadsticks, and a nice bottle of wine and suddenly sans a girlfriend if you wanted to have some company."

"What happened with Jeana?" Eddie asked.

Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She didn't want me, she wanted the Harrington money, the King Steve charm, and a Casanova, not Steve Harrington who works at a queer little book shop in the middle of town."

"Well, fuck her," Eddie said. "Her loss. You bet I'll be there, sweetheart. Just give me time to put on my shoes and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Eds."

*

Steve opened the door a few minutes later to find that Eddie somehow had found sunflowers in the middle of fucking winter.

“Where are on earth did you find these, Eds?” Steve asked, breathing in the scent of his favorite flower.

Eddie tapped his nose knowingly. He spotted the water lilies in the vase on the table and dumped them in the trash. He replaced them with Steve’s sunflowers.

“There, that livens up the place better,” he said, turning to Steve, “don’cha think?”

Steve smiled back at him. “Yeah it really does.”

He went and made up their plates as Eddie opened the wine. He set them down on the table while Eddie filled their glasses. Steve trotted back to the kitchen and pulled out the breadsticks that were warming in the oven. He put them in a nice basket a covered them with a towel. He set them on the table between Eddie and him.

“This looks fantastic, Stevie,” Eddie murmured and dug into the lasagna. “Ooh. This is better than fantastic. This is divine.”

Steve hurried to take a sip of his wine to hide the flush of pleasure at the compliment that dusted his cheeks. And judging from the smirk on Eddie’s face, he hadn’t been successful at all.

“So what were you watching before I interrupted you?” he asked, blush still staining his cheeks.

“Chinatown.”

Steve grimaces. “That is pretty violent. A little depressing too.”

Eddie shrugged, stabbing another bite of lasagna. “Was kind of the point. Didn’t want anything happy or romantic today.”

Steve picked up his glass and held up to Eddie. “I’ll drink to that.”

Eddie laughed, but clinked their glasses together and drank when Steve did.

They polished off all of the breadsticks, all of the wine, and about half of the lasagna. Steve put the leftovers in the fridge.

“You want a soda or something?” he called from the door of the fridge.

“I’ll take a beer if you have one,” Eddie called back from the sofa.

Steve grabbed two beers and handed one of the cans to Eddie.

“I thought you preferred bottles, babe,” Eddie said, popping open the can.

“I do,” Steve muttered darkly. “They were Jeana’s.”

Eddie cackled. “Here’s to stealing your ex’s shitty beer!”

Steve laughed too. “Cheers!”

Eddie went over to Steve’s record player and put on some Metallica he’d left over here and then flopped back on the sofa next to Steve.

“Thanks for coming over,” Steve murmured over the screaming riffs of Master of Puppets. “Rob is over at Vickie’s tonight and didn’t want to ruin her Valentine’s day, too.”

Eddie smiled softly. “And since I refuse to participate in the rampant consumerism of the day, there would be nothing for you to ruin.”

Steve chuckled. “That and you’re my best friend. I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to spend it with.”

This time it was Eddie’s turn to blush and he shoved a lock of hair in front of his face to hide the redness of his cheeks. He pushed playfully at Steve’s shoulder. “Fuck off. I’m sure there are lots of people you could have called that would have come running.”

“Rob was first pick,” Steve said, “you were second. I mean it, Eds. I wanted to share everything I’d done for her with you instead.”

Eddie’s blush reached his ears and stained the column of his throat. “You keep that shit up and this boy is going to start thinking impure thoughts.”

Steve blinked for a moment before he laughed. It wasn’t a harsh or hurtful laugh. It was bright and cheerful. “You put out on the first date, Eds?”

Eddie who was starting to think he’d taken it a step too far, stared up at Steve in amazement. He got his wits back fast enough to quip, “Only if they’re pretty enough.”

Steve ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck trying to hide his embarrassment. Well maybe that was the wrong word. Charmed. He was fucking charmed.

“You think I’m pretty?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie raised Steve’s chin with his finger. “The prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, Stevie.”

Steve gulped. “And if I told you that I’ve had the biggest crush on you for so long?”

“Then I would ask why we aren’t dating, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, leaning in close.

Steve let out a shuddering sigh. “Because I didn’t think I was an option for you.”

Eddie half knelt on the sofa, cupping his face in his hands. “You are my number one option, honey. Just say the word and I’m yours.”

“Mine.”

Eddie grinned and then kissed Steve gently on the lips. He pulled back after a moment. “This isn’t just because you’re lonely on Valentine’s Day, right?”

Steve pulled Eddie onto his lap and brushed their noses together. “No, baby. She was only ever a placeholder for you. And a piss poor one at that. She never loved me for me. Not like you.”

Eddie chuckled. “And what makes you think I love you, pretty boy?”

“Because you knew I would be sad and brought me sunflowers.”

Eddie kissed Steve fiercely. “You are too clever for your own good, honey. Yes, that is exactly why I brought them. Because I didn’t want you to be sad. Because I wanted you to feel loved.”

“And I do,” Steve murmured. “I love you, too. So so much.”

“Good.”

They resumed kissing. It was darker. Deeper. More potent. Eddie could write songs and poems and books filled with the love he felt for this man and finding out that he felt the same.

All the bookstores and libraries in all the world couldn’t begin to fill the amount of pages Eddie would need to even try and convey how he felt in that moment.

But it could be summed up in one word.

Ecstasy.

Just pure ecstasy.

*

Robin wasn’t sure if it could be called a walk of shame when she had told Steve that she would be spending the night at Vickie’s, but walking into their shared apartment after the wild sex they had had last night she did feel a little silly.

She stopped short when she saw who was in her kitchen making breakfast in Steve’s track pants.

“Eddie?” she squeaked.

Eddie looked up at her with a grin. “Welcome home, Bucksters! If you haven’t eaten yet, pull up a chair and grab a stack of pancakes. I’ve made plenty.”

“You’re not Jeana,” Robin said stupidly.

“Nope.”

“Steve would never cheat,” she said, again trying to figure this out.

“Nope.”

“You two are a couple now?” Robin asked, her brain still in first gear.

“Yup!”

Just then a very sleep rumpled Steve came wandering out of his bedroom and latched on to Eddie. “I missed you.” He kissed Eddie’s neck.

Eddie kissed his temple. “Sorry, sweetness. I got hungry.”

“Mhmm..” he muttered. “Does smell good.”

“Morning, dingus.” Robin crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You want to tell what this is about?”

Steve looked over at her and gave her a dopey smile. “Jeana sucked. Only wanted the Harrington money and not me. Called Eddie over to make me less sad. He brought me sunflowers and made me very happy.”

Robin looked over at Eddie who half shrugged around a clingy Steve. “That’s the gist of it.”

“Got it,” she said. “I’m happy for you both.”

She grabbed a plate and pilled on the pancakes, with Steve releasing Eddie to do the same.

As the three of them sat down and ate Eddie’s pancakes, Steve smiled happily to himself.

He was with the two people he loved most in all the world and he wouldn’t change a thing.

***

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA? I tried to ruin a small business's reputation.

[20F] I went to a clothing store in which they sew the clothes themselves. There is a number of designs and colors you could choose from and if your size isn't available or you wanted to add your own spin on it, they can make one on request but it's basically 40% more expensive. And you're supposed to pay percentage of the price as a down payment in case they make the dress and you fail to pick it up.

Such businesses are common in my country and it was my first time going to this particular place. I'm plus size and tend to have the clothes tailored to my specific size because my size is rare.

Anyway, there was a very killer design that I loved for an outfit that was basically a skirt and a lab coat sorta look. I tried the available size but it was too tight on me so I asked them make one with my measurements and while I was at it, I chose the blue color which is my favorite. 💙 I clearly said blue and nodded when they grabbed the blue fabric. The outfit costs what would be about 120$ and I foolishly chose to pay around 80$ because I didn't have change on me and down payments are cash only, they don't accept credit cards. And by the way, that's a LOT of money in our currency but I thought nothing of it as I was never let down before by these businesses and I needed the outfit to be more comfortable at work.

Not sure what happened but when I came to pick it up, the outfit was gray. 👎 I said that wasn't what I ordered and the cashier gaslighted me into believing I chose gray and for a split second I started believing I somehow chose gray because the blue fabric was kinda pale, then I noticed the pale blue fabric right behind the gray one and pointed at it telling them it was my order and I stood my ground and insisted my order was blue. We kept arguing back and fourth and I told her to make another one. She refused because "the business will lose if they do that." I said that's not my problem and I want the blue outfit, they can put this one for sale to mitigate the loss. She refused because they will have to sell it for a cheaper price plus I was too fat and nobody will probably look for this specific size and once again said it wasn't my problem. She said it was criminal of me to deny "a perfectly great outfit" just based on its color and I told her blue was my favorite color and I refuse to leave without them agreeing to make a new order order, I certainly would have just left if I haven't paid that down payment.

Then she decided to pin the blame of her mistake (she was the one who took my order) on the expat tailor and tried to make him responsible for paying for the difference. I was unsure of what to do and I didn't want the poor overworked guy to pick the slack for someone else but at the same time I wanted the blue outfit. Seeing that I was firm she basically said she would give me a discount. I refused multiple times while she insisted.

Honestly I'm a socially anxious weak pushover that only very recently started learning and practicing to stand on my own that I was surprised I had stayed firm during this whole ordeal, but I was reaching a limit and the employee was clearly stronger than me. She wore me out and basically got me to accept the discount against my will. The discount was only about 15$ and I left very unsatisfied and upset. I complained go my sister who was with me when I made the order and she told me I was absolutely scammed and she wished she was there when I picked it up to stand up for me. I felt upset and taken advantage of, I was too disgusted by the outfit and I ended up only wearing it twice. I have no problem with gray by itself but this whole experience absolutely ruined it for me and I relapsed into feeling absolutely weak and useless like I used to be my whole life.

Apologies if I had done any AH move so far but if there was, I think I was justified but here's the AITA part of the story: in my frustration I opened their Google page to write a bad review but was shocked the page didn't even exist so I turned to their Anstagram page and I wrote several bad reviews and complains ON EVERY SINGLE POST THEY MADE. I wanted people to be aware of the problem. I also told everyone I knew. I say "tried" in the title because my attempt didn't even impact them, they didn't bother contacting me after I spammed their page with probably 40 negative comments and the business is still going strong.

AITA?

[pjsk-headcanons]

Funny headcanon to make people ignore the angst for a bit

Kanade, and Mafuyu while they live together, uses those 3 in 1 shampoos. Kanade says its cheaper and takes less time since her hair is so long, Mafuyu just says that it doesnt make much difference.

Mizuki and Ena are horrified when they find out bc it really DOESNT make much of a difference, Kanade's hair is pretty, Mafuyu's hair is still soft it just lost a bit of the shine it had with a normal care routine.

Cut to them in the sekai where Mizuki somehow got a hose working and the two transgressors (kanamafu) with light clothes while Ena brought a ton of hair care products so mizuena could wash their hair.

It included:

Kanade getting her hair cut because "really Kanade its too much weight for you and a miracle it doesnt look bad"

Ena gaying at everyone

Mafuyu shaking her head to dry like a dog

Miku joining in, which made the kids realize the vocaloids probably never washed their hair, theres no showers in the sekai

Mafuyu saying ".. are you expecting to do this every time we need to wash our hair?" And killing mizuena

-anon anon

.

[chronicbeans]

Human Illustrator Wally x Reader (part 8)

Julie owns a childcore fashion line. No, you cannot change my mind. Lol

TW: None that I am Aware of

🐻 A few days pass by. As you read a book to the children of the daycare, you hear the phone ring. You quickly pardon yourself, heading over to answer the phone. To your surprise, Mr. Darling has called, saying "Good morning! My friend, Ms. Joyful, has decided to visit town. She wants to meet you and myself at a nearby restaurant tomorrow. I wanted to know if you would be free at all tomorrow to actually visit?"

🐻 You don't know how to respond. First, you meet Mr. Darling and grow to become... friends? At least, you THINK you are friends. Either way, you believe you have a pleasant relationship with him. Now, THE Julie Joyful wants to meet you? You don't know how to respond! However, you are aware that tomorrow, you have a half day of work, leaving at 11. So, you should be open from 12 PM onward. It would give you time to get home, get ready, and have a small break before leaving again. "I am pretty free. 12 PM and after. Maybe we can meet for dinner?" "PERFECT! I-I mean... that is perfect! That was Ms. Joyful's plan, too! I'll pick you up, if you want?" "You don't have to!" "I want to." "Okay..."

🐻 You give him your address, before returning to the kids. Once the workday is over, you head home and begin trying to pick out your outfit. Oh, golly... You have no idea what would be appropriate for the outing! Ms. Joyful is a FASHION DESIGNER. What do you do?! You are sure that she is nice. She is Mr. Darling's friend, after all, so she must be at least tolerable... But what if you look horrible?!

🐻 You decide to just pick what you think would fit for any occasion: business casual. It has NEVER let you down. You set the outfit out, then go to bed. Once you get home from work the next day, you take a quick shower, put the outfit on, then try to relax until Mr. Darling shows up.

🐻 There is a knock on your door, to which you spring up and answer it. As expected, it is Mr. Darling. He grins, chirping "Good afternoon! Are you ready to go...?" He trails off, his cheeks Turing a bit red. After a few seconds, where he seems to space out, he blinks a bit before chuckling "You look amazing!" You chuckle nervously "Oh, thank you! I am ready to go!"

🐻 You see his car parked outside. It looks nice and cozy, as well as relatively cheaper than you expected. You hop into the passenger seat, chatting happily with Mr. Darling as he drives you to the restaurant. Outside of the building, you see a young woman standing next to her car, checking her hair in the side mirrors.

🐻 Mr. Darling parks the car next to hers, chirping "Hello, Ms. Joyful! I hope we aren't late!" "Wally, how many times have I told you to just call me Julie? Oh, is that (Y/N)?" She turns, her dark skin and dark eyes widening with intrigue. Her blonde hair is rather large, styled in two buns pushed together at the top, almost making it look like a heart. She also is wearing a headband with an orange horn on it, as well as a large, blue worm on a string as a sort of boa. Her clothes, itself, has a very childish aesthetic to it. From a large, pastel rainbow shirt, to a pair of jean shorts covered in patchwork polka dots with teddy bears in them.

🐻 'Darn it, business casual... You failed me.' you think to yourself. You somehow OVERDRESSED. Ms. Joyful, however, goes on to coo "They look adorable in their little outfit! Oh, come inside! I reserved a table for us in the back. That way, people won't swarm us." Mr. Darling laughs "Thank you, Ms- I mean, Julie. Come on, (Y/N), let's go to the table." You quietly nod, not exactly knowing what to say in this situation. Looking at the sign, you see the words "Poppy's Pop-In Diner" at the top.

🐻 You follow Mr. Darling and Ms. Julie to the table, which happens to be a booth. Looking down at the menus that the waitress provides you, you see that the majority of the menu consists of breakfast and baked deserts. There are a few lunch and dinner options, however. The drinks consist of coffee, lemonade, water, chocolate milk, hot chocolate, and a few types of soda. You make a mental note of your order, before turning to look at Ms. Joyful as she speaks.

🐻 "You will absolutely LOVE the owner of this place, as well as the dishes! Her name is Poppy Partridge, and she is just the BEST at her job! Her cakes are so delicious!" Mr. Darling laughs at her enthusiasm. "That's right, Julie. She is also just the sweetest person, too." Poppy...? That sounds familiar...

🐻 You notice how Mr. Darling decided to sit next to you, meaning that you are now trapped within the booth. He looks over to you, noticing your stare, before patting his cheeks slightly "Is... is there something on my face?" You stammer in response, feeling embarrassed for getting caught staring. "Oh, oh no! I just thought you would've sat next to Ms. Joyful, since you two seem to have known each other longer. It isn't anything wrong. I am fine with it." "Oh."

🐻 Oh golly... now you've made things awkward... why do you make everything awkward? Ms. Joyful, however, seems to be enjoying the show, as she laughs so hard you swear she would cough up a lung. "Oh my GOLLY! You two are such cute friends! You two should like... I don't know... Wait... nevermind, actually... I forgot where I was going with my words!" Mr. Darling tenses, before letting out a small chuckle. "Oh, I am sure you will remember soon... Hey, there she is! Hello Ms. Partridge!"

🐻 You look over to where Mr. Darling is looking, seeing a woman with an apron on, as well as a pretty shirt dress. She has a dark complexion, radiating a healthy glow, as her thick, curly hair has been gathered and clipped to the back of her head. It leaves a few strands poking upwards. Her eyes are wide, making her look like a deer in headlights. Then, she seemingly realizes who called her name, chirping with a voice as pretty as a birdsong "Oh, Mr. Darling! Ms. Joyful! It is so lovely to see you two, again! The last time I saw you was... Gosh, how long? When did we film that baking show, again?" "About six months ago, Ms. Partridge!"

🐻 This day keeps getting more and more shocking. First you meet Ms. Joyful, now the baking star, Ms. Partridge? Wait, not even that. You are in her diner! She walks over, her tall figure towering over the table. She seems to take note of that, as she hunches over slightly, possibly to make herself seem smaller. "Who are you, dear? Are you a new friend of these two? A friend of theirs is a friend of mine! My name is Ms. Partridge! Oh, you must know that already! Sorry!" You nervously reply to her question, holding your hand out and shaking hers. "I umm... I am (Y/N)." "Such a lovely name! It seems like your waitress has left you two hanging... Let me take your orders personally!"

🐻 You and the rest of your table order. As Ms. Partridge hurries to the kitchen, Ms. Joyful giggles "She is always in such a rush. Very anxious, too. So sweet, though! She acts very motherly towards everyone. OH! I remember what I was going to say!" She points to you and Mr. Darling, slyly saying "You two should like, have a sleepover, since you two are such good friends! OH MY GOSH! WE CAN HAVE A SLEEPOVER AT (Y/N)'S PLACE AHHHHH!!!!" She excitedly bangs her hands against the table, almost like it were a drum. Mr. Darling coughs, choking on his own spit. "C-calm down! We don't even know if (Y/N) is comfortable with having sleepovers in general. A home is a very... Delicate space for some people. Some don't like their homes being invaded. Privacy, you know?"

🐻 You look between them, feeling charmed by their antics. "I wouldn't mind, it is just that my place is pretty small. I have never held a sleepover-sleepover, before. Not even as a kid. Usually it was more like my friends would visit, then we slept. That was it." Ms. Joyful's eyes widen in horror "You have never had a REAL sleepover?! That is horrible! We must change that! When would you be available to have a sleepover, (Y/N)?" You are taken aback by her determination, before stammering "I don't know... Umm... This Saturday is free. I don't work weekends, luckily." "THEN IT IS SETTLED! WALLY, THE SLEEPOVER SHALL BE SATURDAY!" She raises her hands in the air, continuing "We shall have makeovers, fashion shows, baking, and more! Do you have any allergies, (Y/N)? I have hypoallergenic makeup and baking recipes! Actually, I'll just bring them in case! OH, CAN WE INVITE OUR OTHER FRIENDS?! PLEASE!!!"

🐻 This weekend is going to be long, isn't it? Well, at least you will get to meet these two again. Their chaotic antics are truly a sight to behold. You shrug, looking at the both of them. Mr. Darling seems especially curious as to your response. You nod slowly "Sure. Invite a friend each. I would allow more, but my place is a bit small."

[rainy-wallflower]

Small little post about my experiences with gender lately.

So, I am nonbinary with chest-related dysphoria. I have been almost exclusively wearing binders for a few years now, but very recently the dysphoria was getting worse. There's a certain point in binding where there is just too much to hide, and that is really frustrating. For the longest time I thought I looked weird and my dysphoria got worse because all of that had no where to go, so if anything my chest felt a little accentuated.

My binders are finally getting old and a little worn, and gc2b is pretty expensive for a college kid who can't spend a lot of money this summer, so I decided to consider bras again. I had an old one I tried first, and somehow it really helped, which threw me for a loop. This thing that I had been avoiding for years because it gave me gender dysphoria, was now fixing my gender dysphoria that was caused by the thing meant to lessen gender dysphoria. It was a weird couple of weeks.

However, I bit the bullet the other day and went bra shopping, so now I have some cheaper, up to date options, and goddamn. Threw one on this morning and felt pretty good. I am unsure if I'm happy or upset about that just yet. It's a weird step in my self love journey for sure, but I'd rather do something that makes me feel comfortable than what I think I should be doing as a nonbinary person.

Anyway, that's been me. Happy pride month! If you're binding, please bind safely. Remember kids, your clothing will never dictate who you are, only you can. Have a gay day, I love y'all

❤🧡💛💚💙💜

[aneurinallday]

Green Eyes

Chapter 6: Fruit

The next time the door opened, Thomas was greeted by a warm smile. Alec had been looking forward to seeing him.

“You’re late,” the young man chided him.

Thomas checked his gold pocket-watch.

“By barely a minute,” he said, “Are you that keen to see me?”

As Thomas stepped inside, Alec saw that he was holding a brown paper bag.

“What have you got there, Mister Shelby?”

“Fruit. Thought it might be rude to show up empty-handed.”

“That’s very kind.” Alec took the bag from Thomas’s arms and set it on the kitchen counter.

Clara was sitting on the small rug, babbling in delight, thoroughly engrossed in an old teddy bear. Thomas reached down and tweaked her cheek before taking his seat. From his chair, he glanced around the flat, noticing that it seemed a little brighter than the last time he’d visited. A bunch of wild flowers, probably picked from the overgrown canalside, had been placed in a glass of water on the windowsill.

“Are you hungry?” Alec asked, “I can make a sandwich. I’ve got bread and cheese.”

“No, thank you.”

“What about tea?”

Even though Thomas had shown no expectation of sex, Alec seemed to have prepared for the eventuality. He smelled of cheap perfume and cheaper soap. His clothes looked a little newer, and the bed was neat and fresh. The thought filled Thomas with a deep discomfort. This wasn’t the Arcadia, a separate dimension where he could lose himself in smoke and make-believe. This was Alec’s home.

“Just tea,” he said firmly. “Nothing else.”

Alec rustled through the paper bag, unpacking a bunch of bananas, a pineapple, and a net of oranges. Exotic luxuries for a Saltley boy.

“Mister Shelby, you really shouldn’t have. These are expensive.”

“You strike me as someone who likes expensive things.”

Alec felt the unfamiliar texture of the pineapple between his hands, feeling the sharp rind prickle his palms, and then sniffed its leaves.

“I’ve never had one of these,” he said, “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

Reaching the bottom of the bag, he hesitated before pulling out a small box.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Chocolates. Do you like the chocolates?”

“I’m not sure. I only ate one once, a long time ago. I remember liking it.”

“Why don’t you jog your memory?”

Alec opened the little box. To him, the variety inside must’ve seemed dazzling. Milk, dark, white, caramel, hazelnut, almond, berry, even the newly invented orange-chocolate. Some were naked and topped with sprinkles of nuts or ornate swirls, others wrapped in gold or silver foil. He was spoiled for choice.

“Oh, Mister Shelby…” He picked the plainest-looking one and tentatively took a bite. Delight spread across his face. “They’re delicious!” he said.

“They’re from Belgium.”

“I love them. Can I give you a kiss?”

“If you want to.”

Thomas expected a kiss on the mouth, but Alec leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek. It somehow felt sweeter. More genuine. Not the kiss of a lover, but the kiss of a wife.

Alec picked another chocolate at random, carefully unpeeled the delicate foil, and popped it in his mouth. Thomas watched as he munched innocently.

“Can Clara try one too?” Alec asked.

“No. She’s not old enough.”

“Then I’ll save the rest for later.”

Alec put the lid back on the box and set it aside. Then he fetched a spoon from the drawer and a small bowl from the cupboard, peeled a banana and began to mash it into mush.

“I was thinking,” said Thomas, “I know you said you don’t want my charity, but I’d still like to help you. If not for your sake, then for the little girl’s. If you’ll let me, I’ll find you a better place to live.”

“A proper house?” Alec asked. “With a bathroom and everything?”

“Yes. A proper house, somewhere nice. It doesn’t have to be in Birmingham - it could be London or Manchester or wherever you want. You could finally leave this life behind. Make a good home for yourself and her.”

After a pause, Thomas added:

“Or you could come and stay with me.”

The sound of the fork faltered. Alec was caught off-guard.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, “If I stayed with you…You would own me. I don’t want that. Mister Cobb owned me for a long time. It’s not a life I want to live again.”

“I’m not Cobb.”

“Still…You might change. People show one face when they want something, then a different face once they’ve got what they want.”

“That’s true of some, but not all.”

“Then perhaps you don’t know people like I do, Mister Shelby.”

“You’d be surprised at the things I know. I’ve met all sorts of creatures.”

“Did you ever meet one who had the power to take everything from you? And you had no brothers to protect you and no family to shelter you?”

Thomas said nothing. As he listened to the fork clinking against the chipped old bowl, he felt the lamp-lit dream of happiness slipping further and further away - and for a moment, he almost accepted his fate. He’d been a fool to even entertain it, let alone to suggest it. There were too many questions, too many obstacles, too many ways that he and Alec could fall apart. Was it even worth attempting?

He thought of Grace, and how she would feel about him bringing a strange whore into their lives. Into their home. Into their bed.

Then he felt a surge of resentment, and pushed away the thought of her. She was long gone - just bones in the ground. Just a painting on a wall. Just unworn jewellery gathering dust. So what did she have to worry about? Why should he care about the opinions of a dead woman? Why shouldn’t Thomas Shelby have everything he wanted?

Thomas rose to his feet, crossed the room to where Alec stood, and slid his arms around Alec from behind. He’d forgotten how good it felt to stand that close - to feel Alec’s curly hair tickling his cheek and breathe in his subtle scent.

“Come live with me,” he murmured, “I’ll take care of you. Of you and Clara. You won’t have to worry about her any more. She’ll have a painted nursery and all the toys and baubles she could ever want. And when she gets older, she’ll have a violin teacher and a white pony. And you…you’ll have a good night’s sleep every night.”

“And in return?”

“In return, nothing. I’ll never ask anything of you.”

“I’ve had offers like this before. They were all lies.”

“Do you think I’m a liar?”

“...No.”

“Then trust me. This is no place to raise a child, and you know it.”

“It’s better than the street.”

“She deserves more. You both do. Let me help you.”

Alec put down what he was doing, and placed his damp hands on Thomas’s arms, clasping them tightly.

“What about your son? Won’t he mind?” he asked.

“He doesn’t spend much time with me anyway. He prefers his nannies and his tutors. What do you say?”

Alec looked around at his flat, as if weighing the emotional cost of being in Thomas Shelby’s debt with the financial cost of being a Saltley whore.

“Can I think about it?” he asked quietly.

“Of course.”

Alec gave Thomas’s forearm a grateful squeeze. Behind them, Clara mewled.

“Let go, please. I need to feed her.”

Thomas released him and returned to his chair. With the bowl in one hand, Alec walked to where the baby lay, and sat cross-legged on the small rug. He scooped her up and cradled her on his lap. She babbled happily to see his face.

“My little love. My Clara,” he cooed to her. With the spoon, he began to feed her. “What do you think, my love? It tastes nice, doesn’t it? Mister Shelby bought it for us. He doesn’t look nice, but he is.”

For a while, Thomas simply sat and looked on as Alec fed the baby. Then he asked:

“Where’s the mother?”

“Gone.” Alec didn’t look up.

“Not coming back?”

“No. She was one of the girls at the Arcadia. Clara was…”

“An accident?”

“Yes. There was a client who…he…he liked to watch us together, and…”

“You don’t need to explain.”

“She wanted to keep it. When she started showing, we thought Mister Cobb would give her the sack. But he kept her around. Some clients like it when a woman is…well, you know.”

“Ah.”

“She had Clara in the back of the club, and then quit. Said she’d changed her mind and didn’t want anything to do with it. I’m not sure where she went.”

“And you’ve been raising Clara by yourself since then?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve done alright by her. She looks happy and healthy.”

A faint smile crossed Alec’s mouth.

“I wasn’t sure if she would live,” he whispered, “She was too small and she…she cried all the time. It’s why I stopped living at the club. I was afraid her crying would bother the customers, and Mister Cobb would take her away from me. One time, he got angry and wanted to get rid of her. He…”

Alec stopped, caught by the bad memory. He took a deep breath to recover himself.

“...I didn’t let him, though. I begged and begged until he got fed up and left her alone.”

“Well, you’re alright now, and so is she.”

“She’s perfect,” Alec corrected him. “She’s my perfect Clara. Aren’t you, Clara?”

He held her close and kissed her head lovingly. Behind Thomas’s calm blue eyes and placid face, there ached a sudden yearning. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held his son.

The two years which Grace had got to spend as a mother, the short period during which the three of them were happy together, had been the only true and untainted joy he’d ever felt. It was a joy he knew he would never feel again, but that knowledge didn’t stop him from wishing - hoping against hope that Charles would shake him awake one morning, eager to play, and that he would open his eyes to find Grace alive at his side. Even a logical mind could wish.

As he sat there and watched Alec dote on his daughter, he knew that Alec had forgotten about everything else - about rent, about Cobb, about being a whore living in a rundown room in Saltley, about how his dreams of being a singer were never going to come true. In that brief moment, all Alec was thinking about was how much he loved Clara, and how happy he was to hold her.

And in that moment, Thomas knew he would do anything to protect that happiness.

[gffa]

Hi! While you'll get some conflicting stuff in Legends (I think I remember a brief mention of it in The Approaching Storm which made me roll my eyes because it was Luminara thinking it and Luminara was wearing her own outfit with her own accessories already, in contrast you also have things like Obi-Wan’s river rock from Jedi Apprentice, which is a possession, so it was entirely dependent on which author you were reading) so it’s not totally coming out of nowhere, but it’s one of those things where it’s a random author from deep supplementary material because they just assume the Jedi can’t have possessions, but higher canon contradicts it. We see a handful of rooms in the Jedi Temple and they do tend to skew towards simple in decor (but you also have to consider that animation is HELLA expensive for something that’s only going to be used once, that’s why characters stay in the same clothes in animation so much of the time, because it costs a lot of money to design an outfit that can move around the way they need) but we can see Jedi possessions are not forbidden: - Anakin’s room is chock full of stuff:

Barriss has her prayer statue that’s unique to her:

Depa went all out in her room:

Yoda has candles in his room as well:

There’s a few quotes from Disney canon that says even Initiates have possessions:      “But this morning, [Qui-Gon had] had to pack his few possessions in a small bundle and leave the crèche where he’d lived as long as he could remember.“ [Master and Apprentice]     “So instead Obi-Wan trudged to his room. It was small and austere, but a shelf above his bed held a few treasures he had gathered. A rock from Ilum. A flower Siri had once tucked behind his ear as a joke. A shell Prie had given him that was probably from an unspeakably terrifying creature she adored. The spoon from their initiate days that Bolla had for some reason decided was his favorite, so they all made a game of stealing it. Obi-Wan had won, he supposed, since they were no longer younglings.”  [Padawan]     “Qui-Gon sat on the simple gray cushion he kept in place of more elaborate seating. He had never added furniture for hosting guests. Obi-Wan always felt like he was somehow intruding, like there really was no place for him in Qui-Gon’s life. He knew Siri’s master had a table for two in her living quarters where they took most meals together, and Prie’s had insisted on a Padawan room right next to his own so they could have easier access to each other when studying together.” [Padawan] (I don’t have the direct quote on hand, but in The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark, Katooni also has a poster of Ahsoka on her wall that she hung up.) Overall, I look at it this way, there are three things that are going into what we see with the Jedi: - Every single frame of animation costs money to make and TCW was not rich at the time it was made, so rooms are designed simply because it was cheaper - The Jedi have a touch of ascetism going on because they’re not super big into worldly possessions and they’re Buddhist monks - I think it works really well as a theme--most Jedi just don’t need stuff, they’re content as they are.  If they want some stuff, they’re perfectly fine to have it, not once does anyone give Anakin a bad time about all the stuff in his room, he openly displays it, it’s fine.  But as a theme, Anakin’s a character who clings onto things, who has trouble letting go, who wants to be surrounded by tangible things, rather than living in harmony with the transient nature of life. Jedi seem to naturally lean towards not having a lot of possessions, they just don’t seem to need them, but they are emphatically NOT forbidden from having them!  There’s nothing in canon that I’ve ever come across that says they’re frowned upon, either. It goes hand in hand with how Jedi are often seen wearing outfits from their birth cultures, like Shaak and Ahsoka with their headddresses, Luminara and Barriss with their head coverings and tattooss, things that are just theirs. So, you’ll see it come up in fic a lot and it’s not like it came out of nowhere, but primary canon does say, yeah, Jedi can have possessions, but they don’t really seem to want or need to have very many of them.

[movedto-clifflix]

•—☕️; janAUary - coffee shop au !!

ship: 🐸🖊️ ; clifflix

word count: around 800

author‘s note: haven’t written in a few months bear with .

It was a casual cool September day. The wind had been blowing harshly and the sky was filled with gray clouds, indicating an incoming rain. The little bell on top of the brown door of the coffeeshop rang and the ash-blonde barista looked up, spotting a tall, blonde man coming in. The barista put down the mug and the cloth with which he had been drying all the freshly washed mugs and plates.

“Welcome. How can I help you, Sir?” he spoke, his voice soft and friendly-sounding. The taller man looked at him, a small smile forming on his face. "Hi! Uh-..could I get a Hazelnut Macchiato and a blueberry muffin, please?” The man spoke, fidgeting with the end of his dark-blue suit’s sleeves before he added: “Do you need my name for the order too?”

The barista chuckled, shaking his head. “We’re no Starbucks. But if you really want it, I can add your name of course.” As he spoke, the ash-blonde prepared the coffee, and whilst it was brewing in the machine he put the muffin into a small, light-brown bag. “Right, my bad” the man apologized. “I only recently discovered your shop. It’s way closer to the company than any Starbucks.” he added.

“And better and cheaper.” the barista smirked for a second before he poured the coffee into a cup, adding the lid and placing both items onto the counter. “Thank you for your order and have a nice day!” he smiled.

“You too-…” the blonde man took a glance at the name tag. “..Cliff.”

Cliff smiled at the blue-eyed man before he watched him leaving the coffee shop. 

The weeks passed rather quickly and the blonde man, whose name turned out to be Felix, became a regular customer. He sometimes visited the shop even without buying something, just to speak to the younger barista, which was also the case today.

Felix sat at the counter, talking his mind off over various architecture projects he’s been working on as Cliff has been listening intently. It was rather quiet in the coffee shop, most customers only ordered to-go and the few regulars who always visited the shop were sitting a bit more in the back and the music could be heard faintly in the back. “...and I only have two months left to finish this project and-” Felix silenced as he looked at the mug of fresh-brewed coffee in front of him, before he looked up at Cliff. “I didn’t order nor pay for any coffee.”

“I know, but I made it for you. Your usual. Hazelnut Macchiato.” the green-eyed man smiled. “You don’t have to pay for it, it’s for free.” he added quickly. “Why thank you..” Felix sat up straight, still looking at Cliff. “That’s…very sweet of you.”

“Don’t mention it. You deserve it after what I’ve been hearing. You’re working a lot and hard, so you deserve some fresh coffee. Oh and a blueberry muffin.” he chuckled at the end, placing a plate with said muffin on it next to the mug.

The blonde shook his head. “You’re way too kind. I have to repay you somehow.” He thought for a second. “Hey, what about I take you out for dinner? Doesn’t have to be today of course, but maybe whenever you’re free? There’s this nice restaurant near my place and if not then we could just stay at my place and watch a movie and order take-out if you don’t like fancy restaurants or if you don’t want that either we could just go to the cin-” Felix rambled, his voice turning more and more nervous the more that he spoke. “Felix.”  Cliff interrupted, making the older one look back at him, a slight pink blush spreading on his cheeks. “I’d love to go out for dinner with you. Or do anything with you, really. Whatever it is, as long as it’s with you it’ll be fun, I’m sure.” Cliff didn’t even notice, but as he spoke he held Felix hand, as he’s usually gesturing around with his hands when he’s speaking. The blue-eyed man gazed at their hands, the blush darkening. Cliff followed his gaze, his eyes going wide and his hand quickly letting go of the other’s.

“Oh gods I’m so sorry-..!” he instantly apologized, but Felix instinctively took the younger one's hand again. "Don't. "It felt…nice."

They both smiled at each other shyly before Cliff’s name got called out by one of the regulars and he let go of Felix’ hand again. “Just give me a second!” he said to the blonde, rushing to the customer.

“Don’t make me wait too long.” Felix chuckled, leaning back in his seat as he watched the younger one writing down orders.

There were many emotions he felt at that time, but the one he felt the strongest was love. And he had a slight feeling Cliff felt the same. 

taglist: @alenveikko | @mahitoslittlebird | @satoruswaifu | @cassmeeks | @scissorleaf | @mutasmutos | @lumibye | @blorbosfrommyhead | @ratchs | @eternally-smitten | @sailing-selfships | @kylars-princess | @verykissablepixels | @duckys-donuts — lmk if you want to be added or fill out my tag form !! 🫶🏻

[cookie-crumblr]

Sugar

Part 1~

F!READER X PROFESSOR OC

His Info: 📔✨

part 1 2

!!MINORS DNI!!

CW: swearing… Surprisingly none? like reader is written for fem! but i don’t think i gendered anything in this part… next part will be F! tho.

!!MINORS DNI!!

“Okay class, sorry I’m late. I’d give you an excuse, but I really could care less.” The professor dropped his sunglasses lazily onto a stack of papers on his desk.

You feel a little disappointed…

He’s Hot. like insanely hot.

but his attitude for teaching your favorite subject just kind of turned you off a little…

Just a little…

You actually have to try and be more upset than you are, his looks are just too distracting.

Actually you’re now more upset that you’re not as upset as you think you should be.

Annnnnd now you realize you haven’t been listening.

Oh god…

Looking at his face makes it even harder to focus on what he’s saying…

What is he saying??

Oh come on Y/N!

Focus on his words!

His words.

His hair is so nice…

“Everyone’s turned to page 23 right? Good. At least you can all do that.” he makes direct eye contact with you briefly, a lazy eyebrow raises ever so slightly.

You shrink back in your seat feeling a little like a child who’s just been scolded.

After class you rush to the bathroom, having drank too much coffee during and before class. You already regretted it halfway through, but you’re stubborn and refused to excuse yourself. You pick your stall, the one furthest in, hoping somehow to avoid other people if they come in.

While sat there you notice some of the stall graffiti… Usually you’d pay it no mind, but something sticks out to you:

“anybody no Prof Reichsgraf’s #?”

under it is a phone number, and under that is a response of:

“don’t call this one it wasa prank :/”

At least you aren’t the only one thirsting over this guy, you think to yourself.

The last response reads:

“Soooo, nybody no his actual @ or #??”

Later that same day, dusk is rolling in over the dark clouds, and you make your way to the coffee shop you saw near your new place.

You aren’t staying in a dorm, you were offered a much cheaper place with a few elderly that you used to volunteer for.

They’re nice people, they even share the food off their table with you. You consider yourself luckier than most, if not everyone.

The quaint tinkle of a silver bell chimes as you enter the place.

Every aspect of it screams mom & pop shop. From the solid oak hand carved counter, to the cute custom red frilled aprons. all the dishes were different. every tea plate under every teacup mix-matched.

“Ah, of course Madame Le Fe,” You hear a very familiar yet deeper voice. Professor Reichsgraf… Is he trying to woo that table of clearly older, and clearly wealthy women? I mean… He’s definitely succeeding. You just didn’t pin him as a sugar baby type.

He double takes looking your way, before excusing himself from their table. The women don’t seem to notice you as the giggle to themselves, eyes glued to his back.

“What are you doing here?!” he hisses, hiding you behind him as he ushers you into the the restrooms’ hallway.

“Um… Getting a tea to go probably. C-can you not touch me?” You push him back, and he relents.

He drags a hand through his gorgeous hair, “You should be… I don’t know?! at a bar or asleep hungover or something! what are you doing here?!” he repeats.

“I already told you i’m getting a tea!” You raise your voice in frustration.

“Shhh! shhh! please! listen, one, maybe two of those milfs out there are definitely going to come back to my place today, don’t let them hear you!” His hissing voice scratching your ears uncomfortably.

“okay, sorry to intrude on your-your… Cougar hunt, Professor.” You straighten your clothes, “I’m just gonna get my tea and leave okay?”

“No.”

“No?” you mimic.

“No. You’re going to leave out this door right here and never ever come back to this tea parlor. I’ll give you extra credit. Which I do not offer. to anyone. Ever.”

“I don’t need extra credit. I have a perfect score. You should know.”

“Ridiculous. I have one perfect score this trimester and it certainly isn’t you.”

“you better start to learn your students names.”

He backs off completely at that, his eyes now the slightest bit wider.

“I’ll just get my tea and go. I’m not gonna bother you or those women. okay? i’m just another customer.”

Your professor straightens his tie, and clears his throat.

“Yes… Fine. That’s… Fine” He can no longer meet your eyes.

You don’t look back as you walk up to the counter and order.

You really aren’t in the mood anymore but you’re too stubborn to just leave like he wanted.

The next day as you walk closer to your previous class you had with professor Reichsgraf, you start to hear to voices. You had forgotten your journal.

“I’ll do anything you want, sir…” a woman is speaking lowly and seductively.

“You know what you have to do…” Your professor responds even lower, his voice sending shivers down your spine even from outside the door.

He snaps, his voice completely changed to that of an angered and disappointed father. “You have to turn in your god damn work on time!”

You hear her make a shrill noise back, before she storms out past you.

You try not to look his way as you hurry in the room to grab your journal from your seat.

“Y/N, looking for this?” he holds it up, his thumb inside the binding, not even trying to hide that he was reading it.

“Y-yessir! sorry I left in a hurry…” your eyes narrow and you rush over to grab it from him.

“Try not to forget such personal belongings in the future.” He continues reading it!

“Ex-excuse me sir! that’s kinda personal!” your voice raises a pitch.

Also, did he say your name earlier?

Nows not the time.

“I see that. It would have been a shame if it had gotten in the wrong hands…” the corners of his lips raise.

You scowl, thinking about who would the wrong hands be?? cause right now he fits the description! “yes….” is all you end up saying.

You hurry over to him to take the book back, and as you reach for it, he holds it higher above his head and brings his free hand up to your chin.

“Huh?” You swallow, “Prof-essor?”

“You do so well in my class… You deserve a reward.” he hums, appraising your lips.

Your heart pounds.

“Come to my place for dinner this weekend.” He says in a way that isn’t asking, it’s demanding.

“Y-yessir…” his eyes are so hypnotizing… You follow his eyes inferring the parts of you he’s inspecting, he meets your gaze, his lids heavy. You couldn’t turn him down.

It feels like you and him are in a dimension all on your own, and time doesn’t exist there. Your body is warming up, and he leans down, inching ever closer…

“I’ll make you a special dinner, to show how proud of you i am.” his words are enough to send electricity down your spine.

He slips his hand down from your chin, caressing your neck, before flowing off of your collar bone.

He puts the book in your hands and leaves you standing there in shock.

[alpaca-clouds]

Rural Living vs Capitalism

Something I find rather funny is this one thing that somehow left wing and right wing people will agree on: They kinda hate farmers and their protests and them wanting living wages - just for different reasons. Like, sure, there is a certain group of right wing traditionalists who idealize farmers, but pretty much everyone else just is angry with them in one way or another.

Among left wingers I usually make myself unpopular by looking at farmer protests and go: "Yeah, well, actually they are right?" Because most of the times the protesting farmers are the smaller and middle sized farms, who get fucked over by the big coorporate farms. And that is an issue. It is among the issues they are protesting about.

And this is a general thing when it comes to the rural communities.

See, a lot of times left wing people tend to be rather suspicious of rural folks, having this idea that everyone in rural areas is super conservative - not to say racist, misogynist and queerphobic. And... Like, we know that statistically speaking a lot more people with "conservative" ideas (if not outright rightwing) live in the rural areas, which has to do with folks in those areas generally being older. And if younger families move into rural areas, they often are better off and hence statistically also more likely to be right-leaning at the very least.

However, the fact is that nobody gets quite as fucked over by capitalism as people in the rural areas are - both farmers and people just living there. And there are always people living in rural areas for the other reason people might move there: The fact that living in rural areas is on the surface a lot cheaper. Homes are cheaper there at the very least.

But that is where it starts. Because rural folks get fucked over in so many way. Generally there is the fact that a lot of other stuff is more expensive in the rural areas. Often amenities might be more expensive. You want fast internet? Lol good luck finding someone offering it. The internet cables lying in your village are probably like 15 years old. You remember ISDN? You wanna go shopping? Well, you gotta drive 30-60 minutes to the next supermarket. Need new clothes? Well, it is a two hour drive now. Also, the supermarket might be more expensive than the one in the city. You cannot drive a car for some reason? Well, we have a bus that comes two times a day, if you miss it, you are fucked. The next train station is like an hour away. Mostly because for "small" rural communities it is just not payign under capitalism to put all those things into the villages. A big supermarket? Does not make enough money there. Fast internet? Costs too much to put down there. The same with everything else. And thus... Because capitalist companies want to make a profit, a lot of stuff is not available in rural areas. In the worst cases this leads to food deserts - large areas where no supermarkets and ways to get food (other than fast food joints) are avaialble.

Oh, and schools? At times the next school might be more than an hour away as well.

And if you are a farmer? Well, if you are a small farmer you are fucked as well. Because no way in hell are you able to work your farm as efficiently as a coorporate farm management company is able to, who underpay the farmers working for them. Those companies can afford for giant automated systems, too, that take care of a lot of the stuff. Things that a lot of smaller farmers just cannot pay for or need to go into dept for.

So, in so many ways... Yeah, people in rural areas get fucked over again and again. Both people living there - and the farmers. And... Well, yeah. Of course because in the rural areas people tend to be a lot more conservative - but in the end they might be fucked over more than anyone else by capitalism. And due to the lack of basically everything around them, they often lack access to the information of how and why they are fucked over.

Which is not to say, that there are not left wing organizations active in rural areas. And some people there start to see how they get fucked over.

But I just wished for left wing people to also realize that this really is a big issue. And have some sympathy for those people.

[nest-being]

i agree that buying temu/shein is generally scummy and people shouldn't do it, plus slowly building a wardrobe is the best way to go; but the brands you listed *are* unaffordable for people. taking into account some people can't save due to their financial situation and there's currencies where a USD$15 game is genuinely super expensive.

imo taobao/aliexpress is a good option (aliexpress is full of good quality taobao resellers in my experience so it's still better than going somewhere like shein. somehow i've bought stuff there that's better quality than the branded stuff i have) as well as buying second-hand. i wish i could find a guide for buying jfashion second-hand since i haven't had any luck. do you know any good second-hand and cheaper shops i could look into?

Hii, long post incoming!!!! i totally get what you're saying and understand your point of view 💞 i just want to clarify, because i feel like maybe my wording was a bit confusing, but the point of that post was not really the affordability or cost of the clothing, rather the availability. i had been talking to someone who claimed plus sized people buy j-fashion pieces from temu and shein not because of the price but because nothing else is available in plus sizes, which is absolutely not true. i tried to avoid saying that those options are cheap or affordable for that reason. rather i used the words well priced and reasonable because i think the quality is worth what you pay. like, if you can afford to do a huge shein haul of 10 items or something just for the aesthetic, i feel like that money is better spent getting 2 or 3 items (or more if you thrift!!) that are better made and have a far longer life span than the shein equivalent. unfortunately, i do realise that can still be quite difficult to afford for some people and i genuinely don't want to come across as begrudging anyone for shopping fast fashion when they have no other options. i myself am a broke sw, and i'm not american but i can confidently say i cannot afford a USD$15 game so i definitely understand being in a situation where you cannot save any money 🥲 i was being a bit dramatic saying no excuses in my original post, of course there are exceptions if you are truly too broke and thrifting/upcycling is not an option.

in saying that, if you have the time and ability to save a little bit of money to put towards clothing, there are some great places to shop second hand out there! i will emphasise- it takes time to find things that will fit, both aesthetically and size wise, as most of my recs do not exclusively sell plus sized fashion. personally, i find the search rewarding and since i'm on a budget, i have to really think about whether or not something will fit my wardrobe before buying. for some of these stores, i would personally recommend saving up and making bigger orders of multiple items if you can to save on shipping, as it can get expensive. also, i'm focusing mainly on second hand in this post because to be completely honest, there aren't really options for new j-fashion clothing that are going to be as cheap as shein/temu and isn't just more ultra fast fashion. i have plenty of plus sized clothing recs that i am so happy to pass on, but yeah, not really cheap 😅 anyway, here are my second hand recs-

mercari

mercari has some real gems if you are willing to dig. i usually search for j-fashion brands that i like and know make plus sized clothing and sort by price lowest to see what's available within my budget. obviously this can come up dry a lot of the time but i have found so many great pieces and accessories! usually if you search for a brand it will come up with a lot of similar clothing from other brands too so sometimes you can find some surprising stuff!! not everything is cheap, but like any online marketplace, if you're willing to dig you can find a bargain! you do have to use a shopping service but there can be some benefits for this. generally if you buy something, they will hold it in their warehouse for up to 30 days (or longer for a small fee) so you can combine the shipping if you buy multiple pieces over a longer period of time. i personally use buyee but there are probably better options out there!

closetchild

this one is a consignment store with a huge selection of stuff. at least 50% of my lolita wardrobe is from closetchild, and i don't think i've bought a single piece from there for over ¥12000 (approx USD$80) which would be my absolute upper limit for a brand dress. most stuff i've bought from there has been way cheaper. they also have a lot of other j-fashion pieces that are usually very well priced. the sizing is listed in flat measurements, but if it's lolita, i always cross reference on lolibrary to see if it will fit (forever wishing there was an equivalent for other j-fashions 😭)

wunderwelt

wunderwelt is a consignment store AND brand retailer all in one. i haven't personally bought anything from here yet but they have lots of well priced j-fashion items, including specific sale sections with items for ¥999, ¥1999 and ¥3999 🤩 their brand retailer has a plus sized section too, which is nice! the measurements are also flat but i find them more accurate compared to the lolibrary measurements than closetchild.

kei plus: plus size j-fashion discussion and sales (facebook group)

i love this group! super welcoming and there's always a lot of great stuff for sale that fit lots of different styles. also lots of advice and reference posts which are super helpful! you do buy direct from the seller though so make sure you check their feedback on whatever site they're selling through.

plus size lolita sales (english only)(facebook group)

another nice little group, this one specifically for lolita. it gets pretty regular listings so it's fun to check back every so often to see if there are any bargains. like above, make sure to check feedback before buying.

lace market

lolita specific second hand market. absolutely huge selection of stuff and you can search using brand and region. you can add measurements too if you're searching within specific categories. sadly there are heaps of scalpers but there are also lots of genuine sellers and if you look around you can absolutely find bargains!

kei market

the j-fashion sister marketplace of lace market. same as above- huge selection of stuff, maybe a bit harder to cross reference the sizing but people are usually happy to check measurements if you ask.

aside from these, i have a few other recommendations for thrifting that aren't specifically online stores. if you are able, look for j-fashion/lolita communities in your area and see if they have sales groups or swap meets! i've generally been able to find facebook groups catering to j-fashion and lolita for all the areas i've lived, although this will be easier if you're in a city. if you find a group and they don't have any events like that- suggest one! it's a great way to meet people and keep clothing circulating throughout communities 🥰 also, being in a group of like-minded people in your area has its benefits, as you can do group orders on sites to save on shipping!

thrifting in person and upcycling can also be super fun! obviously you're not going to randomly find a lolita jsk (unless you are ridiculously lucky- looking at YOU american lolitas) but if you wear other j-fashions or are looking for staple/more casual pieces, thrifting in person can be great, especially if you're able to do a bit of hand sewing. adding a bit of lace, charms, ruffles or appliques can 100% transform a regular piece into something special. there are tons of cute lace and trim options on aliexpress, and you can always check for sales in physical stores as well. the best part is you end up with something personalised and unique. i'm gonna add as well, thrift stores these days do have a lot of shein/fast fashion clothing. personally, although i don't recommend buying directly from those brands, i think it's fine to buy them second hand if they fit you and your style. even knowing they don't have the longevity of higher quality clothing, you're still saving it from landfill. i've found some cute shein second hand that i would never buy new but has a place in my wardrobe. the only downside is that you pretty much have to constantly repair and upkeep these items to keep them looking nice.

lastly, not second hand, but i wanna add that taobao and aliexpress can absolutely be great options! i haven't bought from taobao in many years but if you're not up for going through a shopping service or buying direct, 42lolita seems to be the most recommended reseller i see thrown around. i think the best aspect of their store is that if you find an item you like on taobao, they will list it on their store for you to buy, which i really like. aliexpress is a bit more hit and miss to me when it comes to quality, price and sizing. i've had less luck finding genuinely plus size items and there are a lot of design replicas which look great in the listing pics but if you check the reviewer pics, they're always shoddily made and ill fitting. there are also a lot of stores selling extremely marked up taobao clothing, so if you find something you like, maybe check around and see if you can find it cheaper elsewhere. in saying that, there are some genuine storefronts if you look around. i recently bought a pair of bloomers from mikumn store and ooooomg they're so comfy!!! definitely would love to hear your aliexpress recs, since you seem to have a lot of luck with it 😊 for anyone new to aliexpress, it is imperative that you check the reviews and don't buy anything that doesn't have customer photos. that's the best advice i can give to avoid being scammed. also, if you're unsure of the quality of something in the photos, don't be afraid to ask others in the community for their input! it can be really hard to determine what's good quality and what's not when your only experience is with fast fashion. groups like big sisters of lolita or various j-fashion subreddits are always happy to help 💕

anyway, i've maybe gone a bit overboard but i hope this info can be helpful! these are just the ones i'm most familiar with so there are probably more out there too. if you would like some brand recs to be on the lookout for, let me know what styles you're into and i'll share the ones i know 🥰 also if you're ever at a loss for more specific resources, i'm pretty good at digging up guides! i'm sure it already exists but i might even put together a bit of a list of plus sized j-fashion stores if anyone would be interested in something like that 💖

[mikurulucky]

Tochiro hyperfocuses like a goddamned champ. I wonder how many times he forgot to eat while he was tinkering with stuff or building the Arcadia. How many times did Emeraldas and Harlock end up giving him food thinking "Yo, you forgot to eat lunch a few hours ago, so I brought you this".

The times he feels he NEEDS to do something and stubbornly sticks to that thing, whether it's fixing the ship when he needs to rest after an injury or it's driving through a disease/cancer causing wormhole to fix Emeraldas's ship, or wandering off to a random western town to find his people in Gun Frontier despite Harlock and Shinunora telling him "Bro, you're gonna get yourself killed!"... it's numerous.

He's like my black cat endlessly looking for his toy mouse because it's his favorite. If he's got something he needs or wants to do, he's dead set on it until it's done. I imagine in the case of tinkering, that might've lead to moments where he ended up staying up all night only realizing he did so after randomly looking at the clock and realizing "Oh shit, I've been tinkering with this machine for literal HOURS!! O_O" and going to bed at like the crack of dawn. I know I've done that many times lol.

I wonder if that's part of the reason he rarely bathes in some timelines lol. The other part maybe being executive dysfunction or a negative association with past bathing incidents like someone forcing him to bathe and being too rough with him.

(I do suspect that that, the lack of motivation, and the fact there's only like ONE bathing area in the boarding house could be why Nobotta hardly bathes unless he's made to bathe, and the landlady's attempts to make him bathe probably only exacerbates that issue long term. As for his unwillingness to wash his boxers... idk maybe that was to save money, like forgoing a trip to the laundromat in favor of buying food?... or more boxers??? As if that's cheaper somehow??? Idk, I liken Nobotta's endless buying of boxers to my doordash addiction thanks to having less energy to cook half the time lol. And the mushrooms seem to be the result of rain leaking into his closet, as moisture DOES lead to the development of mold and other fungi after a while, and you DON'T want that. Nobotta's just lucky the mushrooms that grow on his boxers are actually edible inky cap mushrooms and not something poisonous (yes, I do believe they're supposed to be based on the inky cap mushrooms Leiji found growing on one of his clothing once and fed to, iirc, the creator of Ashita no Joe?). Eating those mushrooms is still kinda cursed tho lol.)