#at least I will tell myself that every time

[beautifullilacsky]

Babygirl. We have come so far.

Today, your thoughts turned around to the past. They shook hands with the way we used to treat ourselves. It started off on a note I'd never expect it to start off of, though; look at that picture of me, the one in the natural pool in Madeira. The first time I looked at it, I was truly surprised and shooketh. "Damn, I look thin", as to which niklas said that that's how I always look, I am, in fact, thin. I didn't count, but I think I asked him at least 3 times. "Do I truly look like this?" He did say that the angle might be making me look extra thin, but yes. Suddenly, it all clicked. How to him, I can seem so fragile. So fragile that he'd always let me walk first on hikes to make sure the pace is okay, always carrying the backpack himself. The way he is scared of hurting me, like, physically. The picture looks like a tiny, thin, and fragile girl. Yeah tbh, she also doesn't look particularly strong. You can see her collarbones. Her ribs. Her shoulders. Tbh, she also looks a bit like a petshop. I do think the gopro did something with the angle there, u can't tell me my head is out of proportion to my tiny body, lol. My point is. Today, I was doubting whether or not I should eat those cookies. After thinking if it'd make me thick, I remembered. I am v thin, more weight wouldn't be so bad.

I never expected to truly feel skinny. Or well, 'too skinny', at least. To think I could gain some weight; it wouldn't be a problem. That is very new to me. After 25 years. Some of those years being spend hating my body and my belly and feeling overweight, even if my teacher even told me that being underweight is dangerous, her eyes seemingly insinuating the obvious.

Yet here I am. This one picture. And tbh, the other pics or videos of this vacation, don't have the same vibe. So I do think it's the angle. And maybe a bit of a fishbowl effect. Either way. It got me thinking. And suddenly I was thinking of it again: boobs. I am also reading 'the 7 husband's of Evelyn Hugo', who seduced men with her big boobs. Somehow, booby enlargement came to my mind again. Why? It's been so long. I have learned to love my boobs, yet this blast of the past came into my head. Actually,.. it is just a thought. It is actually nice. A reminder of where we came from.

How I hated my body in the past. And here I am. Loving every single part of it. Frankly, I love my boobs the way they are. Sure, they might not be super big, but I don't need to hold them when I run or sprint down the stairs. Sure, they are soft in the middle instead of pointy, but I think it's fascinating how certain temperatures, moods and touches can change that. Sure, they don't touch, but at least it also won't create a hot brew in there or trap my clothes inbetween or underneath my boobs. Honestly, they are truly perfect. (Even the little pimple on there right now. Even though I am a bit scared; is it truly a pimple? It should be, it behaves like one for sure.) I can cup one into my hand; it is a perfect fit. As if they were made to be held so gently and smoothly. So filled with love. So, ... true. My hand can touch all of its beautiful creases. They don't overflow my hands, nor do I need to search to find them. Sure, some might have bigger boobs, but not everyone likes that. Some people get attention just because of it. I am truly happy to be able to say that a lot of people just like me for my personality. The looks are for sure also there, but at least my boobs don't get eye-fucked or objectified. I am myself. Perfect the way I am. And I am grateful to be this exact way. I think my boobs are adorable, they are cute, and truly. Truly beautiful. Thanks boobs, for being w me always. And I'm sorry that I didn't see the beauty of you guys for a part of my life. I am happy that I do now, since a while. Love u, boobies. Lol.

Anyhow. I wish to send myself love letters. See this is a loveletter to one of the bodyparts which I was insecure about in the past. Let me show them some true love, which is exactly what they deserve.

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰CHARLES LECLERC.

xv. he was sunshine, i was midnight rain

— the one where you broke his heart 'cause he was nice.

❝𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘖𝘩, 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥?❞ —𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐘, 𝟏𝟑.

warnings: angst, not proofread and pls go easy on me i'm coming out of the worst block everrrrrrrrrr. our girlie is making poor choices pls hate her a bit for it, the last bit is charles centered. 2.23k words (+articles!)

masterlist ✢ next

by Tom Gill

The worst time to have a carreer on Public Relations is when your client is as unhinged as y/n y/ln has proven to be. Many people, myself included, can't help but feel sorry for whoever is on her team because there's only so much someone can do to put out a fire when the person burning is the same one who keeps lighting the matches.

y/n just can't stop messing up, can she? Just when her fans thought she would rise from the ashes with an outstanding movie deal, the 'Queen of Romcoms' has to go ahead and mess things up by proving that people who aren't blinded by her master manipulations are right: y/n y/ln is in fact a cheating snake.

The Deuxmoi post talking about an actress involved with a Formula 1 driver and her presence at the Italian Grand Prix last Sunday are enough confirmation of the fact. y/n is not ashamed to be seen on broad daylight with the guy that broke off her engagement.

Don't kill the messenger, y/n fans. Aidan Kim and Victoria Presley did warn you.

New York, United States, September 10th.

It feels like you've just finished unpacking when you find yourself throwing stuff in a suitcase once again. There is little to none excitement in you as you decide between a couple of blouses and recite Amy's lines outloud inside your messy apartment.

"Wait—that's not right," you huff, unaware that you've let the blouse you like the least inside the suitcase. The lines slip your mind like butter on a pan. Honestly, you've started to wonder if several of your braincells died in the past month. Nothing other than 'I want to be great or nothing' seem to have stuck. So much for how well that single line applies to your life.

"'It looks like it's never done a day of work in its life'," you mutter, picking the script up from the dining table. You have studied it a million times, gone through lines and rehearsals and a thousand other things. You have called Greta and Timothée and Saoirse and they have called you on their own accord to agree the accurate tones of scenes and interactions, and yet you are sure you are still going to mess everything up once the camera starts rolling. "God, help me."

The clock on your phone tells you it's 9:30 a.m. and you are nowhere being done with your luggage. Also, Charles' plane lands in less than an hour and you are not making it to the airport in time. He has a busy month race-wise and he has still made some time to come to New York before you leave for Boston in a couple days and you are both turned upside down with the Asian race-tour.

There is one reason—and one reason only— that Mildred has agreed that you should have these two days off. That reason is not Charles Leclerc, given the fact that she has grown to hate him even if she can admit, albeit to herself only, that he has done nothing wrong. You are supposed to be preparing more interviews and then a prolonged stage of silence while you focus on filming Little Women. Mildred has a whole plan laid out and that is another script you have to follow. No improvisations though, you have been warned.

─────────

Time has a funny way of passing by when it comes to Charles and yourself. Your whole relationship feels contained in a moment and also in a century, and every time you see each other again, even after just a few days a whole other bubble of time seems to have passed. You think it's Charles' way of making it feel special, making you feel special by looking at you like you're a part of him he's constantly missing when you're not right next to him. A 'lovesick fool' you have heard him been nicknamed by people who try to be nice, at least a little bit. Others sneer at how they can't wait for the 'honeymoon phase' to be over.

And it's precisely the way he looks at you before he's crushing you against his chest that makes you hold your tongue for the rest of the day. You cannot bring yourself to tell him the plan the people around you have made without asking for your input—much lesser his— to salvage your career and your reputation.

It nags at you how stupid you're being. Maybe some part of your brain did die between Sunday and today, but you are certain you won't be able to bear the disappointment in Charles' eyes when he finds out what you agreed to.

This visit is less touristy than the last time Charles came to New York. He's leaving tomorrow and you, the day after for Boston, so you want to bask in each other's company as much as possible. You go to a cupcake place and take pictures, all while Charles re-tells everything people have said about his win on Sunday. He's become even more of the Golden Boy he already was in the eyes of Ferrari fans, and you feel love swell in your chest at the fact. You love that he's loved, there's nothing he deserves more than to be loved.

"Will you show me the script now?" Charles asks, taking his light jacket off as he crosses the door to your apartment. A slight feeling of embarrassment flashes through you when you focus on the different disasters around the house but Charles either doesn't notice or doesn't mind as he makes himself comfortable on the couch where several pairs of your shoes are scattered.

"I think it would violate my contract somehow if I did," you chuckle, noticing that your travel kit toothbrush and toiletries are on the coffee table. "I was sure I had those in my luggage already," you groan, pointing at them.

Charles laughs, patting the spot next to him and motioning you over excitedly. "Can I see it please?" he elongates the 'e', with a mocking puppy eye look on his face. "Read me some of your favorite lines," he's suggested so several times and you refuse him every single one. It's not like he hasn't seen you act, Charles admitted in one of your phone calls to have binged all of your movies.

"I can't," you fall into the couch next to him, wrapping one arm around his neck. "You make me nervous, it won't turn out good."

"You see me work all the time," he grumbles against your hair, "And you too, make me nervous. You're being unfair."

"Oh, booohooo," you mock, nuzzling into his neck. "Your job is far more exciting than me reciting lines."

"It is not—"

His complaint is cut short as you kiss him, once, twice, so many times you lose count and he kisses you back between snickers and fake complaints about how there's only so much his heart can take before it explodes. It's so cheesy it makes you both cringe and burst with laughter before starting the scene all over again.

A re-run of a Foodnetwork reality show is playing in the background when you open your eyes after a short-lived nap. Charles is swiping through his phone with his other arm around you, the light in the apartment has faded almost completely giving way to late evening.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?" you ask pushing off of Charles' body and sit and rub your eyes. "Or should we order something?"

He locks his phone and stretches, still laying on his back. "Whatever you want to do, soleil."

You two are way too comfortable in your little cocoon to mess it up by going outside just to eat. Charles smiles, knowing you've already made your mind up.

You argue on the couch for ten minutes about what take-out to get and after you've finally placed the order on your phone, you get up to make some space the dining table.

"Here," you throw the bunch of papers at him softly. The 'Little Women' script is anotated from page one, and it is true that you probably shouldn't be showing it to him, but it doesn't really hurt anyone either. "Not a word, do you hear me, Leclerc?"

Charles laughs before crossing his heart with his index finger, eager to read about your next big thing.

You throw more stuff on your open suitcase, wipe the table down and look through your kitchen for an unopened bottle of wine while Charles reads and occassionally shouts something from the living room. He's so genuinely excited about seeing you bring Amy to life on the silver screen.

"Gooodddd, what's taking them so long?" you whine as you return to the living room. The 'your order is in progress' notification still alive on the screen of your phone. Charles doesn't seem to mind as he makes space for you to sit with him again.

"Couch potato," you stick your tongue out at him, placing your feet on his lap after reaching for the TV remote. You surf through a few channels, trying to remember what the name was of that crime documentary you wanted to watch on Netflix.

"...y/n y/ln making headlines again with her messy love life," the E! Show that's starting has your picture and Charles' next to each other.

Charles' eyes move from the last pages of the script to the TV and then to you. "Change the channel, love," he says as he reaches for the remote himself.

"Yeah," you click on the Netflix logo on the remote and the screen goes black as your phone pings, letting you know your food has been delivered to your apartment complex's lobby.

─────────

There is something beautiful about domestic life with Charles even if it just exists for scarce moments like this. The smell of coffee and the sound of his humming lull you into a peaceful state of mind as you prepare breakfast before once again leaving for the airport.

Messages from Mildred, three or four already, remind you that you must be ready for the list of things she had also reminded you of a million times already.

'how did he take it?' you read from your phone, Mildred again.

You look at Charles and open your mouth. Maybe now that he's leaving in a couple hours you'll work up the courage to tell him about how Mildred is staging your break-up right this second. Which means nothing, right? Keeping it lowkey is for the best, even for him.

Right?

You open your mouth and close it several times looking at your disheveled boyfriend and his sweet smile.

"What?"

"There's something I have to tell you," you breathe out, screwing the already too tight cap on the empty bottle of orange juice that rests on the table.

"So tell me," Charles' smile widens as he puts both elbows on the table, ready to listen.

"I'm really going to miss you." you chuckle awkwardly, and there is momentary gesture, barely perceptible, in Charles' face that tells you he knows that's not what you really wanted to say.

"Me too soleil, but we'll figure it out," he's reaching for your hand with a weaker smile on his face this time.

AFTER months of speculation about the nature of y/n's relationship with Formula 1 Pilot Charles Leclerc, a spokesperson for the actress has made an exclusive statemen for PEOPLE.

"They have never been romantically-involved," the source said. "Their friendship is undeniable but there's nothing more than that."

y/ln and Leclerc have been linked since April and spotted in public together several times, including at the Italian Grand Prix on September 3rd.

"Since becoming friendly they've ran into each other at several events," the source continues, "They are often surrounded by friends they have in common, such as Matilde Bassi and Timothée Chalamet. y/n knows it's too soon to put herself out there romantically."

Despite a rumor surfacing on an online gossip site that they took a romantic vacation together in Greece, y/n's spokesperson tells PEOPLE that "pictures are often released without context to create controversy."

Charles Leclerc has been blind-sided. Which, to be fair, in his career field is something he should be used to. But the feeling doesn't compare to being blind-sided by the person who is supposed to be your partner.

Charles understands, he always understands, or at least tries his best to do so. But this time, it really feels like he's reached his limit. It's not even about how he's become even more of the laughing-stock within his group of friends about how he's been parading y/n around and defending her honor for her to call their relationship 'casual' rather than not even getting a heads-up from her about the matter.

"Is there something you would like to talk about now, y/n?" Charles questions, trying his best not to let the anger flow into his voice.

Charles thinks the worst part is how long she stays silent, but it's not even close to what comes next.

"I tried telling you," she lies.

"When?" there is no point in hiding his anger anymore, even if he doesn't want to fight. This is one of those unavoidable things you expect to hit somewhere down the road in the relationship, not a month into it.

"I TRIED!" she repeats, unable to come up with any argument in her defense.

"You never tried! See that's the thing about you, you just wait for things to happen and then you 'try' to deal with the mess!" His accent is thickening with every word.

"If it bothers you so much—"

"What bothers me," he cuts her off, "Is how you cannot trust me with these things? What did you think I would say?!"

"Exactly what you're saying now, Charles," she sounds defeated and it manages to irk him an extra mile. "You don't understand—"

"I don't understand how you still care more about what people are going to say than about talking to me. I'm your boyfriend!"

There is another long silence during which he can hear faint yelling in the background of her side of the line. On his side of the world it's nearly midnight.

"I've been thinking," y/n nearly gasps, "That maybe we rushed things."

"Rushed things?" his voice is so small now he wonders if it can really travel half-way through the world.

"I— Maybe Mildred is right— I wasn't, I am not ready for a relationship." She stammers, and Charles can picture her pinching her thigh in that nervous tick she can't quite manage to get rid of.

"You can't even take responsibility for your own feelings?"

It's always Aidan, Victoria, Mildred... a handy list of people to put part of the blame on for when she doesn't want to say things herself.

And Charles accepts it. He accepts her messes because he wants her, but now apparently y/n doesn't even want him back.

"What do you even mean by that?" y/n scoffs.

"Can you even be honest with me, then? Say that it is you who doesn't want this relationship, y/n, don't put it on—"

"I'M NOT PUTTING IT ON ANYONE! THIS HAS BEEN A MISTAKE SINCE WE LEFT MYKONOS I—"

Charles didn't want to fight and now there is nothing to fight for, anyway. So he hangs the phone up, because sometimes things end in silence.

It's three am, and Charles Leclerc just got his heart broken.

─── team principal radio: ❝why hello there, i don't even know if you remember this fic but it is for my own peace of mind that I have to finish it!!! also i love these characters a lot, even when they're acting so selfish and stupid—looking at you y/n. Thank you if you are still here and like me, had to reread it to get to this chapter.❞

✰ paddock club members: NO PADDOCK CLUB THIS TIME BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IF ANYONE STILL WANTS TO BE TAGGED.

[watarfallar]

If I had a nickel for every time I posted an incorrect quotes dump, I'd have a lot of nickles!

BigB: What if I lied this whole time and I'm actually 18? Mumbo: BigB, stop trying to get drugs. BigB: Don't suppress my interests.

Lizzie: Oh, my God. Do you know what this is? Jimmy: It’s a book. There’s a lot of those in here, this is a library.

Tango: Don’t stay up all night, Ren. Last time you got this sleep-deprived, you tried to eat your own shirt.

Scar: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly. Gem, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

Etho: Gem has no idea I’m high. Gem: You’re high? Etho: Oh, I’m sorry. Etho, leaning over to Grian: Gem has no idea I’m high.

Martyn: Why don't we just call it, "M.C. Donald's?" Scar: Because it just sounds like a stupid rapper's name. Cleo: It'd just be like- "Eyo, it's ya boy, M.C. Donald!"

Scar: What did you guys get in your yearbook? Grian: 'Prettiest Smile' Joel: 'Nicest Personality' Ren: 'Most likely to start a bar fight' Cleo: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Impulse: I don't follow the rules. I follow dogs on social media.

Pearl: So I’m the only one around here who can clean up, huh? You can't even lift a finger? Tango: Do I get to pick the finger?

Jimmy, talking to Impulse: Well Impulse, whenever I’m about to do something, I think ‘would Gem do that?’ and if they would, I do not do that thing. Impulse: … Gem, from the distance: They’re not wrong though!

Pearl: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.

BigB: Tango, what if there are monsters? Tango: Don’t worry, we’re top of the food chain. Much later… BigB, lying awake at night: I am the monster.

Pearl: If we don’t get out of this alive… If we’re both about to die… I love you, Gem! *Neither of them die* Gem: … Pearl: … Gem: So do you wanna talk about somethi- Pearl: No thank you.

Bdubs: Aww, what's your dog's name? Tango: Spartacus. Bdubs, yelling to Martyn: TRY SPARTACUS! Martyn, on the computer: DIDN'T WORK! Tango: Bdubs: What's your favorite number?

Scott: Don’t say a word. Impulse: Fergalicious. Scott: Impulse, I said no words. Impulse: Oh, I see how it works. Two weeks ago, we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word, now suddenly it is a word because it’s convenient for you.

Skizz, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

Cleo: Who wants to make fifty bucks? Tango: How? Cleo: I need someone to take the fall. Tango: What did you do? Cleo: I can't tell you. Yes or no, no questions asked. Etho, from the other room: Oh my god. Cleo: ... Etho: OH MY GOD! Tango: Make it a hundred. Cleo: Deal.

Mumbo: So jellyshish- Grian, laughing: JELLYSHISH!? Mumbo: You know what I meant!

Cleo: We can't lose. Because we have this. *points to their chest* Skizz: We have heart? Cleo: Heart? No, me. I'm pointing at myself. I'm going to win this for us.

Etho: Do you even have a plan? Tango: This is the plan! I break you out, chaos, destruction, something something something, we win! Etho: Oh, of course, the old “something something something we win”. That’s a terrible plan!

Pearl: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them? Grian: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them. Pearl: Okay yeah thanks Grian, that's great but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT?

Scar: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

[onlycosmere]

“He kept on the proper face all the way to his rooms, and was proud of himself for it. Then he stepped inside and found an empty nothingness. His were the quarters of a highlord, supposedly luxurious and spacious. He had little furniture though, and that left it feeling hollow. Dark, the sole light coming from the balcony. Every honor he’d been given seemed to highlight how vacant his life really was. Titles couldn’t fill a room with life.

Still, he turned and closed the door with a firm push. Only then did he break. He didn’t make it to the chair. He sank down with his back to the wall beside the door. He tried to unbutton his coat, but ended up bending forward with his knuckles pressing his forehead, digging into his skin as he hyperventilated, gasping in deep breaths of air while he trembled and shook.

Exhaustionspren like jets of dust gleefully congregated around him. And agonyspren, like upside-down faces carved from stone, twisted and faded in and out. He couldn’t cry. Nothing came out. He wanted to cry, because at least that would be a release. Instead he huddled, knuckles pressing against the scars in his forehead, wishing he could shrivel away. Like the eyes of a person struck by a Shardblade.

In moments like this—alone and huddled on the floor of a dark room, tormented by agonyspren—Moash’s words found him. The truth of them became undeniable. Out in the garish sunlight, it was easy to pretend that everything was all right. In here, Kaladin could see clearly.

You’re just going to keep hurting.…

His entire life had been a futile effort to stop a storm by yelling at it. The storm didn’t care.

They’re all going to die. There’s nothing you can do about it.

You could never build anything that lasted, so why try? Everything decayed and fell apart. Nothing was permanent. Not even love.

Only one way out …

A knock came at his door. Kaladin ignored the sound until it became insistent. Storms. They were going to barge in, weren’t they? Suddenly panicked that anyone should find him like this, Kaladin stood up and straightened his coat. He took a deep breath, and the agonyspren faded.

Adolin pushed his way in, a treasonous Syl on his shoulder. That was where she had gone? To fetch Adolin storming Kholin?

The young man wore a uniform of Kholin blue, but not a regulation one. He’d taken to having embellishments added, regardless of what his father thought. While it was sturdy—a little stiff, starched to maintain neat lines—its sleeves were embroidered to match his boots. The cut left the coat longer than most—a bit like Kaladin’s own captain’s coat, but more trendy.

Somehow Adolin wore the uniform, when the uniform had always worn Kaladin. To Kaladin, the uniform was a tool. To Adolin it was a part of an ensemble. How did he get his hair—blond, peppered black—so perfectly messy? It was both casual and deliberate at the same time.

He was smiling, of course. Storming man.

“You are here!” Adolin said. “Rock said he thought you were heading for your room.”

“Because I wanted to be alone,” Kaladin said.

“You spend too many evenings alone, bridgeboy,” Adolin said, glancing at the nearby exhaustionspren, then grabbing Kaladin by the arm—something few other people would have dared.

“I like being by myself,” Kaladin said.

“Great. Sounds awful. Today, you’re coming with me. No more excuses. I let you blow me away last week and the week before.”

“Maybe,” Kaladin snapped, “I just don’t want to be around you, Adolin.”

The highprince hesitated, then leaned forward, narrowing his eyes and putting his face up close to Kaladin’s. Syl still sat on Adolin’s shoulder, her arms folded—without even the decency to look ashamed when Kaladin glared at her.

“Tell me honestly,” Adolin said. “With an oath, Kaladin. Tell me that you should be left alone tonight. Swear it to me.”

Adolin held his gaze. Kaladin tried to form the words, and felt of the ten fools when he couldn’t get them out.

He definitely shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Storm you,” Kaladin said.

“Ha,” Adolin said, tugging him by the arm. “Come on, Brightlord Master Highmarshal Stormface. Change your coat to one that doesn’t smell like smoke, then come with me. You don’t have to smile. You don’t have to talk. But if you’re going to be miserable, you might as well do it with friends.”

Kaladin extracted his arm from Adolin’s grip, but didn’t resist further. He grabbed new clothes—tossing aside the ones he’d been fighting in.

He did, however, shoot Syl another glare as she flew over to him. “Adolin?” Kaladin said as he changed. “Your first thought was to get Adolin?”

“I needed someone you couldn’t intimidate,” she replied. “That list at best includes three people. And the queen was likely to transform you into a crystal goblet or something.”

Kaladin sighed and walked out to join Adolin, lest the highprince think he was dallying. Syl eyed Kaladin as she walked in the air alongside him, keeping up with him despite her dainty steps.

“Thank you,” Kaladin said softly, turning his eyes forward.”

- Rhythm of War

[sjylouvre]

You’ve Got This (SJY)

PAIRING ➤ sim jaeyun x afab!reader

GENRE ➤ fluff

WARNINGS ➤ kisses, reader is overthinking, stressed out, proofread but i'm sorry if there's mistakes! (Imk if i missed something pls!!)

WORD COUNT ➤ 1.2k

MASTERLIST

The night before your big presentation, the room feels like it’s closing in around you. Notes are scattered everywhere—on the bed, on the table, some even in your hands—but no matter how much you read them, the words just won’t stick. The reality of speaking in front of over 50 people looms over you, making your stomach twist with dread. Each time you try to rehearse a line, your heart races, and it’s as if the very air in the room is too thick to breathe.

Jake’s been watching you silently for a while, his gaze soft and worried. Finally, he stands up, crossing the room and gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch instantly grounding you. “Hey, babe,” he says softly, his voice like a balm against the tension in the air. “You’re doing that thing again.”

You blink, glancing at him with wide, slightly panicked eyes. “What thing?”

“The thing where you get so in your head that you forget to breathe,” he says, smiling a little as he rubs small, soothing circles on your shoulder. “Come on. Sit down with me for a sec.”

He leads you over to the edge of the bed, where he sits down beside you, keeping his arm around your shoulder, his other hand moving to rest gently on your knee. You feel the warmth of his touch, the steady rhythm of his breaths, and some of the tightness in your chest begins to ease.

“Jake… I don’t think I can do this,” you mumble, barely above a whisper, your eyes fixed on your notes. “Every time I think about all those people watching me, I freeze. What if I completely mess up? What if I stand there and just… go blank?”

Jake’s hand moves from your shoulder to your back, his palm pressing softly against you in a comforting rhythm. “You’re not going to mess up. You’ve been practicing for this for weeks. You know this material inside and out.” His voice is steady, gentle, but filled with conviction. “And even if you do stumble, it won’t matter, because everyone in that room is there to listen, not to judge.”

You bite your lip, still feeling the knot of worry that refuses to leave. “But what if I forget everything? What if I just… blank out?”

He takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Then you take a deep breath, and you remember that you have a whole room of people waiting to hear something incredible from you. If you need a moment, take it. You don’t have to be perfect.” His eyes meet yours, filled with a warmth that makes your heart stutter. “You’re going to do amazing, because you’re you. And that’s enough.”

You close your eyes, his words sinking in, but the anxiety is stubborn. “It doesn’t feel like it’s enough, Jake… I’m so scared of disappointing everyone. Disappointing… myself.”

He moves closer, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you fully into his embrace. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice a comforting whisper in your ear. “You won’t disappoint anyone. Least of all yourself. You care so much about this, and that’s what’s going to make you shine up there. People can tell when someone’s passionate about something.”

You can feel your heart begin to calm just a little, lulled by his closeness, his steady breathing. “I just… I’ve never felt this kind of pressure before. It feels like all these expectations are suffocating me.”

Jake tightens his hold on you, one of his hands moving to gently rub your back. “Then let me take some of that pressure off you. How about this? Tomorrow, when you’re up there, I’ll be right in the front row, smiling at you the entire time. Every time you look at me, you’ll know you’re not alone.” His voice is so sure, so steady, that for a moment, you let yourself believe it too.

You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes, and find a soft smile spreading across your face. “You really believe in me that much?”

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “More than you know. You’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, and I don’t just say that to make you feel better.” He tucks the strand behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little longer against your skin. “I know you’re scared. And that’s okay. Being nervous just means this matters to you.”

You sigh, feeling a mix of relief and lingering nerves. “What if I lose my place? What if I stammer and forget where I am?”

Jake’s hand moves to cradle your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over your skin. “Then you’ll pause, take a deep breath, and just keep going. Nobody will judge you for needing a moment.” He tilts his head, his gaze tender. “You’re human, babe. You’re allowed to not be perfect.”

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling some of the weight finally lifting. “It’s just… it’s hard to believe that everyone else will be as understanding as you.”

“Well,” he says with a playful glint in his eye, “if anyone isn’t, I’ll just have to take a stern talk with them afterward.” He winks, and you can’t help but laugh, a sound that feels freeing, even if just for a moment.

“Thanks, Jake. I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiles, leaning in and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Luckily, you don’t have to find out,” he murmurs, his lips warm against your skin. He wraps his arms around you again, pulling you into his chest as he rests his chin on top of your head. “Now, here’s the plan. You’re going to get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow, when you walk out there, you’re going to remember that you’re not alone. I’ll be right there. And when you finish, I’ll be the first one standing up, clapping my hands like a madman.”

You laugh softly, imagining Jake cheering for you in the audience, his face lit up with pride. “You’re really going to clap like a madman?”

He chuckles, nodding with a mischievous grin. “Absolutely. I might even embarrass you a little by yelling out how amazing you were.”

You shake your head, feeling the last bits of tension slip away, replaced by warmth and gratitude. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.” He kisses you again, this time on the tip of your nose, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Now, promise me you’ll at least try to sleep? You need your rest, or you’ll end up overthinking everything again.”

You nod, feeling genuinely relaxed for the first time that evening. “I’ll try. But… will you stay with me?”

He smiles, pulling the covers back and guiding you to lie down beside him. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as you nestle against his chest, his warmth surrounding you like a cocoon. “Just close your eyes, okay? And remember… you’ve got this.”

With his hand gently stroking your hair, his steady heartbeat in your ear, and his quiet, comforting presence beside you, you start to feel the last remnants of fear melt away. As you drift off, his words echo softly in your mind: You’ve got this. And somehow, with him beside you, it starts to feel like the truth.

© sjylouvre 2024, do not copy, steal, remake or brand my content as yours.

[rosenclaws]

Prompt list time!! I would LOVE a smutty #58 with sub!Eddie Alden getting railed by his 5"1 gf and being surprised at how much he likes it. (You can't tell me that Eddie wouldn't be down for at least trying pegging)

58 - “No one’s ever touched me like this, fuck.”

a/n: Full disclosure I have never written anything like this before and I'm not super into pegging myself BUT I will do my very best for you!! Please feel free to correct me or offer suggestions bc this is my first time writing this <3

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, sub!Eddie, pegging (strap on)

"Come on Eddie, you promised." You were crawling over him.

A pout on your lips and puppy dog eyes on full display. See you and Eddie may have gotten drunk one night and placed a bet at the bar below your apartment. He wins and he gets to tie you up, you win and you get to peg him.

Guess who won that night.

Eddie had never done anything like this and neither have you but you were always interested in it. Eddie usually likes to be in control, there's something tempting about giving it all up and letting you take care of him in such a personal way.

"I know baby, so eager." He kisses you softly, cupping your face as you sit in his lap. You grind your hips against his clothed cock.

"Shit." He groans as you sneak your hand below the waistband. He tries to switch positions but you snap at him. Your voice much more commanding than he's ever heard and fuck it makes him shiver.

"Lay down Eddie. Be a good boy for once." His eyes go wide as you press against his chest.

He doesn't fight it as you take control. Loving the feeling of being told what to do. He happily laps at your cunt when you sit on his face. Grinding onto his nose and taking every command and he doesn't even try to hide the whimpers when you take his cock in your mouth. Your mouth is a gift sent from the heavens he's sure of it. All of you is.

"Are you ready?" Your voice is sweet as you ask. He's on all fours and he can feel the cold touch of your lubed up fingers.

"Yeah baby," You kiss him gently as you slide a finger in.

He groans into your lips as you work him open. Keening at the praises your whisper into his ear. He needs to relax and you take your time making sure he is. Working him and whispering sweet words until he had given into the pleasure.

When he's prepped and ready you get the strap ready. It's on the smaller side but you can always work your way up. He's never felt this pleasure before. The lube is dripping down the strap onto his thighs.

The cold helps him calm down as the tip breeches his ass. He moans, burying his face in the pillows as you slowly slide in. His breaths come out in short puffs as you bottom out.

"Such a good boy Eddie, taking it so well." You run your fingers through his hair. Tugging at it and forcing his head back.

"No one’s ever touched me like this, fuck.” He moans loudly as you start to move. His back flexes as you grab onto his hips. What a sight this is. He's a disheveled, panting, moaning mess. Your normally cocky boyfriend is nothing but putty in your hands.

"Fuck fuck." He fists the sheets into his hand. You reach around and stroke his cock, adding more pleasure than he can handle. With a loud moan he comes hard. The veins in his arms popping as he grabs hard onto the sheets.

"Did so good for me baby, my pretty baby." You run your nails along his back soothingly.

Waiting until he's fully relaxed until pulling out. Eddie lays breathless on the bed. The warm fuzzy feeling making his head buzz. He smiles up at you when you climb back into bed. You pet his hair softly and kiss his forehead.

"You okay?" He nods and grins. Already planning on when you can do that again.

[di-42]

Adding what have recently become my go-to comfort fics:

The Bookseller And The Garden, rated T, 13k

Fluff, fluff, fluff! Canon divergent fiction where Crowley is a demon stationed on earth, Aziraphale is an angel stationed on earth, but they have never met until present day. There's no end of the world in sight, only an angel and a demon falling in love and not knowing how to break it to the other that they're not human. I laughed all the way through.

The Anon Before Christmas, rated E, 66k

Ah. Where to begin. Every now and then, you read a fiction that just makes you feel at home. Makes you feel like you’re in safe hands. Like you’re in for a real treat. This absolute gem has very quickly become my favourite human AU. For several reasons.  The characterisation of the two main characters is absolutely spot on. I could hear Crowley talking in DT’s Crowley voice and see him moving in DT’s Crowley way, and I could hear Aziraphale talking in MS’s Aziraphale voice and see him moving in MS’s Aziraphale way. The pace of the development of their relationship from enemies to lovers is just perfect. It’s told from Crowley’s POV and you can see how his perspective changes as the story progresses, but the writer is so good that Aziraphale’s change of perspective shows perfectly through Crowley’s POV too. The array of side characters is so good that it actually pains me to call them side characters. I wrote in one of my comments to the fiction that I will forever adore this story’s Bee, and I meant it, but Newt and Ana are equally fantastic (and I loved the other cameos too!). Also, and this is especially important to me, this story is as much a love story between Crowley and Aziraphale as it is a story of true friendship among all the characters. They look after each other, they have each other’s back, they support each other. I am so lucky and privileged to be able to see myself represented in that aspect of the story. Last but not least, this fiction doesn't overstay its welcome one bit. You are happy about how everyone ended up, but still could read more. It’s like you are part of the gang and want to know what your friends are up to. Everything in this story was perfect. I realise I haven’t mentioned what the plot is about, but hopefully by now you might want to find out for yourself!

Wrong Turn, rated T, 37k

Honestly, I don't know why this fiction touched me so much. I just couldn't stop thinking about it for days after I finished it. It's a post season 1 fiction where Crowley suddenly finds himself in a parallel universe at the time the apocalypse is just about to happen. The Crowley and Aziraphale in that universe have a different history to our Crowley and Aziraphale. All our Crowley wants to do is to go back to his universe and his very own angel, but how? As you follow the main plot and focus on Crowley's thoughts and actions, you'll start slowly feeling the other story get hold of you, and it won't let go until the very end and beyond.

Happiness, More Or Less, rated M, 21k

If you read only one story out of this list, make it this one. This human AU moved me so very much I cried. Crowley moves into his new flat in Soho, only to discover the flat in haunted by the ghost of the owner of the bookshop downstairs. I won't tell anything else about the plot other than it does have a very sweet happy ending, and it gets there via a rollercoaster of emotions. This is really one of those fictions that leave me in awe of the fandom's talent and creativity. Read it, read it, read it!

Wavelengths & Frequencies, WIP, rated E, chapters 14/?

If you feel like you're going through one of those phases where you need to curl up on a sofa with a cup of hot chocolate and something good to read, something safe and reassuring, then this fantastic fiction is for you. It's a human AU enemies-to-lovers fiction where Aziraphale and Crowley can't stand each other, but work for the same media corporation as radio DJs and have to attend charity events together. The characterisation is spot on and the humour great. And what an incredible soundtrack! I honestly can't tell you how happy each notification of a new chapter of this story makes me!

Plus my own one shots:

Angel! Angel! They're At It Again! Rated M, 5k

It's the year 2030. The world never ended. Aziraphale and Crowley are living happily and safely together as a married couple. Everything would be well, if it wasn't that lately Aziraphale has been a bit busy. A bit distracted. Now, Crowley can't have that, can he? He seeks the advice of his girlfriends, who unwittingly give him an idea on how to liven up his marriage.

A fluffy story about how we get to a certain cottage.

In Vino Ludus, rated E, 3k

It's the year 2030. Crowley comes to the bookshop drunk, and Aziraphale can finally put all those years of eye-rolling practice to good use.

An as of yet canon divergent fluffy night in the life of an angel and a demon.

Do you have any go to Good Omens comfort fics?

i got u ❤️

stockholm’s other syndrome (T, 5k): aziraphale lets himself get ‘kidnapped’ by a demon. very cute and romcommy

sit tight take hold (E, 150k): formula 1 au that got me totally into f1 while i am not even a car person. the type of au that becomes its own thing and you love escaping to it again

where a canvas blooms (T, 3k): cuddle arrangement au with SUCH gorgeous art too it’ll make you feel so warm inside

manual handling (E, 8k): massage fic. ummm can an e rated fic be a comfort fic? sure why not. definite rereading material so

let me care for you (M, 1.7k) literal comfort — crowley gets cared for

big name feelings (E, 103k): fandom au and SO well done including the art. i followed this while it posted and it was so exciting

the gift (T, 3k): short & sweet they talk about the elephant in the room

my mind holds the key (T, 3k): aziraphale wants to know who the ‘best friend’ was that crowley supposedly lost. superbly written

one night in bangor (E, 17k): a classic and great on every reread. there’s a heaven-hell mixer and omg…. the careful, exciting, fluttering flirtation

slow show (E, 95k): i know i know it’s such an obvious one to rec bc it’s so famous but genuinely one of thee best fics and a lovely reread each time. actors au

empirical study on the principles of snake care (T, 2k): sorry to be that guy but sometimes i reread my own fics and i laugh with the little jokes bc i’ve forgotten them. aziraphale tries out some snake care tips on crowley

as always: begging people to add (self) recs to this post because i’d love to know what people’s comfort fics are. please share the joy

[amourningcrow]

some thoughts on the lucanis romance. caution! spoilers

you know, i've seen a lot of people complaining about how lucanis's romance is somewhat lacking and i agree, at least a little - i can't say i enjoy the scene where you lock in his romance (could have been a banter) and i honestly didn't get that it was supposed to be a 'i'm scared of wanting you' kind of romance until the end where he actually said that (i was constantly sleep deprived while playing though, so maybe that one's on me) - but i don't really think more scenes were really necessary. i loved the last one and the one in the middle was also pretty good, even though i didn't like how scripted it was.

what i really, really miss in this are the party banters. you know, like the one with alistair and wynne, where she teases him about checking out the warden?

imagine for a moment: davrin and lucanis

'they're fine.'

'i- what?'

'they're fine. you keep staring at their legs, but the venatori barely even graced them. you can stop checking every time they climb up a rock or bend to pick something up.'

'of course! i was checking on their injury! that damn venatori, nearly got them, huh?'

... (awkward silence)

'right.'

oooor maybe taash and lucanis?

'you're not being subtle, you know'

'excuse me?'

'saw you sneaking in with rook's favourite food yesterday.'

'so? i make everyone's favourite every once in a while.'

'not in the middle of the night just after they tell you, you don't'

... (stony silence)

'yeah'

ooooor i dunno, harding and lucanis?

'lucanis?'

'hmmm?'

'it would be okay, you know. if you liked someone and told them how you feel. hypothetically.'

'what? what are you talking about?'

'nothing. i just... thought someone should tell you.'

'mierda, harding, there's no one like that. so this is completely irrelevant.'

'hmhm, sure. but in theory, if there was... i'm pretty sure they like you, too. and you both deserve to be happy.'

i'm obviously not a writer, but i really think some stuff like that would have helped to set up the romance more. i tried so desperately to look through the game and find something, and maybe i just haven't discovered it yet! but the few banters i did find were all after the relationship was officially established. i don't know. i'm really disappointed because i think the potential was there, it could have been such a sweet, angsty slow-burn but they just.. didn't set it up right? the yearning™ feeds on other people seeing exactly what is going on and rolling their eyes at the idiots involved not getting on with it (/getting it on lmao). maybe something like that was planned but they had to cut it because all the companions had to get their 'making it official' chat at the same time? and pretty late in the game, too. that would sort of explain why his relationship with neve was more fleshed out as well. idk. that and my added frustration that i can't really roleplay my rook the way i want (in my roleplaying game) probably means i'll just have to write some stuff myself. and wait for someone to search through the audio files so i can get my grubby raccoon hands on all the banter i didn't hear yet 🤞

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

I gotcha, dawg.

Well, there's lots I could say here, but perhaps the easiest thing to address is you yourself saying you want to remain anonymous so as not to get "in trouble" - I presume from Democrat Tumblr users(?)

In a democracy, you shouldn't have to be frightened to say who you voted for or the concerns you have about an election.

This present climate of fear of saying the wrong thing or using the wrong pronoun or is one of the things I find most refreshing about the Trump train: he's the only mainstream politician in America openly pushing back against Wokeness - which is a 21st rebranding of Political Correctness - which is in turn a perversion of the word "correct" to mean "in line with present party policy" that first appears in Chairman Mao's Little Red Book. Also the only U.S. mainstream politician against the present transgender madness (the castration, sterilization and brainwashing of children) and open borders. These are very commonsense positions necessary for any nation's survival that have massively widespread support amongst the majority of ordinary people, but no-one else in government was doing anything to represent them.

It took an outsider not in the pocket of the donors who own the arms companies and the oil companies and the media companies and the pharmaceutical companies and so on to actually push back against the status quo and have a thick-enough skin and good humour to not back down. That's who Trump is. Yes he's a flawed and sometimes buffoonish-like figure, but the fact that he is a bullheaded businessman has meant he's been able to look at America as an enterprise in decline that needs fixing and overhauling to make "great" again, and just charge through the red tape to do whatever actually needs doing.

The first Trump presidency was a time of democrats and other hysterical left-wing activists burning, looting and rioting in America, but on the global stage it was a time of relative peace: Trump invaded no country or started any new wars (the way Biden did only 6 weeks into his presidency), and there's no reason to think he will this time round either. He did nothing to incite the very silly January 6th free tour of the Capitol Building, but for telling people to be peaceful and go home he - the sitting president - was silenced and booted from every social media platform.

So much was made this election over abortion rights - and I myself have always been pro-choice - but he didn't (and has repeatedly stated he won't) ban abortion but simply made it an issue that individual states can decide for themselves, which makes sense given the range of opinions on that matter in different parts of the country. It's probably my least favourite aspect of his policies, but the fact that such a relatively trivial matter was placed front and center in the Democrats' campaign and all that the hosts of The View and other female media dross could talk about for a year just tells you how shockingly debased and distracted political discourse has become in the west.

I could go on, but rather than addressing one claim after another, I would suggest you simply make a list of all the things you can recall the media and the democrats claiming Trump has said or done, and then go look up the original unedited videos that the out of context soundbites have been taken from, and then ask yourself whether what they presented you with seems a fair and unbiased representation of any individual, and whether it seems reasonable to trust the people who relentlessly deceived you in this way. That would do more to broaden your point of view than anything I could say.

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-seven | out of the grave, into the woods.

It’s September 9th, and two days have passed since Percy. Chiron tells you to have hope; maybe he escaped before the place went kaboom. You didn’t see a body, so you should keep the hope alive. You viciously respond that no, there wouldn’t be a body if it was blown to a million pieces, would there?

You eat more than you ever have. The week that passed in the maze had been particularly busy, so much so you’d scarcely had time to eat anything proper. It’s nice to stuff your face, sitting with Annabeth in comfortable silence.

Everyone knows. Everybody knows what happened, by September 9th. Chiron holds a small meeting and explains exactly what happened to the others. Some suggest sending searchers down into the maze to continue what you couldn’t, but Chiron declines the suggestion under the excuse that it’s too dangerous as of late. Percy will turn up eventually, he concludes.

“Have faith,” he sighs, looking around the room. His eyes land on you, where you sit with folded arms and bloodshot eyes nestled between Annabeth and Travis.

It’s hard to do when your mother refuses to answer your prayers. You pray every night for Grover and Percy’s safe return, all week, every morning. You beg any god that will listen to just grant you this one thing, and allow Percy to still be breathing. A tense week passes, and at the week mark—September 14th—since you came out of the maze, hope is beginning to wane. You see it in Chiron’s face with every falsely enthusiastic speech, and in your friends. Annabeth helps you to make a new weapon in the armoury, a lean, light sword made of celestial bronze. You’re working on convincing one of the other campers to charm it to make it smaller, taking inspiration from Riptide. Convenience is key.

By September 15th, people have lost hope. A whole week of people trying to come home should have shown some signs, at least. Another week passes, with no such luck. And then a third. You barely move from the Big House, not really feeling much up to participating in activities and practice fights. You’re just getting into reading a new book, scrunched up in the chair on the porch, when Chiron approaches you, with a solemn look on his face.

“Another book?” He tries for a smile. You see right through him, raising your eyes above the line of your book. There seem to be more stress lines under his eyes. “That’s the third this week alone.”

You raise it a little higher. “I like reading. You can get lost in books pretty easy.”

“I like a good read myself,” he admits. “Maybe not three six-hundred-pagers a week, though.”

Now, you do smile. Just a little.

“I didn’t come here just to halt your peace, my dear. I wanted to talk to you about Percy, and Grover.”

Of course. It’s all anybody wants to talk about with you.

You snap shut the book and pay Chiron all your attention. “Okay.”

He eyeballs the ground for a second. “I think it’s time that we begin to build up a burial shroud for Percy, and begin the proceedings for Grover. Three weeks is…it is unlikely for them to come back to us now. A week, a week and a half at most, is the usual waiting time for heroes to return. I’ve seen this many times before, my dear. Three weeks is too long. It’s time we pay our respects to our friends.”

It’s a hard pill to swallow. You feel your heart stammer in the ribcage, tiny shooting pains going haywire. You’ve had these pains all of three weeks—Chiron calls them a reaction to stress, and grief. It’s why he encouraged so much rest, so little training. Your eyes fill with strong tears and your throat thickens.

“Okay,” you manage. A leaded weight pulls your innards down, and something else grinds them together. You feel overcome with hopelessness, a feeling alike deep and terrible sadness, gut-wrenching. You only want to cry until you can’t cry anymore.

“As Percy’s longest friend,” he continues with a hard swallow, “I wanted to ask you personally, if you’d like to create his burial shroud. As an honor to him.”

You want, in that moment, your dad. You want the comfort of a parent, even though you know you won’t get so much as a hug from him. You want home.

You ask Annabeth to help you in making Percy’s burial shroud. A heaviness settles over camp the next day, and everyone you talk to or pass by offers you a sympathetic look, a hand on the shoulder. Together, you pick out sea-green fabric, and tie in some gentle details of deeper greens and little dashes of blue. You find it in yourself to delve bravely into his left-behind cabin, and dig a seashell from the wall beside the statue of his father. It’s a creamy-pale colour, and lined with streaks of red and pale peach, engrained with bits of sand like it had just come directly from the beach. You weave a few into the fabric until your fingers are sore and pricked with blood. It’s all very factual, death and its proceedings. You find yourself zoning out, staring at the soft material in your hands and thinking of absolutely nothing, at times. Annabeth gently says your name, and pulls the needle from your bloody finger. It takes all day to make it perfect, but you finally complete the burial shroud, and tie it off with a pretty bit of creme ribbon and sea rope.

For Grover, it’s different, and Annabeth carries this one forward better than you because she’d known him for a long time, a hell of a lot longer than you knew Grover. She sits down on the sofa, and almost tears the earthy-green and gold fabric with how forcefully she grips it. Annabeth acts normally, but her lip trembles. She presses them together to stop it, reaching out to the table between you both for the needle.

By evening, just as the sun is going down and the sky is burning orange, you’re finished with Percy’s shroud, and Annabeth is finished with Grover’s. They’re not due to be burned until tomorrow evening, but Chiron said it was in everybody’s best interests to finish them sooner rather than later. It would make the process of burning them a lot easier to handle, apparently. You’re but a second away from blowing up, taking action with screaming and hacking at the strawberry fields; so, anything to lighten the situation, really.

“We should really get some food before curfew,” Annabeth set aside Grover’s shroud. “C’mon. They’ll be looking for us if we don’t turn up, and you know what Travis has been like, worrying this week.”

You huff a short laugh. “Guy hasn’t stopped.”

It was true. He’d been so attentive to your every want and thought that you felt somewhat guilty for dropping him the way you had done to accompany Percy into the maze. You felt like such a terrible friend, recently. But if Travis was holding it against you, he didn’t show it a bit. Ever the selfless.

Your stomach growls painfully, prompting you to stand and hold Percy’s shroud for another second or so, before dropping it safely next to Grover’s. The silky material slips from your fingers and hits the table carefully. The clock above the door tells you it’s nearly seven o’clock at night, and you haven’t eaten a thing since breakfast.

Annabeth is long gone by the time you force yourself to leave the room. You can see her in the distance, walking to the dining pavilion. You stop against a wall, breathing deeply and exhaling heavily, just taking in the air. It smells of pine trees and strawberries, and something warm. The sky is burnt orange and lined with golden clouds. An otherwise perfect evening, if you weren’t hearing Grover’s voice in the back of your mind.

He’s shouting your name, so distantly it feels like he isn’t even there at all. You wish you could help him. His voice grows louder, and closer. You begin up the hill just as you hear breathing—hard, heaving breathing like the person it’s coming from has ran a marathon.

You spin, somewhat startled, and your jaw drops so hard you think it might have landed in Tartarus. “G—GROVER?!” He’s really here. Really! With sweaty hair, missing a sleeve of his jacket, but he’s here in person. Grover is alive. “Holy cows. Holy cows. Holy cows—”

“I did pray to some holy cows, actually,” he nods out of breath. Grover puts his hands on his hips, tilting his head back. The sun is setting very quickly, and really it’s nothing special tonight compared to every other night, but to Grover, it must be amazing.

All the breath he gets back in his lungs is swiftly knocked right back out again. You lunge for him, the relief falling like a heaviness from your shoulders. Grover is a little bonier under your hugging arms than the last time you were together, but he’s in one piece and here in front of you, and it’s more than you could ask for given the circumstances.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you breathe. With your heart beating ten-to-the-dozen, it’s difficult to discern whether you’re about to have a heart attack, or if you’re developing some sort of condition from all the scares. “Really. It’s good to see you.”

He’s shocked. Of course he is; you’ve barely shown even camaraderie towards Grover before. You think it might be time to change your tune.

“I wasn’t sure you’d gotten out,” he sighed, pulling back. “I’m so sorry for leaving the two of you, but look—I found him. I really did. I found Pan.”

You blanch. Not solely from his insinuation that both you and Percy got out, but that he found what he’d been looking for. You can’t help smiling.

“Really? You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent!”

“We should go tell Chiron, then.”

Heaviness settles in your gut the closer you get to the dining pavilion. You figured that’s where Chiron will be—eating like nothing’s wrong. You haven’t eaten properly in days.

Everybody is seated by the time you arrive. Chiron is, as you’d guessed, at the table and eating as well. It must be the movement from the corner of his eye that turns his head to face you, and it’s a result: he sees Grover; tired, drooping-at-the-shoulders Grover. Chiron stands so abruptly that the table shrieks, the legs scraping against the floor, and campers groan and cover their ears, turning to face the commotion. They follow the leader’s direction, and see him too. The sky is burning, the clouds on fire, and fire in the heart flickers.

A great deal of clamour comes next. It’s all very factual, in the after. They yell Grover’s name and people come running, some in relief, some in disbelief, and some in excitement.

He eats his heart out at the head table, and nobody bothers him. You sit together and for a little while you laugh. Annabeth smiles so hard her cheeks must hurt, and the three of you manage to relieve the last few days and weeks with some joy, especially now Grover has found what he’d been looking for.

It doesnt change the fact that you go to bed with a heavy heart and a sorrowful stomach, and don’t get a wink of good sleep, tossing and turning until the cows come home. When morning comes, you’re sore-eyed and sore of heart, dressing in jeans and a sweatshirt despite the warmth of camp itself. On a day where all eyes will be on you, it’s comforting to feel somewhat sheltered by sleeves and neckline.

You don’t eat breakfast, though your stomach grumbles and whines, and you can barely manage to get a glass of apple juice down. People are casting you looks from every table, because they all know what you’re about to do. After all, his burial shroud is only metres away, folded neatly in a small box before the open fire pit.

Finally, after breakfast of little words to anybody, Chiron smiles somewhat skewedly and directs everyone to crowd at the pit. A few girls from the Aphrodite cabin are crying crocodile tears, pretending they’re oh-so-sad over the loss of Percy, though they haven’t spoken to him before, or if they have—only to ridicule him for tripping during track, or letting an arrow fly too early. Silly little things really, that make Percy, Percy. And you miss him.

You barely notice that Chiron is speaking until he’s finished. The soft blue is in your hands, palms up to the sky. You hope they’re watching.

It smells of smoke that will stick to your hair and clothes, of flames that burn your hands even this far out. Orange, yellow, and wicked red all dancing together in the grate like it’s a terrible little party just for Percy.

You have to clear your throat out hard, it having been in disuse since yesterday. Sets of eyes are on you, big and waiting. A few Aphrodite girls are pulling sneering expressions, because they’re not fans of other girls being the centre of attention.

“Uh—well,” you start, wondering why on earth you hadn’t prepared something earlier. There’s a hard lump in your throat, rolling around and around and around and you think you might choke on it. “Percy was my best friend. He meant a lot to all of us, a great deal, actually. I can’t think of one moment where Percy…”

And suddenly you can’t think at all. There’s pressure behind your eyes burning away like the fire in the grate. Your stomach hurts because you’re so hungry you’re starving. The brain fog because of this is alarming, and you can feel the casual facade start to falter. Why can’t you find the words.

You cough a jarring laugh. Annabeth whispers your name from just the front row, moving to get in your line of vision, concerned. She’s upset but she’s holding it together much better than you are.

The blue in your hands is beginning to absorb the sweat from your skin. “Percy was…there are no words. I think his actions said more, anyway, if I’m honest. Truth be told,” you finally look up from your shaking hands, “truth be told, those of us who knew Percy properly already knew that. Percy was just—”

When you lift your eyes just behind the crowd, you begin to notice something strange. A figure. A boy, in immaculate clothing and tanned like he’d just spent a week at the beach. His shirt is ironed and crisp, and a thin circle of white shells is clasped around a wrist.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Annabeth urges. Her voice shakes when she carefully pulls you aside. “You don’t have to do this. It isn’t fair.”

But your eyes are stuck glued to the boy getting closer, so close that you can make out the green of the eyes you’d recognise absolutely anywhere.

“He’s right there.”

“I know, it’s fine, I can take this.”

She attempts to pry the material from you, but you’re not having it. Clenched in your fists, you nod to the distance, as the lightheaded feeling grows.

“Percy’s here. Percy’s here.”

Heads turn. Bodies shift. Chiron moves through the crowd and pales considerably because he sees what you see. At last, people gasp, people yell out, people rush forward to surround him. But he only has eyes for you, and they’re glossy ones at that.

Your head spins. “Dear god, I think I need to sit down.”

And indeed, down you go.

—

This chapter’s title is taken from the song ‘the let go’ by Elle King. https://youtu.be/RcnUJTIyjXs?si=HO1lzccJfsaF6SbQ (1.18 seconds)

Taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcillia @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite @randomesthings @fratbrochrisgf @prongsflower @bugszi

[xanderjkz]

Knox Overstreet- Fixing the problem of a kind boy

I like fucking love the concept of Knox's character and the message he portrays but holy shit they really fucked up when it came to the execution. Both in the movie AND book (ESPECIALLY there). This fandom takes its time to reconstruct his character to be likeable. But how would this actually play out in a better-constructed storyline for this dude with girl problems?

Well, that's the answer I would like to answer today

Knox in the official dead poets media

Like every poet in the movie Spotlight, Knox comes from a family that's enforcing the path of a lawyer. His father is one, which is how his storyline even starts. He is invited to the Danbury's because his dad helped the only responsible and well-mannered dude in the house. And in that same scene, they literally tell us that people expect him to be a lawyer. So there's this kind of pressure.

But not really because we never get to see that side of Knox in the movies where he clearly states that he doesn't like the path people chose for him. All he has is girls problems.

Which is sad considering that he could be so much more

But then we'd have to extend the movie by about 1 hour and that would make it unenjoyable because this movie is perfect because of the pacing they chose. It's fast and yet slow and kinda counts down to Neil's suicide in a way that gets stuck. Because he is one of the main characters and most scenes should be with him. Not with Knox considering if his life expectancy is okay.

So is there any extra scenes in the book?

...yeah no

"But how do we solve this issue with knox's awful storyline?"

Rewrite the book and hope for the best.

Since I'm an author myself I know that writing often gets complicated when your creative streak is gone but since I'm an author I'd solve it this way:

Keep the Chris storyline

Let that boy be problematic, let him make mistakes but not once that deeply traumatises someone like SEXUALLY ASSULTING someone. Knox is the message bringer of the bad side of carpe Diem. Sometimes seizing the day will make things worse because you didn't think it through. That's a great message to bring across, I mean how many 16-year-olds make mistakes that we thought were okay? A lot, and he is the one who made the mistake in the story.

"So how would you change his mistake?"

The storyline reinvented

He meets Chris like usual

Look he didn't fuck up here in the slightest. I too would be stuttering if I met a beautiful girl. And him meeting her through the Danbury clearly shows the problem he has to date Chris. It's classic anyway

Cut the bike scene and use his sister instead

From what I gathered his sister goes to the same school as Chris (can be mistaken but for this story she does! ) so he uses her to kinda pry into Chris's life and find things out. It is problematic if he literally implies stalking her but c'mon, at least someone in the Overstreet family has common sense and only observes in the distance...right? Besides who doesn't use their siblings for their advantages? Plus it brings depth to that mean. Seeing how he treats his sister could indicate his behaviour with people extremely close to him.

Let him attempt the party but be extremely obnoxious

That's what he's best at

His nickname is literally knoxious. But what the hell do I mean by being obnoxious? Let that boy not leave Chris's side. Why? Because that sets up his mistake. Being attached to someone's hip can be extremely uncomfortable and with Chet's provoke able (?) ass this can go wrong fast. (Also we can't forget that Chris is the one being played around like an object in this and this should be his biggest mistake as we do not treat anyone like that, especially women!) But what would be the breaking point for CHRIS and Chet and the thing where he decides that "carpe diem" is good to use (even tho it's not)?

HE DANCES WITH CHRIS

Okay, instead of him being an ass and kissing Chris, he's an ass and dances with her. He was under the influence when he made both decisions which isn't an excuse but something that pushed him towards it. Because Knox in his most sober self wouldn't even talk properly to her.

So, some lame-ass song from the 50s is playing and he grabs her hand. Maybe she danced with someone else and he stole her. Considering that the tension between Chris and Knox is already uncomfortable, this would bring it to the maximum. Chris (as the beautiful woman she is) would try to use this moment to finally talk about his behavior so he lets her go. And the moment he finally talks chet comes in.

This small synopsis is weak but let's be honest, no one would read a whole ass script abt this.

Anyway

Chet comes in, the situation becomes way out of control and the only person getting extremely hurt is Chris. As she was toyed around by Knox and Chet. So she leaves the party prematurely (as she should, take care of yourselves) and Knox returns to Welton with the same bloody nose as in the movie

He goes directly to her house

Him doing so is a direct response to his failure. Between the party and them talking he needs to reflect on his failures and feel genuine guilt. It sucks that he can only do so once he gets punched but at least he has the mind to realise that.

But Chris isn't that easy to talk to. Obviously, this whole thing made her feel weird and sad so she avoided both of them. When he goes up to her house and gets rejected? He talks with Keating.

Mentor Keating

Not only would this solidify his last scene in the movie more but it also gives them a connection more than Keating humiliating him. Okay, but can we fit this into the movie? Not the conversation but he could easily fit it into the scene where he returns to Welton after talking to her.

"What would Keating tell him?"

The same thing he told Neil. Honesty.

Fate decides itself in the decisions you make and Knox knows that lies won't wrap her around his fingers. So maybe honesty carries them to a state where they can be friends.

So his masterplan gets made and it's the most trope-st shit you can think of.

Throwing a rock in the night at her sweet sweet window

Why did I think of this? Well, do you like the scenery of how he originally apologised and made everybody look at her?

At least it's at night so fewer people look and it would show us the skills he earned from sneaking off bc of the poet's meetings. Thus showing the audience more connection to the group. Plus at night people are mostly at their most vulnerable time and it would get Chris to talk.

But what would they talk about?

Considering that he finally saw the wrong parts of his obsession with her, he would give her the space to express her discomfort to its fullest after he of course apologises. But I think Chris wouldn't even express herself to the fullest because she has sympathy for him. She understands that loving someone can make you sick and twisted when you're a teenager but she is still her flesh and mind who clearly didn't want it to cause her relationship to break.

She might not express the worst anger that comes with something like this but she still expressed her sorrow in this mess. And Knox listens and sees the wrong in his actions. He doesn't need to justify himself because no justification could make this play in his favour. And when all is said and done, she forgives him for being so damn obnoxious.

But she doesn't like him in the way Knox wishes her to feel. And knox needs to learn to accept it. Like we all do

The story progresses without knox getting what he wants

Through this whole story he went through, we as viewers get the message that even if you apologise, it's up to the victim of your actions to give you what you want. And throughout the film, I never even got the notion that Chris has an interest in Knox. Hell, they don't even talk that much to build a conclusion on their goddamn relationship before he kissed her. He sets the message of a "Carpe Diem" gone wrong. After that, he is a reminder of us humans and our way of going through those problems you cause.

There are probably better ways of doing his arc, heck give him a different one. I mean he has potential. Maybe he's better off once the group splits or maybe he isn't.

But the way he is in the movie is a horrible portrayal of romance. I get it, the script is from the 80s but c'mon you're allowed to admit that it's bad.

Well, there's nothing we can really do, the movie in itself is an art and should be viewed as it. It fits into the zeitgeist of past generations and our present ones. I love the movie but if I had to change one storyline it would always be Knox oversteet's

Btw can be talk about how stupid his fucking name is? Who names their child Knox? With the last name OVERSTREET

[keelt9]

OPIUM POPPY

Masterlist

This is nuts, I never in my whole life have I’ve seen so many pumpkins in a short period of time, I mean in 15 minutes. 

I totally forgot the first week of October Lilian receives like every year a full load of pumpkins from a local farm, for sale on halloween. It was until early morning a big truck parked in front of the florist’s full of pumpkins.

“The back room is full, I think we should put it here.” Gael said, coming out of the room full of orange fruits. “Don’t worry, it's normal, relax.” 

I nod as I keep signing the paper of receipt; between the bouquets, pumpkins start to take place.

The sound of the door makes me realize that yes, customers will be coming along with the pumpkins. 

“Hi, I’ll be there in a pumpkin.” The scoff of Gael makes me correct myself. “In a second, I’ll be with you in a second.”

“This will be over in four days.” Gael jokes with me walking around the place trying to put in order all the pumpkins.

“Days?!” Gael carried another pumpkin to the back room.

“So, all are here.” I get down my head trying to figure out who four days can become, at least in two.

“Everybody here knows, huh?” The soft giggles sound familiar now, turning around I see Joe arm cross but with a smile.

“Lilian let us know a few days earlier pumpkins are coming.” I curse underneath seeing the last pumpkin enter the florist’s. 

Gael greeted Joe in total calm with a bouquet in his hands. Mental note, asking him why he didn’t say anything the first few days I was here about Joe.

“This is about to be smashed, where do you want it?” A small opium poppy bouquet is safe in his hands, I was working on that before the pumpkin rain interrupted.

I looked around beside the bouquets in their places, it wasn’t any empty spot. 

“I’ll take it.” Joe answered by taking the bouquet looking around to the orange room. “And my pumpkins.” 

Making Gael and I laugh. “Are you leaving my heartsease?” This time Joe laughs so hard. 

“Just for a while.” I chuckle taking the bow to put the ribbon around it, meanwhile Gael takes the 5 big pumpkins to Joe’s car.

“I haven’t seen you in days, you get the number?” This time I chose a yellow ribbon.

Joe clears his throat and a big smile appears on his face, good news. “I did.”

“And?” I give it to him one more time, but he licks his lips. “No way! You haven’t texted her, right?”

“It’s not that easy. What could I tell her?” Joe complains, raising his shoulders. 

I cross my arms. “Who could tell? Joe Burrow it’s a shy guy after all.” The loud bump of Gael's arm distracts us for a second. 

“I’m fine! I don’t see the wall.” Joe and I laughed seeing Gael carrying the last pumpkin. 

I think for a second when Collin's message gives an idea. “What about if you tell her about your day?”

Joe scoffs seeing the flowers. “My day?” 

“Hey! If you tell her, maybe she will tell you about hers. I bet you don’t have a boring life.” Joe laughs softly as he puts his hands on his waist. “I don’t know, the good one on this it’s Lilian, you should have asked her when she was here.” 

One more time the door opens, this time the Hunter twins arrive with big eyes running when they see the pumpkin ocean.

“Mom, it’s time!” Mrs. Hunter smiles knowing that maybe her shop of flowers will turn in a car full of pumpkins. 

“I’ll leave you, thanks for the advice.” Joe jokes as we walk to the exit. “I’ll send you a photo after I finish my work of art.” 

He points to the 5 big pumpkins in his car. “I count on that.” 

It was a long day, a lot of pumpkins are still around, it seems we barely reached clean the front of the florist’s. Gael came from the back room tired as I was ready to go home. 

“Do you need help tomorrow for the small ones?” I choke with my sip of water.

“Small ones?!” Gael jokes and explains to me, the first day the big pumpkins arrived and the next the small ones, less than big ones. “Omg!”

“I’ll come tomorrow morning, have a good night boss.” Gael said, walking with his backpack to the exit as he picked his big pumpkin.

On my way to Lilian’s apartment a message from a strange number appears on the screen. Joe sent a photo of one of his big pumpkins, a scary face on it, set in his front door.

I thought if with the frequency of his messages increasing I’ll probably not see him so much, to be honest it’s way much easier, order flowers than come to pick it up, but no; his 3 day visit continues with the same excitement as always. 

“Ok, ok, wait for a second.” I stretch my arms and hands.

When Lilian knows that I have a local full of pumpkins and there aren't any of them on our door, she calls every morning, afternoon and night until I agree I’ll try my best to put at least one. 

In all my life, yes, I decorated pumpkins but my mom and dad, even Collin, are in charge of taking out all the pulp and giving it a proper form, until today.

Reason why, I’ll call my dad early this morning to guide me through this.

“We’re almost there honey, just one eye and a nose and it will be over.” Dad had his cup of coffee next to him as he finished his third pumpkin. 

“I 100% prefer painting them.” After a week, the florist’s is empty of pumpkins, with halloween in 3 days, you start to see kids with costumes from early hours.

One more hour and I finally finished one pumpkin. “We can start the other when you feel ready.”

I shake my head taking out the gloves as I scoff. “Lilian said one, there is one.” 

Dad laughs as he smiles softly at me. “One kid far away and the other ready to go.” 

Lately with me away from home and Collin next to do it too, our parents turn into really sentimental people.

The sound of the door announced the first customer of the day. “I have to go, thanks dad.” 

He smiles waving his hand before hanging out.

I found Joe with his bag in his hand and sunglasses on, making me smile. The Bengals have a game in Las Vegas. 

“You know, there are barely a few sunlights.” He laughs as I point to his sunglasses. “I guess you’re leaving early, huh?” 

Joe nods. “We do. And you’re covered in orange.” I look down at a lot of pumpkin on me.

“I just made horrible things to a pumpkin.” He laughs as he is searching for something in his bag. “I sadly guess, there is no bouquet today, huh?”

“I’m afraid don’t but…” He smiled when he found it in his bag. “Here.”

A small pumpkin painted in gray an black, it’s squidward. 

“Oh my God! This is amazing.” I observed utterly fascinate. 

“It’s for you.” My brain stops working for more than a second. “You said you need one, so, I’ll hope it works.”

I feel so flattered for a pumpkin. “Whoa, hm, thank you, thank you so much.” Joe smiles grow bigger after seeing me smiling. 

“Well, mhm I have to go, I’ll see you when I come back.” I nod unable to say another word as he walks out of the place.

Until I see an orange opium poppy on the desk. “Joe!” He stops outside of the florist’s; with a tremble on my hands I give him the flower. “Who dey.” 

Joe chuckles and I could swear I see him blushing.

Halloween approached in a blink of an eye, suddenly it's Halloween morning; people with costumes since the very first hours of the morning, kids running all over the streets excited for the night and another just with a small item of Halloween in their clothes.

“In your house?!” Gael screamed from the backroom, he just arrived. “You can come with me.”

I chuckled as I took a last review to the orders of the day. “Take your boss to a Halloween party? No, I will pass.”

Since yesterday night when I told him I'll be resting at home on Halloween night he keeps complaining that I should go to a bar for a drink instead of spending the night in Lilian's house.

“Besides I have candies to give, a lot of them.” I bought a lot of bags of candy. If I plan to be at home, kids will be coming too.

Gael came out with a few flowers for a bouquet. “At least do a proper horror movie marathon.”

“Count with that.” I pat his arm. “It's all right, I'm exhausted after all, don't forget this is all new for me.”

Gale bluffs as a customer gets inside picking up the first bouquet of the day.

The day passed with more movement than I expected. After midday, kids started rushing asking for “trick or treat”, people looking for bouquets and another for a specific type of flowers for their costumes.

Gael leaves earlier, he has a party to go and the night is here.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” I jumped and screamed as I turned around finding a big mask of an alien.

Joe takes out the mask giggling. “Happy Halloween!” 

With my hand on my chest I shake my head. “What are you doing here? You should be with your girl at a party or something like that.”

Joe blushes, repeating the same words. <My girl.> “She has to work, so she will probably be tired, I don't want to rush anything.”

I smile proudly. “Whoa, I'm gladly surprised, how thoughtful. Still you have a party right?”

He has a mask and a strange UFO suit. After a big win, they came back that same night. Joe told me some of the guys want to be here to spend Halloween with their families.

“I do, one of the guys is making one.” Joe looks around his eyes and stops in the small pumpkin on the desk smiling.

“Hey, great game. I heard you crushed the other team.” I said looking for a ribbon for the last bouquet of the day.

“You heard? You didn’t watch it?” His disbelieving tone made me close my eyes and smile.

“You played the same hour as San Francisco. I can't help it.” I put the ribbon when I lifted my eyes; Joe is biting his lip kind of indecisive. “Are you ok?”

“You know, there is a big divisional game next week…” He lifts his head rubbing his neck.

“Yeah, the Steelers.” I nod fitting for not blushing like a tomato in front of him, the uncountable times I see the videos and pictures of this now so vividly in front of me.

“YES!” He clears his throat. “And… San Francisco has his bye week.”

Never fails to make me laugh. “I know.”

“What about if you watch it?” Joe asks but his eyes are closed. 

“Yeah, sure.” His eyes open right away, looking for something in his jacket.

“In the Stadium.” It's two tickets for Sunday's game. 

I take them, opening my eyes so big. “Are you joking?” Clearly exciting for the invitation. Looking in detail it's first row tickets. “No way!” 

“I mean you could bring someone if you want.” It's hard to contain the thrill even when he knows the only person I could bring is Gael. 

“So funny.” I look at the tickets then at him who has a soft smile. “I'll go, count on that!”

Joe was about to speak but my excitement came with a big hug. “Thanks Joe.”

He tense for a moment but a second later, I feel his arms around me in a warm hug.

“Is there a chance I will meet the mysterious girl?” I asked, slipping apart.

Joe cheeks turned red and whispers almost inaudible, and I’m not sure if I could hear. “I think you already did.”

My phone started to sound, Collin is calling. 

“Sorry, it's my brother I have to pick up.” Joe shakes his head, taking his mask.

“I have to go too. I'll see you in the week before the game, ok?” Joe almost crashed into the wall of the entrance.

“Careful.” He smiles in a shy way. “I'll be here, believe me.” He nods, walking out with a fist tight.

I didn’t have to ask Gael twice to come with me, still he gives the same friendly recommendation. “Making friends outside of the florist's it’s a good option.”

Late at night the day before the game I received the call from Lilian, with good news, if things go as planned they’ll be here the second week of december. 

“That’s great!” Lilian laughs. “I mean, I'm having a great time here but you know, I'm happy for you…”

“And…” She asked as she kept preparing her clothes for breakfast with Jason’s friends. 

“Well, I don’t mind being less involved in hand work.” Meanwhile I was taking out my shopping from this afternoon.

“I bet a lot of pe…” She stops everything and looks right to me. “Hold on, hold on, what do you have there?” 

I see the last things I take out, a bag of chips, a scarf and a beanie. “What?”

“The black, orange beanie.” She points at the camera like she knows where I put it.

“Oh, this.” I raise the beanie, the beanie has a orage-white nine on the middle of it. “Right, I forgot to tell you, Joe invited me to the game, tomorrow's game.” 

I'm aware of the corners of my lips going up. 

“Right.” Lilian has a title head and narrow eyes, like I have something more to tell. “Are you going with h…”

“God! Lilian you’re making this awkward, I’ll invite Gael to come with me; Joe just invited me and gave me the tickets.” I shiver at her mind making a whole story that fast. 

“Sorry! You put all the things for me to start to make my own theories.” She looks more relieved going back to her task.

“He has a girl he likes! OMG! We've been talking about that!” I stand walking to the kitchen to make dinner.

“I know! But… I thought that girl might be you!” I heard Jason asking if everything was alright, he heard the screams. “Fine, Y/N and I we’re having a talk.”

I giggle, imagining Jason nod as he comes out slowly for the bedroom, he has seen and heard our talks so he knows we tend to raise our voices. 

“See, even you scare Jason.” I chuckle seeing her face turning red. “Whatever I have to go.” 

Lilian nods, taking her phone so she can whisper something. “Have fun with…”

I hang out laughing at how imaginative she could be most of the time.

Sunday morning, I found Gael waiting for me one hour before the game started. Honestly I wouldn't mind coming on time, either I don’t mind seeing Joe a little bit more.

“All I’m saying is these are pretty good seats.” I followed Gael through the corridors of the stadium until we came out. “See, just behind the touchdown line.”

Our seats were a few distance from the middle of the touchdown line, having an amazing view of the field, and soon of the game. On the field the players from both teams are finishing their warm ups, going to the locker room and getting ready for the ceremony.

“You know what would be crazy?” Gael said as we sat marveling at the view we had. “They walk right for that hallway.” He points to the big entrance a few meters from us.

I scoff taking a picture for sending to Collin who I bet will burn for this. “Wait, I thought you had already come to a game before.”

Gael nods. “But not this close. These seats at this time of the season are expensive.”

His words trigger something on my mind. “Joe has a box here, right?” He nods and points to where it’s. 

Even from a distance I see a few people there and I keep wondering if the mysterious girl is here too. I am dying to meet her. 

“You think you can get us a pass for that?” He raises and lowers his eyebrows making me laugh.

My words get stuck when I see Joe walking to the other side of the field, he finishes his warm ups, fully concentrates; takes a few minutes to sing and greet the fans near that zone. 

“Damn it! So close.” I chuckle, Gael complains like he didn’t see him at least once at time in the store.

A balling game, what you heard it could be a game of few points turn on the ball coming on going to the other side of the field.

Related to the ideas of Lilian still lingering on my head I almost could swear that in a touchdown Joe approached way too much to zone where we are. 

By the end of the game, Bengals win for a touchdown; we remain until the last players left the field, waving our hands to Joe who left after answering some questions. 

On our way to take a bus, I received a text from Joe; he asked if I could bring a bouquet of opium puppies in an hour when all the duties of the game ended. 

Gael offers to come with me to the florist’s and go back with me but it’s Sunday, I’ll be able to handle this. 

“What does it mean?” Gael asked me to give him the last flower. “The flower.”

“Peace and hope.” He nods. “Why?”

Gael opened his mouth but closed it again. “Nothing, it’s just… Nevermind, my tricky mind.”

“Are you sure?” I put the bow in the middle. 

He nods. “You think you’ll meet the girl today?” Gael asked, sitting on the chair.

I don’t know who's more excited, him or me. “I’m counting on that.”

Joe gave indications for which part of the stadium I must get in, so I just followed instructions when I found a girl at the door, just like he said.

“Hi, I…” The girl smiles at me like she found a treasure.

“Y/N, right?” I nod and extend the bouquet to give it to her but she shakes her head. “Oh, no, Joe asked us to let you come, this way please.”

I follow her seeing players coming out tired but clearly excited for going home with their families and a home win.

“Wait, wait.” A big guy stops us looking at me with narrow eyes. “Cute girl, with flowers and… “ His eyes turn wide open. “Y/N?”

I take a step back, surprised by he actually knows my name, the girl giggles but doesn't say another word. 

Ja’mar who was walking behind him, eyes on his phone, stops when he hears my name. 

“Y/N?” He looks at the bow on my hands. “Please don’t tell me my man makes you bring this.”

“Am, yeah?” Chase shakes his head, making me more confused than I was a second ago.

“Why are so many…” A new guy appears with a bag on his hands, when he sees me, like the two other guys he smiles. “You came here with flowers?”

I nod. “Yeah, Joe asked me this.” I innocent question couldn’t be harmful right? “You know the girl right?” All look at me with a choke head. “The girl who Joe likes?” 

My excitement left them speechless and confused. “Don’t you?” Chase asked with open eyes.

“How could I know her?!” I throw my head back frustrated. “Joe just came for flowers and…” 

The disbelieving expressions, and tender smiles bring memories to my mind; the unusual visits, the texts and photos, the eyes and smiles. Drain the blood of my brain.

“He gave you a pumpkin of Squidward?” The strength on my fingers faded away making the bouquet fall off my hands.

“Oh my…” My phone starts to sound, with trembling hands I take out of my pocket finding the name of Joe on the screen.

Unable to pick up, my brain starts to work as fast as it can, when I lift my eyes, my heart stops for a second.

Joe was walking outside, with comfy clothes as his eyes are on his phone and in his hands a beanie. My phone rang one more time, he heard it lifting his eyes and found me surrendered by big guys, a bouquet on my feet and I swear pale as a ghost.

“You...”  

[wastemanjohn]

TW misogyny emotional abuse sexual assault

i am not going to use the term 4b movement for this post because I have recently become aware it has problematic/transphobic associations. however the idea of decentering men - not dating men, not marrying men, not having sex with men, not having children with men - is gaining traction for a reason. it was gaining traction before the US election, and after yesterday - well. i don't need to explain do i?

it's terrifying. the hatred of women. the enjoyment of the hatred of women, the revelling in the hatred. the women who join in with the hatred, maybe thinking they're different. maybe thinking they'll be spared from it. that they can camouflage, hide somehow.

it won't work.

on a more individual level, so many of us have fucking had enough. we are tired. we are sick of the podcast bros demeaning us for our "body counts." we are done with the constant policing and control of what we do with our bodies, and in america's case the very real and terrifying threat to life and health that has arisen from that. we are done with the daily objectification, humiliation and harassment. we are done with weaponised incompetence, we are done with having our careers and areas of knowledge mansplained to us, we are done with being sluts and prudes and always being wrong no matter what.

can you blame us? can you really fucking blame us?

men are conditioned to hate us. some recognise that and work on it. unfortunately, many, many more do not.

the first time i heard labour by paris paloma i bawled my eyes out and couldn't entirely understand why.

the first time i read the husband stitch by carmen maria machado i bawled my eyes out and couldn't entirely understand why.

i understand now.

i think many of us have quietly stopped dating men before we even knew there was a movement around it. at least it seems that way to me. but just speaking on my own experience - i haven't really been dating men since early 2023. i briefly dated men again a few months back; i abruptly stopped because it sucked. because, hand on my heart, since i stopped dating men - i have never been happier, freer, and more secure in myself. i have never been more fucking content.

my life is beautiful now. i have my wonderful friendships. i have my loving bonkers family. i have my career, i have my aspirations, i have my wealth of interests and hobbies, i have my beautiful (four legged) sons. all of these things are so much sweeter when i can enjoy them in peace.

peace; when i'm not picking up after him because he can't be bothered to walk two feet to put his dirty underwear in the laundry basket. when i'm not heartbroken for months because i thought i was going to marry him but he had another long term girlfriend and a whole other life that he kept secret from me for so embarrassingly long. when i'm not doing mental gymnastics to excuse that time he made jokes about my sexual abuse, when he was the first person i really told, or the time he didn't comfort me and didn't understand why i was so upset when another ex of mine was in court for viewing CSAM. when i'm not spending another weekend alone due to him cancelling at the last minute yet again for his mates. when i'm not feeling vulnerable and confused because we've negotiated a scene and he purposely crosses my limits because it's hot to him (so many times). when i dont have to listen to everyone say what a nice guy he is but he's been pressuring me for nudes for the last two weeks.

when he can't handle my proportionate emotions and suggests i'm just being mentally ill when i'm trying to communicate that he's hurt me. when he tells me it's a good thing i've taken up dance because i'll get more toned and be able to open my legs wider. when he drives really fast and erratic because he's pissed off with me and wants to scare me. when he lies to me about having huntington's disease so i won't break up with him.

every one of these is a different guy BTW. and this is just off the top of my head.

how many stories do you have?

anyway 100/10 highly recommend being a spinster with cats. society hates strong, self assured women who can make it alone. i have never wanted to be that woman more.

and no - before anyone comes at me I am not saying all men are monsters or that only men are abusive. i do not hate men just for being men. i have some great men in my life as friends and family. i am merely making the right choice for me based on my experiences, based on how hostile the current climate is towards women, and i support the fuck out of anyone who is doing or wants to do the same. sorrows and fucking prayers to anyone who has a problem with that.

i don't see why i should keep my experiences to myself. why any of us should.

my DMs are open for anyone who needs someone to talk to about this stuff.

[katerinaaqu]

It is! Oftentimes.

-Yeah... Perhps that is true but I am not sur eanymore. I know he deleated the songs on Ismarus slaughter but yeah

-Yes perhaps it is unfair of me to take it out on you. It is just that I have answered this question more times than what I can count. I take that back. I am annoyed in general by this but yes it is unfair to take that out on you. Hahahaha fair enough true true. Like I said I take that back.

-To be fair I understand why and the example is quite blunt I understand but this is literally the level of Iconic scenes like Sirens or Circe are. Remove the sirens experience and you have a story where the shoe of Cinderella is no longer a thing and Cinderellla is recognized by something else instead.

-Clearly, I suppose. To me "retelling" is exactly what the word says "re tell a story". The story is there. The adittions to the story would be either fill in the gaps or add some piece of information that is part of the research. At least this is how I usually work on my retellings as well. I actually posted a small analysis as an example on how I usually do the stories

I am not saying if my work is a bad or good retelling (that is in the eye of the beholder). I am just saying that in my mind a retelling is not something that aims to change everything; is something that retells the story in the present potentially making some changes to make it easier to the target audience but all in all the basic plot is respected and followed, otherwise like I said is not retelling to me, just a "loosely based on" idea. I definitely agree to that I am not sure either what better word one can use at that case! Hahaha

-I did hear that from fans as well. Like I said there is nothing wrong with liking it especially since you are clearly also aware of the differences. It just doesn't vibe with me

-I agree to the first one. Yes if a story is said to be a retelling or an adaptation I myself expect it to be accurate. But at the same time I also get annoyed becase these stories had more than enough of unfaithful adaptations as well which again makes me a bit sad as well Generally I dslike this "fanom logic". On one hand it is great that people get dedicated and like something, on the other it becomes so hard to control these things and find truth from lie and imagination from fact sometimes. Indeed they are. I found most of them very nice. One or two again didn't vibe with me like "Suffering" but they were personal preferences (plus again linked to that iconic moment that got twisted hahaha)

-Oh yes I do find very good converstions on the matter for sure. Well call me crazy but again I think the OG Odyssey has as much video game logic as it can't be more. Like Odysseus slaughters Ismarus but saves Maron, Maron gives him the godly wine, Odysseus uses that godly wine to get Polyphemus drunk. The bag of winds needs not to be opened it is opened so the people move from one place to another. To defeat the witch you have to pay the price and sell yourself to her. You go to the underworld with stuff that she gives you and slay a sheep and not let others go to drink till Tiresias arrives. Tiresias gives a prophecy. To go through Skylla you try to fight but ultimatey you pay the price. To save yourself from Charybdis you need to grab on the tree the witch told you about etc. Not all video games have boss fights every five meters and I could absolutely see Odyssey as an open world video game already from the OG material. But maybe that is just me.

-Absolutely that is a positive outcome from it if more people get to read the original.

New Epic saga and it's horrible... to give you an idea, Odysseus fought Poseidon, stole his trident and made him beg for mercy

hmmm a god begging a mortal for mercy is not exactly on par with Greek religion and stories. How did that scene made it into the final version?

[buttered-milky]

Russingon being an incestuous couple is so fucking interesting to me for what it represents narratively. (Yes, I know they are not canonically a couple. No, I do not care, because I do believe the coding is on purpose. Even if it’s accidental, it’s still there.)

If you don’t have a lot of experience with incest in other fiction (for example: the staple gothic horror), incest usually represents deviance. That’s just what it says on the tin: diverting from norms. Usually in a bad way. Deviance can be narratively treated as bad or wrong, and there is plenty of deviance from our meta societal norms with these two, but I digress. I don’t want to talk about that today.

I want to talk about subversion, and the deviance that is sometimes good, actually, and the message that sometimes you must break norms to do good.

[PS guys if you read all this and want to add your thoughts please do! This is kind of half-baked and I’d love to see more opinions because I’ve not seen anyone talk about this much.]

They are so fucking fascinating, because they are deviant! They are! Their entire relationship is baffling politically because of the Finwëan house feuds. More importantly, they have individual deviances that this relationship is telling you to pick up on.

.

Maedhros is a Kinslayer. Maedhros is also arguably the most heroic one of his siblings.

.

No, we can’t burn the ships. How the fuck are we gonna get Fingon over here?

No, I have to go parley with Morgoth.

I have to abdicate the crown because I’m becoming something I don’t want to be.

No, I have to put myself in front of everyone else. I have to hold Himring so the rest of Beleriand doesn’t get nuked.

I have to summon everyone for the Nirnaeth.

.

And then after Fingon dies in the Nirnaeth, Maedhros (as we all know) goes fully off the rails—which is to say, he becomes fully Fëanorian. He goes back to the norm for his family.

There are more Kinslayings. He tries once to save two twin children, and that’s it. He gives up. There is no more hope. Maglor is responsible for taking in the next set. Maglor also wants to beg the Valar for forgiveness, and maybe Maedhros would’ve seen the sense in that once, but instead he becomes the second coming of his father and dies burning, clutching onto his Oath.

The deviance from Fëanorian standards was the only thing keeping him from becoming a monster for all that time.

.

Fingon is also (very likely) a Kinslayer. He’s also the family extrovert and hope incarnate.

Unlike Aredhel and Turgon, he does not seclude himself for his own protection. He does the opposite.

.

No, we can’t just stay here in Aman. We need to protect the other half of our people??

No, we actually have to get Maedhros. Fine, I’ll do it myself then. I’ll reach out to the gods while I’m at it, since none of you will.

Of course we’re going to join every battle. Of course we’re going to help hold down Beleriand.

If I have to face evil alone I suppose I will, then.

.

And he dies when he’s alone against those Balrogs. Fingon is also like his father in many ways—but in some ways he is not. He is brighter, sometimes. He is hope incarnate in the worst of places.

.

I’m far from the first person to acknowledge that what Maedhros and Fingon have going on is a very strong message to never give up hope. But like—not just that. What kills me is that, you know, the hope and the heroism and the goodness is the deviance.

They like each other while most of the Noldor are off getting doomed or fighting with their relatives. You get to those little bits where it mentions Maedhros and Fingon still keeping up their friendship and you kind of have to think “damn, at least some people still genuinely love each other in the midst of all this horror.” It’s sweet. And yet it’s deviant.

And that’s weird, right? Usually deviance is bad. But I think here it’s more neutral. Just presented as: this is not the common option, not the norm. It’s not the common option, but it leads to one of the kinder relationships in the Silm.

The Silm wants you, the reader, to take away that you should have hope and goodness, even when everything around you is hell. Even when it is the hard option. When it becomes hardest to hold up light and help others, that is when it’s needed most.

It will be scary sometimes to be hopeful, and that’s okay. It will be scary to extend yourself. It will be scary to trust and to defend others. That’s okay. Do it fucking scared and keep doing it.

[midnight-mourning]

I won’t lie, saw your post about how things are scary rn in the U.S. and… idrk what’s going on. Been avoiding it like the plague bc i’m afraid of the information i’m currently ignorant to. As someone who dwells on “what ifs” it scares me to know what is going on but at the same time i wanna know what’s happening since i live in the U.S too. Just wanted to share this. I feel bad bc of the fact that i been ignoring it, so i do wanna know what’s going on. I just want someone to tell it to me in a way that doesn’t feel like i’m being attacked for avoiding it bc i’m too afraid to learn the information by myself. But there may be some people like me out there.

Hi there, that's absolutely valid, it's been a bit of a mess and some miscommunications have occurred already (as typical always every 4 years here) and wanting to avoid all of it isn't unreasonable. Acknowledging but avoiding a subject is completely different than denial, and that's totally okay, I don't judge. I'll do my best to explain in a way that makes sense and that's hopefully helpful

Before anything else, let me preface this by saying that I am NOT a political scientist, I am NOT an expert in anyway regarding politics in the slightest, anything that I share below is based on my personal experience and research so please keep that in mind, I highly encourage you to check out the sources below for any further information. Having said that, here's what we know:

According to The Associated Press, and other news outlets, the current president elect is Donald Trump with 292 of the electoral college votes, races have not been called in AZ, NV, ME and AK.

Harris is set to give a concession speech at 4 pm EST today.

Republicans have control of the senate with 52 seats, with democrats having lost 3 seats and currently have 43. 5 remaining races have yet to be called. Currently, they are projected to be filled by Democrats by Associated Press and 270 to Win.

The house is currently still a toss up, 270 to Win projects 209 (D) to 213 (R) for 20 of the remaining 33 uncalled races. Again, 13 races are still a toss-up at this point in time.

Sources for more information:

If you would like more information regarding live coverage, as well as general, unbiased reporting, Associated Press is (in my opinion) the most accurate and unbiased source of information.

If you would like to see current projections for the remaining races, Associated Press and 270 to win appear (emphasis on appear) to have the most accurate reporting.

If you want to see live coverage and discussion, or to see how things unfolded last night, CNN did have a broadcast going last night that was free to watch. It appears they've now taken it down. If I happen to find said broadcast I'll update the post with it as they do a good job of explaining things state by state, precint by precint. However, much like any other media outlet, they can be prone to bias (left-leaning) and potentially to fear mongering. Should you seek out CNN or any other news outlet besides those above please keep in mind that reporting may be influenced in certain ways because of this.

Having said all that, here's what I personally think this means and what can still happen, with facts mixed in for reference. Much of this is my opinion and should not be taken as fact unless it's cited. Again, not an expert, just someone with a very very basic understanding of politics and government.

With the win of the presidency and the senate, republicans are at the advantage. With senate control they will be able to assist with choosing the next presidental cabinet, and should there be a vacancy on the supreme court, assist with that.

However, if democrats can take control of the house, the win will be massive, and leave them able to have some say in the next 4 years, but nothing is for certain at this point in time

Democrats potentially have at least a little breathing room in the senate, they're not majority, but only 4 seats difference is better than nothing

We've gotten through a Trump presidency before, the situation then, as well as the feeling everyone has now is exactly the same. We made it through then, and we can make it through again

The senate is only guaranteed to be controlled by Republicans until the 2026 midterms, two years is a long time, but it's only two years

Having lived through the last Trump term in my teens and remember it well, yes he managed to do some pretty awful things, but he also undelivered in several ways, we can only hope the same thing happens this time around, this would be especially true should democrats take the House

He won't be back, if he makes it through the term he'll be too old and his health won't be great. Republicans didn't want him this time, they won't want him the next.

JD Vance and so many others will still be kicking long after he's gone though, and that needs to be in the back of people's heads when we get closer to 2028

Trump made a lot of empty promises he didn't keep before, and personally I don't think he beleves half the things he says, he just says it because he knows others do believe it. Giving up hope now for a better tomorrow won't make a better tomorrow, hoping despite it all will. Giving up also gives people like him exactly what they want, and I'm not about to do that, neither should you.

For now, be vigilant, stay safe, but try to relax. Doom-scrolling, wondering what might happen, and so on, is pointless because at this point, we don't know. Anything could happen, this election is a clear example of that.

Hope this was able to help, anon. We're all in this together, and as long as that remains true, we're going to be okay. Highly recommend after reading this to do what's best for you, be that choosing to find out more through the sources above or continue to avoid it. Personally, I'm getting together with some friends this evening to study, chat, and chill and decompress from it all, hopefully you can do something similar if you need to 💜