#because they're GOING to get changed or forgotten entirely all the time

[cephalog0d]

I am absolutely on board with White Stripe Jason if only because there are nine frabjillion Built Dudes With Black Hair running around DC comics in general and Bat-related ones in particular and giving me literally anything as an out of costume identifier is appreciated. (Especially since some art is...less than great...at making characters look like remotely distinct people.)

I know that often Redhead-Dyed-Black and Black-With-White-Stripe are two different design takes that don't necessarily overlap but every time the secret redhead thing comes up I imagine him very carefully dyeing everything except the white part, because he is petty and dramatic. (affectionately)

(I think the red hair is pretty much just from that Batman and Robin run, though, contemporary pre-crisis sources for that old version usually list him as blond, which is always how I read it, because comics art (and especially of that era) was Not Subtle with red hair color for anyone who had it. Not that it really matters that much, but I have all these old physical reference books around so I might as well share them because I'm a giant dork and think they're neat!)

(Think anybody on that run got confused about which morally questionable dude named Jason who thwarted death and has inner demons and red hair with a white streak they were writing about? XD)

so let me tell u a bit about jason todd, yall probably know this but let me tell the story anyway

as we all know, jason has black hair with a white stripe, or does he?

when he was created in the 80s, he was basically the perfect grayson replacement, good kid with a tragic past and a circus bg that wanted to do good and was sweet and had a beautiful relationship with batman and selina. he was also ginger

(these first images are from batman 1940)

in this timeline, jason died his hair black on his own to resemble robin

he was also the sweetest kid in existence btw

anyway someone decided that fuck that noise and remade jasons story entirely not soon after, this time hes a delinquent with good-for-nothing parents, with black hair and some interestingly violent tendencies

"jason todd was the sweet robin" my ass, anyway he became a gremlin of a robin who no one liked and then he died, v tragic (im only half joking, the writers despised him)

then he came back years later! yay! and when he came back, he looked like this

black hair, right? no white stripe yet, that one is harder to explain

so morrison, new batman writer, brings jason todd again as a ruthless antihero, and this jason is... ginger again? so basically even though he kept the delinquent jason story, he gave a wink to the first sweet boy jason

plus, this ginger jason has the white stripe! as explained here

basically, the explanation morrison gives is hes been dying his hair black all this time cause bruce needed him to look like grayson cause robin was a symbol, which honestly is kinda insane and i live for it

the problem comes further down the line, the timeline becomes a bit blurry cause flashpoint happened, n52 happened, we were all disappointed, let's move on

his next appearance is in red hood and the outlaws (i think, this timeline is insane) and he goes back to this

from this point on, i genuinely think the white hair stripe is a stylistic choice cause it makes an appearance whenever it pleases, he usually just has black hair like this

this is nightwing 2016, but it's also black in robin 2021 and robin war

he famously has the white stripe in the wayne family adventures (the canon status of that series being whatever you want it to be), it's also there in robins 2021 but uh, what was that, and gotham knights, seen here!

in conclusion: no one actually knows what color jason's hair actually is, my preferred idea is that he dyes it but does a terrible job, but honestly make canon whatever you want it to be, clearly the artists already do and i support them

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Guardian Angel

CW: Stalking, people breaking into your apartment (Arkham Knight and others), people brushing off an obvious issue, and violence. Be warned, there are no angels in Gotham. ~2.2k words

You have a stalker. Probably. Maybe. If you do, they're so good at covering their tracks that you're starting to believe you're just paranoid.

But it's the odd events, the trinkets moved slightly out of place, that have you checking over your shoulder.

There wasn't even any evidence at first. Your day had been completely normal. All you were doing was cooking dinner, when your nerves went on end, and goosebumps rose on your skin. The feeling of being watched, of being prey set in.

It didn't make sense, didn't have a reason, but you closed your curtains and triple checked your locks nonetheless. (The bat you keep by your bed slept next to you that night)

You would have forgotten about the incident entirely if, a week later, the same feeling crept up your spine while you walked home. You'd never walked faster to get to your building. You'd practically sprinted up the stairs to your apartment, and slammed to the door behind you.

Even within your home, it took almost the whole night for the feeling to fade.

Two times could be a coincidence, but then things started getting stranger.

You could have sworn you left your keys on the counter the night before, so why, why did you find them on the coffee table?

It makes you uneasy, almost sick, but you're already late to work. So you do the only thing you can, you brush it off.

Until it happens. A thing you can't brush off.

You knew you had used the last of the sugar yesterday. Knew it because you had made a mental note to pick some up the next time you went to the store.

But there's sugar. It's not a lot. Just enough to get you through a few days. Enough to make you think you might have just missed the last of it.

You know you're right. You know you were out of sugar and even if your coworkers laugh and tell you to get more sleep, that having an angel that refills your sugar can't be that bad, you know someone's been in your apartment.

You set traps, set cameras, get your locks changed, take note of everything. You don't get any evidence.

But you notice that your window doesn't squeak anymore when you open it. Your shower doesn't rattle when you go to start it. Your oven actually heats up to the temperature you set it to.

It's been like this for months now. And you're starting to believe that Gotham does have its own set of angels that go around trying to make your life a little easier.

That is until, you meet him.

You'd been unlucky. Gotten grabbed and dragged into the alley by your apartment by some haggard looking man waving a gun. It wasn't the first time you'd been mugged in Gotham, and you doubted it would be the last.

You had reluctantly pulled your wallet and phone out of your pockets and handed them off when an armored-clad person dropped between the gun and you.

At first, it was a relief. Being saved by Batman or Nightwing is practically a rite of passage in Gotham.

But then you watched the would-be mugger hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his arm. Then you watched your savior turn to face you, and you knew it was him.

You didn't have an explanation, you didn't have proof. You'd never even seen a glimpse of the helmet that hid his face before. But you knew. He's the one that's been following you. He's the one that's been in your home.

No amount of good deeds can overshadow how violating it feels, to know he's been watching you, observing you, doing things for you. You instinctively step back.

He only matches the distance you tried to create with a step of his own.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap, sounding braver than you feel.

He doesn't answer at first, just tilts his head like he's studying you. You think it might be because he's never seen you think close before.

"I saved you," he says instead, completely avoiding your question. You wonder if he's expecting to be treated like a hero, if he's looking for your praise. It makes your stomach churn.

"You've been following me. You're the one who's been in my apartment," You protest, eyes darting.

You half expect someone to come help you. With the way he's dressed, with how he's carrying himself, he has to be some kind of new villian you missed on the news.

He straightens out at your accusation, "Have I?"

You almost falter, almost do chalk it up to paranoia, but you just knew. Every fiber of your being knows, "Yes," You breathe out instead, "You have."

He nods slowly, then turns his back to you. A part of you wants to run, to try and escape and scream and get as far away from the man who feels like he could make you disappear without a trace.

He bends down and scoops up your phone and wallet before turning back to you. You freeze when he walks closer, each step steady and measured, then extends your belongings to you. Your hand shakes when you snatch at them.

You half expect him to yank them away, to make you beg, but he doesn't. He only keeps his grip tight on them, forcing you to be connected while you tug helpless at your things.

He watches you with his head slightly cocked before speaking again, "And if I have?"

He's easy, robotic cadence makes your blood grow cold, "Then you should stop," You retort, voice as cold as your veins.

"And if I won't," he prompts, finally releasing his hold on your things.

"I'll go to the police," You threaten, stuffing your wallet and phone back into your pockets.

"They can't help you," he warns. It makes you uneasy, that he makes no attempt to keep space between you. Even if his body language doesn't seem dangerous, everything else about him does.

"They can contact Batman," You try instead.

He laughs. It sounds humorless, empty, "He can't help you either."

You lose your nerve then, when he pats your cheek, and the guns holstered to his side seem to glint at you. "Get home," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're some kind of pet.

And then he's gone, leaving you to an alley empty of anything, save for you and the mugger crumpled to the ground. All you can do is go home. Sleep doesn't come for you that night.

He's sloppy, now that he knows you know. You can tell it's on purpose.

Flashes of glowing blue outside your window, your things carelessly shifted about your apartment, the broken fan that hasn't worked since you moved in left on and spinning when you come home from work.

The only place he hasn't seemed to touch is your bedroom. You're not sure if it's because he's showing some slightest form of respect or if he's simply too good at hiding his tracks for you to notice.

Both options make you feel anxious, and you constantly comb over your things for proof of his presence.

You rack your brain over it, lose sleep over it, but you can't come up with one idea of who he is and why he's doing this.

There's nothing on him in the news, nothing on the internet, not even a whisper on the streets.

It feels like it's all one big, sick game to him when your favorite flowers start showing up at your door, when your gas tank fills itself.

When you tell your coworkers, in a near panic, about your rent being mysteriously paid, they tell you it's harmless, it's kind of sweet, really.

Shouldn't you just be grateful that someone's doing all that for you? Shouldn't you be thankful to have an angel looking out for you in this city?

But you know it's not harmless. You know he's capable of so much more. You know he's no angel.

The sound of the mugger's arm snapping still haunts you.

But you don't know what to do. You're stuck, on edge, and slowly coming to terms with having to live like this forever.

That is, until your bad luck seems to get even worse. You were in your pajamas, already half asleep as you're lounging on your couch, when your world gets thrown into chaos.

There's a click in your apartment door's lock, and you have the terrifying realization that tonight's the one night you'd forgotten to throw the deadbolt.

"I told ya I could get the keys to this floor. And barely anybody lives in this building afta what happen ta Murphy," the heavy Gotham accent fills your apartment and three men file into your living room like they own it.

They freeze when they see you, and you don't hesitate to sprint for your fire escape.

You've just managed to throw your window open when one of them grabs you around the middle and hauls you back, throwing you to the floor. Your head knocks against the ground, and everything spins.

You think you whimper as they start bickering. "You said no one would be here!"

"They weren't supposed ta be! It's all supposed ta be empty," one of them snaps back. It only makes your head pound and your vision swim.

You try to push yourself off the floor, but a boot lands at the center of your back and forces you back to the ground, "We have to kill them."

Murmurs of reluctance fill the room, and for a second, you think you'll get to live.

"They saw our faces," You hear the telltale sound of a gun clicking off its safety, "I'll do it."

You flinch with the shot sounds, but no more pain comes. The weight comes off your back, and a body collapses to the floor next to you.

You lift your head just enough to see a familiar blur of blue charge at the remaining two men.

It's not so much of a fight as it is an execution. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but anything you can't see you can hear.

There's no mercy in his actions, all wrath and fury, and you want to laugh because, in a way, he is your guardian angel. An avenging angel, pummeling the people who threatened you into something unrecognizable.

You're sure how long it lasts, how long you hear his fists connect to their flesh. But eventually, your apartment goes quiet. The sound of fabric shuffling reaches your ears, and calloused hands carefully help you move until you're sitting up.

Warm palms press to your face you realize he's taken his gloves off. You force your eyes to open, morbidly curious if he's removed his helmet, too. You're not sure why you're disappointed he hasn't.

"Saved me again," You mumble, words almost slurring.

"You're not safe here," he says softly, and his thumb runs over your cheek like he's trying to comfort you.

"They didn't think anyone lived here," You supply, but he apparently doesn't find that very reassuring.

"Let's get you out here," he says instead, and you blame it on your head injury for being impressed at how he doesn't show any signs of struggling when he picks you up and cradles you to his chest.

"Don't have anywhere to go," you say weakly, mentally trying to do the math on how much a safe hotel would cost at this time of night.

The moonlight seems to give his helmet an odd shine as you stare hazily at him. It almost looks like a halo.

"I have a place," he tells you, already carrying you out of your apartment window.

That snaps you out of your thoughts. It makes you frown, even in your dazed state, you know you don't want to go with him. That even with the trick of the light, he's no angel.

You start to squirm, "No– no, wait–"

"You need somewhere safe to recover," he says, and he doesn't seem to notice your fidgeting. Your heart leaps to your throat, at how securely he's holding you. With anyone else, it would have felt like a promise of protection.

"I don't trust you, you're not safe," You stumble out, head growing heavy with each step he takes from your apartment.

"No one's safe. But I don't have any plans on hurting you," he murmurs, seemingly more occupied with getting you to wherever he's planning to take you.

"But you could," You exhale out, and your voice sounds weak even to yourself.

That makes him pause, and his helmet tips as if he's focusing on you, "Maybe, but I wouldn't like it."

You want to argue more, demand he set you down. But your brain feels so foggy, and you're so tired and drained that your head just kind of finds itself on his shoulder.

"You can sleep," he says, and your eyes fall shut at how soft he sounds, "I'll keep watch."

You really do want to protest, but his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. You can't help but think, as you drift off, that your angel might have fallen far lower than you can handle.

[kunaigirl]

Happy Disability Pride and awareness month! Let's talk about Epilepsy!

Hi there! I got tired of seeing my condition (that impacts my literal every day life) being left out or forgotten about during discussions about disabilities, so I made my own post about it! Let's go!

First Off! What the heck is epilepsy? Epilepsy is the fourth most common neurological disorder in the world, and it's a chronic medical condition. Epilepsy is a brain disorder that causes recurring, frequent, triggered, and unprovoked seizures to occur.

The official Epilepsy Foundation describes seizures as follows: "Seizures are sudden surges of abnormal and excessive electrical activity in your brain, and can affect how you appear or act. Where and how the seizure presents itself can have profound effects...Seizures involve sudden, temporary, bursts of electrical activity in the brain that change or disrupt the way messages are sent between brain cells. These electrical bursts can cause involuntary changes in body movement or function, sensation, behavior or awareness." (Source link)

Sounds like a lot of fun right? This is our life. Even with medication, we can be VERY limited to what can be safe for us. Seizure medications are NOT a cure, they only exist (at least as of now) as a tool to help have your seizures less often, or be triggered less intensely. Even on medication, seizures can still happen.

If you have epilepsy as a child like I did, it impacts your entire growing and developing experience. I spent MANY times as a child in and out of hospitals, neurologist and specialist offices, an getting so many EEG tests done. The pain of scrubbing the glue out of your hair for DAYS is horrible.

At a young age my seizures were so frequent and serious, it impacted my brain's ability to retain information. I had to re-learn the names of things at age 8 and 9. I had to re-learn HOW TO READ at age 10. I had to be home schooled because the public school system of my state at the time refused to work with me. I have VERY distinct and vivid memories of crying over my little baby ABC's book that I needed as a 4th and 5th grader. I knew I should've known this by this age. I knew that at one point I already did, and it was TAKEN FROM ME.

As an adult, I'M NOT ALLOWED TO DRIVE A CAR. And I can NEVER go to see a movie in theaters or go to see concerts or live music. There are entire TV shows I don't get to see. I can't go to clubs, arcades, dances, or raves. I miss out on A LOT of fun things. I always do, and I'm WELL AWARE of the fun I'm missing out on. The social, casual, and fun life experiences I'll never get to have. That WE'LL never get to have. And oh yeah! Seizures can KILL SOME OF US. Yep.

And the list goes on, and every person with epilepsy experiences it differently. There are multiple different types of seizures you can have, they're NOT always convulsing on the floor. For example, I have complex-partial-myoclonic-seizures. Meaning my muscles DO twitch when I have seizures, but I'm not always completely unconscious and sometimes I'm even able to stay sitting up. However, I'm still very "off" and can't focus or remember much for a good while after the fact. I can't talk or communicate during one, even with my slight bit of consciousness.

My experiences are not universal, I just wanted to talk about it and bring it up. It helps to talk about it even a little bit. Here's more about different kinds of seizures. Here's more about common seizure triggers. Here's more about CORRECT seizure first aid. And here's more general information/resources.

Please stop leaving us out of disability awareness. Please stop ignoring us or saying we're "not really disabled" or anything else like that. Please. Why does it always feel like the only people who care about epilepsy, are people WITH epilepsy? We're so tired of being ignored by others who don't have our condition.

If you're an epileptic person reading this, I see you. I love you. You're so strong, we all are. I believe in you, I believe in us. We're so much stronger than we get credit for, and it's going to be ok. Your anger and frustration are valid. Your emotions and struggles are real. You're valid, and I see you. Hang in there, we got this.

[becca-e-barnes]

"Slippery When Wet."

Taking a quick jump back to the 'Shit He Said' series because I haven't given it nearly enough time.

I think I'd almost forgotten how it feels to be with someone who lets you feel like you're their entire focus. God, it's nice.

It's nice to spend time with someone who makes you feel so thrilled to be yourself. It's nice to want someone so intensely you can't wait to touch them again. Yeah, it's been nice 😵‍💫

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (f receiving), thigh fucking, alcohol mention

Summary: You and Bucky spend some time relaxing together

Minors, do not interact

"These reusable plastic cups might have to do." You're standing on your tiptoes, reaching into the cupboard in the Airbnb kitchen, searching for the one thing you hadn't thought to bring with you.

"Those would be perfect." You hear in response from the bedroom just down the hall. "The rules said 'No glass in the hot tub'."

A sensible rule and one you're more than content to abide by.

One rule of few.

"You can open the champagne bottle. I don't need to go home with a horrible injury." You tease, lifting two of the plastic cups and making your way outside. Sandals of some description would have been smart but it's only a few steps out to the tub.

The cover has already been removed, the water is still and it's hard not to pause for a second and admire the view. Rolling green hills, a lake in the distance, flowers all around the patio and the sun beginning to set, bringing a very slight chill to the evening air.

There couldn't be a more perfect evening to climb into a hot tub and enjoy the scenery.

So that's exactly what you do.

The water is warm as you sink down in, settling yourself into one of the grooves. The level comes to just above your shoulders, lapping against the bottom of your chin as you adjust and get comfortable, looking over the edge at your surroundings.

"We'd need be careful getting out. The steps are slippery when wet." Bucky doesn't take long to join you, reading from the sign on the fencing that was strategically placed to give you some privacy.

Who knew he's so into rules.

Settling beside him feels natural. It's familiar and comfortable and reassuring in a way you didn't know you needed.

He couldn't possibly know how you've craved him since you saw him last. You'll do everything you can to make him feel it though.

He pours champagne into the two little plastic cups, handing one to you before looking for the button that starts the bubbles.

You clink the cups together, taking a sip from your respective glasses while the jets burst to life around you both.

"It's such a mild evening." You hum, cuddling in against his side, enjoying the chaste kiss he leaves on the top of your head.

"It is." He agrees, tilting your chin up so your lips meet his.

They're warm and soft and plump and taste faintly of champagne and there's nothing else you'd rather do in that moment than kiss this man more.

You break away quickly though, choosing instead to spend the time catching up. You talk about work and how things have changed since you last met up. You talk about your plans, your hopes and your fears. He gives you perspectives you hadn't considered and advice you fully intend to take, all while curled up in the bubbling tub.

The champagne slowly disappears. The glasses are filled up again and then that disappears too. You laugh together. You tease each other. You enjoy the company of someone you'd like to see a whole lot more of but understandably can't.

He gives you a reasoned perspective on the things that bother you. Somehow, you don't feel silly telling him about the little things that upset you recently or the worries you have. He's understanding and considerate and so damn fun to be around.

You pepper kisses across his broad shoulders, absentmindedly play with the little short curls of hair on his chest and he lets you feel so entirely worshipped.

He holds you in a way that makes you feel entirely wanted; like all of you is exactly the way it's meant to be and there's nothing he'd dream of changing. It's so incredibly attractive to feel so wholly appreciated. You want him in the very same way and every touch reminds you of that.

All too soon, the sun sets over the hills. The bottle is empty and the water starts to get to a temperature that's just a little cooler than comfortable.

You could sit here with him forever and never run out of things to talk about. That said, your fingertips are beyond wrinkled by the water and it's probably time to call it a night.

Somewhere in those last 30 or so minutes, you realised you need him again. The moment you'd arrived here earlier, the curtains had been pulled and you'd taken the opportunity to relieve some stress before dinner but it's not enough.

"Can I show you what else is slippery when wet?" You tease, pressing your lips to his with an urgency that surprises you.

He seems entirely into that idea, pulling your body impossibly close, his hand gliding up the inside of your thigh to rub against the thin material of your bikini.

Squirming in his lap is becoming a bit of a theme.

Before you get too far, you carefully step out of the hot tub and scamper inside, letting him close up the tub while you rinse off the pool water in the shower very quickly.

The anticipation gets to you, much like it always does. It only ever adds to the fun.

By the time he's also rinsed and dried off, you're perched on the edge of the bed, enjoying the feeling of your own fingertip trailing lazily over your clit. Your legs are spread wide, giving him full view of your glistening, soaked sex.

"I've been dreaming of this." He mumbles, kneeling at the edge of the bed and replacing your fingertip with his tongue.

Fuck, he's so good at that. His tongue flicks and thrashes, his neck working overtime to deliver you a sensation that not comparable to anything else you've ever experienced. He groans as he licks your body, enjoying the taste of your arousal and the slick wetness coating his chin to his nose.

You could let him do that forever and never grow tired of it. Your fingers have woven through his hair at some point and your thighs have clamped tight around his ears.

While you don't want to, his neck will thank you for suggesting a change.

You tug him up, eager to taste your own arousal on his lips and tongue and he doesn't disappoint. His tongue glides against yours, his wet chin rubbing against you and the intensity leaves you totally breathless.

You're almost frantic in how you need him now. "Please. I want you." You practically whine, grasping his firming length and giving him a few slow strokes until he's totally ready.

"Your hand always feels better than my own." He half laughs, half gasps, grinding his hips in time with the movements of your hand.

It's needy and desperate from both of you, much like it was earlier with the tip of his dick nudging your clit perfectly while he fucked your thighs.

His length slides against your eager core, massaging your arousal against his dick. It feels almost luxurious to be able to take your time with him. There's no rush, other than that dictated by your own need.

Before long, he's sinking into your body with a low groan, enjoying the way he feels your heat engulfing his shaft.

"You're so fucking wet." He moans, bottoming out and kissing your shoulders.

You know you are and it's borderline embarrassing how quickly he was able to get you like that.

"Such a pretty angel." He pulls back, giving himself a chance to sink into you again and it steals the breath from both of you. "You feel like Heaven. You're so hot around my cock."

He's bound to still be sensitive from the round earlier that day but it doesn't stop him.

"God, you're going to earn every drop of cum I give you. I'm going to pump you so full." He's so delightfully filthy and you love hearing him talk to you like that.

Your hand weaves its way between your bodies, finding your throbbing, neglected clit and rubbing it in rough circles.

"You want to cum inside me this time?" You love how you never really know what to expect with him. He he pulled out earlier in the day, choosing to glaze your chest and tummy with an impressive load instead.

"I'd cum inside you every time if you didn't look so pretty covered in it." His thrusts are faster now, meeting the rhythm your fingers have dictated you need.

"I want you to cum inside me this time. Fill me until I'm dripping." The image in your head as you're saying it is enough to make you quiver. You're chasing your high far faster than you thought you'd be but you're sure he's not far behind you. The notion of his cum filling you is a love that you both share.

"Want to taste it inside you when I'm done. Let it leak out of you and then press it back in with my tongue."

That's all it takes. One filthy little fantasy and you're trembling, cumming so hard you see stars. You work yourself through your high, riding it out on his cock and you're vaguely aware that you've milked his release from him too. You feel him spilling inside you, blowing another huge load into your eager body with a low moan and a few curses.

When you're both spent, he collapses onto the bed beside you, pulling you close to him for a cuddle.

"Give me a few seconds. Then I'll get to work." He hums, breathlessly.

[astonmartinii]

big girls do(n't) cry | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: reader x charles leclerc

charles' gf just can't seem to catch a break

yourinstagram

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 201,876 others

yourinstagram: weekend breaking with the girlypops

view all 17,546 comments

leclercbaby: so charles is racing in miami and y/n is out spending his money with her friends?

ynandcharles: you know she has a job right? and a life outside of charles?

charlesdefender: let's not pretend her little writing gig covers all of this shit

charles_leclerc: lovely lady

yourinstagram: why thank you my dashing gentleman

ferrarigirl16: imagine dating an elite athlete and smoking? it's so gross charles needs to drop her asap

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 612,088 others

charles_leclerc: friday feeling in monaco 🇲🇨

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babygirlpierre NO Y/N ??? DON'T GET ME EXCITED

holacarlos55 do you people not have jobs or ?

yourusername what do they put in the water in monaco woooooof

charles_leclerc says the tall glass of water herself

justleclercthings let's not pretend that her missing his home gp isn't a HUGE deal omg

lordperceval i usually don't care about wag drama but like ... we all know y/n is the worst wag, right? she hardly comes to races, is always spending his money with her friends and is smoking as if he doesn't need to be in top condition?

likedbypierregasly you might have a point

yourusername

liked by yourbff, landonorris and 231,887 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourbff1, yourbff2, yourbff3

yourusername: you didn't think i'd forgotten about monaco, did you?

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cl16x mother back to mothering as she should

charlesstan okay well some of y'all are real quiet now

charles_leclerc wouldn't be a monaco race without you (and your stray cats)

yourbff since we're staying at your house i'll keep what i wanted to say to myself

yourbff2 meow bitch

yourusername don't pretend you don't love us

peargasly why can't she go anywhere without her friends it's so weird

pierregaslight because she obviously has no friends in the paddock any time the camera goes to the ferrari garage no one is ever with her

grussy63 she seems super annoying idk what charles sees in her

f1wagsupdates

liked by gatekeepgaslightgirlboss, babyricc3 and 1,276 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: y/n y/ln at the release party for her new book sharp objects! this is her third book and it's already a new york times best seller, so happy for her

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howdyricciardo so everyone who gets on her ass when she can't go to races but where's the same energy for charles now - we all know they have the week off cause he's on holiday with pierre.

landonowins it's such a double standard

number16 i still think she's bad for charles her actually doing her job won't change my mind

charlesbaby can't wait for the day when she won't be on this page anymore

perceval16 these comments ... they're on every post i really think charles needs to say something at this point, he's just hanging y/n out to dry

yourusername added to their story

[caption: lonesome love. i am bored by his heroism, virtue, and honour. i think the best these men can do is not talk about themselves anymore]

yourbff

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yourbff: since no one else will, LISTEN UP SLUTS!!! this girl is the most talented and kind-hearted girl in the whole entire world. ANYONE would be lucky to be with her, so it honestly BAFFLES my mind that those blessed enough to be with her are so silent when his so-called fans rip a person they do not know apart on social media. i say this sincerely GET A LIFE!!! also she's the sexiest girl in the world and could have literally anyone she wants so PICK UP THE SLACK OR we'll activate operation hot girl summer - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

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yourbff1 @charles_leclerc

yourbff2 @charles_leclerc

yourbff3 @charles_leclerc

yourusername i love you all so much - platonic soulmates for real

danielricciardo @charles_leclerc

charlieleclerc oh wow charles just got humbled

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc: i've not been the best of boyfriends in recent weeks, so it is time i say my piece. y/n is the most talented, patient and beautiful individual i have ever met and i won't stand for her being attacked on social media by my "fans". you are not a fan of mine if you attack my girlfriend. i love her and nothing an anonymous comment can say will ever change that. you attack her for not "supporting" me enough and yet none of you know anything from behind the scenes (not that you should need to), if anything i have been the unsupportive one. i love y/n so so much and i will do anything to make sure she knows it. please stay out of our business.

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yourusername

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yourusername: he's mine. cry more.

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lilacleclerc i love them so much PARENTS

danielricciardo WHOOP TELL EM'

charles_leclerc love you too baby

yourusername i love you more

landonorris mic drop

myloveleclerc finally !!!

dutchlion i'm so glad he finally said something - and also me if i were a wag CRY MORE

note: bit of a random one but alas i hope y'all enjoy

[captain-joongz]

as per request, we have a little Jungkook drabble here! i know that people call him bunny, but to me he's so wolf hybrid coded, so i wrote a little hybrid scenario for him hehe <3

warnings: possessive needy kookie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cum play, scent play??? does that exist in hybrid fics??

it's no secret jungkookie gets playful a lot, he's just a baby. of course, when he's not railing your brains out, but that's how he lures you in, you see. and even knowing that, you fall for it every damn time, like a love-sick fool (which you are)

he's just so cute, watching you with those sparkly mischievous eyes - that's how you know he's about to do something, and before you know it you have a clingy wolf plastered to your back, hands grabbing onto your hips as he pouts and whines into your hair. he's trying to be cute to get you to go along with his whims and it's working, it's working every damn time

sometimes he starts off innocent enough, just wanting to cuddle or be close to you. you're both very tactile people and need a lot of contact, especially since your cute little boyfriend got it inside his head that you're his omega and he needs to love on you regularly

you always recognise when he changes intentions though, even without his ability to smell arousal, you can feel the shift in his behaviour, in the way his grip gets stronger and he starts rubbing himself on you. and he's a horny little demon, so you've learnt to expect the unexpected

like two days ago, when your boyfriend came to you in in the kitchen and simply bumped his hip into yours before leaning his head down to your shoulder, which then led to scenting which somehow ended with you getting fucked full on the kitchen table and Jungkook walking away happily while you tried to salvage the horrifically burned dinner.

or yesterday when he said down next to you on the couch, just cutely stretching over to snuggle into you while you worked which turned into you riding his knot until you both were stupid with it, paperwork long forgotten

or this morning, when "just cuddle five more minutes and then you can go" somehow ended up with you mounted and fucked into the bed, having to rush to work with his cum still inside you and being late anyway

or like right now, standing in the middle of his best friend's apartment, party in full swing, with a clingy wolf glued to your back knowing he's about 2 minutes away from needily mouthing at your neck, and panicking because you know he doesn't care about giving his entire friend group a show (they're all mostly hybrids anyway he always says)

and by the looks you're getting from some of the others, they know precisely about your current predicament, which is both a blessing and a curse when 10 minutes later you're saying your goodbyes to an amused Jimin with a knowing smirk, Kook pulling you out the door without a second glance

getting home is an ordeal, because Kook is the driver out of the two of you and he's suddenly like an octopus, unwilling to let you go. you're kind of expecting him to jump you the second the door of your apartment closes behind you (which has happened before and your poor decorative drawer caught the worst of it), but as the brave boy he is he hold off until you're in the living room

then he's all over you, holding you close with needy hands, mouth running along your shoulders, neck, biting and kissing and licking like an animal, satisfied chuffs leaving his lips

you have an inside joke between you - that it's impossible to tell whether he's in rut or not with how hot he gets for you all the damn time, and it couldn't be more true right now with him already grounding his hard cock into your side, desperate enough to mount you right here in the middle of the living room

his tail is wildly swishing behind him, thumping into the side of the couch as he pulls you closer to it, hands carving you according to what he wants, and you end up bent over the headrest, still standing and upper half of your body awkwardly dangling over the furnishing

but you don't have much time to complain, not when you feel Kook's fingers pushing your skirt up and your tights and panties down, groaning at the smell of your arousal permeating the air

"delicious" he'd rumble into the skin of your neck, tasting the scent right from your skin, his instincts kicking in already and engaging the more primal part of his brain

when he got like that, there wasn't much you could do except for taking everything he wanted to give you, moaning and drooling, flailing in his strong tattooed arms as he pounded away and filled you with a load after load

Jungkook in life was a minimalist in a single thing only - once he got you into a position, he'd fuck you for hours without bothering much to part from you - every second not spent plastered to your body and thrusting into your wet cunt was wasted in his opinion, and as long as you were screaming and moaning, there was no reason to move

and his possessive side would come out during these moments, with his mind gone in pleasure, he never held back with his endless groans and growls, whispering "mine!" into your ear like you were his favourite toy, smattering you in his seed until you'd smell like him for weeks - he thrived on that, on every hybrid knowing immediately you were taken by him, you could see him smirk every time Yoongi winced upon getting a single whiff of you after a particularly long night, the feline hybrid throwing the younger man unimpressed looks and subtly sitting away from you most of the night - Jungkook ate all of that up, chest swelling in pride

you'd long since given up on feeling embarrassed by such things, no longer blushing when you were dragged out of a party suddenly and fucked senseless in the car, nor when you came somewhere and all eyes turned to you out of the sheer potency of the wolf scent on you

and you could count on Jungkook always standing there, right by your side, an appreciative rumble sounding through his chest puffed up like a peacock, until he could get his hands on you again

divider by @cafekitsune

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 12

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Things hadn't gotten much better with James, and you knew you could only go so long without talking to him—after all, he was still your best friend. But, considering all that'd happened, along with some encouragement from your friends, you knew the time had come to finally admit you wanted more than that.

wc [6.2k]

a/n: alr guys ... very happy and also sad to say this is the last chapter of it's always been you!! :( i've loved every minute of writing this series as well as sharing it (its become my baby atp), and it is definitely because of all the love and support everyone reading has given it. thank u to everyone stuck around to this point, & i hope u guys enjoy this last chapter!! i send all my hugs and kisses <3 - e

all chapters | <- Chapter 11

It'd been another hour or two until everyone had fully returned from Hogsmeade and dinner was being served in the Great Hall. You finally changed out of your dress and into your everyday clothing again, already feeling better, but that didn't mean you felt good. You didn't think you could feel good when both your brain and heart were hurting like they were. And worst of all, the one person you'd go to in times like these for comfort was the same person you couldn't go to. Not now.

The girls had been doing their best to get your mind off of everything that had happened that day, aside from when Marlene profusely apologized to you for letting Potter hear her outburst in the common room.

"Although, I have to say," she admitted afterward. "I'm not completely sorry for him that he had to hear it. I may be brutal but I never tell a lie."

That fact didn't leave you as you sat with her and Lily in the Great Hall for dinner, a number of seats away from the other Marauders. You recognized with a skip in your heartbeat that James was with them, surprisingly enough since you knew how he was accustomed to skipping meals in the dining hall when he wanted to be alone, a habit you both unfortunately shared. But that didn't mean he was enjoying himself either.

You could see even from your seat down the table that he wasn't saying much, mostly keeping to himself quietly, something so out of character for him yet you'd seen him do it constantly the entire week. You wanted to yell at him and shake him silly, but you also wanted to hug him. When you caught yourself in the midst of those thoughts you turned back to your own spot at the table shamefully.

You tried to force yourself to eat, catching your friends' concerned looks at your full plate, but you didn't feel much like it. Especially not when you still felt maybe a dozen pairs of eyes on you from every corner of the Great Hall.

Even with all that'd happened since just that morning, the rumors and whatever else people had come up with to talk about had not yet been forgotten about by the school like your friends said it would be. Then you thought about whether news had spread of your disastrous date in Hogsmeade, and prayed that nobody had caught wind of that incident either. You didn't think you could handle any more of the staring.

Immediately after you had that thought, you spotted a fifth-year in Ravenclaw robes walking past your table, watching as he blatantly pointed at you as he spoke to his friend, and you looked down at your plate with hardened eyes.

You heard Marlene scoff from next to you. "Hey!" she called to the boy. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?"

The fifth-year didn't respond to her but looked to his friend, hurriedly taking a seat at his own table, his whispers being drowned out in the loudness of the dining hall.

Marlene fumed from next to you. "I can't believe these people. Are they really that bored with their own lives that they're so obsessed with a bloody rumor?"

You shook your head toying with your fork. "Just ignore them. That's what I've settled on doing."

She sighed from beside you and you thought that'd be the end of everything, until you heard gasps from down the table. You looked up and followed the sounds and were met with a sight not even the magic of Hogwarts could've prepared you for.

James—your James—had stood up on the bench he'd once been sitting in, and you thanked Merlin he wasn't standing fully on the table; though you had absolutely no idea what he could possibly be up to, you knew it couldn't be anything good. He cupped a hand to his mouth as your heartrate picked up.

"Can I have everyone's attention?"

He didn't have to ask twice for it. His voice boomed out loudly, something that seemed to come naturally to him, and the noise in the Great Hall had died out in a mere second until it was almost completely silent—quiet enough for you to hear the beating of your heart in your chest as you looked up at him. Your throat went dry.

"Not that it's any of anyone's business," he started confidently to the hundreds of eyes now looking at him, tone nothing but sober. "But nothing happened in the broom closet. Or in the locker room."

You felt the churning in your stomach claw up into your throat, then felt it drop back down, keeping you stationed in your seat. He didn't give much context to his declaration, but with the popularity of the topic amongst the school, it didn't seem like he needed to. His voice almost seemed to echo, all other noises drowning out as everyone stared up at him. James looked around the entire room appearing completely unafraid and you didn't know how the hell he did it; you probably looked more fearful than him.

"So," he began again, "I don't want to see or hear anyone talking about those rumors any longer. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can answer to me. Alright?"

Of course, nobody said anything then, but you could see in their eyes that they were going to listen to him. Or at least, they'd make sure they didn't get caught going against him. Maybe it was from his impenetrably confident voice or his respected status around the school, you weren't sure, but he had that unique effect on people in an almost effortless way.

When it was clear he'd gotten his point across, he scanned his eyes over the sea of students until they found yours. In a dizzying way, it felt like you were the only two in the room for a moment, as cliché as the thought sounded in your head.

You didn't know what had motivated him to do what he did, but you could see in his eyes something fragile that juxtaposed the self-assured look they'd had only seconds ago. He looked away again and stepped back down to floor level once more, not taking a moment before striding out of the Great Hall, his form disappearing seconds after.

Even without his physical presence, his action seemed to linger over the room for a moment more before chatter broke out once again. You were still frozen in place, not knowing if moving would finalize the idea that whatever just happened was real and not just part of some wild dream.

Marlene had confirmed that it definitely had happened, however, when she turned to you with her jaw dropped, an amazed but delighted sparkle in her eye. "Someone tell me you saw that too."

"Oh we saw it," rang Lily, who also looked much too happy about that fact, probably just relieved James's antics weren't centered on her for once. You could see them both staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to react. You could also see the boys in your peripheral, the three of them remaining at the table searching your face for a reaction.

Yet, all you could do was stand up and walk hurriedly towards the exit. Dozens of conversations rushed past your ears as you did, a blur of remarks ranging from "Potter's lost it" to "He's so bloody fit." Whatever they were saying, you noted with gratefulness in the back of your mind that none of the conversations were about you.

You reached the doorway and stopped once you were a safe distance away in the hallway, heaving breaths in for a moment to yourself before finding that you weren't alone. All of your friends had followed you without blinking an eye, and you didn't know whether you found it endearing or inconvenient. Though, to be fair, you didn't know where you were going. You just knew you couldn't sit there and pretend as if nothing had happened.

You blinked at the three boys who neared you with puzzled looks on each of their faces. "Did you guys know anything about this?"

"No," promised Sirius. "In fact, James has hardly said anything to us since this morning."

You shook your head to yourself, feeling breathless. "I can't ... believe he would do that."

"Really?" Lily stared at you. "I mean, it's Potter we're talking about. It's exactly something he would do."

You couldn't fight the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips even as you shook your head. You ran a hand over your hair as the blonde from next to you hit you in the shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" You frowned over at her as she stared at you expectantly. "Go to him."

You stilled, gaping at her. "What?"

"Go to him. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

You tipped your head at her like it would help you understand her better, parting your drying lips. "I thought you said he was a selfish git." You heard Remus snort from beside you.

"I did, sure," reasoned Marlene, not without a hint of pride. "But only because I thought he was ruining your chances of moving on now that you were over him. But seriously, I can see your face when you look at him." She shook her head. "That's not the look of someone who wants to move on."

Your eyes flickered over her face as she spoke, an infinite number of thoughts overtaking you. In the silence of your thinking, a Hufflepuff boy walked past the six of you in the hallway, staring all the while.

"What are you looking at?" snapped Marlene, turning to him without missing a beat. "Did you not just hear Potter?"

Like he'd heard him loud and clear, and also like he was scared of Marlene, he hurried away with his head bent forward. Satisfied, the blonde turned back to you. At your conflicted expression, she asked, "Well?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "It's just that," you began, not even knowing where you were going with your rambling. "I've spent so long trying to get over him. It's not fair to myself to just forget all of that, and it definitely wasn't fair to Sebastian-"

"For Merlin's sake," cut in Lily, to your surprise. "You keep talking about what's fair and what's unfair, but what about you? What do you want?"

You stared at her, beginning to feel breathless under the eyes of all your friends. "It's not just about what I want. It's not that simple."

"But what if it is?" she questioned. "I know how difficult this has all been for you. And I know you said Potter doesn't just get to realize his feelings for you and suddenly be with you, that it doesn't work like that. But what if it does?" She raised her hands at her sides. "Not everything is a perfect story to tell. Especially not when it comes to you two. It's not every day you fall in love with your best friend and he finally sees that he's fallen for you too. Are you seriously going to let him go because of some made-up system of rules?"

Your breath was becoming staggering now, and you didn't know what to think, because everything they were telling you sounded so right.

"I don't know," you began unsurely. "Of course, I don't want to lose him. Not talking to him for the past week has been harder than I ever could've imagined. I don't even know what it would feel like to have to do it for longer than I already have been." You blinked down at your shoes, truly realizing those things at the same rate you said them. "I think I just ... miss him."

"Of course you miss him." Marlene looked at you sympathetically. "That's why I think you should go tell all this to him."

You felt bile rising in your throat. "I don't even know if he'd want to see me after all we've said to each other."

"Are you joking?" Remus butted in exasperatedly. "Prongs is bloody in love with you. Can't you see that?"

"Remus," you warned softly because you didn't know how much more of this hope you could take before you did something you'd regret.

"I'm telling the truth." His voice was heavy with meaning. "Maybe it took him a while to realize it himself, but the rest of us have had to sit back and watch you both act like you don't have feelings for each other for years. Believe me, the only reason he's in his room right now and not with you is because he thinks that's what you want."

Your brows pinched. "You can't truly know that."

"Really?" he laughed. "What do you think we talked about that night Vance asked you out?"

Your expression faltered and you forced yourself to think back to the night James had begun acting distant from you, though it wasn't difficult to, the storyline of it all clicking into place in your head.

"You," breathed Remus. "We talked about you."

"Not to mention," Sirius added, "we're the ones who've had to spend every night in our dorm listening to him bitch and moan about Vance this and Vance that." You swallowed at your friends' words, but they didn't quit.

"And we know James was being a right idiot today," Sirius insisted honestly. "But you should've seen him this morning right after you two argued. He was heartbroken. More than he'd ever been over Evans." He turned to the redhead in question. "No offense, Evans."

Lily rolled her eyes lightheartedly. "Trust me, Black, none taken."

He nodded and turned back to you swiftly. "So for you to think that James would want anything other than to fix things with you and just be with you is bloody mental."

You stared at all of your friends who were looking so determinedly back at you that you didn't think you could tell them 'no' now. But still, your feet didn't budge.

"It's not just that," you almost whispered. "I guess I'm just ... scared. What if it goes wrong and we get into some ridiculous fight again? What then?"

Marlene took a hold of your shoulders, slightly scaring you in her resoluteness. "Potter just stood up and yelled at the entire bloody school and you're trying to tell us you'rescared?" She shook you a little, and your friends smirked from behind her. "Be a Gryffindor for Godric's sake! Go to him!"

Before you could say anything more, she was turning you around and shoving you a little until you had the momentum you needed to take steps toward the Gryffindor common room. You made it all the way up the nearest set of steps before you paused, turning back to your friends with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, you guys." You expected them to share the sweet moment with you, but they only rolled their eyes.

"Go, woman!" Sirius groaned, and you rolled your eyes back at them, but it lacked any real annoyance.

You didn't know exactly what you were planning on doing, but you didn't have time to think about it because your legs were carrying you speedily through the halls in your anxious state and wouldn't let you stop until you reached the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Taking a steadying breath in, you said the password and entered the room.

With everyone else still being at dinner in the Great Hall, it wasn't exactly difficult to find James. He sat in the common room, his brunette head of curls visible to you in the low light. They covered the majority of his face that you could see, his head tipped downwards with his elbows resting on his knees. That changed within the blink of an eye as you entered the room, his head swiftly lifting until he locked eyes with you, and you had to fight a shiver at the feeling it sent shuddering through you.

He seemed to think you were just going to go to your own dorm and ignore him, and he averted his eyes to look somewhere else, maybe the fireplace, until you left—but you didn't. You only walked closer to him until you were separated by only one of the couches, the distance still small enough to make your breathing quicken.

At the soundlessness of your stilled footsteps, James looked back up and met your eyes again, and he swallowed. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to make any move to talk to him that night, even after the scene he'd made in the Great Hall. The problem was that you hadn't expected yourself to either, and now you didn't know what you wanted to say first, because there were certainly a million things you had to make sure he knew.

"Thank you," you said, because you figured it was a good place to start. He nodded up at you, his eyes not revealing much of anything, but you didn't let that sway you. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Of course I did." His voice was stubborn, but too sincere for how little his expression gave away.

You looked down at your feet, letting a moment pass before speaking again. "Well, now it seems like everyone is going to be talking about you from now on."

"That doesn't matter to me." James's voice cut through the air richly, and when you looked back up from the floor he was staring at you meaningfully. "They can say whatever the hell they want. As long as they're not talking about you."

Your shoulders dropped at his words, and the way he held your eyes as he said them made your heart beat faster in your chest. It hadn't even been a full day since you'd last spoken to him, but you already missed him.

"They wouldn't leave you alone," he said concretely, his tone beginning to fill with emotion. "And then, I heard what Marlene said in the common room, about some girl harassing you in the library? I-" he shook his head frustratedly, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands. "I'm just mad at myself that I've let it go on for this long. Or that I didn't even know that happened."

You already felt too emotional for your liking, the feelings inside of you swirling more aggressively at every word he said to you. "It's not like it's your fault, James."

"Well it's not like I did much to stop it, did I?" He seemed genuinely angry at himself now, and you didn't know what you could do to help. A painful lump was rising in your throat, but you stayed rooted in your spot behind the sofa. "And I'd ask you why you didn't come and tell me, but that'd be a bloody stupid question."

He shook his head, eyes becoming wistful like he was recalling a memory, one that pained him. "Earlier, when Marlene was defending you in the common room, the look on your face was ... I don't know. Crushed. Sad."

You swallowed at the memory, because that had been exactly how you were feeling, amongst thousands of other ways. James looked down at his lap.

"I just wanted to try and help, do anything to make that look on your face go away, but I couldn't. So I just kept replaying how you looked in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated myself because I realized you were only hurting because of me. And that was the worst part. Realizing that it was all my fault."

You felt yourself wanting to take a step towards him, wanting to just reach out to him as the tips of your fingers teemed with the longing you felt in your chest. "James," you began, your voice hushed. "It's not all your fault."

You meant it. To try and say to yourself that you had no part in all the confusion between the two of you would be a blatant lie, one that you couldn't let James go on believing, especially not with the pained look on his face.

He only shook his head at you. "It��is," he insisted. "And here you go, being perfect towards me when I don't deserve it." A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "Marlene was right. I was being selfish, and petty, and a lot of other things, but most importantly, I wasn't being a good friend." He paused, a grieving confliction tugging at his brow. "That's ... that's not what friends do."

You went still then too, the word 'friend' hanging in the air between you with a weight that only made you tired. The truth was that cobwebs had grown in the house where you'd fostered that unforgiving title, and it felt like some intangible force had locked you both inside with it blindly.

"Yeah, well," you began, your voice small, "we've been doing plenty of things that friends don't do, lately.Like you said, we kissed, right?" You let out a breathy sound like a laugh that lacked any joy, and the way James's eyes flickered up at you knocked the rest of the air right out of you.

"About that," he began hesitantly, and you could tell he was thinking about both the night it'd happened and that morning when you'd fought, just like you were. "I know you don't want that to mean anything, so it- ... it doesn't have to. Even if I want it to. Because it doesn't matter what I want—what matters to me is you."

You were thankful you had the couch next to you to brace a hand on, because you'd never felt so swept up by a conversation and you weren't sure how much longer you could stand the way your heart was nagging at you.

"You were right," swore James, but the slight shake of his eyes back and forth on your face didn't look as adamant as he sounded. "It's not fair for me to expect something from you when you already got over me."

The words you'd shouted at him in Hogsmeade that morning sounded foreign and wrong coming from his lips, and you knew the months of dishonesty that laced them like you knew the back of your hand.

"And it's too late now, I get that." His voice went from deep and determined to on the cusp of breaking, and it killed you. "I just want to know that you're happy, and if being happy means being with Vance instead of me, then ... I can deal with that."

You watched as he swallowed, like he was forcing the words to come from his lips even if it pained him. The way he hadn't broken eye contact with you the whole while was starting to make your head spin.

Your blinking sped up, maybe holding back the emotion you knew you was fighting to come out, and you whispered, "James."

Maybe you hadn't been loud enough, or maybe he just knew you'd try to disagree with him again, but he only continued determinedly at you.

"I know I probably went and ruined your chances with Vance, like an idiot, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you another date with him." He nodded at you once firmly, and within a second he was standing up, taking an intentional step forward. "Hell, I'll even go talk to him right now and-"

"James," you called again, louder this time. "Stop."

You put a hand out and it landed on his arm softly but firmly, and all you could was pray you could find the right words to say to him as he stared at you, level with you now in an unsteadying way.

"You didn't ruin my chances with Sebastian. It wouldn't have worked out regardless, even if I'd wanted it to. Because being with him isn't what I want." You shook your head, recalling back what James had said to you only moments before. "He wouldn't have made me happy." You sounded desperate now. "He's not you."

James stilled, his glistening eyes the only thing showing movement as they danced across your face intensely, though you saw them widen with something bright like hope. "What?"

The confusion of the word that he'd practically whispered out unspeakably attested to how you felt yourself, the terrain of the land you were exploring right there and then with James uncharted and rocky. You pushed on, knowing there was no going back now.

"Marlene wasn't completely right, James. She only said all of those things because I'd spent all this time trying to convince her—and myself—that I didn't still have feelings for you. But I do, clearly." You tipped your head down for a moment in exasperation and exhaustion, willing yourself to keep going. "Everyone can see it. All of our friends. Hell, even Sebastian could see it." You laughed, though your eyes were growing blurry. "So for me to try to push those feelings down any longer would just be lying to you and to myself." You let out an exasperated breath. "And I'm so sick of lying."

Your shoulders sunk as you stood there, a steadily shrinking distance between you and James that was both comforting and daunting to you. You couldn't do anything but watch as James's face stilled and then shifted as he thought, studying your own face in a way that made you conscious of every shift in your expression.

"I just," he began, and then raked a hand through his hair. "Why did you feel like you needed to hide how you felt in the first place?"

You felt your mouth go dry at the question—one you knew came only out of a desperate curiosity and nothing else—and your mind began spinning. The last few years of your friendship seemed to swirl in your head, flickering in and out of focus as you tried to come up with an answer.

"I-" you began, willing yourself to say something, anything at all. "I was scared." The words rang true so much that they made your heart pinch. "Scared that you wouldn't feel the same and I'd go and ruin everything. That I'd lose you."

James's hands lifted up from his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, and he did. He took your hand in his, grasping lightly at your fingertips in a touch that steadied you and made you feel lightheaded at the same time. He shook his head at you with a firm hold in his brow.

"You could never lose me."

His lips were parted, and his hazel eyes glistened over in the low common room lighting like the thought of your suggestion was painful enough on its own. Looking at him then, his face lined with years of a comforting, steadying familiarity, you knew deep in your chest that what he said was true. But that didn't alter all that you'd felt for the past number of years.

"It's not just that," you said, looking down at his hand that held yours and blinking away the guilt that crept into your stomach, because it wasn't James's fault that you had felt this way. "Even in Hogsmeade, James." Your voice was becoming unsteady again and it only frustrated you more. "What if everything you said you felt for me was just some spur-of-the-moment thing from some kiss? What if you didn't feel the same way a week from now? Or a month? I knew I wouldn't be able to get over that fear. Especially when I'd been hiding how I felt from you for years. And then there were your feelings for Lily to think about and ... I don't know."

You trailed off, finally able to stop yourself. You felt petty, so petty, because you were so close to getting what you knew your heart wanted, but you felt the insistent need to ruin things for yourself and think of every way things could go wrong. You'd never felt closer to James then, but also never farther away. All you could do was stand there and wait for him to say something, anything.

James stayed unmoving for a beat staring at you, wordlessly taking everything in with a fragility in the air that hallowed your labored breathing. Then he started to shake his head like he was in disbelief. He ran a hand through his brown hair.

"For Merlin's sake."

His voice was low, a mutter, and he stared at the ground for a moment in thought before dropping the hand that once held yours, turning and walking away from you, leaving up the steps to his dorm room. You watched his back as he disappeared, your fingertips feeling cold and empty.

You felt your blinking speed up in a dizzying confusion. You didn't know what had come over you, not even sure exactly what you'd said in all of your desperate rambling that had made him decide to leave, but your vision started to blur even more than it already had until you recognized the wetness forming beside your eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not then, and not in the last twenty-four hours. You moved until you were sitting down on the couch in front of you, feeling lightheaded as the fireplace crackled a few feet away. The light from outside had left with the sun and the room had a comforting kind of warm lighting, though even that did little to soothe you as you sat there with all the unresolved feelings within you.

You were confused and lost and wanted nothing more than to just fix things, but you were even more at a loss for words when you heard quick footsteps coming from the staircase James had left from, and then saw his returning form making its way down the steps.

You turned your head to him swiftly in confusion, following him and his soft but energetic steps as he came to sit next to you, and that was when you noticed he was holding something—a box. One that was tattered on the corners, its black fabric aged and dusting over.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, brows tugging in all your bewilderment as you waited for James to explain.

"I-" he began, and stopped as soon as his eyes focused more on your face. You must've looked as broken as you felt, and at seeing the look on your face, he held one of your hands in his before swiping across your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb.

You felt like wilting under his soft touch that you'd missed more than anything in the confusing weeks, mentally and physically exhausted from everything but still wanting more than anything to understand.

When you looked perhaps more stable, he looked back at the box that he'd set down beside him and placed it on his lap delicately as he spoke, his words echoing out slowly.

"I know you think I've just realized my feelings for you a week ago, and that they came from some kiss at a party. But, you have to believe me when I say that they're so much more than that." He placed the box in your hands, and you took it from him with a note of fragility, resting it atop your legs. His eyes bore into yours, like it would break him if you couldn't understand the words leaving his lips. He took a shaky breath in. "I need you to know, more than anything, that you're everything to me. You always have been."

Your lips began to shake at the earth-shattering words coming from your best friend's lips. "James, what-"

He stopped you with a gesture of his head that told you to look inside the box, and you did. Carefully, you lifted the flimsy cardboard top and placed it to the side, brows pulling together tight and something loud and hearty threatening to pull from your chest. You shook your head as tears began to well over your eyes again as you recognized what James had given you.

The box, the measly and old mess of cardboard and paper, was full of all the letters you'd written to him over the years���all the thank you notes, the letters you'd sent him from that summer and all the past ones—every single one of them. Your eyes raked over each of them when you felt too stunned to use your hands, but your heart still felt touched by the memories of each one all the same. It took everything in you not to release the sob you felt rising in your lungs.

"It's you. It's always been you."

James's eyes never left your face as you took everything in, the look behind them never having seemed so determined, so desperate. But there was something behind the way he looked at you, something so warm and honest, so familiar that you felt ridiculous for never noticing it before. And when your gaze flickered downward for a second in contemplation he tipped his head to follow it endearingly.

"Always," he promised. "Not Evans, not anyone else. I know I'm a bloody idiot, and I know I haven't been great at showing my emotions when it comes to you, but that's because it's you, and you mean everything to me and have since we were kids, and if this can't make you see that then I promise I'll spend every day trying to make up for it, and-"

"James." You stopped him, not knowing how much longer you could take sitting next to him and not getting rid of the frustrated crease between his brows, or how much longer you could ignore the thrum of your heart that called out to him so clearly now.

"Yeah?" he asked, and his eyes were like a deer in headlights. The warmth in their color reflected the simmering warmth from the fireplace, but that didn't compare to the fire that lay behind his gaze.

You placed the box, his box of the last six years of your friendship and then some, atop the couch next to you, and didn't wait another second before engulfing him in a hug. Your body crashed into his as he leaned back against the couch, his hands coming up to embrace you right away, and you heard him breathe a smile by your ear before he laughed, a perfect noise.

You felt like laughing then too, and crying, and everything else, because you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to hold him like this without the fear of revealing too much to him nagging at you. Your cheek pressed against his neck, his curls fanned against the top of your head, his hands held you tight, and you never wanted to leave the safety of his arms. Except to do one thing.

You pulled away from the hug and so did James after a second, his eyes wide and glistening but truly happy. He was smiling widely, his lopsided grin appearing after days like the sun after a storm, and you loved the sight more than anything, locking it away in the back of your mind as a memory you'd keep forever, like the box that sat next to you.

You laid a hand on his chest, another on his cheek, and James grasped the one that was flattened on his chest in his own, quickly glancing down at your hand in his like he couldn't believe he was holding it. He pulled you into him with it and leaned his head on yours.

"It's always been you, too," you whispered, and his eyes glanced down at your lips as you said the quiet words that'd been lingering on your lips for much too long. You had to push away your smile because you were aching to just kiss him like you'd wanted to for years. With a courage that could've only come from Godric himself, you finally did.

You leaned in until your lips met, a flutter of skin dancing shyly together until you leaned into him even further, and suddenly it felt like the crash of a wave, and sounded like the earth was moving beneath your feet, the sound of something right—and this time, you knew it felt the same for him too, because you could feel his boyish grin that you'd spent years admiring tugging against your lips.

You were kissing your best friend. For real this time. It felt so impossible for your mind to imagine such a thing, but luckily it didn't have to.

James moved his hands but they never left you, one sliding through your hair smoothly and one delicately holding your waist like you were something fragile. Butterflies fluttered through you at his touch, something familiar but foreign, wrong but also right, and somessilyperfect. You couldn't believe you'd spent all those years just a few words away from getting to feel it, getting to be surrounded by it.

You pulled away after a moment, your lips feeling puffy and burning with the heat of his kiss, but all you could think about was how free you felt, how happy you were that he was finally yours.

James looked down at you, his eyes dancing all across your face and stopping on your lips, and then somehow growing even warmer when they met yours again.

"I can't-" he began with a slight disbelieving shake of his head, voice coming out breathless and dazed as heat flushed into your own cheeks at the sight. "I can't believe..."

You laughed, feeling out of breath too, and adjusted the glasses that now perched crookedly on James's nose in an agonizingly cute way.

"Me neither," you finished for him, because you knew just how he felt, a secret the both of you shared; it was the only secret you still wanted to keep.

And it was a feeling you never wanted to have to live without again. Though now, with him in your arms and his familiar chocolate curls still brushing against your forehead, you knew you would never have to.

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crumbling under pressure

part 4 of adrenaline junkie

barça x reader

r continues to struggle in Alexia's absence. Alexia worries over how she's going to get r to realize she needs, and deserves, help.

-----

You don't sleep a wink that night. Even though Lucy sleeps downstairs on the couch, and even though you sneak into Alexia's empty bed halfway through the night, you can't get yourself to fall asleep. Every time you get close, your body jerks back awake, terrified of what horrors await it once your eyes shut. You don't feel safe enough to fall asleep, and there isn't much you can do about that. You aren't really even that upset, because Alexia would be back the next day, and really, was having another nightmare while she was gone something you really wanted to deal with?

You weren't stupid, and you knew that this wasn't sustainable. Something would have to change, likely once Alexia returned home, and although you were pretty sure it would be something you didn't want, like therapy or sleeping pills, the relief that someone would just fix it for you was hard to ignore.

And then, the next day, Lucy looked at you, when you came down the stairs, slowly, as your ribs were extra sore from yesterdays incident, with a strange expression on her face. Lucy only looked like that when something was wrong. She'd looked at you like that when she'd needed knee surgery last year, when Keira had gone down at the world cup. It was the look you saw on her face in the hospital when you woke.

It made your heart fall out of your chest, that look. You hated it, and you hated whatever Lucy was about to say.

"What?" You asked, voice already shaking.

"It's not that big of a deal," Lucy prefaced. It didn't make you feel much better. "There's some snow storm in Sweden, so the team can't get back until tomorrow."

Lucy assumed you would relax. It wasn't that big of a deal, really. No one was hurt, or dead. She hadn't considered just how much you'd been relying on Alexia the past few days, though, not until you visibly crumpled at her words. It made sense; Alexia was providing you stability in a time where your whole life felt like it had turned upside down. Stability was never something you'd had much of in your life, and Lucy hadn't realized how much you'd needed it until this moment. Being injured was never easy, but pair that with a near death experience? It was a miracle you'd let Alexia leave the country in the first place.

"Oh. Okay. That's cool." You said lamely, although your body language told an entirely different story.

"Alexia says she's really sorry, and that you can call her whenever you want. And I'll stay, of course."

"No, Luce, you have to go home." You frowned, shaking your head.

"No, I don't." Lucy said stubbornly.

"Have you forgotten the existence of Narla and Coco?"

"They're both away for training. They've been having some... behavioral issues."

"What did Narla do?" You smirk.

"Nothing! The fight wasn't her fault. Coco is always getting her all riled up. And don't change the subject! I'm staying here until Alexia gets back, whether you like it or not."

"I don't like it. I'm fine."

"If you say that one more time, I'm going to poke you in the rib really hard, and see how fine you are then!" Lucy said, stepping menacingly towards you.

Your eyes widened and you threw your good arm up in the air in surrender. "Damn, Lucy. When did you get so strict?"

"Stop deflecting! You're upset, and I'm staying. That's final."

"You sound like Leah," you mumble, but turn and retreat back to your room without further argument. What was another night with no sleep?

-----

Stupid Sweden. Stupid snow. You're going on 48 hours with no sleep, and it's clearly catching up with you. Alexia should be back from the airport in the next few minutes, finally. You feel like you're going crazy, like your brain isn't functioning correctly.

The dogs had returned from their little vacation, and you'd convinced Lucy to go home, even though she'd wanted to wait until Alexia got back. You weren't eager for them to talk, and for Lucy to tell Alexia just how poorly you'd been doing, so you were glad when Lucy begrudgingly left a few hours before your captain was due back.

What you didn't know, though, was that Lucy had clued Alexia in to the problem at hand earlier when she'd insisted you take a walk around the block and get some fresh air.

-----

"Hola Capi," Lucy said, hearing her teammates chattering in the background. They were at the airport, waiting to board their plane.

"Hi Lucia. How is she?" Alexia asked. She'd been feeling horrifically guilty that she'd had to be gone another night, as had the rest of the team. They'd all wanted to check up on you, having barely seen you since the accident. You didn't not want to see them, per say , it just seemed overwhelming, and Alexia had been limiting your visitors.

"She's... okay." Lucy said, not really sure that she wanted to worry the midfielder when she was already going to be home as soon as she could.

"That was not reassuring, Lucia. What have you done to my kid?" Alexia said, elbowing Mapi next to her when the defender laughed at the way Alexia was referring to you.

"I haven't done anything!" Lucy said indignantly. Alexia was silent, and Lucy could picture the look on her face, brows furrowed slightly, waiting for Lucy to just get out with it. "I don't think she slept last night. Or the night before." She admitted.

"At all?" Alexia frowned. This was completely unlike you; you loved to sleep. A lot. So much that it was almost an issue. She knew you'd been having nightmares, but she didn't think they'd impede your ability to sleep completely.

"I don't think so. I checked on her, and she acted like she was asleep, but she's practically catatonic today, and she looks exhausted. I don't think she's going to sleep until you're back, honestly."

"Fuck. Okay. Thank you for staying with her, Luce, I appreciate it."

"Anytime. She was England's kid first." Lucy reminded her, prompting a laugh from the Spaniard.

"Well, you can have the most stubborn girl in the world back anytime."

"I don't think she'll be interested, she's pretty attached to you." Alexia felt a wave of guilt wash over her at her teammates words. She shouldn't have left you. Your whole life, no one had bothered to stick around long enough to make sure you were okay, and she'd basically done that to you. She hung up with Lucy, spending the rest of the trip back silently worrying about you.

-----

You were trying to fold laundry when Alexia arrived home, sat on the couch, doing your best to keep things neat with one arm in a sling. The door banged open, in the way it always did when Alexia arrived home with a suitcase. You watched her walk in, eyes immediately scanning the room for you. You rose, tossing aside the t-shirt of hers you'd been [trying] to fold.

"Pequeña," she said, dropping her bag to pull you into a gentle hug.

"Hi Ale," you said, words muffled against her sweatshirt. She pulled back after a moment, tilting your chin up to look at your face.

"You look awful."

"Thank you. I'm so glad you're home, you always know just what to say." You said sarcastically.

Alexia rolled her eyes. "Seriously, you look like you haven't slept since I've been gone." She accused, doing her best not to sound upset; worry had the tendency to do that to her, making her sound frustrated when really, she was only concerned.

You shrugged, pulling away to allow her to walk fully into the house.

"Lucy told me you didn't sleep, so don't even try to pretend. And why are you folding laundry? You're supposed to be resting." Alexia scolded, and your face grew tense.

"I slept fine," you snapped, pissed at Lucy for telling, at Alexia for leaving, and at yourself, for being so pathetic that you couldn't sleep without Alexia there to make you feel safe. "Sorry I folded, I was just trying to be helpful. I'll stop doing that from now on, and just lay, motionless, for the rest of my fucking life."

Your voice had raised into a shout, and Alexia froze, blinking at you in surprise. Not really at your anger, because you were... rather known for your outbursts; it was expected, you were still growing. No, she was surprised at the pure hatred in your voice, seemingly directed towards yourself.

"Go upstairs, go lay down. I'll be there after I shower." Alexia said gently, not acknowledging the shouting at all. This only seemed to make you more upset.

"I'm fine. I don't need to lay down," you scowled, the words hurled viciously at the woman in front of you.

"Go lay down." Alexia repeated, still pretending that you weren't shouting at her. With a loud huff, you stormed off towards the stairs, taking the time to shove over a pile of clothes you'd folded. You stomped up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door impressively loudly behind you.

You were exhausted, she could tell. And, very obviously, having a hard time. A harder time than even she had thought, and certainly one harder than you'd ever admit. You needed help, the thought was only reinforced in her head.

She pulled out her phone, texting Mapi quickly, asking her for the name of the psychologist she saw. Mapi loved the woman, and had off handedly suggested that Alexia get you an appointment with her. The blonde appreciated the gesture, knowing that Mapi would divulge such personal information only to help you, really.

Alexia decided to let you cool down, bringing her bag to her room and getting ready to shower. She saw the sheets on the bed crumpled, in a way she hadn't left them, and realized you must have tried to sleep here at some point. Her heart felt like it was cracking in two at the realization.

-----

You'd calmed down significantly since storming out of the room, now sitting on your bed, watching a movie on the TV on the dresser. Your concussion was much improved, and you were allowed more screen time now, so you weren't completely bored.

You were so tired, deep in the core of your being, just completely and entirely exhausted, but your eyes wouldn't shut, even with Alexia back in the house. You were beginning to think you might never sleep again when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Alexia called from the hallway.

"Yeah."

She opened the door, and entered the room. You kept your eyes on the screen, feeling more than a little embarrassed about your outburst before. You were supposed to be an adult.

Alexia was undeterred, though, sliding onto the bed next to you. You were only under a throw blanket, and she tugged on the side of it, until you lifted the edge allowing her to scoot under. You both leaned back up against the cushy headboard, watching an episode of Love Island in silence.

"Sorry for yelling." You said finally, eyes still trained on the screen, even as you felt Alexia turn to look down at you.

"It's alright, pequeña. I'm more worried about you not sleeping."

You don't deny it this time. Alexia takes the remote from where you'd discarded it on the bed, turning the TV off. Only then do you bring your eyes up to meet hers.

"What's going on?" Alexia prompted you.

"I don't know. I had that nightmare, and I called you. And I tried to sleep after that, but I couldn't, my body wouldn't let me fall asleep."

Alexia studied you, and you knew what she was looking at; bloodshot eyes, dark bags under your eyes, slightly groggy expression on your face.

"How can I get you to sleep?" She asks finally.

You look away from her, and she knows you have an answer, but you're too embarrassed to say it. She nudges you with her leg, poking your shin with her foot until you look at her, slightly annoyed.

"Can you stay?" You ask her, eyes fixed on your hands fidgeting with each other.

"Of course I can." Alexia says, relieved that you've finally stated what will help. You don't detect any annoyance or hesitancy in her face so you scoot closer, until the side of you is pressed up against her, and only then do feel your eyes finally sliding shut.

You fall asleep insanely quickly, breathing evening out before Alexia had time to grab her phone and look at the text she got back from Mapi. It contained a name, and an offer, one that Alexia felt she was likely to take.

-----

Mapi hadn't wanted to start therapy, not at all. But, like most positive changes that had occurred in her life, Ingrid had talked her into it. Now, she wasn't sure she would have made it through the past year without it. Alexia had, much to her mother's annoyance, never really considered therapy as an option. It wasn't the healthiest choice, but it was a choice she'd made. And this was precisely why she figured Mapi would be better to talk to you about going than she was.

It was clear you needed it, desperately. Though you'd slept for almost 14 hours uninterrupted the day she'd arrived home from Sweden, you weren't really doing any better.

You knew Alexia was up to something when she announced she was going to get coffee, and didn't try to force you to come. Your suspicion was only reinforced when she casually mentioned that Mapi might stop by while she was gone. You had no choice but to sit, and wait for whatever ghastly intervention was headed your way.

You were surprised, though, when you opened the door to both Mapi and Ingrid standing on the front porch. You hadn't been expecting the Norwegian, and it wasn't that you were upset, it was just... not what you expected. She held out the iced coffee in her hands as a peace offering, though, which you accepted gratefully, gesturing them inside.

"So, where's your prison guard?" Mapi joked. Alexia had been weird about you leaving the house since the accident; you're sure it's mostly because she wants your rather battered body to recover, and only partly because she can keep a close eye on you when you're at home.

"Oh, give it up, Mapi. I know whatever is happening here was planned by both of you. And possibly you." You say, nodding towards Ingrid. Mapi had the decency to look slightly guilty, but Ingrid's face was unreadable, as usual.

They took seats in the matching armchairs, while you sat on the couch, looking at them expectantly.

"Ale is really worried about you," Mapi started.

"No, really?!" You gasped sarcastically. Mapi didn't look like she appreciated it, but you thought you saw the hint of a smile on Ingrid's lips.

"You don't seem to be doing too well, pequeña. And that's completely understandable. It would make sense if you needed some help."

"I'm fine. I just need everything to heal, and once I get back in training and back on the pitch, I'll be good." Though the change in your routine wasn't really making you feel great, your problems went much deeper than that, and your older teammates knew it.

"You and I both know that isn't the problem, elskling." Ingrid said seriously.

"What do you think the problem is then, Ingrid. Please, tell me, because I have no idea what everyone thinks-"

"Stop lashing out at everyone that is trying to help you," Ingrid interrupted. "The problem is that you can't sleep without Alexia here, you're have horrible nightmares, Alexia said you've been avoiding going in the car at all costs, and you told Leah you never want to ride a bike again, which is so unlike you, y/n. You're too stubborn to stop doing something because the people around you think it's too dangerous. You're terrified, all the time, and you don't have to be. You deserve help, you deserve to move on from this, instead of pushing everything and everyone away when. Forcing yourself not to feel it isn't going to help. It's just going to make things worse when it all catches up to you, which it will."

No one had dared to speak to you so bluntly since the accident, afraid you would crumble under the slightest amount of pressure. And for a minute, Ingrid was worried you would. She and Mapi watched as several different emotions played across your face. Anger was there, first, but it was fleeting. You looked defensive, then, opening up your mouth to presumably tell Ingrid she was wrong. Nothing came out though, and suddenly you just looked... sad. Defeated.

You slouched back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling, struggling to put into words what you were feeling. You looked so upset, both of them would have done anything to fix it, to take away the sling, and the bandages encasing your arm. The way you held your upper body so carefully, always conscious of your ribs. The way you could only wear shorts, leaving the large scrape on the side of your leg exposed for everyone to see, which they knew you hated. All of it, any of it, they just wanted to help, wanted you to let them help.

"I don't know what to do," you said finally, voice breaking on the last word. "I'm so scared. All the time. I've never felt like this before, and I just want it to stop, I don't understand why it won't stop."

"You don't have to try to fix it yourself, pequeña," Mapi said softly. Your head snapped up to look at her, a desperate look on your face.

"I do. I can't ask any more of Alexia, of you guys, of anyone. It's all already too much. I have to fix this myself, I have to." You insisted.

"I think Alexia would sell her Ballon d'Or if it meant you would feel okay. There isn't a limit to how much we want to help you, pequeña. You don't need to hide your feelings away because you don't want to be too much. There's no such thing as too much, not for us. Not when it's you. You're worth it all, kid."

"Why?" You asked, so quietly both girls almost missed it.

"Why? Why what?" Mapi repeated, confused.

"Why do you guys care so much?" You looked between her and Ingrid, wanting to cry at the way they looked at you, as if they were baffled that you didn't know why, that you didn't understand. You didn't though, and you were worried you might not ever get it, might never think you were worth all this.

Mapi looked to Ingrid, not sure herself what to say, but imagining that Ingrid could probably come up with something better.

"Because it's you. We care about you, we love you. You're an incredible footballer, but you aren't cocky. You know how to make everyone laugh, but you also always know when someone has a bad day, and needs something different. You're protective over your teammates, even though you're younger and shorter than most of them. You give good hugs, and you make the best chocolate chip cookies. You round out the team so perfectly."

Ingrid paused, watching to see if what she's saying is really getting through. She thinks it is, because suddenly, you're looking everywhere but at her, chewing hard on your bottom lip.

"You're a good person. Of course we care about you. How could we not?" Ingrid finishes. If her goal was to make you cry, it was working. You hid your face in your one good hand, shoulders shaking lightly. You hadn't really realized how much attention everyone paid to you. How much your presence on the team was noticed. You were so used to being invisible, no matter what you did, pushed to the side, that you often forgot; that didn't happen here. Your teammates had never, and would never, treat you like that.

Ingrid and Mapi moved forward on instinct, sitting on either side of you, and squishing you in between them. The front door opened just as they did so, and they looked up at each other, over your trembling body, exchanging a look of slight terror. Alexia was home, you were crying, and she was probably going to kill them. Once she made sure you were okay, of course.

"What did you DO?" The blonde hissed, putting her coffee down in the entryway, not even bothering to take her shoes off as she rushed forward, flicking Mapi and Ingrid each on the side of the head, before crouching down in front of you.

"Pequeña?" She asked gently, in the tone that she reserved only for you. You didn't respond, only shaking your head slightly. "You broke her," Alexia accused, glaring at the girls on either side of you.

"We did not!" Mapi yelped. "We're fixing her, this is part of the process." Now it was Ingrid's turn to flick Mapi, looking quite exasperated with her girlfriend. You mumbled something, but it was too muffled for anyone to understand.

"Say that again?" Ingrid asked, her hand resting comfortingly on your back.

"I don't know what to do, can you tell me what to do?" You finally emerged from where you'd hidden behind your hand, eyes red and swollen. "I don't want to feel like this anymore."

Alexia was somewhat lost, but Ingrid and Mapi were pretty sure that you were asking for help, finally asking for help. You didn't want to be scared anymore, and you were ready to let them try to help you fix it.

"Here's what you're going to do," Mapi said, suddenly serious and determined. "You're going to go to therapy. And it might be hard at first, but it's going to help, I promise. You're going to do your injury rehab program with the club, and get back on the pitch. You're going to drive again, and not be scared. And you're going to get another damn motorcycle, if thats what you want, because they're really cool, and the accident had nothing to do with you being on there."

Alexia had started off agreeing with Mapi, and quickly found herself frantically shaking her head at the other girl.

"Yes, Ale, she's going to get another motorcycle if she wants. She's an adult. It's time you treated her like one. If she's going to be able to trust herself, and feel safe again, she has to feel like you trust her to. Do you?" Mapi was never this stern, never this assertive. What she was saying made sense though, and all eyes were on Alexia now.

"Of course I trust you. I've never not trusted you, nena. I worry, yes, but I trust you." She held your gaze, and you nodded after a minute.

"Therapy. Rehab with the club. Get back on the pitch. Drive. Motorcycle?" You asked, greatly simplifying the process.

Alexia took a deep breath. "Yes, if you want. If you give therapy your best shot, then I won't throw a tantrum over the motorcycle."

"It's very mature of you to realize it's a tantrum, Ale." You said, cracking the first smile they'd seen from you in a while.

"If y/n can get another motorcycle-" Mapi began hopefully.

"No. I'll break up with you." Ingrid cut in, and her girlfriend scowled.

"You'll let me ride your new one, won't you?" She asked, nudging your knee with hers.

"I don't know if I can get on one. Ever again. I don't think that's something therapy will be able to fix." You replied, and the mood of the room turned serious once again.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? You're only going to do what you're comfortable with." Alexia said reassuringly, very obviously relieved.

"You think it will help? Therapy?" You asked, turning to Mapi.

"I do. I really do." She promised.

"Fine. I'll try." You said finally.

The girls were all smiles, and the conversation turned to easier, more fun things after that. It was easy with them, comfortable to fall back into jokes and laughter, even after such a heavy conversation. It was what you imagined it must be like for people to be able to depend on their families. Going to them with anything, no matter what the problem was, easily slipping back and forth between light and fun, and heavy and serious. You wondered briefly when you'd started to think of your team as your family.

The when didn't really matter very much, you decided. You had a family, had a support system. If they were there, you were sure you could figure everything out. Even if it was hard. It didn't seem like they were going anywhere.

-----

[comicaurora]

do you have any tips on writing soft magic systems? I only ever see them talked about when people are comparing it to hard magic systems or criticising it, which is a shame because I love systems where magic is just in the background being unimportant, with implied rules that will never be explained

god I wrote up like eight paragraphs of explanation and I was really working out some cool stuff there and then the app glitched and destroyed it all and I'm so upset

Unfortunately this reduces to a previous problem, which is "figure out how Tolkien did it and then do that."

Middle Earth is laden with magic. Hobbits being good at hiding is magic. There's a random throne in the ruins at the end of Fellowship that lets whoever sits in it see literally the entire world, and that's hella magic. Aragorn radiates One True King magic and occasionally heals people with a touch. Galadriel's mirror lets people see any point in time, past or future. Gandalf knows several spells, but most of the time he's doing less granular stuff by making lights or small fires or going all Servant Of The Secret Fire Wielder Of The Flame Of Anor etc etc. Elves are inherently so magical that the words of their language are never forgotten by anyone who hears them, the laws of physics don't apply to them, their havens are magically pleasant and beautiful, and the planet itself is magical for them - flat for the elves, round for everybody else.

The benefit of a soft magic system is that it produces a feeling in the characters and audience that the world is vast, wonderful and unknowable. It's at its best when it can answer why, but not how.

Why did the old empire of men have a throne that let you see the entire world? That makes sense! It's hugely tactically advantageous! HOW did they get the damn thing? No idea, doesn't matter, they clearly made it work somehow because the throne's right there. Why does Galadriel's mirror give you limited, randomized omniscience? Because while it's a useful tool if you can use it, seeing the future is a dicey and weird game, and the future can change if someone knows it's coming. HOW does riverwater in a birdbath do that? No idea.

Soft magic systems start running into difficulties when the writer needs to decide how it can or can't solve a given situation, which is a very common issue in storytelling, a format almost entirely centered on problems and solutions. For hard magic systems with clear parameters on what is and isn't possible, this is comparatively quite easy. The wizard can't magic this problem away because-

They're out of spell slots :(

They don't know a specific spell that can do that specific thing

There's another caster nearby stopping them

The object that lets them do magic isn't working

They need to speak words/do gestures/use materials to cast, and they can't for whatever reason

There's something "antimagic" around stopping them

Etc etc. The possibilities are easy to run through, because the "how" is clearly defined, and can be negated into a "how NOT." If magic uses spell slots, stop the characters using it by taking those slots away. If magic needs a material focus, break or destroy it. This prevents magic from feeling like an unsatisfying "a wizard did it" fix for all difficulties because the wizards can only do specific things under specific circumstances.

Soft magic systems can contrive answers to this too, but it can be a bit tricky to justify, and if it's Too Convenient it can feel like the magic system really just does what the writer needs it to do. When asked "why can't magic solve this problem?" soft magic systems can answer in several ways:

Too tired, sorry :( magic is Taxing and stuff so the caster can tip over whenever's convenient

They're in a Bad Vibes zone that's hindering their ability to cast because soft magic can be impeded by soft problems like "somebody was very mean here once"

That specific magic is tied to a specific location, like a magical elf forest, and doesn't work outside of it because it's intrinsic to the place and can't be replicated

There's another magical being around and their kung-fu is more powerful

These explanations work, but that's conditional on the story not making the audience think the magic SHOULD work in this situation, and this is entirely based on what's been established in the story thus far. If the wizard has been able to fly up until now, parking the gang at the bottom of the cliff and saying "sorry, fly machine broke" feels contrived. But if we've only ever seen other, intrinsically magical beings fly, the audience is unlikely to expect that the party's humble wizard will suddenly bust out a set of feathery wings as a gift from baby jesus himself. On the writing side, it's really a matter of feeling it out and making sure nothing feels too jarring - if the character who's previously displayed a certain specific space of abilities suddenly does something completely unrelated (like going from clairvoyance to slinging fireballs, or from a healing touch to earthbending) that feels inconsistent AND it teaches the audience that this soft magic system is softer than they realized, and can then make it much harder for the writer to then convince them that this caster CAN'T spontaneously manifest a power or gimmick that'll save them. But if the magical characters or objects operate within a specific space - one character that specializes in fire, one object that specializes in remote viewing, one artifact that lets its holder control the winds - then the audience will expect and accept things that fit in those broad, soft categories without speculating too much on the underlying "how" of their mechanics.

But the temptation to explain "how" is very strong for writers, and soft magic systems especially have trouble with this, because soft magic systems start calcifying into fragmentary hard systems when they're forced to explain "how". It locks in a hard-defined axiom that can be logically extrapolated. Because a soft system is not DESIGNED for that kind of internal logic, doing that will usually cause axiomatic collisions as they contradict one another. If a hard system is a crisp, geometric crystalline structure where any tangent line drawn through it will intersect cleanly with other lines in very predictable ways, adding "how"s to a soft magic system is like drawing tangent lines through a bowl of pudding - you're gonna get a lot of intersections in awkward places.

To pull an example out of absolutely nowhere, if a soft system without clear rules establishes something like "this spell can be used to summon an object towards the caster, but it DOES NOT WORK on living things", there are a number of questions that can become relevant:

Who made that spell to have those limitations?

Why can't WE make spells that DON'T have that limitation?

How is the spell defining "living things"? Would it work on a plant or a skeleton or a piercing in someone's body?

Why did you let this character use it on a living thing anyway, joanne?

In a lot of soft systems that try to lock in hard spell parameters, "who made these spells" and "why can't WE make spells" become the first and most obvious axiomatic clash. If magic can be created to do what the caster wants, why and how does that work, and why can't WE do it? This forces the writer to come up with an explanation to solve the clash without letting the protagonists make up whatever spells they want, therefore solving all plot problems forever - sometimes something like "the inventors of spells were intrinsically magical beings, like elves or dragons or whatever, and thus we ordinary scrub mortals can't make new ones." That's a functional explanation, but it reduces to a previous problem again - that this hard-ish magic system was created by someone with access to an unstructured soft system.

In a soft magic system, the only answer to the question "how does this magical thing work" is "because magic." If any other explanation is needed, things rapidly collapse into hard lines and axioms and covering for edge cases. How can elves run on powder snow, shoot targets in the dark and see for hundreds of miles? They're magical. Does that mean they can fly like a balrog or sling fire like gandalf or control weather like saruman maybe can? No, of course not, that's not their kind of magic and we have no reason to expect it from them. They're just magic. Magic means a lot of different things, and in a soft system the audience has to operate based on vibes rather than rules.

This can be difficult to balance. For instance, Star Wars has a soft system in The Force, and if you squint, every single movie and show uses it differently. It's not super disruptive to the audience's immersion because it's never framed like a Hard System with Hard Rules and it almost never pulls something out of COMPLETELY nowhere, but if you look at what it does from movie to movie and then show to show, it expands from "influence the wills of the weak-minded", "seeing the future a little bit" and "force choking" to "general telekinesis" and "limited telepathy" to "FUCKING LIGHTNING FROM THE HANDS MAN" which is a hell of a twist the first time you see it, to some even more buckwild stuff in the two different animated Clone Wars (like Mace Windu fighting an entire droid army Samurai Jack style and using the force to pull every bolt out of one of them at once, or the planet with the living incarnations of the Light and Dark Side) and the explanation never goes further than "The Force is magic, it's in everything, people who are good at The Force can use it to do a buncha stuff." It's not consistent, it doesn't have rules, but the audience accepts that Force users can just kind of do stuff that fits the Vibes of the stuff it's already been shown it can do. And as SOON as they tried to say "The Force is strong in people who have LOTS OF MIDICHLORIANS" everybody hated it, because it gave us a "how" answer to a question nobody wanted to ask and it made this pervasive, wonderous, soft magic system that Surrounds And Binds Us Luminous Beings Are We into "we are space wizards because we contain an above-average number of bugs."

As a chronic worldbuilder myself, I absolutely understand the impulse to explain and overexplain and lock in the Hows and the Whys, but as far as I can figure it, soft magic systems live and die on the writer's ability to restrain themselves from saying "how." The answer is "magic." The rest is just writing the story in such a way that "magic" doesn't become plot-breaking.

[thewertsearch]

We should hurry this along. My visitor is beginning to set things on fire. […] TT: Who? Some guy. I was joking anyway. I am not in a hurry at all.

You said you should hurry, which is different from saying that you're in a hurry.

If the Alpha Timeline decrees that this conversation will be rushed, then it's still accurate to say it 'should' be hurried, even if Scratch isn't personally pushed for time.

TT: I thought you didn't lie. TT: Aren't jokes essentially humorous lies? Jokes are only temporary lies. If the falsehood is never exposed, there is no punchline. If the punchline is never delivered, the lie is sealed forever, regardless of initial humorous intent.

And this is just bullshit.

First of all, admitting that you lied doesn't retroactively negate the lie. That's not how any of this works. Scratch is just unilaterally deciding that falsehoods only 'count' when they're permanent, a rule he pulled completely out of his foamy ass.

Even if we accept his premise - which I don't - he could still wait arbitrarily long before revealing his falsehood, so that Rose doesn't realize she's been played until it's too late. This definition doesn't meaningfully restrict him from lying, and I think it's purely designed to confuse Rose.

[…] Lies are not funny. TT: I think if you're going to risk tarnishing your record of honesty, you should probably get better material. My joke was objectively funny. Who would know better than I?

And these? These are opinions, which don't have objective truth values. There are so many strings attached to Scratch’s ‘I don't lie’ shtick, I could knit him a better outfit.

Not that it matters, because Rose is in too deep. She's not going to back out now, no matter how suspicious this guy is.

TT: So you're saying an inaccurate statement doesn't count as a lie, as long as you say "just kidding" later? Basically. TT: What if it's much later? Is it still "just a joke?" No, that would be something closer to a prank.

I appreciate that Rose is trying, but her language is still too imprecise. Scratch is immortal, and it's impossible to know what ‘much later’ means to him. For god's sake, he's having this conversation in a single extended second! Give us some hard numbers, fucker!

TT: Are you allowed to lie about playing pranks? If I asked you if you were playing a prank on me, would you tell the truth? I am allowed to do whatever I want. I choose never to lie. I also choose to tell jokes now and then, and to play pranks quite sparingly.

See, the trap Rose is falling into is that she’s buying into the premise of the game. She's delving deep into the intricacies of Scratch's rules, and in the process, has completely forgotten to be skeptical of the guy who's explaining them.

Scratch tailors his manipulation style to whoever he's talking to - and if anyone's susceptible to a nerd-snipe, it's the Seer of Light.

But I can say that I have never played a prank on you, and no statement I have made to you thus far, or will make in this conversation, will contain any trace of falsehood for the sake of setting up a joke or a prank, with the exception of the joke I just made, and another one I will make very soon.

Like – let’s take this statement as an example. We could review the entire conversation with it in mind, and try to puzzle out where the setup for Scratch’s second ‘joke’ is, if it exists at all. Rose is probably doing exactly that – and in the process, has completely forgotten that he just said that he’s fully capable of lying.

He’s literally telling her to her face that he’s deceiving her, but she's too caught up in his games to pay attention. This is what it means to play with your cards face up, and it’s as impressive as it is terrifying.

TT: I'm starting to change my mind. Oh? TT: Yes. I think your joke was funny in retrospect. Actually, your whole shtick is pretty good. I'm warming up to it.

It’s great! He’s a good villain! He’s a puppet who’s got everyone else tied up in strings!

[starry-nights-garden]

Ateez Reaction ✧ Seeing your ex in public

✧ Ateez all members x gn!reader ✧ genre: reaction, some angst, comfort ✧ warnings: implications of unhealthy relationships in the past in some parts

Hongjoong:

tonight is supposed to be unforgettably wonderful as you're on a date with your boyfriend to see an artist you both like a lot performing live for the first time

instead it becomes unforgettable for an entirely different reason, because only a few songs in, someone eerily familiar stands right next to you

you're not sure if your ex has realized yet that they're standing right next to you, but you sure are aware of it, and you instinctively get closer to your boyfriend

the latter uses the opportunity to whisper something about how glad he is to be sharing this moment with you in your ear, until he too spots your ex standing right next to and he wraps his arm tightly around you

"Wanna get out of here for a minute?" he asks, his mood immediately becoming serious

it takes merely a weak nod from you for him to lead you through the crowd and away from all the people

as you're visibly uncomfortable, he does his best to comfort you until you start crying in his arms because you feel so sorry that now he can't enjoy the concert because of you

however, he assures you that it's not your fault and tells you not to think like that, while doing whatever he can to help you calm down until you feel okay again

Seonghwa:

your boyfriend knows that you have a bit of a difficult history with your ex, even though you're mostly over what happened now

so when you suddenly spot your ex as you're out in public, he seems more tensed up about it than you are

his grip around your hand becomes firmer immediately, and you can tell he's not sure whether he should try to play off his feelings or openly glare at your ex

so you quickly suggest to go take another route to your destination, and when your boyfriend doesn't immediately comply, you get a bit pushy because you currently can't imagine a more awkward situation than those two actually meeting

he does eventually let you lead him elsewhere, but his mood stays the same all throughout your date, until you're finally home and you confront him about it

that's when he realizes he hasn't been doing you any good with his behaviour, and he finally apologizes for it

"I'm really sorry... I didn't realize I kinda ruined our date with that. I just... can't forgive that person for hurting you like that," he explains

and though your date wasn't as fun as it could've been because of that you also understand that his reaction is simply another proof of how much he cares about you

Yunho:

you're on a walk through the city together when you suddenly spot your ex with their new partner walking towards you from afar

them not having noticed you yet, you quickly grab a clueless Yunho by the hand and pull him into the next best store, the poor guy not knowing what's going on at all

"We could've just walked in normally if you wanted to check out this store so badly, no need to pull me in like you're running from someone," he jokingly comments, hoping for some kind of explanation for your sudden change in behaviour

there's serious worry in his eyes for a moment when you tell him that you are in fact running from someone, but he relaxes once you explain to him that you saw your ex walking in front of you and you really don't want to run into them

he understands and so he suggests actually looking around the store you're in for a while until your ex has hopefully passed you by

you end up having fun looking through the shop's assortment and once you're done joking around about the most questionable fashion items you can find inside you've already forgotten all about the awkward almost-encounter earlier

Yeosang:

a few weeks after starting to date Yeosang you run into your ex together

you split up on friendly terms so even now you sometimes talk to each other whenever you happen to meet each other

you current boyfriend mostly stays quiet as you introduce the two to each other, and only after a short conversation and saying your goodbyes does it dawn on him that that was your ex

it takes him literally the entire way home to process that fact and his feelings about it kalsdjföjs

"That was your ex??" - he asks that question in disbelief once you arrive at your place and you can't but chuckle at his delayed reaction

he keeps awkwardly asking questions about your ex throughout the evening until finally you figure out that he's jealous

so you give him a kiss on the cheek and you reassure him that there's nothing going on between you and them anymore

he'll probably need a few more kisses and some time to truly understand that you're nothing more than friends now, but eventually he'll be fine :')

San:

as you're out on a shopping tour he's still busy talking to you about the coat you've both been looking at and that he thinks would look good on you

however, when you suddenly stop responding he finds you staring at something else and as he's about to tease you for getting distracted, he realizes who the person is who's standing just across the street

he doesn't hesitate to take you by the hand, his firm and sudden grip startling you out of your shock and making you look at your boyfriend instead

"Let's get out of here. I know a better place to buy you a new coat," he says, even though it's clear he has a different reason for wanting to get you out of there as quickly as possible

will pull you a good distance away while always keeping his eyes on you, and when your ex is finally out of sight he makes you sit down on the nearest bench or wherever

"Do you need me to do anything or get you anything?" - asks that question while cupping your face with his hand and running his thumb across your cheek

will do whatever it takes to make you feel better and to forget all about that unfortunate encounter

Mingi:

he's a little slow in grasping the situation fully when you arrive at your favourite restaurant and you immediately ask him to go elsewhere

after all you've been looking forward to this date for so long, so your reaction makes no sense to him

that's until you manage to point out to him that your ex is sitting just a few tables away

he still tries to argue that it can't be that bad but you insist that it's horribly awkward for you, so eventually you leave together to find a different place to grab dinner

you can tell he feels bad about not immediately leaving with you as he seems absentminded the entire evening after that

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was that awkward for you to be near your ex," he eventually apologizes when you're back home but you assure him it's okay and no big deal

it really is just awkward for you after all, no hard feelings

and so the situation is quick to be resolved in his mind as well, and you spend the rest of the evening having fun together, forgetting about the encounter quickly

Wooyoung:

the urge to jump at your ex and fight them is huge when he spots the person who's suddenly making you tense up

however, with how you're freezing up and stopping in your tracks while staring at them in horror, he knows better than to make a scene

instead he puts his hands onto your shoulders as gently as he can so as not to startle you

"Are you okay?" he asks carefully, as if the answer wasn't obvious - and he realizes how stupid that question was too, because now he's trying to get you to move again without waiting for your answer

positions himself so he's covering the frame of your ex in your vision and once he can see you react to his action, he puts his arm around you protectively and starts walking with you

leads you away from that person first of all, and once he decides you're a safe distance away, he offers you a comforting hug which you accept

in case you have to cry out the shock, he'll make sure to take you somewhere you can do that undisturbed

Jongho:

you're out on a date when you can suddenly feel the mood changing

protectively has his arm around your shoulders and is pulling you close before you even notice that it's because your ex is just a few steps away from you

only when you find him lowkey glaring into a certain direction do you see their face and you shudder

upon feeling your reaction in his hold, he immediately turns all his attention to you and steers you away from that person

"Come on, let's go elsewhere," he quietly says, keeping his voice down in an attempt to calm you down

won't let go of you for as long as you're in distress, and if he does end up getting too far away from you and you cling to him, he'll go right back to holding you close

is going to buy you your favourite snack to share in order to distract you for now, and might even be a little too cute about it and deliberately embarrass himself to make you laugh

[lialuvsaven]

Happy Birthday, Aventurine!!

“Aventurine always tries not to remember. He's never synced the Sigonian calendar system to check the date in trailblaze calendar, never makes the mistake of dwelling on the memories surrounding this day— even when he's too drunk to remember his own name. Done everything possible to not acknowledge it; because this day feels like nothing but a curse to him.

Unfortunately, Jade has now ensured that he never gets to forget his birthday, again.”

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort in the end to compensate for everything else ❤️ Reader is not physically present in the fic (they're not dead it's ok)

wc: 3.3k

Aventurine was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door just as the sun began to slant westward.

With a sigh, he puts down the pen and glances at the wall clock. The hands on the parchment-shaped monstrosity read 1 pm, but his eyes are drawn back to the purple tongue protruding from its massively extended mouth. Seriously, where does Stelle find these items? "An ugly, purple parchment shaped wall clock that looks like it's ready to eat people"— isn't something most people would think to give him, to say the least. But that's the thing—it was Stelle.

She claimed to have found it during one of her "excavations." And even though Miss March 7th did her best to keep her friend from going into further details, stepping on Stelle's toes right in front of him and giving her a sidelong glance, as if he wouldn't notice, he could tell what kind of "excavations" would turn up something like this. Not like he minds the origins of this gift, however. Gifts from friends are few and far to come by, especially ones who actually tolerate him. Not to mention, Stelle likely sincerely believes that it's a cool gift, which is why it has replaced the diamond-embedded wall clock on his wall.

His musings are interrupted by a second knock, which, like the first one, reverberates once around the room before fading away in embarrassment. "Come in." He announces, reclining back in his seat and looking at the door with expectation in his eyes. It was not uncommon for his secretary to appear randomly in his office, constantly fussing over yet another minor issue. He believed it was her; at least, his itinerary showed he didn't have any guest visits today. Maybe it was time to replace assistants—the new hire is clearly not on the same wavelength as him. But he'd only recently had Topaz yell at him for changing staff so frequently; he'd prefer not to tell her that her choice was horribly disappointing just yet.

With a tiny bag bearing a brand he is all too acquainted with, the secretary enters the office. She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor the entire time, hence doesn't notice when her supervisor raises an eyebrow at the sight of his favorite jewelry brand. "Sir," she says in a low, somewhat flat voice, akin to that of a news reporter. "Earlier, a staff of Madam Jade stopped by. You have a present."

A grin appears on Aventurine's face, followed by a joyful chuckle. With how busy work has been lately, he'd almost forgotten when he asked Jade for a pink diamond, as has Jade apparently, seeing how long it's taken for her to send this. His request was a joke, of course, only meant to irritate Topaz. But he wasn't surprised either; Jade always takes good care of her weaponry. "Ahhh, no wonder!" He chirps and presses his palms together. "She must've finally found some generosity in her heart, hm?" He muses, and his assistant can only stand there stoically. He waves her off as she places the bag on his table and departs with an unnecessary low bow, never looking at his eyes once. As always.

When the secretary has left the room, he opens the bag, humming as he removes the box and gift card. Jade's handwriting is distinctive: prim and precise cursive that resembles a font.

"Happy birthday, Aventurine. This jewel would suit you far better than the pink diamond you asked for, don't you think?" — Jade

Kakavasha freezes. His birthday, she says, but she'd need to align the standard calendar system to the Sigonian one to find that out. She sent him a…..….a gift? For his birthday? 

Is this a fucking joke?

The box reveals a chunk of corundum. Raw, uncut, pink and blue hues all over. Shades way too close to his eyes, and it doesn't take a gemologist to tell that Jade had done her searching thoroughly to obtain this. A jewel the color of his eyes, the color of Avgin eyes, neatly wrapped in a box for….to send ..what sort of message, exactly? Oh Avgin, never forget who you were before I found you—unpolished and undeserving. forget your name, but never your roots.  

The note is crumpled and thrown in the trashcan, while the corundum and its box are hastily and carelessly pushed back into the bag. Really, so typical of Jade, he scoffs as he tosses the godforsaken bag into a random drawer, never to be seen again. 

Kakavasha— no, Aventurine always tries not to remember. He's never synced the Sigonian calendar system to check the date in trailblaze calendar, never makes the mistake of dwelling on the memories surrounding this day— even when he's too drunk to remember his own name. Done everything possible to not acknowledge it; because this day feels like nothing but a curse to him.

Unfortunately, Jade has now ensured that he never gets to forget, again. 

In any case, Aventurine concludes that it is not good for him to worry about this too much. Yes, he can just forget about the corundum. Yes, he is able to forget how it resembled Avgin eyes. Yes, he can also forget that Jade most likely sent this to "keep him in check" following the stunt he did in Penacony. But it was a mistake on his part to not see something coming. She had done this before, and it would not be the last time. He smiles at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, composed, shrewd, and calculated. Since a mirror has the freedom of choice, it does not return his smile.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

By the time the car comes to a stop in front of his house, Aventurine is exhausted. His chauffeur unlocks the door for him, and he makes his way to the elevator. Yet he's interrupted again— of course, because it's a cursed day, and Aventurine has to restrain himself from scowling at the gateman, who stands in front of him wearing an anxious expression. "Sir, your friend had visited earlier to drop off something."

He raises an eyebrow and is about to inquire when he notices the bag the man is carrying. Without saying anything further, he simply takes the bag. You are the only one who'd own a dumb clockie bag and the only one who'd ever drop things off at his place.

When he steps in, his three catcakes meow loudly to greet him, and feels somewhat grateful for it. Today was just too exhausting, after all. He understands what this is about, based on the fact that you always give him gifts in person. Why, of all days, would you consider dropping it off today? And with no advanced notice- completely unlike you. How annoying, did Jade really have to do this too? He's never disclosed his birthday to you, so you probably coerced her into telling you, and she was glad to oblige, given you are of value to her.

Aventurine doesn't realize he's been standing in the kitchen for a long time until Spade begins massaging its fluffy body on his legs. He is surrounded by his three catcakes, who are all staring up at him expectantly. The message is crystal clear: We Want Food. He moves swiftly to get their food bowls, chuckling to himself before setting your lunchbox on the counter, sort of as an afterthought. At least they'll be able to go to bed well fed tonight. 

After serving them dinner, he leaves the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine, hoping to spend the remainder of the evening crashing on the couch. He can just leave everything else for tomorrow. The benefit of drinking is that it can temporarily impair your ability to sense emotions. He only needs a short term fix, after all. Come tomorrow, he'll take hangover pills, and walk out of this house as Aventurine of the stratagems again— undoubtedly.

He turns on a random B-grade movie, prepared to drink the night away. And he does precisely that—he pushes down thoughts of how his childhood friends, whose features now misty in his memories, would react if they were to see him. With another shot, he pushes down recollections of his mother's cooking—the special meals for the Kakava—and his birthday. Another to accept the now-blurry face of his sister in his memory as the only proof of her existence. Another to forget the clay dolls she'd made for him, on the last birthday kakavasha got to celebrate, that were broken when he had to run for his life. And one more shot, and another, till he's forgotten everything; till he's numb and emotionless.

Feeling empty and hollow is far worse than anything else, and being unable to cry isn't as pleasant as he thought it'd be. But in his lavish home, where gold abounds in every nook and cranny, he has little reason for tears. Money may not be able to buy him happiness, as he is well aware, but it certainly does spare him from ugly tears unfit for his visage. Maybe that's why he hasn't cried in a while, or perhaps he has simply lost his soul somewhere along the way. He stays on the couch till 3 am, accompanied by his pets. He pretends not to see the troubled looks they shoot at him, whispered words passed between them that are clearly about him. By the time he decides to rest for the night, he is fatigued, sluggish, and barely keeping it together.

When he gets up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, Ace makes a protesting noise before promptly shutting up. Catcakes are smart creatures, and they understand him better than most individuals in his life (or maybe the difference lies in care) His throat is dry, and ice cold water from the freezer provides enormous relief. However, the respite is taken away from him by the crackling lightning, loud as a whip, pulling out memories up to the forefront of his mind again. Of the lightning without the rain, of Sigonia-IV. The drumming of the thunder is largely hidden by the concrete walls, so it isn't as hard on the ear—but it aches a lot more than it did before. Aventurine sneers to himself, dismissing the idea as ludicrous. As if.

The second time the thunder sizzles, Aventurine has to take a sharp breath and grip the countertop to steady himself. It sounds like playing dead in the bleeding streams of Sigonia-IV, like the booming cackle of the mocking thunder. Had he been an insolent child, just a little more doubtful than he already was, he'd believe it was Mama Fenge herself laughing at her so called "blessed child". The thunder sounds similar, but it's not the same. No, because this is still Aventurine and he's still here and those are someone else's memories, forgotten and buried in sand.

Aventurine sighs.

Drinking too much has never done any good to him.

Just as he is ready to leave the kitchen, he notices the lunchbox sitting the counter out of the corner of his eye. Oh, right. He hadn't even touched it. A distraction doesn't seem bad now, though. If he wants to fabricate a plausible lie about eating the food, he would at least need to know what kind of food you sent. If the mental image of your frown after discovering he never even looked at what you sent is what gives him the final push , he would never admit it.

The lunchbox has a plains bear cub logo: you've always been a sucker for cute things. He sets aside the little note attached for later this time, preferring to taste the dinner first. It looks like you chose to make him some kind of soup. Insulated lunchboxes are a blessing— because it's surely been well over half a day since you made it, yet it's still warm. While the presentation is relatively simple, it smells strangely comforting— effect of some potion? He's heard of those, but they're usually used for sick patients, no? Other than that, this is the first homemade meal he's having in a….while. Not that it matters. Aventurine isn't picky, and while the leafy greens are unfamiliar to him, he believes he can handle at least a tablespoon.

Even the largest avalanche can be triggered by the smallest of things. Just one spoonful, and yet it's enough to make his world stop.

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The dry, broken soil scraped against his bare feet, producing little clouds of dust in its wake. His strides were light and rapid, nearly tripping over himself with excitement and giddiness. Just a little more, and he'll reach the finish line. Even the Sun's typical glare felt kind today; warm and tender against his tanned skin. Jumping over the homemade hurdles, he reaches the finish line far ahead of his friends. They protest and pout, and he taunts them with the biggest smile on his face. The soles of his feet feel slightly sore from running barefoot, but Kakavasha wouldn't risk destroying his only pair of shoes for a game. 

When he hears his sister's voice calling for him, he rushes to embrace her and buries his face in her apron. His mother once told him that the Avgins all possess lovely voices, but Kakavasha believes his sister's is the best, especially when she laughs.

"And when will you listen to me and stop running around in the middle of the day, hm?" She pinches his nose and uses her apron to wipe the dirt off his face. Kakavasha beams at her with no regrets, proudly displaying the gap between his teeth. Once kakavasha had said his goodbyes to his friends, they walk hand in hand towards their tent.

There, his mother welcomes them with a warm embrace that smells like creosote bush and desert rain. “My darling," she coos, putting his small hands in her larger ones, rough from labour. "I remember you promised to be on time for lunch last time?" He grins cheekily, vowing not to do it again. (He's a repeat offender, but he knows that his mother and sister can't stay upset at him for long.)

His mother laughs, and tells him to tidy up before eating. Kakavasha's tummy is grumbling by the time he returns, and he finds the mats his sister laid down to sit on. The two siblings sit next to each other, chatting and giggling as they wait for their mother. She serves them a pot of hot soup with nettle leaves and lentils, just the way Kakavasha prefers it. He's overjoyed; quickly finishing his prayers before digging in. Kakavasha is a growing boy, and that's proved again when he finishes his bowl before his family.

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The soup she'd served him back then wasn't anything lavish; just a simple soup with local herbs and nettle leaves in a broth that smelt so uniquely of hers. His mama may have had a knack for cooking, but due to a lack of opportunities and resources, she never got to demonstrate her abilities. Compared to that, your food is much finer, and while excellent, it lacks the warmth of his mother's hands.  

Nevertheless, he can't resist taking another spoonful and quickly putting it in his mouth because the familiarity is so, so palpable. He recalls that his sister wanted him to eat better, so she gave him half of her portion after he finished his. His mother then gave his sister half of her portion, as they are Both growing children. All of a sudden, the bickering, the laughs, and their voices are as plain as day in his mind. He can't fully recall the glitter in his sister's eyes or the dimple on his mother's cheek, but it's clearer than any other memory he had of them, that's for sure. 

Aventurine can't stop crying, even if he wants to. Trying to halt the choking sobbing is fruitless, as is trying to figure out what's going on. He picks up the little message with shaking hands, hoping—praying—that it will help. You'll make it make sense. Somehow.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Dear Aventurine, I hope you have a wonderful birthday!!!!”  

Written in thin, flowing, rounded letters that are noticeably cleaner than your actual handwriting. You undoubtedly put a lot of effort into each letter you wrote. Aventurine was correct in assuming you found out his birthday through Jade, as you have written it here. "Buying a gift for you seems…a little perfunctory," you said, "so I've settled with cooking you something myself."

"And if the dish tastes familiar (which I hope it does) then yes, you've guessed it right— it's a traditional Avgin dish."

The perfumed ink is thicker here, a few ink blots from where you've likely paused to think, go over each sentence in your head before writing them down.

You mention finding the Avgin dishes by reading some kind of research paper on Sigonian culture and food, but Aventurine isn't sure he can believe that. You wrote, "I was fortunate enough," yet chance alone wouldn't get you something like that. Sure, maybe some doctoral candidate was crazy enough to choose a dead planet and its deader tribes to write about, but finding that paper would be too difficult. The biggest issue, however, is that Aventurine believes this dish should not and cannot exist. The stinging nettle leaves his mother used are no longer available, and while he didn't know much about cooking at the time, he was aware that all of the spices he knew were almost extinct. He's looked enough to know.

"I'll be honest, I had some trouble locating the ingredients for it and had to swap the majority of them because I couldn't find them. I really wanted to bring back a familiar feeling, even if it tastes very different from how you remember it. Plus, it's the thought that counts, right?"

In contrast to the light-hearted language, your writing is slightly wobbly and darker here, and Aventurine wonders if you realise your emotions seep through every single one of your actions, laid bare for the world to see.

Noting the disappearance of their owner, curious, the catcakes peep into the kitchen are immediately alarmed to see their owner sitting on the counter stool, sobbing and clutching a box. Spade, unsure of what to do, nuzzles it's head on Aventurine's leg, while the others meow in an attempt to calm him down. Aventurine hasn't sobbed in a long time—he can't remember how to anymore. His body shakes with each ragged and broken sob, sounding shattered and damaged, but he can't stop.

"I hope it brings you fond memories" is what you wrote down, but are you aware of the full impact of what you did for him? Most likely not. Aventurine cherishes all of his memories, including the unpleasant ones: as long as it involves his family. His misery knows no bounds, but he's only had a few years with his sister, and even fewer with his mother. So even the saddest memories are never forgotten, so he can preserve as much of them as possible. They live through his memories, after all. 

Even when plain, his mother's meals provided him with more warmth than anything else back then. To feel that warmth decades later is a blessing he can't repay— but a blessing nonetheless. He doesn't have many memories like this one either, gentle and happy, contrary to the endless memories of struggling. He remembers their love so vividly right now, feels it so strongly, alongside yours— that he has no choice but to revel in it.

(Come tomorrow , when he's sober, puffy-eyed from crying and not as vulnerable, he'll have trouble figuring your reasoning. But for now, he'll be fine. Tonight, he'll go to sleep feeling loved. Tonight, his pets will cuddle him to sleep. Tonight, he'll dream of a Sigonia Only he knows.)

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A/N: I'm honestly still so embarrassed about this bc I have an idea but can't execute it like I want to and 🫠🫠 As always, comments and reblogs are really appreciated!! Thank you for reading <3

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hero with chronic pain 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Some days were worse than others.

The hero couldn't recall the last time they actually felt alright. One moment had changed everything, had bound them to a wheelchair for weeks and now that they could finally walk a little, they dreamt of hope. But it wasn't alright, in fact, they were quite far away from it.

At first, forgiveness had been out of the picture entirely. They wouldn't forgive the villain, no matter how many flowers they brought and despite the daily visits. The hero had told them several times that they didn't want them in their hospital room but the villain had come anyway, begging for forgiveness. A few times they had actually cried and they had looked so rough that the hero had forgotten all their anger for a second.

But it had taken time to come to terms with their new reality, with the pain and the villain's presence. The villain, who was trying everything in their power to make the hero's life easier now. Many times they had told them it was an accident, that they hadn't expected the hero to show up that evening.

Sometimes, the hero doubted their good intentions. However, eventually they had forgiven them.

"How are you doing?" they asked.

"My doctor said I should take it easy. Less walking." The hero shrugged and closed their eyes. A few weeks ago, the hospital had allowed them to go back home. It was strange, though. They had gotten used to the steril smell and the blinding LEDs.

"Are you still pushing yourself?" the villain asked, "I thought we made it clear that you need to rest between physical acitivies."

"It doesn't matter if I rest or not, I am still in pain," the hero answered. They were beyond frustrated. They should've been on the city's rooftops by now, capturing criminals left and right.

"It'll get worse if you start jumping around. Or it'll never go away." The villain's eyes were on the hero, focused and intense. They looked concentrated and determined. Every now and then, the hero had noticed their little habits. Biting their lip when they were nervous, fidgeting hands when they were embarrassed, awkward laugh when there was silence. The hero had thought they would never forgive them but they were wrong about that.

"I don't wanna argue with you. I would lose anyway," the hero said and waved their hand to make sure the villain would realise that they wanted to move on with the conversation. "You're right."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I mean, you're doing pretty much everything. Cleaning, cooking, groceries. I don't know what else I could ask for."

"Do you need more time alone? Or do you need someone else to talk to? Maybe I could invite some of your friends. But I don't think they would like to see me. So, maybe I should stay at my place when they're here. I don't think they know what to do when your leg gets worse or when you need help though, so maybe I should stay close? So you can call me when you need me? Maybe?" Lip biting. The hero smiled.

"That's very sweet of you. I don't think I'm quite ready to see my friends again, though."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a superhero and I'm not supposed to be weak," the hero said. They could feel a sharp pain travelling down their back, setting their spine on fire. Again, they closed their eyes and tried to ignore it as best as they could. Sometimes, they would wake up in the middle of the night because of the pain, tossing and turning in bed with tears running down their cheeks.

A couple of times, they had called the villain. It wasn't that surprising that they would show up as quickly as they could.

"You're not weak, you're recovering from an injury most people wouldn't have survived."

"Either way, I don't want any of them to see me this vulnerable," the hero responded. "It's still a little difficult for me to accept."

The hero thought about their next words carefully. They were sure the villain was aware that there was something else behind the hero's behaviour. Something the hero hadn't told anyone yet. It wasn't easy for the hero to admit but right now, the villain was the only one who cared like no other.

"Being a hero is kind of the only thing I have. I'm not good at anything else. I'm not a genius, I'm not an artist, I am not too big on sports. I don't have a skill, I don't have any talents. It's the only thing I am relatively good at and now I am...nothing. I'm this broken thing that's useless. I need to be a hero again. I need to fight again."

There was silence. No awkward laugh. The villain's eyebrows knitted together and the hero realised that they weren't too happy with that observation.

"You know, you say that as if it's a well-known fact. But you do have talents. You're great with kids, you're great at speeches, the way you think is astounding. You notice things no one else does. You're a social person, you're a kind person. Skills have to be mastered and you've mastered being a decent human being. You're not useless. You're kind of everything to me." The villain looked at their hands. Sometimes the hero wondered what had happened if they hadn't been injured. Would they still fight each other? Would they have killed each other? "So, allow yourself to rest. I still need you."

The hero only noticed now that it was pretty hot in their living room. They had never noticed these things nor thought about it in that way but the villain was someone so close yet out of reach. Maybe they were right, maybe they were exaggerating. Whatever it was, the hero wanted more of it. Out of the villain's mouth, this sounded like a confession.

"I'm not perfect."

"I disagree," the villain said. "You forgave me when you had no reason to. I admire that. But let's not argue and let me help you with your back."

For some reason, the villain always knew when the hero was in pain and trying to hide it. This time, the hero was a little more flustered than usual and as they tried to fall asleep on their bed that evening, the villain's words echoed in their mind.

[hybbart]

Hi! I absolutely adore your work, I was wondering if you have any advice on getting your ideas and au's out there? Sometimes it feels like no matter how much you post/try to connect with others it's impossible for any posts to break out of the little tumblr interaction bubble

Well, I'm not really the person to ask this, cause any popularity I have at any point is almost entirely dependant on my current hyperfixation, and I'm not one to care much about it.

Mostly I have a good enough appealing and safe art style and good enough sense of humour that's easy for people to like even if they don't especially care about the content, and draw often enough that I don't get forgotten.

My current stuff is fanworks, which have a built in audience, so you're always going to be seen as long as you tag it properly. Especially if you're actively participating in the fandom. I also have the benefit of being obsessed with a rather popular duo like ranchers.

Basically, the notes I get are very predictable and temporary, and not really based on any intentional work. I'm good enough for casual followers to pay attention to as long as it's stuff they recognize. I'd say like 80% of my notes are from casual engagement who aren't really going to do much besides a like and maybe reblog just because they were told they have to reblog artists or they're using the site wrong.

I guess what I mean to say is, having those notes is nice and appreciated but at the end of the day I also have a pretty small little bubble. There's just a wall of passers-by around it making it seem bigger than it actually is. It very quickly dissipates when I draw anything out of the ordinary that I can't put a bunch of popular tags on. So, I'm not really the person to ask about that sort of thing.

That said, I guess all that might sound a bit cynical to most people even though it isn't meant to be, so I guess some actual tips might be in order.

Skill. Art's about communication and expression, which like anything is better done with a larger toolkit and knowledge. And also especially casual engagement just enjoys things of higher quality. Raw ideas aren't usually enough to get people to understand or care unless they care about you. To be blunt, sometimes people just aren't good enough or are too niche for a general audience. That's nothing to be self-conscious or miserable about, it's just something you have to be self-aware about enough to accept that you're not gonna attract people who aren't invested in you. If that's something you want to change by becoming better then you have to intentionally do so, talent is a lie.

Passion. It's obvious when your heart isn't in it regardless of skill level because art is about communication. And passion's what drives us to do better, it's hard to develop and spend time on work you don't really want to do. If you're enthusiastic other people will be more likely to join you in your enthusiasm. If you don't care or are burnt out people will notice. If you're doing things just to get attention people will notice. You have to want to create what you're creating.

Good ideas. To be blunt a good idea that interests people is just going to be more popular than a bad one that doesn't. Sometimes something that interests you doesn't interest a lot of other people, that's why you gotta make peace with caring more about quality interaction over quantity, and being more self-aware.

Making friends. Finding people who are as enthusiastic as you about something is going to go a long way, and people who aren't as enthusiastic are more likely to become enthusiastic or support you if you're friends and you can annoy them in their DMs with 3 hour tangents about your favourite thing. Honestly once you have someone you can do this to you stop caring about the other stuff. Art's about communication, like I said. Participating in events is a great way to make friends, but so is just reaching out to people you like.

Being friendly. This one's pretty simple. If you're a dick people aren't going to take the time to get invested in your project even if it interests them.

Being accessible. This covers anything from literal accessibility to having clean directories and tags, to anchoring/themed extra engagement. 'Do you have any questions about [character]' is going to get more engagement than 'feel free to ask me anything about my au' even if there's less questions to ask because it's less broad and puts less of a burden on the asker to come up with a prompt. It's easier to be broader later on when you have already put out a lot of information and people are more invested.

Being concise: Basically very few people are going to read this goliath of a post compared to a short, information dense, clear post. When I post art I try to avoid too much text, because I want the art to be the focus of the post. When I post writing I put it under a cut so it doesn't consume someone's dash and write something clearer above. The reason writing is going to get less engagement is because it takes more time and effort to engage with than a picture. People who aren't already invested aren't going to sift through 10 paragraphs of loose info. This goes for art, too. One piece is going to catch the eye easier than 10 unrelated sketches or a long form comic. This doesn't mean don't make this content, but be smarter about how you present it to take into account how it engages people.

Tagging things. Don't abuse tags or put irrelevant tags, but finding out what tags are frequented that apply to your art helps. There is definitely still an inconsistent limit of tags that tumblr's search actually pays attention to, so put the most important ones first. I usually put warnings first and foremost and put personal categorization tags last. Being consistent with tags lets people find stuff on your blog easier and makes you show up in a search more frequently, so you're easier to find for people who use tumblr in different ways.

Time of day. This one's finicky to figure out and can change but if you post when there's more people online... well, more people are likely to see it. Apparently other people follow like hundreds or even thousands of blogs and don't even look at everything on their dash, so for those types of people posts might as well not exist unless it's at the top of their dash. This also helps when popping up in more popular tags' most recent when people are actually looking them up. This doesn't affect posts as much as people think but it does enough to be visible. I frequently post things at like 1 am when no one's on so it doesn't get notes until later on and through notifications.

anyways, i hope something in there helps. If not, well... crap.

[toon-tales]

Is Anxiety the villain in Inside out 2?

First, let's get something straight:

These. Are. Emotions. Not. Persons.

Here's the thing, Fear isn't about being scared, nor Disgust is about being disgusted, nor Sadness is about being sad, and etc...

Sadness is about sympathy, understanding and listening and offering comfort

Embarrassment is about being careful not to draw attention, feeling ashamed, exposed, even regretful

Anger is about needing justice, feeling mad when someone does something that bothers you

Fear is about protecting, not just being scared

Disgust is about avoiding toxicity, physically and socially

Ennui is about irritation, pointlessness, feeling empty

Envy is about not feeling complete, feeling like everyone is better than you and you're lacking something

Now, to Anxiety.

I don't think you people know what anxiety is. Anxiety is a complex and misunderstood condition. It's more than just feeling stressed or worried; anxiety can be an overwhelming sense of dread that something bad is going to happen, even if there's no clear reason for that feeling. It's a state of being that can affect one's entire perception of the world, making everyday tasks seem daunting. Playing hockey, in Riley's case, is proof of that. That's her favorite sport we're talking about and all of a sudden it's a competition, an exhausting one

Anxiety often also manifests as a deep-seated need to maintain control over one's environment or circumstances. It's a relentless whisper in the head, suggesting that if things are not managed just so, something terrible may occur

And what did Anxiety do? Just that - took control

However, anxiety isn't that bad when it's controlled. It can actually be quite beneficial, serving as a catalyst for action and a motivator for change. Controlled anxiety can sharpen focus, enhance creativity, and even drive efficiency. It's like an internal alarm system, a gentle reminder of forgotten stuff

Like what happened in the end

Now, to Joy

Joy is great because it makes us feel happy and full of energy. But, it's not always perfect. Sometimes, if we're too happy, we might not want to try new things or be ready for when bad times come. Also, if we keep trying to be happy all the time, we might end up feeling sad because being happy all the time is hard. Which is what happened to Riley in the first movie

Joy, like a bright light, can sometimes overshadow other parts of our experiences. It's not that it erases parts of ourselves, but rather, it can make us temporarily forget the challenges and complexities that shape who we are. When we're caught up in a moment of joy, it's easy to overlook the lessons we've learned from difficult times. However, these aspects of our identity are not lost; they're simply out of focus. Once the intensity of joy dims, the rest of our experiences can come back into view. But with no joy to ease them, other emotions kick in, especially anxiety

Now, what's the case here? It's simple, really

The case is that Riley couldn't control her anxiety. Why? She wasn't complete, not yet, she didn't know what she wanted. But in the end, she embraced herself, all of herself, then she managed to control her emotions

Thaaaaat's it! Hope you guys liked it! As usual, feel free to add or comment on anything!

[icaruspendragon]

Hi! A while ago I saw one of your tiktoks about how northern democrats typically view people from Appalachia, and it really made me re-examine some biases I had and I deeply appreciated that. I'm from New Hampshire, and basically this primary season we were completely ignored by democratic candidates because of some issues with the DNC and our primary being labeled "unsanctioned". It was weird to not feel supported or valued by my party for the first time ever, (especially when NH tends to get a lot of attention) and it reminded me of your tiktok and how you mentioned that republicans tend to reach out to people in the south while democrats tend to ignore them as a lost cause. Because I saw that happening here with an insanly disproportionate republican presence in my state leading to the primaries. I know the comparisons aren't equal, but it helped drive home the message for me and gave me just a taste of what you explained so clearly in your tiktok. I understand if you choose not to post this, but I really wanted to thank you for opening my eyes and helping me face some biases I didn't know I had.

hello and thank you (for re-examining your biases and for writing me this message). i'm gonna use this as a chance to restate some of the things i mentioned in the video you're talking about.

i'd like to start this by saying i know appalachia and the south aren't perfect. there's racism and homophobia and bigotry. being someone who is marginalized or minoritized in appalachia/the south isn't always easy. but appalachia/the south doesn't have the monopoly on bigotry. america is rife with it. it's something marginalized folks all over the country have to face. and when northern dems act like racism and homophobia and bigotry are things that don't occur in their state simply because it's a blue state, they're doing an incredible disservice to the marginalized people that live in their communities who are facing the results of bigotry.

the folks living in appalachia/the south are heavily stereotyped as nothing more than ignorant backwood cousin fucking hillbillies, and while there are people that live here that fit that bill, appalachia/the south is not a monolith.

appalachia is region that spans from mississippi all the way to new york. the south (depending on who you ask) consists of 17 different states. and here's a little fun fact about the south for ya: according to the 2020 census, out of the 41.6 million black people that live in america, 38.9% of them live in the south.

so when that entire region is written off, forgotten about, and treated as a lost cause it's not the bigots that are being left behind; it's the marginalized people that live here that are being written off. the very same folks democrats and liberals love claiming they care about are the ones being left behind.

one of the reasons republicans have such a strong hold on appalachia/the south is because they put in the work to earn the trust of the voter. work that democrats just don't do. so of course republicans are gonna get the vote, they earned it.

other reasons for the stronghold existing (that people never wanna talk about for some reason) are: gerrymandering, voter suppression, lack of state funding that leads to lack of education, general lack of education, high poverty rates, lack of internet access. i could go on and on.

there are so many marginalized people that live in this region that are working themselves to the bone and trying their damndest to make appalachia/the south a better place for EVERYONE to live and when high falutin yankees act like every single person that lives here is the racist uncle you have to ignore at christmas, they are discrediting the work being done to try and change the region for the better.

allow me to say this again: when appalachia/the south is written off as nothing more than a home to bigots, it's not the bigots being written off, it's the people affected by bigotry.

there are people fighting to make these areas better. we are trying. so please, please stop writing us off.

we are not a lost cause.