#because those were one of the first things I made and they're not remotely up to current standards

[eachuisge-cc]

I always have a lot of projects going on at once that I work on sporadically, this will give me some idea how to prioritize things

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Chapter 97: An Old Love Story

Okay, say it with me: FOIL!

You can see it too, right? Looks like Martha x Henry (Henderson)'s story is a foil of Twilight and Yor's story.

Henderson was in Twilight's place; the smart, lonely young man so focused on his ideals that he was blind about who was in front of him and his very own feelings.

Martha was in Yor's place, the strong and graceful girl too young and inexperienced to know her own heart and that she was in love.

This is exactly what's happening with Twiyor, the main couple of the story, and I think we may get to see one of the possible endings for our beloved Twiyor through Martha and Henderson story.

Now, what do we know about these two 🤔...

We know that Henry Henderson has a daughter and a son-in-law. It was mentioned he writes to them, but there was no mention of his wife. This leads me to believe that:

His wife is no longer alive.

He lives with his wife, so there's no reason for him to write to her.

He is divorced.

So, with this information we still can't know what's the current relationship between Martha and Henry, but we can take a guess 😉

From the way the story is being told, it almost feels like it's a semi-tragic love story, doesn't it? We can almost assume that they didn't end up together...or did they?

Theory one: Yup, everyone is right and Martha and Henderson eventually went their separate ways for reasons we'll probably get to know in the next couple of chapters.

If this theory is right, I think it's beautiful that they are getting a second chance 💖They certainly look more mature, confident, and calm (also elegant!). I love the way they look at each other, so much trust and love 😌

Theory two: I know this one is a long shot (and Henderson just said in that panel that "She is merely and old friend") but maybe...they're actually married. Why am I so bold to even consider that possibility?! Well, there's this panel:

The matron is clearly teasing Master Henderson, don't you agree? If she does it, it's because she knows something. Either she knows that there was something between those two in their youth or she knows they are married. I don't know, but they way she said the word "partner" and the fact that Master Henderson is married made me think that Martha is his wife. I know, I know...it's a remote possibility, but you have to remember that marriage is mentioned a lot through different characters and couples during the story, so maybe those two were actually married. (But, it's quite possible it's theory one).

Other things to consider...

How long have Ostania and Westalis been at war?

My guess is that we're talking about two different wars between the same countries; very much like WWI and WWII, where there was a brief period of peace before a second conflict. So, probably the first war started while Henderson was in his 20s and the second war started when he was in his 40s (and Twilight was a kid).

It makes a lot of sense that now they're in a period of "Cold War", just like in real life.

The Garden

I am convinced that the Garden is involved in this. I've talked about this before (read it here). After this chapter, I still think the Garden is going to pop up. Want some evidence?

Do you recognize this guy?

That's right 😏 That's Matthew McMahon. What is he doing there? Too much of a coincidence, don't you think?

And also the way this is phrased:

Odd that there was a mention of the word Garden, isn't it? And the fact that the whole story between those two takes place in a garden...🤔

In addition to that, in a previous chapter, Twilight observes how Martha moves like a soldier. Franky mentioned earlier that Garden people are like soldiers. And the Garden has a history of recruiting young skilled/strong people, like Yor. Things keep adding up.

The Consequences of War

This is a prevalent theme throughout the whole SxF universe: how war (violence, intolerance, manipulation of information, propaganda, politics) has affected the life of all the characters.

No matter their background, nationality or education, we've seen it again and again with most of the characters big or small, like Twilight, Franky, Sylvia, Millie, and now we're about to see it with characters from an older generation like Martha and Henderson.

My guess is that this won't be the last time and this pattern will continue while the story lasts. I think what the story is trying to show us is how war is seen by some (politicians and men in power like Desmond) as a natural, inevitable course of action, but at the same time how brutal the consequences are in the smallest stories. That's one of the things that is truly remarkable about SxF.

[agoodflyting]

Why Aziraphale's White Satin Pumps Are Ridiculous (And I love them)

So this is a continuation of the lengthy rant I posted here about Aziraphale's outfit in the Bastille scene of GO and all the ways it would have pissed people in Revolutionary Paris off. I got to the shoes and realized they needed their own post.

Aziraphale's Blessed Little White Satin Pumps

To recap: in 1793, Paris is in control of The People, who are making up for decades of oppression and poverty by beheading the fuck out of everyone remotely nobility-adjacent. And into this mess strolls one Angel in white satin heels.

Some facts about this style of shoe:

The buckle means they're specifically court shoes as opposed to streetwear. Buckles were out of fashion unless you were hanging out with royalty and needed to look fancy. Everyday shoes had laces by this point.

This heel style for men is specifically called Louis Heels because they were popularized by Louis XVI. Y'know... the king Paris just beheaded in 1793. Here's a pair in a similar style from the late 18th century:

One big difference you may notice in Aziraphale's shoes and the ones above is that the ones above are normal, practical leather whereas Aziraphale is wearing white satin shoes. This is because Aziraphale is ridiculous.

The Allure of White Satin Shoes

In this modern world of laundry machines and affordable shoes I feel that people do not fully understand how absolutely over-the-top ridiculous a pair of white satin shoes would be to people in 1793.

First off lets address the fact that they're white:

If you have ever known anyone who was super into sneakers, you know that keeping white shoes white is a full-time job. It was even more so in the 18th century. The fact that Aziraphale is wearing perfectly clean white shoes says one thing: "I am rich enough to be able to pay someone to clean these, and to replace them when they invariably get stained."

And they would get stained. Oh would they get stained.

Because he is not wearing them for their intended function - lazing around indoors. No, he is wearing them on the streets of 18th Century Paris. And 18th Century Paris was fucking disgusting.

Kind of like how London had its famed London Smog, Paris had its own brand of filth. A unique Parisian muck made up of mixtures of mud, offal from the slaughterhouses, animal waste, human waste, household garbage, and rotting dead animals, all mashed down into what a British visitor called, "A thick, black, unctuous oil, that where it sticks no art can wash it off."

Voltaire said: "We blush with shame to see the public markets, set up in narrow streets, displaying their filth, spreading infection, and causing continual disorders…" and called Paris a city, "Partly of gold and partly of muck."

This is a city with over a million people, with no central plumbing, and no public sanitation laws. Households threw their waste in the streets. Businesses like tanneries and slaughterhouses threw their waste right out into the streets. Horses were the main mode of transportation and nobody was cleaning up after them. It was apparently a thriving hustle that Parisian beggars would hang out in the worst areas with big pieces of wood, and charge wealthy people money to walk on the board over the worst puddles of filth.

That's where Aziraphale is wearing his pristine little white satin shoes. In a city so gross it has its own world-renowned stinking black mud.

And on the subject of those shoes, lets look at the satin part... By the 18th Century, France was no longer dependent on Asia for its silk and satin. There was domestic production, but it was still expensive. A book about the cost of living published in London in 1770 lists the price for a single yard of satin at just over 18 shillings. For comparison, here are some other things you could get for 18 shillings in London at the time:

two box seats at Covent Garden

six barrels of oysters

a really nice wig

a week's wages for a skilled tradesman

15 steak dinners

3 secondhand coats So the outer fabric alone on Aziraphale's shoes cost what it would take a skilled worker about a week to make. Again, that's just for the fabric. Since the shoes themselves were high quality, would be handmade, and required skilled labor, the shoes themselves would be expensive even without the satin. In 1788 a pair of leather gentleman's court shoes cost about 6 livres in France. By comparison, a pound of bread, which was considered a day's food for a peasant, cost roughly 10 sous. So we'll roughly estimate that Aziraphale's shoes without the satin cost the equivalent of 12 days worth of food for an average person.

And, I cannot stress this enough, he is wearing these white shoes, which could easily feed an entire family for weeks, in a city that is abso-fucking-lutely filthy with stinking, staining, sticky mud.

Aziraphale's shoes, probably:

I mean - imagine you're a normal everyday French peasant during the Revolution. You spend decades struggling to feed your family, and some dingbat walks up to you in white court shoes styled after the king you just executed. Shoes that cost more than you make in a month, which he is wearing around your notoriously filthy city with apparently 0 fucks given for the fact that they will be absolutely ruined and will have to be thrown away. (Obviously Aziraphale could just miracle them clean but you're a revolutionary peasant, you don't know that.)

And then this walking audacity asks you for cake.

Aziraphale, hon, you are so lucky they decided to try to execute you and not just like. jump your dumb ass in an alley and steal your pretty little white satin shoes.

[glacierclear]

Disorganized rambling lore dump for Eden (sorta for my own reference, for the purpose of categorizing thoughts!)

Exploring the concept of a werewolf who doesn't know they're a werewolf and lives in constant denial, despite all the warning signs.

D&D lore seems to revolve a lot around "rejecting" or "embracing" your lycanthropy and I thought it would be interesting to conceptualize a character that rejects it so thoroughly they don't even know they have it.

Eden Glee was the youngest sibling of a strong and resourceful family. They didn't have a lot. They lived within their means, and relied on one another. Eden was playful. Mischievous. Ventured too far, took miscalculated risks, and frequently caused trouble for their family. Eden was always an unlucky child.

They met the wolf alone one night. In an attempt to free the poor creature's leg from a trap, it attacked them, marring their face and inflicting them with lycanthropy. They managed to run home, crying and telling their family that a strange dog had bit them in the woods, unaware of its true nature.

On the night of their first transformation, their family was killed.

To them, they were the sole survivor of a vicious attack, not realizing they were the true culprit.

Wherever they went, death followed. They fled to towns. Villages. Remote settlements. Every month brought new corpses. Of course, they came to the most obvious conclusion.

With motivations unknown, the beast must have followed them, bonding on the night they had met.

So, Eden chose isolation. They ventured east, building a home for themselves in the deep forests of Cormanthor. They became self-sufficient. The further they were from people, the safer everyone would be.

Time lost structure. In the years spent hiding, months intermingled, and gaps in their cognition blurred. It no longer felt odd to lose days' worth of memories. That's just how the cycle worked when you lived alone. Surely, this is just that "cabin fever" people would talk about.

Every so often, they'd stumble upon new carnage. A desecrated animal corpse. A ripped up tree trunk. The remains of unfortunate wanderers passing through the woods. All reminders that the beast still lurked. It still followed.

And it was easy to take things as they came. To dismiss changes in their body as explainable phenomena.

Staring at the moon made them uncomfortable now. The light almost itched the blood beneath their skin. But they had always preferred the daytime, anyways. The only reason they were in this mess to begin with was because they were out past dark. It made sense to grow wary. Silver burned and stung their flesh. Mama's necklace had to be sealed away in a box. But their big brother once developed a strawberry allergy when they were young. It wasn't outside of the realm of possibility that this was a similar case. They had always preferred the look of bronze, anyways. Their family would grow wolfsbane. It made excellent poisons, and they'd pick the flowers to decorate their hair, even if it numbed their hands and tingled their scalp. But now, just the sight of it horrified them, triggering an almost guttural, vicious reaction. But...grief manifested in strange places. Perhaps the reminder was too painful, even after so long.

But, worse than anything else, they just missed the world. They missed friends and laughter and warm fires shared with those they loved. The weight they shouldered was heavy, but as long as the beast still lived, they would not risk another. God, they could not lose another.

They were beyond seeking answers. The best they could do was manage the circumstance. Ward away as many as they could. Keep people out.

Maybe there was no explanation. No reason for why this happened each and every month. That was just the nature of bad luck.

And throughout the years, that had never changed.

Eden was always an unlucky child.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

i'd love to see more from the poly reader x poolverine verse im obsessed w them

"I didn't realize your... roommates were home today," Your sister said helping the youngest into his coat.

"It's what happens when you don't call," you caution. "They live here. You want free babysitting, you accept the terms. Sometimes it's kazoos. Sometimes it's roommates." For now, you'd accept her calling them roommates. It was partly true. And it was less rude than what your mother had said. She called them your caretakers.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at you and you shrugged, "They're fed and in one piece. And Zach has part of his social studies paper done. You're welcome."

She watched for a second as her boys willingly accepted hugs and kisses as you ignored her, beseeching them to learn something at school and make good choices and she sighed, "Thanks."

"Call next time," you tell her giving her a meaningful look. You didn't live alone anymore. And if she didn't want her kids exposed to certain things then she needed to give you enough lead time to hide those things... Today she got lucky.

________________

"Shhh," Wade said, holding up a hand, "You hear that?"

"Hear what?" Logan said opening a beer.

"Silence," Wade sighed, sinking on to the couch next to you, handing you a glass of wine. "Holy shit."

"And that's why I like being the cool Aunt," You tell him yawning. "I show up late. I bring presents. I leave before the crying starts. And then I enjoy my nice quiet house."

Logan snorted and reached over to rub your neck as he took your other side and picked up the remote, "Nice little racket, bub."

You take a sip from your glass and stretch, snuggling into Logan's side and putting your feet in Wade's lap, "Not too shabby, boys."

"For roommates," Wade teased, smacking the bottoms of your feet affectionately. "Didn't know roommates fuck like we fuck."

"Sorry-"

Logan grunted and wrapped his arm around you, "Pause was doin' some heavy lifting there."

"Mom... doesn't approve. What dad knows depends on the day. And I think my grandparents would just drop fucking dead. So. There's that." You lean over and lift a sleepy Mary into your lap and stroke her back before resting your head against Logn again. They are who they are and you are who you are. You don't fit in with the cookie cutter perfect family they have and you haven't from the second you took your first breath. But you fit here with a variant and a mercenary and their ugly little rat dog.

"We could ruin Christmas," Wade offered, "Just go make out in front of-"

"Or," you hum, "we can leave well enough alone so I can still hang out with the kids and let them have someone around that's somehow less fucked up even if I'm objectively a mess."

The boys traded a look and Logan kissed the top of your head. They'd work out the specifics later but for now, as long as your sister kept her comments to herself they'd behave- mostly. As long as it meant you got to see the kids. Because it was clear it made you happy, and because; truth be told, it hadn't been too bad today.

Wade cradled one of your feet in his hand and grinned, "I got a question."

"Might have and answer," you tell him, hissing when his thumb hit a tender spot on your instep.

"Why do all the rugrats call you, Shush?"

"My parent's housekeeper calls me Sugar," you answer. "Everyone sort of adopted it and Zach couldn't say it- so it devolved into Shush and stuck."

"Stop it, that's precious," Wade cooed, "I thought they called you that because they were always telling you to shut-"

"Not all of us went to school thinking our first name was Damn it," you snort.

Logan smirked and let go of you long enough to light his cigar. "What'd she call your sister?" he asked.

"Honey. Or Princess if she was being annoying... it's just that neither ever really stuck."

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

(translator use, Sorry if there are any mistakes in this)

First, I love you, I'm super in love with hyugo and you're one of the few people who made x reader content with him, and the writing is so well done that God. It's beautiful 😭💙

Could I request some headcanons with a shy reader? Just like the one you did with Geo but with Hyugo?

Reticence (Hyugo x Shy! MC/Reader)

Thank you for being so patient with me Anon and @cuentademeri *quietly despairs and prays for forgiveness* and for reading my work! I had fun writing this (however, reminder that I am someone who isn't even remotely shy,so if the shyness part seems inaccurate, well, I tried). Hope you enjoy! :D

P.S Thank you for the compliments. <33 They're appreciated.

A/N: Btw if I take longer to answer requests, it's not because I gave up on them, it's simply the fact I don't want to make this blog quantity > quality. Also an original work for TKATB shall be out soon, so uh rejoice.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Reticence: an unwillingness to do something or talk about something, for example because you are nervous or being careful.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Hyugo first met you, he simply thought you were quiet, like Sol. Until he noticed you essentially never talked.

He wasn't concerned per se, more so curious. Did you feel awkward with him and Sol? Why even sit if you weren't gonna chat?

Tries to befriend you, is the type to wave to you and grin if he sees you around.

Is honestly a tad surprised when he finds out you're shy and reserved.

Doesn't have any issue with it though.

Will make more of an effort to chat you up. Words of affirmation and aggressive positivity galore. "The girls keep saying I'm hideous. I don't believe them but..." "You're not." "Yeah but-" "No buts! Those are for sitting! And I'm going to make sure said people who called you that won't be able to comfortably sit ever again!"

When you star talking more, he's a very happy man.

Likes it when you tell him things, doesn't matter what. He just enjoys hearing you chat about nothing.

He'll ask you at some point why you are shy. He's never been shy so he was curious.

You just explain you're simply not as outgoing as a lot of other people are.

But if you feel shy partially due to appearance woes? He'll tell you you look gorgeous! (He means it he just hasn't realised the extent of said words).

Oh, but if you get bullied? Doesn't matter for what, Hyugo'll fight those responsible (Sol's got too much on his plate already *sob*). Will stand up for you if conflicts arise, mf won't even bat an eye.

He honestly doesn't understand why people target you. You're sweet, cute, even funny when you start crawling out of your shell.

He's honestly angry about it.

He doesn't even fully understand why he feels so strongly about you, nor why he's so eager to see you.

Until one day it hits him. Hard.

It's not like he couldn't see it coming, he suspected it deep down, but refused to admit it.

He has too much shit on his shoulders to catch feelings, no matter how angelic or beautiful or smart you may be.

Alas, his heart has other plans, because it eventually will decide to beat solely for you.

Y'all are the classic "Shy x Outgoing" trope.

He's fine with it. He gets to boost your self-confidence, get you to open up bit by bit, until he's got tens of files on you; with only the necessities of course: - Where you were born - When? What time? - Parents? Carers? Financial situations (doesn't know about the debt teehee) - You get the point

Asks you out right after graduation if he's alive then anyway, to which you say yes. Obviously.

Becomes a very content guy, literally spoils you more than a king ever could. He's rich af.

Will hold your hand in public if you're shy or anxious, is okay with also not holding you if you wish although he will pout at the latter with his plump fucking lips.

Also boosts your confidence, eventually you and him end up having the most absurd, comical banter known to man.

Hyugo is am 11/10 bf, will cater for you, and will never tire of ensuring you're comfortable, content and cordial with him.

And you most definitely are. <33

[fairyrcts]

BAGS , M.S.

by fairyrcts contents - intended lowercase , use of y/n , cursing , resolved angst , 3rd person

an - first fic !

taglist - @pvssychicken , @gothiccvnt6996 , @emely9274 (header by @issysh3ll )

as y/n walked up to the triplets front door, chris opened it before even giving her a chance to knock.

"well, seems as someone was waiting." she spoke, givng him a face. he rolled his eyes, opening the door to give her room to walk in.

"matt's in his room." chris spoke.

y/n nodded before heading up to see her best friend.

y/n's had feelings for matt since they were in highschool. of course, she'd never do anything to put their friendship in jeopardy, so she kept silent. as much as she wanted to tell him just to put that label on it, she was content with their current friendship. they already acted as if they were in a relationship, but she'd always wondered if it'd be different when they had that label.

she opened the door to matt on his phone. his eyes looked up to the door, his lips forming into a smile as he saw her.

"hey, missy. how are ya?" he asked whilst he sat up.

"exhausted. i was just at the gym for like two hours." she whined before setting her bag down and plopping on his bed next to him. matt grabbed the remoted on his nightstand and turned it on.

"mm, i'm sorry. we can watch one of your movies. those.. indie films or the joseph gorgon-levitt one ya like."

y/n's face lit up at his words. "which one are we talking? don jon? (500) days of summer? mysterious skin? 10 things i hate about you? 50/50? brick?"

her knowledge cause matt to laugh. "i was thinkin (500) days of summer. i never understand that title, theres only like 70 days in summer."

y/n moved up and sat next to him, leaning against the headboard. his lack of knowledge made her roll her eyes. "it's because they spent 500 days together and her name is summer. so the movies is about what he endured the 500 days of knowing summer."

"you're such a cornball" matt's arm slung around her shoulder, pulling her head on his shoulder. he turned on the movies and the room filmed with a comfortable silence.

around 30 minutes into the movie, y/n speaks up. "y'know, i always thought that could be us someday."

her words made matt's breath hitch in his throat.

"what?" he moves himself up and took away his arm from her.

y/n eyes wandered his face, trying to read him.

"y/n you can't just fucking say that." he spoke with his eyebrows furrowed.

"i'm sorry, i didn-"

"no, that's not fucking fair. i just got over you. i spent the entirety of my teenage years loving you and you just now decide you have interest in me? that's bullshit. it took me six years to get over the fact that you weren't interested in me. no matter how many times chris and nick told me no chance, i held out hope. but turning twenty-one made me stop and realize that they're right. i, mentally, cannot deal with the fact that it took me six whole years for me to stop loving you that way, and you just start. i won't."

he was now standing up with tears in his eyes while y/n sat on the bed, her jaw agape.

"matt, i've liked you since we were 17. i never knew you felt that way about me. i never thought you ever would." she said just above a whisper.

"well, get it through your stubborn fucking skull, y/n. my god, this is such bull." he ran a hand through his hair.

"what? matt, what the fuck are you even saying, are you hearing yourself? you're being goddamn selfish. you think this is one-sided?"

"yeah! yeah, i do think it's one sided because you've never once expressed any kind of romantic feelings until that little comment of yours just now!"

y/n was now in tears.

"i- i didn't know how. you didn't either."

matt let out a humorless laugh as he began talking with his hands. "seriously? never? because kissing your hand, your forehead, buying you whatever you want, calling you pet names, listening to every song youve ever asked me to, making you playlists, opening up to you about stuff not even nathan knows about, carrying you around when your feet hurt, giving you all of my hoodies and cuddling with you while i watch an insufferably sad joseph gorgon-levitt film is so platonic?! is that so fucking platonic to you?"

tears started streaming down matthew's face as he spoke with such pent-up emotions. y/n didn't know what to say so she stood there before grabbing her bag and jogging down the stair, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"i'm not fucking finished, y/n!" he yelled down the stairs, but she was already out the door.

she wasted no time getting in her car and driving off.

matt was left standing at the top of the stairs, thoughts running through his head. he smacked a fist against the wall before sliding himself down it, crying his eyes out. chris ran up those stairs, nick following. they hugged him and supported him while he ranted on about what happened.

meanwhile, y/n dangerously drove with tears flowing through her eyes non-stop. when she arrives home, she sat on her couch, wrapping herself in a blanket and cried herself to sleep.

the next morning, she woke up with puffy eyes and very little sleep. notifications flooded her phone, causing her to look up at the lit screen.

matt

i'm sorry.

y/n i'm sorry

did you get home safe?

are you okay?

turn off your fucking dnd

i'm worried about you

please text me when you get this

i didn't mean to lash out

i still love you, y/n.

y/n rubbed her eyes as she read them, the message causing her to cry again. she walked herself to her bathroom and cleaned herself up as she called matt.

"y/n? i know i screwed up. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. i love you, i never meant to hurt you or say those hurful things, i'm sorry." his words came through the phone speaker rushed and panicked.

"come over. please, i just need you." y/n spoke softly with a sniffle.

"i'll be there in five." hanging up the phone, y.n wiped the mascara that was run down her face, but didn't bother changing into clean clothes. she put on the pajama set she had a few nights before, not caring what matt saw her in. all she knew was that she wanted to be in the arms of her best friend again.

matt walked in without knocking. "y/n?" he spoke as he ran to her.

her arms slung around his waist as his shirt begain filling up with tears. his chin rested on her head and his arms gently ran through her hair.

"you're okay. oh, sweet girl, i'm sorry. please forgive me?"

she nodded her head against his chest before looking up at him. she placed a small kiss to his cheek while he smiled softly.

"do you think we could work this out? that we could be something?"

her words made matt nod immediately. "yes, yes, of course. if it means being with you, yes anything."

her lips formed into a smile and without hesitation, she moved a hand to his cheek and pulled him into a kiss. his lips moved with hers and the world went quiet.

[hamcakevaletguy]

My thoughts on the Damien situation, from the POV of someone who’s relatively uninvolved with posting on social media:

As a newer fan of Smosh myself (I watched some videos in 2012, but haven’t really kept up since, and only started regularly watching the last year or so), I went through the backlog of content that they have because I enjoyed their more recent videos. Zayna, a newer Palestinian fan, did the same and found this joke in an old TNTL disappointing and wanted him to address it firsthand and make his stance clear.

For anyone saying Damien has already made it clear that he is in support of Palestine: it’s not a given that the fan who brought up the clip would have already known about Damien’s stance on Palestine. Yes, he’s talked about it in a couple of his streams and posted Insta stories about it, but a newer fan of Smosh, not necessarily Damien himself, wouldn’t know about those unless they were looking for it because they are:

temporary (IG stories only have a lifespan of 24 hours unless you take screenshots) or

a few minutes hidden under several hours of game streams on a separate platform (he talked about Palestine several months ago and has streamed a lot since, unless you know the specific Twitch stream and the timestamp when he talked about it or had clips of it, most casual fans wouldn’t know either)

In his defense, Damien himself has recently said that more fandom stuff has reached his timeline than he would like, so maybe he thinks more people know about his activism because of that. However, even if Zayna did know, wanting a straightforward statement apologizing for the insensitive joke (because bringing up the "Israeli-Palestinian conflict" [as it was called back in 2019, not accurate to what has been going on for 70+ years and counting, which is an ethnic cleansing] for shock value, as he himself said, is insensitive) is not an unreasonable request.

More under the cut

When all you have is 240 characters per reply, the things that you do choose to say matter even more. When you parse out everything in Damien's replies, he doesn't come out looking too good. Yes, he did apologize for the original joke. In his replies, he said:

using it as shock value was in poor taste and naive of him,

it was in poor taste back in 2019 and he wouldn't make it now

(in response to his first couple of replies) he is sorry for reacting in frustration and he'll learn from it,

and, in his final reply, his parting words were "With all my heart, I hope for safety for your loved ones. Be well."

However, he also says and does things that undermine his apology in the same replies:

questioning why the clip was brought up in the first place, as if bringing up old content wasn't something fans regularly do with things they're interested about and as if it's not still a public video fans can easily find,

bringing up that the fan in question had 19K followers, a fraction of the followers he has as a public figure,

saying that this conversation could have been done in private, as if an initial DM request wouldn't be buried in his other requests as a public figure, and as if he doesn't have the capability to start a DM himself to clarify things after the initial reply/post,

saying that the original tweets tagging him should have been deleted after his first response when he never asked for that, and just assumed it would happen for some reason,

deleting his replies a couple of hours later,

and blocking Zayna and several others who were only interacting with Damien through quote tweets (I'm not sure how quote tweets work, do they notify the OP?), some who don't even say anything remotely critical of him - in his defense, blocking is not inherently a bad thing, it just means that he doesn't want any further interactions from them for whatever reason. However, silencing any Palestinian voice isn't good, to say the least.

Damien has always been a proponent of “trying to understand and see from different perspectives” so his response here surprised me, personally. I get that he has a fear of being misunderstood, but jumping to the conclusion that the other party is purposefully trying to be incendiary is the opposite of that.

I'm not going to try to make excuses for him. He knows better. He's been a content creator for years. He knows he has more influence than any normal fan would. His autism is not a part of this conversation either. Mental illness is an explanation for behavior, it doesn't absolve you of the consequences of it. If you're citing Damien's autism as an excuse for his behavior, you have to also account for Zayna's autism.

People are also bringing up the possibility of Damien getting death threats as a result of this, which we have no proof of and won't have proof of unless Damien himself decides to disclose that. He has only stated that he is taking a social media break, which has been a long time coming, not necessarily only because of this, because he has been busy and tired in recent months. What we do know has happened is that Zayna has received death threats (weird of people to want the death of a Palestinian when the original argument they're defending Damien for is that he is in support of Palestinian liberation).

This isn’t an issue of cancel culture, it’s an issue of accountability and frankly, hero worship of Damien in the part of people attacking Zayna and other people on Twitter.

When the only people who had spoken about their support of Palestine in their own words, however briefly, are two or three cast members, some people are naturally going to put them on pedestals. This hero worship of Damien has been exacerbated by his image as the most politically correct member of Smosh, and Smosh’s (until recently) silence about the issue.

While we're at it, for people saying Smosh's sudden outward support for Palestine and joining Creators for Palestine is in response to backlash about Damien, or only in response to the block list going around:

It's only been a few days since the Damien's whole ordeal. Smosh is not that fast, and historically, their response to backlash would have been either complete radio silence or unlisting or privating the TNTL that the clip is from, combined with silence.

I’m sure Shayne, Ian and Courtney have been working on it for more than a few days, based on their liked posts, to get everything straightened out with the organization themselves and adding their names to the list of creators.

People have been asking for Smosh to be more public about their views on Palestine. Some of the cast members have said their piece on their personal social media, but their views could have changed. Those posts were made shortly after the events of October 7 brought even more media attention on Palestine and the Gaza Strip, which was not necessarily in favor of Palestine because of the effects of U.S. propaganda. It's been several months since then and people have a lot more information now, and more clarity.

Up until now, the only indication of Palestinian support not from social media is a brief statement from Ian who said something along the lines of "travel watermelon", while they were talking about their rejected roasts during Anthony's Funeral After Show in December, which are codewords that were used in TikTok for Free Palestine. However, this is heavily censored, behind a paywall, and temporary, because of the nature of their live shows. This support of CFP is the bare minimum of what Smosh could do, but the bare minimum is more than they were doing before.

They listed Smosh as the name under their $15,000 donation to CFP, not just Shayne, Courtney and Ian, which could be intentional, referring to Smosh as a whole company, or just referring to the three that have posted about it as a collective. Unless Smosh makes a full statement about it, themselves, it's still up in the air.

The timing of it is unfortunate. Damien has been silent about it so far, making his original posts about Palestine seem performative to some. However, it’s only been a few hours and he is on a social media break. The only thing he has briefly gone back online for is to promote something he's doing with Nintendo, which he could have been contractually obligated to do. He may or may not say something when he fully comes back from his social media break, but for now, that's everything we know. People can make their own conclusions based on all of this.

I am being very intentional with every single word I say on here, as to not be misconstrued in any way, however, if I missed anything or anyone else has anything to add (constructively, like images of either the actual conversation had by Damien and Zayna, or the cast and crew's support of Palestine prior to CFP, not outright anger and disagreement), please do. If anyone has any genuine questions about the situation, please feel free to message me directly and not bring it into this post, which is supposed to be a civil discussion surrounding more facts and events, less speculation. If I feel those questions have relevant points to add on here, I will add on in reblogs.

[jewishvitya]

I put the pictures under the text for. Reasons.

The thing about being called a self-hating Jew is that people who know me, know I love who I am as a person, even while seeing myself as a work in progress. And even more than that, anyone who knows me knows I love being Jewish. It's the core of me, the first thing about me, the only outlook I know to have. I'm Jewish before I'm a parent, before I'm queer, before I'm an artist. Anything, everything. Both chosen identities and not. I can't fathom any other existence for myself and I wouldn't want it.

Also, I didn't complain that I see Israelis as human beings, I complained about how often I think "no, our soldiers didn't do that" only to see horrifying videos and pictures. It's a complaint about how awful it feels when I'm wrong, and the awful things I had to see just to confirm it to myself.

The pogrom part. Not what I said. And not remotely what I meant. I didn't say "they deserved pogroms because they were zionists." Early aliyot were often made up of refugees that didn't have many other places to go because other countries didn't want us. And I spoke about this before. I'm not pretending every single Jewish person moving to Palestine was some malicious conqueror aiming to ruin Palestinian lives. I don't think anyone could ever "deserve" pogroms. Just like I don't think I "deserve" to be hiding in a shelter from missiles.

I said that, when there's a movement working with the British to create a state on top of the lands they're already living in, there will be uprisings, and those uprisings can't be used as evidence that Palestinian hostility is motivated by nothing but antisemitism. We know antisemitism was and is a problem not just in Europe but also in Arab countries, including Palestine back then, but acting like they had no reason to be against a state that always meant to take over their lands, for the benefit of another ethnic group, at their expense, makes no sense to me. Any group would try to resist that regardless of who's doing it. Even Ze'ev Jabotinsky acknowledged that. In The Iron Wall, he said "Colonisation can have only one aim, and Palestine Arabs cannot accept this aim."

And, a Nazi calling me a Zionist as an excuse to be antisemitic towards me isn't "leopard eating face." Nazis will be part of every movement they can weaponize, and they will act badly in it. It's not the same as the movement itself turning against someone. When I saw a different neo-Nazi using Palestine and sharing holocaust denial, I made a post about it, and among the people who shared it there were both other anti-Zionists and Palestinians. That's just a fucking Nazi. That's how they are everywhere.

[cauqhtz]

Luffy & Zoro thoughts

so I saw a post about how if Luffy asked zoro to kill one of the straw hats Zoro would do it. (Oda confirmed)

The majority of the comments were all like oh yeah Zoro would, but he also knows Luffy would never ask him to do such a thing, at least without a good reason or if he wasn't in his right mind.

This was also my first thought as well, but then I thought about it more. I mean I really thought about it…and that's not even remotely true.

Now, I don't doubt Zoro killing one of the straw hats if Luffy told him to, but it's the "he knows Luffy would never ask him to" That's the part I dont agree with.

That's just not true at all, because Zoro is one of the few besides Robin that doesn't try to make sense of Luffy or how he thinks.

But let's say for the sake of this argument that. That is true and Zoro knows that Luffy would never ask him to do it...That doesn't negate the fact that Zoro would still kill a straw hat if Luffy said so. So I guess that part of situation really doesn't matter. Zoro will do what Luffy asks of him either way.

Why?

Because Luffy is not the type of person/captain to give DIRECT orders in the first place. Have you realized that?

I can count on one hand how many times Luffy has given a direct order in general, but we're going to focus on Zoro for right now.

Albasta. When Luffy told Zoro to save Smoker. "Zoro. Quick! You have to save Smokey!"

Ennies Lobby. When Luffy told Zoro to cut the sea train carts in half. "Okay, Zoro. Cut them."

In Alabasta when Luffy told Zoro to save Smoker. Zoro protested not understanding why Luffy would want to save the enemy. Not caring about the fact that Smoker was a devil fruit user and would've died without his help. He expressed how much he didn't want to do it, but he did it anyways.

Ignoring Sanji when he picked at him for saving Smoker, but when Smoker came to and questioned Zoro on why he saved his life?

Zoro's reasoning was. "I was just following my captain's orders. It was just another one of his crazy whims. Pay it no mind."

I think this was when Zoro really started to not question Luffy. Deciding it'd be a lot easier on every one if he just went with it rather than trying to make sense of his captain.

Not just that but Zoro is his own man. He doesnt follow Luffy blindly. It's just that the majority of the time. Luffy and Zoro are on the same wavelength mentally. They're cut from the same cloth. Though, Luffy is more of a wild card. He does what he wants, when he wants, wherever the hell he wants to. Where as Zoro is a lot more put together and thought out. Luffy is pure instinct and feeling driven.

I dont think you guys realize that Zoro would've killed the lot of them excluding Luffy a long time ago. Especially Nami, Robin, and Franky. When he found out they betrayed Luffy.

Zoro has made it very clear that there is NOTHING that he is not prepared to do. BUT he always leaves decisions like these up to Luffy and Luffy never gives Zoro an answer. He always says "I want to find out for myself. I want them to tell me this to my face."

As for Luffy?

I do believe there is a possibility of Luffy asking Zoro to kill a straw hat.

Because it's like I said earlier. Luffy is completely instinct driven. He does what he wants, when he wants, wherever he wants.

Luffy woke up one day and decided to become the king of the pirates and come to find out thats only a requirement of his real dream.

So what the hell is stopping him from waking up one day and deciding you know what? I want you all dead.

The only ones I feel like Luffy wouldn't kill is obviously Zoro, Robin, and Chopper. And maybe Jinbei. And MAYBE brook since he's been wanting a musician since day one.

But the rest of them? DEAD.

What's stopping him from changing his definition of freedom and wiping the world of one-piece CLEAN?

Especially since Zoro would still follow him?

Get real. Everyone would be cooked. Those two have always been a dangerous duo even before their awakening and haki. They'd be unstoppable now of all times.

Well... That's my thoughts on the matter anyways..

[fernandopiastri28]

strawberry wine ~ mw2 x fa14

“Strawberry wine, and all the time we used to have. Those things I miss, but know are never coming back.”

prompts: - refusing reconciliation because they're still deeply hurt - being the other's 'right person, wrong time' - remember when they were able to keep the promises they made? *I reworded Mark's exact quote from “By silverstone i'd concluded, another year with red bull and that'll be it. Fernando did all he could to change my mind but it was too late” to “By silverstone i'd concluded, it would be my last year with red bull and that'll be it. Fernando did all he could to change my mind but it was too late”, as I've made it all that this happens over the course of 2013*

no warnings

2013- China, April

“I just don’t know Fernando, I’m not quite sure that Ferrari is right for me,” It seems not matter how much convincing and pleading he attempts, Mark isn’t seeming any more keen on switching to the scuderia then he had been at the beginning of the phone call when he’d rung his longtime friend, voicing concerns about the possibility of him changing teams.

“Give it a try Mark,” Mah-k , in all their years of friendship, one thing he picked up from him was the exact way the Australian pronounced his own name, the r translating to a h. Feh-nando , not fe-r-nando. 

The older man lets out a strangled sigh, slightly exasperated and seemingly at a loss for words. “I- I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” He admits, a quiet click of his tongue signalling the end of his sentence.

“Why not?” He can’t understand the resistance to at least try . Driving for Ferrari at a point during your career essentially cements your legacy in formula one. All the greats have done it- Schumacher, Villeneuve, Surtees, Ascari, Lauda- now himself. 

Mark should be added to that list. Webber should sit right after Alonso on the list.

“Because who’s to say I’ll do anything remotely remarkable at a new team? I could completely bomb out the second I step in the car. The devil I know is better than the devil I don’t,” Alonso didn’t realise when his friend had become this complete pessimist- the kind of guy who didn’t even consider trying. 

“That’s not a world champion’s mindset,” They both know he’s true. As a two time world champion himself, Fernando does have some kind of power over the other to say so- he knows first hand what it takes to be the best. “Red Bull isn’t doing you any favours, so really- how much worse could Ferrari possibly be?”

The Australian hasn’t had the best run being at Red Bull. To say he’d been bad would be an outrageous claim, and objectively untrue, but the Spaniard just knows he’s destined for better. He’s deserving of a world championship, and as long as he’s a second driver to vettel, he simply doesn’t have the car or the possibility to achieve one. 

“Seb is winning the championship currently, in a red bull- that’s gotta count for something,” Fernando rolls his eyes at the mention of the young german. If he’s the reason that Mark is so resistant to leave, Fernando would happily beat some wits into him, get him onto his side in convincing the Australian to leave the team that disregards him and treats him so poorly.

“And I’m second, what is your point?” Ah perfect, he’s got him there. When he doesn’t answer, he adds on, “Just, you’ll consider?” The question is met by a short exhale from Mark, shaking over the phone call. Picking at a piece of flint that’s attached itself to his fire engine red team polo, he patiently waits for Webber to cave and agree to it.

“Yes Nando,” His voice has a sense of faith and possible hope, “I’ll consider it for you,” It’s not a ‘ I’ll sign the contract now,’  

2013- Britain, June

WEBBER TAKES RAIKKONEN! From nowhere the Australian rips past the Finn, and is closing fast on Rosberg! Where did this pace come from? 

Fernando watches as Mark zips ahead in front, his pace looking outstanding from the glances he catches, trying to focus on his own face- aiming to secure another win for the season.

Rosberg has turned the speed on and posts a quicker lap than Webber in that one, and is 1.35 seconds clear of the Red Bull. Not far behind Alonso is all over Raikkonen's tail... AND HE MAKES A MOVE! 

Fernando catches Raikkonen at a vulnerable moment for the Finn, feeling no regret or empathy as he whips past him into third, trailing just behind Webber. 

1.2 seconds now between Rosberg and Webber - the German is doing enough, and will surely win the British Grand Prix now! 

The gap between him and the Australian is only getting tighter, the possibility of standing on the second step at the end of this becoming a more realistic and possible reality. For now though, he won’t allow himself to get distracted by dreaming of what he could do, he needs to focus on pushing.

Lewis Hamilton right in on Alonso as well - half a chance of a podium for Lewis despite that blowout which put him back in last place! 

Shit. Being too focused on the gap between him and Webber meant he’d lost all consideration about how closely the Mercedes of Lewis had been trailing on his heels, eager to snatch up a podium finish.

NICO ROSBERG WINS THE BRITISH GRAND PRIX! He crosses the line 0.7 seconds clear of Mark Webber, who has almost pulled off an amazing victory despite falling back to 15th after a catastrophic start to his race! 

First place is no longer an achievable spot, but just as Senna’s mantra went, ‘If you no longer go for a gap that exists, you are no longer a racing driver’, he won’t allow himself to slow down just because he won’t be top step when it’s time to receive a trophy. Second or third is always better than fourth. 

Webber second, Alonso third with Hamilton fourth despite the tyre blow-out which robbed him of first place early on. 

It’s done now at least. He may not be first, or even second, but he’s not in Hamilton’s spot either- a blown out wheel and the lost opportunity of a race win. He’s doing better than most, and he’s willing to take that.

He stands on the third step of the podium, Mark proudly standing tall to his left, waving his sweat soaked hat high above his head. He looks proud, a grin stretched across his mouth in a tired relief. He may have not gotten first place, but he sure as hell has enough pride in his expression to seem as if he did. 

Rosberg is equally as happy, an unbeatable look of elation staining his face. He pumps his hands up, showing off his golden trophy. One by one, they receive their bottles of champagne, ready to really start the celebration. 

The Spaniard and Australian coat each other in sticky bubbles, while the Finn focuses his onto the crowd in front of them, raining down on the Mercedes team in particular. Pressing the spout to his lips, Fernando takes a long mouthful- the sharp champagne filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. 

He makes eye contact with Mark as he does so, ‘We’ll be doing this every weekend if you make the move,’ . He reckons Mark picks up on that, but there’s an uneasy look in his eyes, withholding something from him.

When the fizz dissolves and all three men are left in sopping race suits, reeking of alcohol- it’s time for interviews. A man, wielding a microphone goes straight to Nico, interviewing him about ‘how his race had gone’, and if he thought he’d ‘win the race from the get go ,’. 

While the attention isn’t on them, rather solely focused on the blond man, Mark takes his opportunity to slip into place beside the Ferrari driver, dropping his voice a few octaves and tilting his head, putting them at near the same height. “I’m not going to Ferrari, Fernando,”

No. 

No. 

He’s not doing this right now. 

If this is true, he doesn’t get to say this in front of a crowd of thousands of fans.  

That’s not fucking fair. 

“Mark,” He hisses, drawing his eyes away from the crowd to look up for the slight difference they have between their height right now. His jaw goes lax, his lips parting in shock. 

“Nando,” He places his hand on the small of his back, his fingers nudging into where the suit awkwardly clings to his narrow waist. “I’m sorry,”

“Not now,” He looks away, his attention drawing to where Nico’s interview is drawing to a close, Mark will be the next to be talked to. “ Dios - why?” His throat is gluey, his accent strengthening despite how he often tried to dull it down to be easier understood.

“I couldn’t,” Mark ducks his head, shame flooding his face. Fernando doesn’t care, Webber doesn’t get to feel poorly about his decision. He’s the one who disobeyed his promise and broke trust. He’s to take responsibility for that.

2013- Germany, July

Tensions are still high between the two by the time the next grand prix approaches. Alonso avoids each attempt that Webber makes to reconcile their relationship- try to make some half arsed apology in which he’ll not even understand why Fernando is hurting like he is. He doesn’t understand how much the promise of teammates means to the Spaniard- he likely never would. 

2013- Italy, September

“By silverstone i'd concluded, it would be my last year with red bull and that'll be it. Fernando did all he could to change my mind but it was too late” The Spaniard feels like driving a screwdriver into his head upon hearing that over the radio, maybe step onto incoming traffic. There’s a strong urge to gouge his eyes out and then cut his ears off bubbling deep throughout his whole body. The want to go out in the most painful, gory ways.

Is it seemingly an intensely dramatised reaction to a seemingly harmless statement the senior pilot made? Not in the slightest. It’s not fucking fair, Mark doesn’t get to do this to him. The Australian had promised for years that they’d be teammates eventually- even if it took their whole careers to do so. 

Bringing him into the interview was beyond unfair. Clearly it had all just a joke to him, some easy fucking lie he could reassure Fernando with to get him to stop bothering him. 

It’s the first that the Ferrari driver is hearing of the official news, the final verdict that had been reached. Sure, Mark had told him back on the podium in Silverstone- but hearing it over national news, it just feels far more true and official. 

Up until this point, he’s allowed himself to view the possibility of the situation through rose-tinted glasses, a warm and hopeful feeling deep in his chest- the belief that he would one day be teammates with the man he considered his closest friend. Maybe Mark would change his mind, maybe he would decide at the last moment that Red Bull wasn’t for him.

Now that’s all being betrayed so he can stay driving an energy drink on wheels alongside some bratty german kid who barely looks old enough to be driving on the freeway.

Fuck you Sebastian Vettel.

Fuck you Red Bull.

Fuck you Mark Alan Webber. 

2013- Singapore, September

He ignores each call the Australian tempts him with, patiently outwaiting the five rings until he can return to the aching silence of his hotel room. It’s not fun, nor is it any what pleasant. Deep down, he wants to pick up, hear even just the careful and calculated breaths of the older man- give him a chance to explain.

But what if he doesn't like what he heard? What if Mark gave him all the reasons why they wouldn’t work as teammates and it was all the things that Fernando had spent so many years ignoring because he so desperately wanted it to be perfect- he was willing to make any sacrifices just to be alongside Mark in matching bright red race suits. 

So for now, he’ll just rot under the thin bleach-white sheets of his hotel bed, wishing for a different outcome to the ending he always secretly expected. 

He doesn’t have to see Mark on the podium this time. He’s on the second step this time, Raikonnen in third and the Australian’s younger teammate Sebastian took an easy lead the whole time- winning by almost a landslide. Fernando refuses eye contact with the German, the man who gets to take the place of being the teammate of Mark for another year, until he will retire.

It settles in his mind for the first time that the next time he’s in this exact spot, racing in Singapore, he will no longer be racing under the humid heat and bright city lights alongside his Australian friend. This was the final time the pair would ever race on the Marina Bay Track together.  

That’s a fate he’d rather not talk about.

2013- Brazil, November

In the five races after Singapore and before Brazil, Mark secures an impressive three final podiums for his last year in the sport. Alonso doesn’t. They don’t stand on the podium together past the british grand prix, and despite how betrayed he feels- it doesn’t mean that he wants Silverstone to be the last time they held those trophies above their heads together. 

His wish is finally granted in the concluding race of the season, Mark’s career too. With Sebastian winning the race, his teammate stands on the step below him, and Fernando on the final step. It’s just like Silverstone all over again. 

It’s the last dance for the two of them, a final chance for them to celebrate together- even when separated by Sebastian, and separated by rival teams.

It’s beyond impressive in his last races in formula 1 that he’d secured four podiums, but that was just Mark’s fashion. To go out with a bang.

2014- Abu Dhabi, November

After a whole year of stewing in slight hatred and missing of the aussie at ferrari- having Kimi Räikkönen as a teammate, who is significantly quieter and more serious then he was expecting out of his 2014 teammate- Fernando finally makes the difficult decision to change teams to McLaren.

He’ll race alongside Jenson Button, who he reckons will be a breath of fresh air- closer to Mark then the teammate he’s had this year. It had been an abysmal year for him too, only 2 podiums- China and Hungary. So he’s looking onto next year in a positive light, a new chapter of improvement for himself. 

2015/2016

Jenson is only his teammate for a single year of the 2015 season. For 2016, he has Stoffel Vandoorne alongside him at McLaren and they don’t get on too well. Fernando is clearly the favoured driver- Stoffel often being instructed to let the Spaniard past him. Regardless, they remain racing for the same team for the next three years. They’re a painful few years without a single podium, still chasing that high from Brazil- stood next to Mark. 

He’d had two since then, but they’d felt empty and meaningless to him, wishing he’d been dressed in red with Mark instead of Kimi. Being in orange doesn’t feel any better than that- especially without a single trophy to prove that maybe Ferrari also hadn’t been good for him.

2018, August

Fernando announces his retirement on twitter on august 14th. He posts a minute long video, thanking the sport in general and all his adoring fans over the years of his career. He does a bit near the end that showcases him in all his different team merchandise- Minardi, Renault, his first year long McLaren stint, again to Renault, Ferrari, and finally McLaren once again.

 It’s a moment that he thought he would be able to avoid for a few more years. He had faith he would win a third championship- hopefully at Ferrari too. But he looks around at the grid that surrounds him, all the new and fresh talent, and he feels a lack of belonging.

There’s supposedly going to be an eighteen year old replacing him at McLaren when he leaves, there’s already a twenty one year old in Max Verstappen, and a twenty year old Lance Stroll. He just feels old. 

Hamilton’s still there, so is Vettel, and a few other drivers from his prime time- but he can’t escape the feeling that his time has come, it’s time for new ventures. 

Maybe he’ll continue to race under different circumstances, maybe he’ll focus more time and energy into managing- maybe he’ll just leave racing to the past, and go on with the rest of his life without it.

2020, February

Mark and him speak for the first time in a while on the phone. Mark sounds well, his voice rougher with age if anything. They’d last spoken when Fernando had announced his retirement, and the Australian had showered him in congratulations and best wishes for his further ventures. They were now on the same boat, even if the events had occurred almost eight years apart.

Mark tells him that he’s just begun managing the FIA Formula 3 champion, a seventeen year old Australian called Oscar. According to the older Australian, Oscar was possibly the biggest Alonso fan growing up- had one of his karts and a race suit. It makes him smile that he’s inspired someone who was born after his career even began. 

Beyond that short call, the amount of times they talk on the phone increases as the pandemic regulations tighten, forcing everyone into home isolation. Hearing all about all these fantastic achievements Oscar is making, Fernando feels something he had lost back in 2018- the want and desire to race.

So after many conversations, emails, phone calls, meetings- Fernando Alonso officially becomes an Alpine Driver for 2021.

[twinuchiha]

Okay. Those who know me know that I’m not the type of person that likes to make serious posts. But this situation has been on my radar since Wednesday, and has turned into borderline harassment.

This is a warning to be wary of the Naruto anon rpers.

This is not a call to attack anyone. This is not a call to harass anyone. This is a warning. Trigger Warning: Harrasment, Death threats, SA threats, Stalking and Abuse will be mentioned under the cut. If you can not handle these topics, feel free to not click read more. However, it would be appreciated if you relogged this post to spread awareness.

Some people may already be aware that I used to interact with this group, and be on friendly terms with Sasukeanon, but not anymore. I have blocked most of them, and they may have already blocked me as well by now. Honestly? I'm just disappointed. So around January 30th, someone sent a hate post to Hidan anon mentioning a few of their fellow blogs. Understandable, they mentioned Kisame anon to ask them what was going on, as they have also recently been getting hate.

They're trying to figure out who this possibly could be, but then out of nowhere, Orochimaru's anon says this:

To which??? Okay, some people just type similar to each other? I've seen it happen. Anyway, when Kisame tries to explain that they've had problems with people in the past and listing off who it could have been, Sasuke comes in with this:

How they came to this conclusion, I don't know. But they then suddenly start going on a tirade and start making threats.

This took me off guard. I knew Sasuke could be harsh in some of their posts, which made me uncomfortable, but this was the first time I've seen them jump to death threats. This is no way to talk to someone. Especially when you have no evidence against. And don't have any evidence, because all you have done is claim things, never show proof, and then harass Kisame further (along with your friends) when they were trying to prove their innocence to everyone. Even in posts that had nothing to do with any of you!

(Note that Sasuke's mod was handling Hidan's blog at the time of this)

You keep saying that Kisame has been sending death threats and SA threats yet show no proof to back up your claims when someone confronts you on it. Instead, insult them. And type in all caps to try and be intimidating.

These were in response to cherrypiesakurokun's posts on the matter, as like me they have also been talking to Kisame about what has been happening. The top one was after the Naruto anon blog added them in a callout and basically implied they were a death threats/SA threat defender. All because what? They tried to be supportive and wanted everyone to make up? I agree that they probably shouldn't have jumped in, but that's not fair.

The blog you claim that is Kisame's main isn't even her main. This is her main. She linked me her Reddit account to prove this.

Do these blogs look remotely the same??? The threats you claim were sent by Kisame to herself hold critical information that held her real name and where she lives. Why would someone do to themselves, risk doxing themselves? It doesn't make any sense. She's sent me proof of that as well, but I will not be showing them here because that is private information. Kisame told me that she gave you her discord, you could have asked her what was going on. But you never did. You just jumped to conclusions.

When I asked Kisame about the threats that were being, her conclusion was that it was from her stalker ex boyfriend, who's she's been gathering evidence of for doing the same behaviour. She's informed me that she's currently trying to get a restraining order. I've been given permission to show these screenshots.

Congratulations on harassing a victim of stalking and abuse. But if that wasn't vile enough, the night Kisame's mother was taken to the hospital, and they explained they'd be offline because of it, Sasuke, still using Hidan's blog, said this:

This was vile. Fucking vile, and was the straw that broke the camels back for me. I blocked as many of the blogs I could. Like I said, I'm disappointed. Sad, even. Sasuke was one of the first blogs who'd interacted with me, and i thought they were nice. It seemed like I was wrong though. As I mentioned before, this isn't an attack. This is simply to warn others about the kind of people they will be interacting with should they come across the anon group.

[adventures-in-a-world-of-fiction]

I didn't watch the James Somerton apology video because I didn't want to give him the views, but I did watch a react video that showed basically all of it. The whole thing felt so disingenuous.

He admitted to plagiarising (I think at this point he basically had to) but the way he framed it really downplayed what he did. If you hadn't seen the evidence against him and just saw this video, it would be very easy to come away with the impression that it was a few, minor mistakes.

He talked about crediting people in the opening of his videos, implying that he credited everyone, just not at the exact point he was using their words. We know this isn't true.

He also talked about how he would copy bits into his script, intending to reword them later, but then would forget because of his "memory issues". This is a problem for so many reasons. Firstly, it implies that he thinks it's fine if he paraphrases enough that you can't find the original by putting the words into Google, even though he's still taking other people's ideas without credit. So even if this were completely true, it would still be plagiarism. Secondly, even if his memory issues are real, there would be so many ways to make sure these "mistakes" didn't happen. He could have highlighted text in a different colour to show it needs reworking. He could have written the source in brackets in the script next to the section so he remembers where it came from. This is the sort of thing that you could do once or twice by accident, but after the first few accusations of plagiarism, you would learn a way to make sure the mistake didn't happen again. You wouldn't keep doing it for years. So even if he isn't making up the memory thing completely, it wouldn't be an excuse after all this time.

He talked about using other people's work because he didn't want to just be one cis, white guy talking about important topics and how he wanted to bring other people's voices and stories into the discussion. And this is such an infuriating excuse, because he was talking over those other voices and silencing them by stealing their words and passing them off as his own.

Half of his video was him going, "This is no excuse but..." and then spinning a sob story to get the audience's sympathy.

Then there are all the things he didn't talk about. He didn't acknowledge the video pointing out the many, many ways he made stuff up in his videos or apologise for the blatant lies. There was a tiny hint about "factual errors" that was quickly glossed over.

He didn't talk about the fact that when he got accused of plagiarism the previous times, he would lie about being harassed and set his followers out to bully the people who had called him out. If you didn't know better, you could come away from this video believing that this was the first time anyone had ever caught him plagiarising.

And I think that's the point. This wasn't a video aimed at the people he's hurt or the internet in general. This was a video aimed at his fans who haven't actually watched the videos laying out the evidence against him. He downplays what he did, spins out a sob story, and then makes an apology and promises to do better in the future. I can easily imagine his fans watching this and thinking that the uproar has been overblown because poor James has got memory problems and he did put people's names in the video credits and people on the internet are being so mean to him. I think there are people who will watch this video and believe his apology because they're only James' side.

If James was remotely genuine, he wouldn't have described what happened the way he did, but the people who know the truth aren't the target audience. The target audience are the people who already like him, so he can get some control of the narrative back and stop those people from listening to everyone else.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 ║ Chapter 10 - Don't Run. You Will Only Die Tired.

| FERAL WOMAN | series masterlist | main masterlist | | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 5k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: heavy topics relating to captivity, SA, sewer slide, difficulties with intimacy following SA, PTSD, etc. The whole thing is a doozy.

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: You've waited so long for good things, and now it's hard to be patient when they're just within reach. Against your better judgment, you push yourself. Joel pushes back.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

Please read with caution if you have difficulties with works concerning: SA, physical violence, torture, captivity, trauma, and similar topics as they are discussed throughout the series. All highly sensitive portions WILL BE MARKED with my sensitive material banner if you wish to skip the more challenging portions. The sensitive material banner looks like this:

Joel liked you. You didn’t need to prove anything to him. You didn’t need to be anything in particular for him to want to spend time with you. It was something you had to continuously remind yourself of. And yet, the voice in your mind kept quietly nagging: why does he want to take things slow?

You’d done a very bad job of doing anything remotely close to “taking things slow,” and you felt guilty every so often when you realized just how much of that you were putting on Joel to oversee and manage. After years of torment, it was hard for your logical side to convince your emotional side to not just dive headfirst into all of these good feelings. It’s been so long since you’d felt happiness like this, and to deny yourself of it felt like a betrayal in many ways. What was the harm in going a little faster? What was the risk of doing more, and sooner?

Joel felt strongly about it, however, and you did your best to respect that. You wanted him with a fervor so unfamiliar to you that you sometimes had to force yourself to not push those boundaries too far and too hard. There was always the risk of you getting triggered or overwhelmed, but the longer you had to wait for those good feelings and sensations, the more it seemed like a calculated risk worth taking.

You aren’t sure when the shift happened, but not being physically or sexually connected to Joel made you feel antsy. When you cuddled on the couch or exchanged intimate kisses, you felt confident and sure of yourself and your relationship. When you were doing literally anything else, you were flooded with uncertainty and self-doubt. You could be in the same room together, but if you weren’t touching, that chasm of ambiguity and anxiety began to swallow you whole.

Joel had picked up on the change because of course he had. At first you didn’t want to admit to him how desperate and needy you were for something that he time and again executed refrain and patience for. It left you feeling like all the desire and want was one-sided. Eventually you admitted the truth to him. He took it in stride as he always did with your ricochet of doubt and worry and elation. He’d carefully - thoughtfully - suggested the two of you think of non-sexual ways to build intimacy and trust. When he asked if you had anything in mind, you already had an answer.

The heat of the water fogged up the mirrors in Joel’s bathroom. It had been running for a few minutes now, and the tub was nearly filled. You hadn’t had a bath in months. You hadn’t had an actual bath in a tub in … you can’t even remember when. The flower marking on your hip had meant you needed to avoid submerging the open scarring until it fully healed, but you wouldn’t have been sinking into a warm pool of water anyway. It carried too much weight to be indulged on a whim.

“You really aren’t going to get in with me?” you ask quietly as you watch the line of water rise.

“I jus’ think it’s, uh, safer that way.” Joel scratches the back of his neck. “Ya know, jus’ to… keep things goin’ in the right direction.”

You sigh and shoot him a watery smile. “Alright. I understand.”

He curls his hand around yours and gives a small squeeze. “Jus’ because it ain’t today doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen.”

You wrap your arms around one of his and hug tight. “I know,” you say, trying your best to not sound disappointed. The commiserating grin Joel gives you let’s you know you probably aren’t doing a great job at hiding it. Joel leans over and turns off the water. He makes a low grunt as he straightens back up again.

“I think that’ll do it. Do you want me to….?” he trails off and glances in the direction of the door. 

“No, stay. Please. And, do you think– I mean, if you want to— that you could undress me?” you ask.

Joel swallows thickly and makes a noise of uncertainty.

“I—” you immediately falter. “I want. For when it happens – for when that happens – that it’s… something I asked to happen.”

You aren’t sure if your explanation will suffice to convey all the scope of what you’re asking. Joel’s eyes narrow as his head tilts, but there’s still an element of doubt. So, you try again.

“I want for you to.. undress me because–it’s what I— for me to…. I want it to think of it as a good thing, and not s-something that means.. something that means something bad is about to happen to me,” you manage to get out.

Joel’s eyes close briefly. He takes a deep breath. It seems he did understand what you meant without further explanation, but that maybe he was wishing he was wrong in his interpretation.

“Of course. I– Of course we can do that, honey. Let me– how d’ya wanna go about it?”

“M-Maybe we do it together? The first time?” you suggest.

He nods slowly, watching your face closely. You reach out to his hands and guide them to your t-shirt. You drag them slowly upward before raising your hands above your head and allow Joel to pull your shirt off. He drops it to the floor and carefully awaits your next instruction. You ask if he can kiss you “in a small way,” and he thankfully understands. After a few gentle, slow presses of your lips together, you feel grounded enough again to continue. Soon enough, you’re standing bare before him and feel completely safe and sane. You even surprise yourself at the lack of nerves.

Even if there had been any to begin with, they would’ve quickly melted away under Joel’s attention and care as he eases you into the water and pours a cupful of it along your scalp a few times. You don’t bother not ogling him as he removes his long sleeved shirt so the sleeves don’t get drenched. You catch his almost shy grin.

“Like what ya see?” he teases.

“I’m full on naked, okay? I think it’s only fair I get to stare at you a little bit,” you point out.

He huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Remember that ain’t what this is supposed’ta be.”

You both pull back on your giddy grins. It was so hard to ignore the rushing feelings of excited nerves and anticipation for what this new romantic and sexual aspect of your relationship would bring. But he was right. This was supposed to be about intimacy outside of those things. You’re sure if you thought about it too much for too long that you’d get nervous. Asking restraint from a man. Asking for respect of your body and your boundaries. Laying open and bare for the taking, but asking and trusting you won’t be. Not without your permission. Asking – daring to ask – to be touched and cared for in a way that does nothing for the other person. A test of morals and trust.

You sit in a quiet silence for the most part, a comfortable bubble with just you and Joel. He gently washes your body, pausing every now and then as he waits for your verbal consent for his hands to be on your body, your most intimate parts. Somehow it doesn’t feel sexual. You were sure when he got to your breasts or private areas, you’d feel aroused. Instead it was much the same as any other part.  You just felt safe and warm and content.

The only shift comes when he begins washing your hair. He feels you tense for a split second and stops. “I don’t hafta do your hair if you’re not—”

“No. I- I want you to wash my hair. More than anything else, actually. It’s–It’s the reason I even suggested you bathing me as part of that... thing you said. Trying for the nonsexual stuff.”

“Okay. It’s just, you sorta flinched when I–”

“Mae used to wash my hair,” you interrupt hastily. “We would do it for each other.”

Joel is quiet for a moment. Then, “Your friend, right? The one you, uh, lost?”

You nod somberly. “I miss it. I miss doing that for each other. I miss her.”

“Somethin’ y’all did together a lot?” he asks delicately.

Your face warms with a smile. “Yeah. It was some of the only times we were alone, so we could actually talk about things. Help each other. Comfort each other.”

Joel makes a contemplative noise. He pauses again. You can feel his hesitation, nervous to say the wrong thing. Nervous to take one of your few good memories from the past couple of years and ruin it. You already had so little from your time in captivity. He didn’t want to take the crumbs that were left.

“That sounds nice. I’m glad y’all had each other.”

“It was nice,” you agree softly. “We would wash our own bodies most of the time. Sometimes after… certain things, when you can’t hardly stand to be in your body, let alone touch it and bathe it… we’d help each other those times. But, mostly it was washing each other’s hair. Just felt nice for there to be somebody touching you that wasn’t meant to hurt you. To own you.”

You take a deep breath and lean into Joel’s gentle massaging motions. “Feels good, baby,” you whisper.

“Wanna make you feel good. Wanna make you feel safe,” he responds with equal tenderness.

“You do.” You close your eyes and smile when you feel Joel’s gentle kiss on your temple.

“You can, uh.. you can talk about her, if you want. Mae. I’d like to hear about her, if you’re able.” He sounds so docile and soft. He feels like the warm bath water soaking into your skin. He feels like the blanket of soothing heat that surrounds you.

You find the words spilling out without any effort. There’s no gruesome gnarl or knot of pain in your chest. You feel light. It feels good to talk about her. To keep her memory alive. To give her the sort of eulogy and tribute she deserves. She deserved so much more. Joel is a good audience – asking questions at all the right spots, chuckling quietly when you share funny tidbits, running comforting strokes up and down your back when you recall harder times.

You find yourself able to work all the way up to her final day. “They were going to take her. He-Sam. Sam was annoyed with her over something. I don’t know what. Said he didn’t want her sleeping in the room with us that night. Said she was gonna have to sleep naked out there with the rest of the crew.”

You swallow hard and flick aimlessly at the bathwater. Joel is still as a statue beside you with only the measured pull and release of air through his nose letting you know he was still there.

“She knew what that meant. She was already–she wasn’t better yet from a few days before… we were still trying to look after some of her injuries…..,” you meander through the memory. “I just think she knew she might not survive the night anyway.”

Your eyes sting with tears. You sniff some of them back. “She looked at me, and I knew. Not exactly, but I knew she was going to make a break for it right then and there. I just froze. It’s like I was stuck. I just stood there while she took her chance and tackled one of the guys.”

“She got him to the ground?” Joel sounds surprised.

“Managed to get him to the ground and wrestle his gun from him, actually,” you answer in a flat tone.

“She got away?” His suspended disbelief at the implication was palpable.

You turn to look at him in confusion, your brows scrunching together. “No, of course not. She shot herself.”

It’s said as though any other outcome was preposterous. What on earth would she have done in that situation? Other than take her own life, put an end to all of it? The idea that Mae would’ve ever managed to escape and flee without being apprehended and, at best, beaten to death, was downright farcical. Joel froze, holding your gaze. “Shit,” he mumbles. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t think that’s what you meant.” “Yeah,” you whisper quietly. The water sloshes around you abruptly as Joel clings to you, pulling you into his arms with fervor. You’re caught off guard, but you quickly return the hug, wrapping your arms around his middle as he gently rocks  you back and forth in the water.

Each day carried on, and you found yourself slipping into the comfort of simple bonding with Joel. Grocery store trips. Trying out a recipe together. Walking hand in hand to and from the patrol station. You’d even managed to convince him to play something for you on the guitar and not just when you were already half asleep. It was a familiarity that evolved into an often uncomplicated shared intimacy.

You didn’t jump every time he surprised you with a hand on your back from behind. He could rub your leg as you sat next to each other on the couch, and it didn’t make you feel antsy. He leaned into your hand as it scratched along his scalp, his head lolling in your lap. He’d started to loosen up a bit and not hold back as much. Hugging you tighter. Holding you closer. Kissing you harder.

The feel of his lips against your own as you made out on the couch was absolutely divine. It made you feel giddy and light just to go in between lazy kisses and feverish making out, off and on for however long Ellie was out of the house with some friends. You giggle at the slip of his tongue curling between your bottom teeth and lip. 

“God you taste good,” he mutters.

“Not too much jerky flavor?” you titter against his mouth. You can feel him smile against yours.

“Mmmm, just the right amount. Really does it for me, ya know?” he teases. “Always dreamed of findin’ me a woman with a passion for dehydrated and cured meats.”

You snort a laugh at his harmless taunting and pull him back onto you. You roll your hips into his and swallow his groan. You wrap your legs around his back and cross your ankles at his tailbone, pulling him closer to you. He follows your lead and presses himself into you and meets your mouth in a passionate kiss. You moan and whimper at the unchecked pace, at the uninhibited way he licks and nips into your mouth.

His smell is intoxicating, and you quickly find yourself lost in him. The feel of him is all around you, and what began as a welcomed overwhelming sensation has begun shifting into something unnerving and overbearing. You ignore it, try to push past it, but your chest starts to feel tight. Joel is broad and strong above you, and he’s lost in the kiss you’re still eagerly returning. You make a trembling whimper he mistakes for encouragement to continue. He’s pressing into you, touching you, tasting you. It’s now suffocating and upsetting.

“J-Joel,” you shake out. He groans eagerly in response. Your heart is beating a million miles an hour. You need to stop. He needs to stop. You need for him to stop. Now.

“Joel.” It comes out clipped and tense, not at all the calm, casual remark you had planned. As expected, Joel immediately freezes and pulls up, giving himself enough space to wildly search your features for an answer of what he had changed, what had he done to make you feel uncomfortable. “No, no. It’s okay. I just need, I just think I need a minute, and I’ll be okay. Okay? J-Just a minute,” you insist with a shaky voice. Your lip trembles. The back of your eyes start to pinch. Joel doesn’t look convinced. You bring your hands to either side of his face, a soft gesture to prove your interlude is just that, nothing more. Anything but the truth. You can’t tell him the truth. You don’t know why your head is suddenly spinning. If he knows something is wrong, he might not let go again like this. It felt so good until it hadn’t. You couldn’t lose it. You couldn’t give Joel a reminder of how broken you were.

“Darlin’,” he starts, and the reluctance in his voice kills you. You rest his forehead against yours and close your eyes. You will just have to work through this at the same time that you are convincing him to not give this moment up. You try your best with attending to the whirlwind of anxiety gripping your gut and the deep-seated need for him to cover every square inch of your body in kisses. “No no no. It’s okay. It’s okay. I just-I just need a minute,” you beg. “That’s all. That’s it. Just give me a minute, Joel.” Your heavy breathing and antsy tone only serve to undermine your appeals. 

Your eyes flutter open from being screwed shut in concentration when you feel Joel shift above you.  He shakes his head and positions himself to sit beside you with a modest berth between you. You start to feel the anger bubble up inside your gut, threatening to rise up your throat and come out as acidic remarks.

“All I need– I just—” your lips tingle and burn. “Why can’t you just be patient with me?” you snap.

You aren’t sure why you’re acting so indignant. It wasn’t as if you deserved Joel’s patience, his understanding, his compassion. And yet here you were, demanding he return what wasn’t even rightfully yours.

“You’re forcin’ yourself to be okay with it, and I just can’t do that.” His tone is firm but tender.

“I’m not!” you argue, flinging yourself over him to straddle his lap as if to emphasize your point.

Your lips crash into his, but they weren’t met with the previous fervor. Joel yet again pulls away, and you grasp at the back of his head to pull him back. When you try to kiss him again, his arms find their way to you, gently restraining you enough to put space between you.

“Why won’t you just give me a minute?!” you bark, enraged at him shutting the entire moment down. Rejecting you. Rejecting your body, your advances - one of the few things you had of value to offer him. He starts to reposition you further away, but you beat him to the punch. You push off him and off the couch, stomping towards the door. Joel was behind you before you could cross the threshold, his arm blocking your passage as his hand gripped the doorjamb. Joel had just rejected you, and now he was refusing to let you wallow in your mortification privately. 

“Sweetheart, I’m givin’ you a minute by givin’ you some space,” he explains calmly. 

“No you’re not! You’re turning me down. Like-Like you don’t even want me. You could just give me a minute to think for a second.” You march angrily towards the wall, not sure where you were headed exactly, but unable to bear Joel being nearby. Your shame flares in his proximity. Again, he follows behind you, loudly enough that you instinctively know it is for your benefit. For some reason this only makes you angrier. You whip around, your back against the wall, to glare at the man who had rejected your advances and appeal to patience. “If you had just given me a SECOND I would have been fine!” You feel the angry tears brimming.

He holds his hands out to the side, open and welcoming but not demanding. Why won’t he just snatch you up and bury his tongue in your mouth? “I could have worked through it, Joel. I wanted to, but you wouldn’t let me! If you had just let me, if you had just given me a second I could’ve-” you croak. 

Your hands ball into tight fists, tightening even more as Joel’s face morphs into a sort of pitying expression.  “I could’ve done it. I could have been normal! It could have been normal. I could have done it if you had just let me. I could have worked through it and been fine and had a normal kiss with you I could’ve done it if you had just let me I could’ve been normal for you for once I could’ve been a normal-”

Your incoherent babbling dissolves into quiet sobs. You feel Joel’s familiar warm embrace surround you, grounding you. He shushes and soothes and caresses, all while you cry into his shoulder in defeat.

Your eyes are still red from yesterday afternoon. You splash ice cold water on your face. It doesn’t help. You’d left in a hurry once Joel let you go. You could feel he wanted to chase after you, to fix it, to comfort you, but he didn’t. He stopped himself because of you. Because you can’t handle basic physical interactions. You can’t handle being intimate with somebody, even if they’re safe and warm and soothing. None of that matters when you’re a broken person. Joel couldn’t do the normal thing of comforting you because you were nothing more than a hobbled mess of a person, fragments of humanity pieced together haphazardly. 

You’d been lying to yourself when you said you could be normal for him. You were never going to be normal for him, for anyone. He deserves more. He deserves more than somebody who can’t manage to avoid a panic attack, some several months of living in the sliver of paradise that still existed in the apocalypse. If you couldn’t be enough for him here, you’d never be enough for him anywhere.

Your shoes drag along the dirt as you make your way to his house. You’d watched for Ellie to leave. You weren’t sure how long you had. You hoped you could make it quick and painless for him. For you, though, you figured crying yourself to sleep tonight was a best case scenario.

Your knock on the door is timid. Nothing like the bouncing rap of knuckles you’d usually greet it with. The door swings open. Joel looks like he’s been waiting for you to show up. No surprise in his face whatsoever. His eyes are soft and light. It makes you want to burst into tears.

“Hey, darlin’. Come on i—”

“You deserve to be with someone who isn’t so much work,” you say flatly. 

Joel opens his mouth to argue, but you hold a hand up to stop him. “Please just listen to me, Joel.” 

He closes his mouth but looks as though he has already decided to disagree with whatever you plan on telling him. He wordlessly wraps an arm around your back and ushers you inside. You start speaking again before he has a chance to close the door. If you put this off, you’re sure to be a coward and not do what needs to be done. For Joel. You’re doing this for Joel. You aren’t going to burden him with your baggage. You have to break things off. He deserves someone normal. Someone capable of kissing him without having a meltdown.

“Please don’t take this like I want you to tell me I’m wrong and that you’re going to win me back or something. I-I’m serious, Joel. You deserve more than… more than what I can give you.” Your words get lodged in your throat, hot and sticky and heavy.

Joel rests his hands on his hips and relaxes a leg. He almost looks impatient with you. You try to hurry up and finish so you’re not wasting anymore of his time.

“I-I… It’s hard f-for me to accept, but I do accept it. I can’t make you happy, and you deserve to be happy,” you choke out. “I wish I could fix me, but I just don’t think it’s ever gonna happen.” Joel makes no move to comfort you or wipe away the tears that have started falling onto your cheekbones. Good. He’s already moving on. This is good. This is what you wanted. This is what’s best for him. He’s better without you dragging him down.

“I just know in the end it will not have been worth it. Just-Just wasting your  time - the little time we all have left in this awful world. I’m not going to let you waste it on me.” Your sniffles turn into rapid intakes of air before leveling out again. “Ya done?” he asks pointedly with a raised brow.

“I-Yes. I’m done,” you answer meekly. Now all that was left was for Joel to send you on your way.

“Good, because now it’s your turn to listen.” His eyes burn with something new. Something you’ve not seen before, certainly not directed at you. It makes your tummy flip. “All that? That’s not really for you to decide,” he says coolly. “Wh-What?” you balk. “What’s not for me to decide?” “What makes me happy. What is worth my time. How I want to spend the rest of my life.” His nostrils flare, but you know he’s not angry at you. Maybe some version of you that’s trying to run away. But not at you. You aren’t sure how you know it, but you do. “Joel,” you sigh, exasperated at his persistence. You knew there was a chance he would argue with you, but you still find yourself unprepared for the tenacity radiating from him. “No. You don’t get to decide any of that for me. If you didn’t want me - if you didn’t want us - that would be one thing. But this? This bullshit? Not your call, sweetheart.” Joel’s gaze levels with yours, and you could see in his eyes this was not a challenge you were going to win. “Joel, it’s not right for me to-”

He takes his first steps forward then. His entire palm covers your cheek. He tilts your head up. “Tell me you want to end things because you want them to end. Not because of me, not for some sort of happiness I’m supposed’ta have with you outta the picture. Tell me you want it over because you don’t want it,” he demands. “Say right now you don’t want me. That you don’t want us. Say it.” You open your mouth a few times, but the words to make Joel understand you were doing this for his benefit never materialize. “Tell me you don’t want me,” he demands again in a low voice, inching towards you so close you could feel his breath fanning on your face. “I can’t,” you admit in a shaky whisper. “Then that’s that,” he decides with finality. You blink back up at him, confused by his unwillingness to rid himself of the baggage that was you. Your eyes flit to his lips where his hot breaths plume against your skin. When you look back at him, something has changed. There is a determination there. “I’m gonna hold you real close now, and I’m gonna kiss you. You’re gonna kiss me back. And it’s gonna be like last time, but we’re really going to do it this time, you hear me?” 

His words aren’t a threat but a promise. You nod meekly, wide eyed with anticipation. True to his word, Joel sweeps you into his embrace, cupping the back of your head as he tilts it to the side. His lips brush yours in a whisper of a caress. His terse preamble is a contrast to the slow, unrushed, gentle movements against your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut at the pleasant sensation, your hands winding up to his neck and hair where you smooth and rub and grab. His tongue slips along your bottom lip, gaining purchase into your mouth in a smooth motion. The way he delicately and hungrily explores you makes your mind go hazy. You feel your body melting back into his arms against you and the subsequent pull as he takes on your weight. His hand steadies your neck while his forearm and elbow hold you against him, allowing his other hand to press firmly against your back as it glides up and down. Joel swallows the weak whimper from your lungs as you match his pace and return his affections.

He pulls from your lips with a gasp. You both catch your breath for a moment. His eyes search yours.

“We make decisions together. We’re in this together, and it ain’t right for you to go off and make these big choices for the both of us, you understand?” he asserts. There’s the edge of something pleading in his tone.

“O-Okay. I’m sorry, Joel,” you murmur softly. “I just didn’t want you to be—”

“Enough,” he interjects. “You belong here. You belong in Jackson with all the rest of us. And you’re crazy if you think I’m the only person who’s gonna let you push people away the second things get hard.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat and drop your eyes. His hand lifts your chin so you’re looking at him again.

“No runnin’. Not unless I’m right beside ya, runnin’ too,” he says sternly. “It’s us in it together.”

You nod your head slowly. “Okay. Together.”

“Together,” he agrees.

Hey friends,

I'm sorry there's been such a gap in between the last chapter and this one. This chapter in particular drudged up a lot of shit for me, and it made it really difficult to write. I'm not really sure how the chapter comes across because I've been sitting with it for so long. I've been getting a bit lost in it, so I decided to just leave it once it felt right.

Thanks for all your patience and understanding!

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s1 episode 17 thoughts

i enjoyed this episode and was deeply excited for my nightly scully and mulder time. these two factors led to me taking a lot of notes tonight, even by my standards!

the first thing i wrote was "okay i read the synopsis... are they going to get CANCELLED" (thankfully this did not happen!)

the title screen reading "present day" did not predict me watching this in 2024 but i love to prove ppl wrong!!

the trucker pulled his shotgun out and fired at a spaceship which was a bold move. we need to praise him for his courage if nothing else.

then our intrepid heroes jump to tennessee!! and mulder unpacks all his little gadgets to check for aliens... aww it's endearing to me

in the interrogation room they were talking to the trucker and this man really WAS lounging about in a whorish manner like that famous post said!!!!! i was shocked!!! no decorum, not even at an interrogation!!

okay they're talking about "gulf war syndrome". i need to look something up real quick -> good lord i thought they made that up for the show but it's real and that is horrific. wow. that will be the next research rabbit hole i dive down.

(she opens her mouth to say something) (he holds his finger up) "not-not here" argument SUCCESSFULLY POSTPONED!

some background character asked scully for a pen and she gave it to her and i KNEW it was a sneaky trick... my guess was that she was going to use her fingerprints for something but in actuality it had a tracking device in there!!!!

THEY TOOK A BUS!!! new mode of transportation unlocked for our duo!!!!!!! you can tell this is fiction because it involves the US having functional public transport!!!!

mulder takes scully to his latest collection of freaks and conspirators. he says that barney is the world's most evil agent which once again raises the question: what did barney do to deserve all this?

one of the ufo nerds says "she's hot" right in front of scully which she graciously ignores. but then she says the us government is incompetent and the guy says "she IS hot" louder this time and mulder tells him to SETTLE DOWN!!!! he said that is my FRIEND and you will be RESPECTFUL!!!

(scully gives her $20 bill to a strange man) (he rips it up) she says, in the most indignant scully voice you have ever heard, heyyyy >:(

she says those guys were the weirdest people with the most outlandish theories she had ever met and mulder responds with "you think it's remotely plausible that someone might think you're hot?"

(A STUNNED SILENCE FILLS THE ROOM. MANY WANT TO KNOW WHY HE SAID THIS AND NO ANSWERS HAVE BEEN ACHIEVED. HELLO???? WHAT WAS THE LOGIC HERE???? is he flirting. is this is twisted humor. scully, once again, GRACIOUSLY says nothing)

she's all mad at how self important those guys were being- "they probably think they're being tracked wherever they go!" (cut to tracking device in pen reveal) oh these silly geese!!!!!!!

mulder at home reveal!!! we haven't gotten much of this before. he promptly fell asleep on his couch lmao what a guy.

a deep throat return!!! he hands mulder a package from under his coat like they do in all the good spy media!!! shoutout to that weird old man!!

scully thinks it's weird that mulder is trusting some guy and says a line that will certainly haunt me forever: "mulder, you're the only one i trust" "then you're gonna have to trust me" (immediately proceeds to get betrayed by trusting that guy. lol. lmao, even)

he says they'll meet up at her place and reassures her with a shoulder grab and lean in that was entirely unnecessary but it brought me great pleasure

scully uses her sleuthing skills (eyeballs) to realize the alien photo deep throat gave them is very fake. she is a detective!!! but he is very angry that she won't go with him to chase this new lead!

(wait i wrote all of this next part down i loved it so much)

"i have never met anyone so passionate and dedicated to a belief as you. it's so intense, sometimes it's blinding. but there are others who are watching you, who know what i know, and whereas i can respect and admire your passion, they will use it against you. mulder, the truth is out there, but so are lies." <- banger monologue that really pissed off the man it was directed towards (even though she said she admires him!!!!!!)

when he realizes the photo is indeed a fake, he menacingly leans in towards scully and says "we're alone on this one. there's no one we can trust" and yeah it was scary but i was looking at scully's freckles. sorry (it WILL happen again)

mulder meets deep throat in an aquarium!!!! need to see him in an aquarium for recreational purposes. get him a little shark keychain in the gift shop.

but now he's MAD at deep throat for lying to him and denying the world the truth: that aliens exist! shh keep your voice down you might scare the sharks!!

deep throat says "a lie is most convincingly hidden between two truths" to which i wrote, "ooo good line"

deep throat knows mulder is being listened to electronically which made me think that if i knew i was being wiretapped, i would blast the most insufferable hyperpop i know over and over again. hello welcome to the 10 hour 100 gecs livestream in my living room, feds. i give you 20 minutes tops before you give up.

(cutscene to mulder ripping apart all of his furniture in his apartment) <- me when i get that Cleaning Urge at 3 am

ohhh the little finger hand signal means someone is listening to us !!! the intimacy of being able to communicate with someone with just a motion!

scully hails a cab which is so nostalgic for me, because i have never hailed a cab in my life and only see it happen in tv shows or movies. now we just call an uber which is like kinda the same thing but taxis popped off with the bright yellow design. sad i've never experienced that.

sometimes while i'm watching the show it will randomly go to like vhs level quality and it did that here while scully was buying a plane ticket lol

next thing i wrote was "there are only 15 minutes left they are NOT gonna solve this one boys"

mulder fell asleep in the car with his mouth wide open... that is my cringefail loser princess

the alien got away! (jk it was a trap... but i was momentarily happy for the alien)

scully was scared by this turn of events! "god mulder, i can't stop shaking"... oh, an episode 1 parallel?? (she still gets scared by these things!!! just not often!!! which makes it more impactful when it happens!!)

then they crashed a random party in the woods which i can only imagine is very good for your health, especially if its a ufo welcoming party

they very briefly got aliases to break into the government facility and i LOVE a good alias but it didn't really go anywhere. sad!

a guard is stalking them breaking into a place they Should Not Be and scully gives up and turns herself in, but mulder makes a break for it!!! "oh this isn't gonna end well," i wrote, "why does he keep doing this?"

but we meet DEEP THROAT at the scene!!! who reveals that post ww2 there was an ULTRA SECRET WORLD POWER conference during which they agreed to kill any aliens that landed on earth and that HE was one of the 3 people on earth to kill an alien!! which he did when one crashed in vietnam...

and that the innocence on the alien's face still haunts him, which is why he helps mulder out, to give him a chance to atone for his sins... a LOT to unpack there

mulder says he is trying to figure out which of these things he said is a lie and my money is on the super-secret conference. you think people had nukes but drew the lines at aliens being a safety threat to bring them all together? bffr.

but there is no resolution as to if mulder is mad at scully for throwing them under the bus as the episode ends! they just watch deep throat fade into the distance together which hopefully means it's water under the bridge.

overall i really liked this episode! it was fast-paced, involved a roadtrip, had the leads both fighting and comforting each other, confessions of admiration, secret hand signals, an aquarium, a peek into mulder's living space, him calling up some weird guys he knows... what more could you really want?

[michirukaioureincarnate]

Bike Ride on the Sea Side

Haruka Tenoh x Reader Oneshot - cont. in Body Pillow (smut)

Fandom: Sailor Moon Pairing: Haruka Tenoh x reader | Sailor Uranus x reader Genre(s): Fluff 𖹭𖹭𖹭𖹭𖹭 | NSFW 𖹭𖹭 | Angst 𖹭 Theme(s): secure x avoidant | confession | first kiss Warning(s): Swearing Summary: You were under the impression that Haruka enjoyed your company and liked you over the past two dates. The constant texting after you unexpected meet-cute really made you believe things could go somewhere with them. But the two-week dry spell between you two had you believing otherwise. It's a shame because you really, really liked them. Reading Stats: 5000 words | 20 min read Disclaimer: All characters are consenting adults | Aged 21+

─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────── A/n: okay the genre and theme is so ??? but GIVE ME A FUMKIN MINUTE I'm trynna make this idea work please fkjahjfskh it's been on my mind for a while now also kinda coping with the drama an avoidant ex-situationship put me in and now she's coming back wanting a shot with me again even though SHE HAS A MONOGAMOUS GF Y'ALL I- 👁️👄👁️ ─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────

⋅ ⛢ ⋅

It's not like you were sitting around waiting for Haruka to text you. You weren't one to chase anyone or anything if reasonable efforts did not yield expected results. One could say you were too logical and unromantic.

"It's about the chase, Y/N!" your best friend insisted. "How is Haruka supposed to know you like them at all?"

You narrowed your eyes at her. "You know me, okay? I'm literally a shameless and open book." A small huff followed as you glared at your phone on the coffee table. "Besides...I asked them last week if everything was okay. They brushed me off, so why bother?"

"Show it to me," she demanded as she crossed her legs on the couch. She held her hand out and gestured for the phone, and you complied. Peering over her shoulder, you watched her read.

Y/N: Hey, it's been a while since we last talked properly. There's no pressure to reply, I'm just checking in to see if you're alright. Been thinking about you. Just let me know if you need space or anything, yeah? I'm not really sure about what to think or feel right now. 8:51 PM

Haruka: Thanks for checking in :) I'm fine, just caught up with work. Text you soon. 8:53 PM

Y/N: Sure thing! 9:00 PM

"They replied fast," she says curiously.

"A week ago."

She grins at you mischievously. "And does that bother the sensible and unromantic Y/N?"

"Pfft," you scoff. "No, I just don't like false expectations. If they don't wanna text me, they should just say it."

"Yeah, well, no one's as brave as you are," she sighed. "This isn't the first time you've been potentially ghosted."

Hearing it out loud kind of stung. It always did, and it would pass in a few hours before. This time, though, it lingered.

You'd never liked anyone like this before.

Still, you couldn't just ignore the lack of open and consistent communication for the chemistry over two dinners. Even though you didn't entirely dismiss the texting, it was still platonic and surface-level compared to in-person hang outs. And now there were barely any texts to go on.

Snatching your phone back, you tossed it into the pillows on the adjacent armchair and grabbed the remote to open up Netflix on the flatscreen TV.

We don't know each other enough, you consoled yourself internally as your friend settled on a horror movie. They're just some random person you bumped into in a bar of all places. You wanted to meet your soulmate in a library.

No sooner had you thought it did another helpless musing begin to haunt you.

They're so fucking hot, though.

It wasn't just the way they looked, although those dark and brooding eyes would hold you captive with a mere glance any day. You'd been around plenty of attractive people in your life and been approach by some of them as well; but the way people looked never fazed you. Instead, it was their energy and aura that drew you in.

The way Haruka carried themselves was admirable. Was it the straight-back posture? The calculating eyes atop an easy-going smile? Or the sense of purpose that surrounded them with every step taken or every spoken word? Haruka always seemed so certain of things and never missed the opportunity to take action, and you liked that.

It would explain why it felt that they were withdrawing from you. Haruka wasn't acting like they were sure about you anymore. It sucked because, for once in your life, you were sure about someone.

In all your past relationships, you'd always entertained uncertainties and potential in hopes of it blossoming eventually. It was enough that you liked them. But this time, you really wanted to take your time and figure Haruka out regardless of attraction.

"Ugh," you muttered softly as the first jump scare snapped you out of the ruminating, and your best friend's deathly clutch upon your arm left no room for your attention to drift away.

⋅ ⛢ ⋅

You woke up to a loud knock from somewhere. The horror movie had long ended, and your best friend was draped over your lap with drool dripping onto your thigh from the corner of her mouth.

She really has no shame, you think endearingly while carefully sliding out from under her. You throw the blanket over her completely, almost about to tuck her in when another louder knock takes you by surprise.

"What the fuck," you muttered, straining your ear for to locate the source. It sounded way too close for comfort. Your 1 + 1 apartment was too small for an intruder to hide in, so the only logical source was the windows.

You didn't want to go near them. Even though you were on the third floor, you didn't underestimate a stalker's ability to scale the wall for something they'd want bad enough.

The sight of a small rock knocking off your window-pane confirmed your suspicions, and you grabbed your phone to call the police only to notice that it was dead.

With no choice but to face the situation head on, you mustered the courage to confront whoever was out there. You were mentally prepared to scream bloody murder with no regard for your neighbors if it meant driving away the culprit.

Marching over to the window, you looked down into the front yard of the apartment to find a hooded figure looking up.

Right. At. You.

You threw the window open, fully prepared to screech until a lock of fair hair caught the glint of the moonlight. Your heart skipped a beat, and you watched as the figure pushed the hood off their head.

A pair of warm eyes peered at you, and a nervous lopsided smile accompanied it. You hated the way your heart was practically melting at the sight.

"Hey," Haruka said gently, and the wind carried their tomboyishly deep voice up to you. "Been thinkin' about you."

"Haruka, what the fuck?!"

They grinned up at you in amusement. "You don't sound very happy to see me, sweetheart."

"It's nearly–" you looked around for the clock in your house that you rarely consulted, "five in the morning! Who throws rocks at someone's window at this hour?!"

"I tried calling, but you wouldn't pick up," they said apologetically. "My only choice was to come and see you."

You rubbed away the ache blooming under the bridge of your nose. "Couldn't this wait?"

Deep down, you were screaming with happiness. The fact that they came over just because they couldn't get a hold of you was so nonsensical that you would've told anyone off for it. But this was Haruka, and it was hard to contain the joy tugging at the corners of your lips.

They're so stupid, you sighed internally.

"I wouldn't have come all this way if it could," they said sincerely, putting their hands in the pockets of their red and white race car jacket as a chilly breeze brushed past. Their eyes shimmered up at you, reflecting the stars in the sky. There was a tinge of vulnerability to them that caught you off guard. "Could you come down? And, um...dress warm."

"If it's only for a minute then–"

"It's not," they cut in breathlessly. "Maybe thirty minutes."

You raised a suspicious brow at them before walking away to your wardrobe, changing into a pair of warm sweats before grabbing your keys. Slipping into your shoes, you quietly left the apartment and prayed your best friend wouldn't wake up to find you gone. You knew how worried she'd get otherwise.

Quickly making your way down, you jogged out of the building and found Haruka by the street, waiting on the pavement next to a sleek motorbike.

You stopped. On your second date, they picked you up in a sports car to drive to the restaurant and revealed their love for motorcycles on the way.

"Haruka..." you said quietly. "I thought you didn't share your bike with anyone."

"I know," they replied softly before holding their hand out to you. Though you wished they'd just spill what was going on, you took their hand and let them pull you closer.

Their touch was warm against the cold air of the night, your fingers encased in their palm as their thumbs ran over your knuckles almost affectionately. Heat rose to your neck under their intense gaze that searched your face for something. They guided you onto the back of the motorbike securely before getting on turning the key.

A slow hum ran through the vehicle, and Haruka got seated properly before glancing at you over their shoulder.

"Hold on tight, Y/N."

You could feel your face getting hotter, but you reached forward and clamped your hands on their shoulders. They chuckled, pulling on their gloves and revving the engine before suddenly taking off.

The abrupt jerk of the bike had you clamping your arms around their waist instantly, and you were very aware of how firm their back felt against your soft chest.

"Asshole!" you yelled over the wind, only to catch a light chuckle before Haruka sped up. You had no choice but to curl against her spine, holding onto her tightly as you two zipped under the lamp lights of the empty highway. The cold wind was in your hair, and your fingers were freezing in the fists they'd curled into under their diaphragm.

You felt their gloved hand on yours, prying them apart to guide one of them into her jacket's pocket, and then the other one as well. It was such a sweet gesture that you forgot to pretend to be annoyed at them. Their pockets were warm, and you gave into the pleasure of how they felt against your body when you wrapped yourself around them.

Slowly, you coaxed yourself to look up from their shoulder and take in the views. You weren't sure how far away you two were from the apartment, but you could see the vast ocean that opened to the right, disappearing into the horizon where the stars were beginning to disappear.

The sunrise... you realized breathlessly as Haruka drove on the highway along the edge of the beach. Your gaze was fixed on the sky slowly turning a lighter shade of blue. The stars' twinkling faded in anticipation of the first rays of the sun.

Against your chest, Haruka's warmth kept the wind's chill out of your bones. They smelled nice, although a little unconventional; smokey and spiced, like a blend of cinnamon, roses, and the faint linger of cigarettes. You'd never gotten this close to her before, although you had hoped that they'd finally kiss you when you two eventually had a third date.

Wait... you thought. Is this a date?

No, perhaps not. To you, dates should be communicated and planned and prepared for. You would never be found wearing sweats and without a touch of make-up on a date. You found yourself regretting not dabbing on a bit of concealer and mascara. Even some lip gloss would've sufficed.

The motorbike leaned to the right as Haruka took a turn into a road, and the barricades from the edge disappeared. The beach opened up to you directly, with its sand blowing onto the asphalt and the air sticky with salt. The tops of small and calm waves glimmered as an orange spot appeared on the horizon.

The sun was here.

Haruka parked the bike, and you finally straightened up and pulled your arms off them. The embarrassment of having to cling on like that finally registered, and you quickly got off the bike and faced the sea to avoid their gaze. Haruka climbed off and kicked its stand in place, leaning their hips against the gas tank as they crossed their ankles and arms.

Silence.

You wished they'd tell you why they brought you here, but you were a sucker for sunrises and sunsets. With eyes fixed on the horizon, the two of you quietly watched the colors slowly begin to change. The sky was much lighter now, and the curve of brilliant orange ascended behind a few fluffy clouds, turning their underside pink. The waters took on a beautiful deep hue of turquoise with the passing moments, a color you loved so deeply.

"The sunrise is even more beautiful when the sea's surface is there to reflect its light," Haruka hummed softly. "The sun's brilliant on its own, but I suppose it needs to see its reflection to be reminded of it."

Their words took you by surprise.

"Why would the sun need a reminder?" you asked casually. "It's the sun. It sustains everything."

Haruka shook their head. "It's too far away to see the impact of its existence. But the ocean is vast. It stretches out endlessly and can be seen from where the sun it."

It took you a minute to realize Haruka was trying to tell you something.

"And it's important, the ocean. Without it, the sun would've fried up everything on Earth. No one to witness any nice sunrises without it to make life possible, right?"

You were beginning to feel frustrated and swallowed your nervousness to turn their way. The horizon reflected in their deep blue eyes, pouring light into them like they were lanterns. A gust of wind pushed the stray fair locks off their forehead, and they glanced at you. You weren't sure if you were imagining their ears turning pink.

"Where were you the past two weeks?" you asked as nicely as you could, but the undertone of anxiety seeped in. "I thought you didn't want to see me."

Haruka exhaled sharply and dropped their hands to their pockets.

"I was trying not to see you. Well, not too much anyway. I..." they huffed conflictedly as they closed their eyes. "You know I've got a racing season coming up, right? And I was practicing really hard for it. Everyone kept giving me shit for being reckless or risky on the track or whatever, but that's just how I've always won. It's second nature to me, and I know how to win."

You kept quiet as they caught their breath to collect their thoughts.

"I guess it'll be different this time because I made it into a bigger racing series," they continued. "It came as a surprise to everyone, but my team told me that I'll be competing with racers who are in an entirely different league. If anything, they drive much like I do."

"Haruka, could you get injured?" you demanded gently as worry flooded you.

"I mean, maybe?" they replied nervously as they blinked at the horizon. "But every sport has that risk. That's not the point. The point is that the only way to win is to not be reckless, and that's a huge change in approach to manage overnight. I hate change, and I can't do it without some kind of a constant reminder over my head."

I knew it, you thought with a skip of a heartbeat. They were trying to tell me something.

Your heart raced in you chest as they straightened up.

"I crashed last week."

"WHAT?!" you snapped as you grabbed their arm. "Haruka, what the fuck?!"

"I'm fine, promise." They turned to you and placed a comforting hand over your fingers gripping the sleeve of their jacket. "It was barely anything and it's pretty normal but...I berated myself for it. That was a first. I usually just get up and dust myself off, but I caught myself thinking...how will I see Y/N if I got hurt really badly? How would she feel if she saw me crash like that?"

You were left speechless, and your heart was pounding so hard that it could break through your ribcage and fall into Haruka's hands. They came to stand before you, casting a shadow over your body that contained your attention entirely onto them.

"I ran another lap after that crash and realized that I was different," they continued. "I don't know what exactly changed, but it was like a different part of my brain opened up. I saw different ways, better ways, to conquer the tracks that I never really considered before. More possibilities to prepare for, to keep an eye out for, and...it just felt like you were sitting behind me. I couldn't afford to crash again and injure you, but I also wanted to win."

Their hand slid under your fingers to pull it off their arm, holding your hand securely. With their eyes boring into yours, you held their gaze through the butterflies and tremors racking your body. Their grasp is warm, with soft skin interrupted by the occassional calluses from gripping bike handles.

Your mouth was dry, but you still forced yourself to speak. "That doesn't explain why you avoided me."

"I was scared," they said immediately. "My entire life, I've always been so selfish and self-centered without ever realizing it until that crash. For once, you were my first thought right after. I didn't know what to make of it."

A trembling sigh left them as they reached out for your other hand to grip tightly, pulling them close to their chest clasped within their palms. And suddenly, you felt something in the air between your bodies, as if it had become charged. Your skin tingled, every cell of your being tugged forward by an invisible force with a yearning for the warmth that rolled of Haruka's body.

"I avoided you because I've never, ever wanted to run to someone so badly before," they muttered into the air between the two of you. "I wanted you behind me on that bike because your presence was so...so–gosh, I can't find the word."

Your voice was breathy when you spoke. "Palpable..."

They nodded in relief.

The sun rose behind them, peeking over the top of their head and setting their hair alight and giving them their own halo. You'd never seen a prettier sight until now, basking in the vulnerable glimmer of their irises despite the crack in the strong walls around their heart.

"You were my reminder, Y/N," they said quietly as their cheeks flushed like the underside of the clouds above. "You kept me from getting too heated. From burning up everything around me and crashing senselessly for the sake of victory. You...are my ocean, in which I see that what I do and who I am right now is enough no matter the outcome."

Your heart was going to give out from how fast it was beating, and you quickly blinked away the mist in your eyes. It was the sweetest and most passionate thing you'd ever heard from anyone. Ever.

"Whoa, Y/N, a-are you alright?" Haruka asked worriedly as they stepped in closer to you. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing..." you exhaled sharply, releasing all the anxiety and anticipation that had built up over the week. "I just...wow, um–I don't know what to say..."

Their face fell a little as their grip on your hands loosened. "You don't have to say anything at all. I just...I hoped you felt just as intensely about me, but I know it's too soon and–"

"I was waiting for you," you interjected, embarrassed and a little angry at yourself for how pathetic you sounded. "I never wait for anyone, Haruka, but you...you had me walking around everywhere wondering if you just didn't like me anymore."

Their lips parted in surprise as they stared at you.

"I usually just move on the second I feel like someone doesn't want me," you sighed as you clutched their hands, relishing how nimble thier fingers were. "That's what it means to be a secure person, right? But I've also never liked anyone the way I've liked you."

Their awe slowly turned into a bashful lopsided grin. "Someone as sensible as you likes someone as reckless as me?"

"Next time you ignore me like that, I'd rather you be dead than ghosting me."

"Whoa, okay, um–" they snorted in amusement. "You know what? Yeah. I get it. I'd hate to be ghosted by someone like you too."

Why the fuck did I deflect like that? you scolded yourself. It sounded so needy.

"I'm not all that great, though," you muttered with eyes downcast. "I mean, I like myself plenty as I am, but you...you're a professional racer. Practically a celebrity. I've just got a little writing thing on the side that keeps me comfortable, but nothing major."

You held your breath as Haruka placed your palm over their heart. Their hand slid down the back of yours to your elbow and up to your shoulder with a soft grip, their knuckles trailing up your neck. Their touch carried with it the feathery blooms of pleasure that spread over your skin, and your heart stumbled when they gently held your chin to lift your face. Your skin buzzed with a vehement need to be closer to them, and your fingers clenched around the fabric of their shirt as you felt their heart speed up behind it.

"You've got a grounded personality, Y/N," they whispered with a tentative swipe of their thumb under your lip, and their face felt so much closer than before. "Passionate and self-reliant without needing anyone's approval for it. If anything, I'd love for you to make it big in your career, but you seem perfectly content and grateful with what you have, and I admire it."

They searched your eyes so deeply that you're left stumbling over your tongue. "I–I, um, well, I have more than enough to get by so...you know, I don't–um–"

"Y/N."

"Y–yes?"

They paused, looking down your face until you felt your lips tingle.

"I wish I could tell you how much I missed you," they murmured with a hint of something akin to need.

Desire. Maybe some restraint. It was in the way their palm cupped your jaw as their thumb stroked your cheek, eyes still on your mouth as they let out a soft, shuddering exhale.

You were barely breathing.

"I missed everything about you," they continued huskily, their eyelids growing heavy with a flutter of their lashes as their gaze darkened. "And I'll be such a goner if I give into how much I like you, because there will be so much more to miss whenever I'm away. But I need you to like me back just as much because this is scary."

Their other hand was still wrapped in yours at their sternum, and you guided it forward to your chest right over your heart. Pressing their palm over it, you shuddered at the warmth that seeped through your shirt and over your skin.

Your heart was practically bursting at the seams, and you looked at them from under your lashes defenselessly, surrendering to your undeniable feelings for them despite the need for caution.

"I think..." you started breathlessly, "I've been waiting for you for much longer than those two weeks. Don't make me wait anymore."

You gulped as you stared into their eyes, your next word sounding barely above a sigh.

"Please."

Haruka's lips fell upon yours so fast that you gasped in surprise, followed by soft moans that erupted into each other's mouths. Their deep grunt rumbled in their chest under your palms as they pulled you in close, their arm clamping around the small of your back. Encased in the warmth of their body, you mewled at the way they cradled the back of your head to kiss you languidly.

You were melting into them, feeling the heat from your bodies intertwining as you gripped onto their shoulders for dear life. Their soft chest pressed against yours with desperation, leaving no room for air between you two as they caged you against the bike. Wrapped in their strong arms, you felt small and safe, left at the mercy of Haruka's unrestrained longing that you doubted there was an escape from.

But you didn't want to anyway.

"Fuck..." they huffed as their lips slid off yours, and you were finally able to gasp for breath. Their hands rested on your waist and back, fingers digging enough to keep you from floating away. Even so, you were lightheaded and almost dizzy, taken back by how passionately Haruka had consumed you within those few seconds.

You wanted them to go on forever.

Tugging at their shoulder, you cradled the nape of their neck and pressed your lips to theirs tenderly, eliciting a soft exhale as you moved to the corner of their mouth to kiss it lightly. You found their cheek, peppering it slowly and gently with all the affection and want that blossomed within you for their existence.

Haruka groaned softly and collected you in their arms, pulling you into a hug as they buried their nose behind your ear. They pecked the sensitive spot under your lobe, making you shudder breathlessly in their firm yet gentle grip. The relief and pleasure of feeling their hand rubbing up and down your spine was indescribable, and you gave into the urge of running your fingers into their soft and wavy hair, scratching their scalp softly with your nails.

They purred, still heaving as they tried to pull themself together in the comfort of your arms.

"This is better than I imagined," they admitted against your skin.

You stilled, wondering if you heard it right. "You were thinking about this?"

"A lot..."

They sounded genuinely embarrassed, and it made you feel giddy and mischievous.

"Didn't know I had such an effect on you," you teased.

They gently pulled away from your shoulder to look down at you with warning, but there was a glint of something playful in their eyes.

"Don't say it like I don't make you feel things either," they said. "You literally got angry when I didn't reach out to you."

"You left me hanging!" you scoffed as the pent-up annoyance crept in through your fingers that dug into their biceps. "Who the hell does that for two weeks, Haruka?!"

They smirked, brows furrowing as a shadow fell over their face that made evident a sinister flame in their pupils.

"You missed me that much, huh?"

You smacked them up the back of their head reflexively, causing them to laugh in surprise. Embarrassed and meek, you felt cornered by their statement, but it was too late to escape the confrontation.

"I did..." you grumbled, looking away from their teasing stare before they leaned in to peck your jaw and down your neck. They chuckled as they did so, unaware of how each kiss triggered an intense bloom of desire in your chest. You were hyperaware of their hands on your ribs, and how the tips of their thumbs rested just under your breasts as your chest flooded with something stronger than bliss.

Arousal.

Haruka's breath brushed down your cleavage as they left a lingering kiss on your collarbone, and your grip on their arms tightened.

"H-Haruka..." you gasped, and they stopped immediately to turn their head away, still leaning into you as one of their hands fell onto the bike to hold themself up.

They let out an agonized breath of restraint, groaning quietly as the palm on your rib slid down to your hip with a gentle pat. "I should take you home, Y/N."

"Already?" you said with a slight whine, wincing at how needy you sounded for a moment. Now that they were finally in front of you after so long, you didn't want to just let them get away.

Haruka cleared their throat and straightened up, looking at you with tenderness as they tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"It's been hard to stay away from you the past two weeks," they said. "I need to take you back while I'm still in control of myself."

You gave them a quizzical look. "In control of yourself? What would you even do to me out here in the open? We're just kissing."

They raised their brows dubiously as their eyelids lowered sensuously, scanning your face with a heavy gaze.

"Don't tempt me, sweetheart," they muttered with a slight raspiness to their voice. "I don't know what I'm capable of if I'm pushed to my limit."

Your lips parted in surprise at the sudden change in their demeanor, but you didn't want to stop. A part of you wanted to challenge them, nudge them to the edge to see what they meant.

But you snapped yourself out of it and nodded, clearing your throat bashfully as you straightened yourself out.

"My best friend is at my place right now," you reasoned with yourself. "I gotta get back before she wakes up and freaks out. My phone's still back there with no battery, so she might even call the police."

Haruka nodded and reached for their gloves to pull them on as you turned your gaze back to the sea. The sun was now shining in its full glory, its light bouncing off the foam and waves of the sea, turning its surface into a rippling mirror. Fluffy white clouds floated lazily against the bright blue sky.

I'm their ocean, you thought wistfully, and they're the sun.

Two things that complemented each other in ways that kept everything on the planet perfectly balanced, and you hoped that the two of you would do the same for each other.

⋅ ⛢ ⋅

─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────── A/n: Honestly, I think Haruka has it in them to fuck you on the beach in broad daylight if it ever came to that lmfao. I was wondering if I should just write it in, but I'm not in the mood for smut atm.

What if I make another one shot focusing on the smut that comes after they drop you home? I could do a prequel one shot of the meet cute as well 🤔 [update: I did it lol]

Eh, we'll see. I'm taking it slowly since it's been a while I wrote anything for leisure. Still very rusty. Hope y'all enjoyed, though. ~ Miki | Myca ✧ ─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────

OH MY GOD MY FIRST REAL POST ON TUMBLR JSDHFKKJASDHFAJKH HAPPY PRIDE MONTH TO MEEE I'VE CELEBRATED WITH A HARUKA TENOH ONESHOT HEHE ENJOY