#first half of season one was ROUGH but I actually really liked the second half

[ghostofdiamonds]

(not so) fun fact: last fall I started watching Merlin with my mom, but now I dodge the question whenever she asks about continuing because I really can't deal with watching a show about "hiding who you are from those who wouldn't accept you if they knew the truth" with my conservative mother.

[ceesimz]

Reverie - Part 2

Autistic Reader x Barça Femení - part one here

Hey, welcome back for part two :) Thank you so much for the love, this genuinely wouldn't have been posted had it not been for the reaction to the first. Again, more things I wanna mention before reading. This part includes the aftermath of a bad meltdown, but the actual meltdown part is not written in. This was a personal decision because quite honestly there is no way to sum that experience down into a few words, it's impossible. The best example I have seen of a meltdown in the media is the character of Quinni in Heartbreak High on Netflix, if you're interested then you should watch that scene in the first season. I hope you enjoy this second part, thank you for taking the time to read it, let me know what you think :)

Your first Champion’s League game for Barcelona, a group stage game against PSG at home, didn’t quite go as planned.

From the first minute of the game, things weren’t clicking out on the pitch for you. Passes to and from you weren’t connecting, you were losing duels you definitely shouldn’t and you were missing key, game-changing shots. 

Half-time came way too quickly, and to everybody’s frustration, the score was still 0-0. As everyone sat in the changing rooms receiving treatment or refreshing themselves with energy drinks and whatnot, the result wasn’t the thing at the forefront of Ingrid's mind. It was you. She could see defeat written all over you before the match had even concluded. It didn’t bode well what this game was doing to you. Before she could do anything, she was called away for a tactical discussion. Then the break was over and everybody was being ushered back to the pitch, and her opportunity was gone.

Rough challenges, an open goal miss, and a yellow card later, you were done for. Your streak was over, you knew what was coming and there was no way to avoid it.

Nobody heard from you for ten hours, nobody saw you at any point after the game, and quite frankly nobody knew where you were. Ingrid knew though. And if her gut feeling about what had happened was correct, she was going to need back up for this one. She hadn’t dealt with a situation like this for a while now, and she felt a little out of her depth.

“Why didn’t anybody stay with her last night?” Alexia asked with a deep-set frown, rushing to your flat alongside Mapi and Ingrid. “You guys live in the same complex as her, why didn’t you check up on her?”

“I don’t know, Alexia! If I could go back and change it, I would, I swear.” Ingrid replied desperately, looking through her keys to find the one to her old flat. 

“Hey, let’s not argue. She won’t be in any fit state to deal with that, we can hash it out later.” Mapi attempted to de-escalate the situation whilst taking the keys from her girlfriend's shaking hands and quietly unlocking the door.

The thing they'd all been worried about made its presence known immediately. Ingrid’s heart broke, and she’d never regretted a decision more in her life.

By the door, your bag had been thrown haphazardly towards the shoe rack, causing the contents of both items to be strewn across the entryway. As the trio stepped past the mess and entered the main room, their concern doubled. There seemed to be two smashed glasses in the kitchen, one of the framed prints from your lounge wall had fallen down, a plant had been knocked over, yet there was no sign of you. The curtains were drawn, the lights were off, and the flat was deathly silent.

“What do we do?” Alexia questioned quietly, afraid of shattering the calm that had seemingly settled after the storm, and unsure what the best way to go about this was. She'd never really experienced anything like this before, at least not to this degree.

“Can you two clean up a bit? She will be in bed, I should go to her first I think.” Ingrid decided as her eyes were glued to your closed bedroom door.

“Of course. If either of you need anything, princesa, just shout for us.” Mapi reminded her, knowing that whatever was in store for her behind your bedroom door could be mentally taxing for her too. She nodded, and at that left the two Spaniards to clean up as she went off to do some damage control.

What greeted her when she entered your room was a sight she hadn’t seen in a long time. Not since the several hour journeys the pair of you would make throughout Germany to meet up, not since national camps, not for years. 

Ingrid found you as a disfigured lump under the duvet, the only thing visible being your hair peeking out just slightly. Again, the lights were off and the curtains were drawn, but with it being morning there was enough daylight bleeding through the soft material to let her look around the room. Just like the rest of the flat, it was in a concerning state of disarray. That wasn't at the forefront of her mind though right now though.

“Elskling?” She called out softly, though got no response. Her only option was to step closer, around to the side of the bed you lay on to try and get your attention.

You were lay on your stomach, cheek smushed against the mattress, and most unnervingly of all, your eyes were open and staring straight ahead at the wall in front. The look on your face was hauntingly empty, yet agonised all in one.

“Hey.” Ingrid whispered, kneeling down before you, yet you didn't even acknowledge she was there. 

It was that moment that the defender noticed the tear tracks, the redness to your face, and the internal agony and undertones of fear present in your blood-shot eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat, broken at the sight of you, before gently placing her hand on your back atop the sheets.

“If you can hear me, min engel, just give me a tiny nod at least. That's all I ask.” The relief that flooded her when you did exactly what she said was immense, it filled her from head to toe, so grateful you were at least present in the room now. 

“Thank you, that's all I needed.” She smiled sadly, delicately pushing a few strands of hair out of your face. “I'm going to sit here with you for as long as you need. María and Alexia are here too but they won't come in unless you say otherwise, they are just cleaning up for you. I love you, søster, I am always going to love you no matter what.”

Her words, her compassionate and caring words, broke through the trance you'd been in ever since your explosive meltdown had ended however long ago. Ingrid's unconditional love that she consistently showed towards you made itself known yet again, it being quite possibly the one sole thing that could get through to you in this precarious moment. 

The taller woman panicked the moment she saw you tearing up again, worried that she had said the wrong thing, but then your arm reached out from under the covers and grasped desperately at the hand on your back.

“It's okay, it's okay. I've got you. I'm here, you're safe, and I've got you.” Her free hand came up to wipe the tears that fell silently, the repetitive movement of her thumb across your wet cheeks a comfort you clung onto. Meanwhile, the arm of hers you'd grabbed now had both your arms wrapped around it, eyes scrunched tightly shut to keep the tears at bay as much as possible. 

It wasn't possible though, they were coming out thick and fast with no way of stopping them.

“Let it out, snuppa, you will feel better.”

And let it out you did; all the anger you directed at yourself the second the final whistle blew the day before dissipated, and a fatalistic sadness washed over you. You don't know how long you spent sobbing into the mattress, all you knew was that Ingrid was there and she wasn't leaving. She repeated reassuring words over and over until they finally registered, eventually helping you to calm down.

All that was left was an exhausted, now mindless shell of you, stuttered breaths sounding through the quiet room every so often. Ingrid's hand was tracing light circles on the palm of yours, whilst she was quietly suffering through a numb arm that you held onto still.

“Have you had anything to eat or drink since yesterday?” Ingrid asked, her assumption confirmed by the slight shake of your head. “Can I leave for a few seconds to get you something, or shall I ask one of the girls to do it?”

“Stay.” You could barely get the single word out; your throat was already dry and hurting from the exertion it had experienced in the last twelve hours or so, nevermind the mental challenge it was to speak.

“Alright, I will stay. Is it okay if one of them comes in then?” Another tiny, barely noticeable nod. “I will text them, thank you.”

No more than a few silent minutes later, there was a polite knock on the door, shortly followed by Alexia walking in with a tray in her arms. On it was a glass of water, a variety of snacks, some electrolyte tablets and even a box of tissues. She had really thought of it all.

Alexia’s eyes glanced up to where you were, before turning back to Ingrid with a questioning look in her eyes. Ingrid only shook her head, and Alexia took that as her cue to leave. It was clear, from just one momentary glance, that Ingrid still had more progress to make with you, so Alexia quietly slipped straight back out of the room.

When Ingrid turned back to you, all she saw was the sixteen year old version of you, crying in a hotel room hours from home after being dropped to the bench for an upcoming match. She saw the seventeen year old inside of you, the one that had gotten way past drunk at a party and had collapsed into a blubbering, destroyed mess on your bed after near enough carrying you home. She saw you at twenty, breaking down when she revealed she was moving to Wolfsburg, fumbling through the congratulatory messages whilst trying to come to terms with the fact your best friend was moving to a whole different country, feeling like the world was collapsing around you. You, twenty-three, leaving your last national camp, physically and mentally ruined, unable to talk, body and mind exhausted after a night of tears, frustration, and a soul crushing amount of remorse at the decision you had no choice but to make.

Every version of yourself, past and present, was right there in front of her; every version needing the support she was giving. Every version was still alive in some way, they would never die. With this disorder, things don’t come and go, they’re always there, ready to be triggered at any given moment. She had seen this one and the others a handful of times before, but you’d have them with you for the rest of your life. Your own cross to bear, something she’d never come to experience or understand, but if she can carry the load with you then she’d give up everything else in her life to do so.

“Are you ready to sit up? Ale brought in some stuff for you.” She said, her hand resting on your cheek and caressing it lightly. 

You only shrugged, not quite ready to leave your space yet. If you moved now, you had to face the world again, had to recover from the night’s meltdown and move on. It was daunting, nothing short of terrifying, and the longer you could delay the process, the better.

“The three of us have cleared our day, should you need us. We’ll go at your pace, do things how you want. I’ll be right here.” 

You found solace in Ingrid’s company; having her here meant you could relax and focus on something else other than the noise in your head. Your thoughts were having a whale of a time up there, you couldn’t land on a single one as they were spiralling around too much to pick one out. It was exactly that - just noise. But then you’d avert your eyes slightly to the left and land on a certain dark-haired woman, and everything went silent. Knowing that Alexia and Mapi were just a few metres away behind the door might have made you panic, but you trusted them both and knew that they were equally concerned about you as Ingrid was. As Alexia had told you since one of the first times you spoke to her, she wanted to be a person you felt comfortable with to go to about any problems, and you did trust her. Mapi too, though she came as an unspoken package deal with Ingrid, whether she liked that or not.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, surprising yourself as much as you did Ingrid. She frowned at you, wondering why of all things you could say after the difficult time you’d had in the last day, you chose to apologise.

“Sorry about what? You don’t need to apologise for anything, elskling.” She told you, finally moving her dead arm to hold one of your hands and squeeze it comfortingly.

“Yesterday. The match. Me.” Talking was still hard, but the guilt was monumental.

“The result wasn’t your fault. That’s just how football is sometimes, but we didn’t lose and we still have more group stage games to go. The whole team was off, it wasn’t your fault.” Ingrid reminded you, her eyes wide as she tried to get the message through to you.

“Yellow card.”

“You did get a yellow card, but we all saw the replay afterwards and you got the ball. The referee got it wrong. You also scored our only goal of the game, engel, don’t forget that.” She shuffled a little closer on her knees, placing another kiss to your forehead.

“Suppose so.” You grumbled a minute later, Ingrid smiling in amusement.

“You did so.” She commented, thumb still stroking along the skin of your cheekbone. “Did you have a bad meltdown last night?”

“Mhm.” You hummed dejectedly, overcome with shame and embarrassment at now admitting it to someone. The evidence of it was all around, you knew the trio in your house had seen it all, but there was something gut-wrenching about admitting it aloud.

“Okay. We’ll pick up the pieces and put you back together, don’t worry.” Ingrid stated resolutely, like there was no other option.

With the next thing you said, someone might have to come along and piece Ingrid back together.

“Why do they have to happen, Ingrid? I hate them so fucking much.” 

All your vulnerabilities poured out in two short sentences. Twenty-six years later and the process of a meltdown never got any less demoralising.

“I know, I know.” She moved from her place on the floor and clambered onto the bed behind you, recognising that you had entered a head space where you’d feel comfortable with it now. You confirmed that for her by rolling onto your side, allowing her to shuffle up and hug you tightly back to her chest. “Hey, think of it this way. This is your first one since moving to Spain, that’s amazing! I’m so proud. You’ve handled everything so well, I bet younger you is so proud too.”

Progress wasn’t linear, and it didn’t have the same definition in this case as it did for the majority of the population. Progress meant learning about yourself, learning what harmed you and what you couldn’t deal with, so that you could come up with solutions. There wasn’t a way to grow comfortable with certain things, like restaurants for example, it was about realising what precautions had to be taken beforehand and what support you needed afterwards. Progress was being able to ask people for help, it was having the courage to say no to plans you wouldn’t be able to cope with, it was accepting that yes, you were different, but no, it didn’t make you any less worthy than the next person.

You had made progress, but not the textbook definition of it. Autism took everything about the allistic world and re-defined it for itself.

“Thank you.” You said, voice cracking a little as you did so, a slither of a smile on your face when Ingrid kissed the back of your neck. “Love you, Ingrid.”

The defender felt as if her heart had burst upon hearing those two words. But with the swell of joy that filled her chest, quickly came the crushing sense of regret from earlier.

“I love you too. I'm sorry for not being here last night. I could have helped, or just been with you, and I didn't. I'm sorry for that.” 

Her apology tugged at your heart; you didn't blame her, not one bit. 99% of the time, there was no stopping these things, no matter what you tried or who you were with.

“It's okay. Thank you for being here now.” 

Ingrid nestled in closer at that, and the strength of her hug was the exact kind of pressure needed for the remnants of the dark cloud that had hung over you for a while to finally drift away. The pair of you stayed that way for a while, both more than happy to relish in the peace that had settled, but when there are two antsy women only a few feet behind the door, a disruption is inevitable.

“Can they come in? They’re both worried and will just want to see you're okay.” Ingrid asked quietly after one of them had knocked on the door. You nodded sheepishly, so Ingrid called them in.

“How are things going in here?” Mapi asked carefully, smiling at her girlfriend who gave her a reassuring nod.

“Good. We’re doing okay now.” Ingrid answered honestly, feeling just as relieved as the two Spaniards at the door looked.

“You guys can come in instead of hanging around by the door.” You told them, Ingrid stifling her laughter behind you.

“You two look cosy. Let me join, I'm jealous.” Mapi grinned, dramatically diving onto the bed and sighing contently as she threw an arm around Ingrid's waist.

Alexia was still lingering awkwardly at the door as three of you lay in one double bed, thinking that she didn't want to intrude on a friendship that had been around far longer than she'd known you. But, as you had done for months now, you continued to surprise her.

“Come lay here, Ale.” You waved her over and pointed for her to lay beside the bed on the ground.

Ale. Sure, everybody called her that, but today was the first time you called her that.

She came over in a heartbeat, probably too eager, but she immediately got down and laid on her back beside you. You looked down at her with a shy smile, red eyes and all, and she returned it instantly with pink cheeks.

“Have you eaten yet?” She whispered, looking at the untouched tray of goods next to her. As you shook your head, she reached to grab the paper bag of bakery-bought cookies she had found in your kitchen and opened them, before taking one out and breaking a bit off to give to you. “Cookies for breakfast.”

“Cookies for breakfast.” You gladly took it and ate it, all whilst smiling down at the woman on the floor.

Alexia Putellas, your captain, a World Cup winner, voted best player in the world numerous times, laying on the floor of your apartment just for you. Playing for this team, in this city, was still such a perplexing situation, though fortunately for all the right reasons.

The rest of the day was spent with Mapi and Ingrid as you had told Alexia to go to her family dinner she had initially cancelled. She was reluctant to do so, but eventually she agreed and you were left with Ingrid and her hyperactive counterpart. They kept you distracted enough throughout the day, going for a walk with you, watching a movie with you, even inviting you back to their apartment for dinner where you spent the majority of the time with Bagheera on your lap. Mapi made digs at the fact her cat loved you more than her, and you just sat there with a grin on your face, knowing it was true and revelling in it. 

At the end of the night, you insisted on going back to your own flat after telling the pair of them you were tired of third-wheeling. With tight hugs from them both and one last gloat from you as Bagheera followed you to the door, you left them and made the very short journey back home. You had unknowingly left your phone there, and as you checked it for the first time in a couple hours, there was a surprise waiting for you on it.

Alexia: Would you like to get breakfast with me tomorrow? 

Alexia: I can meet you at your apartment and we can walk somewhere of your choice

Alexia: But if you don't want to, that’s okay!

Her nervousness radiated through the phone with her slight spam of texts, and you couldn’t help but smile at how endearing it was. As if you could ever say no to that. Even if it was a last minute change of plan, all you were going to do tomorrow was maybe go on a run or go to the gym before staying home all day. This was a welcome surprise.

Sticking true to her word, she showed up at 9am on the dot. Anyone would assume it was the middle of winter in Norway with the way she was dressed, when it was just a rainy day in Barcelona. But she was there, a shy smile on her face that was very uncharacteristic for her as she handed you one of the two umbrellas she had in her hands.

“I do have my own umbrella here, Ale.” You teased her, though you took it and closed the door behind you. When you turned back, there was a red shade to her cheeks.

“Well, good morning to you too.” She grumbled, trying to act grumpy but the smile on her face forced its way through sooner than she wanted. As soon as it did, she drew you in for one of those hugs that you may or may not think about more often than you'd admit.

You both easily fell into step after that, heading towards a quiet little cafe you had frequented since your first week in Barcelona. It was a short walk from your apartment, but that didn’t stop the grumbled complaints from Alexia about the weather the whole way, though by the time you arrived you were quite sure she was doing it just to hear you laugh. Again, it surprised you just how naturally conversation flowed between you both. There was no awkwardness, no nerves, just unfiltered joy spilling from the both of you. It hit you then. You were just being yourself around her. And that’s why it felt so good.

There was no reason to mask around Alexia; you felt safe around her. You could do or say anything, and most likely she would just smile right back at you. She’d seen most versions of you by now, and yet here she still was, inviting you out for breakfast even if it did rain on her parade. She had seen you at your happiest in your first game for the team when she came sprinting over, leading the charge for her teammates to celebrate with you. She saw you yesterday morning after a night of horror, eyes red and puffy, wrapped up unmoving in bed, and she lay on the floor beside you still with a smile on her face. You had already let her in more than some of the people you were closest with back in Germany and her opinion never faltered. 

After finding a table, beside the window of course, Alexia went off to order for the pair of you. Though, when she came back, there was a surprise on your plate.

“Why’d you get me this?” You asked shyly.

“Because it is your… your comfort food, right? I thought you would like it.” She shrugged the gesture off, sitting down across from you like it was nothing. Like it didn’t mean everything to you. It wasn’t the cookie itself that had your heart racing, it was the thought behind it that topped your heart back up with the love it needed after the past thirty-six hours.

“They are, but you didn’t have to do this for me. Thank you.” You said, hiding your smile by taking a drink of the hot cocoa you had chosen.

“Eh, it’s nothing. Have you ever tried this?” She gestured to her choice of meal, one of her favourites. “Pa amb tomàquet.”

“I don’t like tomatoes.” 

“Oh no, cariño.” Alexia muttered after a few quiet moments, shaking her head and dropping her cutlery. “No, no, no.”

“What?” You said in amusement, entertained by her dramatics.

“You just stamped on my culture. You broke my heart.”

“I broke your heart, did I?” You said with a smirk. “You broke my heart when you complained about the rain the whole way here.”

“How can anyone like rain? It is sad and boring.” She argued in mock outrage, though of course she can’t last a second around you without smiling.

“The rain reminds me of home.” You revealed sheepishly. Alexia’s shoulders dropped and her face softened instantly. “Both Norway and Germany, actually.”

“No, I understand. I get it. I never thought about it like that but I understand.” She told you, watching as you nodded and looked out the window. “Do you get homesick?”

“Sometimes.” You admitted in a whisper a minute later, only to clear your throat and turn your attention back to your food and start eating.

“You… you never speak Norwegian with Ingrid.” She stated, though it was clearly more of a question.

“Uh, nope. I find it hard to learn new languages, so when I learnt English and moved to Germany, it was like it became my first language. I can speak Norwegian still, obviously, and I would love to learn Spanish and Catalan but it’s just really tiring switching between languages. Mentally tiring, that is. I never learnt German other than a few basic phrases. It’s just too much to process if that makes sense.” 

You stumbled your way through an explanation of a minor secret you’d been a little shameful of for a while now. It was common courtesy to learn and understand the language of a new country, as well as immersing yourself in that and the culture, but it was something you had always struggled with. Admitting that to someone like Alexia was slightly terrifying.

“That’s okay, a lot of people here speak English so you don’t need to worry about learning the languages. But if you ever want some lessons, if or when you are ready, I could help. Or Aitana, or Jana, or someone else.” 

It was suggestions like that, easy solutions that were offered with no second thought, that made Alexia so endearing.

There was one thought that was ever-present in the back of your mind though, it had been for a while, but the meltdown brought it on even stronger. Once the pair of you had finished your meals and were merely just enjoying each other’s company, it came out before you could stop it.

“Do you think I’m doing well here?”

Alexia paused for a moment to think carefully, before placing her cup down and smiling over at you.

“I do. You want to know what I think?” You nodded with no hesitation. “I remember watching you play against us in the Champion’s League last year, you really caused us a lot of problems. And then I heard the coaches say they were thinking of signing you, and I really wanted you to come because I know you would flourish here. Our play style suits you well, and you are an amazing striker. Your positioning, your creativity, awareness, you are a well-rounded attacker. And outside of the pitch, well… the team is much better off with you here.”

“What do you mean?” You said, almost in a whisper.

“You are just a happy person. The happiest person in the changing room. Any one of us could be having a bad day, but then you are there with your smile and your cheeriness and it really lifts us all up.”

Dumb-founded. That's all you felt in that moment. 

Perhaps your face may not show that considering there was a thoughtful frown on your face as you processed the words nobody had ever said to you before, but then the slight shock wore off and… nope, still dumb-founded.

“Really?” You had to double check, because is that honestly what other people thought of you?

“Yes. It's the truth. Ingrid said she has never seen you bond like this with a team before. Believe me when I say you fit in, everybody loves you. We can't imagine what it's like to not have you now.” 

Well. You just might have to start believing that. What choice were you left with otherwise?

—

Something snapped inside of you after that day. A new problem had formed, one you couldn’t have expected at all. Had you dealt with a similar situation in the past? Yes. But those were much more convenient occasions. This one couldn’t be more inconvenient if you tried.

You couldn’t talk to Mapi about it, or Ingrid, or Alexia. Definitely not Alexia. 

It’s just a crush. You could get over a crush. 

Of course you fall for the first person who showed you a bit of humanity. What’s not to like about Alexia?

She lets you ramble to her when you want to, she sits in silence with you when you need it. During briefings at training, she’ll hand over a pack of chewing gum as she knows it helps you to concentrate or, even in some situations outside of training, she takes her rings off and lets you wear them so you can fidget with them instead of your bad habits of skin picking. She’s seen you very close to your worst, and she’s seen you at your best. She gives you her sunglasses whenever a place is too bright, not just because of the sun as it can be any kind of light, and she lets you squeeze her hand to death during take-offs and landings on planes whilst travelling for away games.

Maybe, maybe, it was a tad more than a crush. It’s not your fault though! She chose to act this way, she had inserted herself right into your life the moment she met you, so… what else were you supposed to do?

Oh boy. 

“Frido! I need your help!” You said in an urgent, hushed whisper. The unsuspecting Swede was just walking to her car after training when you called her name from the window of your own vehicle.

“Everything okay?” She checked with a concerned scowl to her eyebrows, coming over in an instant.

“Yes! Well, no, but yes, but- just get in the car please.” 

With a humoured smile, Frido headed around to the passenger side and hopped in, turning to you with an open expression.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a bit agitated.” She probed once more. Being long-time friends with Ingrid meant you had obviously come to know Frido well too, and she was part of the group you found yourself in at Barcelona, with Aitana and Esmee also. Esmee was the person you sat with on the coach most of the time, you both gave each other the calmness needed after a game… but that was when you weren't with Alexia, of course.

“Yes, I am just screwed, Frido. So screwed.” You groaned, clutching the steering wheel tightly and dropping your forehead to rest on it.

“Why?” 

“I shouldn’t tell anyone but it’s going to explode out of me if I don't talk about it soon. And I can’t tell Ingrid or Mapi, so here we are.” Then you slumped back against your chair, a frustrated sigh leaving you as you crossed your arms.

“You can tell me anything, they don’t have to know. Getting it off your chest will help.” Frido smiled reassuringly at you. 

It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell anyone about it. Having someone else know made it a reality, for you right now it was just a thought, a daydream. But telling Frido would turn this stupid delusion into an actual, real problem rather than something you thought about at night. And during the day. Actually, most of the t- it doesn't matter. 

“You must never tell a soul, Frido.” You glared at her in warning, though you trusted her with your life. “And you can't make fun of me or laugh either. It's not funny.”

“Never, snuppa. I promise.” She swore.

Another sigh as your eyes flitted around anxiously, moving from the car beside you, to the sky, to the blonde waiting patiently for you to find the words you need. Maybe the world will be thrown upside down when you tell her, but it's either that or an implosion, so.

“I like Alexia. Really like her. And it's going to ruin my life.” 

It did not feel better saying it out loud.

“Why wou-”

“Because she is the captain! She’s the leader, everyone looks up to her, she's just being a human and now I have a crush on her! That's not fair on her! All she’s doing is just being nice to me, like everyone else on the team, and my stupid brain had to choose her. Of all people in the world, her! It's going to mess everything up, I've just found my place and I'm finally feeling somewhat comfortable here and then this happens and I just- I hate it!”

Your words shocked yourself, even. Apparently it was a much bigger problem than you initially thought. In reality, you should have picked up on that, relationships historically haven't gone well for you. 

Everybody says they don't care that you're autistic until your disability actually debilitates you. One glimpse of it and they’re gone. Then the world has the audacity to label you as someone who is ‘high-functioning’ with ‘low support needs’ just because you can get up in the morning and go to work. That doesn't mean you struggle any less, you’re not ‘mildly autistic’, those struggles are simply just internalised, therefore other people experience your autism mildly. If anything, they should be thanking you. Thanking you for making their life easier by making your own a million times harder.

Should Alexia ever see you during one of your meltdowns, she’d probably run for the hills. Quit her career, change her name, and flee to another country. That’s what most people did.

“Slow down, slow down. Come back to me, you are spiralling.” There were soft hands holding your own now, stopping you from palming them roughly against your arms, something you did in anxious moments like now. Movement helped you process things, it was no wonder you became a footballer.

“I don’t know what to do, Frido, it will ruin everythi-”

“Hey, be quiet for a moment.” She urged gently, and you turned to look at her with panic in your eyes. “This won’t ruin everything, that is just your anxiety talking. You’re allowed to have a crush on someone, skatt, you’re only human. It’s natural.”

“Yes, but it’s not the fact I have a crush, it’s who the crush is.”

“I know.” She paused for a second, figuring out the best way to help you around this. “When you talk to me, who do you see? Do you see Frido, your friend? Or do you see Fridolina Rolfö, the footballer?”

“I see Frido, my friend.” You answered skeptically.

“When you’re with Alexia, do you see her as Ale, your friend? Or do you see Alexia Putellas, your captain?” 

“She’s just Ale, but I don’t-”

“If you see Alexia like that normally, why are you picturing her differently in this case? As if she’s bigger than you and… unobtainable?”

Viewing it from another perspective definitely gave you some clarity. 

…But, after all, she is your captain?

“I don’t want to mess this opportunity up though. I was really worried I wouldn’t like it here, but now I do and I actually already love it more than Germany, but if I ever acted upon my feelings it could fuck it all up. I don’t know if I could handle that.” You said insecurely, chewing on your lower lip to keep the emotions at bay. 

When Frido had been silent for too long, you turned to look at her, only to find she was doing the same thing. As if she was deep in thought. Before you could coax whatever was clearly on the tip of her tongue out of her though, she was speaking.

“I know something that I shouldn’t. I’m going to tell you anyway because I think it will make you feel a lot better.” She began with a shy, yet excited expression to her features.

“What is it?” You prompted.

“Last week, in Seville. I was walking to my hotel room and… Mapi and Ale were ahead of me in the corridor. I don’t think they knew I was there, and I heard them having a conversation just like ours.”

Oh. Oh.

“How sure are you?” Your eyes searched her face, looking for even just an ounce of hesitation that would throw all this out the window for you. But it wasn’t there.

“I’m very sure, snuppa, I heard basically every word.” She said with an almost proud smile. “I don’t think you have to worry about anything. Sounds like Alexia feels the same as you do. And even if I hadn’t overheard that, it’s clear to a lot of us that Alexia felt that way anyway. Think of how much time she has spent with you since you joined. She doesn’t spend that much time with anyone on the team, to be honest.”

That caught your attention. Now that Frido mentions it, Alexia has spent a lot of time with you. There was that morning she took you out for breakfast, something you hadn't ever expected but after it, you wished it would happen every morning. She always chooses to sit next to you at any given point, whether that be in briefings or whilst travelling, as well as opting to partner up with you in training whenever the opportunity arises. She even took time out of her own evening to cook dinner for you and bring it to you once when you told her you had ran out of your meal prep. 

“I guess.” You mumbled with a frown.

“She’s just a girl after all. Like you.”

Once again, the world had decided to show you just how much your life can change with one single conversation.

—

Not that you acted upon anything, of course. Over a month passed by with things staying the same as they had been for a number of weeks before the revelation with Frido. Training, match, recovery day, repeat. Dinner at Ingrid and Mapi’s apartment every Thursday if the season schedule allowed it. Morning jogs on days-off, evenings spent basking in the golden glow of a Spanish sunset, some of the best you’d seen. There may have possibly been a few more breakfast outings with Alexia. And perhaps just one movie night. Or was it two? 

Regardless, the one good thing about having the natural ability to mask all the inner turmoil you had was being able to hide your feelings when you were around Alexia. On the other hand, your trait of analysing every detail of your life became a bit too exhausting. You were overthinking all of your actions - every word you said, the way you said it, what your hands were doing, what someone might interpret from your body language, every little thing you did kept you up at night. 

You definitely still liked her, that might… never go away. Those feelings only grew and weighed you down more and more, but you couldn’t distance yourself from her no matter how loud your mind screamed at you to do so. You liked her company, she ranked almost as high as Ingrid on your list of… list of what? People you liked? People you felt safe with? People you didn’t have to mask at all around? People you lov- too early.

There was just so much to think about, and so few solutions. There were literally two; you either tell her, or you pretend it never happened. What the hell were you meant to do with those options? Both were equally as terrifying. As if your fear of the future couldn’t get any deeper, you were now stood at a crossroads. Alexia could become the most important person in your life, or she could just become another person you leave behind in this free-for-all career. She could just slip into the past and become a distant memory. 

Massive leaps of faith still weren’t your thing. The fear of the unknown still ran rampant through your veins, and though you’d become a little more relaxed about certain things over the years, this was absolutely not one of those exceptions. The prospect of it all was just too overwhelming. Truthfully, you really didn’t think you could do this.

However, things all came to a head during the last training session of the year in December. Literally.

“Ale? Are you okay?” You asked in a strangled groan, one of your hands coming up to your head as you squinted through one eye to look for the woman you’d just clashed with.

“Oye, sit down. Ale is fine, you both hit heads though so you need to be checked for a concussion. Lay down.” Mapi demanded just as you got back up onto your knees. 

At that moment, you couldn’t have cared less about whether you had a concussion or not, all you cared for was that Alexia was okay. She was, maybe a black eye and a subsequent bruise to her ego, but she was fine. You had taken the brunt of it, straight to the temple.

You followed Mapi’s instruction and layed back down, your head already starting to throb quite a bit. Before you knew it, you were surrounded by some of the medical staff as they checked you over. Once they decided you were well enough to sit up, they urged you to do so as one of them came to cradle your neck to keep it steady. A bright light was flashed into your eyes, making you flinch, but they decided then that if you did have a concussion, it wasn’t too bad. The decision was made to take both you and Alexia inside as the rest of training went on, so the pair of you walked gingerly to the physio room. 

“You okay?” Alexia murmured quietly as you both trailed behind the physios a little. You ignored the way your heart fluttered when her hand found your forearm briefly, and instead blamed it on your head injury (though it may not be physically possible for those occurrences to be linked.)

“Mhm. Are you? I’m sorry that happened.” You replied. The collision was a bit hazy for you, you couldn’t exactly remember what had happened so if you were at fault, you had to make sure she knew it wasn’t purposeful. She had to know.

“No, no apologies, it’s just football. Happens all the time.” She reassured you, smiling comfortingly down at you as she held the door open for you.

In the room, the team ushered you both onto separate beds, forcing ice packs into your hands as they carried out more cautionary checks. And to add to the guilt you felt, they decided to rule you both out of the game tomorrow as a precaution. Your stomach dropped, dreading Alexia’s reaction. Everyone knew about her mentality, a missed game was a missed opportunity. You weren’t quite sure you could ever look her in the eye again.

The second the physios said you both could leave, you hopped off the bench and went to make a run for it. The sooner you could get home, the better. If you avoided the conversation, you could avoid the whole situation, and hide until the Winter break ended.

“Cariño, wait!” Alexia called out, managing to gently stop you by your wrist before you could flee. You didn’t put up much of a fight, you just sighed and lowered your head. Alexia gestured for the rest of the staff to leave the room for the time being, and that only made matters worse. Not only was she going to trap you in a conversation, there weren’t even any witnesses. “I just want to talk about something. Could you sit down?”

You had no choice but to entertain her.

Reluctantly, you sat back down on the physio bench you were on a moment ago, and copied Alexia’s position. Perched on the edge, legs hanging off the side, except your hands gripped the fabric of it quite a bit tighter.

“Sorry.” You whispered with a chagrined look to your face, eyes trained on the swing of your legs.

“What? Why?” Alexia asked. The confusion in her voice led you to look up at her with your own questioning glance.

“For getting us ruled out. We can’t play tomorrow now.” You told her, your eyes again looking anywhere in the room but at her. Then again, that always happened, no matter the occasion. 

“I told you that wasn’t your fault, you really don’t need to apologise. I’m not mad at you, so you don’t need to feel guilty or anything. We’re both okay, it’s just for our safety.” Alexia reminded softly, but with the head space you were in, you couldn’t believe her words just yet.

“What about the game though?” You uttered in a way akin to that of a down-trodden child, and Alexia could only smile in return at it.

“The team will handle it, they’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about anything, it’s all out of your control. Chin up.” Alexia said with a coy grin. 

She laughed freely when you physically tilted your head up and squeezed your eyes shut to give a cheesy smile, and the sound of it instantly calmed most of your worries. 

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” 

“Um, no, actually. There’s another thing.” She scratched the back of her neck nervously as she spoke, and just like that your anxiety came rushing back. “I just, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, so please tell me if I am because that’s not what I wan-”

Was she about to say it?

“Say it, Ale. Just say it.” You interrupted, because if she was going to say it, you needed it right now. You couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Right. Well…” There was a bright redness to her cheeks, not just from the head-to-head a while ago. “I, um, I… I like you. Really like you, actually. As in, I want to go on a date with you.” 

She actually said it.

“In a romantic way?” Your deadpan tone didn’t exactly help Alexia’s nerves in that moment.

“Uh, I’m not sure there’s any other kind of date, cariño, so yes, in a romantic way.” She laughed nervously. You were quiet for a few moments as you inwardly controlled your emotions so that you didn’t totally freak out in front of the woman who had just asked you on a date. 

You had to play it cool, right? That’s what everyone always said.

“Sure. When?”

It was comical, really. You’d waited this long for something to finally happen between you both, and now it seemed you couldn’t care any less. If Alexia could see into your brain right now though, it would be total chaos. Like a scene straight out of Inside Out.

“I guess now that we can’t play tomorrow and we are the only ones ruled out, we could go to the game together?” 

That was… actually a much better idea than you thought. Normally, people go on dates to the cinema or to restaurants or whatever other hellish activity neurotypicals chose to do. But a football game was common ground, something that the pair of you could talk about forever, and it was an environment that you were familiar with. That could absolutely work. A dream, actually. 

Still, you had to play it cool.

“But I’m already going to the game. And I would have to sit with you anyway. And all you would focus on is the game, it wouldn’t be much of a date.” You were teasing her at this point, whilst also worrying that perhaps you had taken it too far again, but Alexia understood you by now. She’d caught on, and this was her favourite version of you she had seen so far.

“Fine, it doesn’t have to be a date then! You could have just said no instead of breaking my heart!” She argued theatrically, a wave of euphoria rushing through her when you threw your head back and laughed. “How about we go out for food after, that can be our date? We can go to one of the markets and get dinner from a food truck and go on a walk, instead of a restaurant. Does that sound like a better date?”

“Yeah, but I was going to say yes to the football game anyway.” You shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, a hint of a smirk on your face as you stood up to put your ice pack away. Alexia watched you do so with a huge smile on her face at your antics. You turned back to her, a hand on your hip where you stood not too far away from her now. “Dinner still sounds good though.”

“You are so annoying.” Alexia hopped down off of the bench and wandered over to you with a shake of her head, throwing her own ice pack down next to yours. “You know that?”

“It’s a love language. Get used to it.” 

The midfielder chuckled under her breath. Secretly, she hoped she was able to get used to it.

“Wait, what do I have to wear tomorrow?” Your eyes suddenly went wide in panic, staring up at Alexia like she held all the answers in the world.

“Well, it is just a football game and a walk, so whatever you are comfy in. Why?” 

“Because it’s a date, I don’t know what you expect me to wear.” You fretted. It had been a long time since your last date. And this was quite possibly the most important one so far.

“I have no expectations, cariño, just make sure you’re warm and comfortable.” Alexia brushed it off like it was nothing, a notion that silenced all those doubts once again. She had a real habit of doing that.

“Okay.” You nodded. 

You realised your close proximity then, noticing you were both quite close. There was one thing that came to mind, but it was surely too early for that. No matter how much you wanted it. One step at a time. Instead, you shyly held your arms out and looked up at her.

She immediately knew what you were after, and who was she to deny you of that. You melted into her embrace the second she invited you in, finally being able to relish in the comfort her hugs brought without overthinking it.

“You are quite oblivious, you know?” Alexia stated with a smirk to break the silence. 

“Shut up, you’re ruining it.”

—

You couldn’t sleep that night, you were way too excited for your date. You were like a giddy kid at Christmas, the smile didn’t leave your face for more than a second. Ingrid came around that night with the intention of checking up on you, but she never could have predicted what information she was walking back to her apartment with. When she found out, she thought she was excited, but Mapi, well, she was on a whole other level. Long story short, Bagheera didn’t surface from under the sofa until the Spaniard had long gone to bed. 

The game kicked off at 2pm, meaning from the second you woke up at 7am sharp, you had way too much energy. Nervous energy. But there was one thing you noticed immediately. You didn’t feel scared, or anxious, or like you wanted to totally avoid the whole situation altogether. You were excited. You woke up feeling like a normal girl going on a date with someone they liked. 

It was new. Refreshing. You felt light, you can’t remember the last time you felt that way about something that would normally freak you the hell out. Spending time with Alexia didn’t feel like a chore, the way it did sometimes with anyone in your life. Rather than draining your social battery, it stayed at the same level with her. If you were feeling especially burnt out one day, it didn’t seem so sickening to have Alexia’s company there like it was with the thought of anyone else. Your mind was peacefully empty when with her, unlike the fast-paced monologue that ran pretty much all hours of the day, even when you were asleep. 

For once in your life, you were going to be optimistic. Because the woman you were meeting had never given you any reason to be otherwise.

So when she knocked on your apartment door, opting out of firing a text your way to say she had arrived, the surprise of not only her presence but the bouquet in her arms was met with a bright smile from yourself. You immediately took them from her and bounded towards the kitchen area to tuck them safely into a vase. Alexia gazed at you the whole time, feeling her own sense of disbelief at the situation she had found herself in. Never could she have imagined falling for you like she had when she met you for the first time six months ago, but she was happier than ever because of it.

There was a beaming smile of her own on her face, and her eyes crinkled with unfiltered joy when you leaned up to kiss her cheek quickly, before rushing around the flat to get everything you needed. Sunglasses, your coat to go over the matching jumper and joggers you were wearing (Alexia did tell you to dress comfortably, after all), and a cap for good measure. Between you both, there was a distinct difference between the amount of clothing layers, something that made you laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” Alexia grumbled, watching you adjust your hair in the mirror after putting your hat on, huffing when it wasn’t agreeing with you.

“You look like you’re dressed for a Norwegian winter. It’s ten degrees.”

“That is cold for me, cariño.” She chuckled, before moving to stand between you and the mirror, and helping you to sort your hair how you wanted it. You blushed and lowered your hands, looking up at her with a shy smile as she worked. “There. You look cute. Cosy.”

“Thank you.” You hummed, cheeks aching from the intensity of your smile when Alexia took hold of your hand and gave it a light squeeze. “You look… warm.”

“Enough with your teasing, let’s go.” Alexia tutted, though she kept your hand in hers as the pair of you left your apartment. It wasn’t until you got to the car that you both reluctantly let go, shooting each other a bashful look before getting into Alexia’s car.

When you arrived at the stadium, both of you spent some time with the team in the locker room, and Alexia addressed them all quickly before you left to find your seats. You had full faith in the team, it was luckily just a league game that most of the younger members of the team would be playing anyway. To be honest, you were quite thankful to not be playing, because it had given way for something better instead.

The majority of the game was spent by both of you talking endlessly about football, both tactical discussions about the game and personal stories for you both. For Alexia, she spoke about how she came to love it so much and how it took her family’s relationship and togetherness to a whole new level. For you, you told her how playing football was the only job you could see yourself succeeding in. The system was routine-based, your work attire was a jersey and shorts, and you were indulging in your special interest everyday of the week. It was an autistic’s person dream to be able to do that, something you were grateful for every time you stepped onto a football pitch. Any other work environment, and you might not have survived. 

Alexia hung onto every word you said, just as you did for her. Learning more about each other was something you both took great interest in, because every detail about your past was how you had become the people you were today. Maybe it was too early to class it as such, but falling in love was a phenomenon that people took for granted nowadays. It’s rare, it’s special, and it’s beautiful. Two people, from entirely different backgrounds, leading unique lives with respective struggles and wins the other hadn’t experienced, only to go on and share every high and low together. Yeah, pretty special in your book. 

With you both being in view of the stadium’s crowd, you were mindful of the watchful eyes around. There was one exception though; during the later stages of the game, the other team had quite a fierce counter attack, something that had both you and Alexia on the edges of your seat. Though, as they neared the goal, the match was the last thing on your mind when Alexia’s hand landed on your knee in anxious anticipation. That hand didn’t move, even when Cata saved the shot with ease. Instead, she just settled back into her seat and turned to you with a deep breath out, the tension leaving her. Then she noticed what she’d done, but before she could retract it, you simply gazed up at her and put your hand on top of hers. 

It remained that way until the whistle blew a few minutes later, when you stood up to make your way down to the rest of the team. You got onto the pitch, Alexia and yourself splitting ways to go and talk to your other teammates. Two familiar faces came bounding over to you and before they even spoke, you could tell what they were going to say just by the smiles tugging at their lips.

“How’s it going?” Mapi asked, poking you in the ribs.

“It’s not gone anywhere yet, we were more focused on the game. But it’s been nice, really nice. It doesn’t feel much different to the other times we’ve hung out, is that good or bad?” You replied with a nervous chuckle, and you got your answer in the form of an excited squeal from Ingrid.

“That’s a good thing! That’s what it was like on our first date, right María?” Mapi nodded enthusiastically, giving you a double thumbs up for extra emphasis. “See! I’m sure you’re doing great, skatt, and I am so happy for you.”

“Me too, preciosa, so happy. Think of the double dates!” Mapi shook your arm vigorously at that, the three of you laughing.

“Let me get through the first one, then I’ll think about it.” That sobered the pair of them up as they nodded in a calmer manner, before they both surged forward to wrap you up in a hug.

“Oh- she’s coming, incoming.” Mapi whispered, pulling away and spinning you around.

“Shall we go, cariño? It might be busy there, so the sooner the better.” 

Just like that, you were being whisked away back into Alexia’s car. She drove to the market, which was decorated for the festive seasons, something you gasped at in awe the second you saw it. Alexia fought off a smile at your reaction which she found much more endearing than she thought she would, and she instantly knew it was a good idea to bring you here. Though you were flying back to Norway in a few days’ time for Christmas back at home, she had a feeling you were a bit more homesick than you were letting on, considering the vast difference in the season between Spain and Norway. Her plan to bring you here, not only for a date, but to cheer you up a bit, was already proving to work.

For a couple hours, you went from stall to stall with a childlike wonder, dragging Alexia along behind you with a tight grip on her hand that you said was just because of the busyness of the area, but both of you revelled in it secretly. That became the truth when you were walking away from the market, slowly heading in the direction of Alexia’s car, until she took you in another direction. Turns out, she was leading you to a beautiful walled garden you had no idea even existed, but the second you saw it you fell in love. Even if it may not have been as stunning as it usually was in the summer, it was still more than enough to capture your attention. 

“This is amazing, Ale, how did you know this was here?” You wondered, head on a swivel looking at each tiny detail, as if there wasn’t enough time in the world to admire its beauty.

One day, in the future, Alexia will reveal that that’s how she feels about you. There are layers to you, and she fears she won’t have enough time in her life to uncover and explore each one. You hold beauty in your physical features, that was the first thing she noticed about you, but it’s the grace of your heart and how you proudly wear it on your sleeve that she adores the most. It's the sparkle in your eyes when you ramble about the things you love most, the unabashed care you treat everyone with, your humour that constantly keeps her on her toes, the purity of your soul and how you have enough unconditional love to give to nearly every being on the planet. There’s plenty to love about you, but that still doesn’t feel like enough for her.

“I have lived here for most of my life, preciosa, I know Barcelona like the back of my hand.” She said, and maybe if you weren’t so oblivious, you might have seen the adoration present in her gaze.

“So you’re saying you know more places like this? And you’ve kept them a secret all this time?”

“Yes, I will show you them all, don’t worry.” She chuckled, slowly walking over to where you were stuck staring at an abundance of pansies in one area of the garden. “Those are Alba’s favourite.” 

“This whole place is my favourite. I love it, thank you for taking me here.” You turned your attention from the flowers and back up to Alexia, who didn’t seem to take any interest in her surroundings. She was just smiling down at you. “What are you smiling at?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’re just standing there, smiling. You haven't even looked around yet. What are you smiling like that for?” You asked in utter confusion. She was genuinely just stood there, perfectly still, seemingly lost in her thoughts, with a soft smile on her face that’s directed solely at you. Instead of answering, she laughs, to your annoyance. 

“I’m just happy, cariño. Happy to be here with you, on a date.” She answered, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Oh. Okay.” You said, hoping the dim lighting from the street lamp wasn’t enough for Alexia to see the blush on your cheeks. “I’m really happy too. I can’t believe you like me.”

You didn’t really mean to say that, but the words tumbled out of you regardless.

“Why do you say that?” Alexia questioned with a frown, deftly taking hold of your hands.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, looking down as your feet fidgeted on the spot, kicking a stone away from underneath you. “I can be a lot, I guess.”

“Well, luckily for you, I have seen your ‘a lot’ and it’s enough for me. You don’t have to worry about that, I promise.” Alexia replied, earnesty clear in her voice. She leaned forward then, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Why do you put yourself down like that?”

“Because I want to be your girlfriend, but I want you to know what you’re getting into.” You told her, taking a slight step back. 

“Loving another human, that’s all I’m getting into.” She took a cautious step closer. “That little voice is taking over, cariño, take a breath with me and know that I’m not going anywhere.”

Trying to calm down is quite hard when there’s a beautiful woman in front of you being so kind that she makes your head spin. Or when she’s giving the softest forehead kisses in all of mankind and holding your hands with a delicateness you’ve never experienced. She’s not just holding your hands right now, she’s got your heart in the palm of her hands.

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” You blurted out, sharply stepping back from her again. 

“I know. You are the strongest person I’ve met, and you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. But who’s to say you can’t have someone by your side anyway?” She smiled like it was nothing. As if her words weren’t everything you’d ever wanted to hear. “Are you scared of me leaving?”

“Yes.” You whispered quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat and growing the confidence to look back up into her eyes.

“I’ve learnt a lot about you these past few months. Not a thing I now know has deterred me from you. I don’t think anything could. All I ask is that you take a chance and let me show you how much I adore and admire you. The feelings, the worries and doubts you have, they go both ways, cariño. I am worried that I might not be good enough for you and that I am not what you need. I am scared that I will get things wrong, and that I-”

You had heard enough, she’d proved her point.

You leant up on the balls of your feet, and kissed her. And she returned it almost instantly. Her hands dropped yours and landed on your hips, steadying you on your tip-toes. Yours wrapped around her neck, drawing her somehow closer. And just like everything had been so far with Alexia, it was easy. It was everything you dreamed of and more. Here, somewhere in Barcelona, not only had you made a life for yourself in just six months, you’d gained a new addition to it too. 

Alexia had taught you a lot in the short time you had known her. But there was one thing that stood out to you; she had unknowingly taught you, just through her actions, that love is accommodation and consideration. It’s knowing what the other needs, and being there when they need it. It won’t be 50/50 everyday, in your case there will be times where it’s 90/10, and there will be occasions that are the same for Alexia. Your struggles don’t define you, and Alexia’s don’t define her. You’re worth it, just as much as she is. Just as much as everybody else.

Just because you’re stuck with a label for the rest of your life, a disability that beats you down when you want anything but that, those don’t mean that everything has to be hard. The truth is, when a genuine connection is found, things can be easy. They can be peaceful. With Alexia, you feel seen, as if you’re being mirrored back to yourself. Now, by loving the right person, you realise that other people shouldn’t always make you feel exhausted, they shouldn’t be the reason why you retreat back into yourself, and most importantly they shouldn't make you feel like you’re impossible to love. 

Life will continue to try and break you down, there’s not a soul on earth that can entirely protect you from that, but having Alexia by your side, just like she said, can lessen the burden. After all, a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved, and joy shared is joy doubled. You have to live, you have to feel,  you have to love, you have to take risks. Because if you hadn’t done that all along, where would you be now?

[copperbadge]

I knew when I gave my stepfather all twelve seasons of The Big Bang Theory I would likely be watching some of it with him, and it's a real experience. I watched a couple of early seasons of the show when it was airing, partly because my folks liked it so it was something we could text about and bond over, but I was usually half-paying attention.

When my stepdad put on a couple of episodes from the season nine DVD, at first I thought we were watching a clip compilation of some kind, because they were jarringly abrupt -- most scenes only seem to last about thirty seconds and rarely are you in one for more than two minutes; often the scenes seem to cut off prematurely. A lot of the time you can read from context what happens next in a scene, but the actual action of it is skipped over in favor of leaping to another weird mini-scene.

There are even sometimes scenes where within the action of the moment there's a slice of conversation very clearly missing -- for example, three of the characters are testing out a retinal scanner, and after finding that it works in conventional ways, two of them try to fool it by showing it one of each of their eyes to scan. But between the "this is how it works" moment and the "let's try and trick it" moment, there's a really rough cut where them coming up with the idea to trick it was clearly meant to go.

It's evident that this was done to tell the most story in the least amount of time, since at this point in television even a 22-minute sitcom was pushing the boundaries of length. But in a way I think it also suggests some reasons the show was so popular. Watching a show cut in this way, your own mind is doing about 40% of the storytelling, and if you're telling a story to yourself you're more likely to enjoy it than when you're being told a full cohesive story, since you have more control over the narrative and can tailor it to your preferences.

It's truly wild to see a fevered collage of mildly suggestive innuendo and jokes designed to appeal to a 4chan teen from 2005 semi-convincingly pass itself off as a narrative, and be viscerally aware that it did it for twelve years.

[eupheme]

k05. sex pollen | choking on flowers

sdv!harvey x f!farmer

rated e - 3.2k

tags: dub-con (due to pollen), multiple pov, mutual pining, self-deprecating thoughts, masturbation, guilt, enthusiastic/rough sex, aphrodisiacs, creampie

“I feel… warm. Hot. It… it hurts,” You manage, your other hand drifting across your abdomen, “I feel empty, Harvey.”

Something inside him growls at the sound of his name. He wants to hear it again, wants to see how it sounds when you mewl it out, pleasure-drunk.

(Or - thanks to some flower seeds you found in the mines, Harvey's first trip to your farm doesn't quite go as planned.)

It's taken two months and twenty-seven days of flirting, subtle hints, and outright invitations, before Harvey plucks up the courage to accept an invitation to your farm.

Your second Summer in Pelican Town - he knows how eager you are to show him your flower beds, from your afternoons stopping by at the clinic. The neat rows of strawberries, cucumbers that make the best pickles he’s ever had.

If only he could get out of his own head, and enjoy it.

His hands brace on his hips, as you take the path from the barn. A smile lingering from the chicks that gathered at his feet. Sneakers swapped for his shiny dress shoes - an olive sweatshirt pulled from the back of his closet, instead of his usual button-up.

Feeling out-of-place on your farm - walking so carefully, avoiding stepping on anything other than wood and cobblestone. None of the loose familiarity that you seem to carry, after a year of hard work and countless mistakes.

A flush heating his cheeks, when you tease that you're so glad he's made it out. Not knowing how he's wanted to agree, each time you asked. That he's picked up on your hints.

That it's just his nerves that steal his tongue. Too set in his ways. Too sure that he's a little too old for someone like you. That surely you've seen the way that Shane looks at you. Yoba, how nearly half the town does.

That he's reading too far into things. Certain that he's been too busy hoping, daydreaming - something not fit for a practical man like himself.

"You've seen these," You comment idly, bending to pluck a sweet pea from the earth.

He resists the urge to tuck it behind your ear, when you hold it aloft for him. Twirling it between long fingers instead, as he glances across the garden.

It's impressive, how it's thrived under your care. Used to visit your grandfather often, especially in the end. Had seen how the crops went from green to yellow, then brown. Drying up, with the sun.

It's nice to see - many cycles later - things growing again.

"What about those?" He asks, pointing towards a short patch of flowers.

You hum, picking one. Head dipping to inhale the scent, before offering it to him like the one before.

"Don't really know," A lift of shoulder, "Found some seeds in the mines. They actually just bloomed this morning. Pretty though, right?"

He's looking at you, as he answers.

"Right."

The flower is honey-sweet, when he brings it to his nose. Thick, velvet-pink petals and a tall anther - clinging with fluffy golden pollen. Realizing his mistake, when he inhales - allergies flaring. Forgetting, as the sneeze wracks through him.

You giggle, as the pink stain rises to his ears. The bud slips next to the sweet pea in his pocket - the flowers poking out near his hip - as you head tips towards the strawberries. Beckoning him to follow, and he's happy to be your shadow.

Three rows of berries later, as you are pointing out where you hope the pumpkins will grow, he starts to feel off.

Think it must be the sun. There isn't shade out in the field, like there is in town. Not fully fall yet, that liminal space between seasons that has you sweating during the day and grabbing a jacket at night.

You're frowning, when his eyes fix on you. Thoughts distracted - wondering if he can peel his sweater off, down to the white shirt beneath.

"You okay?" The sound of your voice sends a ripple down his spine. Goosebumps raising on his arms.

"Yeah." It's unconvincing. Suddenly aware of his pulse, heartbeat accelerated.

The look you shoot him matches your tone, "You wanna go inside for a bit? Believe me, I know how hot it can get."

He hums, and your frown deepens. A hand against his elbow, and it sends another jolt - his muscles stringing tight. It's then that he starts to worry.

To silently run through symptoms, as you lead him inside.

Clinging to the hope that it's just exhaustion from another late night.

Not going to let himself ruin a day he's looked forward to all week.

Doesn't breathe until he gets inside. Too aware of the hand on his shoulder. The way something inside him tightens, grows warm. Sweat starting to bead at his temples.

Heatstroke? His mind whirs away as he steps into the cabin with you. The cool air not quite the balm in the way he hoped it would be.

You hover. Too close - something wafting over him. Another clench in his guts, as he inhales the scent of vanilla, warmed amber, the heat of summer. The sticky cling of strawberry.

"Can I, uh," He manages. Tongue touching against his bottom lip, as if he could taste your scent, "I hate to ask, could I sit down for a minute?"

Could lead him to your couch, but you lead him to your room instead.

The bedroom is dark. Bed neatly made, a quilt tucked up under two pillows. Another shade cooler than the kitchen, with the fan you've left on. Dipping as he sits on the edge, the loose sweatshirt feeling too tight around his limbs.

"I'll get you some water." Your voice is worried. Quiet.

He nods dumbly.

Left alone with thoughts that aren’t quite his, as the door shuts behind you. They swirl at the edge of his mind.

Lascivious. An itch beneath his skin. That heat pooling low, beating with his heart.

Can’t seem to stop thinking about you. Bare legs that peek out from your shorts. The dip of your tank top, the urge to find you - tug it down, so his tongue can drag over every inch of your skin.

Harvey’s head shakes.

It’s like someone dipped into his dreams, and then accelerated them into overdrive. His heart pounding between his ribs as his thigh inch open.

The palm of his hand dripping, squeezing. Trying to relieve the ache.

His breath quickening when he feels how hard he is - thoughts too muddled to notice. That heat flickers, as he presses against the curve of his cock. Where it strains against his jeans, jutting into the fabric.

It’s wrong. He rubs harder, resisting the urge to work the belt open, tug at the zipper.

Stroke himself to the thought and smell of you. Dig around until he finds something of yours to inhale - trick himself into thinking you want him.

Thought this would ease the want, but it only burns brighter. His left hand curling into a fist, nails biting into his skin. An attempt to anchor himself - so he doesn’t go to you.

Afraid what would happen if he did.

He’s drawn to you, always.

The sound of ceramic shattering knocks his senses back into him. Catching the bitten-back gasp, barely audible from behind the wooden door.

For a moment, his mind overrides his condition. Worry flaring - yanking his sweatshirt from where it’s tucked in. Tugging it low as his fist curls around the knob.

Clinging to the doorframe, white-knuckled, as he sees the way you lean against the counter. An old mug broken to pieces beneath you - even from here he can see the way your head droops.

“I don’t-” You start - swallowing, your tongue flicking across your lip. There’s another low throb as he watches, eyes dropping greedily, “Not feeling so good, either.”

The clinical part inside him kicks in. Already assessing, as his eyes jerk up. Fingers pinching into wood, as he tries to concentrate.

Lips parted as you pant. The back of your hand pressing against your cheek, scrubbing across your forehead.

“What are your symptoms?” He coaxes - his voice low and rough.

You almost shudder. Hand dropping to brace against the counter.

“I feel… warm. Hot. It… it hurts,” You manage, your other hand drifting across your abdomen, “I feel empty, Harvey.”

Something inside him growls at the sound of his name. He wants to hear it again, wants to see how it sounds when you mewl it out, pleasure-drunk.

You swallow, “Is… is that how you feel?”

There’s hunger in your eyes, he can see it now.

“Something like that, sweetheart.” The name pulls from him.

Not the emptiness you describe, something greater. The urge to take, to bury himself in you until he’s not sure where he ends, and you begin.

Your head bobs with your nod. He pretends he doesn’t see the way your eyes drag over him, your words coming slowly, “What do you think it is? How do we get better?”

That he doesn’t know. His knuckles ache - hand loosening to smooth over his thighs, trying to keep them from wandering.

Only then does he feel the stem and petals. Something registering.

The flowers.

He plucks the pink bulb from his pocket, tongue trapped between his teeth. The honeyed scent rolls off it in waves now, stealing his breath.

An aphrodisiac. Something like chocolate, oysters, pomegranates - kicked up to a thousand.

Harvey doesn’t have any experience in this. Doesn’t have an answer, in all his hours of studying and practice.

But surely, if arosual ebbs with release, then…

“We can try to ease it.” Harvey manages, “Separately. Maybe I can head home-”

He manages a step, before a heady wave of needy flushes through him. Your cry loud, as if pained by the thought of him leaving.

“You can’t,” You bleat, “I’ll, I’ll just stay out here. We can try.”

Silence hangs. Eyes locked on each other - an urge to close the gap, but still clinging to self-control.

Another low pulse, his jaw gritting.

“Right.”

The door closes behind him. His thumb pressing against the latch, as his back slips against the wood.

This is ridiculous. The thought flutters in his mind, even as his hand is jerking his belt open. Ripping at the buttons and zipper.

A choked moan, when his hand finally wraps around himself. Bliss and agony at once, twining together.

Eyes closing as his head tips back, but all his thoughts are of you. Acutely aware of what you’re doing behind this door. Wondering if you’re thinking of him.

The sharp sting of jealousy at the thought of you picturing someone else, as you ease that empty ache inside you.

His fist moving faster, slick with the way he already drips. Tightening around his cock, as he imagines it’s you. Mouth, hands, pussy - pretty pictures swirling behind his closed eyes as your scent surrounds him.

Already certain of one thing. It hangs heavy, in the back of his mind - as the pleasure builds and then plateaus. His breath short and sharp, as he’s left hanging on the edge.

This isn’t going to be enough.

It feels like you’re on fire.

Even as two fingers sink inside you, you only want more.

Shorts tugged down to your knees, as you sink against the couch. Barely making it there, before the urge to break down the door and go to him overwhelmed you.

You need him.

He’s all you can see, as you try to quell the ache. A wet, rhythmic suck as you set a brutal pace, but it’s not the same.

It’s not Harvey.

Sweet, with the way he blushes. With how he checks on you, worries about you - can’t help but smile, when you’re around.

Harvey, with those long, perfect fingers. With his mouth - the shape your eyes have traced over, again and again.

You’ve wanted him for ages. Seasons passing as stilted conversations grew like the flowers you tended. Friendship, and then more, flourishing and blooming.

He might not want you after this.

It makes you ache in a new way. A pain behind your ribs, instead of low in your belly.

Frustration ripping from your throat with a sob, as the plunge of your fingers keeps you on a knife-edge.

It’s then, that the door opens.

Harvey lingering just inside. Worry scrawled across his flushed features. Beautifully disheveled, glasses askew - clothing hastily buttoned up when he heard your cry.

“I heard-,” He starts, trying so hard not to look down, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Your head shakes.

“I need you.” You beg, “I can’t do this.”

His steps are slow. Hands clenched into fists as he hovers.

“I shouldn’t.” Harvey’s voice is quiet, his eyes pained, “It’s not right. I can’t do that to you-”

Unable to help looking then, jaw ticking as he swallows. Your fingers still moving, slipping out to rub circles against your clit.

“Don’t have to be a doctor right now.” It’s hushed, your eyes heavy-lidded, “I just want you to be, to be-”

“Be?” He echoes - at the edge of the couch now. Helplessly drawn to you. Hips nudging against the back of his hand, as his fingers curl around the wooden arm.

“Mine.”

It rips from you. An anguished admission, unable to hold it back any longer.

His features soften. Fingers unfurling, with his own confession, “Always been yours.”

Harvey meets you, as you push yourself up. Letting you tug him down on top of you, as your mouth tilts greedily up to his.

Your heart jolting, when your lips finally meet. A moan buzzing in your throat as he fits himself between your thighs. Folding himself onto your couch, as his hand maps out your skin.

Hips, waist. Skittering up to your jaw, cupping your face as his tongue licks into your mouth.

“Harvey please.” You beg.

Whine, whimper. Hip lifting against his, as he grinds down. The hard curve of his cock presses against your bare skin, the friction sending up jolts of pleasure.

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. In your room - that particular thought not necessarily a new one.

But wishing you could help him. That he would want to help you. Picturing the way his hand would wrap around - in. your pollen-haze, you had imagined he was thinking of you.

Now you’re certain he was, with the way your name slips from him.

With the way his hips rock - needy. Bucking into your hand, when your fingers drift to help free him fully.

You try to guide him into you, but he slips against slick skin. Gliding against your folds, as his head dips between his shoulders.

“S-Shouldn’t.” He breathes. Glasses dipping down his nose, as his jaw clenches, “I’m sorry, darling-”

“I’m sorry, too.” Your teeth sink into your lower lip, to muffle the sound he pulls from you, “Sorry it’s like this-”

The pleasure tips into pain. A cramp in your guts that has you crying out, a hand flattening against your stomach.

His expression morphing into worry, his hand covering yours.

“But I’m not sorry it’s you.”

Out of everyone who could help you, you know it could only be Harvey.

Silence hangs for a heartbeat. Sweat beads at your temple as his eyes search yours. The slow dip of his head until he can kiss you again.

Something soft mumbled out.

“This okay?” His hand nudges, replacing yours. A tremble as he holds himself against you, the head of his cock teasing at your hole, “I mean, I know it’s not. Are you-?”

“You know I am.” You whine, “I need you, Harvey-”

His name strings out, as he sinks into you. The couch creaking as you jolt - a sharp hiss between clenched teeth when he feels how warm and wet you are around him.

Forgetting to take things slow, as his mind swirls. Sending you from empty to full with the rut of his hips, your toes curling as his hips snap flush with yours.

“Oh, fuck,” You gasp. That deep itch scratched. Pleasure blooming, as you clench around him, “‘m fine. Just, please-”

Harvey inches out, only to drive back in.

���I know.”

His forehead pressing to yours, as he starts to rock into you, over and over. It leaves you feeling swollen to the touch. A little hitch in your breath each time the head of his cock skates across that spot inside you.

Your pussy drooling around his cock, sticky-slick as his hands brace against the couch. Fingers biting into the fabric, panting against your mouth as you share the same breath.

His name a ragged moan, as the need in your guts is fed. Kept content, as long as he stayed inside you - rutting tirelessly. Each pump of his hips feels like a step taken towards the edge of a cliff, his fingers entwined in yours as he prepares to leap with you.

“Feels-” Harvey breathes, as your hips lift to meet his, “You feel so good, sweetheart.”

You clench around him and he groans. The coarse hairs at the base of his cock rubbing against your swollen clit, sending up fireworks inside your belly.

Winding you higher and higher, until your left clinging to him. Lips pressing against his throat - inhaling. Letting him surround you, as your breath turns short and sharp.

“Harvey.” It’s a plea and a warning, your teeth skating across his skin.

“Tell me you’re close,” He begs, “I can’t, honey-”

Cant hold back much longer. Needs to feel you come with him, around him.

Your answer is swept away with your need. His balance shifting just enough to fit the tips of two fingers against you. Circling with the same rhythm he had watched you set.

His name is chanted out, as you arch against him. A soft whine that turns loud, until your hips are bucking up - relief roaring through you like fire, as your words string into broken cries.

It feels like you pulse around him in time with your heartbeat. Feeling the throb of his cock inside you as he follows, his mouth pressing messily to yours as you swallow his ragged groan.

The needy pace slowing, as you start to come back down. Still so full of him but the frenzy has ebbed - the jittering in your veins flatlining, as you manage to suck in a breath.

Shame washing over you, as your fingers wrap in his t-shirt. Torn between clinging to him and pushing him away - so sure this ruined the delicate thing you’ve been tending.

“Harvey, I-”

Another throb, as the pollen kicks to life instead. You can see it written across his face, that base need fighting with his logic.

Your thoughts reflected in his eyes as well. A little nod that you match, as he starts to move again.

Something soft murmured out, before he loses himself again. Another thrust.

“Not your fault.” He tells you, “I’m not sorry that it was you, either.”

He’ll still want you, after this.

He’ll want you forever.

The sling of your arm blocks out the rays of sun that creep in through the windows. Sweat-dewed skin, pressed together.

Somewhere between this round and the last, you made it to your room. More space there, your knees pressing into the mattress as he made you moan into the sheets.

He leaks from you. Too much - it’s sticky on your thighs, dripping down to the fabric below.

“Again?” You ask - that warmth still blooming within you. The sharp edge tempered, but it still hums in your veins.

A groan, as he guides you on top of him. In the same state you are. That haze gone from his pretty eyes, but he’s still hard beneath you.

Still wanting.

Hips lifting into your touch as you grip him, lining him up.

He tugs you down. Flush. Twin groans as his cock spears deep again. More of him dripping down, forced out as he fills you perfectly.

“Again.”

thank you for reading! 💖

[yonpote]

ok heres how i split up the dnp eras (loosely based on dan's timeline in his interview w anthony)

2009-2011: the Sillies era :3 dan refered to it as being a dumb teen just posting cuz he was bored, which is like, thats what all of youtube culture was at this time. they met and like fell in love or whatever you know the lore dont you. phil moved from his parents home to his first apartment in manchester, and dan technically moved to uni but really he moved into phil's apartment to take advantage of his washing machine and ps1 and. yknow. other stuff. they officially moved in together in 2011 yippee hooray, the phanchester apartment holds a special place in my heart

2012-2013: THE SHIFT. they started getting Serious about youtube as a career, doing more stuff w the radio, superamazingproject started in 2011 but THE SHIFT is very easy to observe when you compare the first season of sap to the last season. ALSO. they were NOT A DOUBLE ACT AND NOT GAY 🙄. it could also be called the No Homo era lmao idk this is when a lot of shitty things were happening wrt leaked information, harassment of their families, and just generally becoming more in the spotlight especially while still in the closet being a horrible experience. but also, they moved to london and got cool opportunities with radio stuff and were starting to actually make a living on this shit.

2014-2016: Peak Dan And Phil™ Era. at the height of their popularity. they realized oh shit, we ARE a double act and not only does everyone enjoy us best as a double act, WE enjoy working together. tabinof, tatinof, dapgo, still doing the radio every month up until they start touring, 7 second challenge app, gamingmas, what the hell DIDNT they do during this time period (what they didnt do was uhh take care of themselves and not overwork and not blur their work and personal lives so much to the point where they felt like the whole apartment was a film set.)

2017-2018: Gay Softlaunch Era (aka post-baking aka glass closet) the baby steps toward authenticity, moved to the double apartment to separate work and life, ii's whole theme, dan talking abt depression, phil getting the quiff, both of them being gay as hell in every way other than saying it explicitly. important things of note: TRUTH BOMBS dropped, Interactive Introverts happened, still uploading gaming vids and honestly by the end you could feel their fatigue. and then they hiatused dapg.

2019-2022: ok these four years each feel like whole eras in themselves, but also theres an overarching theme. THE GAY ERA.

2019: im gonna futher split this year in half. first half- dad left to buy milk so other dad is taking care of us. rough six months for dannies im sure. important phil thing of note- he changed his film set from his "bedroom" to a fairly basic but cute shelf backdrop. honestly prob didnt wanna keep pretending that was his bedroom considering.... second half- DAN AND PHIL GAY. dan uploads his magnum opus. phil comes out via tweet. they go to japan and its really gay and it's The Trip to japan for them like yes they first went in 2015 and again in 2023, but Japhan 2.0 Was The One. what does this mean? proposal? anniversary? idk exactly but it was gay as hell dude and theyve talked about that trip with such love in their hearts.

2020: Phandemic (sorry that was bad) but also where tf is dan again? even with the big C-word happening, it was business as usual for phil, regular vids but make em gayer, caught a pigeon nbd, and end of the year introduces the Stereo app show Phil and Phriends where he's had chats with pj, louise, his brother, seth everman?????, and finally. dan reappears. they reveal that they bought and FULLY PLANNED a house together and are ready to move!

2021: they don't move house for another like six months! basically their house was (and is??) still being worked on AND they were in lockdown AND turns out at the end of last year, they were kicked from their Life apartment and were now living in the Work apartment so you can imagine what all of this can do to their psyche and lowkey they were getting sick of each other like it wasnt just bordering on phivorce it was nearly Phurder. Phidow. but to fill the time so that DOESNT happen, my favorite fucking thing ever happens: Lockdown Lads (and all the other names). the first taste of what a dnp podcast would sound like, with the added bonus of chaotic listener interaction. oh yeah also dan wrote a mental health guide book whatever (IM KIDDING I REALLY LIKE YWGTTN I WROTE LIKE TWO REVIEWS ON IT NOW) and they finally become Homosexual Homeowners. theres quite a bit more dnp content this year, dan being on phils channel a bit more, the phodcasts, dan's gay and not proud special.... oh yeah and hometown showdown i guess AND TEXT VIDEO 2!!! my favorite and my namesake!!!!!!!

2022: Prophecy Year..... but they didnt get married. dan returns with another longass video to say: hey i hate being a youtuber and also youtube majorly fucked me over. but also fuck that im gonna do a weird talk show and ALSO GO ON TOUR WITH THIS APOCALYPSE THEME! phil actually... slows down this year. more dan uploads than phil somehow??? but also Dan Is Leaving me is posted and i go completely insane and become the deranged individual you see today. WHICH FINALLY LEADS US TOOOOOO

2023-present: The Unhinged Era. dan's tour was a huge Emotional success for him but uh not without its hiccups due to management and all that and i think he and phil finally realize. Fuck It Who Cares. dan flies back to england FROM AUSTRALIA to make sure he can be with his future ex-husband on his birthday. CAKE HEART EMOJI. YELLOW PLAID SHACKET. they go on a gamer date and post a picture of playing footsies in a cab. THE PHUDE HAPPENS. they go to japan again and while this one will never be The One it was still a well earned holiday this time with bryony! and they took a bunch of very cute film camera pictures.... THIS IS ALL JUST THE FIRST HALF OF 2023 BTW. in phil news, he talks about going to therapy and figuring out how to manage his anxiety!!!! he changes his hair again!! he hires an editor, phan is his otp, he teases about the gaming channel a couple of times but so many of us already dropped any hope of that returning- OH WAIT WHAT THE FUCK?!!!? HUH!??!? they returned, and more chaotic than ever before. the gayness upped to the max, the Weirdness on full speed, the Horniness at Very Scary Levels Oh God Stop Talking About Dogging, phil can swear uncensored now???? and this energy has continued into today...

[chaiifluuf]

•°. *࿐ What if all i need is you? — d. osamu

synopsis. after going underground for the time being to leave the port mafia, yours and dazai’s friendship starts to feel like something else

content. gn!reader, spoilers for the dark era/season 2 ep 4, lowercase, comfort, fluff, hcs + one-shot, clingy dazai, lowkey bad writing??

notes. i don’t think i’ve ever been this nervous about posting something ( ; ω ; ), anyways first post and first time attempting to actually write smth so this most likely has grammatical mistakes…

dazai who, after witnessing his best friend’s death, arrived at your doorstep at midnight and without a second thought asked you to run away with him.

dazai who tells you everything that happened and why he is willing to make a change, hoping you will come along with him.

dazai who is deep down desperate for your comfort and touch, your soothing words that somehow always manage to find a way to his heart.

dazai who at one point couldn’t hold it together anymore and spends many nights silently crying into your shoulder, for the first time allowing himself to be vulnerable around you.

dazai who believes he will never be quite enough to deserve your endless amount of care and affection.

dazai who was able to have a full night of near peaceful sleep in a while, all thanks to your warmth and mere presence next to him.

dazai who realises how much you truly matter to him, how he can’t ignore the warm feeling in his chest whenever he sees you, how his body craves for you.

dazai who slowly starts to think that maybe with you he can do this and become the better person who odasaku wished him to be.

the full moon was shining brightly tonight, slightly peeking through the curtains of your shared apartment. the weather is calm, only a soft breeze passing by at times. it’s almost been half a year now since you and dazai went underground and it’s been quiet to say the least. with some help from ango, you were able to find a small temporary apartment in the suburbs, away from the main city.

the first few weeks after agreeing to go with him were rather rough. dazai was uncharacteristically quiet most of the time, his eyes seeming even duller and more distant than usually. it was clear to you how much odasaku’s death had really affected him and you can’t blame him. the best you could do was to tell him it was going to be okay and be there for him in any way needed, a reminder that you’re here to stay.

Another thing you weren’t used to was how clingy he would become.

despite the two of you not being in a relationship, it was almost unreal how touchy you got with each other. Sleeping and basking in each other’s warmth, the lingering touches when the other had to go elsewhere, the small caresses were like a second language for him at this point. and it never made you uncomfortable.

as of now you are finishing watching a film, one that has been sitting in your watchlist for a while now. the ending of it left you a little disappointed but overall it was more than enough to cure your boredom. with a soft sigh, you turn the tv off and place the remote control away.

your gaze drifts down to your chest, a view of familiar brown and soft hair snuggled up to you. he has been practically in the same position for the whole duration you watched the film, a pair of arms securely wrapped around your waist and his head resting against your chest. it's a serene sight.

judging by his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, he seems to be asleep. which is rather rare since the only time he gets actual sleep is late at night if even that. you briefly check your phone and it's barely ten pm. your hand finds itself in his hair, gently brushing through it as you untangle a few knots. it really was beyond your understanding of how soft it is. if you could spend your whole day just caressing his hair you would.

you can’t help but take notice of his features when you brush some of his bangs to the side. he looked absolutely ethereal and it made your heart beat faster without you realising it. you wish he could see himself the way you do. but then again he has said the same thing about you so that’s that. you will never get tired of his peaceful state though, looking as if there is not a single worry on his mind.

more often than you would like to admit, you wonder what you two are. up until running away, you were just close friends with him, friends who got along well. sure there was the typical dazai flirting and petnames here and there but you didn’t think they meant anything further than that. however, overtime you can’t deny the fact you might just have fallen for him.

but now you don’t know. do friends hold each other so intimately? do friends make most of your meals because they know you won’t eat anything else? does a friend look at you so longingly, even if it’s for a split second? and once you ponder about that, you start doubting if he feels the same. what if he doesn’t see you like that? what if he’ll get bored of you eventually? what if—

a small movement from dazai was enough to snap you out of your thoughts. he slightly shifted his position, letting out a faint exhale afterwards.

“‘samu?” you murmur as you stare at him for a little, expecting him to wake up but to your surprise he’s still in his slumber.

there is a certain glint of softness in your eyes before you close them and lightly bury your face into his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. despite your calm breaths, your mind was still running.

“…i love you.” your voice was barely audible. for whatever reason, you felt the need to say it, the very same three words that have plagued your thoughts for a while now. you know he didn’t hear it but at least that’s what made it easier to say. maybe one day you’ll finally let go of all your doubts and fears and confess to him, telling him how much he really means to you.

“you do?”

your heart drops. for a second you wondered if you really heard that or not. there was no way.

“what?” you respond quietly, almost in disbelief. dazai turns his head to get a better look at you as well as move a little closer. his eyes were half open but you can still see the glint of playfulness in them. a faint smirk was on his face. this man… is this supposed to mean that this whole time he was only pretending to be asleep?!

“you love me?” he repeated his question, a bit of teasing evident in his tone. god you wanted to smack that smug smile off his face. perhaps you should have never opened your mouth in the first place.

“ah, i just… i mean…” your words trailed off as your heart started to speed up. suddenly you didn’t know what to say but if he really heard your words earlier then the answer must be obvious. you’re sure you look flustered right now and you can’t even hide it from him since he’s right in front of you.

however, what he did next made your world freeze in time.

without a warning dazai slowly closed the distance and softly touched your lips with his. having you so distracted that you didn’t even notice when he moved his hand to the back your head.

the kiss lasted for about three seconds but it sure felt like an eternity. his lips were much softer than you thought, despite you not having enough time to fully react to the kiss. for a moment you can’t help but question if this was real or another dream you were about to wake up from.

his face still stayed close, his lips slightly parted as his warm breath hit your skin. “i think i love you too y’know..” he mumbled while gently caressing the corner of your jaw. his voice seemed more sincere when he said that.

and just like that all of you anxieties disappeared. you don’t what came over you but what you do know is that you captured his lips with yours once again. only this time you felt the need to go deeper, like you couldn’t get enough of him.

dazai welcomed your initiative warmly, letting out a quiet hum as you kissed him once again. you had no idea kissing someone could feel this good. you swear you can feel him smiling against your lips at some point and it makes your heart skip a beat. your hands wander through his hair, holding him close as your body relaxes.

you guessed all those times he bragged about being a good kisser turned out to be true after all.

when the two of you part to take a moment to breathe, he takes the chance to tease you again. “i’m still waiting for an answer to my question, bella.” he says softly.

yeah, this was definitely real.

thank you so much if you made it this far !<3 literally need to stop rereading this because it gets worse every time i do help

[sir-adamus]

i've got the blu ray for volume 1 playing and i'm watching the behind the scenes video and Monty explicitly spells out how important collaboration with other creatives was in building RWBY, saying how he wanted to work with Kerry and Miles on it in creating the world and how he mostly gave them broad strokes. and it's mentioned how they all put the show bible together - i'm gonna put the whole transcript for the video under the cut (which i'm having to do myself because no one has uploaded this video anywhere as far as i can tell and there's no fucking subtitles)

Monty Oum [Creator and Director]: It’s the stories I’ve always wanted to tell versus the idea I came up with about, a little over a year ago. And we were talking about doing another show, and I just kind of half-asleep came up with the idea of a color rule for a bunch of characters. The red, white, black and yellow color scheme was something that was very prominent even in my previous work, so I started matching names up, matching ideas up. Also thinking about like, some of the ideas I’d stored up over the years. At some point or another the word ‘RWBY’ came to me.

Monty: Starting the show out originally, I designed the original character, Ruby, as well as going into the other characters. So once I had the first trailer done, and thinking about the rest of the characters for the show, I started bringing in other artists who I had watched for years. People I’d always said “someday I’ll work with them, someday I’ll have them design for me.” And when I was certain about having certain characters, I first contacted an artist I admired and found over DeviantArt. Her name was Ein Lee, she’s actually from Taiwan, and I found her art probably well over five years ago, and just loved her art style, and therefore wanted to incorporate it into my characters. So, I would do rough designs for team RWBY as well as designs for team JNPR, and she would flesh that out to be even further. To the point where eventually I didn’t need to design characters anymore, she started designing a bunch of the rest of the characters down the line.

Monty: The second person I brought on to RWBY was Kerry, because we had just been having conversations about the kind of show we could make. I’d been working with Miles on Season 10. He was writing scenes while I was making scenes, and so the three of us would have a lot of meetings and collaborate on the show to the point where I just started coming up with the broad strokes eventually and they had pretty much written the bulk of the show. Collaboration’s a big deal here, and I tried to include as many people as I can.

Kerry Shawcross [Co-writer]: Right after RvB ended, we wanted to just go straight into RWBY, but that was like right when we were going into commercial season. So we would work our normal hours here. Like 10 to 7-ish, then we would go back to one of our apartments and just start writing.

Miles Luna [Co-writer]: Monty really was enthusiastic about having these characters that may appear really one-dimensional for like the first few scenes that you see them, but the longer you get to know them, you realise “Oh, Yang isn’t just a dumb blonde party girl. She’s a very caring and nurturing girl, that has had to essentially be there for Ruby when she was young.”

Kathleen Zuelch [Producer]: When Monty and Miles and Kerry came to me, and really took me through the story. I started becoming a huge believer, because I’m a big fan of old school, traditional fairy tales, I love the Brothers Grimm, I love all the Snow White, and I love Little Red Riding Hood. I grew up with all of those stories, and the way that they were very clever in creating this whole world that’s kind of making homage to all of these amazing stories really inspired me to get more on board with what they wanted to do with this whole anime show.

Taylor McNee (née Pelto) [Art Director]: The world of RWBY, it looks very familiar. We wanted a blend of very classic looking architecture and clothing and cars, but we’re also mixing in this really kind of futuristic feel, like these little touches of some really futuristic stuff like holograms and things that you wouldn’t find in a classic [inaudible]. And that’s how we’re making this world unique. Our assets have to go through this pipeline of concept, modelling, texturing, and then finally being able to be put into the 3D program. So we start out with the concept and we usually bring that image into Maya, which is the main 3D software that we use. We have to make a 3D model that looks exactly like the concept that we were given, and it’s quite a process. Basically, we’re pushing polys and extruding stuff until we make the perfect shape, then afterwards we have to UV unwrap it, and then lay everything out on a texture sheet and then paint it, and that will put the image on the model. After that we’re basically done with the model and texture, and then we have to give it to the animators. So then we will set it up in Poser so the animators can grab it and use it for their characters.

Gray Haddock [Lead Editor]: There’s a lot of people working on this show, and there’s a lot of different elements in the pipeline. Editorial kinda serves as a hub between all the different departments, so we help all the communication and coordination between all the different pieces of the show, depending on what part of development that they’re in. Editorial’s getting involved way early in the process, we work alongside the director and the writers and the storyboard artists, and we use the scripts to help develop the storyboards and the camera angles for all those boards. So editorial is responsible for building up the moments of any given scene in terms of the timing and what you wanna look at, at any given moment. So we take the script and we help develop the camera angles and how long you wanna linger in a particular camera angle, look at one character or another or the scene as a whole, and the rhythm of the scene in terms of how long is it gonna take to spend on a particular line or when you want the music to come in, things like that. So we build up a set of animatics with the storyboards, and the first pass of all the audio. This is what then is handed off to the animators, so they can know exactly what is in what shot and how long do they have to animate it in a given shot. And once they’re done animating and their shot’s been approved, then their shot goes to the render farm, we get the rendered shot back and we drop it into the timeline for our episode and finesse the cut a little bit if we have to. But for the most part, we’ve done our job right and everything should pretty much be locked in for the most part by the time we’re getting animation.

Kerry: What’s kinda interesting as we’re creating the characters is, we kinda knew what kind of character they’d be. We knew Ruby would act a certain way, we knew Weiss would act a certain way, but we didn’t really know much about them. So we would get to the point where we’d be figuring out plotlines or figuring out dialogue and we’d be like “What would Weiss say here? What would Nora say here?” And then it turned into “Oh well now we know.”

Miles: Obviously we put a lot of thought into Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang before we started writing the dialogue. I remember sitting upstairs and we made a show bible, and we’re starting- we talked about likes, dislikes, personality traits. One of the first things I remember making was “Weiss drinks coffee. Blake drinks tea.”

Kerry: It’s important. It sounds not important at all, but it’s very important. It says so much about them

Miles: But it’s so important. So much about them, also it says nothing about them. It was just like- that’s just what it is.

Monty: I want the show to have resonance with people who are growing up. Cos everyone’s story is the story of kind of becoming who they are. Especially these days when the path of becoming who you are tends to be marginalised with reality. Having done what I’ve done, where I’ve essentially dropped out of high school, started learning this stuff on my own, and therefore land in a position where I get to take the things I was dreaming about when I was growing up and make it real. I tend to get a lot of response from people who are also not sure what they’re meant to become, a lot of them also have the same bright imaginations and with the way the world is, the hardships of what it means to grow up tends to marginalise who you are, and I would hate that to happen to anyone because the future is in creativity and that’s not something you can just manufacture. I actually would like this show to grow up with the people, so unlike most shows where they tend to be ageless or age very slowly, I’d like our fifteen-year-old fans watching fifteen-year-old Ruby, when they’re twenty-five, to be watching twenty-five-year-old Ruby, and to actually have some resonance with the character. Probably one of my favourite types of feedback is to say “I know this person” or “this person is just like me,” and that’s probably one of the best things about coming up with these characters.

[mendessi]

ii. the sun

The sun portends good fortune, happiness, joy and harmony. It represents the universe coming together and agreeing with your path and aiding forward movement into something greater.

paring: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you meet joel for the first time while working as a trauma nurse in the emergency room at a hospital in austin, texas. joel can't handle a few stitches so he distracts himself by flirting with you.

warnings: pre-outbreak, mentions of injury, blood, stitches, flirty/nervous!joel, mention of a car accident, me pretending i know what being a nurse is like, no use of y/n

masterlist

minors DNI

Your day had been ridiculously rough but thankfully it was coming to an end within the next two hours. It was Saturday which meant it was one of your longer shifts at the hospital and it felt like it had no end in sight.

There had been a game at the university which brought a ton of mid day drinking to underage college students who couldn't handle their alcohol. This also typically meant a ton of fights between the rivaling teams, drunk driving accidents, and typical college bullshit that never seemed to end during the football season. If there was one thing you had learned about Texans since moving there was that they take their football seriously. Especially for a school like UT.

"Talk about a rough day." You say to your co-worker when you both finally have a second to breathe at the nurse's station. You flip open a chart to ensure everything is set for a patient's release and then shut it.

"At least Bradley over there didn't throw up on your brand new sneakers." Belle said to you with a sigh.

"College boys, what can you do?" You say with a laugh.

"So cute and yet so so stupid." She looked down at her pager and then groaned. "Great. I gotta run."

You grabbed your stack of release papers off the printer, stapled them and then headed over to one of your patients for them to sign. Considering it had been an early game, the chaos was settling down in the ER and the shift was getting easier which was a good sign you'd actually be leaving on time.

"Alright then Mr. Olson, you're all set." You gave your best smile and then turned on your heel after receiving the necessary paperwork.

"Hey, can you grab bed three? Brad needs his IV changed." Belle said as she quickly passed you by.

"Brad? We're calling him Brad now?" You huffed throwing your arms up. "Belle, I'm supposed to be leaving now."

"Sorry, love you!" She didn't even turn to look at you as she hustled off towards bed six where Brad was still recovering from his alcohol poisoning.

You roll your eyes and pick up the chart for bed three, reading over it as you walk towards the patient. Injury to hand. Probably from a bar fight. You pull the curtain back with a smile, slighlty surprised that the man sitting on the edge of the bed was not a college student but a grown man. Half a relief.

"Mr. Miller?" You say, pulling up your chair to sit in front of him saying your spiel, "How are you doing? I'm a RN at Austin General and I'm just gonna see what's going on and hopefully we'll get you out of here in about an hour, yeah?"

"Joel, please." He says. You can't help but take note of how handsome he is compared to the other drunk men that have come into ER today. Either he sobered up due to the gaping cut in his hand or he had time to sober up on his drive over here. "You're not from round here are you?"

"Seattle. That obvious, huh?" You say with a laugh. "I'm just gonna take a look." You take his hand, pausing for a moment when he sucks a breath of air through his teeth.

You unravel the sketchy and poorly wrapped t-shirt around Joel's hand, hiding any reaction you have to gash in the palm of his hand that is still bleeding.

"Get into a fight?" You ask, trying to make light conversation after seeing his pained reaction to the injury.

"Yeah, you should see the other guy." He laughs lightly.

"What really happened?" You ask, grabbing the antiseptic to clean the wound. This man was far from drunk.

You could see by the dirt on his hands that this was not a bar fight and indeed probably just a work related accident. What, you couldn't guess, but the man in front of you didn't give off the energy he was coming down from being wasted.

"Tried catching a pane of glass that was falling over. Sliced right through my hand." He said, watching your hands as they worked. "Not gonna need stitches or nothin, will it?"

"I wish I could give you the answer you want." You tell him with empathy coming to the conclusion that it was deep enough to not heal on its own and would need stitches.

"Shit," He sighs.

"It'll take about ten minutes tops. Not too bad." You finish preparing the wound and grab a fresh pair of gloves and your suture kit.

"You gonna do em?" He asked.

"Yes sir." You look up at him again from your chair and his eyes meet yours. They're soft and brown, and you almost imagine what they'd look like in the sun. Probably like honey, you think.

"You ever had em before?" He asks and you gesture to the small scar on your temple.

"My cousin pushed me out of our tree house when I was five. Cracked my head open pretty bad. Seven stitches." You say. "If five year old me can handle it, thirty-four year old you can handle it."

"How old are you now?" He asks.

"Twenty-four." You reply, pushing his fingers open so that his hand is laying flat on the table in front of you.

"Pretty young to be a nurse, I'd say. Pretty though." He says and almost immediately after he face palms with his free hand. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous."

You almost smile and then remember the amount of times you had been hit on today was astronomical between all of the college kids coming in and out of the ER. How hard could it possibly be for any men to keep their testosterone levels steady and not flirt with women simply trying to do their jobs. You do feel a little bit of empathy for him as needles do seem to make him nervous but you've had a hard, never ending day so nothing amuses you.

You look up at him with a blank stare, "Try to move as little as possible."

"Tell me somethin true." He says as you begin your first suture. He keeps his eyes on you but you're focused on stitching his hand back together.

"Such as?"

"About you." He releases a shaky breath and you notice his finger tips start shaking slightly. The caring person you are feels sorry for him. He does seem like a nice guy who is just dealing with the fact that he has a four inch slice in his hand.

"I think I'm quite an open book." You say, your eyebrows furrowing as you work carefully on his hand.

"I'd say the opposite." His voice is low and it's hard to tell if he's struggling to hold his composure or if he's still trying to flirt.

"I entered this field because when I was twelve I was in a pretty brutal car accident. I was in the hospital for weeks but the nurses that cared for me quickly became my reason for living. I was miserable, it was quite literally the worst time of my life, but I was excited to wake up everyday because I knew they'd be there to greet me. They were just doing their jobs, but it was so much more for me. I wanted to do that for other people." You talk quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. As you go on, you notice his fingers stop shaking and the muscles in his arm that were tense relax.

"I think you're doin a stand up job." You look up at him, a small smile on your lips. "You're makin this this thing a whole lot easier."

That was definitely flirting. Though, looking at him now, you don't seem to mind it much anymore.

"You flirt with women every time you go into their workplace?" You ask. You're half joking. What's the worst that can happen, you'll flirt, he'll be discharged and then you'll never see him again.

"Only the pretty ones." You look into his eyes, yours narrowed as you judge his words. He's not smiling anymore.

"You think I'm pretty." It comes out more as a statement than a question. You almost flip your hair but then remember you're supposed to be suturing his hand.

"I think you're the most stunning woman to ever walk the streets of Austin." He's 100% serious and you can tell he means what he's saying.

You're cheeks are red at this point and there's no hiding it. "You're not half bad compared to the boys that have been in and out of this ER today."

"That's cus I'm a man." He straightens his posture and you can't help but laugh at the bad line. "That was a bad one, m' sorry."

"Good to know." You glance at him and cut the suture. You wrap a bandage around his hand and then scribble stuff down on his papers. "Seven stitches."

"What time are you out of here?" He asks as he examines your work on his hand.

"As soon as you're gone." You say standing up. "I'm gonna grab your discharge papers and I'll be right back."

"Let me take you to dinner." He states more than asks.

"I don't go out with patients." You say before walking away to the nurses station located in the center of the floor.

As you print his papers and sign and date them you can feel his eyes on you but you avoid looking up. He was probably the only sober man you spoke with today and while yes he was extremely handsome, he was at least ten years older than you. You never really cared about that before so the only thing stopping you was your suddenly made up rule about not dating patients. You had never once been officially been asked out by a patient only tragically flirted with by every college kid that walked into building. The rule was bullshit and you knew it. What could one date hurt? He was charming and you didn't want to admit it.

"Okay, Mr. Miller you're all set. Just sign these for me and you're good to go." You slide him the discharge papers and wait patiently for him to sign them. He hands them back to you, a smug smile on his face.

"Thanks for everything." He says and you nod.

"Stay safe." You tell him and then turn on your heel back to the nurses station where you quickly file his paperwork and clock out. You grab your things and wave bye to your co workers as you head for the door.

"Hey," You look up from your pager and find Joel Miller waiting for you.

"Mr. Miller." You greet him, shoving your pager into your pocket. "Stalking me?"

"Joel. It's dark outside, figured I could walk you to your car." He says matching your pace which is always at a default fast pace, though it must be easier considering his legs are longer than yours.

"Sure you're not gonna kidnap me once we get there?" You ask with a huff.

"With my crippled hand against you? No chance, you'd take me out easily." He smiles.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" You look both ways before crossing the street into the parking lot, he still keeps up with you standing at your side.

"As a matter of fact I would." He says and you finally look at him as you reach your car. You cross your arms over your chest and stare at him for a moment before speaking.

"Fine." You pull your phone from your pocket and hand it to him to put his number in.

"Really?" He tries to hide his excitement but he fails as the smile spreads from cheek to cheek as he punches the numbers in on your phone.

"I'll call you tomorrow." You say when he hands your phone back.

"I'll be waitin." He pulls your door open and you get in as he smiles at you until he closes the door. "Stay safe."

You never would've have given him your phone if it were anyone else but there was something about Joel Miller that you knew you could trust. You knew he'd never try to physically harm you and you knew that he wasn't being weird with his action. The nerves of getting stitches brought out a flirty side of him that was amusing to watch.

He could pretend that the only reason he asked you out was because you were "the most stunning woman to ever walk the streets of Austin" but it realistically was the fact that you were caring (whether it was just your job or not), you were kind (even when he was relentlessly flirting with you) and it was easy to tell you didn't put up with anyone's bullshit.

The truth is, Joel Miller never would've flirted with you if you were anyone else. He hadn't even thought of another woman since Sarah entered the world. He had never gotten stitches before so the nerves were eating at him but you opened up to him and alleviated his nerves. You had a bright aura, one that resembled the sun on a winter day, the moment when it emerges from the clouds and everything is suddenly warmer. You made him feel eased despite the throbbing pain of the cut in his hand or the process of getting stitched up.

That night was simple to the start of your relationship. Despite the clouds that surrounded you that night, Joel brought out the sun.

tag list: @aphrcdites @rey26

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[genericpuff]

Hi! I came here from your "lore olympus biggest whiff" blog about the finale... I've never read LO but I was always interested in it. However, after reading a few paragraphs of that blog (I didn't read all of it because I didn't want to get too many spoilers), it doesn't seem worth it. Would you recommend it up to a certain chapter? If yes, until which chapter should I read?

Honestly, if you want to read LO, I absolutely highly recommend reading the whole thing, or at least trying to. Not just to give context to the things we're all talking about in these communities, but also because it's about to go behind the Daily Pass wall on August 29th and it'll become even more inconvenient to do so.

I'm personally still a huge sucker for the first season myself because it just has that magic that LO used to have that a lot of us fell in love with in the first place; it still has its flaws, it's definitely the worst of the "Persephone looks like a toddler" era, but the characters feel a lot more real and a lot of the best, most iconic panels from the series come from S1. The first half of S2 also isn't awful, though the art does start to get a bit rough around the edges. It wasn't until the last half of S2 that I personally started to go , "Wait, I don't think Rachel knows what she's doing." That said, I didn't become a full-blown critic of the series until the S2 finale, which is where I firmly believe the comic should have ended (that is, if Rachel had structured the story better to allow for the S2 finale to be the overall series finale).

But you should read as much of it as you can anyways. Even if you can't get through a certain part of the story and decide to DNF, that's fine, but I personally don't want to be the one deciding for folks what they should be reading or how much. I also definitely don't want people forming their opinion of a work like LO entirely through my criticisms of it - the best way for you to form your own opinion, regardless of whether or not it aligns with my own, is to simply read it yourself. I know where I started to lose interest in the series, but you might not feel the same way when you read it yourself. It's definitely happened in the past that people have gone to read LO to "see what all the fuss is about" only to wind up loving it haha and that's great, honestly, I don't want anyone to wind up missing out on something they might like just because of my own opinions about it :' )

Honestly it seems daunting but you can easily read all of LO between today and the 29th, a lot of the earlier S1 episodes are relatively short and the actual pacing of the comic itself throughout the second and third season makes for a very quick reading experience, text bubbles usually aren't too wordy so depending on how fast of a reader you are, you can usually blitz through each episode within 2-3 minutes (that said, I'm also a bit of a faster reader so your reading time may vary). Plus the episode count on the app is also thrown off by several episodes that are purely dedicated to Q&A's, hiatus notices, etc. So it's about a 12-18 hour reading experience give or take, which sounds like a lot, but if you're able to read several chunks of episodes at a time in bursts, it can be done by the time it goes behind DP on the 29th :' )

So yeah ! I do hope you read it for yourself if you're really curious, and if you do, feel free to come back again and tell me about your experience! Did you get through all of it or did you DNF? Did it put any of my own criticisms into better context for you or did you wind up enjoying the series regardless?

Best of luck!! <3

[everythingne]

marketing ploy ln4 - ch 6

Austria goes to shit. Great Britain follows.

piastri!oc x lando norris, bestfriends brother/fake dating

warnings/notes: inappropriate comments, lando being overprotective, arguments/cursing, mildly severe car accidents (guys its an f1 fic what we were expecting. gotta do the cliche for my first fic), vague descriptions of injury, a few sexual comments, this is SO LONG. like 5k-6k words?

prev | next

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01 JULY, AUSTRIA.

I woke up with a bad feeling in my chest and an odd headache. My lone hotel room, to give Oscar and Lily some space since she was finally able to tag along again this season, felt so enclosing. Slowly pulling myself out of bed, I groaned and immediately went to get ready when I noticed the time. Luckily, it was only qualifiers today, so I didn't have much to do other than hide in my office and make sure no one's car was going to explode.

But god, on my worst day, everything has to go wrong.

First, Max's tires never got warmed. Something was broken, and I had to do so much boring bullshit paperwork. Then, Checo's brakes got sticky and we had to have him DNF. Then for some reason, half the fucking sensors hadn't even recorded anything so I couldn't even tell why they had gotten sticky. But I did feel a bit better (not at all) knowing it had also happened to a few other drivers so it wasn’t just us.

So I was having the greatest time, sarcasm fully intended. And then I completely missed seeing Oscar and Lily for lunch because I was in an emergency meeting. And by the time I got out of Red Bull's garage, it was nearing five at night and I hadn't had anything to eat or anything to drink after one water bottle and my headache still had gotten worse because of it.

And then got immediately swamped by reporters.

Luckily, I saved some class and patience and was able to make it through fine but by the time I got to McLaren's garage, I was about ready to snap at someone.

"Ollie!"

Thank god.

"Oscar." I hum as he wraps an arm around my shoulder, and then he makes a face as he notices just how exhausted I am.

"You guys had it rough today." He says and I just nod, rubbing at my jaw and rolling my neck as he steps back, leans over, and hands me a packet of some sort of assorted chocolates.

"I love you so much." I sigh as I open the packet and he laughs, dragging me further into the garage where everyone else is settled and just relaxing. McLaren had a really good day, both Lando and Oscar in Q1 and I can see everyone laughing and celebrating. A completely different feel from the tense garage at Red Bull. Lily gives me a tight hug when she sees me and urges me to come sit with her so we can catch up, we end up in a bit further and in a corner so we can have a bit of privacy. All is fine, and Lily is very quickly improving my mood as we giggle and share stories (and I happily answer all her questions about Lando and me) before we're approached by a guy I don't recognize.

"You guys need water?" He asks innocently, and though it's not extremely hot in Austria, I take one from his hands. Lily denies it, showing off the water bottle she's still drinking, and the guy seemingly just blips out.

"Weird." I hum, cracking open the water bottle and taking a sip of the cool liquid, "Never seen him before. Maybe he's new?"

"Or a volunteer?" Lily suggests and I shrug in response, eventually, Oscar comes over and wraps an arm around Lily's waist and she grins, popping a kiss on his cheek. Finally, the two of them were actually looking like a couple in public. Which, is probably what happens when two introverts start dating. I swear they didn't hold hands for months.

"Lando's being interviewed if you wanna wait for him for the media shit." Oscar pokes my hand and I pretend to flick the water bottle at him. The two of us make faces for a few seconds before I nod, taking another sip of my water bottle.

"Yeah, he and I are going out to eat again tonight. Andrea's idea." I sigh, looking over my shoulder where I can see Lando sitting with some people with a microphone in hand. I notice though it's not Sky, but rather ESPN, and I hum before turning back to Oscar and Lily and wishing them on their way. I pull out my phone, answering a few texts before someone walks up beside me. And it's the same guy from earlier.

"Oh. Hi." I say softly as he smiles at me, looking a little flustered for a second before he starts talking.

"Just wanted to say hello, I'm one of the mid-season hires. I'm an engineering assistant, Jordan." He held out his hand and I grinned, shaking his hand firmly.

"Olivia Piastri, Oscar's younger sister. I'm Red Bull's head analyst." I let go of his hand and Jordan nods, he wrings his hands before he continues talking and I feel the confidence he's trying to exhume here.

"Ah, I've seen a bit about you. Kinda hard to miss such a pretty face." Jordan grins, running a hand through his hair and tilting his head with a tiny grin. 

Is he flirting with me? Is this guy daft?

"Well, thank you. But uhm--" I look around the garage, hoping to maybe signal another person in the garage to come over and get me out of this just terribly awkward situation. Lando's wrapping up his interview, handing back his microphone and laughing softly as he shakes hands with the reporters. 

"Seriously, you're by far one of the most gorgeous girls I've seen." Jordan steps a bit closer and leans on the wall beside me with his body covering my view of the majority of the garage, "are you free tonight? I'd like to get to know you better."

I step back, putting myself back into the view of the garage as I try to keep my patience and shake my head no. I'd never had this issue before, how exactly does one stop unwanted advances? I'd never had to, I was never alone when these sorts of things happened to me. 

So, I stammer, "Ah, I'm sorry, I have a boyfriend and.."

"Ay, is he here? Because I don't see anyone staking their claim on you." Jordan grins and I tighten my grip on the water bottle and click my tongue against my teeth. Okay, if he was gonna be like that I could be bitchy too. I glance back across the room one final time, making eye contact with Jon who gives me a sharp nod, but I don't see Lando anymore. Which... could be good or bad.

"He works for McLaren, and is a part of your team, so you might wanna... not... flirt with me?" I turn back to Jordan, make an uncomfortable grimace at him, and end up tightly crossing my arms over my uniform shirt, "So..."

"Yeah, who's your boyfriend then?" Jordan hums, looking over, "Jon?"

"Me," A hand slides across my waist, fingers digging into my skin harsh enough to likely leave bruises as I'm tugged back into Lando's chest. With one hand still firm on my waist, his other hand comes to my jaw so he can turn me to press a soft kiss to my lips before he leans back and whispers, "Hi, baby."

"Hi, Nori." I smile, turning back to Jordan who raises an eyebrow. And I can already tell this is going to be terrible because he hasn't exactly backed down. I see a reporter tilt their camera at us, and I grip Lando's wrist to tell him to back off. But Lando stays close, and my cheeks tint red as Jordan starts to speak.

"Got yourself a good-lookin' girl there, Lando." Jordan grins, winking at me and making my skin crawl. Lando's hands tighten on my waist, pulling me into him a bit more if that's even possible, and now I'm not even mad that he's doing this anymore. I wanted to be doing anything else than being here.

"Mhm. Olivia's my girl, don't you know? She's been my girlfriend for a while, so why dont'cha step back?" Lando smiles, but his threat is not hidden very well. 

"Ay, it's all good Lando, I don't like to share my meals."

"Oh-kay!" I shout but Lando takes over, stepping around me to point at Jordan and get in his face. I see half the McLaren garage turn, and someone shouts to send the media out of the garage as the cameras scramble to try and take photos and videos of the altercation.

"If you know what's good for you--" Lando grits, eyes narrowing as Jordan smirks in his face. His confidence was a far cry from the scrawny guy who had walked up to me prior, Lando continues through his teeth, "You won't say anything like that again or I'll make sure you can't speak anymore."

"Sorry, man. Didn't realize this would piss you off so much," Jordan takes a step back, his smile making it known his apology was fake, and my tight grip on Lando's wrist makes it so he won't follow.

"Bye, Jordan," I say, voice soft but level. A sort of period to the end of whatever conversation Lando and Jordan had silently through their eyes before Jordan backed off and slipped into the crowd of McLaren officers off to the side. I keep my iron grip on Lando's wrist and he slowly turns around to look at me. At this point, my exhaustion and anger from the whole day is bubbling just under my skin. Unlike my twin, I was never good at completely holding myself back when I got like this.

"Lando." My tone comes out much colder than I'm expecting, and I grab his wrist again and forcefully tug him to my side as I hiss, "What the fuck was that?!"

"Did you hear what he said?"

"Yes! But was that worth threatening him?"

"What did you want me to do?" He said and when I peeked over his shoulder and saw everyone watching, I grabbed Lando by the collar and pulled him into Andrea's vacant office, slamming the door shut and pointing at him.

"I had it handled, okay?" I snap, "He was just being a jackass, you didn't have to threaten to make him unable to speak--Lando! Who the fuck says that?!"

"Did you have it handled? That was you having it handled?" Lando asks, incredulously, sitting on the edge of Andrea's desk as I stay at the door, using my heel to keep it closed just in case someone tried to push it open at any point since I knew the door didn't lock.

"You don't need to protect me like that, Lando, it's not your job!"

"It's not, I'm your boyfriend--" And the rest of what Lando says fizzles out in my head. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. The word that had been taunting me for weeks. Lando Norris, my boyfriend for the media. The boy who could never be mine. And something in my chest breaks, I can feel the tether finally snap, and I shout.

"No, you are not!" My volume surprises me, and I know McLaren can probably hear us immediately after saying it, so I drop my voice down to a hard snapping tone, "You aren't my boyfriend, Lando. You aren't! You can't be, no matter how much I love you, or you love me, or if we fall in love after all of this is over--you are not my boyfriend and you will never be because we can't be in love, Lando!"

"We can't? Who said that?!" He snaps back, "Do you think I've been doing all of this for media? For a fucking paycheck? God, no Ollie. I fell in love with you the first time Oscar brought you around! Do you think I agreed with this for a check? No, I agreed to that stupid contract because it's you! If it was anyone else I would've just walked the fuck out of that office, it's you I want, only you, only you, Olivia."

"But you know you can't have me, so why string me along like this? We can't be together, no matter what we want, we're gonna have to break up at some point! So why should we even try?" 

"Who cares what they say? Zak, Andrea, Christian? You're gonna let them run your life?" Lando steps closer to me, taking my jaw into his gentle hold, voice so soft I feel my heart drum against my lungs, "We do what they say, sure, but once we've completed that contractual obligation... can they tell us we can't ever be this again? Be... us, again?"

"I can't do this Lando," I whisper, bringing my hands to my chest and he steps back. The space between us suddenly felt so vast, and something in me clicked and I knew something irreversible was going to be said. That maybe I had started the downfall here, and Lando's hurt expression tells me I have.

He can only whisper, "Why?"

"I just..." I stammer, making a vague gesture to the room. There's no way for me to express the thousands of thoughts that race through my head, a constant loop of some F1 circuit of emotional mess slamming into every reasonable thought and fizzling out reason.

"Because you're scared of being loved? You're scared of what will happen if you fall in love?" Lando accuses and I can't answer those questions, because I am. I'm so scared. But not because of Lando. Because of media. So I shout the next best option.

"I never wanted the attention! I didn't become a driver because I can't handle the media like you all can! And yet I end up here, and--" I go to keep talking and Lando holds up a hand, shouting over me,

"Okay, then back out! You clearly want nothing to do with me, or this, or everything that's happening, so go tell Christian you're done!"

Silence. I swallow thickly because no. I don't want to be done. I want to fight tooth and nail for everything in this relationship, but also, was this what was best? Should I back out now, before everything we've done catches up to us? A hubris that needs to be checked? I knew from the beginning I was going to burn, but not like this. Never did I think it would be like this. 

"Olivia..." Lando whispers, and I feel something roll down my cheeks. I'm crying I realize. The world is blurry, my throat is dry, and I'm crying over a relationship I can now see we both want but... at least to me, we can never have.

Do I ask Christian..?

"No, Lando." I sigh, doting under my teary eyes, "This is why. This is why. We will end up here one day, and I can't do that. I... I'll talk to you later."

"Ollie, wait!"

I turn, leaving the office in a hurry. I shove through the McLaren workers who try to stop me and once I'm in the clear, I run. The Red Bull paddock isn't far and once I get there I can't breathe, shoving through people who now wear the same uniform as me. My office doesn't even feel safe, the flowers on my desk mocking me, and I grab them and in a fit of rage, I throw them across the room. It doesn't make the pain in my chest leave.

“Olivia!” Someone shouts and I turn, Christian just barely in the doorway. I shout, without thinking, without even pausing.

“I’m backing out! I’m done with that media stunt—!” And a hiccup breaks my sentence, “Get me out of it!”

“I—“

“—Now, Christian!”

The garage is silent after my scream, and poor Christian looks horrified as he nods, and shuts the door to my office. I let a shaky breath out as I realize what I’ve done is irreversible, but there’s so much pain in my whole heart I can’t tell if that’s what’s hurting me. I sink to my knees on the floor, a hand on my chest, a hand on the carpet, and I sob.

I don’t even know why I’m crying.

An arm is around my shoulder, a set of hands resting on my elbows as someone whispers to me. I don't even know who the people are when I look up, and the sight of both Max and Checo kneeling in front of me makes the tears double. At some point, Checo leaves, once I've calmed enough for Max to convince me to lay down with his jacket covering my legs as I hiccupped and slowed down my breathing with Max's hand applying solid pressure to my chest.

Charles and Daniel come back with Checo, who then leaves the room entirely, and I end up with my weird little mixed driver support group on the floor in my office.

Something so odd, something that should not be happening in any way, but yet here we are.

Somehow, one relationship shattering had made the other relationships in my life more clear. Relationships that had started casually and professionally, and ended up with me now having twenty or so brothers at this point. 

Brothers.

Just like Oscar.

-

Max drops me at Oscar's hotel room a few hours later when he returns from his date with Lily. She ends up going off on her own, with a few of the other WAGs, to give Oscar and me privacy. I settle on the couch, sipping a water bottle as Oscar looks out the window. I hadn't told anyone else what Lando and I had argued about, Max had kinda picked up on it as had Charles, but they had given me a berth. A space to explain. When I didn't take the invitation, they didn't try and pull me in to say anything. Which I appreciated beyond words.

"What happened?" Comes the soft voice of my twin. I knew Oscar wouldn't have been like them though. 

“I backed out,” I say, rubbing a hand along the fabric beneath me.

"What?" Oscar turns to face me, "You backed out?"

"Of the shit with Lando, I can't do it anymore. I can't have my emotions being toyed with like this anymore. And we both like each other but one day they're gonna come along and tell us we need to break up and we have to listen to them." I find a stray string in the couch stitching and begin picking it. My nails dig into them, making a slightly bigger hole. It feels like the way I'd ripped a hole into my own heart earlier.

"I had a feeling this was gonna happen." Oscar walks across the room to sit on the arm of the couch, looking over at me, "what happened?"

"I just had a shit day, and... and when this guy at McLaren started flirting excessively with me he got super overprotective and threatened the guy. Which... isn't the worst but he could've handled it better." I wave my hands, "But I had such a shit day I just blew up at him over it, and we fought, and he told me to back out if I couldn't handle it... and when I got back to Red Bull I just did it. I didn't even think and now I think I made a huge fuckin' mistake but I can't go back on it now."

"Could you talk to Christian? Ask him to wait?" Oscar hums, his hand coming up to card through my hair again and I melt into his touch as per usual.

"I dunno." I murmured, closing my eyes, "I just wanna sleep the rest of the day off."

"We can talk about it tomorrow after the race, okay?" He says, looking down at me before turning to look at his phone as it buzzes on the table. I look up at him and see his jaw tense, hand pausing on my head as he makes a face.

"Oh, Christ." He whispers, turning his phone to me. I climb up to sit next to him, eyes widening as I look over the post he shares and my stomach falls to my chest.

"This is not what Christian told me would happen," I whisper, Oscar's hand squeezing my upper arm in some sort of semblance of support. Of course, getting out of this mess with Lando wouldn't be easy.

Now I needed to talk to Christian. As soon as possible.

01 JULY, TWITTER ↴

written by Julia Sine, 01 July, 2024.

Cars aren't the only thing racing down the track in Austria this weekend, so are some hearts! In an exclusive interview after the qualifier today, multiple McLaren and Red Bull workers spoke with reporter Julia Sine about what might become the next 'it couple' after Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift.

"Lando and I first spoke about it in Bahrain. He said the two of them have been close since Oscar's rookie season last year and he was worried Olivia's job would be at stake if their relationship ever leaked to the public," Steve Atkins, McLaren's Head of Communications explained while standing in the paddock with Chief Executive Officer Zak Brown and Team Principal Andrea Stella, "I went and spoke with Christian Horner, the Team Principal of [Oracle Red Bull Racing] and we agreed that since they were on separate teams, and Olivia was an analyst and not an engineer, there was no conflict of interest. Olivia did sign an NDA, just to make sure she wasn't leaking race information to Lando but it was never brought to our attention if Olivia and Lando ended up dating."

"If the two of them are dating, which again I've had nothing clarified to me if they are or aren't, I'd imagine they've been keeping it private due to concerns with the media and fans." 

"Olivia and Lando have a very unique connection, and we here at McLaren are all supportive of relations between teams. All our drivers are friends at the end of the day and we support [Lando and Oscar] being friends with any of the drivers outside of racing. However, I will say we have seen some tensions growing between our drivers and Red Bull." Andrea spoke with me and Zak right before leaving for a meeting, Zak agreed with Andrea, and he further stated, "A lot of the tension we've been seeing with Max and Lando on the track stems from this, in my opinion."

When I made my way to Red Bull to ask some more questions about the situation, I was only able to briefly speak with Alice McLoughlin, Red Bull's Head of Communications who said, "The relationships our staff members get into is not any of our business as long as it's not a conflict of interest or damaging to the staff member themselves. I have not been told if there is for certain a relationship, but if there is I wish both of them well but we will be waiting for their announcement before we decide anything.

read more online at popsugar.uk!

--

04 JULY, 2024 - MILTON KEYNES, UK.

My phone ringing breaks the three hour silence I've subjected myself to after my meeting with Christian and Ada. The meeting where I had said me wanting to back out of the contract was emotionally charged and said I no longer wanted to. Luckily, they hadn't started the process of backing me out of the contract yet, so it was pretty easy for me to stay.

Reaching over, I grab my phone and read the contact, pausing before lifting it to my ear, "Lando..?"

"Ollie, hey... uhm, how are you?" He sounds uncertain, almost like he wasn't sure if I was going to pick up. I can't blame him for thinking that, since our last conversation was that big fight.

"Tired." I admit, but don't say it's because I've lost sleep thinking I was going to lose him, "I'm working late again tonight."

"Oh, sorry... do you want me to call you later?" I hear what sounds like a gear shifting, and I briefly wonder if he's on his sim.

"No, I'm just uploading files. And your voice is honestly more welcome than the silence of a nearly empty Red Bull garage... why'd you call?" I turn to look out the windows at the slowly setting sun, watching as the world is beginning to be coated gold.

"I wanted to apologize for the whole thing with Jordan, I shouldn't have threatened him like that." Lando's words come out rushed and squishy, like he's holding out his heart and expecting me to step on it.

I like to imagine gently covering his heart, protecting it, as I speak softly, "No, no you're fine. I was having a shitty day and I took it out on you. I really should be the one apologizing, you didn't do anything wrong. You were protecting me. Thank you for that."

"Yeah, it's fine. I'd do it a thousand times." He says, then theres a long pause. It's not akward, if anything it allows me to feel the emotions roll through me-- embarrassment at my past behavior, nervousness for his call, and a sick sort of love building in my gut that I, for once, did not push away.

Finally, Lando whispers, "did you back out?"

"I was going to, but... I talked to Christian this morning when I was a bit more level headed and we agreed I'm gonna stay." I say, and I hear him sigh with relief. A small smile bubbles across my lips, letting the giddy feeling fill my body as I tap my toes along the floor and spin my chair.

"Can you come outside?" Lando's question catches me off guard.

"What?"

"Look out your window." He says, and I scramble up from my desk and walk to the big glass panes that cover my office, looking down into the mostly vacant parking lot and there he is.

"You are something else." I whisper, then look back at my computer. I could finish the work tomorrow, "I'll be down in ten."

I scramble to save my work, kicking off my work shoes for the actual nice YSL heels I'd worn in. Once they're secure on my feet, I touch up my makeup and spritz myself with perfume. The whole time I'm giggling to myself, smiling as I pack up my desk and then throw my belongings into my purse and find myself half running to the elevator. I hurry to text Oscar that I'll be back a bit later than expected as the floors ping, and when I hit the ground floor, I throw my phone in my bag without a care, clock out and scan out, and open the door to the cool night breeze rippling across my blushing, hot skin.

God, it was so good to let myself feel this raw emotions again.

Lando pushes himself off his car, hands still in his pockets, and I bee line to him. Luckily, he kinda gets the hint of what I'm asking, and his hands come to rest on my waist when I reach him.

I pause to put my purse on the hood of his car, and then grab his collar and pull his lips to mine.

He laughs into the kiss, our teeth briefly smashing before I right us and press in deep. His arms wrap around my waist and he tugs me closer, one hand sliding up the side of the dress shirt I wear before tangling its fingers in the hair at the base of my neck. When we pull back, briefly, I giggle as he peppers kisses to my hairline before pulling me back in.

"Fuck, I missed you." He whispers against my lips and I step back, just enough to see him--and he looks exhausted. My hands come to his face and he melts into my touch, almost like he's craving it.

"I missed you too." I murmur back, watching the way he holds his eyes shut. I can see the layers of stress physically peeling away from him and being swept away by the hand I raise to run through his curls and the other hand I slide down to apply that comforting firm pressure to the chest--right under his collarbones, and then his head falls to the crook of my neck. One innocent little peck placed on my collarbone that has me shiver.

We stand like that for a while. Two silent beings in the windy, cold, English night, and eventually I convince Lando to sit in his car when my thinly covered legs start to get cold. We end up just... driving. A silence enveloping us as I rest my head on his shoulder and he keeps that damn hand on my thigh. It's gonna be the death of me. He is going to be the death of me.

But, loving Lando Norris is a death I would welcome with open arms.

04 JULY -- INSTAGRAM ↴

OLIVIAPIASTRI MADE A NEW POST!

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxverstappen, and 145k others...

oliviapiastri: my pretty boy <3

landonorris: this mystery guy needs a haircut hes stealing my look >:(

⤷ oliviapiastri: you'll get over it

maxverstappen: i want u to know kelly shouted 'THANK GOD' when i showed her this post

oscarpiastri: OH SO THIS IS WHY YOU MISSED OUR FUCKING MOVIE NIGHT??

⤷ oscarpiastri: ANSWER ME HELLO?

⤷ oliviapiastri: BRO HOLD ON I AM DOING SOMEONE

⤷ opheliapiastri: OLIVIA????

⤷ oscarpiastri: HOLD THEFUCKON??? OLIVIA LOUISE RAY PIASTRI.

⤷ oaklynnpiastri: moment of silence for our mystery guy. oscar is approaching his location at rapid speeds.

⤷ landonorris: rip

⤷ oscarpiastri: shut.

⤷ oliviapiastri: @ oscarpiastri I MEANT SOMETYHIN. I MEANT TOT TYPE SOMETHING. DO NOT SHOW UP TO HIS HOUSE.

christianhorner: geri said 'good that little fucker didn't break her heart' and slammed the steak knife back into the knife holder.

⤷ oliviapiastri: OH MY GOD?? THANK U MOM?? @ gerihalliwell

⤷ gerihalliwell: of course :)! girls stick together!

09 JULY -- GREAT BRITAIN.

"Max, make sure you're giving space here. These turns can get tricky." I hear someone say in the radios, my hands fidgeting with my keychains as I watch the race on the screens, and then glance over to the sensors. All was running well, back tires a bit hot, but nothing we were concerned about.

"Ollie, tell your brothers best friend to get out of the way." Max frustratedly huffs and I laugh, leaning forward to speak into the comms.

"Logan is in P9, actually, not P1." I chime, luckily getting a soft chuckle from Max. We'd been doing exceptionally well this season as per usual, even if I had sort of stopped paying attention a bit. I did note the tensions between him and Lando were really high during this race. The two had been neck and neck since the beginning, and everytime they got a one-up on the other it just made them push harder. They had a pretty good gap between them and the rest of the racers, with Oscar holding his own in P3. It seemed like another weekend with those three on top, but at least watching this race was interesting.

The breaking sensors start flashing, indicating they're running too hot, so I chime, "Max, ease up on breaking. We might want to look into getting your tires swapped for mediums soon."

Max doesn't respond, but he does ease up on the breaking. Which makes me feel a bit better.

"Lando's coming in hot to the pit." Someone says, and I glance up over the computers and my eyebrows knit. He's driving weird. Like... almost as if he doesn't have control of steering. I see the safety car prepare for a possible departure and I stand, looking down at Max's sensors, and then someone shouting brings my attention back up.

"He can't stop!"

There was a moment where it felt like everything froze. My hands couldn’t find my mouth fast enough to hide my shock. Lando’s car slams probably two hundred kilometers into the barrier that leads into the pit lane and skids along the wall all the way inside the lane until it spins and slams into another one of the barriers. Red Bulls paddock is first in the pit this round, and I can see the smoke beginning to billow around Lando's car immediately once the car fully stops. People are shouting, McLaren engineers sort of straggling by the exit to the track as a yellow is waved, waiting for a command. I see Jon amongst them, shouting into his headset, and I hate the silence lets me hear his voice strain as he hollers,

"Lando! Lando, are you alright?"

I can't hear a response from the McLaren driver even if I strain my ears.

“Lando—come on.” I find myself saying, hearing Max and Checo on the radio asking for clarification of what happened, but also hearing someone say it was clear for people to go and get Lando out of a burning car. My headphones are yanked off my head and Christian’s hand firmly pushes me forward.

“Go.” Is all he has to say.

I’m running faster than I can carry myself, stumbling over numb legs as I sprint to the car. My hands scrape the concrete as I nearly fall, but I save myself the embarrassment of wiping out with a quick stumble and keep running. I can hear more people behind me as I climb up, holding onto the halo to stabilize myself.

“Lando!” I shout as I grab Lando’s helmet and slowly slide his head back as I start to detach him from his seat belts. Jon is there immediately, helping my shaky hands undo the devices. I keep looking at Lando's visor, trying to catch his eyes, but there’s no time to waste as I smell and hear the various engineers who'd run out trying to extinguish the car. I get one side of the belt off, starting to detach the hands device from the helmet by Jon's command when two hands grab my wrist.

Snapping my gaze up, I meet Lando’s eyes from where I’m sitting, one leg wrapped around the halo so I don’t fall, one hand on his neck as I hold the clasp to the hands device, the other on the back of the car as his eyes meet mine.

I’ve never seen Lando look so…terrified. His bright eyes are staring me down, pupils small and shaking as his grip tightens on me. I know my own eyes can’t look much different.

“Ollie?” He whispers and I shush him, detaching him from the car fully as I grab him by the shoulders.

“I got you, Nori. Jon and I got you.” I say softly, looking up to where other drivers are stopped on the track—standing up in their cars to get a better view, “get up so everyone knows you’re okay.”

Lando’s hands grab my shoulders, my hands sliding to his ribs as I slowly help him to his feet with Jon on standby. Medical and McLaren officials swarm around us, hands out and ready to help as I slowly unlatch my leg and slide off the side of the car. Lando’s weight on me is nearly crushing, but once we get him out he collapses even further into my arms in a cry of agony. Two hands find my back, medics reaching to grab Lando and I almost fight them in retaliation.

“Ollie!” someone shouts and I turn to see Jon running along to the medics side. I feel stuck, trying to swallow something that makes my eyes burn. Lando’s still got a vice grip on my wrist and when the medics try to separate us—it only tightens.

“Mr. Norris—“ The woman tries.

“Lando.” I finally find the courage to move forward, they’ve got him on a gurney now, trying to lay him back but he keeps fighting them. I can’t begin to understand why, “you’re okay. Let them take care of you.”

They tilt his visor up, and I gently lay him back, Jon reciting medical information over my head as they begin to assess his damage, still pulling us further away from the car which I note is now long extinguished. They stop us at McLaren's paddocks, Jon dipping inside to grab Lando's things as we wait for an ambulance to meet us here.

“Olivia.” I hear Lando’s muffled voice and I feel tears fill my eyes as I lean down, pressing my forehead to where his visor now lays and let out a shuttering sigh that makes my body ache just as much as my heart.

“You’ll be okay, Lando. But you have to let them help you.” I speak in a strained voice, feeling one of his hands come to wrap around my waist. I find his other hand and squeeze it, before that hand comes to rest under his helmet, “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“I don’t wanna go without you.” he whispers, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces at his soft plea for me to stay. But I know its useless.

"I'm so sorry, baby." The words feel forced out of my mouth with how much effort it takes it whisper them, "You gotta go. And I have to stay."

"Ollie, please..." He whispers, and I press a kiss to the spot on his helmet where his lips would be, then take his gloved hand on my waist and lift it to my lips and kiss his hidden knuckles. The barrier feels unfair, but I'm doing what I can.

"As soon as I can be, I will be by your side." I say as Jon reappears, the ambulance coming up screaming besides us.

"You promise?" Lando says under the sirens and the shouting and I nod.

"I swear on my life."

That's what ends up being enough, because Lando finally lets go of me after one more final kiss to the 'mouth' of his helmet. The medics and EMTs swarm us, carefully moving Lando who groans and gasps in pain. I can't imagine what injuries he might have as they slowly and carefully load him into the back of the ambulance. Jon speaks with Lando all the while, and right before the doors slam he turns to me and shouts,

"I've got him, Olivia!"

And all I can do is nod, blinking back tears as the doors shut. The second they're pulling away I find myself crying, full body shaking that wrecks me, and I manage to be pulled into the sanctuary of the Red Bull garage by Kylie and a few other employees before it can really be taken advantage of for media points.

But I know I'll keep on my promise. Especially when Christian tells me to just do one thing.

"Go."

taglist (thank you!)

@harrysdimple05 @charli123456789 @fangirl125reader @dark-night-sky-99 @starmanv @ophcelia @buendiabebeta

[james-silent-hill]

PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND SUMMARY:

Make sure to read Part 1 and 2 first !

Part 1

Part 2

Enjoy part 3!

At some point after making sure James was alright with everything that happened you got up from the couch, fixed whatever clothing you could fix, grabbed the pair of those half leather boots and left to lay down in that dusty bed with no pillow but a somewhat okay looking blanket.

But sleep doesn't come, you miss the feeling of his hand around your throat already, the thick and heavy feeling of having him inside of you. All you got as a little reminder is the drenched underwear.

The blanket smells old and everything about this room reminds you of home. You hate it. You don't want to sleep, you can't, you need to...

You need to get out of this place. This Apartment. This fucking town. You want to go home, wrap yourself up in a fluffy blanket with your bottle of Red wine and a new season of your favorite show.

You also really need a drink by now, how long has it been? You lost track of time in this place. There has to be a bar around here somewhere right? But these things are outside!

You don't want to ask James for help, you can manage.

Before you even get to the door of the apartment you get caught.

"Where are you going?" James looks up at you, sitting at the small kitchen table. Holding an envelope.

"Going for a walk?" You shrug as your hand moves to twist the door handle.

"You can't go out there by yourself." He gets up and suddenly you feel stuffy. The whole point of getting fucked like that is to NOT have any man care about you, worry about your safety. You don't like this whole 'you're a weak Lady and I must protect you' act of his.

"Don't act like you care, okay? It's fine, really, it's been fun and all but I gotta go" You open the door and when his arm shoves it shut again you really get angry.

"Did the fidgeting start? A tingle in your fingertips? Do you struggle to sleep because of that pounding heart and pool of anxiety in your stomach? Eyes feeling dry yet and that unbearable feeling of something awful happening around you? Huh? How bad is it? Like an hour away from panic attacks, stomach aches and cold sweats?".

"What?" You huff at him.

"You're an alcoholic. That's where you are trying to sneak off to. A bar." He looks away when he sees the shadow of the bruise that's going to form on your neck. The exact shape of his fingers.

"First of all... I'm an adult, I can do whatever I want. Second.. we are trapped in a fucking foggy Monster invested nightmare, so yes, James, I will go have a drink." You avoid his accusation of being an alcoholic.

You practically flee the Apartment once you manage to get to the door again, the air outside bites you everywhere where your skin is exposed, which are quite a lot of places.

You remember you walked by some neon sign not so long ago. It's gotta have a stash of liquor somewhere.

_______

Heavens Night

When James finally catches up to you he's even a bit out of breath, someone actually sprinted a little. He sees the glass of amber colored liquor in your hand, he's glad he made it in time. "Don't drink that, okay? Look i'm sorry, I know It's not my damn business i can just relate a lot and believe me.. the drinking never changes anything" James walks closer to the bar and towards you, only noticing now that you two are in a strip club.

Weird.

"That...is so sweet of you" You smile wide at him, leaning a bit closer. "But this is my third" You wiggle the glass with a soft smirk before you take another long sip from it.

James stares at you in defeat, he's insanely close to having one himself. This day has been something alright. But he should stick to his own words, it's a failed attempt to escape that loneliness but in the end the drinking never changes a damn thing.

"If you're doing this because of what happened earlier-" His eyes make you want to punch him in the throat.

That lost puppy look. Here goes a speech about how he didn't really want to do it that rough but he felt like you wanted it and he only wanted to meet your needs and not his own selfish ones.

A speech about how he isn't actually like that. He's a good guy. A nice guy. Blah..blaah.

"I needed it."

"I mean it was exactly what I needed. So if this is what you really need right now? I won't stop you" he keeps his hands almost flat on the bar.

"Just don't try to persuade me, I'm done with alcohol. For good." He points out.

"I won't." You feel stunned. He didn't excuse anything he didn't apologize to you. He didn't say he felt guilty about it or regretted it. He just needed it.

It's as simple as that.

"I really can't figure you out, are you sure you're real?" You ask but there is a worry that this is all somehow just in your head.

"I've been asking myself the same thing since I got here" James takes a deep breath, looking around the club. He can't believe he had sex with someone else, while looking for Mary as hard as he is, he also didn't know he had it in him to be this...rough with someone. It's almost as if it's always been there, somewhere deep inside of him, this ability to be violent or something.

Takes some to beat a monster's head in and then stomp their bodies to make sure they won't get up again.

"What's her name again?" You ask.

"Mary." James puts his face on one of his hands, he's tired but there will be no sleep in a place like this, he's sure of it.

"Mary.. and she passed three years ago but you are still looking for her? Here?" You wonder. He's either insane or just ruined by grief.

"I know how this sounds, i'm not crazy you know, I just..want some answers" He smirks a bit before almost robotically wiping it off his face again....

Hm.

"Hey it's okay if you were, you know? I am THE last person to judge anyone else’s crazy" You huff. Taking another sip of your drink before you set the glass down again.

His eyes seem relaxed and comfortable for once, even if it won't last long you are relieved to experience this look on his face. Neither of you feels weird or judged anymore, a silent understanding goes a long way. The fact that he didn't make any excuses or tried to reason as to why he fucked you like that? PERFECT. It's such a great feeling not having to listen to a man whine about why he did the things he did and why he couldn't help himself.

"My crazy is also a lot so, looking for a dead wife doesn't seem too insane" You pour some more of the booze into your glass before you walk around the bar, taking a seat next to him. Revealing a new pantyhose. You got a new pair of underwear too. This time something a bit more durable than a slip, still having no idea as to what your clothes are supposed to mean here.

"It's also a very understandable one." James looks at your thighs and knees when you sit down. "How did you?.." his throat gets audibly dry. This new one has a certain webbing that just draws him in. It's beautiful.

"Oh! Well, benefits of a strip Club right?" You look around. "Found a suitcase of fresh stuff" You could have worn a pair of mens briefs and sweatpants yet you stuck to this look somehow.

The not so survivalist attire.

"Right." James snaps himself out of it.

"Let's get out of here" He stands up nodding towards the door but...

You have other plans.

"Let's stay here, come on! It's a lot nicer than those creepy Apartments. Besides, There's a lot to drink here and not just booze. I think I even saw some snacks, the booths are comfy and..." You smirk wide when you lean halfway over the bar.

You push a button under the counter and the lights change and some slow and sensual strip music starts playing.

But while you are excited James holds a rather firm expression, he doesn't seem convinced.

"I really don't think that this is the place to be" He really doesn't allow himself any kind of fun.

"I'll behave this time?" You tilt your head to meet his gaze.

And there it is again, this almost wholesome chuckle of his. Whatever brings him here, in your book he's not a bad person. He seems almost sweet.

"Fine, okay, you're right. This place does look a bit nicer than those Apartments. I'll give you that." His eyes follow the lights before he picks himself a booth, testing the seat for himself and it might not be as good as a real bed or couch but it still is pretty comfortable. Less moldy and creepy.

You just watch, you take in almost everything he's always doing. There is just this strange fascination about him, how he manages to appear cold and a bit gloomy only to chuckle at your jokes the next second. It really is as if you have to defrost him first and underneath the ice is a beautiful cozy heart.

"Snack?" You shrug, walking behind the bar again and watching him nod from the booth. His hands are flat on the wooden table, you notice he does that a lot, maybe it's something to ground himself? Feel the surface of things that are right in front of him? It sounds like a good way not to totally lose it in this place.

You grab whatever is edible and not expired from behind the bar, you also take your glass and bottle of whisky with you. Turning the music and sexy lights off again before you walk towards the booth he picked out.

"So I have an arrangement of nut mixes, granola bars and small packages of dry cereals." You pour yourself another drink before taking one of the granola bars.

James reaches for the cereals.

"I actually don't even remember the last time I ate something" He frowns and you know exactly what he's talking about. It's almost as if Hunger for Food doesn't really exist in this place. But even if you two aren't that hungry, a little snack for the nerves never harmed anybody, right?

"Yeah, it's weird" You bite into the granola bar, chewing slowly, it doesn't taste like much but at least it doesn't taste awful.

James has the same unfazed expression when he shoves a handful of cereals into his mouth.

"Definitely had better" He mumbles.

_______

After trying a few snacks and discovering none of them hold much flavor you and James give it up, eating things that don't have any taste when you're not exactly hungry isn't easy.

You end up a few drinks deep, talking, sharing some stories with each other.

"Oh no! What did you do then?" You ask, pulled into James Story of cleaning out his elderly neighbors basement for him.

"I wish I could say I was being a brave man about it but..." He shrugs a bit. "Something like a squeal escaped me and I ran. I mean, that thing was HUGE okay? The kind of Spider that could easily eat you whole" He laughs a bit.

It's really nice to see him like that, sharing a wholesome and funny Story.

You share a Story about your first time seeing a snake in the woods when you were a Teenager. It's Equal to his, the squeal and the running away.

You both laugh for a good Minute especially since you recreated your Teenager self's high pitched squeal which seemed to seriously crack him up.

"Those were some great stories, really" You sigh softly, taking another sip of your whisky.

"Yeah it's been...good, to think and talk about something else for once. Thank you, for, you know? Making me laugh" He doesn't want to sound too serious but you can guess how he means it. Probably not a lot to laugh at when someone that close to you passed away. You're happy you could get him to smile and laugh again, even if it was just for a little while.

"Wanna catch some sleep?" He asks, looking around this place once more.

"Yeah! I think I saw some blankets in the back, don't worry, I'll make sure they are the clean ones" You huff before getting out of the booth. The first few steps feel a bit wobbly and your hand needs to hold onto the table for support. Giving him a thumbs up before he can ask if you're okay, you can hold your liquor. You just didn't realize how much it was and how long you sat there with him.

It feels like hours went by..

It's so easy to talk to him, that defrosted Version of him is pretty adorable. He's shy and he doesn't like to brag about things, he doesn't even notice how handsome and really insanely hot he looks half the time.

"Don't uh, don't leave this here okay? Take it with you." James hands you the bottle of whisky. There isn't a whole lot left in it to begin with but you admire his strength and self control.

"Right! Fuck.. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shove it in your face" You clutch the bottle tightly.

"It's okay." He leans back in the booth when you walk towards the back. You are trying to gather clean sheets and blankets. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the dusty mirror. You're a mess. Tacky clothes, some smeared mascara, hair in all directions. Maybe you should freshen just a bit. Give that man his jacket back too.

You fix what you can in the mirror with some tissues and comb your hair a few times. You switch his jacket for a Black Bomber jacket you found in the lockers. Probably the security man's jacket judging by the print on the back.

You walk out into the open area again, giving James his jacket and a clean blanket.

But the drinks make you wobble a bit again.

Taking a seat next to him before you stumble around or anything. "You really are pretty, you know that?" You sigh while he's so up close.

"You had a few drinks, come on, I'll tug you in" He makes a move to get you to stand up again but you slump into his side.

"You made me feel so good James, I miss your strong hand around my throat already" You trace the slow forming bruises with your fingers. Looking at him with big eyes.

"I'm not going to pretend it didn't happen, but this isn't the time or place for a recap." James tries to get himself out of the booth. He can't do it again, he hates himself enough for the first time even if he really did need it. But he can't touch you again, he's looking for Mary. He loves her. Only her.

She's the only thing that matters.

"I know! I know..and I'm sorry, I know I'm nothing but a drunk slut right now but I..- I made you feel good too didn't I? Let me make you feel good again, please" You softly tug on his arm.

He sits back down and you take it as a signal.

Your hand strokes over his thigh, leaning in closer.

"You said you'll behave..." his tone is so icey again, so cold. Distant. Almost annoyed.

"Puh...did I? Would it be so terrible if I didn't?" You tried to tease a bit but something in him went back to stone. He doesn't seem up for a round two which is...sad, but fair, you understand.

"No, but I can't." His thin lipped nod is all you need to know to slowly bring some distance between the two of you again.

"Besides that, you're drunk" He frowns when he moves himself onto the other booth. He can't do this again and he certainly won't touch you when you're drunk. He shouldn't have touched you in the first place but this part of him that really needed was simply stronger than any voice of reason in his head.

"Rest, we both need it." James takes one of the blankets and lays down. Covering himself almost to his ears. It does look comfortable in a way, so you lay down to try it out, pulling the security jacket and the other blanket over yourself as well. The booths really are comfortable.

You nod off into an uneasy and light sleep fast.

James however doesn't find a single moment of rest, whenever he closes his eyes he can see her, Mary, struggling to sit up to take a sip of water but still noticing the way Nurse Ashley puts her hand onto James arm. Ruthless little whore, flirting with her husband right in front of her like that, like she can't die fast enough or something.

'Hey let me help you-' James tries to put another pillow behind her back and hold her water but Mary angrily shoves him away. Spilling the water cup everywhere.

'GO! Go on and fuck that nurse James, don't pretend anymore, don't.. - don't pretend you still look at me that way. The way you look at her' Mary sobs.

'Mary? What are you talking about? There is no look, I don't look at her, okay? I'm looking at you, always, you know i do' James tries but she wouldn't have it. Wouldn't listen. She would yell at him but she's too weak for that.

James jolts up from the booth, holding his face with both hands. He can't sleep. He can't keep wasting time like that.

He needs to move on, he needs to find her.

His eyes trace your sleeping frame, carefully putting his blanket over you.

Collecting his things.

"I'm sorry" He sighs softly and quietly.

He doesn't want to leave you behind like that, but he needs to do what he came here for. He makes sure the place is safe and that the doors are secure before he leaves.

Darkness and fog don't mix very well, before he even knows it he's lost in some kind of hospital.

No way back now...right?

______

Hey thank you for reading!

Consider giving this some love over on Archive of our own?

Here

[delta-queerdrant]

where are your troubles now? forgotten? (Resistance, s2 e12)

(POV you’re watching the Barbie intro but it’s Star Trek screenwriters. Please indulge me.)

Once, in another century, there was a show called Star Trek Voyager. (Cue 2001: A Space Odyssey music.) A lady and two dudes created it. Occasionally other ladies cowrote episodes. But by the time Season Two rolled around, there were not so many ladies. Actually there was just Jeri Taylor, and by god she tried. But one lady cannot be all things to all people.

Then in November 1995, a great miracle happened. A new lady was hired to write a teleplay. It was fresh, inventive! Something was happening!

Her name was (music crescendos)

L I S A K L I N K

I don’t know much about Lisa Klink, except that “Resistance” marks the beginning of her multi-season involvement in Voyager, and that she was a five-time Jeopardy winner. (I do not watch Jeopardy, I would not be good at Jeopardy, but Jeopardy people are nevertheless my people.) Mostly I know that I turned on “Resistance” and, despite my general disinterest in the show’s production history, immediately asked: who the FUCK wrote this?

“Resistance” is not a perfect episode, but after half a season of flailing, it is a revelation. Klink, writing the script for a story by Michael Jan Friedman and Kevin J. Ryan, has a clear vision of what Voyager can be - a show that’s grounded, emotionally resonant, and trusts its actors. 

I am partial to the gritty, Blade Runner-inflected, Firefly/BSG brand of science fiction television, so when we started in media res, our heroes in civvies doing deals in an outdoor market, I died and went to cyberpunk heaven. (Neelix’s coat alone is worth the price of entry.) Instead of swanning across the galaxy like tourists in a slightly under-resourced cruise ship, the Voyager gang are finally the scrappy underdogs they ought to be.

This is our second Janeway episode of the season, and the first episode, perhaps of the series, that really gives her a character mandate beyond “strong but feminine captain who loves her dog.” Mulgrew has her work cut out for her, acting against JOEL FUCKING GREY, but they’re both marvelous. Waking in the home of the enigmatically batty Caylem (in a claustrophobic sequence whose stagey absurdism recalls a Beckett play), Janeway slowly grows to understand that Caylem, who’s decided she’s his daughter, might be her best ally for escape. The growing emotional connection between the two is so tender and understated; as a writer, Klink has mastered the light touch.

Janeway and Caylem end up collaborating with the local resistance movement to rescue Torres and Tuvok, who have been imprisoned by the lawful evil overlords of this world. Our characters genuinely feel like they are in big trouble! Torres and Tuvok’s prison stint is rough. (I did enjoy B’Elanna’s beatnik dissident prison garb. She looks like it is approximately 1956 and she is a French student who has been arrested for throwing a baguette at a cop.)

The only weak sequence is the prison break itself, which feels too easy and relies on a tired “sex worker disguise” subterfuge. But the ending is so satisfying and will break your heart.

Once Janeway’s back in uniform, it feels like we’ve truly been on a journey, one that brings to mind iconic episodes like “The Inner Light.” Voyager is a long way from home, and I want these characters to go through transformative experiences. The boldness of this episode gets us a little bit of the way there.

A radical reimagining of Voyager, and the best episode of season two in my estimation. I award this one 4.5/5 melon hats.

[sirfrogsworth]

Review of Blue Eye Samurai on Netflix

There are some spoiler-ish things below, but I think most of it is in the trailer, so I don't think I will ruin anything. I'll warn you during the most spoilery section, though the show makes the "twist" pretty obvious from the beginning.

Premise

Blue Eye Samurai is a Kill Bill-style revenge tale that takes place in 17th century Japan. The samurai is half white/half Japanese. The show states that no white folks were allowed in the country back then, so the samurai tries to conceal blue eyes with some sweet BluBlocker™ orange glasses. The Samurai is displeased to have white heritage and decides to try and kill all the "white devils" hiding in Japan.

Will some reactionaries complain there is a show all about someone trying to murder white people? I have no idea. But they're all bad white people, so I'm hoping it won't become a thing.

My Hot Takes

A few episodes meandered a bit, but I enjoyed the series as a whole quite a bit. If nothing else, the sword fights were epic and bloody. I would have watched it for that alone. And there is some gorgeous art direction where they really take advantage of the 2D styled, 3D animation. Plus, Japan is just really pretty. There is also a puppet show that was brilliantly mixed in with the story and the way they animated it was next level awesome.

They fell into cliche a few times. I think they were trying to do homages and tributes but ended up in Derivative Land and some of them felt a bit cringe.

They used "Battle Without Honor Or Humanity" which is that rousing instrumental song from Kill Bill and it was way too on the nose. Like, yes, this show is obviously a 1600s version of Kill Bill, but you're not supposed to make it that obvious.

Also, there was a Metallica song that equally made me roll my eyes and think, "That is badass" so I give them a pass on that one.

And there were a few sections where it felt like you were watching someone else play a video game. I don't know how else to describe it. As if the narrative melted away and suddenly a bunch of Prince of Persia obstacles appeared.

That said, the story was enjoyable, the actors were great, the characters were interesting, the animation was solid, and the fight choreography was top notch.

The nice thing about animation is you don't have to do any jump cuts during the action, so you get to really *see* the fights develop. Thankfully they didn't make use of a lot of impossible-in-real-life camera moves, so it all felt very grounded. As if these fights could actually be filmed in live-action. I suspect they may have even used motion capture or closely adhered to reference footage. Most of the non-fantastical choreography felt like something a stunt performer could actually do. They even had some legit Japanese samurai-style sword fighting moves before it got to the "John Wick with a katana" part of the show.

Back in the day, samurai duels were more akin to jousting than fencing and usually only lasted one or two moves. It can be pretty exciting as long as you build tension and anticipation. But if every sword fight in the show was like that, it would probably get boring. But it was still nice to see it toward the beginning.

So the quality was a bit roller coaster-y at times, but I think it was a solid first season. And I am really hopeful they get a chance to smooth things out in a second. But it is Netflix, soooooo...

As far as content warnings, there is a lot of blood and sex and nudity. Women are very subjegated and some of those depictions are rough. There are some brutal torture scenes. And I think there is implied rape, but it isn't made super clear.

The nudity was surprisingly balanced which felt refreshing. So get ready for boobies and floppy cartoon peens. All the genitals get screen time.

Quick aside about erotic scenes...

There has been recent discourse about nudity and sexy time in media. My biggest issue has always been that men's bodies are rarely shown aside from the patoot. It is never balanced and I always felt uncomfortable with that arrangement. I know movies are a bit stuck because the MPAA has decided dicks in a sexual context are an automatic NC-17. But even in newer HBO-type content where they do show penises, they are usually prosthetics. Hyper real fake dicks on top of real dicks that probably cost tens of thousands of dollars to develop and apply.

Like, the folks with boobs don't get expensive prosthetics. Only the most famous actresses can opt for a body double. For years, if an actress wasn't willing to get naked they would just say, "Well, I guess we'll just have to find another actress."

And now if a guy doesn't want to get naked, apparently the response is, "Don't worry, we'll raise Stan Winston from the dead so he can make you a perfect megadick."

Women are usually asked to do the brunt of the nudity and I have long felt that wasn't fair and it was exploitative whether intentional or not.

I just think if you are going to ask actors to be vulnerable, everyone should do it or no one should do it.

I also think we need to see more normal non-porn genitals. Like, you can't brag about your progressive all-inclusive nudity if you slap a giant fake wang on every time.

/end tangent

And now, the spoilery part...

The big twist, which is really only a big twist for a character in the show and not the audience, is that the Blue Eye Samurai was born a girl. To avoid capture and death they essentially hid in a different gender identity. And I'm trying to decide if this is a trans story or not.

Sometimes it felt like the show was bluntly saying, "She's a girl. See, she has boobs and no penis. And we make a big deal about her getting caught naked. It's like Mulan!"

But then the show kinda/sorta implies that while identifying as a man was a tactic at first, the Blue Eye Samurai came to feel much more comfortable as a man most of the time and only revealed their feminine attributes to a select few. They also had a binding scene which felt like intentional trans imagery.

Since there wasn't the same concept of trans-ness in 1600s Japan as we understand it in modern times, I'm having trouble determining if this is just an homage to Mulan that wasn't thought very deeply about, or if this is allegory exploring a trans identity.

It is unclear if the identity was chosen purely out of necessity or if there was more to it.

Was it like... they tried on a coat because it was cold, but then they really liked how it fit and made it an essential part of their wardrobe?

Or was it just pure pragmatism? If they don't wear the coat they will die from exposure.

I'm worried they wanted to stay close to that line where they could say it wasn't a trans story if that ended up being more convenient. I don't know. I'm fine with allegory and I really enjoyed how they did it with Nimona, but this felt more deliberately ambiguous and it frustrated me a bit. It would be nice if we could just have blatant trans stories that didn't need to hide in ambiguity to avoid controversy. But maybe there were more obvious things I missed and my confusion is unwarranted.

I also think an argument could be made for ol' Blue Eye being genderfluid. Actually genderfluid would make a lot of sense. Their masculine side is the stoic warrior and their feminine side is their vulnerability, love, and humanity—reserved only for those most trusted. And when the two blend and they are a warrior woman they get super horny. So the entire spectrum is there.

I'm sure there will be a long complicated video essay analyzing this gender dynamic.

/end of spoilery section

In any case, I think if you liked Kill Bill, this might be a show that interests you. It has much less cultural appropriation and blatant stereotyping. No Pussy Wagon, but there is a cool horse. And they did use an all East Asian voice cast, so that representation was cool. And the co-showrunner was Japanese, and I think that influence definitely made a difference.

I give Blue Eye Samurai 7.5 Froggies out of 10.

[gold-rhine]

All and all I think Penacony could’ve been one of the best stories hoyoverse ever made but they dropped the ball in the second half. The first two were setting it up to be a gritty story with at best a bitter-sweet ending that acts as a commentary on how people throw away their lives for fleeting happiness and a promised dream then fell flat by giving everyone a “happy ending” with no consequences.

I don’t really know how else to explain it but with the fake out deaths even the logically they wouldn’t kill off characters with very unique designs given what they did in hi3 and tingyun and the mystery of what’s behind the veil I hoped for a story with real stakes and even if the “dead” characters came back there would be consequences. But they just ended up in a more rough looking yet still friendly area and the veil ended up being a cheap plot twist at best.

It just seemed like they were setting up for something deeper than what actually happened. Even the Sparkle and the IPC patch didn’t amount to much and was basically a happy ending victory round setting up Jades whole deal.

Thoughts?

i dont agree about lack of grittiness being the problem. as asoiaf fan, i can for sure appreciate good death and dark and gritty when its done right, but also when its done wrong, its cancer, like later seasons of got, esp finale. like, if aventurine and robin were actually dead and the area was hostile wasteland, but nothing else changed, would penacony become great? no, it'd be worse actually.

the problem is not that no one actually died, the problem is that narrative and themes dropped the ball, but i already talked about this extensively.

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

Total 2 2000 Tech-House / Minimal Techno / Ambient

I've definitely done this before, but in order to kick off this post, I'm gonna have to rely on prolific electronic music opinion-haver Ishkur at length here, because he and I seem to be completely simpatico when it comes to our thoughts on the mostly bad phenomenon that is tech-house music:

Somehow by incorporating the strengths of both Techno and House, Tech House succeeded in appealing to neither. So the result is something frustratingly banal and monotonous when it really shouldn't be… Tech House straddles the razor-thin tightrope of something that doesn't have enough funky warmth for House yet not enough cold mechanicalism for Techno, so what comes out instead is something stiff, repetitive, and boring. It's such a disappointment, like the last season of Game of Thrones. Tech House had real promise. It could have done great things with the tools it had. And it's something everyone hoped would happen, like feeding Scrabble tiles to a dog to see if it shits out a word. But instead Tech House wasted its potential on pretentious Berlin nightclubs and that aimless, meandering noodlyness that the Brits are fond of, like a 70s prog rock solo that goes on for way too long. Technically interesting but utterly soulless… Tech House can be good. There is honestly good Tech House out there. I've even heard some. But finding it is a Herculian task of Sisyphian anguish in a Kafka-esque, Orwellian realm of Dostoevskian torment. It is possible to load up your music player with nothing but Tech House mixes, hop into your car, and drive to the other end of the continent and back and never hear the same song twice yet never hear an interesting song once. The odds of coming across decent Tech House are worse than needles made of diamonds in a rough full of haystacks.

So, yes, I 100% co-sign every single word of that. Ishkur did not teach me to think this way about tech-house, he just merely put it into words that already happened to mirror my exact thinking on the subject. In a similar way to progressive house—another genre that I don't like all that much—the sounds being made to create tech-house may be interesting and innovative themselves, but the way that those sounds are then combined typically yields something totally listless and often way too steady to be enjoyed. Like Ishkur says, the pieces are literally there to make something dope, but tech-house just seems largely unconcerned with a very crucial aspect of dance songcraft writ large—one that requires a tune to excitedly or satisfyingly grow, progress, and/or change over time.

See, to me, a lot of tech-housers really feel like people who are just cynically making dance music for the sake of it. It's like they heard house and techno and said, "oh, yeah, I can do that. That's easy. It's just looping up the same shit over and over again." And it's, like, "no, motherfucker, that's actually not at all what this is about. You really have no idea, do you?"

But guess what? They're actually not totally wrong here. Tech-house may legitimately be, overall, the most boring form of dance music that I've ever encountered in my life, but there are evidently more than enough people in this world that somehow derive satisfaction from it in order for it to have been able to successfully sustain itself for over two decades now. It's just that the people who enjoy it are like the dance music equivalent of those who, after a long and grueling day of work, like to go home and kick back with a blissful session of Lawnmower Simulator 4 😌.

So here's the second dispatch from Cologne-based label Kompakt's long-running Total series, a turn-of-the-millennium sampler that, despite it having a good deal of unique quirkiness to it, still somehow manages to bore me to absolute tears. Maybe if you've been following me long enough, you remember that I once posted about the first volume of Total, and concluded that the first half was excruciatingly boring, but the second half was fantastic. No such luck here. This is pretty much just that first half of the first Total, but doubled. Most songs start in a way that'll have you thinking, "Oh, yeah, this is pretty cool, this definitely sounds like it could be good," but then Lucy ends up pulling the football each time 😩.

Case in point, M. Mayer's "Amanda," a five-and-a-half-minute song with so much promise and a neat 80s new wave-pop edge to it too. When this thing first starts up, there is no sign that this 80s edge is going to materialize itself in any way, shape, or form, but at a little past the one-minute mark, it starts to lather itself in. And then, as you find out, this early, appetizing moment actually ends up representing the song's entire creative apex! I mean, we still have, like, over 80% of this whole tune to go, but I promise you, not a single interesting thing occurs in its very large remainder. Again, like Ishkur says, it's just so utterly aimless. This song exists because someone made it, but the idea that it has any sort of actual purpose in this universe is really questionable at best.

Like, all of this is just so maddeningly confounding to me. It's like these musicians really do genuinely find themselves on to something each time, and then rather than trying to push further, they decide that they're actually finished and just let whatever half-baked thing they've built ride itself out on an agonizingly long plateau until it thankfully takes a nose-dive off the side of a cliff. It really drives me nuts, because you can hear a possibility of something enjoyably substantive coming to fruition, but it's like there's also this inherently natural aversion to the idea of having to lift more than one finger too; everyone is just so content to glide down the bunny hill, and people are more than willing to vociferously cheer it on. It really makes not a single lick of goddamn sense to me, but there you have it—my tech-house take.

Read more Ishkur.

No highlights.

[dubious-writing]

💗 dunnerlars

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

Sorry this took so long anon, I had to go to work and, y’know, do my job as I can earn money to stay alive 😖 Hope you enjoy it!!

He can’t believe it. He can’t– he can’t believe it. 

The Cup. The Cup.

It’s not the first time Vince has been here at the tail end of a grueling season, sticky with sweat and the muggy heat of dozens of other bodies crowded in around him, the taste of silver metallic and sweet on his lips. But it feels like it should be.

He liked St. Louis, is grateful to the Blues for drafting him and enjoyed his time there, still keeps in touch with the friends he made with the organization. But he didn’t realize the difference between playing for the love of the game and playing for the love of your team until he came to Seattle. Didn’t realize how good it would feel to lift 35 solid pounds knowing it couldn’t have happened without you.

There are cameras flashing at every angle, wires trailing across the ice just waiting for someone to trip over them or cut one with their skate. Vince feels half blind from the glare on the ice, like no matter which direction he turns he can’t stop squinting. A hand runs through his hair every few minutes, teammates and coaching staff and family members laying hands on any body in a teal jersey they can reach. He thinks maybe a kiss or two is smushed into his cheeks, but he doesn’t stop to find out. Vince isn’t sure what he’s looking for, just keeps spinning in place, wobbly on his feet from the mix of exhaustion and the never-ending hits of adrenaline. He isn’t sure until he finds it.

By some divine intervention, the crowds seem to part at just the right second for Vince to turn and see Adam there, across the ice maybe 30 feet away, blue eyes bright with tears above the unkempt scruff of his beard. Vince hasn’t seen a smile that big on his face since… he doesn’t really know, actually. Years, maybe, if at all. Adam is already looking back at him, watching, waiting for Vince to catch up and notice the attention.

It’s like there’s a piece of fishing line caught between them, tightening, pulling them together, though who is reeling who Vince couldn’t say. Doesn’t even particularly care either, when the end result is the two of them together, forming their own little pocket of pseudo-privacy in the middle of all the chaos and attention.

They’re not out, haven’t really discussed whether or not they want to be, but they haven’t been careful either. If Vince wants to hold his boyfriend's hands in the streets of the city, he does. If Adam wants to bundle him into a hoodie with a large number 6 on the back, he doesn’t hesitate. If Vince is seen amongst the display cases of a jewelry shop downtown getting a custom silver ring engraved, then so be it.

So it’s really not all that surprising - at least to them and those that know them - when Vince reaches up, places both hands on his love’s face, tracing along eyebrows and perpetual eyebags; when Adam’s fingers trace along the back of his neck and underneath the hem of his jersey, callouses catching on rough fabric; when neither of them can tell who leans in first and kiss right there on center ice. In front of god and the Stanley Cup and the entire city of Seattle.

As one kiss turns into two turns into five, when they’re finally noticed and Vince can hear the roar of the crowd die down but for just a second before it returns even louder than before and he can’t help but smile against Adam’s lips more than kiss them, he thinks about that silver ring in its gray velvet box hidden away under the knick knacks gathered on his bedside table. Thinks about the engraving on the inside molding the skin of Adam’s left hand. Thinks about how nice it will be for them to have two sets of matching rings, now.

Mitt hjärta, min skatt, mitt liv, mitt allt.