#gap the series podcast

[biggayenergypod]

Gap Ep 1-2: Enchanted to Meet You

“We met when we were kids, her charming smile is forever imprinted in my memory, and I want to see her again.”

In hindsight, this was a very revealing moment…

Sam wasn’t allowed to keep the dog → hint her family is controlling

At this point in time, Sam is pre-Grandmother taking full control of her life. She doesn’t have all those emotional walls up. She speaks her mind freely, says exactly what she feels and doesn’t hide them or say the opposite

Sam is unabashedly herself in this moment, and it’s important that this version of Sam is what left such as lasting impression on Mon

Although young, Mon emotionally connects with Sam very quickly and acts immediately to ease Sam’s sadness (a hallmark of Mon’s character) and takes care of the dog for the rest of his life.

Watch: https://youtu.be/_SE19_w5WEk

Listen: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/bgepod

[the-conversation-pod]

These three shows are the stuff of HR nightmares, but we suppose the course of true love never did run smooth. Ben and NiNi talk GAP the Series, The New Employee, and HIStory 5: Love in the Future.

[criticallyobs]

Our 18th podcast dives into the 11th episode of our latest obsession: A Thai BL called Dangerous Romance starring Chimon & Perth. Join us as we fan girl & pull apart the episode.

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

Chapters 3 & 4 are up! and with that, I will be taking a lil break to take care of my personal life. No clue when I’ll have time to post the next chapter, but I have a hunch it’ll come sometime around Sunday Midnight....

(general fic summary under the cut)

Summary:

A tall, willowy figure holds Small Fry close to his chest. One hand supporting the rabbit’s body, the other scratching between her lovely floppy ears. Dressed in a flowy blouse and dark slack, sweat sticks to his chest. The cut of the blouse draws attention to his collarbones. His hair is a mess, grey streaks of hair sticking out on the sides. Far from its usual perfect put together coif. Likely due to the heat, possibly something else.. Nails neatly manicured, kept short with a glossy finish. Gold jewelry catches the light streaming in from the windows creating glare in the small glasses poised on the tip of his nose. No make-up, not even Rubus lipstick. The air smells stale. Faint hints of booze, lingering cigarette smoke, and charred vegetables.

And nothing else.

(the 36 questions au that like- two, maybe three other people have been waiting on over on tumblr. in which Juno is Jase, Peter is Natalie/Judith but the lines get swapped and blurred and in general Juno is Not Having It.)

[n1et]

Correct me if I'm wrong, but is that not basically the entire premise of Michel as a character?

We never see most of the developments that led him to becoming how he is (was?) And it's outright stated that most of them never happened and will not be discussed.

He said "You turn into me, remember that" which might come true in the coming episodes, but not at all in the sense implied at the time. Without intervention Mike Mikey Michael and M.W. all remained distinct characters, without much drift into eachother's personalities.

This of course isn't *the same* but I think it shares some narrative parallels with the concept. There have been narratively significant events, that led to the cast developing, that nobody is privy to because those events never happened in the first place, with said characters being the only person still affected.

I think without that tie in to the story line, the question becomes slightly moot. If a tree falls in a forest but the only witness gets deleted out of the timeline along with it, does it make a sound? The answer I think is no, because the tree never existed, and it's not like the only guy who can disagree ever existed either.

listen the thing that really sticks in my head about woe.begone is the potential that the utilization of time travel within the canon storyline changes the events relative to the way we (the audience) experience it.

maybe this has been addressed in the pod or is altogether just too meta, but the idea that, for example, something could've happened to some version of mike that now, thanks to continuity/corrections/ the like, we (as meta w.bg pod listeners/in-canon listeners to w.bg as "mike's podcast"?) don't remember, because the iterations of him that initially experienced the event in their timelines, for one reason of another, are equally unaware that it ever even happened.

[hellishjoel]

ride

7.2k // pairing:dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

summary: Joel whisks you away to Houston for the weekend under the guise of a work trip. You keep a secret from him to try and keep your fling undetected from your parents. warnings: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, dbf/neighbor!joel, smut, swearing, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel in his 40s), pet names, fingering, oral (f! receiving), unprotected p in v (shower sex hehe), a little overstim if you squint

A/N: sorry not sorry this chapter took a month+, but I hope you like it! A little drammaaaa. and a reminder, they still have all day saturday and sunday together ;)

follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!

You gulp. “Joel-”, it’s almost in a warning tone. “I don’t- fuck, it feels-”  “Uh-huh,” Joel murmurs against your core, nodding gently, grazing his nose against your clit in the process before his warm mouth tightens around your clit. And he suckles.  You cry out, walls clenching around his fingers as he milks an orgasm from you. You damn near crumble, but he tightens the hold on your hip to keep you afloat.  “There ya go, princess, come on my fingers,”

June 23rd 7:48 P.M. 

I’ve had some time to think about Joel, and how much I like to think about him, and how things aren’t an accident. 

Thinking about how unlikely it is that we sparked. 

How Joel could have turned left, and I could have turned right. But we didn’t. 

Instead of running away, I said yes, and so did he. 

The impossibility of us seems so incredible, almost unbelievable. 

I love that so many things had to happen for us to be where we are right now. 

I saw the sun melt his eyes into amber, and he liked the way I smiled in the moonlight. 

This feeling was radical, unnerving, scary. 

I didn’t know why it was called falling or crashing into love. Perhaps I do now. 

“You could sit there and read all day, huh?” Joel interrupts your thoughts as he starts to guide his truck off the freeway, passing a large aluminum Welcome to Houston! sign lit up by the truck’s headlights. 

Butterflies flutter in your stomach, cheeks squished from smiling as his hand settles on your upper thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles on your sweet skin.  

“I’m not reading anymore. Got too dark.” He’s referring to the novel you brought for the trip from your to-be-read pile that you started when you first got on the road. 

The drive from Austin to Houston was two-and-a-half hours long, so you decided to saddle the passenger seat with different activities and snacks to keep yourself busy and out of Joel’s hair, much to his behest. He said he enjoyed letting you ramble on about whatever you were thinking about; said it was like listening to a podcast.  

“But I am writing.” You hum quietly, penning in your last thought before it gets lost in the black of night. 

“What’cha writin’, then?” Joel's curious eyes wander to the nest you had made for yourself in the passenger seat as he tilts his chin up to try and read beyond your journal cover. 

You snap it closed and slip the pen in somewhere between the pages. “Keep your eyes on the road, old man.” Your tone is teasing, making you grin even more as he grumbles in annoyance under his breath as the truck slowly approaches a stop light. 

Once off the freeway and down to the local roads, you roll the window down. You watch the moon start to rise in the sky, feeling goosebumps grow on your arms and exposed legs while the wind lazily flows through your hair. The gentle night breeze is welcome to air out Joel’s stuffy truck. 

You were supposed to be his navigator once he got off the freeway, but you were a bit preoccupied looking around yourself. 

You and Joel left Friday evening as soon as he was done with work, and now you were lightly coasting the streets of Houston as the sun finished setting. You could see the diverse architecture of downtown, the skyline of skyscrapers and high-rises were all crowded together. As you moved further into midtown, Joel drove past small businesses and parks. You let your hand float out the window, surfing the wind like a wave. 

“Hey, space cadet, if you’re not gonna give me the directions to the motel, the least you can do is toss me a french fry.” 

Your head cocks back to him, curiously smiling as you reach your hand aimlessly into the fast food bag, retrieving a fry and bringing it up to his lips. You settled on McDonald’s before you left Danbury, partially because Joel felt like being a little cheap, and you agreed they had the best, saltiest french fries. 

You feed it to him, and he teasingly sucks the salt off your fingers. 

“Gross, Joel.” 

He sneers as he watches you wipe your hands on your thighs to rid yourself of his saliva. “You like it.”

He’s not wrong. You force yourself to look back out the window again to hide the heat creeping up the back of your neck. 

Joel smirks and squeezes your thigh to bring you back to him. When you look over to the handsome man donning his usual green flannel, the wind furles your hair in messy, unkempt streaks. 

He hesitates for a moment, but now that you’re no longer preoccupied with reading or writing, he holds your hand. You feel him test the waters, settling for just lightly clasping it in your lap, but it’s not enough for him. His thick fingers and calloused hand meets the heart of your palm as his fingers weave with your own. He lets out a little sigh and settles himself there. 

You feel like teasing him. You’re afraid to hold my hand but not to fuck my throat in your woodshed with a party right outside? But then you remember how difficult it was to kiss him. It still felt like a slip-up, you had to admit. Especially if this was supposed to be just a casual relationship. It felt intimate and emotionally charged. But it was just kissing, right? And this was just holding hands. 

Your thoughts wrestle around your head a bit. Joel feels it. You’re not sure how he always seems to know what you’re thinking, but he does. His thumb strokes a gentle line up and down the muscle of your thumb, a silent way of saying stop thinking for once.  It’s appreciated, the sense of care and thoughtfulness he provided without even speaking a word. 

Ever since he took you to that bar, Past Lives, all you could think about was Joel. Joel on repeat. Joel taking you away from the distracted environment of the lakehouse. Joel showing you the map, saying there was more to the world than Texas. Joel kissing you. Joel touching you. Joel fucking you. Joel protecting you. Joel saving you. 

As much as you’ve had time to reflect on Joel, you’ve also reflected on your parents. They were hardly bad people, but they didn’t respect your adult choices. You came to tearfully realize that your relationship with them had slowly deteriorated since leaving for university. You grew independent, and that was especially hard for them. Something you had trouble understanding, something Joel didn’t understand either. 

You called Joel Thursday night before your trip under the guise of asking if you should pack any specifics, but the conversation ended up landing on his relationship and parenting with Sarah. You told him how you appreciated the way he let Sarah grow and experience things, that it was good for her. 

“She’s a tough girl, and I trust’er. Nothin’ much left to say.”

“So, what-” you stumble and scoff over the phone. “My parents don’t trust me? Or think I’m not tough enough to tackle the world?”

“S’not what I’m sayin’, darlin’. I don’t know what’s up with your folks. But you don’t need their approval, you’re an adult. All you need is t’… t’ trust yourself. Sounds fuckin’ cheesy, but it’s true.”

You pause, twisting a strand of hair around your finger as your eyebrows furrow, thinking over his words. “Y’think if I act a little more confident about it, they’ll start believing it too?”

Joel’s chuckle is a little crackle-ey on the line as he wanders around his house talking to you, going in and out of good reception. “Gotta start somewhere, buttercup. At the end of the day, it’s about your happiness, not theirs. Don’t gotta be such a people pleaser all the time.” 

Yes, I do, you think. 

“Thanks, Joel.”

“Sure thing, hon’.” 

Dusk on the outskirts of Houston. The houses become few and far between. There’s more green grass and flourished trees. Joel slowly pulls into a small driveway, a large blue neon-lit sign designated that you were at your motel for the weekend. The entire truck is highlighted in a pale blue from the illumination, you nearly have to squint. There were no more than two or three cars parked outside. It was a two-level motel, with an outside staircase to navigate the different floors. 

“The Blue Swallow Motel.” Your attention strays to Joel with furrowed brows. “Why here?” 

Joel shrugs and navigates himself into a parking spot with ease. “Don’t know. Like blue swallows.”

Curiosity sparks you. 

“You like blue swallows? You’ve seen one in person?” 

He shakes his head and says nothing for a moment, but it almost looks like he can’t help himself to dispel some information. “They’re native to Africa, only ever seen the North American variants  ‘round here.” He lets the engine grumble down once he pulls the key from the ignition, but you’re still awestruck in his passenger seat.  

“I’m sorry- Joel Miller Bird Enthusiast?” The eager tone in your voice gives away your excitement, and Joel seems to despise it when you get too excited about him. He has to close his eyes and hang his head, wishing he never said anything. 

“Oh, Joel Miller, don’t even try to deny it, I’ve seen those bird guides on your bookshelf, you’re a birder.” 

His neck swivels, eyes wide and defensive. “I am not a birder.”

You throw your head back in laughter, and eventually, he cracks a smile. “They’re interestin’, okay?”

You playfully pat his shoulder with reassurance, nodding in agreement. The two of you settle down from your fits of laughter and look over the exterior of the motel once more. 

“Y’said you wanted somethin’ quaint? Small?” 

Being with Joel and having no other distractions was your goal for this weekend. Since this trip was coming out of Joel’s pocket, you insisted you didn’t need some fancy hotel. You’ve traveled to Houston a handful of times before, and the last thing you wanted was for your view outside some high-rise hotel to be Danbury in the distance. 

You squeeze his hand once more and nod, stars lighting up behind your eyes. “It’s perfect. Thanks for finding something simple.”

Joel teeters on your appreciation but ultimately ends up shaking his head. “Could’ve gotten something a little nicer for ya, maybe closer to downtown-”

You stop him right there and bring his rough knuckles to your plush lips, adding a kiss to each one. “I said it’s perfect, so it’s perfect. I like it, it’s got charm, chutzpah even. Plus, looks like we’ll have the pool to ourselves.” You hum with a devious little smirk. You hop out of the truck and open the backdoor to grab your things. 

“Pool, you say?” He retorts, an eyebrow raised with narrow eyes on you. You lightly shrug as you grab your backpack. 

“Might have forgotten my swimsuit, though. Shame.”

You brush past Joel, who is scoffing lightly under his breath in disbelief, duffel bag brushing against his calves as he walks with you towards the motel office. You would be the death of this man. 

“Damn shame.”  He mutters, a smirk hanging low on his lips.

---

Room 135 was marked on the dark chestnut door, a small white plate with black numbering decked on. 

There wasn’t much to be said about the motel room itself. You tried to stifle a laugh when you and Joel both walked in to see two separate queen beds. The sheets were white, but the top cover was an extravagant red pattern that looked like it got lost in the 80s. A side table was resting against the wall towards the headboards with a beige telephone placed on top, resting over a few local restaurant menus. Two small lamps were attached to the wall above the beds, perfectly opposite of the television sat on top of a tall dresser. 

“Is this your idea of a romantic getaway?” You teased as you walked further inside over the beige carpet. “Two beds don’t exactly scream romantic.” You set your backpack down on the foot of the bed furthest from the door and closest to the bathroom around the corner. You assume this bed will just be used to hold both of your luggage, not a person. 

“No,” Joel said through a tight gruff as he strained to lift his bag of tools and luggage onto the edge of his own bed. “S’a work trip. Not a romantic getaway.” 

Your smile falters as you purse your lips and fiddle with your hands behind your back. 

“So, this really is a work trip?” You clarify, to which Joel looks at you a bit confused. 

“Course it is.” 

A light boil simmers through your chest. Maybe you will be sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel could sense your flattened mood, and he quickly felt the need to sweep up the pieces of what he broke. He was bad with words, terrible really, but he tried to find the right ones for you. 

“I said that wrong. It’s a work trip but,” he trails off and falters as he saddles his hands on his hips for a moment and sighs, your doe eyes looking up to his own. “But I brought you here to spend some real time with ya. Didn’t wanna,” he shrugs and rolls his eyes. A classic Joel Miller sign that he wants to say something a little personally emotional. 

“What?” You probe him, a smile tickling your lips as you loop your hands to rest just above the ones on his hips. “You didn’t want to what, Joel?” You ask, setting your chin on his chest and looking up at him with a goofy grin. 

He sighs and rolls his eyes again, having a hard time looking at you. “I didn’t wanna go on this trip alone. Didn’t want to leave you at home when I could bring ya with.” 

Joel wasn’t a social man. In fact, if the world went to shit, you think he might really enjoy the solitude. But for him to admit that he would rather have you in his space than out of it, it’s quite endearing. 

Now you’re the one who's hiding a blush. You settle your cheek against his chest and sigh, soaking in his scent and his warmth. Joel’s hand comes to rest on the side of your head, gently stroking your hair away from your face as the two of you relax into a gentle hug. 

“Were you serious about that no bathin’ suit thing?” He asks after a moment of silence, causing you to roll your eyes and shove him a good distance away. 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You sneer as you round the bed to the bathroom, needing desperately to relieve yourself after the drive. Of all colors, it’s a beautiful mint green. Incredibly retro, you think as you use the toilet and stare at the shower absentmindedly. You roll your phone around in your hands once you finish washing them, a lump rising in your throat. 

Your mother’s words echoed in your ear. 

“If it gets serious, we want to meet this young man.”

There was no young man. The young man your mother referred to was really Joel. Panic was spreading through your body just at the thought of trying to fix this situation. They figured out you were seeing someone, they just didn’t quite know who. A few heavy breaths labor out of you, anxiety nestling in your chest. 

“You okay, buttercup? Been a minute.” Joel asks cautiously from the opposite side of the door, his knuckles offering a few polite knocks. 

Your chest surges. You didn’t want him to know you’d slipped up, half-told your parents the truth. You didn’t want him to end things out of fear of them finding out. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine, Joel. Just.. gimme a minute.” 

His feet don’t move on the other side of the door. He doesn’t want to leave you, feeling something slightly wrong. 

“Really, Joel, just- checking out the facilities.” God. 

He sighs before you hear him back off. “Alright. Lemme know f’you need anythin’.” 

You need to act, or else this feeling will eat you alive. Finally, with some accurate cell service, you text the first person you think of. Nathan. Remember that childhood crush of yours? You hadn’t seen him in years, and with how gorgeous he was growing up, there was a scary feeling that you might be texting a man who had a girlfriend. But he was your only hope to cover up the mess you had made. 

Growing up with Nathan and his parents being friends with your own always felt like a setup. Your mothers always cooed that you two just might end up marrying one another. At the time, you wished it was true, that all this exposure with him would lead to something romantic. But then you grew up, saw each other a little less over the summers, and grew apart. You still kept in contact via social media, but not often. You saw his life in pictures. One from a homecoming dance, a group picture of him and his friends, an action shot of him playing basketball, a high school graduation picture, and a similar one for college graduation. He was still alive somewhere out there, you just didn’t know him like you used to. 

Nathan was always kind, goofy, very golden retriever-like. Summers spent apart created a rift, but he was your childhood best friend and crush once upon a time. If he was willing to help you out, you owed him big time. So you shoot him a text and cross your fingers that this is still his number. The last thing logged in your messages was a silly conversation about cheetahs versus jaguars. You were team cheetahs, obviously. 

You felt a slight sense of relief once you came up with a plan. Talk to Nathan. See if he can act as your fake boyfriend for your parents. See if he doesn’t think you’re damn crazy for concealing your forty-something-year-old fuck buddy. 

You’re not really sure how to reignite the conversation, it’s been so damn long. You stare at the blank screen before you craft the brilliant message: 

Hi

A sigh leaves your parted, anxious lips, and you shove your phone away. 

---

You really did bring a bathing suit, much to Joel’s eagerness for the rumor to be true. You change into it with your back turned to him. You feel his eyes boring holes into you, sending a small dash of goosebumps up your arms. “I’m going for a dip before bed.” You say as you fiddle with the strings of your bikini top, struggling for a moment before you feel a warm presence step in behind you and fuss away with the strings himself. 

You hum softly as he fastens the strings, making a bow at your midback. Joel’s lips brush against your shoulder before they start sponging gentle kisses up your neck. The hair you tied up into a loose bun tickles his nose. 

“Such’a pretty girl.” He hums against your skin, a soft shiver trickling up your spine, lips parting in pleasure. “Too bad you’re not a very good girl.” Joel murmured as his hands slipped lower, past your hips, past the curve of your ass, until he was cupping both cheeks in his large palms. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his fingers squeeze at your flesh. A moan escapes your lips, you just can’t help it. You love it when Joel is handsy for you, the needy one. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and turn in his arms, eagerly kissing him as you cup his cheeks. He fights for control instantly, pulling you in at your hips so your back arches backward out of habit. You let your head dip back, eyes dipping closed as his lips trail down your neck, then between the valley of your breasts, all while his wiry beard creates scratches in his wake. 

“Do you have swim trunks?” You ask breathily, shoving him lightly by the top of the head further down your body. He drops to his knees and continues to trail kisses down your stomach. 

The question catches him off guard.

“Do I- what?” He asks breathily, looking up at you as he sponges kisses over your clothed center. 

“If you don’t have swim trunks,” you try to continue, “you can’t go swimming with me.” You say with a teasing smirk, stepping around Joel, who was awestruck kneeling on the ground, his hands still in place where he was cupping the backs of your thighs before he slaps them down on his own to show annoyance. 

He was probably thinking how you just up and disappeared when you were just standing in front of him a moment ago. Joel grumbles something, but you’re already out the door of the motel room. 

---

The pool is glowing in its blue hue, lit by dim lights around the perimeter and the silver moon in the sky. 

In a world so vast, you couldn’t help but feel a little lost in wanting to explore it. 

You take a breath in through your nose and test the water with a dip of your toe. A bit cold for your liking, but the warm Texas summers make your skin sticky and the air a bit stale. So you dive in. 

The cool water is a shock to your system at first, with goosebumps growing on your skin like wildfire. Your face breaks the seal of the water, emerging over the light ripples you created upon diving in, catching your breath. You take a few leisurely laps along the outskirts, feeling weightless, free. 

“Nice night.” Joel’s brassy voice breaks the gentle chorus of the summer cicadas. You hum as you carve your way through the water until you meet the pool’s edge. You rest your arms on the lip of the pool, bringing your breasts just above the surface of the water. 

“Get. In.” You say with an authoritative voice, despite your eager smile. 

He cocks his head a few degrees to the right, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No. You look like a shivering chihuahua.” 

His joke elicits a giggle from you. 

“It’s only cold for the first few minutes. You’ll warm up.” You’re only half-lying, the pool was so fucking cold. 

Joel merely shakes his head. “You’re crazy, buttercup.” 

You hum as you push off the edge of the pool, moving towards the center, letting the water dance around you as your arms glide back and forth to keep you afloat. 

“Sounds like you need some motivation.” Your eyes lock on Joel’s as your fingers navigate to the back of your bikini strings, slowly pulling the tie loose, feeling the water aid you in floating the material off your upper half. The top strings around your neck are still tied, concealing the full reveal of your breasts. 

Joel’s once secure face fizzled, eyes straying and lips parting. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he kneels down, pointer finger curling towards him impatiently.  “Get over here.”

You shake your head disobediently. “Now.” His barking urgency makes you stifle a smirk. 

“Joel Miller afraid of a little cold water.” You shrug and move your fingers to the strings tied behind your neck, slowly tugging loose the threads. The material falls limp into the water, floating in front of you free from your body. 

Joel watches with impatience, the spill of your breasts making his cock twitch inside his swim trunks. The mesh material was forgiving, allowing him to swell at the sight of you. The cold water has your nipples taut, drawn into sweet peaks. You’re just out of his fucking reach, too far into the pool for him to grab you. 

He grunts quietly, jaw tight as you slowly swim closer to him. You shiver at his glance alone. 

“If you want me,” your voice drops innocently, doe eyes making their appearance to reel him in, “you’ll get in the pool, Mr. Miller.” 

Just out of his reach once more, you swim back to the center and push your thumbs into the band of your bikini bottoms, down your legs, leaving you bare in the pool for anyone to see from the highway or their own motel rooms. You must admit, Joel’s desperate gaze filled with want makes you squirm with excitement. Disobeying him lights that explosive even more. 

He offers you his hand, one final offer.  “Last chance, angel, get out of the pool.” 

“Why do you even have swim trunks on if you aren’t going to get in?” You ask, eyes gazing over the tangled hair he has scattered across his chest. 

“I was hoping these would appease you alone. Now come here,” he juts his hand out as an offering one last time. 

You roll your eyes and swim closer, your breasts lapping in the water as you take Joel’s hand. And tug with all your strength. 

His feet skid to try and hold him back, but he ultimately summersaults into the pool. You cover your mouth with your hand, unable to conceal your laughs as Joel emerges, sopping wet, cold, angry. 

“Y-You-” He chatters his teeth, eyes screwed tight on you as he pushes his hand back through his soaked curls and down his face, grazing his wiry beard. “You’re gonna get it.” 

Joel’s threat makes you squeal. You attempt to doggy paddle away, but the grip he catches on your arm is iron.  He pulls you back to him, and your body glides through the water, arms securing on his biceps once you’re locked in his hold. He’s threatening, but not as much so when you wrap your legs around his waist and feel his half-hard length. 

You raise your eyebrow at him, and he half-chuckles. 

“Such a fuckin’ piece of work you are.” He grunts out, hands searing the flesh of your hips as he skirts his hand down lower, cupping the globes of your ass. 

A hum tickles your throat as you lean in and press your lips to his jawline in a tempting kiss, smiling as Joel’s nose playfully nudges yours, leaning in for more. 

It’s stomach-twisting how you feel so comfortable with Joel, how you sink into his body, and how he warms your core. You kiss him until your lips feel bruised, and he grips your beautiful curves with eagerness. The two of you kiss like hungry teenagers, finally outside the watchful eyeline of your parents. Joel’s cock is hardening against your naked core.

He forces himself off of you, groaning lightly as he strays from your eyes. Cupping his jawline, you angle him back to you, resting your foreheads together. 

“Makin’ me get all riled up like a damn teenager.” His warm breath puffs across your face, his words make your bundle of nerves tingle. 

“I like that I’m the one causing it.” 

Joel chews at the inside of his cheek before giving you a tight little nod. “Me too, buttercup.”

---

Joel decides pool play is over. He gets out first, snags your bikini pieces that floated to the edge of the pool and starts walking leisurely back into the motel room. 

He only hears your cursing and belligerent rambling after he returns from turning on the shower, piping hot. 

“Can’t hear ya when you’re chatterin’ your teeth.” 

Joel returns to the bathroom and strips his swim trunks off, still half-hard. He tests the water with his hand, giving you an affirming nod it was okay to step in. 

You’re still angry and seething, having to streak your way back to the room naked and freezing your bare ass off. He looks at your crossed arms and playfully tuts. “You’re the one that thought t’drag me in there with ya, princess.” 

Joel follows you into the shower, the water splashing searing hot droplets. It only feels that hot because you’re readjusting from the pool’s temperature. You find yourself huddling into Joel’s warmth. 

He finds it endearing, the way your head settles on his chest, your ear to his heart, too chilled to let him go. He angles the showerhead downwards, letting it focus on your body first. He could wait. 

You gently release your crossed arms, letting them wrap low around his hips. He had a few extra pounds of flesh low on his tummy and on the sides of his waist. You gently pinch the area and smile. 

“Stop that.” He hisses, eyebrows knitted together. 

“But I like it. You’re my favorite person to hug.” 

The sentiment splashed warmth on the back of his neck. Joel has picked up a few extra pounds from town barbeques, and beers tossed back during football games. He used to not like it, the way he had to loosen his belt after a big meal, or having to purchase his new t-shirts in a size up. He didn’t think about it much, but naked with you in the shower, feeling you admire his ever-changing body, was a comfort. 

You look up after a few moments of silence, setting your chin on his chest and feeling his chest hair graze against your skin. 

Joel wants to warm you up, get you to relax under the showerhead. He presses a nimble kiss to your lips, pitter-pattering kisses along the extent of your body before he is down on his knees, angling your back to rest against the shower wall. 

Tired after your car ride and melting under the shower’s sprinkling water, you ache for a relief that will come from your head hitting a pillow. But Joel had other things in mind, things that would make you forget you were tired in an instant. 

Now under his watchful eye, lips and wiry beard scratching at your soft skin, you lightly part your legs for his entrance. God, please don’t let me slip and embarrass myself right now. Let me have this one good thing, this man’s tongue against my pussy would make me a God-willing woman. 

Joel can feel your exhausted body, begging to find a bed. But he had you where he wanted you, and his mouth was watering to taste your sweet musky arousal. His hands settle themselves on the backs of your thighs, supporting your weight as his head leans into your warmth. 

He brings two fingers forward, parting your center, licking a slow draw up your core. His tongue flicks off your clit, your bundle of nerves twitches. Something flips in his stomach, and his cock grows heavy against his thigh. 

You taste sweet and serene, something he’s grown an appetite for. With several days apart awaiting your weekend trip away, he often found himself at night, spilling into his hand thinking about your young, beautiful pussy flushed against his mouth. He takes this opportunity to relish in you moaning his name, without any curious ears. 

His tongue sinks lower, swirling around your tense entrance. The swell of his tongue gushes more arousal from you, and he gets a proper taste that isn’t mixed with water from the shower. 

Joel’s grip on your thigh tightens, and he laps at your clit like a famished man. 

The constant flicks have you gasping for air in the all-too-warm shower. Your fingers weave into his soaking wet curls, still finding a grip as your thigh twitches against his hand. 

Joel’s two fingers parting your center gently massage at your entrance, wiggling in gently as he suckles on your clit, and you mewl weakly. 

His tongue and teeth lightly graze your sensitivity, feeling stars clouding your vision as his fingers set a gentle pace. 

“Ooh,” you sigh weakly, feeling his fingers hit the perfect spot, one that makes you shake. 

Joel knows that sound, knows the feeling. He looks up, admires the way your pretty lips are parted in bliss. The hand on your thigh is brought to your stomach, gently stroking over the flesh. 

You watch him a little curiously, a little fucked. His mouth returns to your clit, but his hand still falters on your lower abdomen. You whimper as he adds a little pressure, and quickens his fingers. It’s jaw-dropping, the friction and pressure, piling on top of each other.

You gulp. “Joel-”, it’s almost in a warning tone. “I don’t- fuck, it feels-” 

“Uh-huh,” Joel murmurs against your core, nodding gently, grazing his nose against your clit in the process before his warm mouth tightens around your clit. And he suckles. 

You cry out, walls clenching around his fingers as he milks an orgasm from you. You damn near crumble, but he tightens the hold on your hip to keep you afloat. 

“There ya go, princess, come on my fingers,” he grunts, jaw tight, and teeth clenched as he watches your cum-arousal mixture glide down his fingers in a sticky mess. He slowly stands, watching you pant for air, as he sucks his digits clean with an evil smirk. 

The temperature in here is too much, heat consumes your body as you weakly grip his biceps. 

“God damn, Mr. Miller.” You say breathlessly. You take him in a quick kiss, moaning weakly into his mouth at your taste. His tongue tangles with you, and he keeps his fingers on your core. His first two fingers start to slowly circle your clit again, but it’s entirely too soon. 

You whimper weakly into his mouth, your clit aching and still recovering from your oral orgasm. 

“Mmm- can’t do it, Joel.” 

Joel snarls as he swiftly turns you around, his foot hitting the insides of both of your ankles to spread your legs. Your face is plastered against the shower wall, watching him out of the corner of your eye with your jaw dropped. 

“Be good for me, baby girl, show how thankful you are.” 

You whine at his raspy voice, feeling its timbre bounce against the walls. 

“Please,” you beg in a whisper, inching your feet farther apart for him to take you in the shower. 

Joel strokes his cock, seething through his teeth at the desperate relief he’s feeling. His swollen tip vies for your attention. He lines himself up, his other hand on your hip as he notches himself inside. 

You visibly flinch away, Joel hushing you softly as he tries again. 

“Gotta relax for me, pretty girl.”

You sigh weakly and let yourself melt with the warm water, fluttering your eyes closed as you gently jut your hips back into this, needing to be filled. 

Joel tries again after lining his tip up and down your slit and gathering your arousal. He notches inside of you once more, causing your eyelashes to flutter. He slowly presses on. 

The drinks must have really loosened you up since the last time the two of you fooled around in his truck. He wasn’t so hard to take then, but now he feels thicker, rounder. You could feel the thick vein on the underside of his cock as he ruts his hips into your ass. 

Finally, you will yourself to breathe, moaning his name in desperation. 

Joel’s trying to contract his lungs, but you’re gripping onto him so tight, the heat of the shower going to his head. 

You hum and purposely grip your walls around him, squeezing for his last breath. 

Joel snarls and smacks your ass from below, watching the fatty flesh jiggle. It stings, but you like it, thinking about his large handprint marking you red. He winds his hips back up and presses in, groaning lowly as he fills you to the brim. 

He sets a decent pace, one that robs you of what air you have left in your lungs. Your entire body feels sensitive, your cheek growing sore from being fucked against the shower wall. But it feels entirely too good, a certain itch that only Joel Miller can scratch. 

Every thrust he makes, you moan his name like a broken record. “Joel, Joel, Joel,” you moan and grunt it so much, that it starts to sound like it’s not a real word anymore. 

You reach back an arm blindly, gripping his bicep and stitching your nails into his skin. 

Joel grunts out weakly, the burning sensation you caused on his arm making him go wild. He reaches for both of your wrists and plants them at the base of your back, forcing your face to be your only weight to keep you up against the shower. 

But it unlocks a new angle, one that has you crying out curses and his heavenly name. 

“Fuck me, Joel, fuck- fuck your favorite little pussy,” you mewl out, feeling his cock twitch inside you. 

“God dammit, fuck me good like that, like that,” your eyes clench close, panting heavily. “Right there, daddy, please, Mr. Miller, touch my clit, please,” you beg, the pet name rolling off your tongue. 

It makes him snarl. He sets a hellish pace. His chest puffs up, his broad biceps locking around you as his fingers stroke over your pussy. 

He loves the way you wind him up. Because you are his favorite young pussy, one he’s made his own, railing you so good that you forget about anyone else that may have had you before. 

All you know is Joel Miller. 

His thighs and lower tummy smack your ass cheeks, a distinct slapping sound filling the shower and pinging off the walls right back into your ears. 

Stars flutter behind your eyes, you feel light-headed. The water splashes warm across your back, allowing Joel even more slip. 

The harder he fucks you, the closer he moves in. Now he has his entire torso flushed against your back, flicking his hips up into you with precision. 

Suddenly he’s grabbing your leg by the underside of your knee, hiking it up, and planting it against the shower wall as he exposes a whole new sensation. 

You can’t last any longer. His fingers circle dangerously around your clit, and now he’s pounding you into the wall, forcing friction against his glorious thrusts. You whimper loudly as his tip kisses your cervix repeatedly, feeling your walls clench around him as you come. 

It’s jaw-dropping, heart-surging, mind-fucking how good he feels coming inside of you. It’s warm, warmer than the water still raining over you. It’s comforting the way his seed spreads throughout your core, his grunts filling the shower as he drops his last load inside of you. 

And goddamn, he loves how you milk him dry. 

You weakly slide down the wall, tiredly dropping your leg once he pulls out. 

“No ya’don’t.” Joel quickly says, snagging a strong arm around your waist and hauling you up. You whimper as he peels your face off the wall, blinking rapidly as he spins you to face him. “C’mere.” Joel embraces you, and you lean weakly into his front like a bear hug. 

“Water,” you whisper against his pec. He turns the shower temperature down, a more comforting heat surrounding you now. 

“You’re alright.” He assures. 

After time to recuperate, Joel reaches for the shampoo bottle, squirting a small amount into his palm and lathering it between his hands. You feel a little better standing, but you still stay wrapped up in his arms, in his hug. 

He massages the shampoo into your locks, gently massaging it against your scalp, before he gently washes the bubbles out. He gathers conditioner next, letting it soak into your ends.

You hide your smile against his chest, knowing that he probably had to learn this type of stuff for Sarah. Hair care, skin care, tampons and pads, all the sort of stuff single dads fear. You wonder whatever could have been in Sarah’s mother’s mind to leave a guy like Joel Miller. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, but he seemed to fit into your life like a glove right now. For however long that perfect fit would be.

A weak sigh leaves your lips as he strokes your head sweetly, his fingers then grazing your cheek. 

“Y��alright? Feel good?” 

You nod weakly and smile, letting your arms drop gently as you pull away. “M’tired.”

Joel stifles a chuckle and nods. “Me too, baby. Sit tight.” 

Once Joel is assured you’re not going to lose your strength standing up on your own, he shuts off the water and steps out of the shower, wrapping his towel low on his waist. You gaze at the lines around his hips, and how they dip down into his towel. 

You clear your throat as you quickly look away once he approaches you with two towels. He wraps one around your shoulders, gently moving his warm hands up and down the sides of your arms. 

You look so sweet, warm and cozy, cum-filled, at ease. The stress he usually sees you carrying around is wiped away. He hoped he had something to do with it. 

Joel leans down and presses a light kiss to your lips. Not hungry, not desperate, not chasing. Delicate. Assuring. 

You smile tiredly and shyly evade his eye contact, something that he hates to admit is goddamn adorable on you. 

Both of you towel dry off any remaining droplets of water. Joel forces you to show him how you even get the towel you wrap around your hair on your head. 

“This is girlhood, Joel Miller.” You say once you secure it on, watching him shake his head in disbelief. 

“A mystery to me.” He says with a boyish grin.

You both exit the steamy bathroom and search your bags for pajamas. You packed a few comfy shirts for bed. And only one extra pair of panties. You better be damn careful with your one last sacred pair. You toss it back into your pack for now, deciding that they would probably be taken off in the morning anyway. You slip under the covers of Joel’s bed, saving him a space you hope he fills. Of course, he does. 

Joel flips off the light switch, indulging the room in a black and blue hue. He grunts quietly as he slips into the covers. The both of you just melt into the mattress. 

You nuzzle into his side, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He makes gentle circles into your back as your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You sigh and turn your back to Joel to retrieve it from the charger. 

“Your parents askin’ if we made it okay?” Joel murmurs tiredly, eyes closed, waiting for you to return to his side. 

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s a text message from Nathan. 

Hey stranger

“Yeah,” you lie, your fingers gliding across the keyboard to configure a response. “They uh.. They’re tellin’ me to not bug you too much on the trip.” You awkwardly chuckle, your back still turned to him as you stare at Nathan’s message. 

Joel dryly chuckles as he reaches a hand out and settles it on your hip. “Quite the opposite.”

You feel terrible concealing this from Joel. But you don’t want him to think you were young and foolish letting your secret fling slip. This was to make things work, to keep the secret buried from your parents.

Another message from Nathan makes your phone buzz in your hand.

Heard you’re in Danbury for the summer with your folks. Wanna catch up? 

Your heart sits in your throat, shocked by his ask. 

You flip over your phone, opting to reply in the morning. You’re beat. You sigh weakly and return to Joel’s side, hiding your face in his shoulder as you gently kiss along the muscle. He was already passed out. 

As messy as this felt, being with Joel felt like being tossed a life jacket in open water. And you weren’t going to lose that safety, not if you could help it.

---

here's my masterlist!

follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!

[punkeropercyjackson]

🌊Percy Jackson headcanons🌊

Inspo from @jellyfilledeyes !!

🌊Afro-dominican.Monoracial darkskin and super strongfeatured,he literally looks exactly like Poseidon the 'lightskin Percy' crowd is illiterate.Full name Perseo Isadore Jackson

🌊Autistic.He's also literally the protagonist of the neurodivergent abuse victims series,y'all's denial is deeper than the sea

🌊Transfem bigender.Any pronouns + A hoard of neos and was on estrogen for a while but got no surgeries for extra gender fuckery

🌊Afrosolarpunk and knows how to diy things that don't even exist,does activism/charity and goes to riots/protests,is a straightedge and listens to Mcr,Teezo Touchdown,Megan Thee Stallion,Alt Black Era,The Cure and Meet Me @ The Altar

🌊Cut ties with Annabeth by Boo.Percabeth is 'destiny' by virtue of cisheteronormativity and amatonormativity textually and book!Annabeth is a bad person who needs to leave her alone for both their own good's

🌊Weird/niche interests king.She's into obscure podcasts,indie games,underrated cartoons,cult classic movies and non-corny musicals

🌊Was a Warrior Cats and Bubble Guppies kid

🌊Huge Superfam fan.That's why they compared Jason to Clark Kent as a compliment and knows like all the lore

🌊Platonic soulmates by choice in every universe with Nico and Hazel.Them and Nico spent the year gap between Botl and Tlo bonding and in Son Hazel turned them into a trio and Sally legally adopts her like she did Nico.Percy is their eldest brother and pseudo-dad

🌊Super into kidcore as trauma coping and also due to autism

🌊Loves Cotton Candy Bang,double cheeseburgers with loaded fries and blue flan

🌊Queerplatonic best friends with Rachel and their connection came from her being autistic too and never meeting anyone like her before him.She's a trans punk like her too and helped her transition and she basically lives at La Residencia Jackson part time

🌊Sally opened up a family bussiness:Familia Jackson Beach Shack.That's where his money comes from

🌊Except for Nico's chronic pain meds and mobility aids,which he guilttrips Poseidon for

🌊And Hazel gets to live the happy friendfilled childhood he didn't with his help

🌊Lego lover,Animal Crossing and Pokemon understander and Hot Topic hater

🌊Only part of Marvel he cares about is Spiderverse and his favorite Spiderpeople are Hobie Brown and Gwen Stacy because they're too much like her not to be

🌊Nico got him into cozy horror and Hazel got him into MLP(his favorite ponies are Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy and he knows Flutterdash is real and Wendell & Wild is his movie of all time)

🌊Unironically plays Fortnite

🌊His piercings are a standard eyebrow piercing,forward helix on both ears,a spider bite and a tongue ring

🌊Sharks are superior in his opinion

🌊Killed Luke and slowly did a revolution in the greco-roman mythos world with that as what got to ball rolling but it really hit when he killed Zeus a year post Hoo

🌊Supposed to have been Special ED to make friends and school easier but had a such a big meltdown when Sally offered at his 9 years old because his internalized ableism was already so bad and to this day they both regret it and wonder what could've been

🌊Underground shows and parties Percy's beloved

🌊Goes on petty crime sprees for fun and letting frustation out

🌊If Rick wasn't a pussy,his girlfriend would've been a sugary sweet but powerful asf black pastel punk girl who's got the same of sense of humor as him and undooms him from the narrative against everyone's pressured expectations(Ichihime dynamic is perfect for Percy)

[tokidokitokyo]

Podcast Review: Let's Talk in Japanese

Podcast Title: Let's Talk in Japanese!

Ease of Listening: ★★★★★

Length of Episodes: ★★★★★

Level of Engagement: ★★★★★

Episode Frequency: ★★★★★

Overall: ★★★★★

Today I will be reviewing the Let's Talk in Japanese! podcast by Tomo-sensei. This podcast is aimed at Japanese learners who want more chances to listen to spoken Japanese but using vocabulary and grammar that they can understand. The podcast is for levels N1 (the highest level) to N5 (the lowest level), but I would say that a majority of the content is focused on level N3 or N4.

Do I currently listen to this podcast?: Yes, I like this podcast a lot and listen to it frequently.

General Overview

Good For Levels: Beginner | Intermediate | Advanced

In this series, Tomo, a Japanese teacher for foreign students, discusses in Japanese only a variety of topics either selected by him or suggested by the audience. These can range from topics about daily life to JLPT related topics. He understandably discusses topics that he has a decent knowledge of, and admits when there are gaps. He is quite faithful to the level of each episode, which he indicates at the end of the episode title, so you can be sure that you will be able to understand the majority of the content or challenge yourself as the case may be.

Length of Episodes ★★★★★

The podcasts are usually around 10-15 minutes long. This is ideal for a quick listen when you are short on time or just want to supplement your studies, but may not be ideal if you are looking for something a bit longer. I usually listen to two or three podcasts in a row during my commute and feel like I've spent my time well. The short length can be useful if you are not interested in a particular topic, because you can make it to the end of the episode without losing interest and a new topic will come up with the next episode.

Level of Engagement ★★★★★

Although this is just one person (Tomo) talking throughout the podcast, he is engaging because he speaks as though he is talking to a small group. I find it engaging because I can, in the privacy of my room or car, reply to him when he poses questions, or make a response if I am surprised by what he says, etc. Even though it's not interactive per se, it can feel interactive because of the way he speaks in his podcast. I find myself engaged in most episodes, and the shorter length means I don't have to work as hard to stay engaged through the entire episode.

Episode Frequency ★★★★★

New podcasts come out about weekly, and sometimes more frequently than that. I have heard that he works very hard to put out the podcasts so frequently, and I think this intense schedule plus the large archive of material means you can listen almost indefinitely to this podcast.

Overall ★★★★★

This podcast is completely in Japanese and designed by a Japanese teacher for foreigners learning Japanese, and has material for everyone from beginners to advanced learners. The shorter episodes mean you can fit it into a busy schedule, and the JLPT labels mean you can pick and choose episodes based on your own level and be confident that you will get what you expect. I highly recommend this for those looking to improve their listening skills.

[red-might-be-dead]

hello hi here to force strange thoughts into your brain once again, this time about jrwi (wow who could’ve guessed)

been thinking about this for a little but it’s basically what i think some campaigns would be if not podcasts, i haven’t listened to some of the older ones so i’m sorry they’re not on here :(( if you have any ideas feel free to add them btw :DD

RIPTIDE!!!!! - really long animated series

not an anime though, no matter how much grizzly wants it, it would be an animation style where the characters could have very clearly different nose, face and body shapes, really pushing my riptide nose agenda here sorry, each episode would be like 20-40 minutes long and instead of coming out in seasons there would be massive gaps in between episodes, from 2-6 months long, to leave time for writers and animators to get stuff done (massive team of animators btw, i feel like it would be pretty successful)

PRIME DEFENDERS!! - comics

literally nothing else they could be, just really well made, well performing comics (i’ve already talked about this before you can stalk my talk tag if you really want to find it lmao), the comic company making them would be keeping well away from movies n shit btw

APOTHEOSIS!!! - i wasn’t really sure about this one to be honest

i had to ask my friend and she said anime which i don’t agree with but i can see it, i think maybe a short book series where each book is 150 - 300 pages and is about a different god they have to kill/a different episode, i think that works but if anyone has any better ideas please tell me :D!!

BLOOD IN THE BAYOU!!! - i hate to say it, i really do…

bitb would be a really long really good 80s horror book with strong homoerotic undertones, a satisfied fanbase and lots of active members in the community making fan comics, films, writing, theories and art ect… until well after the book came out……….. and then it would be made into the most egregious and awful live action movie you have ever seen, the most awful casting (like chris pratt as officer dudes….. throws up) and even worse sfx, oh yeah and the characters would be ruined and the story would become so butchered it wouldn’t make sense, they would do some shit like cut out becky so kian just kisses some random lady (removing both a really good and well written character and a layer of kian’s character that i think is super important) and make rolan really be an evil bug spy the whole time so rand has to kill him to save the town also add in a whole new sub plot that never existed like the rand family is secretly a long line of bug alien hunters or something fucking stupid like that and the entire fanbase would murder whoever thought re-writing the story was a good idea (ahaha can you tell ive been through something like this before ahahaha, character morals and motives being removed and whatnot ahahahhahahaha.)

anyways………

THE SUCKENING!!! - live action series

it would be well made though, unlike the bitb movie it would be its own original thing, have great makeup and effects also be well casted and well shot, well written, ect ect, it would bloody and gory and not suitable for people who can’t handle showing bones and organs all over everywhere, lots of shitty rip off merch would be made though and the fandom would be 99% gay little freaks (normal suckening enjoyers) and 1% homophobic straight white men who get mad whenever they see soda and emizel having gay sex on screen or whatever fag shit that biting thing was

again feel free to add your thoughts and ideas and shit in the reblogs it would be nice to read them :DD!!

[biggayenergypod]

Gap the Series Ep 1-2: Enchanted to Meet You

The show opens with Mon talking about being crazy in love...

...and then mentions Sam is her one and only idol and then plants a kiss on a photo of Sam… how does she not know she’s gay at this point?

Watch: https://youtu.be/_SE19_w5WEk

Listen: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/bgepod

[r0semultiverse]

Questions post-release of The Edge of Sleep

Is the dog okay? Did the dog also get possessed? Or are dogs exempt from sleep death and brain branding? The dog was in their cage for quite some hours, which may imply that dogs and potentially even other animals are immune to the beast.

Are possessed folks unable to die from blood loss or drowning so long as they have the mark of the beast?

Who else thinks the doctor isn’t actually dead (there were other doctors at the facility) and was suspiciously on-board with everything happening to Dave?

Is the doctor actually a host for the elephant (alternately just being influenced by it)? Yes, this is partially because his distorted voice in the sleep tube sounds the same as the beast, but the depictions of the beast in peoples dreams does get explained later as being different for everyone (probably based on environment).

Why was he trying to put the moves on Dave’s mom? Probably part of a manipulation tactic or he’s just weird and I’m overthinking his role in this.

What if this is all a dream and Dave is just stuck in one of those sleep pods still? We have yet to see a flashback where he’s a teenager of any sort which gives us a huge missing gap in his memories.

Another question relating to the previous ones is why did Dave see Matteo(?) and Katie(? or is that Linda?) in the sleep pod dream world place very briefly in the the trailer? EDIT: Okay so whoever that is next to Katie/Linda in the cut footage seems to be someone else who would succumb to or almost drink the beast juice (sorry, I didn't know what else to call it).

Are their IRL selves in on it? (this seems silly in hindsight, but I'm not deleting it)

ACTUALLY YEAH JUST IGNORE THESE TWO PREVIOUS ONES ONES, THIS WAS CUT TRAILER FOOTAGE, I WAS TIRED.

Is Dave in a coma and all of this has been one big dream fantasy he’s been in for a long time? If so, how long?

Much like the question of “is the dog important,” is the doctor’s memories when he was talking about his trauma important? Will that come up later given the talk of a season 2 for the original podcast?

Does the Elephant’s host bodies feel pain or is it zombie rules and they’re basically just drones that’ll keep going as long as they have some means to move around?

Do y’all think we’ll get a season 2? The series is pretty good as a stand alone thing imo that kinda lets you fill in the blanks, but I personally would like to see more in some capacity.

What did the dream people mean by “power?” Is Dave capable of the occult?

Does the Beast have access to its host bodies memories and motor skills? We see Katie’s body walking through the water. Could the beast hypothetically fly a plane if it got the right host body to do so? Could it control an entire military fleet?

What is the doctor’s connection to the supernatural happenings of this reality?

Was Markiplier the voice of the blue Modafalyst pill and the voice over of the ad that was playing on the TV in the hospital?

Was the doctor trying to get his loved ones back through the sleep pods like how Dave got that pen into reality from his dream?

How come all of the surviving main cast has had some sort of government or implied government-related job position? Was that intentional?

Each of the surviving main cast also has a double letter placement in their names too, intentional perhaps? This one is probably a reach, but I thought it was interesting!

Why did only one guy foam at the mouth when he "died?"

Why is there a difference between the pill colors in the trailer and in the final release of the show? We're the colors going to be swapped initially? Is it or was it maybe supposed to be a Matrix reference?

Also did Dave's mom seem a little too okay with what was going on at times? Does that have to do with the doctor trying to put the charm on her? Although having someone finally listen to your child's issues and have a clue about what's going on would put you in a vulnerable position, also single mom seemingly.

Who did Dr. Luis Castaneda lose and why did a dream person show up? Was that someone who left him to go live on Aristera for one purpose or another?

How many hours was Dave awake in total? So far 87 seems to be a close enough guess, somewhere in that area.

How are the dream people able to teleport into Mark's dream? How is the beast able to get into anyone's dream now that I think about it.

[mariacallous]

Over the past few weeks, Vice President Kamala Harris and former president Donald Trump have both made some huge plays to attract specific groups of men: young ones, in Trump’s case, and white ones, in Harris’.

Harris’ supporters have been hosting huge Zoom calls organizing “white dudes,” while Trump’s made appearances on a wide assortment of fratty podcasts and livestreams. The campaigns’ strategies with these voters are completely different, and they’re each creating their own vision for what masculinity could look like in their parties.

Let’s talk about it.

How Trump and Walz Are Redefining Masculinity

Before this week, Adin Ross, the 23-year-old streamer, had been known for playing NBA 2K, allegedly inadvertently tipping off authorities about accused rapist and human trafficker Andrew Tate’s plans to flee Romania, and getting kicked off Twitch for spewing slurs and hosting the white nationalist Nick Fuentes. This is certainly not the best résumé when applying to become a political commentator, but it was enough for Donald Trump to stream with him for more than an hour at his Mar-a-Lago home on Monday in what equated to a virtual campaign stop, complete with Ross apparently committing a campaign finance violation by gifting Trump with a gaudily-decorated Cybertruck.

The Ross stream is just the latest in a series of streams, podcasts, and TikTok appearances Trump has made with a specific subset of hypermasculine creators who cater to an audience of politically disaffected young men. Trump has long catered to this group, acknowledging their support across fringe parts of the internet in the run-up to his election as president in 2016. But this cycle, he’s engaging with them more directly—appearing, for example, at UFC events—in the apparent belief that this will help turn out younger voters.

The partisan gap between young men and women voters has nearly doubled over the past 25 years, with men growing increasingly more conservative, according to recent polls. With these numbers, you’d think Trump would have little to worry about with this demographic, but some experts suggest that despite this growing divide, the likelihood of young men between the ages of 18 and 29 actually going to the polls might be low.

“He’s trying to pull out base intensity. These young men often don't vote, especially the newcomers to the field,” says Rachel Kleinfeld, a fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. “Getting them to care enough to come vote—it's easier if it's something more emotional. All politics runs on emotion.”

She continued: “Most cultures have rites of passage to grow up. It's not an easy thing to do, and we don't in America. And we lost, for a generation, a lot of traditional role models … What we got in their place were these internet influencers and celebrities whom a lot of people aspire to be now.”

Democrats are attempting to create their own contrasting vision for masculinity in light of Trump embracing these creators. Last week, Mike Nellis, a Democratic digital strategist, helped organize the White Dudes for Harris organizing call, where dozens of white male politicians and celebrities spoke to thousands of their white male counterparts about voting for Harris. Throughout the call, many of the speakers—including Harris’ veep pick, Tim Walz—made the case for these same disaffected young men to abandon the Republican Party.

“I think that there are millions and millions of white dudes in this country who are sick and tired of MAGA politics and who reject Project 2025 and need a model and permission structure for something else, and so that’s what we’re doing with White Dudes for Harris,” says Nellis.

Nellis saw Harris’ decision to bring Walz onto her ticket as another play at attracting white male voters. “The guy's a father, and what would be like a ‘real man’ on paper. But here he is supporting and advocating for women's rights. He's campaigning for a woman of color for president. He's talking about ending gun violence,” says Nellis. “There are new models out there, and so I think that there's a fight over what it means to be a man.”

“We've had a cultural problem with young men for a number of years that is now becoming a political problem, and both parties are recognizing it,” says Kleinfeld.

Back in 2019, I profiled a YouTuber named Joey Salads who was running for a Staten Island House seat against Nicole Malliotakis. He never stood a chance at winning, but his Instagram model girlfriend, nice cars, and 10 million followers convinced him he had a shot. Salads admired Trump, seeing him as someone for whom the rules also did not apply in the pursuit of money and success.

4chan incels and hypermasculine YouTube pranksters had been viewing Trump as a role model even before the former president was elected. In 2024, those influencers and brainrotted forum posters have more influence than ever, and they’re paying it forward to the man who made it all possible.

“In a way, they’re kind of like post-incels, having overcome some of their inceldom with fame and followers but retaining the resentments and insecurities that get expressed in bizarre ways,” Jack Z. Bratich, a communications expert and professor at Rutgers University, tells me. “It’s possible Trump’s campaign is trying to extend their reach with these types, or else they are just seeking to increase the voting numbers of young men and happen to have stumbled upon this new mutation of online youth.”

Around 49 percent of young white men voted in the 2020 election, according to data from the Center for American Women and Politics. That’s a nine point increase from 2016.

[swedetastic]

Hi tumblr people. Let me present to you... my Alex Horne/Josh Widdicombe ship manifesto.

(It's basically just a collection of shippy moments, or "evidence")

AKA the ship that nobody asked for but I'm gonna keep captaining the sail boat.

This interview. (It's not that shippy, I just think they're cute.)

Josh being mock-offended, and Alex’s lip bite smile back. 🫠 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Alex? (@britcomshotsbutmostlyhorne)

Josh becoming one of Greg’s *cough* Alex’s special little boys.

Josh sitting next to Alex during this task, sharing the meal together😊

Popping the balloon near Josh like a schoolyard bully.

Josh using “Alex Horne’s naked body” as a frame of sexual reference (Greg’s words).

(and Alex's reaction)

The blindfolding for no reason. (I mean it was part of the task, but why did Alex have to do it for him?)

The fact that Josh was brought in to do this task in the first place.

The eyebrow raise and “hello, Alex” (really every time Josh says "Hello, Alex")

Singling out Josh’s “nub” 😅

Alex devouring Josh’s mask.

And the fact that Josh made a mask to look like Alex. (Which is hilarious, but also–why?)

Every time they’ve kissed. (that we know of)

🥰

Josh announcing their “incredible chemistry”. Again, for no reason.

This quote:

“He’s good at being enthusiastic. He is like a puppy. As he had the longest gap between series one and doing this, he was the most excited to be back and desperate to do a task. I think he has a ‘never say die’ attitude although he’s probably less good in the creative ones. His big weakness would probably be the hair. It’s just unrealistic.”— Little Alex Horne rating Josh’s Taskmaster: Champion of Champions performance (x)

This task.

And finally, this story. Because it's the sweetest thing ever. 🥹

So yeah I'm writing fic of these two, and I've commissioned two art pieces of them so far. You can see it all here, if you want:

(None of the gifs or anything in this post are mine. Credit to all the original owners!)

[what-even-is-thiss]

Hey do you have any literature recommendations for people who want to broaden their knowledge on the classics and Greek/Roman myths without taking university courses?

So like for people (such as myself) who have read Bullfinch's Myths of Greece and Rome and Edith Hamilton's Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes but want to deepen their knowledge and maybe go to intermediate level type stuff. Or whatever the level above the mentioned literature is.

Well those two books are quite old and skip over quite a few things. Both are very important to our culture, historically, but I'd recommend reading through some more modern popular retellings like Stephen Fry's Mythos series if you're looking for pure entertainment and a dummy's guide to Greek myths.

The Penguin Dictionary of Classical Mythology is a useful reference book if you have difficulty keeping track of all these names and whatnot. It's just a reference book but you know. Having a reference book handy is quite useful. I personally prefer reference books when it comes to checking stuff when I'm doing mythology things anyways. They're generally more organized than the internet.

If you're looking for entertaining retellings of less popular myths, I'd actually recommend going to videos and podcasts for that. YouTubers like MonarchsFactory, Overly Sarcastic Productions, Jake Doubleyoo, and Mythology & Fiction Explained are all people who do a lot of research themselves on the myths they retell and I would recommend all of them to basically anybody. As far as podcasts go, Mythology & Fiction Explained has a podcast version and Let's Talk About Myths, Baby! is a very informative podcast that talks about sources for the myths and has interviews with experts on the subjects. It's also a podcast that is specifically Greco-Roman based.

As far as doing slightly more in-depth research, I cannot recommend theoi.com enough. I really can't. It has overviews of the most common myths, it has pages about god and hero cults, it cites it's sources and has an online library of translated texts. It's just really good. Go clicking around it for a while. It's a lot of fun if you're into that sort of thing.

As far as primary sources for myths go, there's a few places you could start. The Iliad, perhaps. The most recent English translation is by Caroline Alexander but I personally prefer Stanley Lombardo's translation. The Odyssey is a more accessible read in my opinion if you're not used to reading epic poetry. Emily Wilson's translation is especially accessible, written in iambic pentameter and generally replicating Homer's simple conversational language.

The third traditional entrance into the epic cycle of the surviving literature is the Aeneid. The newest translation of that is by Shadi Bartsch, which is pretty good, but it reads more like prose than poetry. Would still highly recommend it though. Robert Fitzgerald's translation is also good.

If you wanna get fancy you can read the Post-Homerica which attempts to bridge the gap between the Iliad and the Odyssey. It's not often read but it's one of the latest pagan sources we have from people who still practiced ancient Greek religion.

If you want a collection of short stories from ancient times, Ovid's your guy. Metamorphosis is specifically Roman and specifically Ovid's fanfiction, but it's also a valid primary resource and Ovid generally views women as people. What a concept!

Though I think the absolute best overview from ancient times itself is The Library aka Biblioteca by pseudo-apollodorus. Doesn't matter what translation you get. The prose is simple to the point where it's difficult to screw it up. Not artistic at all. It is, quite simply, a guy from ancient times trying to write down the mythological history of the world as he knew it. It has a bunch of summaries of myths in it, and most modern printings also have a table of contents so you can essentially use it as a reference book or a cheat sheet. I love it.

The Homeric Hymns weren't actually written by Homer but that's what they're called anyways. They're a lovely bit of poetry because, well, they were originally hymns. They've got some of the earliest full tellings of the Hades and Persephone story and the birth of Hermes in them. They also provide an insight into how ancient people who were most devoted to these gods viewed them. Go read the Homeric Hymns. They're lovely. You can buy the Michael Crudden translation or you can read a public domain translation online. I don't care. Just read them.

If you're into tedious lists, the next place I'd recommend you go after you read all the fun stuff is Hesiod's Theogony. Hesiod, the red pill douchebag of the ancient world, decided he was gonna write down the genealogy of all the Greek gods. That means lists. I'm not exaggerating. Be prepared for a lot of lists. But this work also has the earliest and one of the most complete versions of the story of Pandora, the creation of humans, and the most popular version of the Greek creation myth. So, it's very useful. If you can take all the lists.

The Argonautica aka the voyage of the argo by Apollonius of Rhodes, is also here. That is also a thing you can read. About the golden fleece and whatnot. And Jason. You know Jason. We all hate Jason.

Greek theatre also provides a good overview of specific myths. The three theben plays, Medea, the Bacche, etc. We've only got thirty-something surviving plays in their entirety so like... look up the list. Find one that looks interesting. Read it. Find a performance of it online, maybe. They're good.

If you want to dive into the mythology as a religion that was practiced, Greek Religion by Walter Burkurt and Ancient Greek Cults: A Guide by Jennifer Larson are pretty good books on the topic and often used as textbooks in college courses.

If you wanna get meta and get a feel for what the general public today thinks about Greek myths and what the average person that's sort of knowledgeable about Greek myths knows, the books you already mentioned are good. That's what people usually read. In addition to those, most people's intro to Greek myths generally involves The Complete World of Greek Mythology by Richard Buxton, D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths by Ingri and Edgar Parin d’Aulaire, or The Percy Jackson series.

I've been flipping through the big stacks of mythology books I keep on my table trying to remember if I've forgotten anything but I don't think I have so, yeah. Hope this helps. There's no correct starting point here. Once you get started there's a nearly endless void of complications and scholarship you can fall down that you'll never reach the bottom of. This post is basically just a guide to the tip of the iceberg.

[holllandtrash]

synopsis here | masterlist | word count: 6.3k | spotify playlist chapter 1 of sky's on fire [ an f1 love-triangle story ]

“People have already compared you to the likes of Lewis Hamilton…” “You’re set to finish third in the F2 series…” “How soon can you expect the call to move to F1…”

Red stood off to the side, watching Kingston chat to the podcast hosts sitting on the couch opposite of him. Kingston was relaxed, answering the questions that were thrown at him with ease. He had gone through hours and hours of media training, but on top of that, he was a natural in the spotlight. 

Of course Red was proud of him. With this being his first year in F2, it was impossible to ignore the way he quickly rose through the ranks of the seasoned drivers. Kingston was on a mission, he wanted to be noticed, especially by those in Formula 1.

He was ending off the 2022 season with a high note. Only two races left, Monza this weekend and then Abu Dhabi in November. It was unlikely that her brother would be surpassed by any of the other drivers. There was enough of a gap that unless something drastic happened, Kingston Diaz would claim third place as his.

“Lewis Hamilton, huh?” Red teased, playfully shoving him with maybe a bit too much force but as his older sister, she had a right to mess with him. Kingston rolled his eyes in response, but she could tell that the compliment went right to his head, he just couldn’t let it show until they left the studio.

Which is why Red waited until they were outside to bring it up. Kingston no longer needed to put on the persona of a racing driver, no longer needed to uphold the standards he had given to himself when driver mode was on. Here, the two of them blended with other visitors and tourists. They could be themselves, Kingston could get excited over the idea that people in the motorsport world saw him as the next generation's Lewis Hamilton.

“He’s my idol,” Kingston admitted, as if this was something Red didn’t already know. “What if I get a spot in Formula 1 while he’s still racing? That would be-” he exhaled, that award winning smile appearing on his face said more than the rest of his sentence ever would.

“It’s possible,” she said, not letting herself think about it too much, at least not the same extent he was.

Red was familiar with Formula 1, she was raised on it thanks to her mother introducing it to her father when they started dating years ago. Hence why Kingston was now a driver. He would never go as far to say this career path was pushed on him, but if he took a step back he might come to the realisation that he was never really given any other choice.

But this path has worked for him, so there was no need to question it. And Red was happy enough to just be along for the ride when she could.

“2024,” Kingston nodded, clapping his hands together. “That’s the goal. Have an F1 seat for 2024.”

Red didn’t say anything in response. Her brother always dreamt big and it was better to just support him with a smile and a nod than to try and bring him back down to earth. She wasn’t necessarily a pessimist but she saw the world for how it was, and realistically speaking, Kingston getting offered a seat for the 2024 season was extremely unlikely, especially with a few teams already making drastic changes to their line up for next year.

She let him go off about the possibilities until they reached the car that was parked just down the street. Kingston smiled at the few people who were admiring the sleek McLaren GT and maybe he was a little arrogant when he pulled out his keys and unlocked the doors.

It’s on loan, Red wanted to yell and completely burst his bubble, but she climbed in the passenger seat without saying a word, letting her brother have his moment. 

“I just have a few more media obligations at the paddock and then we’re free for the rest of the day,” he assured her as the car roared to life. Red didn’t have any plans anyway, she never did during race weekends. Her job was to be the supportive sister and that was a role she happily stepped into.

So she stood on the sideline again, a prominent smile on her face as she watched Kingston and his teammate participate in some sort of challenge that she didn’t really understand and by the looks of it, neither did the drivers.

Red was proud of her brother, truly. She loved watching him thrive and the excitement he carried on race weekends was contagious. That was why she tried to go to as many races as she could. It was impossible to worry about anything with Kingston’s smile lighting up the paddock, before and after each of his sessions, regardless of his standings.

He was carefree and optimistic. Two things that Red knew she was not. So the more time she spent around him the better it was for her own sake.

By the time they finished filming, Kingston said he wanted to quickly look at some of the footage, and no one ever said no to him, so Red told him that she’d just meet him outside the media building. 

She walked out and noticed that during their time inside, the sun had started to set and was no longer beaming down on them with horrid heat. Red pulled the sunglasses off of her head and unzipped the bag that rested over her chest. 

Multitasking was not something she excelled at and with the couple of steps she had to walk down, Red looked up from her bag to make sure she wouldn’t trip. 

Red wished she was joking when she said that time slowed as two F1 drivers walked by her. While she attended as many of King’s races as she could, it was rare she ever interacted with anyone outside his team, let alone Formula 1 drivers. 

Completely forgetting about the sunglasses she was fumbling to fit into the belt bag strapped over her shoulder, she spotted the drivers and that’s when her world stopped.

And Red didn’t believe in love at first sight, she had followed that path hopelessly once before and it only left her in heartbreak, but this was different.

She looked up and locked eyes with him and she knew that damage was done.

Because that’s what it was. An accident waiting to happen. 

Red knew that nothing good was going to come from this chance encounter because her attention went directly to the driver with dark brown hair and green eyes, but it was the one with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that stopped walking so he could talk to her.

He was a man with a mission. His knew what he wanted since he spotted her walking out of the media building. The one in red, however, did a double take as he looked up at her, then at his phone and then snapped his head up once more when he saw the girl that was about to pass him. As if not believing that someone like her was truly in front of him, like she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

Red, this whole time, didn’t even think about the one who was actually giving her attention until he stopped walking and said something, his hand brushing over her arm to keep her from going any further as well.

“Hi,” he said, his lips curling upwards to show off a dangerous smile. “Sorry to stop you, but may I ask who you're here with?”

Red looked over her shoulder, expecting her brother to be behind her but he must not have followed immediately, probably still watching the footage. 

“Kingston,” she answered, gesturing with her thumb to the doors of the media building. “Diaz, sorry. Kingston Diaz, The F2 driver. He’s my brother.”

He looked more optimistic when she said those words. My brother. She wasn’t there with a partner, which was why he felt confident enough to extend his hand and introduce himself.

“I’m Pierre,” his smile had yet to fade. The more Red stared at it, at him, the more she thought to herself that this man was going to be trouble. 

But she shook his hand, ignoring the sirens and the flashing red lights going off in the back of her head. A choice that she would one day regret.

“Red,” she smiled back, eyes darting to his friend. She knew who Pierre was, he didn’t need to introduce himself, just like Charles Leclerc also didn’t need to introduce himself. And he probably wouldn’t have, had she kept her gaze on Pierre.

“Charles,” he waited until Pierre dropped her hand so he could shake it as well, maybe holding on a second longer than his friend did but no one was going to comment on that, even if they all noticed. “I’m sorry, your name is Red?”

This was a common question. Red wished she had the confidence and the charisma to make a joke about her parents name choosing skills. She wished she could say something witty, something that would make these two prestigious men standing before her crack a smile or laugh.

But Red went with the safe route. She wasn’t in Monza to make any sort of impression, she was there to support her brother.

“It’s my initials,” she clarified. 

Charles asked before Pierre could and then ignored the sliver of annoyance in his friend's features, focusing on the girl in front of him instead, “So what is your name?”

“Well, Red,” she said again. “I’ve been called that my entire life, anything else would just sound foreign.” She swallowed, wondering why she was wasting time and not even answering his question properly. “Sorry, it’s River. But again, no one calls me that.”

“Red,” Pierre said with a nod, toying with the idea of what it would be like to hear himself say it more often. He didn’t hate it. 

His line of sight darted downwards for a quick second, she caught it. The subtle way he checked her out. She didn’t hate that. While her initial attraction was for Charles, the Ferrari driver seemed to be stuck in his thoughts and the idea of making any sort of move took a backseat.

Pierre took advantage of his friend's hesitation.

“Well Charles sees enough red to last a lifetime, whereas I unfortunately don’t,” Pierre licked his lips as a faint chuckle passed through them. “Are you free tonight?”

Red, not used to the idea that someone with as high of a status as Pierre Gasly would be interested in her, actually looked over shoulder, expecting to see a much prettier, well-versed and confident girl behind her. But there was no one.

“You’re asking me out?” Maybe that wasn’t the best response, but it earned another laugh from the French driver. Charles chuckled as well, but his sounded a bit more forced. 

“I am,” he was so poised, so sure of his response whereas Red was fumbling.

“Oh,” she nodded and then another, “Oh- I mean, yes. Yes, I’m free.”

“Perfect,” Pierre was pleased with her answer. “I assume you’re staying in Milan?”

“The Four Seasons,” she confirmed. 

“Great. Meet me in the lobby at seven.”

It wasn’t a question, nor a suggestion. Pierre was telling her where to be at what time and Red, in that moment, admired the confidence. She didn’t see it as a telling sign that this would be a recurring theme. She simply nodded, still in awe and confusion as the two of them turned around and kept walking.

Red waited a second before making a move anywhere and because the soles of her shoes were seemingly frozen to the ground as she processed what just happened, she caught the way Charles turned over his shoulder, wanting to take one last quick look at the girl that Pierre was taking out on a date because he couldn’t find his words fast enough.

By the time Kingston did leave the media building, he noticed the way his sister was seemingly starstruck.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I might as well have,” Red shook her head. The last few minutes didn’t feel real. If someone told her she dreamt it, she would believe them. “I got asked out.”

Kingston snorted, wondering how that could have happened in the short amount of time he was stuck inside, “By who?”

She looked down the paddock but the two drivers were already long gone. A sharp inhale was all she could provide at first when she looked at Kingston, trying to guess how he would respond to the idea of her going out with a driver.

“Pierre Gasly.”

His reaction was not one she could have anticipated. It was evident with his expression alone that he didn’t believe her and when he continued walking down the paddock, Red walked at his side, explaining what had happened in the last couple of minutes to the best of her ability. 

It wasn’t until they climbed into the car did it finally click for Kingston that she was being honest. AlphaTauri driver, soon to be Alpine driver, Pierre Gasly was in fact taking his sister out on a date. 

Being a few years younger than Red, Kingston wasn’t sure if he was allowed to have an opinion, if he was allowed to take on the protective brother role. The uncertainty behind whether or not Red would even listen was what convinced him to keep his mouth shut at the end of it. 

But he had heard things about the French driver. Rumours, gossip really, that he wasn’t someone who lasted long in relationships. His name was attached to the words infidelity and dishonesty, but if Kingston had heard such things, surely his sister must have as well. 

And Red was an adult. She could make her own choices. Kingston knew she was smart, maybe a little naive and had some hopeless romantic tendencies, but he hoped that after a few years, she had learned from her previous relationships. 

She didn’t talk about her partner from highschool, but at this point it had been almost seven years. While being cheated on was something that would always haunt her, no matter how old she got, she had moved on from the toxicity of her first boyfriend. 

And then there was ‘the phase’ as Kingston called it. The time in her life where she would be with any guy who showed her a fraction of attention. She treated them far better than any of them ever treated her, but Red was at a point in her life where she didn’t know how to thrive in being alone. She was dependent on male figures, usually older.

Once, Kingston called her out on it, using the term ‘daddy issues’ and he didn’t use it loosely either. Growing up in the same household, Kingston had seen the lack of attention she received from their father, he saw the disconnect, he saw how hard she worked for his approval and praise.

When she got older, instead of trying to find reconciliation with their father, she moved on to searching for what was missing in partners. Kingston pointed out that a lot of the men she was with were the same as their dad. Mirroring Arlos’ emotionally unavailable and toxic traits. It shouldn’t have come to a surprise when Red brushed the idea off, she had done the same with her dad for years. Never wanting to accept that her issues were so deeply rooted in her childhood and were now affecting the way she sought out partners.

There was only ever one boyfriend of hers that Kingston approved of. He was also the only one who ever met their parents as Red knew he was one to show off, one to be proud of. He treated her right and it was heartbreaking for nearly everyone in her life when they called it off. 

But it was the long distance that proved to be too challenging to overcome. If he was in Europe that would be one thing, but with Red living in London and Mason’s career being based out of LA, it wasn’t destined to last. 

She had been single since then, trying to grow in this new chapter she found herself in and spending most of 2021 and up until now, all of 2022 by herself. It was good for her, everyone agreed. 

Ultimately, that’s why Kingston kept quiet, muttering a reminder to ‘be careful, is all’ when she said that she was going to go on the date with Pierre. He trusted she could take care of herself, that she had learned the lessons required to find happiness with someone, someone that wouldn’t drain her. The rumours about him were just that, rumours. He had no idea what Pierre was actually like in a relationship and he had faith in his sister that if things become difficult, she would leave. Having Mason as a reminder of what a healthy relationship looked like, Kingston wasn’t as worried about Red as he would have been years ago.

Red chose a black dress for her date, nothing scandalous but it was form fitting and off the shoulder. The gold necklace she wore matched her earrings and rings and stood out beautifully against her tanned skin. Her hair took a bit more effort and when the Milan heat proved to be pointless to fight against, she opted for pulling her hair back into a high ponytail. 

She could have headed down to the lobby of the hotel when she finished getting ready ten minutes to seven, but she waited, not wanting to seem too eager. Of course, with her luck, everyone seemed to be needing the elevator when she pressed the button and Red didn’t end up stepping foot onto the main floor until a little after the designated time.

Unsure where to look for her date, she just headed towards the front of the hotel. She glanced towards the couches, the doors and then finally looked at the bar that seemed to be quite full for a Wednesday evening.

She didn’t see Pierre, but she did see Charles.

Any other given evening, Red would not have gone up to him to start a conversation. She didn’t know the Monegasque driver,  they exchanged only a few words in the paddock and he was not the one she was going on a date with.

But he spotted her and with an inviting smile, waved her over to the bar top. Red hesitated, naturally, glancing over her shoulder to see if Pierre was nearby but again, he wasn’t in sight. So she crossed the lobby of the hotel and stepped into the connected restaurant, greeting Charles with a smile of her own. He straightened up instead of leaning against the bar top. 

“Pierre got a phone call not even twenty seconds ago,” Charles explained, doing his best to keep his eyes up even though all he wanted was to admire the way she looked in the dress. “He just stepped out to answer it, I can assure you, you weren’t stood up.”

Red laughed, “Honestly the thought didn’t cross my mind, but thank you for clarifying.” She looked around, not feeling awkward but definitely feeling a little out of place. Her comfort zone was F2 drivers, and even then she didn’t know many of them. When her eyes landed back on Charles, they both opened their mouths to say something and then simultaneously shut them.

Charles dipped his head, “You first.”

“Oh I was just curious as to what you were doing here, is all,” she said. “Are you staying in this hotel?”

“Ah, no,” Charles admitted. “Meeting a friend who’s staying here. It was convenient, honestly, that Pierre was also coming by. We just took the same car.”

“You two are- you’re friends, right?” Red asked and then felt the heat rise up to her cheeks. “I mean, I know you’re both drivers but you two are actually friends outside the races, right? Or was that just a bullshit article I read on twitter?”

He glanced down at the drink resting on the bar top and chuckled, “No, no we are friends. We grew up racing together.”

Red wasn’t sure if that information made this scenario easier or harder. She knew she was going on a date with Pierre, so the fact that she felt a pull of attraction towards Charles, his lifelong friend, was not ideal. Red did her best to ignore it, even taking a step back to create a bigger gap between them. Because that was the respectful thing to do, right? 

She should have been thankful when Charles’ eyes darted behind her. Red turned as well, seeing that it was Pierre who caught his attention. 

He looked nice, a pair of black slacks and a white linen shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease what laid beneath the material. The sleeves were rolled up his elbows and he adjusted the black watch on his wrist as he smiled at Red and Charles. 

“You look beautiful,” Pierre greeted her, hand going to her back. “Sorry, I had to take a call. I promise I usually have much better time management.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry,” she said, taking in his sharp features. Pierre was devilishly handsome, there was no denying that. If he wasn’t smiling or talking, his lips fell into a natural smirk, drawing her in like he had a secret to tell. 

Pierre patted his friend’s arm, “Thanks for keeping her company. Are you ready to go?” He nodded his head towards the front of the hotel. 

Red stepped away from the bar and closer to Pierre as he told her he made reservations at Sadler, a restaurant she was unfamiliar with as she had only ever spent a handful of days in Milan over the course of the last few years and eating at a Michelin-star restaurant was never on her list of things to do.

As Pierre was in the middle of telling Red that it was a short walk away from the hotel she halted and quickly turned back around, remembering that Charles also had a thought that he didn’t get to share. She pointed a finger at him, “You were trying to say something earlier before I asked why you were at the hotel-”

Charles waved it off, glancing at Pierre. “It’s nothing, I was just-” another look at Pierre, this time with caution. “I was just going to say you look lovely, is all.”

“Oh,” she felt the flutter in her chest, something she didn’t feel when Pierre complimented her. Again, she didn’t dwell on it. “Thank you and, uhm-” Pierre was waiting. “Have a good night.”

Pierre confirmed that she was alright walking in heels for a few minutes, offering to order a car if she preferred, but Red wasn’t one to complain and the restaurant wasn’t far, only a block up and over. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she went on a date so the only word to describe her for the first few minutes after sitting down at the table was awkward. Whereas Pierre’s aura was nothing but cool and confident. 

“Tell me about yourself,” Pierre said after the waiter had come by and poured them both a glass of wine. Red wasn’t a huge drinker, but she happily took a sip of the drink before answering. It didn’t ease her nerves instantly, but maybe by the time she finished the glass she’d be comfortable.

That was a loaded question though, one that Red didn’t even know how to start answering. The people she met usually cared about her brother and his career. Red was used to the spotlight being on him, even if he was nowhere around.

Now that she was given the opportunity to talk freely about herself, prompted by Pierre fucking Gasly, Red blanked.

Pierre noticed the hesitation, he could see the gears grinding behind her eyes as she tried to think of what to say. He found amusement in that and chuckled, changing the topic.

“Okay, what if you just tell me where you’re from.”

That she could do, “Birmingham,” she answered, feeling her cheeks flush. “But I moved to London after I finished highschool and I’ve been there since.”

“And what do you do there?”

She grimaced, “This is going to sound really pretentious, but I’m a model.”

“I don’t think it’s pretentious,” Pierre assured her. “I think it’s fitting though, you are beautiful. I’d buy whatever you’re selling.”

“No but I’m probably the worst model,” Red laughed before taking another sip of her drink. “I’m so painfully awkward in front of the camera and I don’t get booked for half of the jobs my agent sends me to. I’ll show up to the set and the director takes one look at me and sends me home,” she laughed again and Pierre joined in, both of them happy to find a little humour in her dilemmas. 

“Why don’t you switch career paths then?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows atop the table and clasping his hands together. The eye contact he held intimated her, but she knew it was impolite to keep looking away. 

“Well I don’t hate it, I just wish I was better at it,” Red told him, fingers twirling around the stem of her wine glass. “I think because Kingston is a natural in front of the cameras and talking to the media, people assume I’m the same way but I’m very…I don’t know, not as confident as I’d like to be, I guess.”

Pierre could have asked something about her brother, she had practically opened the door for him to, but he seemed to gloss right over the mention of Kingston, instead asking another question about her job which led into a discussion about travelling and by the time their entrees came, Red was telling Pierre that if she could move to Spain, she would. 

They talked about the languages they spoke, Red had him beat. Pierre knew three, she knew four. She said she’d teach him Spanish and if he taught her Italian, Pierre agreed to that deal. 

He spoke about Formula 1, but not for very long. Red was surrounded by motorsport just by following Kingston and as interested as she was to learn about Pierre, there was more to him than just his career. 

Red enjoyed talking to him. Once she got past the stage of not knowing what to say, conversation between them flowed naturally. He was a good listener, he asked follow up questions to learn more, he had an interest in what she had to say and the stories she shared.

But there was no spark.

Even though he made her laugh, even though he made her feel comfortable, even though he truly seemed to care to get to know her, Red didn’t feel that overwhelming urge to see him again. 

She wanted to like him, but this wasn’t something she could force. This also wasn’t something she was going to continue on the off chance she’d feel something down the road nor was it fair to be with him solely because of his name and status. 

Which is why, at the end of their evening, which was a delightful evening, Red turned down the invitation to go home with him. They stood outside the doors of the restaurant, the sun had set at this point and she used the light coming from the street lamps and nearby establishments to make out the solemn expression Pierre wore.

He wasn’t offended that she had said no, that she would rather go back to her hotel room alone instead of spending the night with him. He also didn’t try to pressure her into changing her answer, only told her that he was still going to walk her back to the Four Seasons. He could take the rejection, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let her walk back alone.

By the time they made it to the front foyer of the hotel, Pierre reached for her hand to keep her from going through the double doors. His eyes searched her face, trying to find the answer to what had happened this evening.

“Did I do something?” Pierre asked her. 

She let out a breath of a laugh, “No, Pierre, you were a total gentleman all night.” 

“Did you have fun?”

“I did.”

“So would it be wildly inappropriate if I asked you out on a second date?” His mischievous grin made a return. 

Red knew she should have said no. If she didn’t feel a deep enough connection with him after sharing a table for two hours, and splitting a dessert, there was a strong chance she wouldn’t feel anything after the second date either. 

But saying ‘no’ was something she struggled with. Even just turning down his offer to go home with him gave her a wave of anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to get on someone's bad side and that included Pierre even if she never planned on seeing him again. 

Except there was something about his piercing blue eyes and bright features that made it challenging to turn down twice. Was she a pushover? Maybe, but that was a conversation she chose not to have with herself right now. Instead, she forced herself to look at in a way that painted Pierre as persistent instead of herself as spineless.

“Okay,” she said. “One more date,” as if she was giving the ultimatum here when the reality was, Red would much rather see someone else happy even if it meant putting herself in an uncomfortable position. 

She told herself that it really would be one more date, but she didn’t expect that it would grow consistently harder to keep saying no to Pierre. 

He gave her a kiss on the cheek to end the night after they exchanged numbers. Pierre assured her he’d call before the weekend ended, or if they were lucky they would run into each other in the paddock again. It was unlikely, but certainly possible.

Red didn’t know how to feel by the time she walked inside the hotel. The idea of having another glass of wine popped in her head, but she typically wasn’t someone who drank to relax and now would just be a horrible time to start. 

She glanced towards the bar, not surprised to see it had died down since she had stepped in earlier. But she was surprised to see that there was one man who seemingly hadn’t moved an inch, still sitting at the bar at the same spot as hours prior.

Maybe it was the few glasses of wine she did have, but the confidence she was lacking earlier made a shocking appearance and she found herself walking towards a one Charles Leclerc. He didn’t notice her, not until she sat down on the empty stool next to him. At that point, she was impossible to not notice. 

Charles looked up, both of them wearing smiles. While hers was more smug, his was reminiscent of a young childs’ who had just been caught eating cookies before dinner and tried to play it off innocently. 

“Don’t tell me you got stood up?” She teased, thinking about earlier when he was the one who assured her that her date was nearby. 

“No, no, he left only minutes ago actually, I was just-” he looked at his nearly empty whisky glass, “-just finishing up my drink and I’ll head out.”

“Who?” Red asked, as if she had any idea the type of friends Charles had. The only reason she asked was because the leather seat she was on was cold against the back of her legs and that wouldn’t be the case if someone was just sitting here. Nor were there any water marks or signs that a second glass had been placed on the bar top. 

The likelihood of Charles sitting alone at a bar for a few hours was low, but she was still curious about what he got up to tonight.

“A friend from my karting days,” Charles answered, folding his arms over the surface of the bar as his eyes met hers again. “He lives in Milan, so we try to meet up when I’m here.”

Red’s eyebrows furrowed together as she gestured with her chin to the lobby of the hotel, “Earlier you said he was staying here.”

“He is!” Charles exclaimed. “Sorry, I meant he lives in Italy. He’s staying at this hotel this weekend.”

She wanted to believe him, this would be a strange thing to lie about.

But Red reminded herself that she and Charles were still strangers. If he was in fact lying about meeting a friend and was instead on a date with someone, which was her guess, it would be unlikely he would jump at the chance to tell her, probably wanting to keep the potential relationship private as most of his life was in the public eye.

“How was your date?” Charles asked, spinning the conversation around on her. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice the way her jaw tensed before her gaze landed on the row of bottles that lined the shelf behind the bar. Eye contact was not her thing. 

“Yeah, it was good,” Red told him, knowing that he was friends with Pierre. Nothing she said was safe, or at least that’s what she assumed.

“Just good?” Charles further questioned, spinning the glass between his fingers. 

“Pierre’s nice,” Red added with a head nod, but it sounded like she was trying to convince herself of that as opposed to telling Charles what he already knew. “I had a fun time, we’ll see how the second date goes I guess.”

“Second date?” he repeated, not intending for the surprise to be so evident in his tone. He cleared his throat, “He already lined up a second date?”

Red nodded, her line of sight darted from the bar to the gold rings she wore on her fingers, spinning the one on her thumb out of habit. She struggled sitting still, Charles realised. In the back of his head he wondered if Pierre had noticed it too.

Charles leaned in closer to her, “This may not be my place to say anything, but you don’t seem to be too pleased about a second date.”

Was it that obvious? Red planted a smile on her face and looked up from her hands, ignoring the way Charles was staring through her like he was trying to read her mind.

“I’m just tired, is all. I haven’t really let myself think about the next date yet,” that was believable, she told herself. It had to be. 

Charles turned his wrist to look at the time on his watch and nodded. He then gestured towards the hotel, “I’m about to head out too, but I can walk you to the elevator, if you’d like.”

Red nodded, finding his offer to be harmless enough. Charles finished the rest of his drink before tossing a few bills on the counter and thanking the bartender with a wave and a smile. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets as they crossed the floor to leave the restaurant and enter the lobby. It wasn’t quiet, but it was certainly more lively during the day as there were a handful of team members from all series’ who stayed at this hotel.

“So you’ll be at the paddock all weekend?” Charles asked. 

“Yeah, I’ll fly home Sunday though. I’m not staying for the F1 race.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t get passes for it. I only have them for the support races.” she turned her head towards him, a soft smile playing on her lips. 

The hotel lobby light was not ideal for anyone, but it made Red’s features much more prominent, whether she liked it or not. Charles didn’t know whether to look at her bold lashes or the freckles that couldn’t be covered with makeup or the way the corner of her lips turning upwards contrasted with the uncertainty in her eyes. Her smile was polite, it was warm, but it was also forced.

Charles was nearly about to offer her a pass to the paddock, lord knew he had a few of them lying around, perks of being a driver. But before he could say anything, the step up towards the elevators snuck up on them and Red stumbled to catch her balance as her heel caught on the platform.

He reached for her arm and his other hand hovered in front of her, ready to assist if needed but Red laughed it off and apologised, swearing that she usually wasn’t this clumsy, it was the heels.

His grip on her arm loosened and he trailed his fingers down to her wrist and then to her palm. Red’s hand gently rested on top of his as he helped her step up onto the platform. Charles’ pressed the elevator button for her and both of their arms fell back down to their sides.

He waited until the doors opened to wish her a goodnight. The idea of inviting her to the paddock on Sunday slipped his mind as he was now only thinking about what it would take to feel her hand in his again.

Red waved at the Monegasque driver, holding his stare until the steel doors shut between them. Only then did she feel safe enough to take a breath and lean against the wall, her gaze dropping to the hand that Charles held for only a moment.

She didn’t feel a spark with Pierre.

But Charles’ touch lit a fire under her skin.

can't wait to hear your thoughts ♡

[ceilidhtransing]

Here to once again sing the praises of Duolingo (and go on a long ramble about language learning)

I see a fair bit of criticism of Duo that essentially begins and ends with “Duolingo alone won't make you fluent”, stated as if it's obvious that this point alone is enough to totally condemn the app.

The thing is, “Duolingo alone won't make you fluent” is true*, but also a) pretty obvious to most dedicated language learners and b) not nearly enough to automatically render Duolingo not worth using.

[*It's also worth pointing out that “fluency” isn't really a single coherent concept: people can have radically different fluency levels across, for example, reading and speaking; different levels of proficiency can count as “fluent” in different settings depending on the needs of that setting; and not everyone learning a language is even aiming for “fluency” in the first place - though this also leads into a huge can of worms about the somewhat prevalent idea that fluency is the only worthwhile goal for learners and if you're not aiming to be fluent then it's a waste of time, but that's a discussion for another day.]

The value of Duolingo varies a lot by course, but my experience is that even though Duolingo alone won't “make you fluent”, the bigger, better-developed courses can take you a long way. Yes, obviously not to C2 “basically a native speaker” level, but pretty far. And that's personally where I find the app's real value: giving enough of a grounding in a language that other learning materials - short stories, podcasts, conversation groups, etc - become accessible. Of course Duolingo alone isn't going to make you fluent, but for a lot of learners it's an irreplaceable early tool on their journey towards proficiency.

Early on, when your level of knowledge of a language is zero or near-zero, so much of the struggle of learning is a feeling of total overwhelm as you try to figure out how to learn and find a method you'll stick to. Independent learning can feel like walking blindly through a maze of disparate and sometimes contradictory resources, some on grammar, some on vocab, some that say “start speaking immediately!”, some that say “get to grips with these grammar foundations before even trying to speak!”, some that insist there's no replacement for immersion, some that argue that immersion is like being thrown in the deep end and expecting yourself to swim, and this is where so many people burn themselves out. You can't read short stories or listen to podcasts when you know literally nothing of a language, and if you use a random unstructured assortment of materials then you'll probably end up learning grammar concepts in a very random and disconnected and confusing way. Duolingo bridges that early gap between “zero proficiency” and “some proficiency”, providing a structure that says “just keep doing this and you will watch your ability grow”.

Really, I think it's in precisely what “doing this” means that the disagreement arises. It's a very YMMV app, depending on how each person uses it. Someone using Duolingo for >30 minutes a day, making rapid and intense progress through their course, and seeking out alternative sources to clarify bits of grammar that they're confused by is having such a different experience from someone who does one lesson a day just to keep a streak going. Of course someone doing the latter isn't going to be “made fluent” that way - because there is no language-learning material on earth that is going to produce genuine progress with that little time and attention (and frankly there is no material on earth that is a 100% comprehensive standalone course from beginner to fluent and doesn't require any supplementation). Regardless of which material you're using - Duolingo, Babbel, Rosetta Stone, LanguagePod101, a YouTube series, a university course, a textbook, or any of the many other miscellaneous methods - time and attention is basically what it comes down to, and personally, in the beginner-to-intermediate stages of language learning, I've found Duolingo to have a pretty good ratio of “time and attention” to “language progress”.

Ultimately, Duo can be excellent at holding your hand through those early months of language learning, getting you to a point where you don't use “Duolingo alone”, because you now have enough confidence and grounding to supplement with things like short stories and podcasts and conversation partners - things that you would have found unbelievably daunting at the beginning, but that are now accessible to you thanks to a free app that guides you through a clear learning structure. I think that's great.

Zu lang, ich habe nicht gelesen - vielleicht bin ich noch nicht fließend, aber ich kann viel mehr mit Duo als ohne Duo sprechen :)