#i bought a uke instead

[bigbrainbiology]

Doodle <3

[ectonurites]

Matcha

matcha: favourite book?

ooooough this is hard. much like last time i answered a question like this, it feels like every book i've ever liked or enjoyed just exits my brain as soon as i'm asked.

the book im ending up thinking about at this exact moment is Solitaire by Alice Oseman mainly bc it's finally getting a US re-release soon (with the updated edition of the story) so its just fresh on my mind

[tea asks]

[shotmrmiller]

since i'm rambling about self inserts? (is that it?) now you're miserably turning over on the bed, pulling the comforter over your head because you wasted a whole whopping 70$ for MW3 only to get an unfinished game and a piss-poor half-assed shock value main character death.

You fall asleep thinking about what you'd do differently- how johnny wouldn't die so needlessly, maybe even convince Captain Price to let Johnny put a bullet in Makarov's head in that helo.

And when you wake, your surroundings are different. The bed is too small when yours is a king, the innerspring mattress creaks when you sit up, even though you explicitly bought a memory foam.

The walls are spartan instead of the personalized decor you had. Looking over the edge of the bed, the floor isn't carpet. It's an ugly, white vinyl tile.

Where the fuck are you?

Your hands are callused but the only time you even got one was when you tried your hand at gardening, only to eventually realize you could kill a cactus with your brown thumb.

Hopping out of bed, you beeline to your bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Almost everything is the same. Eyes, hair, body, height.

Only difference is your flesh. It's littered with scars- both old and new. A thick, pink jagged line across your clavicle (a blade?), a puckered star shaped keloid above your hip bone (A gunshot wound?)

Stepping back out into the room, you carefully survey the space around you. A tac vest you swear you've seen before hangs on the back rest of your small chair.

Two black glock-19's sit on the desk. How do you know that? You don't know lick about weapons.

There's a large sheathed blade by your nightstand table. Didn't Rambo have one of those?

Suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You're dreaming. Jesus. Maybe you should start reading some smut fanfiction before bed to get Simon in your-

A knock at your door pulls you out of your degenerate thoughts.

oooookay.

Padding quietly to the door, the metal of the handle feels shockingly cold. How wildly vivid.

"Ye- what the fuck?"

What the actual fuck?

"Language."

...

Your mouth gapes in utter disbelief. "Simon?"

His dark eyes narrow behind his skull mask. "Chummy, are we?" He steps forward, forcing your neck back at an uncomfortable angle to keep your eyes fixed on his. "You and I, Sergeant, ain't friends. It's Ghost to you. Clear?" he snarls.

You swallow thickly. "C-Crystal, sir."

He tips his chin forward. "Get decent, I'm to take ya to the debriefin' room."

what?

"Now."

Spinning on the balls of your feet, you hastily dress, and grab the vest on the chair. UK flag on it. Tactical. Heavy as hell.

Your hands move on their own, and fingers smartly clip buckles, pull up zippers and close the pockets- as if you've been doing this your whole life.

What is happening?

When you get to wherever it was you were going, you're met with more recognizable faces.

Captain Price stands in front of Laswell, bulky arms crossed as he speaks to her in a hushed tone.

Gaz sits on a chair with his head hanging back as he blankly stares at the ceiling, trademark cap in place.

And then there's- "Bonnie!"

Johnny.

"Good to see Simon dinnae eat ye on the way here."

Simon Ghost doesn't react to the jibe at all.

Why are you sitting in the middle of the 141 listening to Laswell debrief about Hassan? Why aren't you waking up yet? You're lucid. The sharp sting of your nails digging into the palms of your clenched hands isn't dulled.

"Good hunting."

This can't be happening.

This isn't real. The heavy helmet strapped to your head. The weight of the bulky tac vest full of equipment. The painfully tight straps around your thighs. The way the rifle feels in your hands, solid and dense.

Not real.

Until you're offloading with Bravo Team in Al-Mazrah on the search for Major Hassan. The tall grass grazing your pants, the NVG's over your eyes to help you see in the dark. The harsh recoil of a weapon you've only ever used in a video game. The gurgling sounds of the enemies as they choke on their blood by your feet. The bullet whizzing past you, clipping your cheekbone. The burning sting of it, white-hot pain.

Real.

It feels fucking real.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

The Warning With Steve Schmidt:

Four years ago today, after losing a presidential election, Donald Trump incited an insurrection against the US Constitution. His mob stormed the Capitol, pissed on the walls and shat on the floors. They did $1.5 million in damage, caused injuries to at least 174 of Capitol police officers, and caused the deaths of five people. Trump will soon pardon the January 6 criminals, lionize them, and hang medals around their necks. Have no doubt about this. Meanwhile, Elon Musk has denounced Nigel Farage, the leader of the UK Reform Party, saying that he is unfit to lead it. He has also stepped up his interference in the forthcoming German elections. He has also begun severely limiting criticism of himself and others on X with a social media scoring system that is straight out of China.

The Washington Post is in a state of collapse. The paper’s best political writers, journalists and commentators are like the first-class passengers on Titanic being lowered into half-filled life boats taking them to the Wall Street Journal and The Atlantic, but the truth is that there aren’t enough life boats for all. Everyone is going to want off a ship that is sinking into disgrace. Whatever private commitments were made between the Graham family and Bezos when he bought The Washington Post regarding its stewardship have been shattered. The most incredible part about the capitulations — which are not the least bit surprising — is how quickly they happened, and without so much as a soft whimper or scuffle.

By doing so, most editorial leaders of these institutions have demonstrated the only place they are truly fit to work is the Trump White House. There, they could combine the practice of moral appeasement, fecklessness, dishonesty, weakness and self-interest with being cheered, promoted and celebrated. Instead, these low men and women have to face the reality that the person staring back at them in the mirror is a different version of Lindsey Graham — only they call themselves journalists as opposed to senator. The farce is the same. The cowardice is the same. The record will show that when the starting gun sounded nobody came close to Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski with their Usain Bolt-like dash to Mar-a-Lago. Bezos must look at them through his capitulant lens as visionaries. Perhaps they will have the opportunity to summer aboard Koru, his yacht, with the Lady Sanchez in the south of France. Given that Bezos has green-lit a Melania documentary that explains her reemergence from witness protection, maybe she could be there as well, softly purring about her deep love of Donald and America.

[...] Jeff Bezos, Sam Altman, Elon Musk, and all the rest of America’s oligarchs hold the American people in contempt. Because they do, they can’t see the character of the steelworker, trucker, nurse, teacher or cop. They only see one thing, and that in the end, is why this whole miserable MAGA project will crash and burn. They are locusts preparing to swarm to engorge themselves even though they feel no hunger and want for nothing. Donald Trump will keep pushing until someone, somewhere, some day, effectively pushes back again. I hope that day comes soon because until then they are going to be full speed ahead. By the time the inaugural address is over there will be perfect clarity around what must be fiercely opposed as indecent and un-American.

Steve Schmidt’s column is on the nose here. It’s insulting to see so many people and institutions obey in advance and capitulate to Trumpism, especially the Washington Post.

[mrs-saturday]

🏹 The Archer (LS2)

♥ my masterlist!

♥ pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader

♥ synopsis: The aftermath.

♥ a/n: Im so upset. Im broken. This is my grieving process

Combat, I'm ready for combat,

The pre-race ritual has always been the same for Logan and you. In front of the mirror, your hands slipping around his toned midriff, nails tracing the evidence of gym sessions beneath his race suit, his helmet on its stand, air at a standstill, as his head falls back onto your shoulder with a shaky exhale.

He knew it, and you knew it.

Zandvoort was the last one, and even though no one knew that for certain, and Vowles hadn't called the meeting, hadn’t thrown down the gavel on the blonde’s dream, you both knew it and it sat in your stomachs like a weight.

He picks his head back up, and turns to face you, planting a small kiss on your nose, and you do the same.

His nose is awfully cold, but you watch him slip the helmet on, and pray that it warms him through.

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

Watching him spin out was like the nail in the coffin.

Watching orange tongues lap at the rear of his car was enough to drive you to a Hamlet-like state; to jump in his grave, pull the casket lid wide, and scream to the onlookers your love. 

When he’s back from medical, he looks at you, a silent acceptance of the end of his career quite literally going up in flames. He runs over, head buried in your chest as silent sobs wrack through his trembling frame. “Logan…” you mutter into his hair, about to ask what he thought would happen to his seat.

“I don’t even want it anymore…” he cries

“But, what if you do?”

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies,

He was told he was out 2 days before they announced it. The young Argentinian with his head hung low in the meeting room, unable to look at Logan. The cold fist of Vowles telling him what he’d been expecting, but the thought of him ruining this young boy’s career filled him with rage. 

How dare he do this again. How dare he do this to another bright star, to ignite his explosion all too short of a supernova. 

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

You try to get him to stop for a moment, but he’s sat furiously typing. He has to get it all out, he says. Too many thoughts, he says. He types and types as you hold him. Every frustration, every late upgrade, every lost nugget of feedback, every false promise, the results of which spilled into the American’s notes app like he was a teenage girl, feeling her heartbreak through lines of shower thoughts and ill-placed rhymes.

When he finished, he exhaled, and looked at you, with a weak smile, and hit delete on the note. 

Easy they come, easy they go

You two don’t stay in the UK long. The boxes are full the day it’s announced and the flights to Florida only a few days after. 

“Home” he had begged on that night, “If the track can’t be, I want to make home with you”

And you agreed, you packed up your life in England alongside him, the helmets and trophies of past delegated to a manila coloured box labelled “FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE”

They would stay there.

For a while, at least.

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

The last thing he does is visit Oscar. Or at least, he tries to. His rosy knuckles tap on the Australian’s door one last time before he realises Oscar is not answering, despite the party going on inside the house. He is far too busy living their dream to remember to answer to the door to a boy delegated to a photograph on his mother’s refrigerator. 

I never grew up, it's getting so old, Help me hold onto you

It’s like he’s 11 again, in his parent’s living room, watching ‘Top Gun’, and eating popcorn. No one has bought it up. Not you, not his parents, not Dalton, it hangs in the air like the wheel had clung to his car by a wire’s length. Instead, you all ignore it for the simple pleasure of family. You laugh as he throws popcorn at his brother like they’re children. And you smile to yourself.

He never got to be a kid, really so why not hold onto that freedom now?

I've been the archer

He’d been the winner

I've been the prey

He was the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

You could never leave him, darling.

But who could stay?

Home always stayed.

[aurae-rori]

Wanna ask if you have any headcannons for aventio modern au

( cause I am obsessed with modern aus)

hellyeah brother i'm here to serve the masses

hcs about ratio:

still a doctor still has 8 phds

knows about student debt and hates it with a burning passion

has a duck keychain that he puts on his keychain with all of his keys like the keys to his house

once crushed a soda can in his hands during his student years bcs he was that fucking mad about the homework questions not being stated in a clear manner (he just like me fr)

has several duck plushies in his bed and theyre all named after either greek philosophers or roman politicians

can speak latin fluently and mutters curse words and creative expressions in latin during the classes that he teaches because he is that pissed off

used to be a full time doctor, but decided to turn to teaching instead after some time

hyper-empathy due to childhood neglect (he just like me fr)

eyebags that he covers up with makeup, he still has those from his student years and cant fucking get them to leave no matter how many hours he sleeps for

enjoys occasionally a rum & coke

really likes lattes and london fogs

had a british accent once because he travelled to the uk and picked up on it, when he came back he was mortified

fucking loves ducks so much he has a camera roll dedicated to duck photos

he got to pet a duck once he was happy for the rest of the week thats how much he loves them

massive nerd & dork

undiagnosed autism with a side of gifted child trauma

really likes jazz and lofi it calms him down fast and makes him happy

wrings his hands when he's really happy

touch starved

makes really good soup

hopeless romantic

more mentally unstable than you think he is. he is actually suffering from burnout but doesnt want to let people around him down.

doing his best. sometimes on the weekends he just nestles into a cocoon of blankets and refuses to leave. texture....

cannot not wear socks he will die without them

cat magnet for some reason??? all neighbourhood cats are at his doorstep even when he and aven already have three. ig hes just cat dad now

aventurine hcs:

still has those glasses, his eyes are more sensitive to light too

really fucking likes fluffy stuff he loves the fluffy he loves the fluffy he-

big fan of sheep and peacocks

eternally terrified that ratio secretly hates him even when they start dating

bpd & adhd & probably autism (ALL BPD HAVERS FUCKING WIN WITH THIS ONE!!!!! I SEE YALL)

masks so often its insane

used to smoke and drink heavily, but has started to lay off ever since he met ratio

still an adrenaline junkie and still has his stupidly good good luck

really likes coffee too, coffee addict, has horrible eyebags, a shitty sleep schedule, and overworks himself half to death

cant fucking cook what the hell is a kitchen

very fond of stelle/caelus and sees them as his surrogate younger siblings. stelle taught him how to play video games and now he plays with them whenever his thoughts get really bitchy to him

horrible at relying on other people but is slowly unlearning that

can do a backflip (why? idk)

high pain tolerance

has a collection of sheep plushies that his friends bought for him

numby and him get along really well. he and topaz still have that sibling esque relationship.

i think he still works for the ipc in this au but its not as bad as it is in canon

starved of touch and does not really know what a healthy relationship is before ratio comes along

loves blankets he has like ten blankets on his bed at once idk why

once poured monster energy into coffee and then drank it. he suffered the consequences. even good luck can't save you from that

listens to generic pop (lie. he actually loves indie guitar)

MENTAL ILLNESS REP IN THIS MAN

accidentally big brothered some kids. help how does he deal with affection

buys stuff for stelle and caelus too. he buys them sheep plushies. they will defend said sheep plushies with their lives. they buy him racoon plushie in return. he does not cry.

his fingers shake so bad sometimes (PTSD goes hard)

motor skills can and will die on him occasionally

unhealthy coping mechanisms but hes getting better guys

he does relapse occasionally but hes putting in effort. finally got his ass to therapy thanks to ratio :)

second cat dad. he loves his cat children he will die for his cat children.

the cats like laying next to him as he eeps if ratio isnt there. they purr and help him with his nightmares.

(ily people w bpd you deserve this rep!!! enjoy :3)

them together hcs!!!!

ratio already had background information on bpd due to his psych degree beforehand but did more researching into it when he realized that aven had bpd because he wanted to support his partner as much as he could :)

ratio is big on physical touch but aven needed some time to get used to it and he was very big on it

aven really likes spoiling the absolute shit out of ratio and likes getting him gifts because sometimes he doesn't know how to word how much he appreciates ratio

aven likes to wash ratios hair for him and visa versa, non sexual intimacy always fucking wins

ratio still worries about aven and doesn't like him gambling all the time, aven makes an active effort to better himself for him even if it's really hard

at the start it was really fucking shitty between the two of them but eventually aven started to learn how to properly and safely communicate with ratio and ratio learned how to phrase his thoughts in a way that wouldn't trigger something, and although they both make mistakes they are doing their best for one another and generally have a good impact on one another's stages of healing (im not projecting im not projecting i-)

aven will hold ratio in his arms and tell him that he's good enough when the thoughts get really bad

they love cuddling, who's big spoon and small spoon switches regularly because they both like being held and holding the other

aven will stop by ratio after his classes and take him home when hes too tired

ratio shuts down sometimes and aven messes with his hair and just stays with him until he reboots

they kiss <33333333333

they cuddle so much they hold one another going to bed

ratio likes giving aven little headkisses and peppers his face with them

they are gay and in love and healthy actually

they were never toxic yaoi never will they be. they are healthy.

they get married <333

this is so much more than what you asked for probably but here you go.

[captain-mj]

I know I've been doing a lot of these lately but high me constantly has ideas that high me can't write lol

But ngl dead dove (09 SoapGhost) idea where Roba, who got frustrated with Simon for not bending, instead of killing him, just sells him to some strange person in the UK. It's implied multiple times in the comics that he's attractive, so it's not like... an unbelievable idea.

The guy gets irritated with him after a bit and Ghost bounces from person to person before ending up in a certain MacTavish's lap. He's not bought directly by him, instead being purchased as a gift and given to him. Soap accepts, can't really turn down something like this. Maybe it's a person who loves too much to report. So he hides everything and just.... keeps Ghost.

Ghost being extremely closed off and Soap having to coax him into doing anything, even eating. He's not crying or acting like Soap would expect, still snapping back at him and fighting. But he never attempts to escape.

Eventually Soap manages to pry out of him that Ghost believes people are watching him and if he tries to escape they'll kill his family.

[nhlclover]

𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 | 𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐂𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

word count: 1.35k

summary: on your way to the spend a weekend at the lake house with his teammates, you think about your future with rutger

warnings: british reader!, mentions of some other umich players (nick, duke brothers), brief sad thoughts

notes: based on 'so american' by olivia rodrigo. who am i if not writing fics based on songs.

The morning sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden hue on Rutger’s jeep that rumbled down the highway, its tires humming against the asphalt. Rutger sat in the driver's seat, his left hand holding a loose grip on the wheel, while you sat comfortably in the passenger seat, your feet were propped up on the dashboard. Rutger insisted you hit the road early to get to Jacob’s lake house around mid-morning. You felt that was a little too early, but he was excited to spend some spare time at the end of the semester with his friends and girlfriend, relaxing on the water. To make up for the early start time, Rutger bought you an iced coffee and promised that you could sleep in the car on the way over.

However, you couldn’t find yourself able to fall back asleep, instead taking over aux, the early morning air that flowed through the cracked windows helping to rejuvenate you. You tapped your fingers against the door handle, matching the beat of the song you’d selected. Dirt On My Boots by Jon Pardi filled the space, a contented smile gracing your lips.

“You’ve turned so American.” Rutger says, pulling your brain out of its brief daze.

“What?” You ask, your brows furrowing.

“I mean… look at you,” Rutger says with a chuckle. “You’re sitting there with your feet on the dash, you’re listening to country music, and you’re repping USA merch.”

Rutger motions to one of his hoodies that you’d thrown on as you were leaving. It was one given to him by the world juniors team he’d just played on, the letters U-S-A largely displayed on the chest.

You turned to him, adjusting your position in the seat. "Oh, please, don't say that. I'm still very much British, thank you very much." You retort, rejecting the idea that you’d become American in any way.

When you applied for an exchange to the University of Michigan, nothing could’ve prepared you for what would’ve come. On your first day of classes in the new country, you met Rutger. When a pretty girl sat next to him in one of his classes, he knew he had to talk to her. It didn’t take long for the two of you to develop feelings, Rutger soon being the ‘dreamy American’ that your friends had jokingly told you you’d fall for. And fall for him you did.

It was unfair of Rutger to make you feel this much when you both knew your future was uncertain.

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with being American.” Rutger points out.

“Yeah says the American.” You tease, rolling your eyes. “Thank god I’m going home soon. I need to reconnect with my roots if you think I’ve become American.”

Despite that being a joke, you couldn't shake the underlying sadness that gnawed at you. In just one week, you were leaving Michigan and returning to the UK. The thought of leaving Rutger and the life you’d established in Michigan weighed heavily on your heart. You knew that the bond you’d established with Rutger would withstand the miles and borders, however the prospect of being separated from him felt like tearing away a piece of you.

Rutger, sensing the shift in your demeanour as well as knowing that the inevitable move was weighing on you, reached over, taking your hand in his. His cold fingers lacing between yours quickly drew you back to reality.

“Hey,” He said softly. “Try not to think about it for now. Enjoy this weekend. We’ve got ages to figure it all out.”

You squeezed Rutger’s hand drawing comfort from his touch. With a gentle smile, you met his gaze, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you, Rut.” You said softly.

Rutger returned your smile, turning his attention back to the road while keeping your hand in his. You continued the drive, doing your best to expel the thoughts of leaving from your mind.

Three hours later, Rutger pulled down a laneway that ultimately led to a large house on the water. Rutger’s teammates were already outside, eagerly awaiting your arrival.

“Hey guys!” Rutger called out as they stepped out of the car. Rutger’s teammates come over, greeting the two of them.

“This place is beautiful.” You comment, admiring the glimpse of the water you could see past the house.

“God, I will never get over the accent.” Nick said. Rutger shoved his shoulder while you playfully rolled your eyes.

You considered yourself lucky that you’d become friends with Rutger’s teammates. From the moment Rutger introduced you to them, they’d welcomed you with open arms. And as you spent more time with them, they weren’t just Rutger’s teammates, they were your friends as well.

“Alright, now go get changed, we’re hitting the water.” Luca said, ushering the two of you inside.

You headed up to your room, changed into the swimsuits you’d brought, and then headed downstairs to meet the rest of the group. The rest of the afternoon, you guys remained on the water. You all took turns on the tube, as well as some of the boys deciding to test their water skiing skills. When the sun began to descend towards the horizon, a golden hue being cast on the water, you headed back to the house to start dinner, which was a full team activity in which everyone was put to work doing something. You and Rutger were put in charge of the barbecue on the back patio, teaming up with Dylan and Tyler to grill the burgers and corn.

After dinner was demolished, you headed down to the fire pit, relaxing in the Adirondack chairs, talking about whatever came to mind. The flames cast flickering glows on everyone's faces as you discussed sports, your exams, and random childhood anecdotes whether relevant or not. After a while of drinking and chatting, both you and Rutger hit your limits and decide to call it a night.

The second that Rutger’s head hits the pillow, he’s out like a light, the day’s activities catching up with him. After a full day of tubing and waterskiing, combined with the drinks they’d consumed throughout the day, everyone was wiped. You, however, lay awake, the moonlight reflecting off the water and into the open window.

You traced your fingers through Rutger's hair, watching his bare chest rise and fall with steady breaths. With the tranquillity of the room enveloping you, you find yourself lost in a maze of thoughts, your mind swirling with visions of Rutger and the future they could share.

England was home. England was where you grew up, where your family and friends still resided. The thought of leaving them to be in North America made your heart tense. However, lying in the sheets and staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but imagine moving to North America to be with Rutger. As you look over at him, still peacefully asleep, you imagine the prospect of uprooting your life for the American boy you fell in love with, of bridging the distance to be with Rutger.

Your thoughts continue to wander, picturing what could come of life in America with Rutger. Your mind entertains the notion of marriage, a distant yet possible milestone. That might be a little presumptuous of you, with your relationship still being in its infancy, but you practically couldn’t help it. The way he’d made you feel in the past 8 months was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Every moment with him felt like a moment torn from a romance book. Every moment with him was filled with laughter and stolen glances, creating an undeniable intimacy and connection.

You had to eventually force those thoughts out of your mind or else they would’ve kept you up all night. You rolled over, curling into Rutger’s side, and placing a delicate hand on his abs. Rutger stirred momentarily, instinctively wrapping his arm around you, drawing you closer. For now, you were content to simply be in this moment with him, cherishing the time you had left before you had to return home.

[invinciblelikeu]

i love Dream so much sometimes it makes my heart hurt 🥹 remember when he was on stream worrying if it'd be wrong if the socks he put in homeless kits were old instead of new. and the time he watched the hurricane and started worrying about the stray cats. or when he got a whole new mattress for Parker bc he realized he wasn't comfortable with the one in the guest room. or when he heard what George's favorite chocolates were so he got some from the UK and got all nervous when he was opening the gift. or when he'd tell fans to use prime on other CCs instead. I think Dreamie is a teddy bear that made a wish to a fairy to become a human so he could hug his friends back and spread love into the universe.

or when he thought of giving away misprinted dream merch to homeless shelters, offered to buy groceries for sylvee and Sam’s cooking streams, uses a breathalyzer on his friends before they go home to make sure they drive safe, felt bad about wasting food in George’s bday stream so he decided to donate food to the homeless, bought sketching pads for fan artists, bought someone a car bc theirs broke down, paid off his grandparents’ mortgage, bought his family new iPhones… yeah

[allywthsr]

CHRISTMAS TREE | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando decorate the Christmas tree

wordcount: 1.2k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: I can’t wait for when we set up our Christmas tree🥹, what are your thoughts??

advent calendar

It was the beginning of December and it was time for a Christmas tree. Lando and you loved to put up a real tree instead of just fakes, so every year you went to a farm where you could buy one. In Monaco there wasn’t a farm, so you had to go to the supermarket to get one, but whenever you were in the UK, farm it is.

Currently, Lando was driving you two to the farm, the trunk was cleaned and enough space was made so it would fit inside of the car. With one hand on your thigh and the other on the steering wheel, Lando was maneuvering you through the small streets. Christmas songs were playing from the speakers that you connected to your phone and it was cold outside. The perfect atmosphere to buy a Christmas tree, if you‘d ask me. Both of you were wrapped in multiple clothing layers, to keep yourselves warm.

When you arrived, a lot of Christmas trees were standing on the farmyard and the place was crowded. At least you were living in a small town, where everyone knew Lando and he wasn’t Lando Norris the racing driver but Lando the neighbor, so you two had no problem with taking your time.

You two greeted Garry, the owner, and looked through the different varieties of trees. They were big and bushy, or tall and thin, a mix of both these things or just weird-looking ones. You spent at least thirty minutes looking for the one, sentences like” No it has a bald spot“ or ” It’s wonky, can’t you see that?“ or even ”he‘s just ugly“ were used more often, but when you saw one of the last ones Garry had to offer, you knew you found the perfect match for this year. He was tall, but bushy and had no bald spots, he was perfect. Garry kindly wrapped the tree for you and loaded him in the trunk of your car, the tree was bigger than you thought and the tip was in between Lando and you on the drive home, he still kept his hand on your thigh the whole time, he was a clingy boy.

At home, Lando brought the tree into the living room and put it in the stand that you bought recently because the old one was broken. Together you tried to get it as straight as possible, but whenever you thought he was straight and Lando tightened the stand, he somehow was bent more to the left or to the right side, it was a disaster. After an almost fight because you two were so angry with the tree for not cooperating, he finally was how you wanted him to stand. He wasn’t perfect, but you gave up perfect twenty minutes ago, the tree was bent a little more to the right, but you turned it around so it faced the wall, that way you couldn’t really see it. Lando and you celebrated with a big hug and some kisses, you really deserved that.

Lando got the box with the baubles from the basement while you were vacuuming the space around the tree and tried to clean up the pine needles that fell off the tree while setting it up. The box was filled with orange baubles and special ones as well, like candy canes or Santa’s. The orange-colored ones were Lando’s idea, he desperately wanted to represent McLaren on his tree and who were you to disappoint him and insist on different colored baubles. For the background entertainment, you opened Netflix and looked for a Christmas movie, and when you found one that was interesting, you started it and got to work.

The fairy lights were more difficult to place around the tree as you had in mind. Every year you thought this was the fun part, but you forgot how hard it was to wrap it around the tree evenly and the cable couldn’t be too short or otherwise, it wouldn’t be able to plug the plug in the socket. Lando tried to navigate you from the couch, but when he saw you struggling, he got up and did it himself. He was taller than you anyway and was able to reach the top better. When the task was done, you could move on to the baubles.

Carefully you placed the glitter baubles all around the tree on the fir branches, Lando was supposed to help, but he sat on the couch, too invested in the movie, so he only passed out the different ornaments from the box. The sheer ones found their way on the tree as well, finding the right spot for the bauble had always been a rather hard task, you couldn’t decide where you wanted them to be placed, so you changed them around a lot before you were completely happy with the end result.

When Lando got up to help you, he wasn’t that big of a help, he randomly placed baubles everywhere and didn’t really look. There were two normal orange ones directly next to each other and it didn’t bother him! So you scooched him over to the other side, while you fixed the mess and hung the ornaments more far away from the other.

Last but not least you placed the special ornaments on the tree. You had colorful candy canes, some Santas, a few reindeer, and weird ones like a cupcake that Lando had bought a few years ago. He had bet that you wouldn’t hang it on the tree, and let’s just say, he loses five pounds every year.

But you also had cool ones where someone painted a picture of you and Lando on an ornament and gifted it to you, you loved how it looked and could not not hang it on the tree. This year you left some spaces in between the baubles because you wanted to do some ornaments with Lando, it might sound lame, but you turned it into a date night and Lando couldn’t deny those. Every two weeks someone would choose something to do during date night, and last week, Lando decided to stream and look through memes for two hours straight. You loved memes, and you loved streaming, but for two hours? It got boring after thirty minutes, but you waited until Lando said it was over because whenever someone chooses a date night, it had to be done, so he could make some ornaments with you.

The tree was perfect, but there was one last thing to do, to put the star on top of the tree. So you chose the perfect one, it was white and had silver specks in it, and Lando wrapped his arms around you under your butt and lifted you up, so you could reach the tip and place the star on top of it.

You two made some steps away from the tree and looked at it while hugging the other.

”It‘s perfect, isn’t it?“

All you could do was nod against his shoulder and kiss it.

”Thank you for doing this with me.“

”Always and everything, baby.“

[borninwinter81]

Black metal battle vest update

A few more patches here - still plenty of space, but I'm getting to the point where the free spots are small and/or awkward.

Many of these are traced or stencilled and painted with black fabric paint onto white fabric.

The Greek lettering is from Rotting Christ and means "666". I don't understand Greek so I don't know how that works, but I feel like less of a teenage edgelord with this than I would a patch that just says "666".

Impaled Rektum is the band from the movie Hevi Reissu (Heavy Trip). Strictly speaking they don't belong on a BM vest as their music in the movie definitely leans more towards death metal (or more accurately symphonic post-apocalyptic reindeer-grinding Christ-abusing extreme war pagan fennoscandian metal) but I love that movie. Plus all the characters in the band represent a different genre, and Pasi/Xytrax is clearly supposed to embody BM.

Morbid is the band Per Ohlin/Dead was in before Mayhem. They only did one EP plus a few tracks that were only ever performed live, but they're awesome. Again not BM really, but with the Dead connection I felt like I could include them. Plus the shape is perfect for this spot 😁

Behemoth and Satyricon shouldn't need any introduction - those are both painted - and Rotting Christ underneath, which I bought from their bandcamp store. Seems appropriate to have those 3 together since I'm seeing them all on The Unholy Trinity tour next year.

The Alcest one is also painted. One of their logos is a little more complicated and I didn't even attempt it, but luckily they have another which is very simple and fits this spot perfectly. Alcest are a French band, and created blackgaze, a fusion of BM and shoegaze. Their music is gorgeous.

Last of the painted ones, and the first one I did using my tracing method. I got so much confidence from this that it led me to making all the others. Sarcófago, phenomenal Brazilian band who played a huge part in shaping what we think of as BM today.

As did Celtic Frost just underneath, this patch came from the Danse Macabre boxset because I'm a heathen who uses her collectible merch instead of keeping it pristine.

On that subject... two Immortal patches. Northern Chaos Gods was bought singly but War Against All was from the boxset too. I don't know whether I'm likely to get shit for this or not, but I've listened to Immortal for years, and I honestly think the last two albums (the ones since Abbath left) are their best ever, which is why I'm representing both of them here.

The War Against All box also had a pin badge but I haven't decided where on the vest I want to put it. It also came with an artcard signed by Demonaz which is exclusive to Eyesore Merch in the UK.

Backpatch. This was also homemade, but I'm not skilled enough to paint it, so it was done with printer transfer paper. Ulver are one of my favourite bands of all time, from their 90s BM, to their avant-garde, neoclassical, experimental, noise, psychedelic, and 80s synth style. All their work is absolute genius, and Nattens Madrigal is my favourite of their early material.

Lastly a couple of purchased ones, Bathory who again should need no introduction, and Agalloch who are another all-time favourite of mine, everything they've ever created is stunningly beautiful.

[kimberleyjean]

What did Adam change? (Part 1)

To follow up on my recent reblog about the baby swap, I'm going to take a closer look at Adam where we leave him at the end of S1. Because, by the end of S1, Adam had changed quite a few things... and I'm going to use both the TV show and the book to provide evidence.

To become the Young's real son, I don't think Adam really needed to change all that much. He just says the words to Satan, Satan disappears, and that should be it, right? But no, because Adam goes much further, and I think he does it because he can.

Because Adam has opinions, you see. Opinions on how the world should be and what he wants to happen. Except, unlike Agnes, who needs to write a prophecy and then wait 300 years for her descendant to enact it, Adam can just make it so.

The Other Two Babies

I originally thought about putting all the things Adam changes into a single post, but instead I'm going to make this a short series of posts, because he changes a fair bit. Let's start with where we left off with the baby swap, crack open a copy of the book and discuss the changes for Warlock and Greasy first.

Warlock

Here's some excerpts of Warlock flying home from Megiddo to America (my bolds for emphasis):

It was Sunday afternoon. High over England a 747 droned westwards. In the first-class cabin a boy called Warlock put down his comic and stared out of the window.

...

And now he was going back to the States. There had been some sort of problem with tickets or flights or airport destination-boards or something. It was weird; he was pretty sure his father had meant to go back to England. Warlock liked England. It was a nice country to be an American in.

...

And Warlock flew on to America. He deserved something (after all, you never forget the first friends you ever had, even if you were all a few hours old at the time) and the power that was controlling the fate of all mankind at that precise time was thinking: Well, he's going to America, isn't he? Don't see how you could have anythin' better than going to America. They've got thirty-nine flavors of ice cream there. Maybe even more.

So it's Adam who has sent Warlock back to America, despite Warlock wanting (even, expecting) to be on his way to England. And he's controlling the fate of all mankind.

Greasy

Likewise, he has changes for Greasy Johnson too (the discarded baby who grows up to win prizes for his tropical fish).

The plane was at that point passing right above the Lower Tadfield bedroom of Greasy Johnson, who was aimlessly leafing through a photography magazine that he'd bought merely because it had a rather good picture of a tropical fish on the cover. A few pages below Greasy's listless finger was a spread on American football, and how it was really catching on in Europe. Which was odd… because when the magazine had been printed, those pages had been about photography in desert conditions. It was about to change his life.

Adam is deciding here how to alter Warlock and Greasy's paths. Warlock wants to be back in the UK, but Adam thinks America is better, while Greasy's magazine is changed to American football, which I guess is implying he's going to become an American footballer.

Now, not everyone may be aware, but these parts weren't in the first release of the novel. It only came about later, in the American edition. Apparently the changes were in response to prompting from the American editor, but they got "carried away" making those changes (source).

Season 3 (warning: speculation)

So, do you think this could be relevant for S3? For me personally, the fact that these bits were added later makes me wonder if this was helping to set up for a potential sequel. It's certainly poetic - just like the baby swap that originally involved all three, we are now implying a potential adolescent swap of Greasy, who is interested in American football, and Warlock, who is interested to return to the U.K.

If you've read at all about the hypothetical plot of the proposed written sequel, you'll know that it involved a trip to America, ostensibly to look for a lost Jesus. So, if the next book was originally meant to be about going and finding someone (Jesus?) in America, then Greasy or Warlock could make sense. It would be a switcheroo all over again if Warlock had left for the UK and Greasy for America.

Another alternative is that all three could end up converging in America, since Warlock already lives there and both Adam and Greasy have interests in going there. But if that's the intention, why mention that Warlock wants to be back "home" in the U.K.?

So, those are my possible takes on how this passage can be interpreted. I know there are some theories that either Greasy or Warlock may be the Second Coming. I've also seen a theory now that Adam himself could be a contender (both spawn of Satan and spawn of God - it'd certainly be interesting!). I'm not placing bets on any of these outcomes just yet.

In addition to this passage in the book, we also see some interesting changes made by Adam which are featured more prominently in the show - one's that have implications for the ineffable husbands.

Part 2 coming soon!

Thanks as always to everyone at the @ineffable-detective-agency (including @noneorother, @embracing-the-ineffable, @lookingatacupoftea, @251-dmr, @somehow-a-human, @maufungi, @havemyheartaziraphale, @theastrophysicistnextdoor, @dunkthebiscuit, @komorezuki, & @ghstptats).

[emkayewrites]

I wrote another behind-the-scenes-of-Bridgerton-Season-3 moment in my Lukola fanfic. This time, it's about the making of the mirror scene....

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

5th October 2022 – Buckinghamshire (UK)

He stood in front of her with a face full of determination.

“I will always stand up for you.” He insisted. “Because I love you… Pen.”

“Are-are you sure?” She found her words catching in her throat as she swallowed back tears.

He met her wide-eyed, slightly terrified gaze with a small yet reassuring smile.

“Everything I said to your mother is true.”  He looked away from her and towards the full-length rectangular mirror that was propped against the brick wall behind her. “And you shall see it as well.”

With those words and with some grace, he gently maneuvered her so that she was turned away from him; her back pressing into his abdomen, his arms hugging her from behind.  They both directed their gaze into the mirror before them, catching each other’s’ eyes in the reflection.

This part came easily to Nicola.  Conveying the hope that he truly loved you but not being able to let go of the fear that it was all a mistake or hoax somehow.  That any moment, he might pull away with the coldness and unfamiliarity of a stranger.  She knew as she played the part and said the words that she was channelling feelings that were years old and about Ezra, and the unrequited nature of their relationship.  She did not want those dots to connect but this was part of the challenge of being an actor; you did not get to choose what the work bought up for you.  This was what had kept happening to her every time they walked through these scenes.  She tried to orient herself to the present moment: to the fact that she and Luke were in a practice being presided over by Lizzy in a small rehearsal studio in the middle of nowhere.  This was not real.  Yet, this exercise only pulled her further away from the pivotal emotions she needed for the scene.

Luke’s hands travelled up her bare arms and rested tenderly on her shoulders as he bought his mouth close to her ear.  She inhaled deeply, holding his gaze in the mirror. 

“You… are the cleverest, bravest woman I have ever known.” His breath was warm against her skin.

This was meant to be an emotional moment; she felt the energy reverberating through him as he continued speaking to her with the passion of a man deeply in love.  Yet, she was no longer in the moment because she actively was trying not to be. The emotions had felt too difficult to hold.  She took another deep breath, trying to portray the feelings of overwhelm that Penelope would have to those words being spoken to her. 

“You make me feel seen in ways I have never felt seen before.” Luke had disappeared, all she could see and hear was Colin.  He was on fire.  “And then there is…”

He reached up to her hair which was gathered up rather sloppily in a bun and held there by a long, green hairpin.  He gently plucked it out and let it drop to the floor, letting her hair fall to her shoulders.  Nicola knew she should emote here but instead, she focused on Lizzy who she could see out of the corner of her eyes, huddled in the corner, watching them with a kind of enthrallment Nicola rarely saw.  She noticed Luke becoming aware of her distractedness; it was evident in the way he slightly stiffened, almost breaking character for the millisecond it took him to process what she was and was not doing.

“The way your hair cascades down your shoulder…” He carried on, but she could hear a change in his voice.  It was less romantic, more unnerved.  “The way your eyes shine when you look at me, like two blue pools.” 

He paused and turned his gaze from the mirror to her, making a point to look directly into her eyes.  She tried to hold his gaze with the nervous, lovesick eyes of Penelope Featherington but it felt impossible.  She no longer felt the tension and climatic build-up associated with romance, instead she felt like a thirty-something-year old in a slightly stained t-shirt and leggings play-acting the most ridiculous scenario. 

Comparing blue eyes to two blue pools? Really? She wanted to laugh.

Luke moved an index finger up to her chin and then began to run it ever-so-delicately across her bottom lip. “The firmness of your lips parted just so...”

It became too much.  It would have been fine if all he had to do was the talking but as usual, the touch pushed her beyond her threshold.  It came through as a small giggle at first, startling him slightly but he retained his resolve and tried to continue.

“…And the softness of your skin…”

No sooner had he finished the sentence than she had found herself bursting into laughter.  He let out a slightly frustrated sigh and dropped his arms, releasing her from him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” She apologized. “We can go again, I’ll keep getting better.”

“This keeps happening.” Luke was addressing Lizzy, not her.

“OK, well that was really great from both of you until that moment.” Lizzy reassured, standing up and walking towards them.  “I really got the emotions from you both but then you seemed to shift, Nicola.”

Nicola was not used to feeling the spotlight hit her and wanting to hide from it but, in that instance, she was not sure how to respond and wanted to avoid the topic altogether.  Lizzy was right, she had been the one to break character and there had been nothing going on in the room that had taken her attention away.  It was all internal and she was not sure she was ready to share what the content of that was.

“I was really trying.” Nicola lied.

“Are you sure?  Could what the mirror scene involves be making you get a little in your head?”  Lizzy prodded gently.  Luke was also appraising her carefully, a mix of concern and annoyance on his face.

“No, God, I’m alright with the upcoming nudity, honestly.  I might just be a little tired.” Nicola replied, hoping this would lead to a break and allow them to move on from the matter. 

There was a scoff from Luke that took her aback.  She fixed him with a frown.

“Anything you want to say, Luke?” Lizzy queried, picking up on the atmosphere.

“I don’t think you’re tired because this has been happening for ages, every time I’m delivering the most heartrending of lines.  You’re not tired, be honest.” He spoke with a frustration she had never really heard in his voice before.  Again, it surprised her and on some level, it also angered her.  She was trying, she was tired and yes, she was also secretly distracted by the complex emotions involved with Ezra right now, but he did not know that part, so how dare he accusingly state that there was something more to the situation?  She knew her train of logic was unfair but, in that moment, after several days of rehearsal, she did not care.

“I am tired.” She spat with some venom.  She noticed Lizzy tense up as she took stock of the direction the situation was going in. 

“OK, well I think we can communicate through this.” Lizzy spoke carefully. “Delivering highly emotional and sexually charged scenes is intense, it can bring up a lot.  I think it would be useful just to take a step back and check in with ourselves – what is coming up here?  Luke, can you elaborate?”

“Alright, I’ll say it.” He spoke with a forthrightness that was unusual for him.  “What’s coming up for me – I’m intimidated by you, Nic.  I’ve respected you and your craft and I’m just here trying to measure up. Every time I put heart and soul into a scene, it’s not convincing enough for you, you’re laughing or your breaking character.  It’s giving the distinct impression I’m not measuring up here.”

Nicola took a second to absorb the words.  This was the most emotionally exposed she had ever seen him.  She felt a sharp sting at his words and at the realisation that he had not just been nervous about playing a lead, but he had been worried about playing a lead alongside her.  There were always many jokes made about her perceived success and experience in the industry by many on the Bridgerton set.  They were a cast of many unknowns or first-time actors, therefore it was not difficult to stand out even with a few acting credits to your name.  As such, Nicola had never paid too much mind to these light-hearted comparisons.  Clearly, Luke, the conscientious overthinker that she now recognised him to be, did.

Standing beside her, Lizzy also seemed to be receiving his words with a solemness. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Luke, I’m really glad you shared that.  I think we can forget how our performances are incredibly enmeshed and there is a metanarrative running through what you both do, in character and out of character.” Lizzy looked at Nicola expectantly.  “Do you have any thoughts, Nicola?”

“Well, I feel like a right dickhead, for one.” Nicola replied. She watched his features soften and relax. “It’s not you, mate. Lizzy is right, there is a metanarrative that I was hoping I could push past but it’s clearly affecting me, and now you.”

“What metanarrative?” He asked.  There was a look of relief spreading about him that made her feel simultaneously better and awful – she could not believe he had been carrying that much worry about his own performance.  She owed him an explanation.

“It’s…” She started but was not sure how to continue.

Sensing an opportunity, Lizzy interjected.  “You know what? I think… this is a great thing to talk through over a break and a coffee.  Maybe journal out your thoughts first and then share them with each other if that is easier.  Work out a way to support each other through your differing metanarratives?”

“That’s a great idea.”  Luke stated and Nicola nodded in person but in mind, the idea was terrifying. 

But it’s necessary. She thought.

[loadingbones]

Hello!! breakdown of Choir Cosplay!! This is not really gonna be a step by step but a general vibe of what I did to make this cosplay :) To note: I haven’t sewn anything since I was in highschool which was 8 years ago, so a lot of this is like a ‘ya that works’ - make improvements where I could not :p Overall I wanted the cosplay to not be an exact copy of what is in game, personally I prefer more fitted clothing so I went close to my size with the pattern. Fabric: I used an ivory polycotton, ivory satin and black cotton. 1. I started hunting for a pattern that at least captured the vibe of the choir garb. I had split up the garment in my head into 3 separate parts: The base, the capelet, all the extra fancy bits. The big concern when picking fabric is I didn’t want the garment to be translucent, which is a problem for lighter coloured fabric. BUT!! I found that I didn’t have to make a lining and could instead flatline the fabric - where you cut double the piece and stitch them flat against each other - making it both thicker and opaque!  

Flatlining tutorial:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5N-qdP9tcc4&pp=ygUSZmxhdCBsaW5pbmcgc2V3aW5n

I found this pattern by Gunnar Deatherage on Etsy (as a beginner I loved this pattern, it’s very in depth and easy to follow) 

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/1270370974/maxi-duster-wrap-pattern-instant?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=gunnar+deatherage&ref=sr_gallery-1-14&pro=1&sts=1&dd=1&content_source=95a164c411331c5aaff8fee029dee1e6377d3f92%253A1270370974&search_preloaded_img=1&organic_search_click=1

I did not use the sleeve pattern from it, instead I made my own to have the right fall and size.

Use the sleeve cap from the pattern so it can attach correctly to the bodice/back pieces - then where the sleeve starts to become longer draw out diagonally on both sides. For length I used the original pattern and went slightly longer! :) I used the same pattern for the peplum sorta top section and again for the skirt on the bottom. It creates a stitch line along the front but it’ll be covered by the belt!

I bought this embroidered ribbon and attached it around the edges of the garment! https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/840215852/35-mm-golden-victorian-jade-jacquard?click_key=2c042e9416627d9bf9d2f1e85385ba93e48ca464%3A840215852&click_sum=1fe453a7&ref=shop_home_active_1&sts=1  Corset/rolled sleeves: I did this last Corset pieces: Cut out 4 pieces (twice) - and attach them together leaving the end open to turn them inside out. Use a grommet tool and punch some holes through your fabric - make sure they line up. Roll the sleeves to roughly where your inner elbow is and attach another piece of fabric around the width of the roll - pin it in place. Hand sew the corset pieces on and the other piece of fabric so it is all secure :) Thread some similar coloured lacing to the fabric through the holes. 

2. The belt! (My mum helped me a lot on this and was my voice of reason) Originally I had bought an elasticated belt with a clasp, but it didn't work at all and ruined the fall of the garment.

I chopped off the end of the belt, leaving me with some elasticated ‘fabric’ and the clasp. Measured my waist and cut out a thick piece of fabric twice and one piece of iron on interfacing. The measurement I did with the base on and added slightly more for both seam allowance and so there was breathing room for myself. Put the clasp piece on either end of the fabric and sew it all together! :)  (marks are from the paint of the chain rubbing off onto the fabric :P)

3. The caplet!  For the capelet I used this tutorial                           Easy DIY Capelets | For Halloween, Thanksgiving & Christmas🎃🍂🎄          (The only issue with this is I couldn’t get my head around how to attach a non circle collar) Ivory polycotton + Ivory satin used. Doing the base of this is pretty straightforward with the tutorial - it’s just a circle skirt but for your neck. If you want to be evil to yourself, you can do what I did and hand sew bridal applique all around the garment. If you can machine sew it please do :p I went for a big swooping shaped applique in ivory - any gaps I had were filled with more applique  ​​https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/628065500/beaded-sequinned-lace-flower-wedding?click_key=d8b4937d8079ab34b301cf2d4dc7fbd0d6ede960%3A628065500&click_sum=81fb49a9&ref=shop_home_recs_1 I used poppers on the base and the cape to attach them together - it kept choking me if i didn’t  4. The collar - made me want to cry ngl I could not figure out for the life of me how to attach a non circle collar to the capelet (which is how I wanted it). Instead we have a removable collar!! I copied the size of collar from one of my own shirts and followed these tutorials                           TWO PIECE COLLAR TUTORIAL | KIM DAVE                                     How to Sew a Collar and Collar Stand Easily by Sew Sew Live     5. Graduation hood???? For some reason you can’t just buy these in the UK without paying £30, so I made my own Cut out double for the pieces around your neck and one for the ‘hood’ part Gather the ends of the rectangular piece and attach them to the other pieces!

6. The Fancy back panel piece Measure from mid shoulder blade to the bottom of the garment for the main rectangular piece. Cut out two other rectangles of the same width coming into an arrow shape. Sew them all together and start sketching on the design. The great thing here is you can make it up, because it’s too complicated and nobody is gonna look at it and be like ‘u did it wrong’ I used a fabric medium and gold metallic acrylic 

Once it’s all done, I machine sewed it to the back of the base garment because it’s hidden by the cape.  7. THE REST Chain: Me and the chain belt had a fight - Originally I used metal chain,, but I’m allergic to some metal and can’t deal with the smell,, I switched to a plastic chain with 2 D Ring clasps - had to sand it down but the gold spray paint loves to flake off. If I knew about it before, I’d use EVA foam chain :) Black pieces underneath: I bought a turtle neck and a long black skirt :P but you could make it as a dress or smth! Purchased long black velvet gloves, a pocket watch and a key necklace (I didn’t want to use a censer - and they are v expensive/idk how to make one) Ribbon + brooch: I bought chunky soft blue ribbon and found a vintage brooch on vinted 

The mask: If you have contacts you’d probably be fine, but I don’t and this mask messed with my depth perception and balance so I had to take it off so I could wear my glasses :( 

Use buckram plastic mesh - the thicker kind, used for fursuit eyes and in black! You can see out but nobody can see in. I made a mock up with paper but sorta looks like this shape :)

Eva foam pieces cut out into swirls and filigree like shapes, glue it onto the buckram I did a base coat in grey over the entire thing and painted it with black, gold and bronze acrylic! I hole punched and put the ribbon through it so the mask could be tied around my head.

If you’re making the mask and hat - I’d attach the mask to the hat so it’s one piece :)  Where I went wrong/what I’d improve I wish I had been able to attach the collar to the rest of the garment. There is a gap that appears between the collar and the caplet/base at the back (mainly due to gravity and it moving) that can be annoying, since my hair is on the longer side it was covered but still I wish it wasn’t there. I’d also want a bigger collar! I’d not use satin as a lining for the skirt and capelet - it’s so annoying to use and it’s so slippery Maybe would not hand sew all that applique because it took me over a week :P  BUT OVERALL for a first cosplay, it’s pretty good! I’m mostly happy with the outcome and it was one of my dream ones to do! :) I hope this helps, I didn’t take photos of all the steps unfortunately but hopefully it makes sense :) 

[beegalactica]

HOT GIRLS ARE CONSCIOUS.

I haven't been on Tumblr in about 3 months (life has been busy), and when I finally decided to check back in today, I kept seeing the same thing over and over again, so I am here to dispel some myths.

If you have seen any of my posts, you will know the issues I have with traditional TikTok-y trendy 'glow-up' advice, but today I realised how much of it is just a ploy to get us to spend tons of money on things we CAN live without. I think we all need to be more CONSCIOUS: conscious of what we can realistically afford and implement into our daily lives.

For example, in a typical 'glow-up' advice post, tiktok or youtube video, they recommend these super unrealistic routines that include a full skincare routine of every type of cream you could ever imagine, and an incredibly detailed list that lays out how you need to spend every 10 minutes of your day in order to achieve this perfect form.

It's all hear-say.

Don't get roped into thinking that you need those brand new clothes, or you need those skincare items to be your best self. The idea of turning your 'glow-up' into a sustainable part of your life is to do things you can manage to do over and over again. The secret to glowing up permanently is having a routine that keeps you happy and healthy. Instead of buying a full shelf of skincare all in one go, get 1 or 2 items with positive reviews to start. You don't need to throw out your whole wardrobe and sell your soul to TEMU just to look aesthetic; use what you have. Rather than making short term impulsive purchases, treat every part of your life as an investment.

Especially when it comes to clothing, being someone who has lost weight and no longer fits into all their old clothes, instead of throwing everything out and starting from scratch, I bought a little amazon sewing kit with a couple of needles and different types of thread and started cutting and sewing my way to a better wardrobe. (Even TODAY, I turned an old pair of jeans that I never wear into a cute miniskirt all from a 5 minute YouTube tutorial.) If sewing isn't your thing, you can try using some hemming tape and an iron, fabric glue, or whatever you can. Be conscious of the things you buy and how often you buy them.

I know lots of people like thrifting, and you can thrift online with apps like Vinted, which I personally use and love, if you don't have access to massive thrift stores like they do in America (I'm totally not jealous at all 🙄🙄; I live in the UK and the closest things I have near me are charity shops but there's a sort of stigma around shopping in them but honestly who cares what others think).

When you shop for clothes, look for timeless and versatile pieces you can mix and match, layer and style with lots of different things, allowing you to wear them well. Try to find good staple pieces, that will make the basis of your wardrobe. Be an outfit repeater. Do not blindly follow trends; take the time to curate and explore to find your style. Make a massive Pinterest board of everything you think looks good, and start to make a list of common items of clothing and accessories you save the most; these will be your staples. Don't feel like you have to stick strictly to one aesthetic; my wardrobe ranges from 'fairycore' maxi skirts to y2k denim skirts, but what matters is that I am mindful of whether I will use the things I want to buy.

Of course, feel free to treat yourself, you 100% deserve it, but don't get sucked into the idea that your self worth is determined but WHAT you have; instead it should be how you FEEL in what you have.

I like to see my blog as a little notebook of things I wish I could have told my younger self, and things I want to remind my future self, and I feel like it would be a disservice to not talk about the oversaturation of our feeds with infinite products, to the point where everything feels like an AD.

Moral of the story: don't just take everything you see online at face value. Don't get trapped in extensive consumerism; it's bad for your bank account, it's bad for the environment and it's bad for your mental health.

Also here's my Pinterest if you want to have a peek around <3 Pinterest

[moonlight-records]

So American | LN4 & MV1

pairing: lando norris x oc x max verstappen

summary: Snippets of times that Storm, an up and coming American figure skater, being Lando and Max's favorite American soon to he partner friend

warning: fluff! some mad thirsting from Storm. but really just fluff!

FC: @/simimoonlight on instagram!

WC: 4.7K

a/n: Storm is genderfluid uses all pronouns fluently so the pronoun shifts are intentional, to showcase how they're presenting! yes! it is based off of 'So American' by Olivia Rodrigo! Yes, i did added the lyrics in! No, i do not own the song and all rights to her!! also, i blame @norrisleclercf1 for getting me on the norstappen train!!! so enjoy my first attempt at this!!

Drivin' on the right-side road. He says I'm pretty wearin' his clothes.

“Surprise!” Storm beams a bright smile at the older McLaren driver, arms stretched out wide for a hug while standing outside his hotel room. She almost cackles at the surprised expressions Lando is currently sporting before he rushes over, laughing and smiling as Lando pulls Storm into a tight hug, spinning her around before putting her down in shock. Storm is trying so hard to stay focused on Lando words as he rambles about them being here for Silverstone and all the things they’ll have to do before he stops, glances down, and laughs.

“Is this my hoodie?”

Glancing down at themselves, Storm feels her face suddenly on fire from being called out but she keeps her cool as she looks up at the Brit, “yeah. You left it at my place so now it’s mine. If you want it back, you’ll have to fight me for it and Max already took his back.”

Lando laughs as he shakes his head, “Calm down. As much as I love this hoodie, it looks much better on you. Max only took it back because Sassy loves to hide in his hoodies but I think I can part with this one if you promise to wear it often,” he beams that stupid heart stopping smile with a wink, “did you drive here?”

“Yes Lando, I drove here from the airport” making a face, “I don’t need someone to drive me around, Lando.”

“Booooooooooooooo! Return the car! I’ll drive you around while you’re here.”

“I think you just want an excuse to make fun of my driving and show me how to “properly drive” as you claim.”

“Am I wrong?”

Storm gasps and smacks Lando’s arm who is not fast enough to avoid it but he’s laughing. “Asshole!” Storm claims, “so the answer will be no.”

Crossing their arms over their chest, Storm studies Lando. She can’t help the small smile that appears on her face as Lando whines and complains that there’s no reason for Storm to drive when Lando is right here to be her personal chauffeur, especially at his home race. Storm shakes their head refusing to budge on the subject as Lando starts to coax them to put their things down so they can get drinks in the lobby.

And he's got hands that make hell seem cold.

“Jesus,” Lando hisses as his hand brushes against Storm’s hand as he takes his drink from her, “why are your hands freezing?”

“Maybe it’s because you run extremely hot all the time?” Storm counters.

“No no—put that down.”

Storm does and she blinks when Lando takes her hands into his. His hands are gigantic, completely engulfing her own, and they’re so “Lando, what the fu—”

“Storm, you're freezing. How are you okay with running this cold? And spare me the ‘I’m an ice skater’ bullshit. I know they’re all thermal so you don’t freeze.”

“How do you know that?”

“Common sense,” Lando states before speaking after a beat, “also cause I know you mentioned your tights ripping and money was a bit tight—”

“You bought me tights? Lando you didn’t have to do that. I have to pay you back—”

“No. Just take them. No strings attached. Really. Also stop distracting me from the fact you run way too cold—”

Storm laughs softly and shakes her head. They’ll die before admitting aloud that she has low iron and that she’s been taking iron pills but had forgotten to take one while traveling all the way out to the UK. Instead, she shrugs softly, “maybe it’s just the UK I’m allergic to,” she jokes with a grin.

Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote…I wish I wrote.

“Put your feet down!”

“No way!” Lando laughs as he shifts in the passenger seat with his feet up on the dashboard, “you refused to let me drive you around so now I get to play passenger princess! They do this all the time, why can’t I?”

“Cause god forbid I break short or something and then boom! Broken legs or worse, amputated legs,” Storm glances at the Brit trying her hardest to not cave and break this facade she’s put on, “I’ll buy you—fucking ice cream or something and won’t tell your trainer if you take your feet off the dashboard so I’m less stressed.”

Lando tilts his head from side to side before finally moving his legs off the dashboard, sighing dramatically as if Storm banned him from having fun. Storm laughs at the dramatic antics from the Brit but keeps driving as she steals a glance. Lando’s scrolling through his phone for something, maybe a song, but Storm can’t help but watch how his curls blow in the wind or how he’s got this glint in his eye when he focused or how sometimes he’ll end up making a duck face in thought and somehow make it work. Forcing her gaze away Storm continues driving and pushes the feelings down.

When he laughs at all my jokes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, it's just not fair of him to make me feel this much.

The days leading up to Silverstone felt like a dream that Storm did not want to wake up from. From the late night chats to the gaming to the shopping to the exploring, Storm can’t really pinpoint the last time she’s had this much fun, even if it’s just lounging around in his hotel room, Storm high out of her mind while Lando is basically giving her a fashion show for an outfit for media day.

“Your tolerance must be shit,” Storm says while sprawled out on the bed.

“It is,” Lando glances at her from the mirror while buttoning his shirt. Sea green eyes meet brown and Storm smiles and is thankful he looks away to finish getting dressed, “I’ll have some time during summer break but not much. Might have to stick to carts until the season ends.”

“One hit and you’ll be seeing god.”

“It’s better than the American on my bed,” Lando smirks in the mirror.

I'll go anywhere he goes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up.

“Well, this American will now stop giving fashion advice since the Brit seems to know so much more.” Storm starts, “and I guess this American just will sell her Hungary tickets a—”

“You’re going to Hungary too?!” Lando turns sharply to face Storm.

Sighing dramatically, Storm looks at the ceiling “Well, not anymore since someone would rather see God than the American.”

“I was kidding!” Lando starts and Storm just dramatically tosses her head to the sigh before Lando is launching himself onto the bed. Storm screams slightly and rolls so she’s not suffocated or injured and covers her mouth out of shock. Lando’s laughing and Storm shifts, grabbing a pillow. “Asshole!” Storm swears and smacks him with the pillow just as he sits up and she gasps before cackling at the McLaren driver falling off the bed.

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love.

Silverstone was not the results McLaren wanted. They were too greedy and the calls were all off. Why were the boys being left to make these decisions? Why didn’t they do a double pit in the beginning when McLaren was p1-p2. Storm debated if a lifetime ban from the garage would be worth cursing the race engineers out but Storm decided it wasn’t worth it in the long run so instead Storm took to stepping out of the garage to not get banned. 

Watching the podium from her spot in the garage, she couldn’t help but smile sadly. As much as she was proud of Lewis for getting his home win, she knew that this meant so much to Lando (and George who didn’t even finish) as well and Lando was so close. If the calls were just right maybe it would’ve been a different outcome. 

Storm hears the anger in his voice when Lewis points out they pitted Lando a lap too late. She winces slightly at it before she depearts and starts making her way to see the podium, hanging closer to the back as the boys appear. She’s thankful Max is up there as well, to be a support beam for Lando. Storm refuses to imagine what this would’ve been if Max and Lando let Austria really get to their friendship, even if she hasn’t talked much even with Lando there.

When the podium is over and everyone’s finishing up, Storm is lingering around the McLaren garage. Scrolling through her phone, she glances up seeing the Red Bull driver and pockets her phone as she steps forward intercepting his path. “Max,” Storm starts with a smile, backing up slightly seeing she had startled the male.

“Oh–Justice, is it?”

“Uh, yeah but everyone calls me Storm. Call me Storm, please.” 

“Okay. Storm it is,” Max smiles and nods.

“Thanks. I also just wanted to say thank you, for today.”

“You’re welcome for…what exactly?”

“Trying to cheer Lando up. I saw you really tried ever since the race ended,” Storm admits, “he really needed that so thank you. Especially after Austria..” letting her voice trail off for a moment, “it means a lot coming from you so, I just wanted to say thank you. Now if you excuse me, I have to deal with a moping Lando for the evening.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Max offers, “to have help while he’s moping. He can be–”

“A lot,” Storm finishes, “I know but…I’d appreciate that a lot.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby. We can–take him to the bar there or I can buy something on the way back and we can drink and just relax in his room.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you soon.”

God, I'm so boring and I'm so rude. Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you.

“I was thinking–are you even listening to me?”

“Hm? Yeah, totally.”

“Liar. You’re not even looking at me. You haven’t spoken in thirty five minutes. You’ve just shut me out.”

“Just because I’m not looking at my phone doesn’t mean I’m not listening. Also the fact you know how long I’ve been quiet is a bit weird.”

There’s a noise on the other end, “It’s not weird when you’re typically always talking. What are you doing anyway that’s apparently so important?”

“Looking for costume ideas for my competition,” Storm mutters while glancing at his phone for a second then back to his laptop, “what were you saying again?”

“So you were ignoring me. That’s rude, you know”

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was just prioritizing my competition--"

"Competition for what?"

"Figure skating," Storm glances at the screen then away, "and being genderfluid sometimes suck cause that means more costumes to fit the mood. Doesn't matter since you’re just talking my ear off and probably will continue talking my ear off for another another three hours about your cats,” Storm jokes and smirks hearing the noise that comes from the other end of the FaceTime call before he starts to mimic Max’s rant. 

Storm has heard the same playful rant so much that Storm has accidentally memorized it ever since the end of Silverstone with Storm and Max talking more often now, especially with Lando spending time with family and Quadrant which…Storm didn’t hate at all. 

The way you dress and the books you read. 

Storm was truly no better than a man or woman or person. Deep in the back of Storm’s mind, Storm is kicking himself right now for staring shamelessly at Max but how could they not? Any other time they’ve spoken to Red Bull’s current golden boy, he’s always in Red Bull merch which did not do him any justice. 

The plain black t-shirt and jeans with sneakers and a backwards cap? That was doing him all the justice in the world as the two sat at the bar, waiting for drinks. Storm knew where he should look but he was going to take every inch of Max’s figure in while he could. 

Storm started at his thighs. It was a shame Max didn’t wear shorts as often because he had some killer thighs. Honestly, Storm bet he could crush a watermelon easily with them…or Storm’s head. Either way, Storm would be very content. They also looked so rideable. Storm would love nothing more than to just swing a leg over and get himself off on Max’s thigh.

Moving his gaze up, Storm sucked his bottom lip between his teeth while staring at Max’s chest. The way the shirt clung to his chest was impossible to ignore. The way his muscles twitched and flex with the simplest of movements. Storm would kill to sink his teeth into his biceps or have a bicep around his waist or his throat.

Looking up more, Storm settles on studying Max’s face. How his eyes shine from the bar lights, how his jaw twitches slightly or his lips are together as he looks over before smiling brightly at Storm. Storm blinks before smiling back but glancing away, embarrassed for just staring Max down like a piece of meat. 

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me. When he's with me.

Time really does fly when you’re having fun. Storm had come to Monaco to hang out with Lando since he had the time off but he was stuck in meetings all day. Storm didn’t really want to sit in their hotel room by themselves so they had called Max. Max was more than kind to let Storm hang out at his apartment while Storm waited for Lando to finish his meetings.

What was meant to be a few hours turned into Storm walking around holding Jimmy and Sassy while Max was in the kitchen cooking dinner. What was just meant to kill some time turned into Storm trying to explain how wonderful Waffle House was to Max and “when you guys come to Austin, I have to take you!” What was meant to just be a quick stop turned into Storm and Max on the couch watching some really cheesy spoof movie with the cats just dissecting the movie.

“Oh my fucking god it’s almost midnight!” Storm proclaims when they finally check their phone. They don’t feel as bad since Lando sent a text apologizing that he’s been in meetings all day and had to handle stuff for Quadrant and he’d make it up to them, “I need to get back to the hotel–”

“Just stay.”

“What?” Storm looks.

“I said stay. It’s late,” Max forces himself to prop himself up on his elbows, “or I can take you back but you shouldn’t be driving. All the crazies are out.”

“That’s a kind offer but it’s fine,” Storm is looking around for their jacket, “besides. If you drive me, then I won’t have a car. What am I going to do then? Huh?” Turning to face him, “have you or Lando drive me all over town?” 

The silence that falls upon the apartment is almost comical. Storm is waiting for Max to answer but all instead they just get a blank face and finally an eyebrow raise as if Storm’s question was a stupid one. Shaking their head, Storm turns back around and grabs their things as there’s shuffling behind them.

“I appreciate the offer,” a silent one that is, “but really. I can handle a twenty minute drive back,” Storm turns and nearly jumps out their skin with how close Max is, who’s currently got his arm outstretched to grab a jacket, “what are you doing?”

“Walking you to the car.”

There’s no point of arguing with Max once his mind is made up. Any other time, Storm would argue but it’s late and Storm is counting their blessings that Max was letting them drive back to the hotel. The two chatted all the way there and Storm waved bye as Max watched them drive off.

Laying in their hotel bed, Storm stares at the ceiling before looking at the digital clock on their nightstand. 3am. Looking back at the ceiling, Storm tries to convince themselves that they can’t sleep is totally not because talking to Max was so easy and nice and they would’ve much preferred to stay up all night hanging out with him. They’re wide awake because they had to drive back and they’re struggling to fall back asleep.

It doesn't work but Storm can try. 

When he laughs at all my jokes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, it's just not fair of him to make me feel this much.

The week in Monaco is a blur in the best way possible.

Storm found herself with Max when she wasn’t running around with Lando. For most of it, they just hung out at his apartment watching movies or Storm learning way too much about F1 while Max was on the sim. Hell, she happily sits in the corner when he streams and swallows her giggles though it doesn’t matter. The chat can see Max turning to look back at Storm with that stupid, stunning smile.

I'll go anywhere he goes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up.

Storm wasn’t a huge party person. Sure, they enjoyed going out but the consistent partying like other celebrities and pro athletes? Not really and they always got teased about it by their friends.

Storm found themselves out at a club in Monaco, vibing to the music as they gently sway from side to side against the wall. “I should’ve taken being teased,” Storm mutters to themselves as they glance around the club. How people went clubbing by themselves, they would never know and they gave them so much credit for being that confident. Sighing gently, at least Storm could say they tried it and it wasn’t their vibe.

“Storm!”

Perking their head up, Storm’s a bit surprised to see Max making his way over, “what are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.”

‘He’s tipsy’ Storm thinks. Between his accent being thicker, the very slight slurred speech, and the alcohol–Red Bull and vodka–Storm deduces he’s tipsy at least. Putting their lips together, they can’t help but smile slightly as Max leans against the wall, wincing slightly when he hits it a bit harder than probably intended. 

“I asked you first.”

“Lando. Well Lando and Charles. They wanted a night out and I did promise Lando ‘next time’ and well,” gesturing to the club, “here I am.”

“Ah.”

“You?”

Storm instinctively leans back slightly when Max leans in slightly, “ If I had known Lando was organizing something, I probably would’ve come with you guys but I tried solo clubbing.”

“Find anyone?”

Storm practically jumps out of her skin at the new voice. Turning their head to the side, they see Lando on the other side, clutching their shirt. Relaxing when they realize that it’s just Lando, they settle against the wall to look at the two drivers. Mulling the question over, Storm tilts their head slightly.

“Is that all you think about?” Storm quirks a brow, “not everyone is looking for someone.”

“Are you?” Max asks.

“No–” Storm internally winces at how fast they answered, “I mean, not particularly,” they correct themselves considering the only two they would want currently have them trapped between them, “I’m a bit…”

“Picky?” Lando leans in with a smirk.

“Guarded,” Storm retorts.

They notice Lando’s eye dart to Max and they glances at Max, who shoots a look back at Lando. Unsure of the silent conversation happening right now, Storm decides as much as they would love to stay and be the center of these boys' attention and talk to their friends, they decide to give them the time to talk.

“Well,” Storm announces promptly, “this was a great chat but I have to go. Been here so long, you know,” pushing off the wall and just out of their grasp, Storm turns to them with a smile, “and I have a flight to catch in the morning so I’ll see you guys!”

Storm proceeds to slip onto the dance floor as the music drowns out the pleas from Lando and Max as the crowd swallows Storm whole before they exit on the other side. They cover their face in embarrassment. How stupid could they have been? That was the perfect situation to be in with their two crushes and yet they panicked and chickened out. Hopefully something eventful happens and they forget about this interaction.

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love. I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon but if the conversation ever were to come up I don't wanna assume this stuff…

“That was a really good job out there. I think you’re gonna do great at World’s this year. Maybe even win.”

“Thanks coach,” Storm says, skating over to the edge of the rink with a smile before waddling off carefully to sit on the bench and take her skates off, “you think so?”

“Yeah. Just keep up with what you’re doing. Don’t overwork yourself,” coach jokes as Storm ties her boots and grabs her bag, standing up. Laughing slightly, the two exit the rink before parting ways.

Taking their phone out, Storm checks her phone as she walks to her car. She opens her messages and is greeted with pictures of Jimmy and Sassy and Lando memeifying them. She sits in her car, laughing to herself as she finally answers.

STORM - LN

There you are! - MV

Here I am - ST

How was practice? - LN

Good! Coach thinks I can win World’s this year but I think she’s being nice. - ST

No, I think your coach is right. - MV

Yeah, your coach doesn’t say that shit slightly. You’ve told me first hand. - LN

Yeah but, I don’t know. One step at a time, you know? Let me get through the competition this week. - ST

WHAT? You’re competing and didn’t tell us?! - LN

I did! I said I’m gonna be busy with practice for the competition this week! Max, back me up. - ST

Lando’s right. We were unaware. - MV

Really? Shit, sorry guys. I swore I told you guys. - ST

BOOOOOO. I wanna see you compete :( - LN

Me as well. - MV

Well, maybe next time! Or I can, you know, teach you guys how to figure skate and do something. - ST

PLEASE. - LN

For Lando to break something? I don’t know. - MV

HEY. - LN

Haha, true. Well, I gotta drive home, talk to you guys soon! - ST

Laaaame, drive safe though! - LN

Text us when you get home. - MV

Text you. I’m stalking their location as we speak! - LN

But ain't it love? Think I'm in love.

“And our first place winner, taking it by a tenth of a point is…Justice Storm Thatcher!”

Storm stood dumbly in her spot on the side before she moved as the crowd erupted in applause. Making her way onto the ice, Storm skated over to the podium, thanking the other two winners when they offered their hands to help her up, smiling wide. She bent down for her medal before standing back up, smiling brightly. She couldn’t believe that she won her competition. 

After photos and congratulating the other two, who returned the congratulations, Storm made her way off the ice and hugged her coach tightly, beaming. She was speaking, they both were, but it was hard to hear over all the noise of everyone talking and leaving. 

Eventually, Storm emerges from the locker room in sweatpants, sporting her leotard as a top. She’s trying to find her friends that she knew came and she turns to hear her name being shouted. Spying a hand in the air, she starts making her through the crowd, half apologizing and half not caring. She sees an opening and bursts through before stopping in her tracks at the sight before her. 

“Storm!” Storm stumbles back when Lando barrels into her chest and she hugs back, not as hard as Lando, still in shock as Max makes his way over. 

Pulling back, Lando puts his hands on her chest, “You were amazing!”

“I–what are you guys doing here?!”

“You thought you’d have a competition and we wouldn’t be here?” Max asks, offended.

“Well no it’s just–” Storm is baffled. She really isn’t sure what to say and Lando laughs as Max pulls her into a hug that she also semi returns.

“Are those for me?” Storm asks as she’s handed a bouquet of flowers, looking between the two.

“Of course dude. You thought we’d show up empty handed?” Lando scoffs.

“It’s not a proper celebration if we don’t go out,” Max adds, “Storm, where are we going?”

“Applebee’s.”

“...I’ve never been to an Applebee’s,” Max admits and Lando nods in agreement

“What?! You guys haven’t been to an Applebee’s?! Oh come on. We have to go! I want my bucket of alcohol–”

“Bucket!?”

“That cannot be possible,” Max shakes his head.

“Come on!” Storm starts leading the charge out of the door, “let’s go! Bucket of alcohol and half-apps! On me!”

“You are NOT paying!” Lando and Max shout as they follow after her.

When he laughs at all my jokes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, it's just not fair of him to make me feel this much. I'll go anywhere he goes and he says I'm so American. Oh God, I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up…

Introducing Lando and Max to Applebee’s was better than winning any competition. They sat at a high top table, Storm seated across the two drivers. Storm nearly chokes on her water seeing the pure shock / joy that forms on the boys faces when the drinks arrive and Storm is handed a small bucket of alcohol. 

“Could we just have a few more minutes to decide?” Storm asks the waiter and smiles when the waiter agrees and leaves.

“What are you getting?” Max asks.

“Appetizers.”

“You just gave the performance of your life, and you want to get appetizers?” Lando asks.

“And?”

“You need food.”

“It’s half apps! You don’t come to Applebee’s at this hour to get an actual meal, you come for drinks and half apps. Trust me,” Storm huffs seeing the look Max and Lando exchange, “I’m telling you guys.”

Lando decides to follow suit with the appetizers and Max, begrudgingly, also follows suit when the waiter comes back around. Storm can’t help but cackle when they realize how big the portions are for just appetizers and the three end up staying for roughly an hour just talking and chatting while working on their food and drinks. 

Storm isn’t entirely happy that Lando and Max refused to let her pay or even help with the tip after she explained how tipping works. The three head out and the smart thing would be heading home and getting some sleep.

Instead, Storm finds herself stirring from her slumber the next morning as the sun creeps through the blinds. Rubbing her eyes, she closes her eyes and shifts hearing someone grunt. Storm tries to settle down but now she notices a weight on her and opens her eyes again.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she looks over seeing the digital clock read 2:10pm. She was supposed to stay a few hours but Max, Lando, and her had spent so long talking and goofing off that by the time someone, she can’t remember who, declared bed time, it was almost 4am. 

There’s a leg tossed over hers and an arm. Storm looks around and realizes she’s between bodies. Rubbing her eyes again, her eyes focus on blonde hair tousled to her left and curly dark hair to her right realizing that the three of them ended up in a cuddle pile. 

Storm makes the mistake of trying to sit up before Max and Lando both make some form of protest and Storm is pulled back down between them. Staring at the ceiling, Storm lets out a silent laugh.

I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love ~