#if I can i'll try to post it by this weekend

[luthordamnvers]

ficwip - ‘promise’

Thanks for the tag @nostradamus0

Just as you, I have to search by file, because I've been using ellipsus for a few months now. Alongside libreoffice, so, same difference.

[link to OP]

Spoilers from my own fics, I suppose????

keep on waiting (underneath the mistletoe) Chapter 2

In all honesty, Lena might be desperate enough to find someone to take to the Christmas party she had promised her best friends. "Oh, shit." Jess said, seconds later. "What?" Lena lightly jumped in her chair. "You already have three happy cupcakes." Jess announced. "That means that there are three whole humans that want to meet you." She explained. "Imagine if it had been an actual good pic. You have to go to the next party. There's a holiday mixer this Friday at a member's house. I'll text you the address. Promise me you'll go." Lena grimaced. "Promise!" "Fine. Okay… Jesus. I'll go."

Supercorp : Can we always be this close (forever and ever)? (Don't ask me what this fic is about, I have no clue, but that's the title of the doc)

Esme was staying with her while Alex and Kelly were on their honeymoon. And while she did know English, and she was technically born on Earth, while they were around each other (and presumably they would be a lot given Kara’s relationship with Alex; the kid was her niece for Rao’s sake), Esme was as Kryptonian as Kara herself. And she needed to learn to control those powers. Kara promised herself that she would try her best to teach her niece how to handle them, while her mothers were out of town. Thankfully, she didn’t need to try alone. Eliza was also staying with them for the weekend before returning to Midvale. 

The HoTD Supercorp AU (Have I watched this show? no... And what of it?)

“We will survive, Kara.” Kal said, when they mourned her parents, and they became ashes by dragon fire. The crown sitting heavy on his head. “You and I are the future of our house. It won’t die with us, I promise.”

"It doesn't really matter if you don't need to produce an heir, we are all destined to marry after all, Kara." Lena commented, reading a book, sitting under the Weirwood tree at the palace's garden. "Unless you become a priestess…" "Or a knight…" Kara offered, frowning. Her head resting on Lena's thighs. "Kal promised." Lena sighed, like always, closing her book to look directly at Kara. "I know he promised, Kara. And he will probably be true to his word, but you know that the usual rules wouldn't apply to you." Lena said.

An even older Hallmark Christmas AU - Supercorp

“Are you ready, Aunt Kara?” Esme’s adorable voice asked. “Not quite, Esme,” Kara grimaced to her 6-years-old niece. Esme pouted, in impressively perfect Danvers form. “This is all she's been talking about all day,” Alex, her own older sister, informed her. “Wanting to get a Christmas tree with you for the bakery.” “I know, I know. I promised, it’s our tradition,” Kara apologized, looking at the post-it on her hand again. “I'm just running a little behind on my orders.”

Untitled - Rojarias (actual first fic I started of them, still sitting on 7k words)

"Last time, you drank two whiskeys and then started giving them to me, and switched to ginger ale. You are a lightweight." Andrea pokes fun at her, a smile threatening to settle on her lips at Samantha's silence. "Want me to send you some ice cream, then?" "I have ice cream…"  "I will buy you a drink tomorrow. After our big meeting, I promise." She says softly. "Hell or high water."

All three of them reconvened at Samantha's house, Andrea showed up to the suburban house with a newly-bought bottle of Macallan Sherry Oak.  Lena snickers at it as soon as she sees it. "You really need to update your moves." "It's definitely not a move," Andrea lifts a brow. "I promised Arias a drink last night. I'm just following through." 

That's all I got... I think...

No pressure tags @fazedlight @snowydragonscave @mycatismyeditor @tedgruver69 @thatonebirdwrites @fyonahmacnally

[whowritessometimes]

Coasting - Art Donaldson x Reader

BMX, a small beach town, a crappy waitressing job, & your last summer at home.

aka a cute little slowburn bmx art donaldson & reader fic. coming of age movie vibes. enjoy!!

word count: 5.2k

---

The clinking of glasses and plates and knives, the sound of the ocean, the drone of idle conversation, some obscure reggae playlist. Those were the sounds that you heard, day in and day out, soft in the background while you bussed tables and chatted with your best friend, Tashi Duncan. The sun was just about to set as you glided around High Tide, the hole-in-the-wall beach café you had waitressed at every summer since you could work. Right now, it was that weird lull in the late afternoon just before dinner.

Walking back behind the counter, you caught a glimpse of the camcorder in your bag you kept tucked away for when you got a spare moment. Tashi had been asking you all week to film another one of her BMX sessions. She was planning on posting it—she always had something she wanted to showcase, whether it was a new trick, a new outfit, or just a good shot of her flying through the air. And you loved it. Capturing the way the light hit the steel of her bike as she soared, or the thrill on her face when she pulled off a trick, was second nature to you. Photography and videography were more than a hobby; they were a way for you to capture what felt like fleeting moments. Every shot you took seemed to tell a story, one you could hold onto for just a little longer.

Tashi nudged you from behind, her eyes glinting with excitement as she stepped up to the counter. "So, I was thinking," she began, not even giving you a chance to greet her before she jumped into her idea. "Maybe we could shoot something tomorrow?"

You smiled, folding some cutlery into a napkin. “You're telling me I should use my precious weekend to watch you flip around on a bike for hours?”

“I'll buy you that weird coconut ice cream you like!”

You didn't really need the incentive, this had been your routine pretty much every summer: work, gossip, shoot Tashi and whoever else of your friends happened to be at the park. You tried not to dwell on the fact that it was your last summer at home, that this wouldn't ever be routine again.

"It's not that weird. And yeah, sounds fun."

"I'll pick you up at 1!"

Just as you were about to respond, the café door swung open, the bell above it jingling. The dinner crowd was starting to filter in—locals, some tourists—and the BMX guys you hung around during the summer. Despite you only really knowing how to ride a bike for transportation reasons, this was the group you inadvertently fell into. And they seemed to like you, or at least your camera. Or Tashi. Or High Tide. They all waltzed in, laughing about something, clapping each other on their shoulders, a cloud of sand and summer air (and probably weed) following them inside.

Art Donaldson, the lanky BMX prodigy of the town, and your crush since he sat next to you in your math class sophomore year, was always one of the last ones to join the group. His presence was unmistakable, but it was his quiet nature that made him stick out even more. He didn't rush into the room with the same energy as his best friend Patrick Zweig or the others; he just slipped in like a shadow, calm and observant.

Patrick, being Patrick, immediately spotted you. He raised a hand and waved, his grin wide and mischievous. “Hey, look who’s still working,” he said, his voice cutting through the hum of the café.

You laughed, moving towards the front of the counter to take their order. Patrick continued to talk, rambling about something inconsequential, but you caught a brief flicker of a glance from Art when your eyes met his.

You quickly turned your attention back to Patrick. “What can I get for you guys?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

Tashi, who had quietly watched the interaction from behind the counter, leaned in slightly as she adjusted the straps of her helmet. “You’ve been staring at him all summer,” she whispered, her voice a mix of teasing and curiosity.

“Stop,” you said quickly, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “I’m not—he’s just… you know. Art.”

Tashi raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Art, who you're in love with.” She said the word love in a sing-song voice, and you had to fight to suppress your smile and roll your eyes.

“Okay. I have to go put this order in. And I'm not in love with him.”

Tashi grinned knowingly. “Mhm. You’re just avoiding it.”

Before you could argue further, you moved toward the kitchen to get their drinks ready, and you couldn’t help but notice Art again. He stood with his back to the counter, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, looking out at the fading light through the large windows that lined the café, absently listening to the mindless conversation of his friends. As if he could sense you staring, he turned around, grinning sheepishly and running a hand through his hair when you made eye contact. You sent back a flushed smile and a small wave before pivoting on your heel and promptly hiding in the kitchen.

“Chill, you’re fine,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing a tray of drinks to deliver to the table.

When you returned to the counter, Art and the guys were settling into their usual booth by the window, the sun casting a golden glow on everything outside. Art had his back to you, but you could feel his presence, even from across the room.

Tashi, ever the observant one, nudged you with her elbow, making you jump. “So, how was that look I just saw? You freaking out now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said quickly, focusing on the drinks you were preparing, trying to ignore her smirk.

“You looked like you were about to burst into flames.” Tashi’s voice was soft, but you could hear the humor behind it.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. Tashi had been in your corner about Art from the start. She was the one who encouraged you to ask him for photos back when you first picked up a camera and realized how much you enjoyed capturing moments. Ever since then, Art had been the subject of most of your best shots. And the subject of some of your best memories, too. You rarely hung out with him one-on-one, but whenever you were in a group setting, he had this way of making you feel included. And a way of making you feel like you and him were the only two people there.

“Okay,” Tashi pressed, leaning a little closer. “So, are we pretending that Art’s not going to ask you out or are we just gonna let you guys keep doing the whole will-they-won't-they thing?”

You shot her a look. “I’m not doing this right now.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender, but you could see the teasing glint still in her eyes. “Fine, fine, I’ll let you have your mystery.”

You glanced back toward the booth where Art and the crew were talking, trying to focus on anything else. Art had settled into his usual relaxed posture—arms stretched out along the back of the booth, a faint smile on his lips as Patrick animatedly told another story. He was always so laid-back, but there was a certain warmth about him that you couldn’t ignore. And it wasn’t just his presence—it was the way he was with his friends, how he listened when they talked, how he had a way of making even the smallest moment feel special.

Your phone buzzed, breaking your trance. You glanced at the screen—Tashi texting you details for tomorrow's shoot followed by about a million incoherent and entirely unrelated emojis.

You chuckled to yourself, making a mental note to set the alarm early and get the camera ready. As you were typing out a response, you heard a soft voice from behind you.

“Hey, you busy?” Art’s voice was low, and even though you hadn’t expected him to approach, it didn’t startle you.

You turned to find him standing just behind the counter, the light from the window casting a warm glow around his silhouette. His presence was effortlessly calm, like he was just... there. Not demanding anything from you, but still managing to make your heart beat a little faster.

“Not too busy,” you replied, looking up at him. “Just the usual.”

He nodded, his lips quirking into a small, easy smile. “I meant to ask earlier,” he said, his hands in his pockets as he leaned a little closer to the counter, “You free tomorrow afternoon?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly recovered by glancing at Tashi, who was pretending to be busy but clearly trying not to watch the conversation unfold.

“I’m filming for Tashi tomorrow, actually,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but there was that flutter in your chest again. "Why?"

Art raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to go get something to eat. But, uh, I'm going to that place on the pier with the onion rings later if you want to come."

There it was. The simplest, calmest invitation that could have easily been overlooked by anyone else. But for you, it felt like the universe had just delivered exactly what you wanted without any fanfare. He wasn’t overthinking it, wasn’t being mysterious. He was just... asking.

“Yeah, I could do that,” you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “You remember the onion rings?”

Art’s smile widened ever so slightly, and you could swear there was a spark of something—maybe relief, maybe happiness—flickering in his eyes. He didn't answer your question. Instead, he said, “I’ll meet you around six?”

“Six sounds good,” you said, nodding back. He gave you one last smile before turning back to the table.

You had always had some constants in your life. You had photography, you had High Tide, you had Tashi, and you had onion rings. Your favorite place on the pier, one of those old Airstream trailers that had been converted into a restaurant. You were caught off-guard when Art mentioned it. You'd gone with him a few times, and he had listened to your rants about the onion rings. But it wasn't usually just the two of you. But he remembered. Your head was kind of spinning.

Tashi nudged out of your trance, this time with a full-on grin. “See? I told you it was only a matter of time.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile that spread across your face betrayed you. “Yeah, yeah," you said, trying (and failing) to sound unaffected.

---

The pier was quiet when you and Art finally made your way there, the ocean stretching endlessly in front of you, the sound of the waves crashing softly against the shore. The sky had faded into a deep indigo, stars just beginning to twinkle above. The scent of salt and fried food mixed in the air as you approached the little Airstream that had been serving the best comfort food on the coast for as long as you could remember.

It felt different tonight, though. More peaceful. More... effortless. Just the two of you, walking side by side with no real rush.

You stood in line while Art ordered, the woman behind the window grinning knowingly as she handed him the takeout bag. “Got a feeling you’d be back for more,” she joked, but Art just shrugged in his usual, easy way.

“Couldn’t help it,” he said with a quiet smile, turning to you. “You were right about these. It’s hard to stay away.”

You gave him a small grin, feeling the pull of his attention in a way you hadn’t before. He wasn’t rushing to fill the silence, just existing in it. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t forced. It was... easy.

You walked over to a bench by the edge of the pier and sat down, both of you leaning back as you opened the bag and pulled out your share of the food. The breeze from the ocean was cool against your skin, the faint hum of the waves blending with the distant chatter of people further down the pier.

“So,” you said after a few moments of comfortable silence, breaking into the food, “how’ve you been?”

Art glanced sideways at you, his gaze thoughtful. “Busy. Same old. You?”

“Same here. Just, you know, work. With Tashi and all.” You paused, then added, “Trying not to get too much sand in the camera.”

He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and for a moment, you both just shared a quiet laugh. It wasn’t an elaborate joke, but it was real. Like this moment, with him, was real.

You took another bite and leaned back into the bench, stretching your legs out in front of you, your feet tucked into your sneakers. The sun had set a while ago, but the horizon was still glowing faintly, like the world had been painted in colors you could never quite capture. The stars were scattered above like a thousand tiny little secrets.

Art was quiet for a while, his gaze out on the ocean as he ate, but you weren’t uncomfortable. It felt like the kind of silence you could just sink into, where you didn’t need to fill every moment with words, because you both understood that sometimes, not speaking was the most honest thing you could do.

“I didn’t think you’d ask me out here,” you said suddenly, the words just slipping out. It was a little vulnerable, a little self-conscious, but you couldn’t take it back now.

Art glanced over at you, his lips curving into that smile of his. “Why not?”

You shrugged, feeling the heat rise to your face. “I don’t know. You’re always... with your friends. I just thought you’d be busy.”

He paused, chewing for a second before he answered, his tone more serious than you expected. “I don’t like being busy just to be busy.”

There was something in the way he said it, a depth behind his words that made you look at him a little differently. You couldn’t quite place it, but something about the way he approached life—so calm, so deliberate, but still present—was unlike anyone else you’d ever known.

“I get that,” you said, nodding, your voice quieter now. “It’s good to slow down sometimes.”

Art met your eyes, and for a second, you both just held the moment, neither of you needing to say anything more. It was a connection. And it was simple, but it was there. And for once, neither of you was trying to rush through it.

“Did you always know you’d be here this summer?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence again.

You tilted your head, considering it. “I don’t think I ever really thought about it, to be honest. It’s just... always been this way, you know?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze drifting out to the water. “Yeah, I get it."

For a moment, you both looked out at the ocean, the rhythm of the waves syncing with the calm in the air around you. It felt easy, almost like this was what you were supposed to be doing all along. Not rushing anywhere, just sharing space, sharing time.

“Maybe we should do this more often,” you said lightly, breaking the quiet.

Art gave you a half-smile, his eyes soft but content. “I think I’d like that.”

You were about to say something else when he spoke again, his tone almost shy. “You know, I’m glad you said yes. I wasn’t sure if...”

You raised an eyebrow. “If I’d show up?”

He nodded, his expression a mix of self-deprecating humor and honesty. “Yeah. Figured you had better things to do than hang out with me.”

You could feel the weight of his words, the quiet vulnerability behind them. You didn’t know exactly what was going on in his head, but you could tell he didn’t often put himself out there like this.

You smiled softly, nudging him with your elbow. “You don’t have to worry about that. I like spending time with you.”

The words hung in the air between you two for a long beat. Then Art’s gaze softened, and he gave you a small but genuine smile, the kind that made you feel like everything had just fallen into place in a way it hadn’t before.

The conversation drifted back into the easy flow of a summer night, small talk about random things, your voices low and comfortable, as the sounds of the ocean and the soft rustling of the wind filled the space around you. The food was forgotten for a moment, but neither of you minded.

And just like that, the evening felt like its own quiet, perfect thing. Unspoken, but understood.

---

The park was quieter than usual for a Saturday, the afternoon crowd still drifting in, some starting their warm-up routines, others talking or laughing with friends.

You watched Tashi land a clean trick and, almost instinctively, your fingers adjusted the camera settings. It was easy to focus on her—her energy contagious, her confidence enough to keep you grounded as you clicked away. BMX was her thing, and capturing her in motion was like catching fire in a bottle. But today, there was something different in the air, something just outside of your control.

You could feel it in the way the park seemed to have shifted, in the way Art stood off to the side, half-listening to his friends, half-distracted. His presence was subtle, but it always demanded attention, like the way the ocean would silently pull you in, its waves irresistible.

The moment you caught his eye across the park, you knew it wasn’t just the camera’s lens that had you transfixed. You could feel the weight of his gaze from where you stood, like a soft pressure against your chest. The smile he gave you was small, but it lingered longer than it should have, a quiet acknowledgment of something unspoken.

But you didn’t acknowledge it—not right away. Instead, you turned back to Tashi, adjusting the angle of the camera, trying to stay in the moment.

“Everything okay?” Tashi called out, leaning against the metal frame of her bike, pulling her helmet off. Her voice was playful, but there was a note of curiosity beneath it, like she could feel the shift in the air too.

“Yeah,” you muttered, forcing your focus back on her. “Just... taking a shot.”

She raised an eyebrow, but before she could tease you, she was back in motion. You clicked the shutter again, the camera capturing her effortless flow, but your mind was elsewhere. Or more precisely, on him.

You knew Tashi could sense it, too. She knew you better than anyone, after all. There was a tension in the air now, thick and palpable, something that neither of you could ignore. Everyone could see it—the way you and Art kept glancing at each other when you thought no one was watching, the way conversations seemed to stretch between you two, lingering with things unsaid. But neither of you was willing to break that unspoken boundary. Not yet.

It wasn’t like there was a clear moment that everything shifted. It was more like the tide slowly pulling at the shore, little by little, until you were both standing in a place where you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You were snapping a few more shots of Tashi when you felt that familiar presence. The subtle shift in the atmosphere. It was Art, crossing the park toward you with that lazy, effortless stride, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Except you both knew better. There was a quiet intensity that always followed him, an unspoken thing between you that neither of you seemed eager to disrupt.

But you both knew what was there. You knew the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching, the way your pulse quickened when your eyes met his across the crowd. Neither of you was saying it out loud, but it was there—slowly building, like the tide rolling in, too soft to resist.

Tashi glided back over, cutting through the silence with her usual exuberance. “Okay, okay, now I want you to take a picture of me and Art together!” she said, flashing a grin at you.

The moment shattered, and you tried to hide your smile behind the camera. But you felt it—Art’s glance, lingering just a fraction of a second longer than normal, like he was holding onto something he didn’t quite know how to say.

Tashi noticed, of course. She was always the first one to notice when something shifted. “You know,” she murmured, nudging you, “I’m starting to think you two are the only ones who don’t see what’s going on.”

You rolled your eyes, though the warm flush on your cheeks gave you away. “Please,” you muttered. “We’re just friends.”

Tashi didn’t even try to hide the grin as she took her place in front of you. “Mmhmm. Just friends.”

Art, standing just off to the side, offered a quiet chuckle. But there was a softness in his gaze when it found yours. No teasing. Just that same quiet, undeniable connection.

The shoot went on, the shots flowing one after the other. But all you could focus on was the way Art’s presence never quite left your periphery, the way every glance, every quiet word, seemed to say so much more than you both wanted to admit.

---

The night ended like most of your Saturdays: a kickback on the beach, surrounded by the familiar buzz of friends, tourists, and transplants. Red solo cups were scattered around like confetti—some with liquor, others with cheap beer, a few spiked lemonades. Somewhere in the mix, a joint was being passed around, its faint smoke drifting lazily into the night air.

You were curled up against Tashi, your head resting on her shoulder, the two of you passing a bottle of hard seltzer back and forth. The conversations around you faded into a pleasant hum, the guys off in the distance trying to start a bonfire that seemed doomed from the start, their loud banter drifting over the sand. The air was warm, the waves crashed softly in the distance and everything felt easy.

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, and now the only light came from the flickering remnants of the sunset and the scattered bonfire embers. You and Tashi drifted into one of those easy, low-stakes conversations, the kind where you talked about nothing and everything at once.

But then, as always, you found your eyes wandering. You scanned the beach for Art. It wasn’t conscious, it just happened—your gaze always seemed to gravitate toward him.

Tashi’s lips twitched into a knowing smile, and without missing a beat, she gently nudged her shoulder against your head, nudging you out of your quiet reverie.

"You should go sit with him," she said, her voice soft but insistent. It wasn’t teasing like it normally would’ve been—it was more like an invitation. A little nudge toward something she could see that you hadn’t quite admitted to yourself yet.

"I can't," you muttered, pulling the bottle of seltzer up to your lips, avoiding her eyes for just a second too long.

"Yes, you can," she replied, her voice so confident that you couldn’t help but meet her gaze.

You hesitated, caught between the pull of her words and the uncertainty creeping up from your chest. "What if—"

Tashi cut you off, lifting her chin and pointing toward Art, who was leaning against a nearby palm tree, looking out at the ocean, seemingly lost in thought but still aware of the group around him.

“Go,” she said simply, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

And in that moment, with the warmth of her encouragement surrounding you, you knew she was right. You could go. You should go.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up from her shoulder, the sand shifting beneath you. The bottle of seltzer was still in your hand, but now it felt like an anchor you didn’t need anymore. The noise of the group around you faded as you started to move, your heart beating a little faster, a little louder, as you took that first step toward Art.

As you reached him, you stopped a little closer than you usually would, just within his reach, your eyes meeting his. He looked down at you, a flicker of surprise flashing through his gaze before he quickly masked it with that usual, easy smile of his.

"Hey," you said, the word feeling like it was the first one you’d said all night.

"Hey," Art answered back, his voice a little lower than usual, almost like he was aware of the space between you two in a way you hadn’t noticed before. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," you said with a small shrug. "Just wanted to say hi."

"Hi." His gaze was soft, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You smiled back, the air between you two thick with all the things neither of you had said yet. The tension was palpable, and for a moment, neither of you knew how to cut through it.

Before you could say anything else, Patrick’s voice rang out across the beach.

"Night swim!!"

He was grinning wide, his energy infectious, as he waved his arms dramatically. This was a common occurrence, and you and Art rolled your eyes simultaneously. Like clockwork, Patrick demanded everyone jump into any nearby body of water at almost every party or kickback.

And the group erupted into motion—laughter, whoops, and the sound of sandals slapping against the sand as everyone ran toward the water, shouting and teasing each other about who would jump in first.

You and Art found each other's gaze again, and he reached for your hand, fingers brushing against yours in that familiar, electric way that sent a jolt through your body. Without waiting for you to process, he gently tugged you toward the water, the sound of the waves now loud and inviting in the distance.

You grinned in agreement, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren't a stranger to the Patrick Zweig Night Swim, but you usually made your way into the water with Tashi. This was all new to you (but very welcome).

The two of you kicked up sand in your wake, laughing and picking up your pace, hands grasping each other tightly except to remove various articles of clothing. You tried not to stare at his toned chest and arms, the tan on his skin, the faint freckles across his shoulders.

You tugged your hoodie over your head, leaving you in your bikini just as you felt your toes hit the water.

The ocean stretched out in front of you, dark and welcoming. You hesitated for just a second, the water a cool, inviting unknown.

Art grinned, glancing at you quickly. "You good?"

"I guess so." You laughed.

With that, you both stepped into the surf, the water crashing around your feet as you waded deeper, the chill of the ocean wrapping around your ankles and calves. The night was filled with the sounds of your friends behind you, all of them laughing and splashing, but it was you and Art that seemed to drift away from the chaos, wading out further into the deeper water together.

As the water rose higher, up to your thighs, you turned to face him, feeling the cool waves tug at you both.

“You sure this is a good idea?” you teased, eyes meeting his, your voice light but the tension still there, coiled between you two. The quiet hum of the waves seemed to settle around you.

Art’s smile faltered just slightly, like he didn’t know how to answer, or maybe he didn’t need to. His eyes flickered down to where the water had soaked your top, redness creeping up his neck.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice suddenly quieter, more serious. “'S a good idea.”

There was something in the way he said it, a soft edge to his words that made your heart beat a little faster and your head buzz, like you were drunk (but not from the seltzer).

You stepped a little closer, the saltwater lapping at your knees, the light from the beach just far enough to make everything feel like a dream—beautiful and fleeting.

For a second, everything between you two hung in the air. Then, as if on instinct, Art took a half step closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he brushed a damp strand of hair from your face.

"Can I kiss you?"

And despite the cold water, your face grew impossibly warmer as you nodded.

And then, almost without warning, Art leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was as slow as the waves but as powerful as the pull of the ocean itself.

For that instant, everything faded—the noise from the beach, the cold of the water, the summer air, and all you could focus on was the warmth of his lips, the gentle pressure of his hands on your body, the way he seemed to breathe life into you with each movement. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frantic. His hands couldn't seem to decide where they wanted to rest, slowly moving from your waist to the nape of your neck. You could feel his smile in the kiss, and he could feel yours. It was all teeth and noses and salt and sand and the occasional laugh and it was perfect.

The coolness of the water lapping at your skin was nothing compared to the heat running through you. Your heart raced, your breath short as you kissed him back, your hands finding their place on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

When you pulled back just enough to breathe, you both stayed close, foreheads touching, your hands still tangled together in the water. Art’s face was flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked at you with that same soft, almost shy expression.

"I really like you," he muttered, the words just slipping out, and his flustered grin made you laugh, a little breathless.

"Yeah?" you teased, your fingers still tangled with his. "I really like you too."

Art glanced away briefly, the blush deepening, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

For a moment, neither of you said anything more. Just standing there in the quiet of the night, with the water around you and the stars above. Yeah, it was your last summer here, but everything with Art made you realize how things weren't really ending at all.

[aflawedfashion]

I am working on two Mel/Ben fics

One short one where Melanie is in episode 5 and one longer one that takes place post season 4

[warmauarchives]

Hi! Been a reader of warm au since 2019 and suddenly missed her then I just learned she deactivated already 😭. Thank you so so so much for this account. I just want to ask if you also happened to reblog her posts/works from 2019 too?

Hi!! I don't really remember when I started this blog so I'm not sure, but I know there's a master list somewhere on here... it's probably pretty far back but you can try to look for it if you want? I also know that qtfighter has a lot of her posts but idk how far back their posts go sorry ><

[batsplat]

jorge martin is just an off-brand motogp version of george russell. both incredible qualifiers, hard racers, have issues sometimes keeping their tyres together, have stayed in a satellite/backmarker team for three years begging the big manufacturer to accept them into the main fold and will randomly decide that they are actually done with race by beefing it into the gravel/walls on the last laps.

this is why ducati did not hire martin, he hasn’t done the power point presentation

strong last line but hm... do I agree with this...

I don't entirely disagree with the profile of racer, though jorge's a bit more in the flame bright and early mould (partly also just because of the different rhythms of those two racing series). he cut his teeth not just on being an exceptional qualifier but also a starter. even though this year, you do kinda have to say pecco's just?? uh?? he's never been a BAD starter but I swear he didn't used to be this good? some of his starts from the second or third row this year have been genuine works of art. this isn't relevant, just needed to mention it. that's part of why jorge does so well at sprints... he's really good at that abbreviated format, where it's just all out from the very start. mr russell was considered quite a poor starter in his williams days (though lbr that may have partly been car characteristics) - the qualifying's very strong and very consistent, but for a while the question was of capitalising off the line. he's got a few more drives that are about working his way through the field... like qatar last year. I just don't really associate jorge with that?

the bottling thing is debatable and we could get into that debate, but like, never mind that. we're leaving sports analysis now and getting back into vibes territory. the thing about jorge is that he has had a competitive bike from the word go. mr russell, whatever you think about how clutch he is or isn't, did not set a foot wrong in terms of making the mercedes case for himself. what happened with him was basically just... a series of unfortunate events that got him stuck in a spectacularly uncompetitive car for three years. got one shot in a good car in said three years (sakhir 2020) and delivered the perfect performance. but jorge!! jorge had 2022!! he blew it!! he did get unlucky with the gp22 vs the gp21 comparison early that season and how bastianini was able to take advantage of the early stage factory spec malaise, and he's far from the only gp22 who was struggling early on (cf one 'pecco bagnaia'). but still, some of his rides that year were. truly horrendous. and the way the whole thing played out left him with a massive chip on the shoulder.... that's the thing, right, I think what's so key about jorge is that sense of grievance, the fact that he was rejected for that factory seat and we're now several years on from that. and it's a really thin line between that being a good thing and a bad thing. like, anything that's a potential source of motivation fundamentally can be helpful, right? in 2007, casey showed up at ducati as not their first choice, kinda a stopgap, and also after yamaha had pulled the plug on a potential contract not once but twice. he has spoken again and again how yamaha and honda's behaviour towards him made him want to show them exactly what they were missing out on. he used that! it was good for him as a competitor that he had something to get worked up over! he's done it throughout his career! but on the flip side, if you're so busy feeling victimised that you're kind of already... primed for failure, then you've got a problem. like, if the takeaway is you're probably screwed anyway because you're being sabotaged by the factory, then even if that were true you're fucked before you start competing. you've already lost in your own head, you've made excuses before you've even started. it's a thin line! thinking the world is out to get you can either be a good way to get yourself to going, or it can be a loser mindset

quickly circling back to georgie boy, my main feeling is that they kinda have a different type of malaise. one is an overthinker and the other is at times very much an under-thinker. grussy actually shares the overthinking trait with his fellow 63 more than anyone else... all three kinda have this fun meeting point of a lot of cockiness and a lot of insecurity - they just balance them in other ways. and russell reminds me more of pecco in that kind of... being constantly thrown up against a Big Legacy of someone you admire, being in the shadow of greats and having to make your own name... you're very much part of a succession plan that leaves you with massive shoes to fill... (though admittedly grussy has also gone through the unenviable experience of getting to work closely with his hero and eventually having most of said hero's fans absolutely despise him. can happen, I suppose.) jorge is a bit more baggage-free. he's very much the main character in his own story, not so much faffing about with the narrative implications of all this shit. more straightforward! if jorge wins, it's about him. if he loses, it's also about him. ducati has been his world for the past few years, to the point where he's gotten a bit parochial about the whole thing. early this season, he was talking like - sure, the championship lead is important, BUT this is also giving him power in contract negotiations!! which... yes, that's true, but also that should be way down the order of priorities my man. jorge martin might be the only person in this universe who... genuinely might be more obsessed with beating pecco than marc? like, beating the marc marquez would be great and all, 8x world champion bla bla, but pecco is his personal antagonist! he's known him for years! that's ducati's golden boy! he needs to beat pecco so badly! there's something really fun about a rivalry where it feels like at least one side's feelings towards the other... kinda go beyond a personal relationship, like at a certain point it becomes about what the other guy Represents. jorge isn't worried about legacy and the shoes he's got to fill and can he truly live up to all those expectations as much as he's worried about himself and also occasionally pecco bagnaia

anyway, I've been thinking about the bottling thing... what jorge said about it earlier's been rattling around in my head since I saw the quote

man, it must be really tough, right? like, you don't know why it's happening... it's not just cockiness - though there is an element of someone who's kinda used to bulldozing his way through problems with sheer obstinacy and stubborn self belief (another distinction with the 63's, who are more introspective and prone to self-flagellation following mistakes). but it's also just... you can't figure out why it's such a fundamental shortcoming of your game! today, from the way pecco and also luca (apparently) were talking about it, it seems like there was something noticeable about how jorge was gradually losing a bit in his control and precision as a result of how the tyres were going off, as a sort of precursor of the fatal error. which... well, it's at least a somewhat understandable mistake, because it comes from pressure? it's not just the tyres going off each time - the mugello sprint crash was lap four, jerez was lap ten. but an interesting thing about his big errors this year is that they have all come as a result of serious pressure - as a result of pecco directly behind him in the case of jerez and sachsenring and like... in anticipation of the massive points damage he knew he was probably going to take in mugello. it sounds obvious to say pressure is more likely to generate mistakes, but of course that's not always true of our title contenders! pecco only really wakes up when he's already dug a hole halfway to the centre of the earth - but when he faces actual pressure, his track record is mostly very strong. his biggest howlers this season, portimao + catalunya sprints, both came when he was leading comfortably. martin has also made these pressure-light mistakes in the past, most memorably indonesia last year but... well

one of the most fascinating bits of sports are like... limits and ceilings and how your build-up as an athlete kinda determines what's possible for you. like, sports is sort of where you experiment with notions of fate and inevitability and all that, where you question whether it's possible for anyone to ever really change. is it once a choker, always a choker? if you know that you have this problem, this flaw that is always just there in the background, waiting to be actualised - what can you do? does it give you more or less hope that there's not a clear root cause? how debilitating that must be for confidence too, always knowing that you could cause everything you've worked for to crash down in a moment.... this is where. y'know, the thing with pecco, right, is that he's now gotten to a weird place where psychologically he has to be wary of the mistakes he himself makes - but he knows that he can also bounce back from them. he has that muscle memory, because he's done it before. he chucked it down the road in india and he won the title! jorge did it in thailand and he didn't! and the problem is that it becomes a self-reinforcing cycle of sorts, because even though the margin between the two of them at the end of last year ended up being relatively slim... one of them still won and one of them still lost. which actually means that even though pecco and jorge both have made serious mistakes this year (though pecco's track record is cleaner - in portimao the points punishment didn't quite fit the crime and in the jerez/le mans sprints he was kinda just unlucky), only one of them knows they can do this shit and win the title anyway

and now jorge has an entire summer break to go away and think about that. can be a good thing, get some distance, and it's easy to slip into a run of bad form that you can't escape if there's no interruption. can be an awful thing because you're sitting with your mistakes for weeks on end with no chance to rectify them. I'm naturally a pessimist on the 'can any athlete ever really change' question because life has very much worn me down on this topic over the last few years (aka some sports results made me really sad). but I always want to be optimistic! I want to believe athletes can fix their fatal flaws! I want to believe they can get better at managing their tyres and not folding under pressure. and pressure works weirdly... sometimes it's not really a test of 'mental strength' as much as it is of what kind of in-built margin an athlete has (btw this is my best guess for what goes wrong with martin). sometimes it's beneficial in sharpening the mind and erasing the possibility of you just... not being sufficiently concentrated (which is my best guess for what happens with pecco when he's not being pressured). can you truly get better at dealing with that? or at a certain point, have you already accumulated so much mental scar tissue that you're always going to get in your own way? who knows! maybe we're all doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past forever and ever. who knows

anyway. in response to this ask. I do think it's more a case of 63's aligned in being too stuck in their own head, too concerned with legacy, and walking a very thin line between arrogance and insecurity. all three of them, though, have a bad case of 'coming through the ranks in an era of greats they'll always be disparagingly compared to'. what's new can never be as good as what came before, right? and they're constantly struggling to manage or maybe even overcome basic flaws that seem to be embedded in their make up as competitors... maybe they'll make it, just a little. maybe they never will. but it sure is fun to watch them try!

[andessence]

hello treasured mutuals! if you have not absolutely had it up to here with me for fixating so heavily on the vampire armand lately.... if indeed you are here for the armand content ..... and we don't have any threads underway, today i offer you STARTER CALL FOR ARMAND. tomorrow? who knows...

[imtrashraccoon]

Question: Should I make Friday an official update day? I've been thinking about this for a while since at the moment it's one of my days off and since it falls at the end of the week, I usually have something ready to post that I've been working on all week.

This doesn't necessarily mean I'll always have something to update since sometimes writing takes longer but it would mean some consistency. It's either this or Monday but I don't know if I want to do that.

[askthekirbysquad]

I don't have any asks to post this weekend because of the PMV I've been working on, but I figured I'd at least share a few frames from it!

[ehnrat]

late night thinkin about what if i did art streams again :0c

[kyunsies]

everyone HELLO how are we doing :)

[patriciavetinari]

I genuinely don't know what's wrongn with me. I'm trying to fogure this our. First I thought I was wronged and now I feel ashamed of my horrible luck with people. People who call themseves my friends all seem to have out of sight out of mind attitude with me.

Noone in rela life seems to remeber I exist. If it's not me trying to organize a meetup – they don't text me, they don't ask me to their houses or to have a coffee on a weekend. And if it is me tugging on them and suggesting things – in most cases they are Busy even if I text a month in advance or they are hanging out with Better Friends.

It's not even about getting set up for a date anymore. I'm genuinely freaking out that I'm secretly a horrible person that noone wants me unless it's work-related where most my acquaintances these days come from.

Is it me not being on social media? Is it me not being able to give them my insta where they could comment on my photo of a coffee I'm getting? Is it me being opinionated?

I'm doing fucking everything I ever heard as an advice on being personable charming agreeable people-person. I notice their interests, I smile and give compliments and give praise when warranted and make sure all proper people get proper credit for their achievements, I recommend things I know about and am curious about things they can recommend, I've had one person not believe me saying I'm a lonely introvert, I look at baby pictures and congratulate people sincerely on getting their house or having their wedding, I have colleague who shares stories about her teenager kids and I listen and I offer advice and symathy. I'm fat and have been fat as a child so I had to be a clown to be accepted so I can make people cry with my jokes and I know it's not faked and it doesn't matter.

And yet none of those people want me elsewhere. Even if we have each other on whatsapp and with some we are even in group chats, but if it's not me tugging and timidly asking if they'd like to go somewhere sometime, maybe check out that new coffee place – it's radio silence. I try to start a concersation on how Someone is – I get an answer that they're fine, busy, and nothing else, not even a question back, no details, no offer to discuss over a drink or even have a bloody phone call just to chat away.

Noone tugs on me, noone asks me out, noone wants to make plans, noone wants me at their houses or in their existing friend groups, noone even sends any memes or anything. Nothing that I was told would happen if I learned to make friends.

I don't understand what is so horrible about me or what am I doing wrong or not enough of. Do I need an instagram account to be considered easier to reach or what? What is the secret that I'm missing?

[saintlesbian]

hiiiii i just had a really good job interview this morning so i am in a GREAT mood 2day ^_^ and now im really in the mood to draw so. I’m thinking i might stream l8r

also i wanted to do a 48 hour zine challenge so. im makin a lil sprina fanzine 4 fun lol... here’s a sketch i did 4 tha cover so far

[thethingything]

so it turns out we have covid again (I think this is the 7th time? despite us not going outside) but we had it in February as well and we feel nowhere near as bad as we did any of the other times we've had it.

like we're on the 4th day of having symptoms and we pretty much feel like when we're getting over a cold and just feel kinda rough from it so I'm hoping we'll feel alright in a few days? maybe?

we got the cough and sore throat on Thursday, and the cough was worst on Friday, then on Friday night we got the fever and joint and skin pain which ended up being worst yesterday, and then today we don't really have the skin and joint pain, the fever's calmed down a lot, and we do have a cough but it's nowhere near as bad, and this is a wild progression of symptoms for us given that having a cold usually completely wipes us out for over a week

[quaranmine]

okay, chapter eight progress update:

-chapter is basically fully complete. maybe 99% because i still want to potentially tweak one paragraph, but that's nbd

-little over 5k words (somehow that's still one of the shortest chapters in the whole fic)

-i've had the art sketched and lined for months but then i wasn't happy with it, so i lightboxed it to tweak part of it (since i'd already lined the original.) but now i'm like. still unhappy with that, unsure of where to insert it without ruining flow? i might save the idea for this artwork as a piece unconnected to the fic

-i need to take a look at the chapter, determine if any artwork should even be made for it, and where.

[izzy-b-hands]

My doctor messaging me at 12:30 in the morning to tell me she wants to do a telehealth visit abt the side effects I'm having with my new Lamotrigine dose (including worse insomnia than my usual insomnia, as u may have guessed lmao) is. something.

[sysig]

Your Weekly TV Guide

On Monday you can expect:

2:30 PM: The Stanley Parable/Portal

And Tuesday:

2:30 PM: The Stanley Parable

Wednesday:

2:30 PM: Portal

Thursday:

2:30 PM: Adventure Time

Friday:

2:30 PM: AT

Saturday:

2:30 PM: Fellplates

Sunday:

2:30 PM: Fellplates

Thanks for tuning in! (Patreon)