#it hasn’t been 24 hours since i beat it

[goldensunset]

i’m still not over how [INSERT ADJECTIVE HERE] that scarlet/violet ending was i am going to be thinking about this for weeks i will NEVER forget that experience. one of the Most video game experiences i’ve ever had

[leonw4nter]

maybe like a lil drabble (or whatever you’d like to do) where instead of hunnigan working with leon, it’s the reader. and they be all flirty and cute and kinda like 👉👈

tbh it can work for anything post-re2r, even if its still before re4r. you can do how he acts around you in different eras (if you want to at all, or just choose an era)

sooo whatever you have most inspo with! thank youu

RE4R!Leon x FOSAgent!F!Reader drabble

After Ashley and Luis had gone to sleep in the small ramshackle shed Leon had managed to locate for the night, he sat by the entrance of their temporary shelter and turned on his comms, waiting for his radio to pick up a stable wavelength to relay information back to HQ. The dingy little thing still wouldn’t pick up a frequency, which the blond didn’t wonder about since he’s been thrown around one too many times, the walkie-talkie probably also got a small beating along with the impact his body took. After giving a small pat to the black box in his hands, he finally managed to hear the static of his handler’s voice.

“Condor One to Roost, baby Eagle is currently taking shelter in this… dilapidated hut,” he sternly reports. “Along with Sera. Luis Sera.”

A moment of silence fills the air, accompanying the gentle pitter patter of the rain on the thickening mud before you respond to his reports.

“Hmm… aerial imaging tells me you’re near a lake, am I right? Can hear the rain from here,” you say.

“Yeah. We’re not too far from a lake,” he responds. “Guess we got eyes in the sky too, huh.”

He hears a faint little breath coming from you, probably a soft scoff. He smiles to himself, the first time in a long time before he brings his wrist near to his face.

“What time is it back home?” he asks.

“1300.”

“You should probably get some rest, baby. Don’t worry about me, I’m making sure we all get out of here in one piece.”

“I want to but I can’t bring myself to,” he hears you softly respond. “I can’t risk losing you, you know. I gotta keep guard on comms 24/7 even though I know you’re great at your job.”

Leon’s heart squeezes a little bit; he knows how important rest is to someone, which is ironic considering how he hasn’t had proper rest in over 96 hours and is desperately craving a good, lengthy sleep though he doesn’t mind if it means keeping Ashley and the flirty Spaniard safe and sound. He won’t mind, most of all, if it meant keeping in touch with you.

“And besides, I have reports to send to Graham– location updates, aerial view images, all that jazz. I have many things to work on,” you say before he hears you yawn quietly. “It’s not like I can just stop doing these because I’m tired; at the end of the day, the president is a father who wants to know how his daughter is doing all the way on the other side of the world. He’s worried sick.”

“And at the end of the day, I’m just your boyfriend who wants to make sure my girlfriend is still taking care of herself despite all her workload,” Leon responds. “I know baby, I know but still take some time to rest– even for a little bit.”

A soft sigh can be heard from your end.

“Fine. But aren’t you supposed to be resting too? Don’t see any threats within a 3-mile radius, you’re good.”

“Nah. Gotta keep watch, can’t be too vigilant. You’ll be the one resting for both of us tonight,” he says.

“Leon.”

“I’ll get rest later, honey. I promise,” Leon pleads.

Another sigh. Gosh, Leon hates how you’ve been sighing a lot more lately, which meant that a lot was weighing on your mind.

“Promise me that. Or I’ll personally fly there to beat your ass.”

“I’d rather you beat something else of mine instead,” Leon jokes.

“I’ll remind you, agent Kennedy, that we’re still on government-operated frequencies so I highly recommend communicating in a professional manner.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am agent Kestrel, the absolute love of my life.”

“I’m going to go on the break you’ve been forcing me to have instead.”

Leon chuckles to himself, a small puff of air leaving his cracked and pale lips.

“Okay, okay. Good night, baby. I’ll talk to you 4 hours from now.”

“Good night, hon. I… I miss you and… please stay safe,” you sincerely whisper to him, unable to switch off the frequency connecting you to him.

“Me too. I miss you. I love you,” he says before turning the radio off and placing it back in one of the many fancy pockets he had.

He props one leg up while he sits, resting his forearm on his knee as he looks out into the dark and foggy scenery. The rain would be nice if he was back home with his girlfriend, cuddling and joking in the bed of their shared apartment instead of this miserable hellhole infested with mutants and murder-crazed cult fanatics. As much as he wanted to bring along a locket or a small picture of you he couldn’t, out of making sure that there would be no traces of foreigners that the crazy locals could use to somehow involve all of America into this. A faint creak of the rickety wooden floorboards has the hairs on the back of his head standing, his hands flying to the sleek silver pistol on his holster to point it at the source of the noise, only for the source of the noise to be the nosy Spaniard who was unfortunately very much wide awake and conscious throughout the conversation he had.

“Didn’t know you had a ladylove, sancho.” was all the man said after raising his arms up as the agent pointed his gun at him.

Leon put his gun back down, the usual smoulder and frown taking its place back into his haggard features as he sat back down and stared out into nothingness again.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to call a lady ‘baby’ or ‘honey’,” he teases. He walks up to Leon, taking a spot beside him and placing a cigarette to his lips before lighting the end of it with his lighter.

“‘You should probably get some rest, baby’,” Luis repeats with a sly smirk as he shoots Leon a curious look.

Leon simply gives him a death glare, squinting his eyes before turning his attention back to somewhere that isn’t irritating or getting on his last nerve.

“That’s not what it was.” It was what it was.

“Mhm, Sancho.”

“You be thankful she hasn’t ratted your ass out to the president yet,” he hisses.

“Good point there,” Luis sneers. “No… no anything then?”, to which Leon responds with silence.

“Then… perhaps she’d like to go out for a jive, a little dance of bachata with me,” the Spaniard presses with a shit-eating grin. “Since you two don’t seem to be anything.”

“Back off from my girlfriend,” Leon blurted as he froze the man in front of him with his steel blue gaze.

Luis puts out his cigarette, chucking it somewhere and gets up as he walks back to where he ‘slept’ moments ago.

“Okay, sancho. I can clearly see that you’re hers,” he comments. “I guess only you have the pass to call her ‘the absolute love of your life’. Buenas noches, amigo.”

With a wink, he lays back down on the floor and turns to his side to fall asleep.

NOTES - It feels great to finally get back to posting again!!! It's been quite some time and since I'm finally finished with the third quarter and my tests, I'll be more active with posting fics :)) Requests have been marinating in my inbox and I know ppl have been waiting for quite some time so here's the request, more otw!!!! I'm also eepy rn so I'm going to go to bed after I post this <3 Neways, thanks for reading my works and I <3333 UUUU!!!!!! HAVE A GREAT DAY WHEREVER YOU ARE <3

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SIXTEEN

in which you and eddie take some time to figure each other out in the afterglow of honesty.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 2.7k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

16:00 ──────────ㅇ───── 24:00

HOUR SIXTEEN - 7:00 AM

Eddie’s favorite color is red. He likes his coffee with an obscene amount of sugar and creamer, which always leads to a regrettable stomach ache. He learned to play guitar on an acoustic six string handed down to him by his uncle, and he’s completely self taught beyond what his uncle taught him about basic notes. And his uncle’s name is Wayne. He refers to the man that raised him as Uncle Wayne. 

Honesty turns out to be quite the beautiful thing in the morning light, and for the first time, you feel as though you’re truly getting to know Eddie. 

It’s a give and take, an even exchange of bits and pieces of each other that are handed over without much thought. You finally have a clearer picture of the man you’ve spent the last fifteen hours straight with. A full photograph in time of who he is, who he really is, in a way that you wouldn’t have been able to fathom a week before. And it’s ironic, looking back on your relationship’s progression with him, the way you two keep skipping over steps before retracing to what was missed. How ironic you’ve let him see you at your most primal and vulnerable, but you’ve just learned his favorite color. 

Eddie Munson isn’t a dick. He’s kind, he’s a huge goddamn nerd, he can be funny sometimes, his favorite color is red, but he isn’t a dick as you’ve been led to believe he was this last year. 

Well, maybe led isn’t the right word. Everyone told you he wasn’t a dick. You just never listened. 

Eddie’s just revealed his favorite movie genre as horror when you’re leaning forward, elbows pressing into your thighs as you ask him with a grin, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

“Very funny reference,” he deadpans, barely keeping his face straight as he jokingly narrows his eyes, “Especially considering it’s the Scream franchise.”

 You still haven’t brought up that question of why exactly he fought for your honor after that fight. His grand reveal left you with more confusion than you ever could have anticipated, and more than this fragile friendship could handle this early in the morning. So you’d buried it down, somewhere deep inside, for the sake of the friendship.

“You can’t just say an entire franchise. Pick a favorite one, idiot.” 

Friendship. Was that what this was? When was the last time one of your friends had seen you naked, or ate you out atop a kitchen counter? 

“The first one. You can’t beat the classic.” 

You fight your smile in a similar fashion that he is. Mirroring joy, mirroring surprise, “You’re definitely only saying that for the whole homoerotic friendship between Stu and Billy.” 

“Oh, I definitely am,” he doesn’t even try to deny it as he cracks and laughs softly, “What about you?”

Even after nearly an hour of doing this, going back and forth and learning about each other, the novelty of Eddie genuinely asking you things about yourself hasn’t worn off. The curiosity that lights in his eyes, the way he leans into you to hear each word clearly – it makes you question if this was the same man who had once been so cruel. 

“My favorite scary movie? I… don’t have one,” you lean back into your chair, a small huff of air escaping you from impact. 

There’s two mugs of coffee on the small garden table between your chairs, having gone cold long since Eddie retrieved them for the two of you. That had been when he’d earnestly told you about his coffee preference – he’d been sweetly shy about the ordeal, bashful as he looked down at the mugs and informed you he’d tried to only put a normal amount of cream in yours, only a little bit of sugar. It had been so endearing, the way that when you asked what he meant by normal and he’d only murmured his confession of how he took his morning caffeine over the mug’s lip, you nearly caved into yourself. 

“That’s impossible. No way. Absolutely not,” Eddie is animated as he waves his hands around wildly in front of him, shaking his head furiously at your answer, “I refuse to believe you don’t have a favorite scary movie, especially considering you quoted an iconic franchise. If you can quote Scream, you can tell me what your favorite is-”

You interrupt him with laughter, scrunching up your face, “Okay, first of all- Eddie, hey,” he’s still rambling, still being terribly dramatic in the flailing of his arms, so you reach over to grip the forearm closest to you. All his movements immediately cease as his eyes widen, staring directly at you in an oddity of shock, “First of all, it’s just common knowledge of pop culture. I’ve never even seen those movies,” you’re not sure if Eddie is breathing as your hand remains still tightly clasped against his forearm, and you’re not sure why he wouldn’t be, “Second of all, I’m a wimp. Scary movies might be my least favorite kind of movie, right behind apocalyptic action movies.” 

When he takes a sudden deep breath, you realize he had been holding his breath, “Apocalyptic action movies?” 

You begin to explain, to list examples, and you never once take your hand off his arms. You rattle off a list – 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, San Andrea’s Fault, etc. – all the while feeling his pulse race beneath his warm skin. All the while selfishly enjoying the contact, wondering how long it might take staying like this before your fingertips would mold to him. Maybe they’d eventually melt into his arm, skin molten together so that where he ends and where you begin is impossible to distinguish. A closeness with him that you had never craved so ardently before tonight, before today. 

“So, doomsday movies,” he hums after you give your examples. If you were smart, you’d let go of him. It’s been too long for the contact to be brushed off as normal, “Does that mean you also hate zombie movies?” 

“Nope. Those are an entirely different thing.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re entirely different.” 

“They are. They’re completely unrealistic! San Andrea’s Fault… sort of… well, it could happen.” 

“They’re not completely unrealistic. Some of them almost have, like, legit science behind them.” 

You hadn’t even noticed that he scooted his chair closer. Or the slip of his arm in your loosening grasp, leading your hand until it rests against his wrist, so close to holding onto his own hand that rests palm up against his thigh in wait. 

An offering. 

“There is no logical way that one day, our world is going to turn into a real-life Walking Dead situation,” you say, trying to steady your breathing. 

You won’t make the first move. 

He’s leading this moment. If he wants to hold your hand, then he can take that final leap of faith. 

“Have you actually seen The Walking Dead, or are you just blindly making pop culture references again?” 

You can feel the thrill of his heartbeat pick up in the center of his wrist before he does it. With subtle movements, his wrist slips between your fingertips. 

Only for them to be recaptured by his own knuckles. The dust settles. The warmth spreads. Your palm is pressed to his palm, your fingers interlocked between his fingers. 

“I have seen that one,” you tell him quietly, looking down at your conjoined hands. His eyes are also downcast to them. The tendon in his wrist flexes as he tightens his grip on your hand, the small squeeze becoming more sure. It’s not an accident; this was never an accident. 

It’s in the hair you notice on his forearm, wispy and blonde and almost comical in contrast to the dark curls that grow from his scalp. A layer of fuzz that covers alabaster skin dotted in rare and faded freckles, nearly invisible unless you look closely enough. You can see the tan line across his wrist from where he would normally wear a watch. If you follow the details further up his arm, away from the wrist now awkwardly pressed against yours in a twist, you can see the faded blue-black ink of his tattoos. That flock of bats, the most faded of his numerous additions to his skin, taunts you. You’ve already known him up close and personal in the last few hours, felt him flush against you and memorized the way his body was capable of pressing into yours, but it’s in these details that the ache arises. The sadness that you’ve never known him quite this personally before this moment, and the fear that you never will again. 

An ache all because he’s let you close enough to learn the details of his skin – what a marvelous thing. 

“That’s a miracle,” he mutters, fully entranced as he rubs the pad of his thumb across the top of your fingers. You’re quick to return the motion; his knuckles are far more rough than yours, and you try to count the groves in them, from long weeks no doubt, all in that brief swipe, “Or else I would have had to have insisted upon ending this lovely honesty hour, and subjecting you to a marathon.” 

“We can still have a marathon.” 

You’d do just about anything to remain in this position, to stay this impossibly close to him. You’re selfish and you’re clingy, squeezing his hand a little bit tighter as he had done to you, as if the grip on it reflects your grip on the moment. You can’t let it go – you can’t let him go. 

No matter how you have had him, no matter how long he sits in this golden hour with his hand in yours, it will never be enough. This sudden and abruptly-arriving ache is incurable. 

You want him, you need him, you bloom for him. 

There’s something in his smirk as he awkwardly uses his freehand to bring his mug of too-sweet coffee to his lips that almost whispers that there’s a chance: he also wants you, he also needs you, he also blooms for you.

 And so you tell him about yourself in turn. You don’t just stop at your distaste for horror or your fear of doomsday movies. You tell him how you don’t have a favorite color, how you switch it up too often and all he can do is chuckle at your indecisiveness. Once, an insecurity – now something silly to find amusement in at his side. You reveal to him your coffee preference; you take it with a normal amount of cream and just a little bit of sugar. You don’t reveal to him that before today, you’d always turned your nose up to hot coffee, an iced coffee connoisseur. Something in the sparkle of his eyes warns that he might already know. You don’t play any instruments, but you have a list of songs for him to learn, insisting that someday he’d have to play them for you on that guitar his Uncle Wayne gave him. (You can’t think too much on the way you’re once more speaking in some days with him. Your heart might burst if you do.)

You try to bare your soul, to stare down the barrel of honesty, just as he had. It’s scarier than you could have imagined. Finally, after fifteen hours, you get it. 

You get it, and it only makes you squeeze his hand tighter. 

At some point, he notices the way the sun is warming both of you with each passing minute, palms now sweaty against each other as he asks, “Do you want to go back inside?” 

No. I want to live in this moment for the rest of my days. “We can if you want to.” 

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” 

“Tell me what you want. You constantly do that with everyone else, you know. Let them make the decisions,” he’s smiling softly, eyes squinted against the sun now rising high in the sky, “I can’t even count the amount of times you’ve said that to Nancy on both hands. Which, I mean, awesome – Nance fuckin’ loves being the decision-maker. But we’re talking about me. You’ve never been shy about butting heads with me.”

You raise your eyebrows, “Quite the sudden high horse, Mr. Honesty.” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Well, it’s honesty hour. So, here’s more honesty – I love when you give me a run for my money. Who else is going to tell me to shut the fuck up when I’m on track to ramble for hours about Lord of the Rings?” 

“You want to talk honesty? I would only tell you to shut up because I might have blown my cover and you’d realize I actually enjoyed your company.” 

The soft smile widens, more shameless and more radiant, “Coulda fooled me.” 

“I did fool you,” you tease, and your hand slips from his, but the warmth left behind doesn’t. It’s buried deep in your bones now. 

Things will never return to normal, not for you. It isn’t a bad thing – it’s only a sure thing. 

“For what it’s worth…” he pauses, that smile faltering. “I enjoyed your company far more than I ever let on, too.” 

Is that why you fought for me, after fighting against me? 

He doesn’t let you reply, instead smacking both of his now free palms against his thighs as he moves to stand, “Anyways, I actually do happen to want to go inside,” he gestures to those faded swirls of tattoos across his biceps and forearms, “I don’t expose myself to too much sun for obvious reasons.” 

“Reasons being you’re a vampire?” you tease.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, “Yes, it’s definitely because I’m a vampire and not because of these sick tatties.” 

“Calling those abominations sick is pushing it,” you playfully counter as you scoot to the edge of the seat of the chair, unsticking your thighs from plastic, “And I knew it. Your skin is practically glittering like diamonds, Edward.”

He scowls. “So Twilight is off the marathon line up.” 

He sticks out a hand, the same one you had clung to for most of your conversation with each other. You don’t take it immediately.

“There’s going to be a marathon?” 

“You’ve got something better to do?” 

The thought of cuddling up with him on the couch has your heart pounding. Honestly, the couch would now remain tainted for the rest of your days. You might even continue to avoid showing up to his apartment just to avoid flushing red any time you see one of your friends take a seat on the spot he once took you on, had pressed into you as your knees had dug into those cushions, as you had moaned his na-

You had to stop thinking about it before he noticed your thighs pressing together tightly. 

“For the record,” he says, hand still extended, unwavering as the sun forms an aura of gold around his outline, “Honesty hour doesn’t have to end when we go inside. From here on out, I actually insist that it be on the table. One of the perks of being my friend, I suppose.” 

Those are the magic words. You don’t need to immediately know why he fought for you, or why he really led you to believe he hated you for so long. You don’t need to know why he kissed you and you don’t need to know why he’d changed his tune so suddenly the first night you two met. All you needed to know was that if you wanted to know, if you ever find the guts to ask him about these things, he would tell you. 

You reach out and take his hand.

Immediately, he pulls you comically hard out of your chair. When you fumble directly into his chest, he’s already chuckling and wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble, pulling back and glaring up at him without any true venom, “Eager much?”

“Very,” he boyishly grins down at you and your heart skips a beat. 

Eagerly, wildly, suddenly, comfortingly – he now occupies a space in your brain you weren’t aware existed. It almost whispers I was always here, always waiting for him. 

The two of you don’t waste any time as he tugs you inside, the promise of a movie marathon awaiting the two of you. 

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[percivaljacksons]

preview

hi ive decided to stop taking myself so seriously -- when i finish this it'll go on ao3 as a oneshot, but this is what ive got so far of angsty divers au (no it still does not have a title). rated somewhere between t and m. can i get a hell yeah in the chat? um have fun lol.

..

NYT: A lot of headlines have already declared this as the discovery of the century—one even as the discovery of the millenia. Did you envision such a momentous breakthrough in your career?

PJ: Uh, no. I didn’t think I was gonna graduate high school. You can laugh, dude, but I’m not joking. This has all been one crazy ride. My life changed forever the moment I met Annabeth Chase. 

//

What Annabeth remembers, during the nights she tries not to:

The cold. The blackness so thick they might as well have been diving in ink. Percy’s mouthpiece, warm when he pressed it to her lips every twelve seconds. She’d breathe in, then tap his wrist twice, and it would disappear once more.

They’ve always been good at nonverbal communication. A twitch of an eyebrow here, a sideways glance there. She knows when he’s rolling his eyes without having to look. He always manages to pass her a tissue right before she sneezes.

Annabeth wonders if they’ll ever get out from beneath what they said to each other, down in the Pit, where neither of them could utter a single word.

//

The phone rings five times, tinny and faint in Annabeth’s ear as she waits. She’s breathing hard, her hair still dripping and her suit peeled down to her waist, a pair of sunglasses her only real protection against the late afternoon Mediterranean sun. 

The ringing cuts off, and a groggy voice says, “yeah?”

Annabeth glances down at her watch. “Percy?” She asks. 

There’s a beat. When the voice speaks again, it’s perfectly awake. “Annabeth?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I…I thought you’d be awake by now.”

“I’m in San Diego.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine. Good, I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, almost wistful. “Why the new phone number?”

“It’s temporary. I’m in Greece.” She listens to him breathe, feels her own heart settle. 

“Greece,” he repeats.

Her thumb smooths over the shard of pottery in her hand. “Yeah. How soon can you get here?”

“To Greece? Shit, Annabeth, I don’t—”

“I found it,” she says. A glance over her shoulder tells her that her two grad students are laughing as they organize her gear and not paying attention to her at all, but she lowers her voice anyway. “I saw it, Percy. It’s real.” She breathes in, then out. The boat rocks under her. “I found it,” she repeats.

Static crackles in her ear. “I’ll be there in 24 hours,” Percy says.

//

They’d gone down together, which was stupid. So much of it was stupid with even a few hours of hindsight. No one coming down after them, thinking they knew the cave too well to get lost, believing that doing everything right meant that they were safe.

Stupid. 

The light clipped onto her suit only illuminated about a twelve inches past her flippers. She could see the walls on either side, the familiar steadily making way for the unfamiliar as they descended to the section only Percy had explored. 

Percy’s flipper tapped her head. He was reminding her to stop and equalize her ear pressure, so she did. He was more experienced diving in salt water. It saved her life, in the end—she had her nose pinched and her mouth firmly closed when she got slammed into the wall regulator yoke first. 

The straps on her chest jerked from the release of pressure, but it was the feeling of the bubbles rapidly flowing up her that let her know she was really, truly fucked.

//

It’s been six months since the Pit, and three since they last saw each other in person. Annabeth thought he was in New York, Percy probably thought she was—well, Annabeth doesn’t actually know. Probably not where she’s been. 

She’s been in Sicily and Ostia and around sixteen different Greek and Turkish islands. She hasn’t stayed in one place long enough for her mind to settle, has managed to outrun every shadow that clung to her pumping heels, only now her throat burns and her muscles ache and Percy meets her at the arrivals gate in Athens with a fresh tan and an unsure smile and Annabeth is all too aware that her months of avoidance have come to an end. 

Percy comes to a stop a foot or so away from her, tantalizingly close. Within arm’s reach. “Hey,” he says. 

His hair is long enough that he needs a band to keep his bangs out of his eyes. She recognizes it—it’s the same one she’d used to keep her own hair from falling in her face when it started to grow back after she’d chopped it five and a half months ago. The duffel bag thrown over his shoulder is also hers, and so is the necklace peeking out from beneath his collar. 

Annabeth hugs him because she wants to kiss him. “Hi,” she responds. 

The duffel bag hits the floor. His arms wrap around her, fierce and firm, and she buries her face in the warm skin of his neck. Stubble scratches against her cheek; Annabeth breathes easy for the first time in something like twelve weeks. 

“I thought you might send one of your grad students,” he says. His arms stay locked around her. 

“You got on the first flight you could,” Annabeth responds, her voice muffled. “Least I could do was meet you halfway.”

His fingertips press the tiniest bit harder into her spine. “Thanks,” he whispers into her hair. 

Annabeth’s own necklace digs into her jaw. I’ve missed you, she says with the nudge of her nose against his pulse. 

He rocks them back and forth, just barely. I’ve missed you, too, he responds with the graze of his palms over her back. 

Annabeth takes a breath, takes in the unchanged feeling coursing through her blood, and finally manages to take a step back. “You ready?” She asks. 

Percy’s smile is dazzling. “You bet your bippy I am.”

Annabeth leads him to her rental with loosely linked fingers, her steps so light she’s half convinced she could walk right over the Mediterranean itself. 

//

The last time they saw each other—the last time she saw him—it had been in the artificial brightness of their living room. Annabeth hadn’t slept in days, Percy hardly ever looked her in the eye, and neither of them could muster the strength to turn off even their tiniest, most ineffective lamp. 

No matter how many times Annabeth took deep breaths, she was still gasping for air. 

Percy would turn on the shower and stare at the water hitting the other side of the curtain, the bathroom door firmly shut, and then turn the faucet off again without ever stepping in. 

They curled up together every night, their bedroom lit up like a department store, her fingertips leaving bruises in his hips and shoulders, and if they were lucky sometimes one of them could fall asleep. 

Annabeth left New York. Percy didn’t follow her. 

//

One of her grad students picks them up from the dock. They were the only passengers on the boat from the mainland, so she’s the only person waiting, leaning against a rusty pickup truck filled with scuba equipment. She’s also lazily smoking a cigarette, her bright blue hair lit up a striking cobalt by the sun. 

She drops the cigarette and twists her foot over it the moment she sees them approach. “Doctor,” she greets with a grin that’s a little too innocent. 

Annabeth glares at her. “Pick that up. We’re not here to litter.”

The grad student sticks a hand out to shake Percy’s. “Hey, I’m Lucy. You the pottery guy?”

“I leave for one day and your hair is blue,” Annabeth mutters, taking the duffel bag from Percy’s shoulder and tossing it into the back. “If you’ve been smoking in the truck…”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “No, Mom, I haven’t been smoking in the truck. My hair’s blue because Mitchell won our bet, don’t worry about it. I didn’t even stain the towels.”

“I like it,” Percy says. 

“See?” Lucy says. She bends down and picks up her cigarette butt when Annabeth keeps glaring. “The pottery guy gets it.”

“Um—” Percy tries to say. 

“This is Percy,” Annabeth explains. “He’s not a pottery guy.”

“When’s the pottery guy getting here, then?”

Annabeth goes around to the driver’s side and gets in the truck instead of answering. Lucy shrugs and moves the passenger seat up to slide into the rear bench, waving Percy away when he tries to get in. He sits in the front with a shrug once Lucy’s knees are out of the way, and the moment his seatbelt is buckled Annabeth tears out of the marina parking lot. 

“So.” Lucy’s fingers tap along the backs of their chairs. “If you’re not a pottery guy, who are you? ‘Cuz Annabeth found a piece of pottery on her dive two days ago and took off outta here like Icarus on his way to freedom.”

It’s a weird simile, but Annabeth doesn’t respond. When Percy turns to look at her, her eyes don’t even stray from the road. 

“You didn’t tell them?” He asks. 

Annabeth grunts. Percy keeps staring at her, wondering which question he should answer, and eventually says to Lucy, “Annabeth and I…” He sighs. “Well, we go way back. How long have you been her student?” 

“A few months,” Lucy says. 

Percy smiles and turns to look out the window. They’re along the coast now, and the ocean is blue like a jolly rancher. “She doesn’t need a pottery guy,” he says.

Lucy raises her eyebrows. She looks at Percy, then at Annabeth, then back to Percy again. “Totally explains everything,” she says, and the rest of the drive passes in silence. 

//

For weeks after the Pit, Annabeth was on the edge of a panic attack whenever she couldn’t feel Percy beside her. She knew why, logically. The therapist explained it, and everyone was so goddamn understanding. Grover, and Sally, and Piper, and Nico, and Clarisse.

Even her mother, under the thick layer of I-told-you-so that she didn’t bother to try and hide.

What can you say, when your head finally has broken free of the water? When all light is blinding, when you can’t get rid of the taste of salt on your lips?

What can you say to the person who pulled you back to life, when you’re the only reason his soul grazed the razor edge of death in the first place?

//

“Why are the vibes, like, literally rancid?” Mitchell mutters, loading the extra gear his advisor always insists on bringing onto the boat.

“Girl, if I knew,” Lucy responds, shaking her head. 

“You could help, you know.”

“I picked them up from the dock! No, don’t put the yoke by the O2—”

“You do it, then!”

“Fine.”

She joins him, loading in silence. After a minute:

“$5 they’ve boned.”

“You’re so on.”

//

They put their gear on together, her reaching out to zip him up without prompting and him holding her tank steady so she can slide her arms through the straps. They don’t have to look at each other to do it, so they don’t. 

Annabeth only glances over once they’re finished. His eyes are hidden behind his diving mask, and Annabeth’s heart migrates to her throat.

The last time she’d seen him like that had been—

“Ready?” She asks.

Percy nods. She goes in first, and he follows.

He’s still following, even now. But that’s Percy. 

From above the surface, it looks like a rock. A big rock, sure, but not dissimilar from the jutting stones that surround a lot of the Mediterranean, the jagged edges that contrast the white sand beaches. That’s been her main research tactic, recently—where do the tourists avoid? What stone has been left unturned, what looks so innocuous from above that no one would ever suspect it was an X, marking a very secret spot?

Under the surface, it’s a different story. Not an obvious story, but at this point Annabeth could navigate each curve and edge in her sleep. She does, on the nights she doesn’t dream of a blackness like tar. 

It’s a bright enough day that sunlight streaks through the water a good twenty feet down, exposing the imposing face of stone. There isn’t an entrance, really, but there’s nooks and crannies and crevices, and Annabeth is the particular kind of crazy to have wiggled her way through every single one she could. 

On instinct, she reaches down and clicks on one of her flashlights. With a confident flick of her feet, she propels herself towards the opening that started it all. 

There are three flashlights clipped to the straps around her shoulders. When she had zipped up Percy’s suit, she had noticed the four he had clipped to his.

She finds the optical illusion, the uneven meeting that looks like a solid wall. If you stare at it long enough, the ripples of light coming through the water reveal it for what it is. She presses forward, and just like six months ago Percy goes where she leads.

From there, it’s memory. Through the cave system, careful and slow, even as her heart pounds. Under the archway, chipped away from the rock, a little too even to be natural. She pauses under it and taps it with one hand. Percy nods in response. He sees it. He knows.

After the archway, it’s left until the opening below, leading down to darker and colder waters. Annabeth checks her backup flashlights, braces herself, and heads down. 

She doesn’t look to see if Percy follows. He either will or he won’t. 

The space gets smaller, then larger, jagged edges of rock cutting into the path. This wasn’t an entrance, as far as Annabeth can tell, but it’s the only way in she’s found so far. Everything else has been long since blocked off by time. Earthquakes, rockslides, storms, erosion, all of the above. It’s proper cave diving because of it, something that Percy has infinitely more experience in.

She reaches the air pocket and pops her head out. She takes a breath of stale, cave air and waits. A faint light grows steadily brighter.

Percy’s head pops above the water. He lets his rebreather drop from his mouth.

“Holy shit,” he says. “Annabeth, this is—”

Annabeth reaches through the water and grabs onto his rebreather with her left hand. Her right hand is busy clutching her own. They’re both attached to their diving tanks, obviously, but…

His hand covers her own. “I’ve got it,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

Annabeth yanks her hand back. “Right,” she says. “Did you see the arch? I’m thinking 4,500, maybe earlier.”

Water drips from the low ceiling above them onto Percy’s diving mask. He doesn’t even blink.

“Plato said 9,600,” he teases.

“I know what Plato said.” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “What did he know?”

“4,000,” Percy says, shaking his head, “is neolithic settlers in Thera, precursors to the Minoans. Annabeth, that’s…that’s—”

“—the Older Peron,” she finishes. “The timing makes perfect sense, but I think there was something else. I mean, look at where we are. There were the rising sea levels during Holocene Epoch, sure, but—”

“—it was never at sea level,” Percy realizes. He gestures around them, splashing her with water. “It was already below sea level. Which is why—”

“—the rise was so devastating,” Annabeth continues, building on his enthusiasm. “They had fortifications of natural rock but—”

“—they were effectively trapped when the levels rose unexpectedly!” His voice echoes off the walls around them. “We’ve been going deeper and deeper this whole dive.”

“Probably a storm,” Annabeth says. “It was gradual, and then a big storm caught them off guard. They…they probably starved, if they didn’t drown. Those who didn’t made their way to Crete and kicked off the Bronze Age.”

The slow drip of water is the only sound between them for a long moment. 

“Where’d you find the pottery?” Percy finally asks.

“Up ahead. Ten minutes, maybe.”

“Is it all submerged?”

“I don’t know,” Annabeth admits. “Maybe, maybe not. I called you as soon as I had anything concrete.”

He takes his mouthpiece out of the water and slots it between his lips. Annabeth does the same, then heads back under to show him the way. She’s so excited to show him that she can barely even feel how the water has gotten gradually colder during their dive. It had freaked her out, her first few times trying to navigate the crags of the cave. 

Caves are always cold. It’s why they have wetsuits. Annabeth only wishes it wouldn’t take so goddamn long for her to warm up again once she was above the surface.

//

NYT: Your preliminary article talks a lot about the Holocene epoch. What does that have to you with your discovery?

PJ: Right, yeah, so that’s—we’re in that right now. That’s our current geological epoch. It’s an interglacial period equivalent to MIS 1, and started around 11,700 years ago. Basically, ‘Holocene’ is two Ancient Greek words smushed together meaning an ‘entirely new’ age. In terms of, like, humanity, it’s when all of our written history and technological revolutions have happened. It’s all happened since the last ice age ended those 12,000 years ago. In terms of my research—which is our research, really—it’s thinking about the impact of the vast warming of the planet after the last ice age and what that might be able to tell us about pre-Minoan civilizations in the Mediterranean.

NYT: Are you talking about global warming? I think of that being a lot more recent than 12,000 years ago.

PJ: Eh. It’s kinda relative. Pretty much anything is global warming after an ice age, you know? We do split the Holocene into three main eras of slight cooling and warming, but our sweet spot is around 7,500 years ago, when the Mediterranean especially was having to deal with rapid sea level rise and colder waters. Can I be honest with you, dude?

NYT: Of course. 

PJ: Everyone thought we were f****** crazy.

//

Later, back on the boat, Mitchell throws together some PB&Js for them to devour. The two of them eat quickly, tired from the dive, and don’t speak. Mitchell always uses a little too much peanut butter, and it sticks to the roof of Annabeth’s mouth, but that isn’t why she stays quiet.

There’s a lot between them besides the silence.

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” she eventually says, staring at the unassuming point of rock above the water. Just a rock that was really the cave that held the answer she’d spent her life searching for. Will they call it Chase Cave? Probably not, at this point. She’s glad. Something about that smarts—her greatest achievement marked by her father’s name.

“Is it?” Percy asks. His hair is wet, mussed up from when he yanked off his hood. There’s still a faint red oval around his eyes and nose.

She turns to face him more fully. They’ve never worn jewelry when they went in the water, and earlier she’d caught the faint tan line around the fourth finger of his left hand. He still wears it, or wore it recently enough to still have its mark.

Annabeth looks back to the rock. It’s much easier to stare at. “Almost,” she says.

//

NYT: Where do you go from here? Back to Berkley? Columbia? Are you staying in Greece?

PJ: Honestly… [Laughs] anywhere that offers us a tenure track. We’re open to suggestions! Our RateMyProfessor scores are through the roof, man. At this point, I’d even say yes to NYU.

//

“Berkley’s funding you?” Percy asks.

Annabeth nods, swallowing the mouthful of wine she’d been letting sit in her mouth. It’s easy to get lost in it—early signs of the sunset, Percy backlit by it all, wearing a loose blue shirt with the collar open so she can see his collarbones, her necklace nestled right in the middle. Missing him has been as frequent as breathing. She doesn’t quite know how to handle having him right across the table from her.

“Damn.” His mouth twists in that charming, trying-not-to-smile way. “What a coup.”

Annabeth snorts. “Right? I don’t know that she’ll ever talk to me again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Percy grabs an olive from their shared plate and pops it in his mouth. “She’s going to milk your relationship for every grant she applies for until the day she retires. Or dies.”

“Fuck.” Annabeth takes a larger sip of wine and closes her eyes. “You’re right. Goddamn it.”

“Hey, it’s been known to happen.” She opens her eyes again just in time to see the smile slip properly onto his face. “Good thing she made sure that you didn’t share any kind of name.”

Annabeth raises her wine. Percy grabs his water and follows suit, his tan-lined finger wrapping around the glass. “To Dr. Sofia Athena,” Annabeth says. “A name that has had no lasting impact on the study of archeology and the world’s shittiest mother.”

“Hear hear!” 

They clink their glasses and drink. 

The sun sinks below the ocean, pink orange red streaked across the sky, and below the table Percy rests the length of his leg against her own. 

//

Percy kept waking up with bruises on his wrist, his forearm, along the edge of his ribs. She never remembered grabbing him that tightly, hadn’t roused from sleep for a moment, didn’t even know that she was capable of gripping him like that.

She kept thinking about his life before she came into it, kept thinking about his childhood and his aversion to alcohol, and kept spending her mornings throwing up bile.

He held her hair back. He kissed the space behind her ear. He took it all, right up until the day she left.

//

They leave the restaurant as dusk slips into evening. Everything drips blue, and they could go back to the ramshackle house Annabeth’s been renting for three weeks and go to sleep. They should, really. Tomorrow all of the difficult stuff starts, the phone calls and the grant applications and fierce defense of their life’s work. 

But Percy takes a deep, sucking breath in, and his hands in his pockets. He lets it out again, a satisfied sigh, and jerks his head towards the horizon invitingly, and Annabeth already knows she’s going to agree to whatever he’s going to ask. 

“What?” She asks. 

“Want to go for a walk?” He asks. “It’s a beautiful night.” 

He’s right. She wants to. Still, she hesitates. 

“On the beach?”

“Why not? There’s a sandy bit down there.”

Annabeth can think of at least seven reasons that they really should not. Up against Percy’s relaxed posture and open expression, none of them put up a fight. 

“Alright,” she agrees. 

He doesn’t offer his hand, so she doesn’t take it, but when they start to walk towards the shore, their elbows brush with every other step. 

//

“Don’t be ridiculous, Annabeth.”

Annabeth’s head snaps back. “I’m not being ridiculous,” she says.

Her mother shoots her a look, her face half obscured by her office’s desktop monitor. “You’re turning one of Plato’s metaphors into a pipe dream of a discovery. It’s not like you.”

Annabeth takes a deep, controlled breath in. “I’m not basing the entirety of my research on Plato.”

“You’ve found another source that references Atlantis?”

“Not exactly,” Annabeth admits begrudgingly. “But—”

“Annabeth.”

“Just because they don’t call it the same thing that Plato did—”

“Lower your voice, please,” her mother says, turning her focus back to her computer. She starts to type, her face impassive.

Annabeth seethes. Quietly. “The study of Stone Age civilizations always requires careful historiographical reading into the Bronze and Iron ages. Their interpretation of history is a valid course of investigation for today’s scholarship.”

Her mother sighs and closes her eyes for a brief, devastating moment. “You’re a promising archeologist, Annabeth, but…”

Always a but. 

“...these caves, and the diving, well…” Her mother finally gives her undivided attention. “It’s not difficult to see where you got the idea.”

Annabeth digs the fingernails of her left hand into her palm and tries her best to keep the tears at bay. “I’m not plagiarizing research ideas.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“This research project just happened to pop up right as you started seeing a scuba diver? That’s a sheer coincidence?”

“He’s not a—”

“Oh, he wears an anklet.”

“He’s a marine archeologist! That’s literally part of your department.”

“They’ve tacked on an adjective before the word ‘archeologist.’ Is that supposed to—”

Annabeth slams her binder down on her mother’s desk, a savage satisfaction building in her chest at finally being the one who gets to interrupt. “I’m not debating this with you,” she says, her voice filled with finality. “My research has to do with Pre-Minoan Thera and early Bronze Age art and documentation. Read it or don’t. If you don’t fund me, someone else will.”

Her mother rises from her seat in one graceful movement, her eyes dark and swirling storm clouds. Annabeth realizes that they’re the same height; she’d never noticed that before.

“Who approached you?” Her mother asks. “USC? BU?”

Annabeth lets the smile that stretches across her face be as bitter as it wants to be. “I’m a Chase,” she says. She knows it’s a twist of the knife. “Who wouldn’t fund me?”

//

The sand is cold between her toes. The wind off the water is warm and makes Percy’s shirt flap around and hug the contours of his torso for brief, devastating moments. Annabeth focuses on putting one foot in front of the other and not on the way this whole night has felt like a date.

“I kind of want to get in,” Percy says. 

“What?”

“The water,” he clarifies. “I want to get in. Don’t you?” 

Annabeth gapes at him. It’s only been three months. He went in with her earlier, even followed her into a cave, but this is different. This is a walk along the beach with their shoes in their hands and stupid small talk that hasn’t been getting at any of the things they should probably be working through.

Percy drops his flip-flops. He only has to undo one more button to be able to pull his shirt off over his head. Annabeth keeps looking—obviously—as he shucks off his pants and adds them to the pile, too. 

There are little slices of pizza decorating his boxers. 

There’s a tiny, innocuous breath of hesitation. Is he thinking about stripping all the way down? Is he balking now that he’s facing the might of the ocean? 

In the end, he goes towards the water confidently, his boxers still on, and calls back once his ankles are submerged. “You coming?”

Annabeth slips the straps of her dress over her shoulders and lets it fall to the sand, kicking it over to join Percy’s pile of clothes. After her own moment of hesitation, she slips the chain around her neck off and wraps it around her hand, clutching the bulk of it tight in her palm. She won’t leave it on the beach, but she won’t lose it to the ocean, either. 

By the time she’s up to her calves, Percy’s already dunked himself under and come back up again, hair slicked back and water dripping down his chest. He’s got a slight t-shirt tan she hadn’t noticed before.

“How far do you want to go out?” She asks him.

“We’ll freeze if we stay like this,” he says, goosebumps all along his arms with his wet torso exposed to the breeze. A tiny wave crashes right behind him and sends him staggering a foot or so. “Past the break?”

The wave hits her next, soaking through her bra and splashing salt up onto her cheeks. “Sure.”

They wade out together and dive through the next wave in perfect unison. When she comes back up, brushing the water out of her eyes, all that’s left of it are bubbles bursting against her skin. The water settles around her shoulders; when she looks over, Percy’s eyes are lined up perfectly with hers. Bending his knees, probably. Staying under the water to stay warm, or stay on her level, or some mixture of the two. 

“Warmer than I thought,” Annabeth admits.

Percy smiles. She wishes the moon would rise, so she could see the emerald cut of his eyes better. “That’s almost like saying I was right.”

“Almost,” she agrees, smiling right back. 

“We probably could’ve stripped all the way down. When in Rome, and all that.”

“We’re not on Naxos.” She shudders. “Never again.”

That makes him laugh, finally. “Come on, it was a cultural exchange!”

“A-bah-bah,” Annabeth tuts, raising a finger. “It’s one of the sacred three.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Ice water, air conditioning, and we don’t have to look at wrinkly old dudes naked. U-S-A, U-S-A.”

“And don’t forget it.”

“How could I?” He replies softly. 

Annabeth resists the urge to curse. There goes their lighthearted small talk. 

She dreams of Naxos. Not of the famous nude beaches or Percy laughing at her horrified expressions, but of the crisp white sheets of their hotel room and the faint red imprints of her teeth against the perfect bronze of his tan. She dreams of the purest conversations they’ve ever had, the ones they had crammed together on their Juliet balcony and the ones that passed with skin pressed close and no words spoken at all. 

The dreams are always exact mirrors of memory, flawless from start to finish, loving and being loved. She never wakes up before an orgasm or before the sun had finally risen that first morning and lit up the muscles of Percy’s back like a goddamn Yuriy Petrenko painting. It’s complete contentment, morning breath and a sort of pulled hamstring halfway through, no detail lost.

But she always wakes up, and Percy’s not there, and reality feels like a nightmare.

“You’re not wearing your ring,” Percy breathes out.

“Neither are you.”

“I took it off to dive.” His head tilts, just slightly, and Annabeth’s eyes slide down his neck to her necklace. She catches the smallest glint of metal through the water and clenches her fist around her own ring, so tightly that the chain digs into the meat of her hand. 

“So did I,” she says.

His mouth quirks up. “Okay.”. 

“San Diego,” she starts, weirdly confident from the wine or the quiet or Percy being right in front of her again. “Did you get an—”

“I’m still on sabbatical. Staying with Tyson.” A wave laps up and covers his chin for a second. “He says hi, by the way.”

“He’s good?”

“Mhm. Trying to teach me pottery.”

Annabeth grins. “Are you any good?”

“Obviously not. It’s better than, like, baby goat yoga with Grover.”

“So that’s why you’re not in Portland.”

“Uh, that and the human baby they’re very enthusiastically trying to create. Barf.”

She splashes him in the face. “Shut up. What? Since when?”

He spits the water that got into his mouth out in a beautiful arch. “I can’t believe he told me before you! Like, a few months now. I think they maybe kept it hush-hush because…”

The waves crash against the sand. Annabeth knows what he was going to say. She can hear it in the squint of his eyelids, the exact angle tilt of his eyebrows. It’s kind of comforting—she still knows how. 

“That’s amazing,” she says, her voice quiet. “He’s going to be such a good dad.”

A swell of water builds towards them, and their toes leave the sand in the same moment, the tiniest push to keep their chins above the surface. 

“He accidentally synced our Google calendars,” Percy admits after a second. There’s a dangerous kind of glint in his eye, the one that Annabeth has always been a little bit in love with. “They, like, scheduled it.”

Annabeth gasps. “No.”

He nods, dunking half of his face in the process. “I know so much about Juni’s ovulation cycle that I can’t unlearn—”

“Percy!” Annabeth objects, as though she’s not laughing through it. “That’s such a violation of their privacy—”

“It’s not like I wanted to know it!” He laughs right back. “Grover apologized, like, six times. Juni called to ask if we ever did any fertility rituals. I did not need that boundary broken.”

Annabeth covers her face with one hand and ducks herself under the water. The muted sounds, the sting of the salt, the knowledge that she could reach out and touch him—she breaks the surface again. “Why would we have done a fertility ritual? We don’t have kids!”

“I think maybe she thought we’d done one to prevent it. Anti-fa, right?”

“I know you know that’s not what that is.”

His straight face breaks. “You thought it was funny, though.”

“No comment.” 

“Hey, don’t be mad. I told her our sexytime is exclusively based on passion. No scheduling involved.”

Annabeth wrinkles her nose. “A good excel spreadsheet is kind of hot, though.”

“Oh my god.”

“Like, a color-coded one.” She rolls back her eyes and moans. “With tabs.” 

It’s so easy to tease him, so natural to fall back into their rhythm, to turn off the filter in her brain and let the conversation go wherever it’s going to. It’s so easy to forget why they were half a world away from each other. 

He splashes her this time, only she’s already laughing, eyes closed and ready for it. She hears his laughter join hers before she sees it, low and infectious. 

Annabeth could stay here forever, high on her life’s mission accomplished and Percy right in front of her, both of their heads above the water, both of them laughing. She would make this second of air stretch on forever, only then she wouldn’t get what comes next.

She opens her eyes against the sting of the salt and sees him, the jut of his collarbone above the foam, his hair curling a little bit around his ears where it’s beginning to dry. She could look at him forever, watch as the crinkles around his eyes go soft and fade, as his mouth settles from a grin into something smoother, more familiar.

“Wanna kiss you,” he mumbles. The waves push him closer, or he moves closer, or Annabeth does.

“I thought we based our sexytime exclusively on passion,” Annabeth responds.

The heat of Percy’s torso presses up against hers. “Don’t be a dick,” he whispers.

Percy’s mouth slides hot against hers, rough-soft in the very particular way he always is, and waves lap at their shoulders and Annabeth thinks something about baptism and then thinks about nothing at all for as long as she’s able.

//

“Sometimes I think we never got out,” she whispers to him one night. 

They’re wrapped around each other in the blaring light from both of their nightstands. It’s some time past three in the morning.

“Like, this is all a dream?” He asks.

“No.” She presses her nose against his chest, breathes him in. “I just still feel it. I started down there and it never stopped.”

She feels the breath shudder out of him. “Yeah,” he agrees.

..

[superm4ks]

I need Max to serve some cunt bc it's been wayyy too long. The last time he really served cunt was when he called George a dickhead but I need moree

😑😑😑😑 👍🏽 ok respectfully we love a good Baku cat fight but like

- excuse me

- literally the next race

- Checo was telling media both Max’s titles happened because of him somebody out there was floating Prost senna conversations people lost their whole minds like 😭😭

-first of all quali didn't even start great like he hadn't set a lap when it got red flagged kind of Amateur hour at rbr. last time u will c number 1 car go out late btw he’s fully traumatized these days he’s breaking front wings hauling ass out of that garage god bless him. Anyway p9 wid his hyped up teammate starting on pole the casuals were celebrating even tho max was doing like. borderline unthinkable laps in fp2 so u could smell a generational moment from the get go

-dude overtook like literally everybody on hards by like lap 15 i think and still had all four wheels somehow spinning faster than checos fresh mediums by lap 40

- Destroying ur teammates entire wdc campaign in a single race weekend on hard tires from p9 kinda cunty idk?. To me

- Ok fine then Monaco: Jeddah won the battle but he won the war. made up 2 tenths in one of the shortest sectors of the whole calendar in prolly one of the best and most competitive quali sessions in Monaco, ever. Senna type performance, just fully letting the talent take over rascasse and antony noghes. U cannot serve more cunt than that

- Non? Bon. Spain: black and white flag for track limits. His engineer tells him he’s stupid and Max is like 'whatvr what’s the fastest lap' and his engineer is like 'SORRY did u not hear what I just' and max steals fastest lap from Checo. Who btw had just set that on new softs for his flop lil point and Max leading by 24 seconds at risk of getting a pen wid gp warning him against it is like 😚😚😚😚😚bet . This isn’t cunt to u. Ok

- FINE. Canada: do I have to talk about senna again😐. Do I have to say he equaled sennas wins at 25 years old. But despite the Senna numbers it was also an eerily Schumacheresq quali session from Max. Taking pole by a second under the rain is something u c twice, maybe once in a lifetime, if ur lucky. We are lucky 🫵🏽

- Austria: u look at me rn and tell me Austria wasn’t the most 2021 max you’ve seen that mf since that actual season. U tell me he didn’t serve cunt nearly sending both Red Bulls to eat shit at the RED BULL ring because he was a lil annoyed checo dared to like. Squeeze him a lil bit. Nearly overtaken by an Haas i cannot stress this enough. Bro Lewis impeded him once by accident during practice and Max literally twerked in front of his car and got away wid it. And on top of that he gaslit rbr into letting him pit for softs and risk the whole race to take one single extra point like he wud rather fucking die than let anybody else have it. He’s beating merc in the THE FONSTRCUTORS CHAMPIONSHIP‼️‼️‼️‼️ HES 1 PERSON

- .

- Austria was such fucking prime Verstappen cunt delivry it was so dumb and all of it completely unnecessary and ur fucking telling me he hasn’t really ‘served’ because he doesn’t have some tall beans and toast bitch up in his face like

- Which obvi brings me to Silverstone: HE WON THE BRITISH GP HE literally won the British Grand Prix???? Half a million people praying on his downfall, mclaren having its own lil moment he doesn’t give a fuck 5 poles and 6 wins in a row on ur head fucking losers eat it. Eat ittt. 2023 has been nonstop cunt serving from this guy it’s literally one of thee greatest verstappen performances to date put some respect on it immediately . Thank u

[hsangel64]

bandmates pt. 5

pairings: bassist!ellie williams x lead singer!reader

summary: it’s been days since the show and you’ve been sulking inside of dina’s room. ellie finally confronts you

warnings: ellie is an ass, mostly angst, cussing, y/n is used

a/n: please if you want to be added to the tag list just comment !!

it’s been three days since the show and dina let you stay in her room for the time being since you didn’t want to sleep in your shared room with ellie. you’ve been sulking for these three days you haven’t even gone to class. ellie hasn’t come to ask for you so you surely believed she didn’t care about you. you were currently laying in bed watching videos on your phone.

“hey you doing alright?” dina walked into the room and sat next to you.

“yeah i was gonna try and shower today and be a big girl and stay back in my room.”

“awe but i like our sleepover every night.” you both giggled.

“yeah okay-“ you sat up and dina opened her arms and you smiled at her and hugged her.

“everything’s gonna be okay i promise, and if you need i’ll beat ellie up for you.” you thanked her for everything and go out of bed to make your way back into your own room. ellie wasn’t home right now so you felt a little bit better about everything. you grabbed some clothes to go shower and get ready for your class you had today. you had a graphic design class you had to take for credits and of course ellie was in it. you mentally started to prepare yourself now.

…

you had taken your shower and changed. you felt so much better and somewhat ready to face ellie. you grabbed your things and your bag, did last minute checks on if you had everything and made your way out the door.

you got to your class and made your way to your usual seat. you didn’t see ellie and internally thanked god. you grabbed your laptop and notebook out and the class started soon after.

it was halfway through class when someone bursted through the door. you shot your head up from your laptop and saw ellie. oh god. you ducked your head back down but saw she had already saw you. she apologized to the professor and ran to the open seat next to you.

“hey what’s been going on?” she whispered to you.

“nothing everything’s fine.”

“but everything’s not fine if you’re staying in dina’s room when yours is just across the living room?!” she whisper yelled at you and you rolled your eyes.

“nothings going on now shut it.”

“bee i miss you please what’s goi-.”

“is there something you would like to share with the class miss williams?” she turned away from you and sighed.

“no mr. anderson.”

“that’s what i thought…now!” the professor went back to talking and you two stopped.

…

the class ended and you packed as quick as you could to get out before ellie stopped you. you threw your bag on and grabbed your water bottle and shot out of the class trying to get lost in the crowd so she doesn’t find you. you thought you could face her right now but you can’t. you just needed like an hour….or 24 of them.

you were out of the building and thought you were in the clear. you felt someone pull you back and of course it was ellie.

“what the fuck.”

“ellie nothings wrong.”

“then why are you running away from me?”

“can we just talk about this later i have stuff to do.”

“you know damn well you don’t i know you don’t have anymore classes after this and you go straight back to the dorm.” you sighed, there was no way of you getting out of this.

“fine but can we at least talk about this in the dorm?” she agreed and you guys made your way back to your guys room in an awkward silence. you guys made it back and you dropped your back at your bedside and sat down waiting for ellie to come in.

“so what the fuck has been going on? why are you avoiding me?”

“like you care-“

“of course i care i’ve been going crazy not knowing what’s up with us.” she say next to me and put her hands on my leg.

“are you and cat a thing again?”

“wha-what ?? no ?? what are you talking about?”

“i’m talking about the fact that you and cat were kissing just after you literally said you liked me ??”

“shit. i mean that was nothing i promise, cats just still hung up on the idea of us.”

“okay so you meant to kiss her?”

“what? no look-“

“answer the question ellie.” you can see her visually gulp and you immediately know the answer.

“bee come on-“

“ellie just answer the fucking question it’s not that hard.” you got up from the bed and backed up a little. you felt that god awful itchy feeling in your throat.

“look it’s complicated.”

“did you fucking kiss her or not ellie !!!” you out of instinct yelled at her frustrated that she’s deflecting from the question.

“you know what so what if i kissed her y/n?!”

“because i want to know! you fucking kissed me just hours before!” now you guys were face to face, you had tears streaming down your face.

“yes i fucking kissed her so what !!! we aren’t even dating jesus christ y/n.” she ran her hands over her face and sat back down on the bed. you were furious now, just because you weren’t dating she even told you that you guys would talk after the show. it pissed you off that she didn’t give a shit.

“okay.”

“okay what?” she snapped at you again and looked up. you stood there until you grabbed your back and your keys and started walking out the door.

“where are you go- what the fuck!” she grabbed your arm and you whipped around and she finally got a good look at you. your eyes were bloodshot and there were tears streaming down your face. you shook her arm off and scoffed.

“don’t you fuckin touch me.”

“look i’m sorry-“

“no don’t you fuckin dare, you aren’t sorry.”

“i am-“ you jabbed at her chest with your finger.

“you do not get to be sorry when you’ve already did so much damage.” you let out a sob and looked away.

“i hope you know how much you hurt me ellie i hope you realize that.”

“bee please i didn’t-“

“don’t say you didn’t mean it. i know you did.” you turned around about to walk out when the door opened. jesse was the first to walk in and dina following. they both freeze when they see you both teary eyed.

“hey what’s going on?” jesse asked.

“are you okay?” dina walked past jesse and put her hand on your shoulder. you shook your head and walked past her and out the door. you didn’t know where you were going but you walked to your car and once you got in and closed the door you put your hands on your face and started to sob. you couldn’t believe that it could’ve gone any worse than it did.

…

ellie

“what the fuck did you do ellie?” dina walked past jesse and was face to face with ellie.

“i-i didn’t mean it.”

“mean what ellie?”

“i fucked up so bad shit.” she facepalmed herself and started pacing the room.

“i need to go after her.” she started to walk to the door and dina stopped her.

“no you aren’t leave her alone.” she shook her head and started to sob.

“please i fucked up-“

“ellie what did you do?”

“i fuckin kissed cat and told her that it didn’t matter because we weren’t even together.”

“you’re a fuckin idiot really ellie.”

“you think i don’t know??”

“no because it seems like you need to be told multiple times.” jesse snickered.

“shut up jesse.”

“okay sorry-“ dina rolled her eyes and walked to her room.

“i would fix this if i were you our band depends on it.”

“yeah thanks jess i know that.” jesse put his hands up defensively.

“okay okay just trying to help.” he walked away to his and dina’s shared room. ellie rubbed her face and made her way back to her room and plopped herself into bed. she was face down on the pillow and started to sob into it. she knows she’s an idiot and she hates that she is. you don’t deserve this.

…

@gold-dustwomxn

starting to already work on pt. 6 thankfully i already know what i want to happen so it shouldn’t take too long ! i hope you guys liked this one my first angsty chapter! again if you want to be added to the tag list just comment !!

[notm1keyy]

Idk if this has been asked before, but does Casey have good binding habits? Or does he not bind at all? I know I didn't have good habits for a couple years and it left me with permanent damage so I wondered how he deals with that and if it affects his fighting at all when he's been binding for too long

Hello! No this hasn’t been asked before, but you’d be correct in assuming that Casey doesn’t have the best binding habits.

Whenever Casey is drawn femininely in my style it’s like his ‘post-coming out’ era, BUT ‘pre-coming out’ time he always used his chest binder 24/7 to the point where it did a lot more harm than good.

Casey had the habit of wearing his binder whenever he was with other people— so like the turtles, or April, or strangers, etc. He wore it whenever he worked out or fought or was playing hockey, and overall just overexerting himself to a damaging point. He does have a lot of back and chest pain that he just tries to power through as well as very sensitive tissue/scarring on his skin around his chest area. Casey tried to use binding tape instead but gave up cause it was too tedious. He used to have really bad shortness of breath but it’s better now.

Well eventually he did come out to the gang and Donatello beat him senseless for over-binding his chest (/j). Casey is better about binding post-coming out since he doesn’t wear it around his friends or in private, but in public he does wear his binder WITH much more safety and precaution (6-8 hours tops)

BUT yes these are my rambles rahahaha I love talking about trans Casey it’s my favorite thing ever thank u for allowing me to do so

[meraki-yao]

Happy Friday!

a ficlet friday prompt for ya

A truth so loud you can't ignore (My Youth - Troy Sivan) for firstprince plz 💚

Once again made it longer than what a ficlet should be but have some movie Henry in communication lockdown!

Bea’s curled up on his bed with him, a tub of ice cream in her hands, a box of jaffa cakes in his. David snuggles in between him. It’s been 24 hours since his emails with Alex were leaked to the world, since the world learned his deepest secret before he was ready to come out, since all mediums of communication were confiscated. Philip, who was originally on an engagement with Martha in Scotland, is rushing back, and from the message sent by him and delivered by Shaan, he is absolutely livid. Grandpa hasn’t given any orders or messages other than the communication lockdown. And Mum was still in Botswana, detached as ever. She might not even know what has happened. Henry wishes Alex was here. Henry wishes Dad was here. But right now, it’s just his dog offering kissing and his little sister holding him, trying to cover his much larger frame, to shield him from the chaos and pain. “Can I ask you something about this situation?” Bea asks quietly, fingers running through his tangled locks, combing them out. “Yeah.” “Do you want to tell the truth?” Henry freezes, his hands on his sister’s waist tightening. “What?” “My guess on what Grandpa might do is well… deny the whole thing. Say they were fabricated or something, to either mess with the US election or us. If it comes to that, what would you want to say?” For all the time since he was outed, his treacherous mind has been worrying about what would happen: Alex’s Mum losing the election, the whole world knowing their deepest truths and secrets, him and Alex being forced apart. He never really stopped to think about what he wants to do now. He considers it. Really considers it. If you asked him in the summer, he would probably take up Grandpa’s offer to deny everything, treat them as a scheme by a malevolent third party. It would save the traditional royal image that Grandpa worked so hard- that he worked so hard to maintain, and it would save President Claremont’s election. It seems like it’d be the obvious choice for the bigger picture. Plus, back then, Henry didn’t think Alex loved him. But now? He thinks back to the fateful night where the love of his life marched into his house, drenched from the storm. The unrelenting determination in his eyes, the shake in his voice as his gives Henry an ultimatum. And how in the face of that ultimatum, Henry couldn’t let him go. How he took him to the V&A, his sanctuary, and let his heart truly examine this relationship without any burdens of titles. How Alex held him in his arms, his big hands on his waist, the warmth seeping through the fabric of his hoodie, and how Henry felt warm, not like a rampant blaze, but instead the comforting heat of hearth. How in that moment, Henry knew, with absolute clarity that this was his truth: so bright you can’t keep out, so loud you can’t ignore.   Alex Claremont-Diaz is the love of his life. And there’s no hiding this. There’s no denying, there’s no lying, not in the face in of something beating so loud in his heart. “I’m not going to deny anything.” “I love him, he loves him. That’s that.”

By the way, I love this song, and highly recommend the "kissgun/ throw a kiss fire a gun" remix, it's so good

Thank you so much for the prompt!

[bonesandthebees]

I’m skipping over the ladies in waiting even tough it!s fucked up and a explanation for Wilbur’s behaviour regarding his cane.

I forgot how painful his interactions with Niki were. It!s probably the first time HE visits HER since the mountain. Maybe he’s called her to him, but I feel like most of the effort to keep this friendship has been from Niki!s side.

And now Wilbur finally comes to HER, and it’s not even to see HER! It!s to escape Schlatt! And she!s smart enough to know it. Just like she knew she was not the person Wilbur wanted to see. And she knows he lied to her. And for the first time she calls him out on it! She’s done with his bullshit!

[There was a beat where Niki could only stare at him, no doubt realizing that he had been intending to lie to her. Her lips twitched as though she wanted to frown, but kept her expression neutral.]

This is both a sign to how good Niki is at keeping her true emotions under wraps and how well Wilbur knows her. The fact that she is hiding her emotions from him says enough. He’s not being honest with her. Hasn’t been for a while. So from a political standpoint, she no longer has a reason to trust him (fully, anyway) and maybe she never had and is realising that now.

[“I know one day he’ll have to pay for everything he’s done. I just hope that day is sooner rather than later.”] exquisite foreshadowing. Also irony. So much irony. Wilbur is murdering that man in less than 24 hours. Niki does not know that. Niki sold Schlatt out to Phil with the intention of seeing him dead. Wilbur does not know that.

In another life they could have been murder besties like Phil and Techno. *sigh* the things we could have had. They would have been terrifying.

[She met Wilbur’s eyes as she said this, and Wilbur almost flinched at the ice cold fear that shot up his spine.] I think this is part of the reason while Wilbur (and I) feels like she’s onto him. She knows Phil will take care of it, but she has no reason to suspect Wilbur will be a part of it.

Maybe this is a challenge. She’s testing if he knows. If he will admit it. If he will tell her that there is a plan. (If he still trusts her.) (If he’s still trustworthy.) (and as always, Wilbur fails.’

[But surely if she did suspect Schlatt she would’ve told Wilbur. They always bounced theories like that off of each other.] sweet sweet consequences of his actions, also the rift is growing.

[They could strategize together, just like they did before L’mannes. Instead though, all Wilbur said was, “I hope so too.”]

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP AT WHAT WE COULD HAVE HAD!!!

The beautifully tragic thing about these characters is how close they are to a solution. It feels like they are always one choice away from going back to what they were (or at least attempting it) they could come out stronger. Instead, both of keep making self-preservation choices. They keep choosing to keep their cards close to their chest. To talk around the gaping hole in their friendship. To ignore the problem until it cannot be saved anymore.

I’m insane about them. And I want to hug them both (but mainly Niki since Wilbur has gotten in universe hugs.)

P.s. Bee, I know you can write a Spruce tree hugging Niki in there. Would it fit the vibe? No. Would it be plot relevant? No. Would it freak her out? Probably. Would people question the logic? Absolutely. BUT you COULD do it.

(5/5)

- 🌲

oh yeah, I haven't been able to show the two of them much but the majority of their interactions since wilbur got back has been niki putting in the effort to see him. wilbur really hasn't put any effort into niki and this is his first time being in her room since everything.

and of course niki knows that once again, she's not the person he wanted to see. that really hurts. your best friend has barely made an effort to see you the past month then he finally visits your room and it turns out he wasn't even there to actually visit you? poor niki, man.

niki is really starting to understand that something has changed in her relationship with wilbur. she's been feeling this way even before l'mannes but now this is kind of like final confirmation. and it hurts because she doesn't understand what happened. she doesn't know why he doesn't seem to trust her anymore.

the irony in that scene is delicious they both know more than the other thinks they do but they no longer trust each other enough to say what they're thinking

THEY COULD'VE BEEN MURDER BESTIES WAILING AND CRYING

yeah niki is fairly sure that phil is planning to do something and considering that phil is wilbur's father and that she's picked up on the fact that he's given wilbur 'lessons' over the years, she is already very suspicious that phil is going to include wilbur in his plan. so yeah, she's testing him there. she wants to see if he'll confide in her like he used to. but he doesn't.

literally niki and wilbur's friendship is so tragic. they both could fix things so easily if they were honest with each other. but wilbur's upbringing and now his traumatic experiences has made him afraid to confide in her. and niki wants to trust wilbur, but he's been acting so strange that she doesn't know if that's a smart move anymore. she used to think wilbur was her friend first, but now she's realizing he's always going to be his father's son first and foremost and she's always going to be secondary.

lol I'll see what I can do to get niki close to a spruce tree

either way I actually finished ch 12 last night so I'll probably post it tomorrow? and uh, well, if you're already wailing over this scene between wilbur and niki you're not ready for ch 12. it's painful.

[schrijverr]

Tomorrow Will Be Different 24

Chapter 24 out of 26

Instead of managing to meet up later, Oliver has to keep running with Akio. The only way to keep them safe is to go public with Oliver being alive, leaving him back home in charge of Akio, while Tatsu and Maseo are still in the wind

In this chapter, Oliver has to confront whether he did right by Akio, if he is still doing right by him, now that Tatsu and Maseo are there to comment on it. As well as figure out how he relates to the two Yamashiros without A.R.G.U.S. hanging over them.

On AO3.

Ships: Tatsu and Maseo

Warnings: minor flashbacks to canon bad things that happened to Oliver

~~~

Chapter 24: The First Morning

Oliver can’t keep the promise to his mom to try to sleep. He feels relaxed, more so than he has in a while, but once he gets to his room that’s gone. Instead, the content feeling in his chest is replaced by a weird constriction that he can’t place.

So, he lies in his bed for all but thirty minutes, before he’s turning the light back on and getting behind his desk.

Researching the names on the list gives him something to do and the plan that is further developing in his mind soothes that weird feeling in his chest. He thinks pursuing this will be good for him, to cope.

It’s close to 4:00 when he is interrupted by a knock on the door. Confused, Oliver opens it, looking at who could be up at this hour. “Akio? Are you okay?”

Akio is slightly hunched in on himself and softly asks: “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, buddy, I was already up,” Oliver assures him. “Did something happen?”

“I went by Otōsan and Okāsan’s room. They are asleep and they need the rest, so I should not wake them, but I keep thinking they will not be here in the morning,” Akio confesses.

“That sucks. Would it help to hang around here?”

“Yes, please.” Akio looks relieved that Oliver offered and he didn’t have to ask, which makes a bit of pride unfurl in Oliver’s chest.

“Come on in then and get comfy,” Oliver says, opening the door further and ushering him in.

“What were you doing?” Akio asks, looking at the turned on monitor.

Oliver is glad he minimized the tabs of corrupt Starling elite that were open before he answered the door, as he shrugs: “Trying to find solitaire on it so I’d have something to do.”

Akio looks disgusted by that, which makes Oliver snort. He turns off the computer and says: “Alright, Mr. Judgmental. It’s late. Try to get some sleep.”

For a moment, it looks like Akio will refuse and bully Oliver for his choices, however, Oliver isn’t wrong, it is late. So, Akio decides to save it for now and sleep instead, crawling onto the bed. He asks: “Are you not going to sleep too?”

“Yeah, I probably should,” Oliver agrees, not wanting to set a bad example. He turns off the lights, then gets into the bed next to Akio. The mattress that used to be on the floor is now gone and he doesn’t feel like getting a new one, besides the sharing of space reminds him of the time in the Hong Kong office building. It’ll be okay for a night.

They lie in the silence for a bit. The weird feeling in his chest is gone and he feels kind of tired when he thinks of it, but sleep is a fickle mistress. He hopes Akio has more luck than him.

Akio hasn’t.

After a few beats, Akio suddenly speaks up again, not turning his head but just talking into the darkness. “What is going to happen now?”

“Well,” Oliver starts after thinking for a moment, “after we get all the boring court stuff figured out. You and your family will probably return to Japan and go back to your life. You’ll get to go to an actual school again and see all your friends.”

“It has been over a year since I saw all my friends, I doubt they will still know me,” Akio sighs.

“Hey, that’s nonsense. You’re amazing, Akio, of course they’ll still know you.”

Akio is quiet then he says: “Thank you, but I meant… They won’t know me anymore. This year has not exactly been normal. I know Otōsan and Okāsan tried to make it seem like that, but we had to move and there were the bad man and the lady who came to attack Okāsan and us having to flee in Hong Kong. I do not know if I will be able to be friends with my friends anymore.”

And fuck if Oliver doesn’t know that feeling. It’s unpleasant and isolating, to feel apart from the world you used to be a part of and he doesn’t wish it on Akio. However, his wishes have nothing to do with reality.

Still, he can’t just tell Akio that it sucks and he’s right. Besides, Akio is a better person than he is with more mental fortitude than he should have at his age and less cracks in his personality than should be reasonable after all he’s been through.

So, he nudges Akio slightly and waits until the kid is looking at him. “Hey, you’re going to be okay, buddy. I promise.”

“How would you know?”

“Well, I have been away for three years and came back, which makes me highly qualified to talk about the topic,” Oliver points out. “And I know that you will find your place with your friends again, even if it might take a while.”

Akio looks like he wants to believe him, but isn’t sure he can.

Oliver pushes him over the edge. “Look at it this way, the last few weeks it was just the two of us against the world, you didn’t know when you would see your mom and dad again, but you gave it time and now you’re back together again. Future can be uncertain, but you’re a strong kid. Just give it time and you’ll land on your feet.”

“Tomorrow will be different?” Akio suggests and Oliver supposes it can be applied here as well.

“Yeah, buddy, exactly.”

It’s quiet after that. The silence drags on for so long that Oliver half-thinks Akio has fallen asleep. Then Akio softly says: “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Oliver smiles.

The two sleep peacefully until morning after that. Oliver wakes first around 7:00, pleasantly surprised he slept for three hours straight. Akio is still under deep, so he decides to let him rest and skillfully extracts himself from the bed without waking him.

Remembering the fear that caused Akio to come knocking on his door last night, he leaves a note on the nightstand that he’s going downstairs.

In the hallway, he runs into Maseo. They say their good mornings, before Maseo explains he was going to check on Akio. Oliver is glad he intercepted him. “Akio is sleeping in my room.”

Maseo frowns at that. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, he knocked on my door at four, was scared you guys wouldn’t be here when he woke up, but didn’t want to wake you. I let him stay there,” Oliver explains, suddenly feeling weird having to explain himself to someone who knows Akio better than him. Uncertain he adds: “I hope that is okay?”

“Yes, thank you for looking after him,” Maseo smiles.

“Of course.”

Tatsu comes up behind them, asking Maseo: “Akio, is he okay?”

Maseo explains the situation while Oliver stands there awkwardly. He has done his best with taking care of Akio, but now he is confronted with the only two people who are qualified to judge if he has done an okay enough job at it.

“Thank you,” Tatsu thanks him as well. It is strange to have her gratitude instead of her mild dislike.

“It’s nothing,” Oliver waves it away, not sure if he would have minded her judgment or this thankfulness more. “Let’s just get you two something to eat. Can’t promise anything you’re used to, but it’ll be good.”

“If you ate foreign food for a year, I am sure we will manage,” Tatsu smiles, the small barb feels very welcome.

“Har, har,” he rolls his eyes, but leads the way willingly. He can actually cook now, though he’s actually better with Asian dishes and open fire cooking than American food. Still, he thinks he can manage eggs and bacon.

Due to it being school day, Raisa is already awake. However, he ushers her out of the kitchen, promising he won’t burn it down. He wants to have this moment with Tatsu and Maseo.

As expected, with actual cooking skills the eggs and bacon aren’t that difficult, though Oliver can only produce scrambled eggs.

While he mans the stove, Tatsu and Maseo take a seat at the breakfast bar that is attached to the kitchen island. It’s quiet for a moment, then Maseo says: “Your house is somehow not what I expected.”

“What? Way more obscenely posh and lavish?” Oliver comments with a quirked brow. The three years have given him a lot of perspective on his previously so normal life.

“It’s… bigger, certainly,” Maseo agrees politely.

Oliver snorts at the massive understatement. He plates two portions of breakfast and serves the two as he says: “Let’s not make it weird. My family is crazy rich, I know. But we all know that didn’t prepare me for actual life. This doesn’t change that I still am that same, stubborn asshole you two met.”

“I think idiot is a better description,” Maseo smiles.

“Or nuisance,” Tatsu adds.

“Hey, no need to kick a man while he’s down,” Oliver says faux-indignant, pointing at both of them with the spatula.

The two laugh again, tension broken, as Oliver plates his own food and joins them. They have shared many meals together, but none quite like this. No A.R.G.U.S. hanging over their heads. He is happy to discover that without him endangering their family, they get along better.

Still, neither Tatsu or Maseo are chatterboxes, so Oliver soon turns on the TV, switching over to a news channel where the story of the Yamashiros’ miraculous survival is breaking.

“In other news, Maseo and Tatsu Yamashiro have been confirmed to be the only survivors of the human experimentation ship found earlier this week,” the news anchor says. “The ship was, according to our sources, testing a bio weapon, however there was an alleged mix up with the vaccines, causing the crew and only some of the captives to get infected. However, only Maseo and Tatsu Yamashiro did not die due to injuries before the ship could be found.”

All of them listen intently. They’ve gone over the cover story in much detail yesterday, but it’s always good to know what parts have been released.

“The two names are well known after their son, Akio Yamashiro, appeared in Hong Kong four weeks ago with Starling, billionaire Oliver Queen, who was assumed to be shipwrecked before his appearance. It has not been confirmed as of yet, but rumors say the family has been reunited at the Queen mansion after the two elder Yamashiros were cleared by the CDC,” the news anchor continues.

Oliver makes a mental note at that to talk to his mom about privacy. He somehow can’t imagine either Tatsu and Maseo wanting to appear in front of the press.

The news anchor goes on: “As of now, there has not been a statement from the Queen family about what this might mean for the future of Akio Yamashiro, who is now under the guardianship of Oliver Queen. Nor have they commented on the news about the experimentation that the eldest Queen heir must have been subjected to while aboard on the very same ship. Many are wondering; what exactly happened to him there?”

His mind flashes to Ivo first, how he shot him and made him stitch himself up, strapped him down to a table and injected god knows what into his blood stream. It’s quickly followed by the usual: seeing Sara drown twice, his father shooting himself, Amanda waterboarding him, Shado so lifelessly on the ground, Billy Wintergreen with that blade cutting into him, Slade…

It is Tatsu, who snaps him out of it with a hand softly pressing down on his arm, making him realizing how tightly he’s holding his fork.

“Sorry about that,” he clears his throat.

“Do not let them get to you. We all have secrets we’d prefer to keep. It is not your job to satisfy their curiosity,” she tells him, a gleam in her eyes tells him that advice is personal too.

He smiles at her gratefully: “Thank you. I’ll talk to my mom as well, by the way. Neither of you will have to see a camera if you don’t want to.”

“I wish that were me,” Thea interrupts them, having just come into the kitchen, not having heard beyond the last bit. When she sees them look, she shrugs: “I saw the news while I was getting ready for school. Everyone’s gonna want to talk to me.”

“You don’t have to tell them jack shit, if you don’t want to, Speedy,” Oliver says immediately, protectiveness flaring up.

“Tell that to Margo,” Thea rolls her eyes.

“Your friend?” Oliver asks, continuing when Thea nods. “If she is that pushy, she’s a bad friend and you should drop her.”

“Remind me where I asked for this sage wisdom, oh dear brother of mine,” Thea retorts, before quickly deflecting the conversation. “This is not Raisa’s normal breakfast.”

“I made it,” Oliver answers, not liking that Thea isn’t open for his advice, but also not wanting to fight with her this morning.

“Since when can you cook?” Thea asks surprised.

Tatsu gives him a look that would be blank to anyone who doesn’t know her, but screams amused to Oliver. She says: “Probably since he no longer had a maid.”

Thea quietens a little, not used to references of his time away. Oliver covers is with played up arrogance. “I can do my laundry now too. Put me back in a college dorm and I might actually make it through the year this time.”

The words make Thea giggle as she gets breakfast for herself, before plopping down next to the trio. “Did you sleep well?” she asks Tatsu and Maseo politely.

“We did, thank you for hosting us,” Maseo smiles equally politely.

After that the conversation falls silent for a bit. None of them really know how this dynamic will work.

In the end, Thea’s caring personality and years of training at being a proper host wins out and she says: “I want to thank you too. For being with Ollie. I know it wasn’t your choice, but what little he said about you two has been good and I am grateful for it.”

Tatsu and Maseo receive her gratitude graciously, but Oliver slings an arm around Thea’s shoulder and uncomfortably says: “Hey, who is whose protective sibling here?”

“Correction, I’m a caring sibling. You can continue your routine of intimidating boys that want to dance with me at the galas and disapproving of my friends and life choices in peace. Now I have to go, a friend is picking me up for school.”

“Is the friend Margo?” Oliver asks.

“Bye, Ollie,” Thea says pointedly, before sweeping out of the room, snatching a bit of toast to eat on the way.

Once she is gone, Maseo comments: “She looks better than last time we saw her.”

Proudly Oliver smiles: “She has been doing better. I’ve been trying to influence her away from the drugs and mom’s actually trying parenting.”

That earns him a set of strange looks from Tatsu and Maseo, but he doesn’t care. His family has always been a little fucked up and if his mother wants to start trying to parent after twenty five years of being a mom, he isn’t going to complain.

“It is clear how much you care for her. It is nice to see where you learned to be a big brother after witnessing it with Akio,” Maseo tells him.

“We left him in good hands,” Tatsu agrees.

Oliver doesn’t know what to say to that, so just beams at them. The whole time he was so scared he couldn’t do right by Akio and that Tatsu and Maseo made a mistake trusting him with the life of their son. So, it’ll always feel good to hear from them that he did well.

[a-silent-symphony]

NIGHTWISH's TUOMAS HOLOPAINEN: First Live Show After FLOOR JANSEN's Cancer Diagnosis 'Was Emotional For All Of Us'

NIGHTWISH keyboardist and main songwriter Tuomas Holopainen spoke to Ireland's Overdrive about what it has been like for him and his bandmates to return to the road just weeks after singer Floor Jansen revealed her breast cancer diagnosis. "The first show of this [European tour] leg in Antwerp [Belgium on November 20] was just so emotional for all of us, but especially for Floor," he said. "It all came out during the song 'Sleeping Sun'. She couldn't sing the song towards the end, and she just broke down. It was a positive breakdown, if you know what I mean. It was just a huge release of so much anxiety and pressure that had been building up inside her. It was a culmination of beating cancer, finally do[ing] this tour, and [the fact] that her voice was good enough to do what she loves to do. All of that came out at the same time, and it's been wonderful ever since."

On November 18, Floor revealed that she was "cancer free" after undergoing surgery to have a tumor removed following a breast cancer diagnosis. At the time, she wrote on social media that "the surgery took everything cancerous out and it hasn't spread!"

Jansen went public with her diagnosis in October. At the time, she wrote: "The word cancer is a shocker. All that you found important in life before this diagnosis changes radically within minutes. Now I just want to be healthy again. I want to see my daughter grow into a woman; I want to live! And the scariest part of this diagnosis is that I thought I was healthy! I didn't feel the cancer, I didn't know it was there until I, as a 40+ woman, went to a standard mammogram checkup. Something many countries offer, for free even for the lucky ones. Had I not gone there, the tumor would have gone undetected. In a year from now this could have grown much bigger. The thought of that makes me share this story with you. A mammogram is lifesaving! It's uncomfortable and you might think that you won't have something in your breasts anyway but GO! And for the men reading this: remind your wife, girlfriend, mother, sister to go and get checked. Even without the luxury I as a western woman experience with free mammogram checkups: GO! Luckily, there are many organizations that offer information about self-detection if you do not have access or funds for a mammogram. If I might inspire you to take good care of yourself, then something good will come out of this cancer diagnosis."

Jansen made her live debut as the frontwoman of NIGHTWISH on October 1, 2012 at Showbox Sodo in Seattle, Washington following the abrupt departure of the band's lead singer of five years, Anette Olzon. Jansen officially joined NIGHTWISH in 2013.

As part of NIGHTWISH, Jansen landed two number one albums in Finland, and Top Five albums in Austria, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, the Netherlands, Norway, Sweden and Switzerland.

Born in the Netherlands, Jansen joined her first band, one of the world's first symphonic metal bands, AFTER FOREVER, when she was only 16 years old. The group went on to release five albums from 2000 to 2007, before they broke up in 2009.

Jansen's next band, REVAMP, released two albums in 2010 and 2013, before she joined NIGHTWISH as a full-time member. NIGHTWISH's first album with Jansen as the lead singer was 2015's "Endless Forms Most Beautiful", which landed in Top 10s around the world. This was followed by 2020's "Human. :II: Nature." , which was also an international success.

Jansen has toured extensively with the band and appeared on three of NIGHTWISH's live albums "Showtime, Storytime", "Vehicle Of Spirit" and "Decades: Live In Buenos Aires".

In 2019, Jansen participated in the popular Dutch TV show "Beste Zangers" where she scored a big hit with "Phantom Of The Opera" together with Henk Poort. She was recognized with a Dutch Popprijs award — a prestigious accolade for artists that has made important contributions to Dutch music. In the same year, her first solo tour sold out in less than 24 hours.

Floor will release her debut solo album, "Paragon", on March 24. The LP contains "a diverse collection of pop-infused tracks and emotional ballads influenced by the sounds of her career," according to a press release.

[spidersxyz]

I cannot express enough how beautiful of a story Outer Wilds is.. I’ve been playing for a little over a month (took a lot of breaks because I’m in the middle of moving) and I just finished it for the first time last night, I’ve been so emotional since 😭. I love exploring a game to its last minute detail before actually completing it which is why it took a while to beat and it has genuinely gotten me through so much these past hard weeks. It hasn’t even been 24 hours and I already wish I could play it for the first time again, I can’t imagine how people who played it all the way back in 2019 feel… Truly an amazing game <3

[black-arcana]

NIGHTWISH's TUOMAS HOLOPAINEN: First Live Show After FLOOR JANSEN's Cancer Diagnosis 'Was Emotional For All Of Us'

NIGHTWISH keyboardist and main songwriter Tuomas Holopainen spoke to Ireland's Overdrive about what it has been like for him and his bandmates to return to the road just weeks after singer Floor Jansen revealed her breast cancer diagnosis. "The first show of this [European tour] leg in Antwerp [Belgium on November 20] was just so emotional for all of us, but especially for Floor," he said. "It all came out during the song 'Sleeping Sun'. She couldn't sing the song towards the end, and she just broke down. It was a positive breakdown, if you know what I mean. It was just a huge release of so much anxiety and pressure that had been building up inside her. It was a culmination of beating cancer, finally do[ing] this tour, and [the fact] that her voice was good enough to do what she loves to do. All of that came out at the same time, and it's been wonderful ever since."

On November 18, Floor revealed that she was "cancer free" after undergoing surgery to have a tumor removed following a breast cancer diagnosis. At the time, she wrote on social media that "the surgery took everything cancerous out and it hasn't spread!"

Jansen went public with her diagnosis in October. At the time, she wrote: "The word cancer is a shocker. All that you found important in life before this diagnosis changes radically within minutes. Now I just want to be healthy again. I want to see my daughter grow into a woman; I want to live! And the scariest part of this diagnosis is that I thought I was healthy! I didn't feel the cancer, I didn't know it was there until I, as a 40+ woman, went to a standard mammogram checkup. Something many countries offer, for free even for the lucky ones. Had I not gone there, the tumor would have gone undetected. In a year from now this could have grown much bigger. The thought of that makes me share this story with you. A mammogram is lifesaving! It's uncomfortable and you might think that you won't have something in your breasts anyway but GO! And for the men reading this: remind your wife, girlfriend, mother, sister to go and get checked. Even without the luxury I as a western woman experience with free mammogram checkups: GO! Luckily, there are many organizations that offer information about self-detection if you do not have access or funds for a mammogram. If I might inspire you to take good care of yourself, then something good will come out of this cancer diagnosis."

Jansen made her live debut as the frontwoman of NIGHTWISH on October 1, 2012 at Showbox Sodo in Seattle, Washington following the abrupt departure of the band's lead singer of five years, Anette Olzon. Jansen officially joined NIGHTWISH in 2013.

As part of NIGHTWISH, Jansen landed two number one albums in Finland, and Top Five albums in Austria, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, the Netherlands, Norway, Sweden and Switzerland.

Born in the Netherlands, Jansen joined her first band, one of the world's first symphonic metal bands, AFTER FOREVER, when she was only 16 years old. The group went on to release five albums from 2000 to 2007, before they broke up in 2009.

Jansen's next band, REVAMP, released two albums in 2010 and 2013, before she joined NIGHTWISH as a full-time member. NIGHTWISH's first album with Jansen as the lead singer was 2015's "Endless Forms Most Beautiful", which landed in Top 10s around the world. This was followed by 2020's "Human. :II: Nature." , which was also an international success.

Jansen has toured extensively with the band and appeared on three of NIGHTWISH's live albums "Showtime, Storytime", "Vehicle Of Spirit" and "Decades: Live In Buenos Aires".

In 2019, Jansen participated in the popular Dutch TV show "Beste Zangers" where she scored a big hit with "Phantom Of The Opera" together with Henk Poort. She was recognized with a Dutch Popprijs award — a prestigious accolade for artists that has made important contributions to Dutch music. In the same year, her first solo tour sold out in less than 24 hours.

Floor will release her debut solo album, "Paragon", on March 24. The LP contains "a diverse collection of pop-infused tracks and emotional ballads influenced by the sounds of her career," according to a press release.

[percontaion-points]

KLO chapters 7 & 8

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 7

“Cold?”

 I shake my head.

 “Don’t lie, Lilla,” he scoffs. “I asked because I want to know.”

 “Alright, maybe a little. But I’m okay. The view is worth it.”

“Shit, girl.” He places the cigarette between his lips, climbing from the hood to retrieve a sweater from the car. He holds out the sleeves for my arms. Once I’m wrapped in it, he takes the cigarette away from his lips. “You need to speak up for yourself. Your needs matter, you know that, right?”

Again, I feel like I missed an entire chapter. You know, where Lilla explained how her emotional needs aren’t being met by her husband, and Cash agreed to help her out. 

“I dreamed about when my grandfather died. I was talking to him, just before. He told me a story about how he met my grandmother.” 

I smile. “Can I hear it?” He shifts gears, slowing down, pulling into our destination. 

“No, I don’t want you to go back to sleep.”

I feel like I’d appreciate all of this “falling in love like we’re in a coming of age indie movie” business a lot more if this wasn’t about a woman having an affair. 

“I went to high school with him. We just knew each other. He’s not a bad person, Cash. Marriage is not always easy.”

Then why are you at an art fair in a different town with Cash and haven’t seen your husband in over 24 hours? 

My god, don’t stand there and try to defend the man that you’re currently cheating on!

Like Cinderella, my pumpkin moment is crawling nearer and nearer, sun seeking cover behind all of our creatively named colors in the sky.

Chapter 7 summary: Lilla stays out and watches the stars with Cash. When it’s time to go to sleep, she curls up in the backseat of his car. In the morning, he wakes her up with coffee and a pastry, and tells her that the lady who sold it to him told him about an art fair not too far away. 

As they’re wandering around the fair, he starts to question her… basically about her motives. Again, I feel like I missed the chapter where she explained to him that Adam is kind of terrible, and Cash agreed to show her what it’s like to actually be loved. Because we’re already at that stage. There’s this long bit where Lilla is begging him to please not talk about Adam, and actively tries to defend him! Cash is quick to basically say the same thing that I did: why the fuck are you defending the man yet you’re here with me?

Then they sit around and try to come up with random colour names. This scene would be better if they were shown smoking pot or something, since that’s the kind of vibes that it has. However, as Cash kisses her, she feels like Cinderella when the clock strikes midnight. 

Chapter 8

“Where the hell have you been, Lil? I have been calling and calling. I thought you were abducted!”

[...]

“A drive? You’ve been gone for almost two days, Lilla!” 

“Yeah, a drive.”

Adam later, after being served divorce papers: The divorce came out of nowhere! There were no signs at all!

“I probably would have if you told me you were driving all the way to Tangerine to shop. Why the hell can’t you shop in Blossom?”

These town names feel like the temporary names you put in, to be replaced by an actual town name later… but then the author forgot to actually do that. 

Cash lifts my hand, toying with my fingers. “I missed you,” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” I glance over my shoulder like the paranoid cheater I am. “Me too.”

They’ve only been apart for a few hours at this point. JFC, calm down. 

“Friday,” I whisper to myself, holding my hand over my heart that hasn’t beat this way in … ever. “Friday.”

Chapter 8 summary: When Lilla comes home, Adam is angry. I’d like to emphasise that he doesn’t express worry that she was gone for two days… Only anger. And I kind of get it, because she won’t tell him where she was. I’m mainly on Lilla’s side, because again. Only anger, zero worry. 

Lilla says that she’s going grocery shopping, and Adam insists on tagging along with her. They ride in complete silence the entire 30 miles to the store. When they get there, Adam bitches about every single thing that she picks out, and then starts to bemoan why she had to drive 30 miles to go fucking shopping. 

Cash obviously sees the two of them, and greets them as he would any other customer. Lilla goes over into the produce section, and Adam gets fed up with her taking forever to pick out a tomato. As soon as he leaves “for the bathroom”, Cash comes over and starts openly flirting with her. He’s mainly angry that she would have brought her husband, and Lilla explains that she couldn’t get him to leave her alone when she got back. Cash tells Lilla that he’ll take her out dancing on Friday. 

[pumathoughts]

Buffalo Bills 2023 Season: Roller Coaster of Emotions

What a long strange trip it has been this season aye Bills fans? We love the stress of rooting for this team and I don’t know why. The playoff drought changed us for sure BUT these Buffalo Bills are different. They have to be at least, right!? But I mean if you told me in July that the Bills would: lose week 1 to a Jets team with Aaron Rodgers not playing after the first series, lose in London to the Jags, lose to the Pats in Foxboro, lose a sluggish game to Denver on a last second field goal they missed but 12 men on the field gave them another chance, fire Ken Dorsey, lose in OT to Philadelphia, THEN have to win 5 straight just to get the 2 seed in the playoffs because the Dolphins got to 11 wins first….I would’ve said, “Jesus that’s a lot going on but I’m not surprised they made it hard on themselves.”

This has been a real test of patience this season. I mean we all have people we talk to each game day, group chats, phone calls, etc. and we all exude the same emotions during a game, “Go Bills, I hate this team, Fire McDermott, Big W Go Bills!” through every Facebook post, every meme, every Tweet, Retweet, sub tweet (the platform is called “X” now yet we still say Tweet and Retweet, weird right?) we have seen it all, everything has been said some true some not but opinions are out there. Whether it’s Colin Cowherd making proclamations, Nick Wright dropping his stupid ass banners, Stephen A. Smith screaming, Mad Dog Russo yelling, there hasn’t been a hot take unheard. But we’ve been hearing it since early this summer.

Josh Allen started by saying he’s 100% committed to football, then went on a getaway with his celebrity girlfriend the paparazzi caught on a balcony. I read some doozy of hot takes on this, like he should be more focused, not on vacation. Um, he’s allowed to go on vacation with his girlfriend in the OFFSEASON! No one in this world makes their job their life. It’s not something you do 24 hours a day 365 days a year. You take vacations, you go places, you do things. Josh Allen is allowed to do that too. Then we get past this to training camp when hope springs eternal and optimism is just at a fever pitch. Super Bowl or bust was the attitude, a Lombardi trophy banner was put in the field house to motivate the team! That was met with scoffs from national media members but McDermott being the master motivator he is (I’ll get to Ty Dunne’s article in a minute) it’s about the bigger picture. The trophy is what you work for, obviously. But then the season starts.

Aaron Rodgers had a season ending injury after 4 plays into his first game as a New York Jet. The scene was set for the Bills to assert themselves as a team that would show no mercy. They should’ve rolled the Jets with Zack Wilson at QB. Instead, I held my newborn son who was hours old by the time that game started, and watched this team bumble over themselves and lose on a punt return to get shocked by the Jets. I mean Rodgers went down and the air left MetLife. That game was over right there EXCEPT it wasn’t. This vaunted Bills offense only mustered 16 points in that loss. I was angry for 4 days after this game. I shouldn’t let this team dictate my mood but I do and I hate myself for it.

Then, all the questions, all the chatter of McDermott’s game management, Josh Allen’s turnovers, what will happen now, is the sky falling? Answer was no, they smoked the Raiders and Commanders setting up a showdown with the “greatest show on surf” Dolphins….and absolutely put on a clinic of defensive mastery. The Dolphins scored 70 points the week before on Denver so of course that’s all you hear about the Dolphins the rest of the year. The Bills beat Miami by 28 points. Then over to London to lose Matt Milano, Da’Quan Jones, and the game to Jacksonville and the funk begins. Frustration is the best way I can describe the 5 weeks following London. A 14-9 win against the Giants which I was there for, loss in Foxboro to New England, win against Tampa, losses to the Bengals and Denver which get Ken Dorsey fired.

Don’t get me wrong by this point in the season I wanted McDermott gone. I knew it would be an end of season firing. But instead, I get Ken Dorsey’s head on a platter and a beat down of a sad Jets team, then the Bills go to Philadelphia. Now when Allen fired it to Gabe Davis in overtime and he missed it, I was mad but IT SHOULD HAVE NEVER GOTTEN TO THAT POINT! Allen threw a INT in a bad moment late in regulation, but gunslingers throw picks. Sean McDermott elected to not give his superstar QB a chance to lead a game-winning drive with 20 seconds left and 1 timeout. Instead, he elects to take a knee and go to overtime where he AND Josh Allen are 0-6. Not to mention the Eagles rushed onto the field for a fire-drill field goal attempt that McDermott CALLED A TIMEOUT TO ICE THE KICKER FOR! I mean, what the hell are you doing!? Let it ride maybe he misses it, but we’ll never know now. Instead, they let Jalen Hurts waltz into the endzone in OT to go into the bye week with a season on the brink.

Then Ty Dunne of Golongtd.com drops a bombshell expose of Sean McDermott and his management of the team and how he isn’t the coach to bring this team to a championship. The most odd and controversial tidbit from this article is in 2019 at training camp McDermott tries to make the point of the team coming together and communicating like the 9/11 terrorists did in achieving their goal. This leaves me with so many more questions but this almost confirmed it that if the wheels fell off the final 5 games McDermott was gone. The Bills won 4 games out of the bye week, in Kansas City, ran all over Dallas, nail biters against the Chargers and Patriots (those didn’t inspire confidence) then a showdown in Miami for the Division and the 2 seed in the playoffs.

They left A LOT of points on the field, that game should’ve been 48-14 but it wasn’t. the Bills outgained the Dolphins and just all around bullied them off the field. Tua’s quest to be taken seriously as a QB took a hit with a pedestrian night and a game sealing INT and now the Dolphins get the pleasure of going to KC instead of having a home game. The Bills get the suddenly hot Steelers.

What can be said other than this season has been typical Bills through and through with a surprise or two. I felt anger, joy, confusion, shock, dismay, hilarity, and overall content with this season. The talk of Allen’s turnovers gets super annoying but he keeps turning the ball over so I can’t be too mad at it. Now we look forward to a matchup with the Steelers who have had their own issues this season and also fired their offensive coordinator. This should be a game where the Bills win by 10 but honestly it can go either way for me. But that is another post for another day. This regular season is over and the Bills somehow salvaged 11 wins. It truly is a week to week league and with this team the roller-coaster of emotions just seemingly never stops, but what a ride it is.

[makinghomehere]

Motherhood

May 4, 2023

Part 4

Today was hard. Baby has fought every nap, has slept maybe 40 minutes since he woke up this morning at 6 am. I’m feeling overwhelmed. I’m feeling frustrated. Honestly i could burst into tears right this second about everything that feels like it’s going wrong. I feel like I’m backed into a corner. Like i have no time for myself. I’ve bearly ate, I’m covered in multiple bodily liquids. I haven’t showered. I’m home alone, with the baby. Every. Day. he’s having a hard time. So am i. “These are the moments you’ll miss” i say to myself. I close my eyes and pretend I’m 80, and he’s got a family of his own and only calls sometimes. I cry. I legit started bawling. It hurts that I’m so frustrated. It hurts that i can’t soothe him and make him comfortable. It hurts that i don’t feel human anymore, I’m only a mom. I want to find myself outside of him. I want us to coexist. But he would crawl back inside of me if he could, and that would be ok. I try to not beat myself up. Everyday can’t be perfect. Everyday can’t be easy. My head pounds from the crying, both his and mine, my emotions go from rage to sadness to grief all at once. I miss my own mom. She wasn’t perfect but she just was. She was her own person first, and maybe that was her downfall. But i respect her need to be herself. I’m sad she never got to see me as a mom, though in these moments I’m glad she hasn’t. I can’t imagine calling her and asking for advice, because she would laugh and say “how do you think mothers have done it since the begining of time?.. sacrifice”

I’m sacrificing all of myself. For him and for the better of our family. I don’t get to work and escape for hours on end. I can’t even use the toilet alone without childcare figured out. I can’t make myself a meal without a baby on my hip. I can’t go to bed when I’m tired without rocking him to sleep first. I’m tired of sacrificing and it’s only been 6 months. Please tell me it gets easier to disregard yourself. To forget your own feelings. Tell me it gets easier to prioritize everyone else.

I’ve always been a people pleaser. I’ve always cared deeply for others and put them ahead of myself. But when you grow a baby inside of you and you raise this baby, 24/7 with no days off, you learn of a new kind of love. A new kind of sacrifice. A new kind of self loathing. A new form of jealousy. A new ache for something different.

I tell myself that this isn’t the season for my home to be perfectly clean. It isn’t the season to pamper myself and go to the gym. Or the hair salon. Or the bar. This is the season of love. Of caring for others. Of self sacrifice. This is the season of learning. I tell myself it gets easier. But i can’t tell if I’m hopeful or naive.

love always,

With tears,

xoxo liv xoxo