#its important to know how to use it though!

[hawkins-batman]

The Noah Schnapp Situation Going Into S5

With Stranger Things Season 5 coming out this year, we are unfortunately going to see a revival of the debacle around Noah, even though by then it will be an almost 2 year old subject. So, I thought I would get ahead of that with some of my thoughts based on what I've seen these last few weeks and more broadly over the last 6 or more months I've been on this scene.

Spoiler Alert: This is going to be a long one. It'll probably be my new pinned post.

Why Still Talk About It?

Frankly? Because it's still going on. Keep in mind, Liam Payne died in October 2024 (just three months ago), right around Noah's birthday, and THIS is how Twitter responded to that.

And just in case anyone thinks I had to dig back a whole 3 months to find Noah-hate-content on Twitter, here was just random things I grabbed from the last week:

Which brings me to the next point.

Why Do You Even Care?

"Noah doesn't know you." "He's not your pookie."

I know that. The funny thing is, from what little I know about Noah, I'm pretty sure if he DID know me beyond the ONE DM conversation we've had, he'd probably tell me to chill. Dude is very non-confrontational and nice. So, why do it?

Because I think the online movement in favor of Palestinian self-determination has been hijacked by teenagers and performative leftists who care more about looking good for their peers than practicing what they preach.

Because (as you can see above and in screenshots like the one below), people who claim to hold my liberal/progressive/left-leaning values have used this as an opportunity to be openly homophobic and antisemitic towards a then-19-year old who had JUST come out of the closet.

Proponents of the hate campaign against Noah have said that they are just "holding him accountable" or "criticizing him" in the hopes he "learns something."

Look up. Point to me which image is accountability. Point to me the valid criticisms.

There are none. There is just flagrant homophobia. And then there are posts like this one, coming from the same crowd:

This behavior is wrong on its face.

It is violent. It is bullying (which doesn't seem like strong enough of a word) and it's bigoted.

Wanna see more? Look up @noah_schnapp on Twitter/X. See what they've done to his account.

Inevitably, some of the people participating in this will see this blog post. If you've made it this far, this is for you:

This behavior discredits your activism. It makes you look performative and fake to say in one breath that you are a "Leftist" who cares about Palestinian lives as well as the lives of minority groups worldwide, and then to turn around and talk like this about a Jewish person and a gay KID. Because he WAS a kid when this started. Furthermore, it makes it clear to those of us who actually hold the beliefs we claim, that you are vapid enough to use Palestinian suffering for your own personal vendettas. That the APPEARANCE of goodness is more important than goodness itself. And that you will shuck solidarity with minority groups the MOMENT one of them steps out of the lines you have drawn around them.

Not to mention...

It's Based Mostly On Lies

As a reminder, this is what Noah Schnapp actually said shortly after October 7, 2023:

Read that again.

"...we will hope and pray for safety, justice, liberation, and self-determination in Palestine." That was part of the very first thing he ever said about the issue.

And then this happened:

This was the image he was crucified for.

Stickers that weren't even his. That he wasn't holding up or making. He was in a cafe, someone else came up to him with them, and he was videoed with that person.

That's it. That's all. All those tweets you saw above? The fake stories made up about him like this one?

All of that was supposedly "accountability."

The harassment of his family. Murder threats. Rape threats. All for stickers that weren't even his.

There's even a paid Stranger Things author on this very site, styling herself as a Byler shipper, who has contributed to the lies that have further added to the hate campaign I've described.

As an aside, Noah wasn't the only one in that video. The influencers that actually posted the video and HAD THE STICKERS?

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

And just to be clear - I don't think they should get hate. I think non-Jewish online Leftists appropriated a term from Jewish culture, redefined it, and are weaponizing it to beat down Jews all over the internet—which is par for the course for this charcuterie board of performative activism.

Yet the point stands. Noah was specifically targeted; and the homophobia that IMMEDIATELY came from the Left suggests to me that it was his sexuality and cultural/religious identity that motivated the attacks.

Again, I'll say, this is wrong.

Noah Has Since Responded

It hasn't stopped the bullying.

Didn't stop him from withdrawing from spaces he loved. From needing therapy from what we've learned from his now-deleted second TikTok.

And that really says something, does it? He cleared up his point. He tried to clarify and even apologize.

They didn't accept it. Not because it wasn't good enough. Not because it was "too late." Because this was the point. They wanted to keep doing it. They get sick joy from it.

Which is why...

I'm Not Shutting Up About This

This post doesn't even nearly cover the whole situation. The Byler fans who try to replace Noah's image in fan art and fan fiction. Who fan cast themselves as Will instead of Noah. The stalking and doxxing on Twitter. People reporting to GIANT hate accounts his location and when he's alone, PRAYING for him to be hurt.

I wish I could cover it all.

We have to stand up to this. On tumblr, on TikTok, on Threads, Twitter/X—everywhere we see it.

For our gay and Jewish siblings who see how Noah was attacked and feel less safe in their online spaces as a result, we have to speak up and say something.

And yeah. We have to say something for Noah, too.

The person who replied to me like this:

Him?

He did it because he needed to see a show of love from his fans. Doesn't mean he's perfect. Doesn't mean he won't mess up or do something in the future.

And no. Standing up for Noah, or for Jewish people, or other gay folks does not make you a genocide supporter or apologist. It doesn't mean you want any innocent people harmed. Don't give them the power to talk down to you like that. It's bullshit. You know it, and I know it.

All standing up to this vile shit is is an acknowledgement that Noah is a living, breathing person, as some of these people tend to forget.

And he didn't deserve this.

Any of it.

[thesecondhandwoman]

I’ll think of the jist

When reader is well enough to work for ambessa she uses a rollator (walker with like a table/seat) so she can carry multiple things at once that she couldn’t with a cane.

reader interrupts a meeting quietly to give Ambessa something, the room is full of big strong people who look down on sick ppl even if it’s genetic (:/)

They comment on her ability to work and ambessas like Nuh uh she fine brotha and Ambessa thinks nothing of it, reader thinks a lot of it and can’t sleep

lol thank you goodbye

MORE THAN ENOUGH

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: Being Ambessa’s assistant and having chronic pain was difficult, but it was always worse when you tried to help on more manageable days only be to told that you are incapable.

Request: @possessedmagpie

A/N: This is part two of Chronically Ill

The soft light of morning slipped through the towering windows of Ambessa Medarda’s estate, a golden glow painting the cold stone walls. The days always started early in Noxus, the city that never slept, but for you, mornings weren’t a signal to begin. They were another checkpoint in the never-ending cycle of managing your body’s rebellion against itself.

You shifted beneath the thick covers, testing your limbs carefully. The ache that usually gripped you like iron shackles had ebbed to a low thrum today. It wasn’t gone, but it was manageable. Relief flickered in your chest, tempered by caution. You had learned long ago that even “good days” came with limits.

The other constant in your mornings lay beside you, Ambessa, her powerful frame still as she slept, her features softened in the pale light. Despite the countless demands on her time and energy, she always made space for you. She had stayed the night again, likely at your insistence, despite her busy schedule. She’d never admit it, but you suspected she worried about you constantly.

As if sensing your gaze, Ambessa stirred, her amber eyes blinking open. A small smile tugged at her lips as she caught you watching her.

“Good morning, little one,” she murmured, her voice low and warm, still laced with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, voice hushed, as though speaking too loudly would break the delicate peace between you.

Her eyes searched your face, her brow furrowing slightly. “How are you feeling?” she asked, the question laden with genuine care.

You considered her words, stretching carefully to test the limits of your body. “Better,” you said after a moment. “Not great, but I think I can manage today.”

Ambessa propped herself up on one elbow, her expression skeptical but not dismissive. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I want to try. I can’t stand feeling useless, Ambessa.”

“You’re never useless,” she said firmly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Your value isn’t measured by how much you can do. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” you murmured, though the weight in your chest said otherwise.

Her hand lingered against your cheek, her touch both grounding and reassuring. “Alright,” she said after a moment. “But promise me you’ll be careful. No pushing yourself too hard. If you need to stop, you stop. Understood?”

“Understood,” you said softly, leaning into her palm.

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering just long enough to make your heart ache in the best way.

By mid-morning, the estate was bustling with activity. Servants and guards moved swiftly through the halls, their boots echoing against the polished stone floors. The sheer size of the estate could be overwhelming, even intimidating, but today you felt determined.

The rollator was your lifeline, its sturdy frame and built-in seat allowing you to navigate the estate without collapsing. It wasn’t a perfect solution—there were still moments when the pain flared unexpectedly, threatening to rob you of the strength to keep going—but it gave you a sense of independence.

Today, you carried an important correspondence marked with the crest of General Vessar. The message had arrived early, its contents urgent enough to require Ambessa’s immediate attention. Despite the challenges of moving through the estate, you were determined to deliver it personally.

The grand hall where Ambessa was meeting her advisors loomed ahead, the heavy double doors closed but not impenetrable. Pausing just outside, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself against the ache radiating through your legs.

The moment you entered, the room fell silent. The rollator’s wheels squeaked faintly as you moved across the polished floor, your presence a disruption in the midst of their intense discussions.

At the head of the long table, Ambessa sat tall and imposing, her amber eyes sharp and focused. The sight of her sent a pang of comfort through your chest; she was the one constant in a world that often felt too harsh to navigate.

“Ambessa,” you said, your voice soft but steady.

Her gaze snapped to you, her expression shifting immediately. The hard edge she wore in these meetings melted away, replaced by a warmth that seemed out of place amidst the cold, calculating figures around her.

“Little one,” she greeted, her voice low and tender.

You grabbed the sealed letter on the table of your rollator as you moved it a bit closer and held it out to her. “This arrived this morning. From General Vessar.”

She shifted in her chair slightly as she turned to face you, taking the letter from your hands with a subtle nod. Her fingers brushed yours briefly—a fleeting touch that carried more reassurance than words ever could.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft enough that only you could hear.

But the moment was short-lived.

“She’s still working for you?” a voice called from the far end of the table.

Your chest tightened.

The man who spoke leaned back in his chair, his tone dripping with disbelief. “How can someone in her condition handle the responsibilities you’ve given her?”

Another advisor chimed in, her voice quieter but no less cutting. “It does seem unwise. The demands of this role require someone—”

“Capable,” the first man interrupted. “Someone who isn’t constantly compromised.”

The words struck like a blade, each syllable carving into your carefully built armor.

Ambessa’s chair scraped against the floor as she stood, her movements deliberate and commanding.

“Enough,” she said, her voice sharp and unforgiving.

The room fell silent.

Ambessa’s gaze swept over the advisors like a storm about to break. Her presence was a force of nature, and for a moment, you pitied the fools who dared challenge her judgment.

“You will not question her competence,” she said, her tone cold enough to freeze fire. “Do any of you doubt my ability to judge who is fit for their role?”

No one dared respond.

“Let me make something very clear,” she continued, her voice like a blade. “Y/N has proven her worth time and time again. She is stronger and more useful than any of you could hope to be, and I will not tolerate such ignorance in my presence.”

Her words were a shield, protecting you from their scorn, but they couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes. You wanted to speak, to defend yourself, but the weight of their judgment was crushing.

Ambessa turned to you, her expression softening. “Go rest, little one,” she said gently.

You nodded, your throat too tight to form words. As you left the room, the rollator steady beneath your hands, you couldn’t shake the sting of their words.

Back in your quarters, the pain returned, not the physical ache in your joints, but the sharp, unrelenting sting of humiliation and self-doubt. You sank onto the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands.

The echoes of their voices replayed in your mind, each word a reminder of what you couldn’t do, of how the world saw you. No matter how hard you worked, no matter how much you gave, it was never enough.

You didn’t hear the door open, but you felt the mattress dip beside you. A familiar hand rested on your shoulder, warm and grounding.

“Little one,” Ambessa said softly.

You wiped at your eyes, turning away from her. “I’m fine,” you lied.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close until your head rested against her shoulder.

“They don’t understand,” she said after a moment. “They never will. But you don’t need their approval.”

“I just… I wanted to help,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I wanted to prove I could still do something right.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” she said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re more than enough. Don’t let them take that away from you.”

Her words wrapped around you like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of despair.

“I’m tired,” you admitted, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your chest. “I’m so tired, Ambessa.”

“I know,” she murmured, her voice full of quiet empathy. “But you don’t have to carry this alone. I’m here, I always will be.”

You whimpered a little, holding back tears as you sunk into her arms as she lied down on the bed with you, stroking the back of your head for comfort.

She stayed with you long into the night, her presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. When sleep finally came, it was with the comforting knowledge that no matter how heavy the world felt, Ambessa would always be there to share the burden.

A/N: I got a peace offering to write this, loving it.

[littlepaperboatyo]

so for me it's important to start with a better understanding of infinity, because we use that word a lot with space. infinity was a word invented before we understood how big math can get, and with math changing its meaning has changed. the purpose of as a word is to say "so big you can't even imagine," not "a number which has no end." when we mention there is no edge of the universe we are not wrong, but we also are not communicating well. we do not know of an edge, and there certainly is not a hard edge, but there is an end somewhere out there.

it's as though we are a single electron bouncing around our sun, the nucleas, in a cloud in the sky. what we are in is so big and we are so small and we cannot place where we are in it. clouds do not have edges, but they do have borders. and as we know the universe is expanding, things are becoming more spread out from their point of origin in the big bang.

as the universe gets too spread out and we approach the entropic heat death of the universe black holes will eat other black holes and get bigger and at the same time stronger, sucking all of existence back in. conveniently the universe will already be pretty cooked at this point so the black holes won't have much digesting to do. eventually they will have gathered everything, back into one spot as small as everything can possibly fit into, and it will be too much for any black hole to contain. and it will explode. and it will all begin again, new, but built with the same star stuff.

and it will happen again.

and again.

and again.

for infinity.

and there is an infinite amount of star stuff, and an infinite amount of empty space, and an infinite amount of time, and an infinite amount of ways the universe can happen. but there are smaller and larger infinities, because there are many numbers too large for us to possibly conceive of, and those are that with which the universe sings. but i choose to believe that the infinite amount of time is the biggest infinity. i choose to believe we have done this all before exactly like this, and many times more slightly different, and we will do it all again. and perhaps the universe is trying to understand something, and we are helping somehow that we do not know. and we will never know, and it will never know, because we are simply an electron blinking in and out of existence in a cloud, all on the outward breath.

Fellow science assholes and science enthusiast assholes: Hit me with your favorite wildly unguarded speculations about what conditions were like before the Big Bang. Bonus points if the crankery includes dubious math; we love reading about dubious math.

[acesofspadess]

Track Walk {2}

landoscar x content creator!reader

part 1

series summary: You were invited to the Miami GP for your Track Walk series on social media, what follows after you run into a certain Papaya boy, no one could prepare you for...

series warnings: cursing, angst, smut, making out, mentions of people you may not like, mmf, threesome/throuple, if there is more let me know... ;)

a/n: this a long 4 part series, but the chapters will be released daily!! also... there is no hate to anyone mention in this story, it is a work of fiction and any hate towards the characters/people will be deleted.

Singapore 2024

So here you were, the Singapore GP. The past 5 days were eventful to say the least. Your body was covered in love bites from each boy, there was no telling who gave which. Apparently the entire grid and the wags knew, which helped them cover up to the media. You walked in with Lando and Oscar, laughing at a stupid joke Lando said. To anyone besides the drivers, it was a very fun friend group, but you were sure it would stir something up. “Hello, hello, hello.” You waved with a large smile at the camera. “We don’t usually do evening walks do we? But Singapore is the beginning of the night races so get used to it…” The track walk and the weekend went just as planned. During that weekend you met Max Fewtrell for the first time. It was very scary for you. This was someone Lando had grown up with, someone he had chosen to be one of the important people in his life, and you knew how this could look to an outsider- an F1 creator dating not one, but two, of the most prized drivers in the sport. But you two immediately hit it off. “I just know Oscar is enjoying not being the only one having to handle his mess.” He laughed as you guys watched Free Practise. “It’s not even the mess though, Max, it’s the food!...”

The entire weekend was looking favorable for McLaren, and then when Lando kept his position into the first lap, you knew it was game over, another McLaren win was pending. And right you were. “Lando Norris can stop hearing about his starts, and start hearing about his finishes! For the third time Lando Norris takes the chequered flag…”

You bounced up and down with Max as Lando screamed into the radio. “That's a double podium finish for McLaren!” You screamed and he laughed with you before giving you a hug. “They’ll want to see you.” He told her and she shook her head. “Too much attention, they’ll see us after.” She said not wanting to leave Max behind.

The music thumps through the club you all decided to go to after you finished at the track, vibrating the floors as colorful lights flash across the crowded room. Lando, Oscar, and you move through the throng of people, your body already buzzing with the high of celebration. Lando’s win had electrified the night, and the three of you are ready to let loose—carefully.

Lando’s arm stays draped over your shoulder as you make your way to a private booth near the dance floor, Oscar trailing closely behind. 

Around the booth, the other drivers and their girlfriends are scattered—Carlos and Rebecca, Max who was running solo, Charles and Alexandra, Pierre and Kika—all laughing and cheering. The energy is high, but there’s an unspoken understanding between them. They know. “I would say cheers to Lando’s amazing race-” Carlos started, “but you only won because of her.” Lando and Oscar shook their heads as everyone around you laughed.

You laughed too, cheeks heating as Lando pulls you closer. "You’re not wrong," he teases, brushing a quick, casual kiss against your temple. It’s brief enough to pass as friendly, but the way your heart skips betrays its meaning. Oscar slides in on your other side, his hand finding your knee under the table and giving it a gentle squeeze, hidden by the dim lighting and shadows.

They’re subtle but deliberate, their touches igniting sparks that make your heart race. The conversation swirls around you, but the trio only has eyes for each other. When the music shifts to something slower and sultry, Lando tugs your hand. "Dance with me," he says, voice low and irresistible.

You follow him onto the dance floor, Oscar not far behind. Lando’s hands find your waist, pulling you against him as your bodies move in sync. Oscar presses in from behind, his chest warm against your back as his fingers brush your arm, sending a thrill down your spine. It’s intoxicating—the heat, the music, the feel of both their bodies surrounding you.

But you have to be careful. Lando shifts slightly, turning you just enough to keep you shielded from prying eyes, and Oscar’s touch drifts away whenever someone looks too closely. The tension grows with every near-miss, every stolen glance, and every lingering brush of fingertips.

Lando leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "You’re ours tonight," he murmurs, voice rough with desire. Your pulse quickens as Oscar’s lips skim your shoulder—quick, subtle, and hidden in the dim lights—adding to the heat coiling low in your stomach.

The three of you move as one, but always just discreet enough to keep your secret. The world blurs around you—flashing lights, the beat of the bass, laughter from your friends at the booth. None of it matters. All you can feel is the heat of their touches, the fire in their eyes, and the promise of what the rest of the night will hold.

f1gossipofficial

liked by user45 and others

f1gossipofficcial The papaya boys went out to celebrate last night with other drivers as well as their girlfriends, but pictures show the papaya boys very close with each other. This comes after a recent video McLaren uploaded where Oscar and Lando were seen holding hands at one point and being very touchy… 

user45 oh this is crazy

user67 how do papaya rules work now’

user18 they had a good time last night

user4 how about we stay out of there lives and not dissect and try to out people who clearly don’t want to be outed

user68 landoscar was too good to be fake

user49 i for sure thought one of themm was going to get with Y/N

user23 i thought it was Lando user90 i thought it was Oscar user62 am i crazy for saying both user23 user62 yes user49 user62yes user90 user62 yes

“This sucks.” Oscar said into her neck. They were at the airport saying goodbye because they wouldn’t see each other for another month. “I know, I’m sorry love.” You giggled softly at his dramatics. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, finger scratching the strands of hair at the top of his neck. You looked at Lando who watched the scene unfold. Oscar wasn’t much of a showy person, so seeing him show anything they never took for granted. 

“Osc, you okay?” Lando asked seeing his shoulders raise and then drop deeply. “I just feel so complete with her here, I don’t like when she isn’t.” He told his boyfriend who rubbed his back. He finally pulled off letting Lando hug you around your waist lifting you up. “Gonna miss you baby.” he said kissing your cheek knowing people were around. “I’ll miss you both so much. But we’ve done it before right? Osc you’ll see your family. Lan you’re going to Portugal with Max. We’ll al be so busy, it won’t feel like a month will it?”

Lando and Oscar nodded holding onto each other. You checked your RM watch, one the duo had gotten for you this previous weekend. “Time to go, babies.” you sighed. They scooped you into one big hug. “See you soon.” You kissed both of their cheeks before they walked off to their own gate, leaving you at yours. 

The month at home was supposed to be a time to recharge, but it only left you restless. Your days blurred together in a haze of casual errands, late-night shows, and constant texts from Lando and Oscar. The messages were frequent and full of love—updates about their time apart, teasing remarks, random photos, and sweet "miss you" notes despite the time zones. Even with their busy schedules, they made an effort to check in, and it always left you smiling.

Then came the post.

Your best friend stormed into your shared flat, phone clutched in hand. “Y/N, you need to see this,” she said, eyes wide with urgency. She handed you her phone, and your stomach dropped.

There, on a gossip page, was a photo of Lando and Magui faces and bodies very close to each other with big smiles on their face in company of Max and Pietra. The caption read: “Lando Norris spotted looking cozy with Magui and friends. This is after rumours of them earlier in the year were clouded over by new friend Y/n L/n and his teammate Oscar Piastri that Lando has been seen getting very flirty with...”

You froze, the phone trembling in your hands, the three of you already saw the airport photos of your group hug. It was what it was to you three though. “What the hell?” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Your mind flashed back to when Lando and Oscar had confessed something about Magui. They’d told you they’d once considered inviting her into their relationship, but something had always held them back. Then they’d met you, and everything changed. They knew immediately they wanted you.

You pushed the memory away, your chest tightening as you stared at the picture.

Without a second thought, you dialed them both. They picked up almost immediately, Lando’s voice warm and his face smiley. “Hey, baby,” he greeted.

Your throat constricted. “I’m not coming to the next GP,” you blurted.

There was a pause. “What? Y/N, what are you talking about? We planned this together.” Oscar cut in confusion on his face.

“I just can’t,” you said, your voice breaking and eyes filling with tears. You didn’t want to bring up the post, unsure if Oscar even knew.

“Wait, what's wrong?” Lando asked, concerned about lacing his tone as he saw your eyes fill.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself. “I’ll talk to you later.” You hung up before they could say more.

That night, your best friend held you as you cried, her arms wrapped tightly around you. “They don’t deserve you if they’re going to pull this shit,” she murmured. But her words only made you cry harder.

The next day, your phone erupted with notifications.

From Lando: "Baby, I swear it’s not what it looks like. Please call me." "I would never do this to you. You have to trust me. Nothing happened." "I’ll explain everything if you just call me. Please, Y/N."

From Oscar: "Y/N, I didn’t think this would get so out of hand. I’m sorry." "You mean everything to us. Don’t let this ruin us." "Please, let’s talk. I’ll tell you everything."

From Max Fewtrell: "Y/N, you know Lando wouldn’t do this to you. He’s losing his mind right now. Please talk to him."

From Alexandra: "Hey, I saw the post. Are you okay? Call me if you need to vent."

From Rebecca: "Y/N, this is so unfair to you. If you need to talk, I’m here."

You ignored them all, until finally, you caved and called Lando and Oscar. They answered on FaceTime, both looking worried.

“Nothing is happening with Magui,” Lando said quickly.

Oscar nodded. “We wouldn’t do that to you. You have to know that.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” You sighed aggravatedly. “If you knew she was going to be there why wouldn’t you say anything? Why would you get close with her again knowing someone's eyes are always on  you.

But then, Lando and Oscar got very silent, you could have thought the screen froze, and something passed between them. It was subtle, but enough to make your stomach churn. “What?” you pressed.

Oscar sighed. “I knew she’d be there. I thought it would be fine.”

Your chest tightened as Oscar's words hit you like a punch. "You knew?" you whispered, barely able to contain the hurt. "You knew she'd be there and didn’t say anything?"

Oscar hesitated, looking like he wasn’t sure how to answer. "I didn’t think it would be a big deal," he said quietly. "I thought it’d just be... fine."

"But it is a big deal!" you snapped, your voice rising, frustration bubbling over. "If you had just told me, I wouldn’t be upset. I could have handled it, but now it feels like you’re hiding something. Like you’re trying to have your cake and eat it too."

Lando’s voice cut through the tension, softer but still desperate. "Y/N, that’s not it. We didn’t want you to feel like this. We didn’t mean for it to look like we were hiding anything from you."

"You did hide it, Lando," you shot back, shaking your head. "You knew she was going to be there, and you didn’t tell me. It makes it seem like you wanted to keep me in the dark while keeping her close, like I’m some backup plan."

Oscar looked pained, and Lando seemed to be searching for the right words. "It’s not like that," Oscar said quickly, but there was an edge of panic in his voice. "I didn’t think this would happen. I thought it’d be fine."

"But it’s not fine," you responded, your voice cracking slightly as the weight of it all hit you. "You’ve betrayed my trust, Oscar. And Lando, you should’ve known better. If you had told me, we could have figured it out. But now? Now I feel like everything we shared was an act, something to keep you occupied while you figured your feelings out."

Lando opened his mouth, clearly struggling, so Oscar spoke up in a low voice. "Please, Y/N, we didn’t mean to hurt you. We just... didn’t think—"

"Exactly," you interrupted, your voice soft. "You didn’t think. If you had, we wouldn’t be here right now. I know it's only been a few months, but I thought our relationship was stronger than this. I thought I meant more to you than this, but you’ve shown me I don’t."

“No Y/N-”

With that, you ended the call, the sound of the FaceTime disconnecting echoing in your ears. You sat back on the couch, your heart aching, but you knew this was the only way to handle it. They had crossed a line, and now you had to protect yourself from the mess they had made.

Max Fewtrell texted shortly after: "Y/N, I know what it looks like, but I promise Lando wouldn’t do this to you. He’s doing his head in and acting erratically, please talk to him. He’s about to go into a race weekend." 

Hattie messaged, too.. “Oscar fucked up, but I’ve also never seen him this upset with himself. He is so sorry, I’ll never tell you what to do, but just know he really cares.

You ignored everyone.

Of course you watched the triple header, you were still their girlfriend, and before that you were their number 1 supporter. Track Walks were not as fun to you during that time, everything reminded you of what happened. They still texted you everyday, telling you about their day, about their thoughts on the race, saying they missed you and they were so sorry.

But Brazil was a disaster. The rain poured relentlessly, creating dangerous conditions on the track. Both Lando and Oscar struggled, and a red flag giving those who hadn’t had a pitstop a free one essentially knocked Lando out of the Drivers' Championship contention, but besides that, out of a win. Your heart ached watching it all unfold, tears falling down your face slowly, but you stayed silent, refusing to reach out.

A few days later, Max went live on stream with Lando. Lando sounded tired, wanting to stay muted when he didn't have to be heard, his voice hoarse. He admitted he’d been eating old food from months ago and wasn’t feeling well. Max F texted both you and Oscar after the stream: "Lando needs you. He’s not doing well at all."

Oscar replied immediately: "I’m on my way."

You stared at the message, conflicted. It wasn't until the next day when you were eating lunch that Oscar's text messages were blowing up your phone,

Osco: Baby, I know you don't want to talk to us, but Lando really isn't doing well.

Osco: I've spent all morning with him crying into my arms, degrading himself, it hurts so much to hear. He thinks everything is over, he needs you baby. I need you. 

Finally, you texted Alexandra and Rebecca, asking what you should do. 

Mes Amours 💗

You: Help…Oscar’s been texting me about Lando this morning. He said he spent the morning crying, degrading himself, and thinks everything’s over. I want to be there, but I’m so hurt. I don’t know what to do.

Alexandra: Wow… I knew things were rough for them, but that’s heavy. You’ve got to take care of yourself first though. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.

Rebecca: I get that, but… it won’t get better if you don’t talk to them. And, Y/N, I’m going to be honest here: Carlos is worried about Lando too. He told me Lando’s been completely off lately—barely eating, barely talking. He’s spiraling.

Alexandra: Wait, really? I mean, I knew they weren’t doing great in Brazil, but I didn’t think it was that bad.

Rebecca: It is. Carlos says he hasn’t been himself for weeks. And honestly, if Carlos is worried, you know it’s serious. Lando needs you, Y/N. Even if it’s just to talk. You don’t have to forgive them yet, but they need you right now.

You: I’ve missed them so much, it hurts. But I’m scared. What if I go back and things still don’t feel right? What if they don’t really understand how much they hurt me?

Rebecca: Then you tell them. You lay it all out there. But Y/N, we know how deeply you care for them, and it’s obvious they care about you too. I think they understand, they just need to see you in person.

Alexandra: Whatever you do, we are holding your hand.  Taking a deep breath, you texted Max Verstappen: Can I use your jet?

[beloveds-embrace]

hey this worm in my brain just told me a crazy scenario where duchess reader is reading a book in the bedroom with gaz feeding her grapes one by one and while he's feeding her she's at the part of the book where there's a scene of a character inserting their fingers to another character's mouth sensually, and bad good news is that she's ovulating and she (not so) accidentally dragged her lips a bit longer on gaz's fingers when he fed her a grape and-

i think this worm is saying some important info and i think u need to know about this

smooching that worm and its host <33

The gentle rustle of pages filled the warm, golden glow of the your chambers, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. You sat nestled in a mountain of pillows, a novel open in your lap, the silk of your nightgown brushing your legs. Your beloved Kyle sat beside you on the bed, feeding you grapes one by one, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as they pressed the sweet fruit to your lips.

You had grown so used to the comfortable intimacy of their presence that it never occurred to you how the simplest gestures could spiral into something far, far more tantalizing.

Kyle’s eyes followed the slow movement of your lips, mesmerized as they closed around the grape, your tongue brushing the pad of his finger in a way that made him inhale sharply. You didn’t notice his reaction- not at first. You were too engrossed in the book, your cheeks warm as the current scene unfolded: a stolen moment between lovers, where one character sensually slid their fingers into another’s mouth, the intimate act charged with forbidden tension, unable to tear their gazes away from one another even as drool trickling down the receiver’s chin, down and down to the valley of their throat.

The description sent warmth spreading through your belly, and without realizing it, your lips lingered on Kyle’s finger a beat too long when he fed you the next grape. His breath hitched audibly this time, and you froze, eyes widening as they flicked up to meet his. Realization came to you equally slow and fast.

“Duchess…” Kyle murmured, his voice low, rough around the edges, like gravel softened by rain. His eyes darkened, gaze heavy with something that made your pulse quicken. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

Your lips parted, and you stammered, “I-I’m not- ” But the denial died on your tongue as Kyle’s hand lingered near your face, his thumb grazing your lower lip. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver racing down your spine, pooling heat low in your abdomen.

The book slipped from your hands, forgotten.

Kyle tilted his head, his mouth curving into a slow, mischievous smile as he leaned closer. His scent- clean, woodsy, and undeniably masculine- filled your senses, and you instinctively leaned back into the pillows, though you didn’t shy away.

“You’ve been distracted all evening,” he murmured, a velvet murmur the caressed your body. “The content of that book has left you quite flustered. That’s unlike you, my Duchess.”

Your breath hitched as his hand, warm and steady, cupped your cheek. He brushed a stray lock of hair away, his fingers tracing your jawline before skimming down your throat. The touch left a trail of fire in its wake- and it coalesced in your belly, warm and demanding.

“I-I was just reading- ”

“Mm.” Kyle hummed, clearly unconvinced, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip again. “Reading something interesting, I’m guessing. Care to share?”

His voice was teasing, but his eyes were locked on yours, dark and unyielding. Your skin burned under his scrutiny, and your mouth moved without thinking.

“It… It was about… a man… and his fingers…”

Your voice trailed off, your face as warm as a furnace. Kyle’s smile turned wolfish, and his thumb pressed just slightly into your mouth, grazing your teeth with no opposition.

“His fingers, hm?” His voice dropped lower, the rasp sending a shiver through you. “And what was he doing with them, Duchess?”

You couldn’t answer. Words failed you as Kyle slowly, forcefully, pushed his thumb past your lips, testing the waters. Your tongue brushed against it instinctively, and the low groan that rumbled from his chest made your thighs clench. And then it was your turn to moan softly when he pinned your tongue down, the rest of his fingers cupping your jaw.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, smug. “You’ve been craving, haven’t you, wife?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, leaning in closer until his lips were a breath away from yours. His hand slipped lower, trailing down your neck, his thumb retreating only to be replaced by his mouth capturing yours in a searing kiss. You gasped against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that left you dizzy and breathless, and yet chasing the feeling again.

Kyle’s hands didn’t stay idle. One slid to your waist, pulling you closer, while the other found its way to your thigh, pushing the silk of your nightgown higher as his fingers caressed the bare skin beneath.

“You’ve been driving me mad,” he confessed against your lips, rough with restraint. “Every look, every smile, every touch… And now, this.”

His fingers gripped your thigh firmly, tugging you closer until you were straddling him, the novel long forgotten on the bed. His hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that left no doubt of his intentions, and the warmth between your legs grew unbearable.

“Kyle.” you whispered, your voice trembling but laced with want.

“Yes, my Duchess?” His lips trailed down your neck, sucking and biting gently at the sensitive skin, leaving behind little marks he knows he will obsess over later.

“I… I need you.”

The admission was all he needed. His hands slid to your hips, lifting you effortlessly as he guided you into his lap. The hardness pressing against you made you gasp, and he chuckled darkly, his lips brushing your ear.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised, molten honey and soft silks. “I’ll give you everything you need, and then some.”

You didn’t doubt him for a second.

[writella]

Daryl Dixon Kissing Daydreams— A little look inside Daryl’s memories of kissing his favorite person in the world.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader (no pronouns are used but there is one instance that I use the word princess), suggestive but overall, just some lovely sweetness! wc: 2k, slightly proofread— my apologies about any misspells, I just really want to get this out and get back to writing!!!

A/N: Let’s get back into things. ♡ I hope you’re all doing well. With love from writella. ♡

Daryl Dixon loves kissing.

He’d never admit it though— albeit that is a weird thing to admit out of nowhere— and he’s never said it out loud— albeit that is a weird thing to say out loud in most normal instances as well— but either way, he does. He really, really does.

Ironically, it’s his fifth favorite form of affection.

The first is acts of service. He doesn’t call it that though. He probably doesn’t even know the phrase. To him, it’s just being useful. Helping, or as he’d pronounce it, helpin’, or jus helpin’ awut.

This includes hunting to feed others, preparing food (even though he’s awful at it other than roasting things on a fire, so everyone agrees, just hunting), remembering things you like and getting them when and if he can find them, thoughtful gifts that remind him of you— basically any stones or trinkets he finds on his journeys, finding shelter if need be, keeping you safe and warm— even at the expense of himself, fixing things, taking the time to teaching you survival skills you want to learn, the sort.

The second is beating the shit out of people in his loved ones honor. Walkers, “Saviors,” men named Negan, basically, anyone out to kill you. He didn’t like seeing people hurt his friends, but he does enjoy when he gets to fuck people up in case it happens. To that, a subconscious part of Daryl’s brain says thank god there are no therapists in town; or, that they are either too scared to speak to him or have not gotten the chance to speak to him so he doesn’t have to reckon with the fact that his not-so-secret thirst for punching and shooting arrows at people might be just a little too high.

The third is listening. He didn’t know he was good at this until you told him. He doesn’t interrupt and he is not quick to judge, you had said, “or really you just know how to keep the mean things to yourself.” He smiled at that. He realized that yes, he is a silent judger, but he’s also pretty open-minded. He liked that about himself, and he found out because of you. It made him feel nice.

Also, if you were wondering, yes, you may have noticed that these three forms of affection can all be argued as kinds of acts of service, but again, Daryl doesn’t know phrases like that, and even if he did or if he was classifying any of his interests or skills, beating people up and shooting things with arrows would always be in its category.

The fourth is hugging– another one he wouldn’t admit out loud. He’d never say he needed a hug, but wouldn’t deny a friend one, and they became more meaningful to him after moments he’d thought he’d never see them again, or see you again. Hugs became incredibly important then. It made him realize that hugging was also the first form of intimate, physical touch that he ever felt comfortable with. He obviously didn’t grow up in an affectionate home, but he was at least used to getting a pat on the back from Meryl when he caught something good to eat, said something Meryl thought was funny, or did whatever Meryl told him to do “right the first time.” Seldomly though, if Meryl was in one of his good moods, he’d give Daryl an actual hug, one of those nice, brotherly ones. Maybe Meryl was laughing with his friends when saw Daryl, beckoning him over, hugging him by the side saying, “Hey little brother,” as he tussles Daryl’s hair; or at night, when Meryl stumbles in as a sleepy-go-lucky-drunk, lazily throwing his chest and arms around Daryl, telling him, “I love you.” He knew never to take it that seriously in those moments, but he did, he couldn’t help it even if he was good at making it look like he didn’t from the outside. The only other time Meryl would do or say that is when one or both of them got it from their dad. Nevermore did they feel closer, as if they were one half of the other, than in moments like those. Daryl felt almost bad for liking it. He used to have to earn affection, he realized. He’s almost ready to talk about it. With you. You give him so much so freely. He’s shocked and sometimes terrified by it. But your helping, your saving, your listening, your hugging– it made him feel ready to speak. It is what also helped him learn his last favorite form of affection, the one mentioned above and only saved for you, the fifth–

–kissing.

One of his favorite places to kiss you is by your fireplace. You two would sit on the rug and you’d ask him to drag the coffee table to where you sat. The two of you ate dinner there sometimes, near the fire on a cold winter evening, or you used it as a place to set down your drinks and whatever game you two were playing, or to use as a resting spot for your elbows as he listened to you talk for what felt like an enchanting forever.

He never tired of your voice as you spoke about your old favorite tv shows and movies and books that he had never watched or read, listening with no interruption– as he always does– or waiting for moments to ask you questions or follow-up questions about this character or that and you’d answer with as much as your memory recalled. You’d make yourself laugh with how silly and passionate you got over these things and he would smile softly, blue eyes glowing in the firelight because he liked hearing you speak, he liked everything you had to say.

It’s moments like this when your smiles catch one another’s and your eyes lock a few seconds longer than before because there is nothing else left to place your gaze on that Daryl places his hand on yours or on your leg and you know that means he wants you closer. His hand moves to your face and his thumb gently swipes and caresses your jaw and you both stay there for a moment, looking at each other. You move in slowly and you kiss him so soft and and tender and tentatively like a princess. His princess. The one who made everything so lovely and magical to what he thought of as his weird and jagged gremlin self.

Daryl gets excited during the times you decide to initiate. It makes him feel courageous when you’re courageous. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer, taking control as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You sigh, warmth and happiness surrounding you as you allow him to take control. Grabbing your head as gently as his rough hands would allow, he sets you on the rug, giving you pecks before looking down at you one last time, seeing the fire illuminate your face with red and orange— the colors of his heart and mind when he’s around you— and then, finally, places himself atop of you and goes back to kissing you. Once again, he slides his tongue in your mouth, wordlessly telling you how much he loves you and how much he loves this. His hands trail down from your waist to your neck as you grab his and play with his hair as you kiss into the night until your mouths are sore.

Daryl also remembers your first kiss. You were angry with him, or at least that’s what he thought. But it was more so frustration, a tinge of disappointment. You were falling for him, desperately so whether you wanted to admit it or not, but it’s so hard to fall for someone not willing to open their heart— you can only be so patient. So, uncharacteristically, at least when it came to him, you got in his face, you got loud, you told him how you felt. Not that you loved him, no, not yet. You told him he’s closed off, that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you wanted him to be honest, to be real, to just say how he felt anytime, all the time, whenever he wanted. You never took him as fearful, but still, thoughtlessly, as your faces almost touched, you asked, “What are you so afraid of, Daryl? It’s only me.”

And then, he kissed you. Because it’s not “only” you, it’s because of you. You were everything. So despite bubbling anxiety that rises in his throat, he did it, he put his lips to yours and did it accidently so much more harshly than he should have, but he did it. He was honest. He was real. Because even if he didn’t say it yet, he loved you too. You almost cried when it happened. Nothing ever felt that right. As he lets go, you have so much to say but you’re speechless. All you could do is take the chance he gave you— you kissed him back, again and again.

Another one of his favorite places to kiss is behind houses Kisses behind houses were for a quick session or during the moments he’d be leaving for a trip. Sometimes the things he had to do meant there was a possibility of him dying, and while there were times that you’d journey with him, there were other times when you were needed elsewhere whether at home or on a journey of your own. This meant goodbye kisses. Passionate but bittersweet.

These are the moments he wishes more than ever that fucked you— he means had sex with you– he’s a gentleman— the night before, just in case he didn’t come back. Most of the time he cannot even think about kids. This world is crazy, and he enjoyed his freedom far too much, but there were moments, like when he thought about how he couldn’t see life without you that he did wonder about legacy, about a domestic life with you, or, if he did die, to at least leave you with a piece of him and the love you build together. But then other times he thinks, fuck, no; he always comes back and he’d never want to leave you to do something as big as raise a child on your own– you liked your freedom too, and he liked being an uncle. Either way, it was a fleeting feeling anyhow, but it did make him feel like a gross guy sometimes. Not only because he had never spoken to you about the future yet and didn’t know what you want, but especially during the times where he thinks, damn, he should have turned you over onto your stomach last night, give you something you’d really remember him by, but truly, if one likes sex, these thoughts are that one has sometimes… no one can blame him, he’s just a 40-something-year old girl, after all.

Daryl also likes taking you into the woods for a hunt or taking you on his motorcycle to find a good place to kiss. He is obsessed with privacy. He wants to feel free to be himself. And even though he does feel like he can with the core group, the real him around them is not the same as when he is the real him around you– the one who is your boyfriend and partner, the him who can also be a romantic and sexual being when you two are alone. Almost no one knows him like that and he’s never been in a rush to share or talk about his experiences. He’s not like Rick, he feels, that kind of effortless shifting between roles Rick has about him, not afraid to be open, communicative, affectionate about different areas of his life with friends. In some ways he will always still feel new to all this romance stuff, therefore, he likes to keep it to himself. So yes, sometimes since the group thinks they all have the right to walk into each other’s houses whenever they feel like it— (Daryl is actually the main culprit of this since he has had free dinners and slept in most of their couches and basements than anyone else, but we wont talk about that now)—you have made out or had sex in quite a few different places.

Moving back to the sweeter stuff, Daryl also loves forehead kisses. Giving them and reviving them. But if he was receiving he only liked it when you two were alone. In fact, he likes any kissing only when you’re alone anyway, but especially so to any kissing or affection that look super domestic. Daryl doesn’t try to look cool, but he also doesn’t need the public to know he has more emotions and ways of nurturing that people in town don’t need to know of. He doesn’t consciously consider himself a mysterious person but, ever since most people started generally liking him and talking to him– which he equally found as both pretty nice and weird– he realized he covets the fact that there are still some people who were shy, confused, or on edge by his presence. He doesn’t totally get it and sometimes he’s confused by other people’s confusion but he likes that it means he has some sort of control. You think about how people treat him versus how he is with Rick or the kids in town, or you are hilarious. People think he’s the guy who gets it done or that he’s domineering or both, and he is those things, but he’s also just a massive teddy bear that likes caring for people while also not liking people. It's the most interesting paradox.

Lastly, here is Daryl’s favorite kiss. It was one you had given him. He said it. He finally told you. You had told him a story of how someone left you, how much it hurt, how hard it is to know you’ll never get to talk to them again, to settle things, to let go the proper way now that you’re in this new world. So, in return, to make you feel less alone and to finally get it out, he told you that sometimes Meryl only ever told him he loved him when he got hurt. He told you that it felt like Meryl picked the times that cared for him, cared for him like brother should and not just sidekick or accomplice, that it was those instances and others things that had happened to him in his past with his dad or with the group in the beginning of all of this, is what made him feel he was unlovable. So many other things came out after that and even through the shock, you could see everything he said happening to him, it made sense, and your heart broke for him.

This time, you move your hand to his, you beckon him closer. Your fingers trail down his face after placing a piece of his hair to the side, caressing his. You tell him, “I’ve never had a friend like you. I’ve never had a love like you. I love you all the time. You’re always worthy.” And with that, you seal your words with a kiss.

That was when he truly knew he liked kissing. He learned what it could actually mean and feel like when it happens with someone so perfect for you— the true peace and romance of it all. He had never experienced something more beautiful.

[luvleyshif4]

HEART TO HEART

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: bf!Rafe and gf!Reader moved in together, bf!Rafe helps gf!Reader when it’s her first time using a laptop..

Content: Close proximity, use of the word ‘baby’, moving in together, reader and Rafe are in a live-in relationship

Words: 1.19k words

Authors Note: heyyy so this is a small Drabble I made after I saw a cute reel of a couple. I feel like most my ideas come from reels or TikTok’s of couples😭 but it’s alright cause they always end up being so cute.. HOPE YALL LIKE IT💗💗

(PS I finally figured out how to get gradient text>_<)

Rafe and you had been together for a while now—long enough that the idea of moving in together didn’t feel like a leap but more like a natural progression of your love. You’d both talked about it endlessly, debating everything from rent to how much space you’d need for your things. It wasn’t practical, it wasn’t sensible, but neither of you cared. What mattered was that you couldn’t imagine life without the other. It was stupid, really, but you were both too in love to think about anything else.

It had been a whirlwind of decisions, and in the middle of it all, you had found yourself staring at the laptop you’d been saving for months to buy. It was your first real splurge. Every dollar you’d worked for, every late-night shift, had been towards this moment. You were excited, but you had been hesitant too. It was an investment, an expensive investment at that.

When you finally went to purchase the laptop, Rafe had insisted on helping you out. You tried to resist, explaining that you had saved up for this moment and that you wanted to do it on your own. But Rafe had insisted on paying for half, knowing you’d have to save for more important things soon. Though you were reluctant, you finally gave in, realizing he was right.

Unpacking the boxes in your new condo took longer than expected. Your place was still a bit empty, yet there was an excitement in the air that you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t much yet—just you sitting at the kitchen island, surrounded by scattered boxes. It was cozy in its own way, the space slowly starting to feel like home. You’d claimed the spot on the island chairs by the window overlooking the sea as your own because of the view. The large windows gave you a perfect view of the sea, making it a peaceful place to unwind and relax.

You sat on the chair, legs crossed, finally opening your new laptop. The smooth surface of the keyboard and the glow of the screen felt like a reward for all the hard work that had led to this moment. You clicked a few things, feeling the thrill of something new and shiny. Everything was good. But then, you hit a snag.

The cursor wouldn’t move in the way you wanted it to, and no matter how many times you tried, the issue remained.

You frowned at the screen, clicking at random, but the problem persisted. You leaned back slightly, pushing a hand through your hair as you stared at the screen.

You were determined not to ask for help, convinced that if you tried hard enough, you could figure this out. But the minutes dragged on, and you began to feel the frustration creeping in. It was one of those little things that seemed simple but just wouldn’t budge.

Rafe was across the room, setting up the TV in the living area. Your eyes briefly lingered on him—how focused he looked, how comfortable in his element. You let out a quiet sigh and glanced back at your laptop, trying to work out the problem on your own for a few more minutes. But your fingers hovered over the trackpad, unsure of what to do next.

You shifted in your stool, your patience wearing thin. You couldn’t let yourself keep wasting time on something that was so simple to solve, but you couldn’t quite figure it out. You sighed, calling out, “Rafe? Can you come over for a second?”

He turned from his spot in the living room and immediately walked over. He paused when he reached you, his voice gentle, a slight concern on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You didn’t look up, just pointed at the screen and said, “The cursor’s glitching. I’ve tried everything, but it won’t move right.”

Rafe leaned down slightly, standing beside you. His hand came to rest lightly on your back, rubbing gently. His attention flicked between you and the laptop, but his gaze lingered on you more than anything. He took in your expression—slightly exasperated, but with that familiar determination you always had when you got frustrated. He reached over to the laptop, clicking and adjusting, but his focus was still on you, his chest lightly brushing against your back.

He didn’t immediately lean over, instead standing beside you, his presence both comforting and distracting. You didn’t mind. You loved the warmth of his closeness. He was so gentle, so careful in how he made sure you felt supported.

He glanced at you, then back at the laptop. He hummed thoughtfully, then gently rubbed your back again. “Alright, let’s see…” he said softly, his tone light but assuring.

You didn’t bother turning the laptop toward him, neither did he. Rafe stepped closer, positioning himself behind you, and you could feel his presence envelop you completely. His hands, big and strong, slightly engulfed you, hovered over the laptop keyboard as he adjusted a few things.

You could barely focus on the screen anymore. The closeness of his body, the subtle warmth radiating off him, made it hard to concentrate. The way he moved, the way his breath brushed the skin on your neck—it was enough to make your heart skip a beat and make you smile.

Rafe, unaware of the effect he had on you, continued explaining, his voice low and steady. His hands worked expertly at the laptop, moving the cursor to where it needed to be. But your attention was elsewhere.

You didn’t realize it at first, but when Rafe paused and glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly, he realized that you weren’t listening to him. You weren’t even looking at the screen anymore. You were lost in the feeling of him being so close.

Rafe tilted his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips when he saw yours. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” he said softly, his voice teasing but warm.

You opened your eyes, the small smile grew on your lips when you look up at him. “Sorry..” you muttered, but the smile on your face told him you weren’t sorry at all.

Rafe chuckled softly and pressed a light kiss to your temple. His hand rubbed gently over your right upper arm, making your smile widen.

his hands shifted, his right hand moving over your chest to rest lightly on your left upper arm, his left hand still on the keyboard. His gentle touch was a reminder of how much he cared, and you couldn’t help but feel giddy having him so close.

You leaned back into him even more, your head tilting back to rest against his shoulder. Making him lean his head towards yours.

His left hand remained steady at the laptop, but the closeness between you made everything else seem distant. All you cared about was this moment.

Rafe was explaining the issue with the cursor in more detail once again, you focused on the words this time. You kept your hands in your lap, cross-legged on the stool, as you simply allowed yourself to bask in his presence.

[lavenders388]

Heyyy could you maybe write some nam-gyu(player 124) fluff like hes only nice to you and otherwise cold so he doesn’t seem week in front of the other players, there’s barely any nam-gyu fics😭😭

Thank youu💗💗

~Only For You~

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆ Nam-gyu x reader headcannons

requested 💌

a/n i LOVED this idea so much i thought i would do headcannons instead so i can write more little scenarios and get more into it:3

<3 throughout his past promoting clubs he would try and act cool/nonchalant sometimes in a rude way with his customers and/or employees, and he learned acting that way left people wanting to learn more about what he was promoting/respect him more and so it ended up becoming like his work attitude in order to make his club events more successful. he explains all of this to you in the beginning of your relationship, reassuring you its just for the money and he doesn't actually stand by anything he says or does and wouldn't ever. when you join him at his promoting nights he would refuse to act that way to you even if it was in front of someone super important:3

<3 going off of the first one, i think nam-gyu would prefer that you don't come with him to any clubs. first mostly because he doesn't believe that that type of environment is super safe for you and he doesn't want to risk you doing any substances/getting addicted to anything; and because he doesn't want you to see how he acts in front of the people he's trying to get business from. he thinks that you're better than the type of people he hangs around those nights as well as he just doesn't think you to deserve to have to see that side of him!

<3 he is super soft and kind to you in private, ever since he met you he started to prefer that side of him and dislike the feeling of having a fake, boisterous personality in order to gain the respect of people he's trying to sell club tickets to. he's a lot more introverted and kind when the two of you are in private and he really starts to prefer staying in with you over going out all night.

<3 one of his favorite things is coming home to you after working and being able to completely abandon his day and everything that came with it and just be himself and relax with you. he absolutely melts into you and loves the energy you give off. lets you know how much it means to him everyday!

<3 he uses substances a lot to uphold his extroverted, cool guy persona because he eventually gets exhausted of all of the late nights pretending to be someone he isn't and finds that using is really helpful even though he knows its not a good thing. this is also something he begins to want to stop doing when he meets you:)

<3 he really wants to stop his club promoting life for a more simple life with you where he can just be himself and not do so much overextending, but worries that he wont be able to find a job that pays as much as promoting does for him. he wants to be able to spoil you and doesn't think it would be right for him not be able to do that financially. he doesn't want you to have to work at all unless you want to, let alone be anywhere near the breadwinner of the household.

<3 he ends up going to the games after hearing the prize amount because he sees it as like a forced detox in a way; like he'll be away from any substances and he wont have to deal with any promoting stuff, and then hed have the opportunity to make a ton of money for you.

<3 you also get the card and want to join the games in order to pay off both of your debts and have a decent start at a new life together. you agree to do it together and use the winnings to pay everything off and buy a nice house and even start like a little coffee shop together or something:)

<3 during the games his persona becomes a lot more amplified because instead of doing it for his promoting he's doing it for a ton of money as well as for the both of your survivals. he also starts going through withdrawal from the stress of the games as well as if he had been using before he went there. this adds to his motivation to fit in at all costs when he sees what thanos has in his cross necklace. he doesn't like that you have to witness any of this but he likes that it ensures your safety being part of thanos's group. he makes it clear to thanos that you're with him for the games and nothing can change that.

<3 he reassures you that his behavior with thanos is nothing more than his need to win the games for the two of you, as well as ensuring your safety within a group. he lowkey makes fun of him with you in secret to make you feel better!!

<3 he compartmentalizes the other players as just people in his way of providing you the life you deserve; that them losing is just the two of you getting closer to winning and safely going home. the pills help him a lot with this; he knows that humanity and kindness might ruin his chance of winning for you, and showing mercy for the other players would result in thanos loosing respect for him. he knows that sticking with him will be of great assistance in winning, and he'll do anything to preserve that unless its something to you.

<3 if thanos starts to say something gross or mean to you or about you, nam-gyu shuts that shit DOWNNN! but in a very calculated way to not make him question their allyship. he'll say something like "lets respect the ladies." trying to sound joke-y but still meaning it.

<3 during mingle that man does not let go of you for a single second. even if it means not going with thanos he lets his demeanor fall a bit if it ensures you stay with him and make it through the game.

<3 when the fighting breaks out he does whatever it takes to protect you. especially after getting them pillz from thanos he purposely loses all sense of feeling bad for his actions because it just insures your safety even further. before he does it he reassures you its for your safety and because he wants to give you the life you deserve, and he means it when he says he'll do anything to give you that. "please just trust me baby, this all for you. for us." he says to you as he leads you to safety before lights out. "if you need me call for me and ill be here. i love you."

<3 when you get scared during the games and in moments like that he allows his demeanor to soften even if people are watching him. he wouldn't want the last thing you remember him doing to be him not being himself and being sweet to you. se-mi notices but thinks its sweet, especially because shes doing the same thing as him; faking it to thanos to be in his group.

<3 inside and outside of the games all he wants to do is protect and provide for you and he would do whatever it takes<3

[starbylers]

How much of “El” was actually in Will’s van speech, why this scene does NOT point to him letting Mike go, and what we actually know about Will's arc/Byler because of it

I know everyone jokes about the Will crying in the van shot so we sometimes forget how serious of a moment that was but like…..he was devastated. It’s always bothered me when people act as though this scene was about El in any genuine way, and that the message to take away is that Will is accepting Mike and El love each other and starting to move on. Both of these things couldn’t be further from the truth, they’re just convenient interpretations to fit a certain narrative.

In reality, Will assumed what El feels because he loves Mike, and that’s how he feels. There was no conversation between him & El, nothing Will ever witnessed, for him to determine that Mike "makes her feel like she’s better for being different”, that that helps her "fight". It’s what El wanted to feel from Mike, but she clearly didn’t (“You think I’m a monster too”). We never see Mike uplift her for her differences throughout the entire time they're dating, and then in s4 El gets a plot about feeling like she doesn't fit in (“I am different”) and actively lies to Mike about it ??? So...when exactly does Mike make her feel like she's "not a mistake at all"? El doesn't even feel safe giving him the opportunity, in fact she actively refuses to repeatedly: lying in her letters, asking Angela to lie to Mike at the rink, in their fight when he tries to understand & she tells him he doesn't. (And then when he tries in the monologue to use the sentiment “I love you for exactly who you are” etc.…she loses.)

And aside from that, explaining the painting and its meaning was the most blatant lie we see Will tell, and that’s all him. El didn't say all these wonderful things she loves about Mike, didn't create a gift inspired by something personal to Mike (DnD) to emphasise that message. Those were Will’s thoughts and feelings, unquestionably. There is nothing to suggest that El perceives Mike in that way ("the heart", "guiding the party, inspiring us", "without [you] we'd all fall apart"), that she understands Mike and knows exactly what to say to make him feel important, special and needed, that she loves him the way Will loves him (which just coincidentally happens to encompass exactly what Mike needs to hear to soothe his insecurities (“I’m just some random nerd” etc.)). And frankly even if we pretend El thinks the exact same things, Will was the one who did the work to make Mike happy. The idea that El should be able to coast on the efforts of someone else because "well she obviously feels the same way" (where ???) is kind of disturbing. Mike deserves better, and it makes no sense that the writers would narratively reward a love interest who put no effort into showing how much Mike is valued vs one who went above and beyond to make him feel loved.

That speech only applied to El insofar as Will sprinkles in "these past months she's been lost without you", "she's so different from other people", "we'd all fall apart, even El, especially El" and "if she was mean to you/seemed like she was pushing you away". Not because El said any of this, but because it's plausible for Will to come to these conclusions on his own and think he's correct (and even be partially correct). He knows El was doing awful in Lenora because she is different, he knows she's part of the group and has experienced Mike's leadership, he knows she fought with Mike and then left him. All of these things also affect him - he missed Mike's friendship while they were separated, he's different because of his sexuality, he's part of the group too, he "sabotaged" the day in Mike's eyes after not reaching out much and we know he's scared of losing Mike due to his feelings.

But the rest? "Of course she needs you Mike, she'll always need you", "You make her feel like she's not a mistake, like she's better for being different and that gives her the courage to fight", "if she [...] was pushing you away, it's just because she's scared of losing you" (I do think that one's partially true but Will wouldn't know beyond a guess), “if she was gonna lose you I think she’d want to get it over with quick", "El needs you and she always will” (and of course "El commissioned it" and the compliments he gives after)...who is Will to make those claims? He doesn't know how El feels, he didn't even know El was lying to Mike, she clearly doesn't confide in Will about her relationship. No, these things are all Will guessing/outright lying and letting his own feelings slip through. And just in general outside of Will, El hasn’t done/said anything elsewhere in the show to confirm that she feels any of this (in fact it was de-confirmed, in the case of the “better for being different” stuff).

Essentially, it’s all just Will's assumptions about El, some of which are based in reality and some of which are Will projecting. But most importantly, the reassurance and comfort he gives (the painting stuff) in response to Mike talking disparagingly about himself are Will and no-one else, and part of the most blatant lie he tells (“she told me what to draw [...] your coat of arms, it's a heart [...] without heart we'd fall apart”) is specifically what is called back to to push Mike into confessing!

Now, the idea of Will "accepting the reality" of Mike loving El is so ridiculously irrelevant. Will was heartbroken after he did what he did, this boy was literally sobbing out the window, but the whole reason he does is because he fully 100% believes Mike loves El. He knows, people! He spends the entire season giving Mike advice and pushing him towards her. Why would Will need to "accept" something he's been actively supporting before and during this scene? In his mind it's fully unrequited and he's operating within that reality in the most selfless, helpful, unobstructive way! He's not in denial, he has no hope.

What they really mean is he needs to move on and that this scene is somehow an indication that he is, but again, no: "[I] need you, and [I] always will" is Will's final projection before he cries his eyes out, and then later on we see him miserably staring at them again. The fact is, Will has accepted his "reality", that just didn't lead to him getting over Mike. No, it led to him sacrificing something he poured his heart into to save Mike’s relationship because he thinks that what will make Mike happy is to be with El, so he's making that happen. He is a bigger M!leven shipper than anyone. He still loves Mike, shows no signs of letting go, but he's just that selfless. And it's perfect, because no amount of knowing Mike loves El seems to change how much Will loves Mike. Incredibly inconvenient for a "plot" that relies on the gay character’s silly feelings magically disappearing out of reverence for a het couple and their deep soulmate love……

But this is why some people try to invent an imaginary arc where Will was somehow trying to get in the way of M!leven/had hope Mike could feel the same way, because otherwise you just get: Will likes Mike, knows it's hopeless, and then it randomly fizzles out lmao. Everyone knows that's not an arc; there's no change, no development, nothing learned. Plus, if Will is already in full acceptance of M!leven endgame…what’s next seaon's alleged rejection going to do/change? Nothing, Will’s feelings aren’t dependent on Mike reciprocating as has been shown, so the only purpose would be rubbing salt in the wound. And again, you end up with not an arc but a flat, depressing line. Will likes Mike, knows it's hopeless, has it painfully reaffirmed that yes it is hopeless, and then fizzle. If you know stories you know this makes zero sense, and therefore is not happening 👍

[ekingston]

Hello! So sorry to bother, but have you had any updates on the Word-Stream/Speechify situation?

Just one: like I posted on Xitter and Bluesky last night, as of yesterday afternoon, the links to individual works as they were listed on WordStream are gone from both Google and Bing. Hurray, right? Surely we’re all sick of this whole debacle and there’s far more important things to worry about. If all is well that ends well, surely there’s no need to still be angry.

Well, I am. Here’s why:

When I checked on Wednesday, the links to my own work on WordStream were still listed. So rather than it taking a week after Cliff Weitzman first hid the fanwork from view, it took a little over a week from the moment he first promised privately that they would be deleted. Which, fine. Perhaps Cliff didn’t really know what he was talking about when he gave that timeframe. Or maybe he told a little white lie to create the impression that he always intended to do the right thing. It seems more likely to me, though, that Cliff still believed—even after the backlash he received—that he would get away with honoring only individual takedown requests. Or worse, that he needed just a little bit more time with the stolen material to figure out an alternative way to profit off it—preferably without us noticing, this time.

But who knows? I certainly don’t! All we can do is speculate, because publicly, Cliff Weitzman has remained completely silent on his copyright infringements. All we got was the initial justifications he and his sockpuppet accounts used in comments on the original Reddit and Tumblr posts. After those were so understandably ill-received, Cliff only ever communicated with a few individual authors who contacted him directly and repeatedly, blocking people who addressed the issue on Twitter and quietly distancing himself from WordStream by deleting a blog he’d posted to Speechify.com dated December 20th—where Cliff promoted WordStream’s platform specifically to fanfiction readers. (See my enormous timeline post for details and screenshots of said posts before they were taken down.)

And this is why I’m still angry: As long as Cliff Weitzman faces no real consequences for his actions, he won’t see a need to own up to his mistake; and as long as he’s able to delay taking responsibility, this isn’t over. This didn’t end well.

After all, wasn’t this the next-best scenario for Cliff, second only to him turning WordStream into a (for him) effortless, infinite money-making machine? He took something we provided for free and fed it to AI so he could more easily put it behind a paywall; we found out and protested; Cliff quietly erased all evidence of his crime; and we went—almost equally quietly—away.

I want to make sure you know that I continue to be genuinely amazed and intensely grateful for how quickly the news about WordStream’s copyright infringement was shared—and continues to be shared—throughout fandom, on tumblr in particular. If it hadn’t been for our collective outcry here and on Reddit, WordStream would very likely still be up in its original form, and Weitzman would be reaping the benefits (those subscription prices were steep) today.

But it’s been frustrating to see that, with the exception of mentions in articles on Substack and Fansplaining (the latter of which is a particularly awesome and thorough read on fandom’s decontextualization) and a Fanlore listing, our outrage never really spilled out beyond the safely insulated, out-of-the-way spaces that are tumblr, a handful of subreddits and bluesky. And I believe that—unfortunately—we are collectively responsible for that part, as well.

Most of us seemed content to only spread the word by circulating the same two posts on tumblr. (Have we all given up completely on every other social media platform? Am I the only remaining straggler?) And soon after Cliff Weitzman hid WordStream’s fanfiction category from view, our interest in the issue took a sharp dive even there. Are we genuinely deceived into believing the issue has been fully resolved? Do we truly fail to realize that Weitzman’s refusal to admit that what he did was wrong left the door wide open for the next greed-driven tech bro to wander through? Or is the true naivety in thinking that, as a community, we can keep this kind of attack on fandom from happening again? Has our disillusionment already gotten that bad?

However the situation spins out from here, Cliff’s actions will set a precedent. If we fail to show Cliff and his ilk that attempts to profit off fandom’s unpaid labor have consequences, their tech companies will keep trying until something eventually sticks. They might be a little smarter about it next time; obscure their sources a bit better, maybe leave the titles and the authors’ names off. Or maybe they’ll go a bolder route: maybe next time they cross the line they’ll do it boldly enough for IP holders to take notice and stop tolerating fanwork entirely.

Doesn’t that make you angry, too?

There’s this whole other mess of thoughts I would love to be able to untangle about how commercial influence is contributing to the steady erosion of fandom’s foundations, but I’m tired, and other people have said it all much more eloquently than I ever could. Seriously, go read that article on Fansplaining. Or listen to the podcast version of it. Better yet, as long as you’re wearing your noise-canceling headphones, go listen to a podfic of one of your favorite fandoms’ works, and enjoy the collaborative joy and creativity of the people who Cliff Weitzman refuses to believe exist. (In one of Speechify’s other blogs, Cliff claims there are only 272 podfics on AO3. Would you like to run that ChatGPT prompt again, Cliff?). Honestly, much like Cliff Weitzman’s infuriating denial of the fact that fandom fucking has this covered, thank you very much, there’s so. Many. More. Things for us to talk about. There’s the connotations of WordStream’s dubious ‘upload’ button, for instance, or the fact that the app scraped (and in some cases, allegedly, still lists) copyright-protected original fiction as well, or WordStream’s complete lack of contact information, which is illegal for an internationally operating app. And oh! Has anyone reported more thoroughly on Cliff’s app’s options to ‘simplify’ or ‘modernize’ uploaded works, or—my own very favorite abomination—to translate them into something Cliff calls ‘Gen-Z Language’? Much like his atrocious AI book covers, it would be hilarious, if it didn’t make steam come out of my ears.

Anyway, there it is. I highly recommend you do all of that. And then, if you aren’t familiar with it already, go do some research re: fair use and your rights as the copyright owner of your works. A good number of people commenting on this controversy expressed stunned surprise or fearful hesitation about claiming any sort of ownership of their fanfiction. The more informed we are about our rights, the more willing we will be to defend them.

Please don’t stop writing or sharing your work. If you can’t bring yourself to work on your WIPs today (trust me, I get it), post about this situation instead. Tweets, skeets, whateverthefucks—about WordStream’s theft, about how this reflects on Speechify’s already shady business practices, about how Cliff’s actions and justifications have personally affected you. You’re welcome to share or copy my posts on these platforms, but since Cliff already blocked me, I very much prefer you post your own. If you do, call Cliff Weitzman by his full name and tag or include both WordStream and Speechify to ensure Weitzman will recognize he has both a personal as well as a professional stake in handling the situation with integrity. Leave your concerns in reviews on the Speechify app. (We weren’t provided with a more appropriate place to put them, after all!) Consider calling for a Speechify boycott until Cliff accepts accountability for his actions.

Do avoid making exaggerated claims, and don’t call for physical retaliation against Cliff’s person or his property. We don’t want to give him or Speechify even the weakest of grounds to claim defamation or threats of violence. Focus on the facts: they’re incriminating enough by themselves. Show Cliff that we’re determined to keep bringing up his company’s wrongdoings in public spaces until he demonstrates that he understands why taking these freely shared fanworks and monetizing them was wrong, and takes steps to ensure it won’t happen again.

One last thing—and this is really more of a general reminder—please stop suggesting I handle this situation for you. People have come to me asking for action items. The resulting flashbacks to my days as an office assistant were extremely upsetting. In all seriousness, casting me as some sort of coordinator or driving force behind this backlash actively hurts the cause. Not only does it downplay fandom’s collective efforts, it also makes our message extremely vulnerable. It would be all too easy for Cliff to silence one singular source. Wikipedia will not maintain mentions of this controversy as long as it leads only to Easter Kingston’s attempt to summarize what happened as it was happening. You only know my name because I stumbled upon WordStream’s theft and decided to get my friends involved. I am not more knowledgeable, more skilled or more angrily invested in this issue than you are (or can, or should, be). I draw pictures and I write stories and I worry about the shift I’m seeing in fandom after having been on this ride for even a few pre-livejournal rounds.

I’m not going to stop doing any of those things. But I am going to allow myself to step away for a bit, make my wife dinner, and catch up on our shows.

I trust you’ve got it from here.

[atangledfate]

Lanolin wasn't going to let the current situation get in the way of helping the people here at the infirmary. Especially with the short staff and, Getting some help would let Dawn take a break. She clearly needed it. She knew even she had limits and, even if she said she was fine she had a hunch that wasn't true.

" Then get in touch with them and see what can be worked out. I doubt altriss has time to stop caring for his patients to bother, but i'm sure Nurse Dawn can give you what ever you need. If we can get the civilians to safety then i'm willing to deal... there safety is more important then anything right now. "

Dawn gave Lanolin a nod as she eyed the old man, as she still didn't like him or his wife. but they did need help and the mouse had access to files, numbers, and anything else they might need. Plus she could keep an eye on the GUN soldiers and doctors that came in, just in case they were up to no good.

" I can give you what you need, Altriss is swamped right now... unlike me he can't just make copies of himself... he doesn't have time to stop but, i can cover it! guess i'll be earning that overtime pay... "

=============================================

Her carapace was cracked, it was the equivalent to a concussion for anyone else. But her shell acted as an extra layer of protection. It still hurt and made her feel dizzy and nauseated. Though she expected the worst from the Skunks, it seemed they just wanted to get out of this bad situation. Knowing Clutch he probably didn't give them any other choice. She just needed her world to stop spinning for half a second so she could move.

She opted to just relax but knew closing her eyes was probably a bad idea. She gingerly touched the crack and winced, but at least it wasn't to bad. With a bit of tape, and a bandage she was sure it would heal on its own. The real trouble here was just getting out of the rubble and somewhere safe.

" I had a feeling Clutch swindled you both... Vanilla told me she had a talk with you both. I didn't think it would be enough but ... she had faith in both of you "

She spoke in a softer tone, as she leaned against the one holding her to steady herself.

" I came to get you both out of that cell, before something bad happened. I guess i wasn't fast enough..."

She gave them both a glance and was coming to realize that they maybe weren't so bad. A Little rough around the edges, maybe they just needed a guiding hand and a chance to do the right thing. She'd see if that was true, if they meant what they said---and Vanilla seemed to think so.

" GUN has the place surrounded, isn't anywhere for you to run anymore. Isn't anywhere for any of us to run anymore... if we want to make it out of this Crisis... we need to work together. "

She sat herself up but had to lean against the skunk boy just to steady herself.

" So, How about you two just come work for me... until this is over, i'll consider you my personal body guards. I'm starting to think i could use a couple..."

Twist would keep his opinion on Lanolin's comment about G.U.N to himself as there were more important things. "My contact ain't that high up, though they should be high enough to convince letting us move out civilians. That said, they might ask your crew to help out with that so they may let some more in, though that's a guess." The lemur wasn't sure what policy's had changed since he was honorably discharged from his service due to his injury.

"Though they may want to talk to the head doctor to confirm the number of injured as well as being short of staff. As long as they don't mind being drawn away from their work for a minute or two." Twist knew it wasn't as simple as that as if someone was heavily injured then stopping for even a moment could be dangerous. Still, there is a possibility they'll want to talk to the head doctor.

===========================================================

Tumble was a bit surprised when Jewel just, gave up and let herself fall. The skunk was quick to catch her and it was clear she wasn't looking so hot. "I think she has a point bro. She clearly isn't looking so hot." He was holding the beetle has gently as he could, not wanting to make things worse if he could help it.

"Then we just have to be careful and find a med kit somewhere! I'm doing the best I can!" Rough shouted as he finished busting the hole open and made it into the sewer line. "Sorry for shouting, though we're already back in trouble. I swear, we try to go straight like Ms. Vanilla said, though Clutch just kept asking more and more," the skunk said as she slipped into the hole.

"I guess that's true," Tumble said as he walked over to the hole and gentle lower Jewel in first for Rough to carefully grab before jumping down himself. The two skunk brothers starting to walk down. "Yeah, Ms. Vanilla was very strict about that, though we did try. Clutch just wouldn't stop asking us for stuff." They tried to stay on the straight and narrow, though so much for that.

"Stupid opossum getting us into more trouble. Just when we were about to talk to start talking Mamá again and work things out." Rough would beat up Clutch if he could, though a guy like that was too well connected and had way too much security so what choice did they have. "All we did was sign up to be the mascots, not all of this."

[sabrinasopposite]

drinks or coffee?

college!charlie baker x photographer!reader

I'm feeling so good At a bad party We don't have to talk I know that you want me Gotta keep it nice We cannot be naughty We can get drinks Or we could get coffee

summary: y/n is stuck in this lame, boring and bad college party, yet she starts to find more reasons to stay there as she was talking to her crush, charlie baker.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her vintage camera, letting the weight of it steady her. She stood in the corner of the crowded apartment, where strings of fairy lights stretched across the ceiling, casting warm, uneven glows on the peeling walls. The party was alive, pulsing with music and laughter, but Y/N felt like she was outside looking in, a ghost in a room of vibrant, living people.

She raised her camera, the familiar click and hum of the focus grounding her. Through the lens, the world always made sense: fragmented, composed, controllable. She scanned the room, her eye catching on flashes of movement and laughter, on the way the light hit someone’s cheekbone just right. But when her camera landed on him, she froze.

Charlie Baker.

He was leaning against the worn-out bookshelf on the other side of the room, casually laughing at something one of his friends said. He had that effortless charisma Y/N couldn’t look away from.

His dark curls fell perfectly messy over his forehead, and his faded denim jacket looked like it had seen its fair share of oil changes and late-night drives. He was all sharp angles and soft smiles, an easy magnetism that made everyone around him feel seen.

Charlie wasn’t like the others on campus who dressed to impress or strutted their way into conversations. He was real, grounded in a way that felt rare. Y/N had heard bits and pieces about him—how he grew up in a big, chaotic family, how he used to be the star of the football team but decided to trade that life for working with his hands.

Word was he wanted to drop out of college altogether and become a car mechanic, though most people couldn’t understand why someone who looked like that wouldn’t want to be famous instead.

Through the lens, Y/N could admire him without fear. She could notice the little things: the way his hands moved when he talked, rough and calloused but deliberate, or the faint grease stains on his jacket cuffs. He had a habit of glancing down when he laughed, like he didn’t realize how captivating he was.

Her heart tugged, a quiet ache she wasn’t sure what to do with. She lowered the camera and sighed.

“Still hiding behind that thing?”

Her breath hitched. She turned to find Charlie standing beside her, a crooked grin on his face. How did he move so quietly?

“Still asking obvious questions?” she shot back, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Charlie chuckled, a low, warm sound that made the noise of the party blur into static. His smile was lopsided, like he wasn’t sure it belonged to him. “Touché,” he said. “So, what’s the verdict? Getting any good shots, or is this place a creative wasteland?”

Y/N shrugged, her pulse racing. “It’s... lively.”

“Diplomatic answer.” He tilted his head, studying her the way he might study a car engine that wouldn’t start, his brown eyes sharp and curious. “What are you really thinking?”

She tightened her grip on the camera strap. You’re making it impossible to think. Instead, she said, “I’m thinking that not every party needs to be immortalized.”

“Maybe not,” he said, leaning a little closer. “But I’m betting you’ve already found something worth keeping.”

Charlie was the kind of guy who could make anyone feel at ease. He had this way of giving people his full attention, like whatever they were saying was the most important thing in the world. Tonight, though, it felt like his focus was entirely on her, and Y/N didn’t know what to do with it.

He asked her about her photography, genuinely curious, and she found herself talking more than she expected—about her gallery submission, her love for capturing fleeting moments, how the camera helped her make sense of the world.

“You must have the patience of a saint,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Not really.” She smiled, feeling her cheeks heat. “I just know what I’m looking for.”

His gaze lingered on her, a beat too long. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I can see that.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped, and she quickly looked away, pretending to adjust her camera.

It wasn’t fair, the way Charlie existed. He was every bit the campus heartthrob, but there was nothing flashy about him. He didn’t chase attention—it just followed him, like moths to a flame. He continued to carry the conversation as he told her about his love for cars, how he’d spend hours in the garage back home with his dad, rebuilding engines and making junkers run like new. “It’s honest work,” he said, his voice tinged with longing. “There’s something satisfying about fixing something with your hands, you know?”

Y/N nodded, though she didn’t fully understand. What she did understand was the way his face lit up when he talked about it, like it was more than a job—it was who he was. She found herself noticing everything about him: the way his hair caught the light, the faint smudge of grease on his forearm, the way his voice softened when he talked about home. She wanted to capture it all, not with her camera, but just for herself.

As the party wound down, Charlie stayed, lingering in her orbit like a half-finished thought. Someone called him away, and she thought the moment was over. But later, as she stood on the balcony, trying to let the cold air clear her mind, he appeared again. “Thinking about calling it a night?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Maybe.”

He hesitated, then smiled, something shy in the curve of it. “I was thinking of getting coffee. You know, to detox from all... this.” He gestured vaguely toward the party behind them.

Her heart raced, but she shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

When she finally decided to leave, he was waiting by the door.

“Still up for coffee?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitated, a thousand thoughts colliding in her mind. But then she nodded. “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.”

They walked through the quiet streets, the tension between them humming like the low purr of an engine. At the café, under the golden glow of the lights, Charlie leaned forward, his hands wrapped around his cup.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I wasn’t really thinking about the party tonight. I was thinking about you.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her fingers tightening around her own cup.

“I’ve been seeing you in a different light,” he admitted. “And I don’t know if I’m reading this wrong, but...”

She met his gaze, the courage rising unbidden. “You’re not.”

His smile widened, slow and warm, and suddenly, the weight of unspoken words lifted. The night stretched ahead of them, full of possibility, and for the first time, Y/N felt like she didn’t need her camera to hold on to it.

🥡 taglist: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @collywobblvs @tvdelrey @angelsgalore @callicela @seulgi-burgundy

[our-ensemble]

haiii question,,,, sorry for being kinda dumb here but what would be the point of sending emails to hapiele? the story is written already and akatsuki redebuted (???) so what Will they do then? would they just take back the things that happened in the event? sorry again for the bother! i dont go to twt or social media that much so im lost,,,

Thank you for asking, and this isn't a dumb question at all. Of course, contacting HappyElements has been quite the undertaking, so it's only natural to want to know what we should expect. This is a bit lengthy since I wanted to put as much perspective as possible, and as always, I do not mind if others wish to add to this.

The most important thing to acknowledge is that this is an unprecedented scenario, so we're making estimates about how HappyElements will respond. At best, we hope that HappyElements complies with the requests made in the emails and nothing less, with these requests being a) the removal of Ibuki from AKATSUKI since this plays into the existing discrimination and Japanization of Ryukyuans and b) the careful consideration of how Indigenous characters are written going forward. Other additional goals may be added at individual discretion, but in relation to AKATSUKI and Ibuki, this is our main focus.

There is a chance that Enstars can edit or change the story. For example, in Izumi's event, "One Drop * A Specially Chosen Mad Party in UNDERLAND", fans raised concerns about how Izumi and Leo's backstory was mischaracterized in the story, and the line was later changed. However, when it comes to AKATSUKI and Ibuki, we should acknowledge that our concern is with the story as a whole, not a few lines, and so this is not likely. Should HappyElements decide to edit the story, they would likely be attempts to soften the blows that they dealt - but especially for a subject matter like this, it most certainly does not change the fact that the blow is still being dealt.

Another hope is that, even if it does not change AKATSUKI's event, it will push HappyElements to be more considerate in the future with regards to discrimination and characterization. We know that Enstars has been able to change its trajectory with how it approaches topics. For instance, Arashi's earliest stories contained both homophobic and transphobic stereotypes (specifically, she had many stereotypes associated with gay men, which is why the earliest translations of !-era stories tend to use he/him pronouns exclusively. At the time, her gender was not explained.) However, as years passed, the quality of her stories has noticeably improved, with a greater emphasis on her relationship with her gender. Hopefully, pressure from fans will encourage HappyElements to consider the racist, anti-Indigenous message that its pushing, and reevaluate how to approach Ibuki and other marginalized characters.

Some fans are also taking the angle of focusing on mischaracterization as a sort of "foot-in-the-door" technique. Again, as was the case with Izumi, if we can argue that certain things are out-of-character and that the continuous mischaracterization will be a threat to HappyElements' profits, then we might be able to use that momentum to target the racism in the story, since for AKATSUKI, the mischaracterization has been done to facilitate the discrimination that we see, and thus is not wholly separate from the issue. (Though on that note, fans have been asked to emphasize the treatment of Ibuki, since we must not treat occassional mischaracterization as comparable to active discrimination rooted in prejudices that continue to affect Ryukyuans in the present.)

At the same time, we must acknowledge that HappyElements has not made any efforts of note regarding other concerns raised by fans. Most relevantly, the event "Answer * Matrix of Stars Drawn Towards One Another" contains racist, anti-Indigenous sentiments in its depiction of the Amagi village. Instead of taking inspiration from Ainu culture as has been the case with the Amagis thus far, they made the Ainu village a sci-fi setting. Japanese imperialism has worked tirelessly to erase the culture of the Ainu in order to assimilate them. By making the Amagi village less culturally rooted and more fantastical, Enstars erases the presence of Ainu culture from their world - likely because it wasn't deemed interesting enough, since Enstars does value its shock factor - which is insensitive to the plight that the Ainu face to this day.

With all this in mind, we have to remind ourselves that this situation is still developing. The reaction to fans' emails has been mixed in the past, and the response to concerns of discrimination especially has been disappointing. Though, we also need to acknowledge that this is arguably the strongest, most concentrated reaction of the fans towards HappyElements, and we cannot allow them to intimidate us, nor can we allow them to forget that they are enabling dangerous anti-Ryukyuan sentiments that are not without real-life consequence.

Lastly, as I personally see it... even if "nothing" happens, I still ask that fans continue to pressure HappyElements. If HappyElements cannot treat marginalized people with respect, then at the minimum we should do the opposite and show marginalized fans that we stand with them. As I've mentioned time and time again, what we have seen in Enstars is reflective of real-life prejudices that are actively harming people. Even if HappyElements' mind does not change, other people observing the situation may reevaluate their own biases, and we can counteract whatever harms could occur as a result of HappyElements' lack of care.

[apeninastory]

ivan as a tragic-love character (pt.4c?) (nowhere edition)

Part 2 here. I RE-READ THIS A COUPLE OF TIMES BUT HONESTLY MY BRAIN IS SO FRIED I AM NOT SURE WHAT THIS POST CONTAINS. i may have exagerated and also forgotten something, but there is at least another post abt ivan waiting, soooo...

omg i feel like i could write a whole book abt ivan, i swear. i am finally where i wanted to be - the new song, the one that took over my brain and that i kinda want to listen to in repeat for the rest of my life.

and mind you - this is "Ivan Part 1". PART. 1. WTAF.

9] nowhere.

this is probably the moment nowhere is born. ivan's hypocris and dissonance gave birth to this - which may be why the lore of this CD tells us it was found by chance, stored in Anakt Lost and Found Center and recorded as sold by an unknown donor. that means, he probably composed, wrote and recorded nowhere back in anakt, before graduation - though i like the idea of ivan composing this after it, in the period of time he didn't see till, mizi and sua, a period where memories might have taken over his mind and made him nostalgic, restless.

[who is the unknown donor and why is it ivan himself?]

i feel like it is much more personal and raw than black sorrow, and since i am obsessed with ivan, i can't resists its call - it is now my favourite among all the alnst tracks.

the cover.

this is, like, the first step. where the tears start.

it is not our first time seeing little ivan from the slums-arc, but every time, it feels like a punch on the face. the little snaggletooth is there, he is dirty and wears worn out (lab?) clothes and his eyes are so so empty, i can barely stand looking at him without crying.

another important element: the small feet belonging to one of the kids - toes are missing. did those, dunno, froze and got removed? did adults/aliens remove them to torture the kid/make him incapable of running away/as a punishment of sort? no idea. as i said, i love the idea of ivan being born in an illegal factory for pet humans - it would fit so so well - born as a commodity from the very beginning.

like, how much more miserable do i want my baby to be? yes.

the title.

it's nowhere, but for the cover they went like "no, let's play something" and split it in now here. obvious question: why?

nowhere is undefined - it's a no-place, it means "not in or to any place; not anywhere". it might suggest ivan's lack of a sense of belonging, again, the insecurity that comes with not having a stable life - practically and emotionally.

now here is a bit more defined - here is a place, but where, exactly? and is it only a place or more a situation, a moment, a condition? probably both - like, "now i am here, doing this, being this, within this situation and that's it". the song should tell us more!

the lyrics.

and then the music starts.

In love with you When you were mine In love with you (reverse?) In love Love Love always You In love Love always

wow. just - mindblowing.

this is Ivan's solo, his own song, like hyuna's drunk & party and love & peace. the appearance of the world love is incredibly important, but i don't think it defines the theme of the whole song.

what it does is set the pov - this song is written/composed in a moment where ivan: already knows this word + thinks he knows what it means (and links it to till).

the fact that these verses sound radio-like, distant, as if ivan is listening to them instead of actively singing. it creates a gap between them and the rest of the song. it feels like he is composing the song in a moment when he already knows is love is doomed, so he rewinds back to his own origins and speaks abt himself. the song is written by a Ivan who already knows everything, so we can find traces of "future events" in verses of the song that are supposedly about the past.

these words also sound distorted - love is not sweet sounding and charming and light, like my clematis, nor it is energetic and hopeful like unknown until the end, with till wishing to know more and singing abt his resilience. no. in nowhere, love is raspy and numb and has darker hues - it is obsessive, haunting, just like how these verses resound for the entire song in the background.

they sound like a condemnation and a reminder: ivan loves, can't help but love, has no choice but to love, is condemned to love, chose actively to love. they also sound like he is drilling the word into the listener's head by repeating to it non-stop, in an obsessive cycle.

Nowhere, from beginning to end a stained history It freely chatters away That always happens to me

Key words: history, beginning to end. i already said many times, but ivan is a narrator. this is the starting point of ivan's story, ivan's realities, both the one he begins to write abt himself (or tries to) and the one from where we can glimpes at the real ivan. the lyrics might have started with "once upon a time there was a black-haired boy..." and get the same effect. he recounts a history (his own) that is real to him, that mirrors his life - but we can't totally believe him. let's keep this in mind!

we know this story ends in black, with an empty spot and blood (black soooorroooooow), but how does it start? this song has references to ivan's past and life at anakt, so it was probably written slighlty before graduation (since the CD was found in anakt warehouse and an unregistered track - how ivan recorded it is a mystery, but we know he has knowledge and priviledges other do not have). either that, or after graduation/before alien stage, and he somehow found a way to sneak the CD there.

that is probably why he writes "from beginning to end, a stained history": he remembers the beginning and is in a position where he can already predict the end of the story - stained, never pure, since the very start, as if his life was destined to be like that.

what abt the "freely chatters away" verse? i'm not sure, because how can someone's history chatter away? i think we can see it as "it freely chatters away from my mouth", like this story spills from ivan easily, like he can easily build lies for the sake of keeping this illusion, this mask he has, going. the expression apparently indicates someone speaking fluidly, in a relaxed way, but also rambling for a long time. it may suggest that, while from the outside ivan looks smooth and collected, from his point of view this is all rambling, it's the fictional-ivan he created for the sake of the society he lives in - a ivan he needs and uses and maybe resents.

"that always happens to me" reinforces the "beginning to end" part of the song - he is singing abt a common theme in his life in a dejected tone, resigned, like he knows/feels he can't do anything abt it and is okay with it. the stain is permanent and he is destined to "that".

Nowhere, rose-tinted rigid dream and hope It's stained with blood That's just how it is That always happens to me

this is where it gets super super interesting. if in the previous part ivan was warning us abt this being a story (his story and/or the story he is writing abt himself), we are now within ivan's narration.

ivan is still nowhere, but we have some coordinates: a "rigid dream and hope" dyed in rosy hues. he tells us about the existence of a dream immersed in a light, delicate color - the color of stereotypical love/affection (?), of beautiful things. also, this dream/hope is rigid, which is not very dream-like or hopeful.

contrasting images, how fitting for our living oxymoron!

a dream may be something that is commonly regarded as beautiful and ideal (a dream), but that for ivan is rigid - forced? unnatural? a dream he has to fit in in order to survive/blend in/function in the society he finds himself in, perhaps. i explained how other kids at anakt see him and how he makes himself friendlier and smilier. this may be it.

we could also make it abt romantic love. maybe ivan is trying to fit into a vision of love he can't fully embrace/mirror, so he perceives it as stiff. i hope i'm about to phrase it in the right way, but a nice example might be the contrast between mainstream and/or hetero depiction of love vs lgbt depiction of love. ivan being (canonically?) gay gives this idea even more credit - in a normal world, without aliens, surrounded by ways of loving ivan doesn't identify in, this sentence presents his discomfort abt not fitting in stereotypical love.

of course alnst!ivan doesn't have that benefit, but i think this discourse may work as some sort of parallelism: ivan can't love the way he sees other people love. take mizi and sua, for example. in ivan's eyes, they fit the "rose-tinted dream and hope", it is not "stiff" if he puts them in it, then he thinks about himself, abt how he loves (loves till) and it doesn't work anymore.

[we could associate it to till's depiction of love - the rosy hues of this dream are not to be intended as stereotypical, but as the ideal love till wants (sees in mizi) and ivan can't give - perhaps, but i'd like to focus on ivan]

"it's stained with blood", here we come to the stained history from before - stained with what? eh. ivan's life started with blood and ended with blood (his own), but also the blood of humanity, of the people he meets, also destined to a bloody end because of the world they live in. a rosy dream, a rosy hope, the blabbering wonders of a young mind end in red, in blood, and the contrast is as good as it is painful. what is the point of trying to fit in an illusion like that when he already knows what the end will be? that's why his story was stained from the beginning - the end was clear as day since ivan's first opened his eyes.

yeah. "that's just how it is", after all, from ivan's pov. he is resigned to it, so the illusion gives him no comfort, prevents him from fitting in. and again, it is something that always happens to him. what is it? not belonging. he is nowhere, in a story written by him that is stained since the beginning (his birth) to the end (his death), a story with no hope of redemption or finding better condition - a story where not even a dream can give him hope.

My sky, shaped by the world doesn't even let me stand under it I lay down and look at yesterday's daydream, all torn up

i love this part. okay.

"my sky" - the sky is something everyone has above their head. it's just there, no matter the planet. adding "my" kinda gives it something poetic abt it, as if the narrator is not reffering to the sky, but a particular something/someone that can be equated to the sky. while this is a possible interpretation

[again, the sky and the color teal resonate with each other, it is an interesting way of fitting till here, but it's not only that!]

we need to dig a bit more. how many skies did ivan see? the one in the slums - glimpses between rundown buildings -, the night sky before his auction, the fake baby blue at anakt, the red metor shower sky with till, the (fake?) one above the stage he died on. what do the have in common? all are concessions/creations given to him by others. adding "my" makes it interesting, because the sky is not something that can belong to a person, but we know ivan feels a connection with what the sky holds.

"shaped by the world" - that's why he added this. it is "his" sky in the measure which it was shaped by someone/something else. his birth, aliens, till, these are all entities that influenced the "sky" ivan claims as "his", as if to say "i can't have the whole thing because so many have taken it away from me/have limited the sky i could reach".

"doesn't even let me stand under it" - not only that, not only the slice of sky he can have is limited, his sky (this remaining slice) doesn't even accept him. how heart-breaking is this? because we know the sky isn't guilty - this is how ivan perceives himself. he feels rejected by people and by the world, as if it was saying to him that he shouldn't have been born. after all, if the sky does't let him stand under it, what place does ivan have left?

this speaks to me abt his authentic inability to belong. while i think we can say that it is not true that he is unwanted, it is not true that the world rejects him, i can sure understand why he sees himself like that - abandoned, ill threated, sold off, "unloved", used as a commodity. his view of himself, crooked as it is, is not baseles.

he can't have a physical place - so he creates his own reality.

saying "I lay down and look at yesterday's daydream, all torn up" makes me think abt little ivan, back on the ground, staring up the same way we would lay on grass and watch the clouds move.

"yesterday" - we can take it literally, so the day prior, of more figuratively, it may refer to the past. the story progresses: there was a time when ivan used to have dreams, maybe rose-tinted, maybe those same dreams he can't fit in now, and he regards them now as something from the past, from which he now distance himself

"daydream" - these were not unconscious dreams made at night, but dreams he conjured willingly, his own narrative, the story of the ivan he wanted to be all tangled in this song.

"all torn up" - like he knows better, now, than to abandon himself to them. they are all torn up, probably by the awareness that they are dreams, and that ivan can't fit in.

ivan is talking abt the attempt at dreaming he made when he was young, and abt his discovery/awareness that it doesn't work for him. let's think of the meteor shower event with till. by escaping with him, ivan tried to fit into till's dream (freedom), but failed. so he stares at this, at his "yesterday's daydreams", and replays them in his mind.

does this mean he stops dreaming? honestly, i don't think so. ivan is a hopeless romantic (not strictly related to love, but "of, characterized by, or suggestive of an idealized view of reality"), a drama queen, a narrator. part of the frustration this song suggest may be related to the fact that despite knowing it is useless, he can't help but doing it.

welcome to humanity, baby! human beings and their souls crave for art.

Fly far, far away Never, never again Come back to me Because it's easier to forget It's so typical Typical to me

although not explicitly said, it appears that here ivan is not talking to himself, seems to be referring to a "you". he doesn't have problems with mentioning himself in the lyrics (happens to me, my sky, I lay down), so it must mean something!

i am a bit torn, here, because it could still mean that he (present ivan) is speaking to little ivan. like he wants to chase away his vulnerable and inexperienced past self, so distant from the ivan he became and needs to be in order to live in relative peace until the end. "fly away from my mind, don't let me reminesh, don't let me remember, forgetting is easier, safer, as i am used to force myself to live survive in ignorance". he could also be asking him(self) to escape, at least within the dream - to go far, far away, in a safe place, so not to experience what he had.

but. in love with you, when you were mine. daydreams and hope and blood stains, a sky that doesn't want him... it feels like ivan isn't only at war with himself, but with a different stain, a different imprint, a different someone. the robotic voice is still there, in the background, like a reminder that this is not only about the ivan-self.

ivan is trying to get rid of something.

he is inviting that something to go away, or maybe chasing it away from him, to safety. imagine that something is a someone. imagine that someone is till. now take these words and make them abt till: "fly away from my mind, don't let me reminesh, don't let me remember, forgetting is easier, safer, as i am used to force myself to live survive in ignorance". what if he is telling till to go away becausse he doesn't want to hurt him with his words and behaviour anymore? what if he also doing it for himself? because if ivan doesn't think abt till, if he doesn't think abt the meteor shower, if he doesn't think about alien stage being the place where one of them will probably have to die, he can put all his efforts into his performance and win. we know he can - r3 ended with him making 90 points. till is good, but r6, absent-minded till? ivan could win. it's just that in the end, he can't.

i like both interpretation, because they both force ivan to face parts of himself he probably doesn't like or can't accept or even better, can't understand.

Wake up, wake up In my overwhelming daily life Is it for real? An existence like dust I can't stand to look at it Close my eyes And my mind

"wake up" - he is talking to himself now. as i said, i don't think adult ivan stops dreaming just because he can't abandon himself to his daydreams the way others do. the point his, waking up is like a slap in the face for him - his daily life is overwhelming: medical experimentations, lessons, alien stage awaiting him, songs to record, death, and what remains of him? "an existence like dust"

he can't stand the idea of keeping his eyes on it. he can't find refuge in the dream (so he turns off his mind), he can't find solace in reality (so he closes his eyes). are you starting to get why the song is called nowhere?

Worse and worse This painful wound I become more and more numb In the dark City lights I Can't find anyone Anyone Anyone

the "painful wound" can be a a trauma (his past, threatment at anakt, meteor shower) or simply a mix of everything - it can be his whole life, perceived as a festering wound he can't heal from, that makes him number and number to everything, both dream and reality. the darkness has lights, but no one in sight.

Nowhere, from beginning to end a stained history With that revolting tooth That always happens to me

the chorus repeats, but with a variant - "With that revolting tooth", the saggletooth we and the alien public all love.

hatred toward himself - ivan is incredibly critical of himself, but not in a neautral, objective way. he finds this detail of him "revolting", which is too strong a word and confirms that he cannot be objective when it comes to himself. baby, you are beautiful???? NOTHING is revolting abt you. what the hell.

it may be a reminder of something that happened to him in the slums, though. a trauma, a critica, tortures? i wish i knew!

Nowhere, seeped in purple rigid dream and hope It's stained with blood That's just how it is That always happens to me

his dream and hope take a different hue - purple. it is getting darker, if we think they were initially tinted in a rose-colour. it feels like his daydream is maturing, that there is a temporal shift, so while his first daydreams were rosy, growing up they became purplish. heading toward black?

That's just the kind of kid he is, so laugh Laugh, because he can't do anything No one cares about someone like him There's nowhere in the world for him to rest That's just how he is

another super interesting part. look at the change in subject: he.

i wrote abt ivan's dissonance, his splitting in two, the frustration he feels with himself. i also said he is trying to get rid of something, and it makes a lot of sense that that something is the side of himself he resents/can't understand/can't reason with.

notice how the way he sings this and the next part gets quicker, more raspy, less elegant. it feels like a punch in the face with how intense it is. ivan sounds resentful. not angry, maybe - his voice is soft, haunting, resigned for most of the song, but here? he is letting it all go. he is venting, releasing. "there is nothing to do, kid, things are bound to stay the way they were, the way they are, so just laugh and keep smiling because no one will ever care about you. don't even try, don't look for a place to be, this is how things are and no amount of dreams/efforts will change things up."

so. he is talking to himself. nowhere is a letter to his past self - little ivan, lost between the slums, his daydreams and the hope to be loved. his tone grows louder, more livelier for a moment, because he is feeling it all.

He's smooth, flexible, quite easy Just go past it like it doesn't bother you It's nothing, shake it off and stand tall Again, it's nothing, shake it off and stand tall Like nothing happened

and after talking to himself, he mentions till. i can't fit the English sentence here as something ivan tells himself/kid ivan, it is far from how he perceives himself. the sentence is also in English, so it's like he is highlighting the change in subject.

that's why he reminds himself "don't bother, don't think, ignore it all, forget that it all happened". what? the meteor shower. it comes back to that as a moment where not only till, the whole dream of ivan being able to fit in splits and falls apart - the starting point of the dissonance that will lead ivan to composing this song.

Wake up, wake up In my beautiful life Is it for real? An existence like dust I can't stand to look at it Close my eyes And my mind

the dream has collapsed, so back to reality - the reality he built for himself, where he can control things. this life is beautiful, but it is obviously a lie, because his existence is still like dust, and he still needs to keep eyes and mind closed.

the wound keeps festering - the reality he builds for himself is to have the illusion of a place to stay, but not a mind-numbing one. he knows he doesn't belong, doesn't pretend to find a place for himself, that's why the rest of the verses are the same. it's still him and he is still aware, but there is a disillusioned acceptance to his role.

Nowhere, from beginning to end A festering histerie With these cruel lips That always happens to me

this is also where the anger and loathing he feels toward himself most emerge, i think.

"festering" reminds us of the wound ivan lives with, the one that keeps hurting and keeps him numbed to the pain, but here it is linked to hysteria ("exaggerated or uncontrollable emotion or excitement"). so it really is something ivan feels he can't keep under control. perhaps, the process of putting all this darkness in a song was meant to be cathartic.

"with those cruel lips" makes me wanna scream. because even though i logically link this to ivan and to what he said abt himself in this comic, the song keeps presenting us with instances where we can link some verses to till instead - ivan has been cruel to him, from ivan's pov, but maybe, a part of ivan also blames till for cruelly ignoring him and his sorrow.

Nowhere, seeped in black rigid dream and hope It's stained with blood That's just how it is That always happens to me That always happens to me That always happens to me

"seeped in black"!!!!! darkness fell, ivan's heart is still once more, he is once again in control - resigned to his fate, or better, the fate he assigned himself.

"black" winks at black sorrow - and perhaps this is the moment ivan began to plan his willing demise.

this may also be why the cover says "now here": ivan is here, in pre-alien stage, with this song in his hands, with these memories freshly extracted from his mind, freshly recollected. he disposes of it all and goes back to the short life that remains him, the chaos in his head appeased, the confusion numbed, ready to head toward the black end.

° * °

ivan is presented with all these contrasts and complications and differences between what he would have wanted to be (his dream) and what his reality has to offer (till loving mizi, ivan loveless and unlovable, a death game with an inevitable ending).

i thought nothing hurt more than black sorrow, but this song is painfully ivan. it couldn't have gotten more personal than this, and it makes my heart ache so much.

this is the song the pictures ivan most perfectly. this is also the song ivan never wanted us, everyone, to find. the dissonance and hypocrisis in himself grew to a point that he probably needed to let it out - and what's the best way to do it for someone like ivan who seldom even feels like needing to let it all out? music. he has been studying it profoundly, knows it can be cathartic - has seen his friends, especially till, use music as a medium for emotions, both controlled and bottled up.

he composes and writes this to be abt himself - maybe abt his friends, maybe against the system -, but he does and narrates himself the way he sees himself, the ivan that he thinks he is. we know he is an unreliable narrator, and the song tells us exactly that: this is ivan, someone who can't be trusted when describing himself, so in a way, the unreliability is ivan's most accurate portrait.

he probably felt naked after recording this, so i have a strong feeling ivan himself disposed of it - that is why it was "found" in a warehouse - as the song is ivan's story, but also a cry against the system for making him like this and a love/hate letter, to till and to himself. he couldn't let anyone find it before his death, now, could he?

PART 4 coming soon?

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

Adding onto this, half of the frustration I think regarding the bi-generation is that it is so…. Limited in its consequences and that is classic poor RTD writing - the man’s always been afraid to break rules and open up the potential of a particular concept, often choosing to steer back to a fan indulgent, happy ending. This isn’t inherently a bad thing, but that is why RTD’s big lore choices are often not as criticised as Chibnall’s, because he does something small that doesn’t change the equilibrium of the show, ultimately.

I heartily believe Tentoo narratively speaking was actually a much more creative and skilful execution of bigeneration than the literal bigeneration was, probably because it was planned out for longer

Yes it really only served the purpose of giving Rose a fairytale ending, but that in itself is rather sweet and poetic, and the mechanics of it make a lot of sense I like the way the hand was brought back to make Tentoo I felt it was one of the few times RTD executed a story in a slightly Moffat-esque manner in that the lore mechanics were transparent even if the conclusion was still fan service

When it comes to The Timeless Child, it’s unpopular because it nukes all the important essence to the Doctor, the fact that he is an Everyman, he is not more important, yes because for the Old Guard it messes with their sense of continuity with the show and they don’t like that, but I think what bothers both sides is the fact that it’s never brought anywhere and never says anything more conclusive than: the Doctor was Special because they were the Start of Everything, it feels borderline Space Jesus-y (which we NEED to stop doing in Doctor Who I’m so over it 💀)

(Also I will acknowledge Flux made a fair attempt at making something more of the Timeless Child and the new potential it brings up in the Doctor’s past, I really enjoyed it, but it still resolves in a dull way and while plenty of conflict is shown for 13 none of it really goes anywhere or has a message to it. Her issues with her adopted “mother” figure could have been fleshed out, the people she used to be and can’t remember could have been written more clearly, but ultimately nothing is SAID with the conflicts there’s nothing conclusive and we don’t learn more about the Doctor or see growth)

This is Chibnall’s issue in a nutshell - he can’t write any sort of conclusion because I believe he really doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, he doesn’t have a clear intent going into a story so even if he sorts out his character writing and dialogue issues, the end result feels disappointing because it feels hollow. Because it IS hollow.

The Timeless Child could have been used to show a great deal of internal conflict with the Doctor, change the character properly in a way that matters, and yes while there’s attempts at showing conflict with 13 I can only attribute that to the strength of the episode writers through Flux and Jodie’s acting. It must be acknowledged that while there are substantial things to read into with Jodie’s Doctor - the fact that she’s so closed off, the fact that she’s constantly trying to be cheerful and never talks about the Timeless Child truths and how they affected her - are all Watsonian readings of the text. The main interesting conflict in 13 is that we consider her so tightly wound because she’s quiet and we deduce straight-laced, ignoring that we only make this of her because Chibnall forgets to write emotions and internal conflict for her. As a result, we are forced to analyse and use the absence of it as a building block for her character in a death of the author manner that has never been necessary for RTD or Moffat, who, though have made some rather big lore changes themselves, have always shown the emotional and practical consequences of it on the Doctor.

In comparison to both RTD and Chibnall, I present to you Moffat - the man who basically batted a lore changing concept every season he ran and I truly feel hit a home run every time

While we can debate over whether Moffat’s better at individual episodes or season long arcs (I would say the latter but primarily in relation to *character arcs*) what is crystal clear is that he is bold enough to introduce something new, and has enough intent to use it to say something substantial about the Doctor or really any other character - he is smart enough to actually break the lore and rebuild it.

The War Doctor is probably the easiest example to cite - a regeneration we never knew! We get insight into the Doctor’s extremely conflicted, extremely grey past, his actions in the Time War, we actually get a proper plot ABOUT the Time War in which we see the conclusion of it. We are changed for knowing about this, but not too much because he uses the conclusion, his classic “there’s always a way out”, to show the character’s growth, to show how he has been changed from 10 to 11, from War to 11, by his companions, to dare to say he won’t repeat his mistakes. Moffat could have shown the Doctors all standing together to destroy Gallifrey and the Daleks again, and there’s still meaning in the fact that they went with War to help him, the fact that they were no longer running away and taking responsibility, but we get the final Doctor (not that we know of it yet), Clara Oswald, demanding that they change things. Considering what she would later become, the other half of the Hybrid, we could almost view this scene then as a reminder of the importance of the companion to the Doctor but also as foreshadowing for Clara’s future - the most healed, most hopeful, most important Doctor who was holding onto the tenant of being the Doctor and reminding the others, almost I feel what 13 should have been to her Timeless Child selves.

Moffat skilfully used one of RTD’s own big lore points, Bad Wolf Girl, as the plot mechanism for how the Doctors are brought back together, while paralleling the story with that of the Zygon face off with UNIT, ultimately bringing us to still another imperfect conclusion - Gallifrey is there, but it needs to be found, unfrozen, the difference is… there’s time enough to save it. Yet this is still perfect because all of these different elements to the anniversary episode - the Zygon invasion, War being a regeneration, Gallifrey’s existence itself - are all utilised again and again for future episodes, hell Gallifrey feeds into another, if slightly less grand, lore shatter of the Hybrid.

RTD throws a net into the pond of the show to catch a specific fish

And Chibnall throws a stone into the pond of the show and forgets that he did it

But Moffat? Moffat throws a stone into the pond (heh) of the show and watches and takes note of every possible ripple.

Bigeneration is just as lore-changing as the Timeless Child. And yet no one shits on it because their precious RTD wrote it. If Chibnall did something like this, y'all would have your pitchforks at the ready. The double standards in this fandom, I swear. RTD is allowed to retcon Doctor Who, but heavens forbid Chibnall even try.

The Doctor is no longer even a parent because of him. David Tennant is a good actor, but I'm tired of people pretending like he's the face of Doctor Who. The whole point of the show is that the Doctor has different faces, and we should love them all—not regress backwards.

We deserved to see the Fourteenth Doctor in Thirteenth's clothes, and not for everything she is to burn up and die. The Fifteenth Doctor deserved his own regeneration scene like every other Doctor, without Fourteenth randomly sticking around because of RTD's inability to let go of the characters he wrote.

At least the Timeless Child added something more to the Doctor's story. Bigeneration took something away: the emotional impact of the Doctor's regeneration - having to say goodbye.

[silverbeamcreations]

When Duty Summons

A DP x DC fanfic by Silverbeam creations aka lunarmushroom on AO3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

AUTHOR NOTE:

I'm new to tumblr and new to fanfic writing styles, so comments, hearts, theories, ideas etc, are helpful in my motivation to write more, and I super appreciate it. Any tips for how tumblr works and any fandom and writing tips are welcome as well. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!

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Part 4

"peek a booooo?" murmered Danny quietly as he popped his head through another wall. DAnnys fingers tapped along the wall as he gave the room a look around. empty rusted barrels lay along one wall amidst the dust, trash, and other refuse of the abandoned building. At the obvious lack of life signs danny continued grumbling. 15 minutes into chasing down the summoning spell, all signs had vanished. Once gone he had spent the next couple hours searching the estimated area he guessed was likely a good start and then had expaneded his earch.

score 3 crack heads, 1 elderly homeless man that must have been near deaths door as he seems to sense him even though invisible along with a half dozen rats and vermin and he had come up with squat. Hed taken a break to refocus his approach and refuel. While he made a quick pb and j...a quintiple layer monstrosity for max ghost energy, he couldn't shake the flash of ghost energy he felt before the signal had dissapeared. Such an intense rage, lined with pain and perhaps deep within it a coal of fear, sparking the flames of rage. It nagged at him picking at his core.

He reached over, rolling on his bed to fumble for his phone, sandwich half eaten as he opened a familiar group chat.

Dan da dan man: sooooo little fun fact for today. You know those summoning pings Ive been getting all week? Before they were like nudges but this morning seems like they managed to get the right combo buttons as it almost pulled me in, but I have that important english paper and aint nobody got time for that. So I just said like...No? and it kinda worked except .....

Sam a Lamb sauce: Danny. WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?

Tuck Nugget: Do I need to make popcorn or prep the guns?

Sama a Lamb sauce: You don't have any guns after the last ditch and run Tucker.

Tuck Nugget: Hey baby no one can dis-ARM me of these sexies...

(Attached photo of a blurry bicep)

Dan da dan man: lol Nice one Tuck

Sam a Lamb sauce: Tucker I swear at the ancients if you start another pun war I will mail you some of my new snap dragon flowers to eat all your socks.

Tuck Nugget: Jokes on you, I gave up socks for scandalating ankles in crocs!

Sam a Lamb Sauce: Ignoring that...Danny please continue telling us what trouble you have gotten into now?

Da dan dan man: yeah that... well when I managed to slap the summons away it kinda latched onto another ghost instead?

Tuck nugget: Daaaaannnnnyyyyyy noooo....

Sam a Lamb Sauce: Can we just ignore it please?

Dan da dan man: Its just that, when I chased after it, there was this like cry? It keeps nagging at my core... It was full of intense anger but I think at the base it was covering fear and well...

Sam a lamb sauce: Your obsessions not gonna let that one go...alright what can we do to help?

Tuck Nugget: Once a hero always a hero.

Dan da dan man: well the thing is the signal disapeared and I searched like sooo many blocks full of buildings and while im gonna go back out and search more, I thought a little reearch of the area might speed things up.

Sama a lamb sauce: Deep dive into gotham cults and wacko groups. What fun.

Tuck Nugget: Im sure the Local night bats have quite the library of loony death summoning groups to purview...

Sam a Lamb Sauce: oh no you cannot go hacking the batman computer again. I do not want them on our radar.

Dan da dan man: But... they prbably have the most up to date info then what the general web would have. Im sure it will be fine,Tuckers got 1337 skillz.

Tuck nugger: (thumbs up <3 <3 <3 emoji)

Sam a Lamb Sauce: famous last words.

Dan da dan man: Im gonna head out again see if I can comb a few more blocks.

Tuck nugget: RIP your english grade

Sam a Lamb Sauce: Let's hope it's just his english this time.