#maybe I should. do some actual ones later

[shybluebirdninja]

The Great Outdoors

Summary: Logan takes you on a camping trip, but his survival skills are hilariously outdated. Between using a rock instead of a proper camping tool and attempting to start a fire with his claws (which ends up in a mini bonfire), you can’t stop laughing. Eventually, you both end up cuddled in the tent, sharing ghost stories that lead to goofy scares and unexpected confessions of affection.

Pairing             : Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Female!Human-reader

Genre              : Fluff

The sun was already dipping low behind the trees when Logan parked the truck. He got out like he was about to conquer the wild, while you stood there, looking at the woods and trying not to laugh at the seriousness on his face. Logan wasn’t the camping type—or at least, not the “modern” kind. He was more like the “rough it with nothing but your fists and claws” type.

This was going to be interesting.

“So, what’s the plan, Bear Grylls?” you teased, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

Logan grunted, pulling out a rolled-up tent from the back of the truck. “Survive. That’s the plan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow, so detailed. I feel so prepared.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve done this a hundred times. Just follow my lead, and we’ll be fine.”

Oh, boy.

You made your way into the clearing Logan had apparently scoped out beforehand. It wasn’t bad, actually—nice little spot near a river, surrounded by trees that rustled softly in the evening breeze. As soon as you set your stuff down, Logan got to work... sort of.

He started with the tent. You watched him as he unfolded it, frowning like the damn thing had personally offended him. “These damn things get more complicated every year,” he muttered, trying to shove a pole into one of the sleeves.

“Need some help?” you asked, biting your lip to keep from laughing as he wrestled with it.

“Nah, I got it,” he grumbled, jamming the pole so hard it almost snapped.

Five minutes later, the tent was half-collapsed, one corner flapping in the wind, and Logan was cursing under his breath.

“I think it’s supposed to stand up, Logan.”

He shot you a look, then glanced back at the tent. “It’s fine. I’m just, uh... testing its durability.”

You let out a snort, shaking your head. “Right. Maybe you should just let me handle that.”

“I’m a grown-ass man,” he muttered, glaring at the tent like it had insulted his mother.

“Yeah, and you’re losing a fight to a piece of nylon.”

After another moment of watching him struggle, you stepped in and started putting the thing together while Logan, not exactly one for sitting still, decided to gather firewood. He disappeared into the woods with nothing but his claws, because why bring a hatchet when you’re Logan?

By the time he came back, arms full of sticks and logs, the tent was up and looking perfect. You leaned against it, smirking as he dropped the wood into a pile.

“See?” you said, gesturing to the tent. “That’s how it’s done.”

Logan grunted, clearly not impressed. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see you start a fire.”

You crossed your arms. “Watch and learn, old man.”

He grinned, that dangerous little glint in his eye. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Logan, being Logan, didn’t just gather some twigs and light them with a match like a normal person. No, that would’ve been too easy. Instead, he pulled out his claws and crouched next to the fire pit, sparks flying as he struck them against a rock.

“Logan, that’s not how—”

Whoosh!

The pile of wood lit up like someone had dumped gasoline on it. Flames shot up higher than you thought possible, and you stumbled back, laughing your ass off while Logan jumped up, cursing.

“Goddammit!” He swiped his claws through the air, trying to beat the flames down. “I meant to do that.”

“Oh, sure,” you choked out between laughs, wiping at your eyes. “That’s the perfect height for roasting marshmallows, right?”

Logan glared at the mini-bonfire for a second, then at you. “Next time, you can light the damn thing.”

You couldn’t stop laughing, the sound of it bouncing around the trees. Logan finally cracked a smile, though he tried to hide it behind a gruff mutter.

After some careful maneuvering (read: Logan finally letting you fix the fire), you both settled down for the evening. The fire was low, crackling softly, the night air cool around you. Stars were starting to peek through the darkening sky, and the only sounds were the soft hum of the forest and Logan chewing on beef jerky.

You leaned back against a log, holding your hands out to the fire. “So, what now? Gonna show me your impressive ghost story collection?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, gnawing on his jerky like a wild animal. “Ghost stories? What are we, twelve?”

“Come on,” you teased. “Everyone knows camping isn’t complete without ghost stories. It’s like... the law.”

He scoffed but leaned back, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “Alright. You want a ghost story? I’ll give you one.”

“Oh, this oughta be good.”

Logan cleared his throat dramatically. “So... once upon a time... there was this girl. Thought she was real tough. Real smart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is this about me?”

“Shhh, I’m tellin’ a story here,” Logan said, smirking. “Anyway, she thought she could survive out in the wild with just a little ol’ tent and her wit. But one night, she heard a rustling in the trees... something... watching her.”

You leaned in, playing along, even though you knew exactly where this was going. “Oh, yeah? What was it?”

Logan’s eyes widened theatrically. “A bear! Big, ugly thing. Twice her size. It came into her camp, sniffin’ around, and you know what she did?”

You shook your head, grinning. “What?”

“Nothing. She just froze. The bear ate all her snacks, tore up her tent, and left her sittin’ there in her own piss.”

You burst out laughing. “Wow, Logan. Truly terrifying. 10/10. I’m gonna have nightmares for weeks.”

Logan grinned, leaning closer. “I got more. You’ll be beggin’ for mercy by the end of the night.”

You pushed his shoulder lightly. “You’re such an ass.”

As the night deepened and the fire began to die down, you both retreated into the tent. It was surprisingly cozy inside, the faint warmth of the fire lingering outside while you snuggled into your sleeping bag. Logan stretched out beside you, his body taking up way too much space, but you didn’t mind.

“Comfy?” you asked, glancing at him as he wiggled around.

“Like a fuckin’ sardine,” he muttered, trying to adjust in the small space. “Who the hell makes these tents so damn small?”

“They’re meant for normal-sized people, not... whatever the hell you are,” you said with a smirk.

Logan snorted. “Mutant privilege. I need bigger accommodations.”

You both lay there for a few minutes, the quiet settling in around you. Logan’s breathing was steady, his body warm next to yours, and despite his earlier grumblings, you could tell he was content. This whole camping thing wasn’t so bad, after all.

“Alright,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “I’ve got a ghost story.”

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, so you went on.

“There’s this guy, right? Big, tough, hairy—like, really hairy. The kinda guy you wouldn’t wanna meet in a dark alley.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but you kept going.

“And one night, he decides to go camping with this totally amazing girl—smart, funny, great taste in camping snacks—”

“Wow, I wonder who this is about,” Logan deadpanned.

“Shhh,” you said, stifling a laugh. “But the thing is... the guy? He’s got a secret. See, he acts all tough, like nothing scares him, but deep down? He’s terrified of one thing.”

Logan looked over at you, eyes narrowing. “What?”

You grinned, leaning in close. “Commitment.”

Logan blinked, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re full of shit, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling. “But you know I’m right.”

He didn’t deny it, just stretched out a hand to pull you closer, his arm wrapping around you with an ease that made your heart flutter a little too fast.

“I’m scared of plenty of things,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “Just not the same kinda things as you.”

“Like what?” you asked, curious now.

Logan looked at you, his eyes serious for once. “Losing people. People I care about. That’s what scares me.”

The confession was quiet, unexpected, and it hit harder than you’d thought. You swallowed, unsure of what to say, but Logan just shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, pulling you in tighter.

“Guess that makes you a real badass,” you whispered after a moment, your voice barely breaking the stillness of the tent.

“Damn right,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now shut up and go to sleep before I start tellin’ real scary stories.”

You smiled against his chest, warmth spreading through you as the sound of the river and the soft crackling of the dying fire lulled you to sleep. And maybe, just maybe, you’d both survived the great outdoors after all.

[inkspiredwriting]

A Strand of Silver

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Y/n Hargreeves was having one of those mornings. You know the type: spilled coffee, mismatched socks, and the eternal struggle to find her keys. As she rushed into the bathroom to get ready for the day, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Normally, she didn’t scrutinize her reflection too much, but today, something shiny caught her eye.

“Wait, what?” Y/n muttered, leaning closer to the mirror.

There, in the midst of her hair, was a single, unmistakable strand of silver. She plucked it out and held it up to the light, squinting at it as if it were some foreign object.

“Oh, no,” she groaned, her voice tinged with melodrama. “I’m turning into my mother!”

Just as Y/n was contemplating her impending transformation into a full-fledged silver fox, Five Hargreeves walked into the bathroom, his shirt half-tucked and his tie in a state of disarray.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he asked, eyebrow arched in amusement.

Y/n turned to him, holding up the gray hair as if it were evidence of a crime. “Look at this!” she said, her tone a mix of shock and horror. “Gray hair! I’m only 35!”

Five peered at the hair, then back at Y/n, a smirk spreading across his face. “Welcome to the club, darling. Want me to dye mine gray so we can match?”

Y/n glared at him, though her lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “It’s not funny, Five. I thought I had more time before this started happening.”

Five leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Oh, it’s hilarious. You’re acting like this is the end of the world.”

Y/n huffed, tossing the gray hair into the sink. “You’re supposed to be supportive, not laugh at me.”

Five’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “I am supportive. I support the fact that you’re still gorgeous, gray hair and all.”

Their playful banter was interrupted by a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by a muffled “Sorry!” Y/n sighed, recognizing the chaos as her brother-in-law Klaus’s doing.

“Maybe I should just let my hair go completely gray,” she muttered, “and scare the life out of Klaus.”

Five laughed, stepping closer to her. “Klaus would probably think it’s cool and start a new trend.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but laugh, too. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Five wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. “Listen, I love you, gray hair and all. Actually, it’s kind of sexy. Makes you look distinguished.”

Y/n snorted, leaning into him. “You’re such a liar.”

“Nope, just a man with great taste,” Five replied, kissing the top of her head.

As they headed into the kitchen to see what chaos awaited them, Y/n tried to push the gray hair out of her mind. It was just one strand, after all. How bad could it be?

Klaus, Luther, and Diego were in the middle of a heated debate over who had the best waffle recipe when Five and Y/n entered the kitchen. Luther was holding a spatula like a weapon, and Klaus was dramatically waving a bottle of syrup around.

“Hey, guys,” Y/n said, trying to sound casual. “Do you think gray hair makes me look older?”

The room went silent as all eyes turned to her. Luther looked thoughtful, Diego just shrugged, and Klaus... well, Klaus being Klaus, decided to take it to the next level.

“Oh, honey,” Klaus said, rushing over to examine Y/n’s hair, “I think it makes you look even more fabulous. Very... royal. Like a queen!”

“Like the Queen of England,” Diego added with a smirk, earning a punch on the arm from Luther.

Five burst out laughing, shaking his head. “You see, Y/n? Nothing to worry about. You’ve got the whole royal approval right here.”

Y/n shook her head, trying not to laugh. “I’m going to regret asking, aren’t I?”

Later that evening, when the chaos had settled and they were alone again, Five and Y/n found themselves back in the bathroom. Y/n was brushing her teeth, and Five was leaning against the counter, watching her with a soft smile.

“You know,” he said, his voice thoughtful, “I used to think that life was all about big moments. Saving the world, traveling through time, stopping apocalypses.”

Y/n looked at him through the mirror, raising an eyebrow. “And now?”

“Now I know it’s about the little things,” Five continued. “Like finding a gray hair and freaking out about it. Or laughing about it with you.”

Y/n rinsed her mouth and turned to face him. “You’re surprisingly sentimental tonight.”

Five shrugged, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “Just thinking about how much I love you. And how that won’t change, no matter how many gray hairs you find.”

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, her heart swelling with affection. “I love you, too, Five. Even if you laugh at my gray hair.”

Five chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Deal. Now, how about we find that hair dye, just in case?”

Y/n laughed, swatting his arm. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Guilty as charged,” Five said with a grin. “But you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

Y/n smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “No, I wouldn’t. Now, let’s get to bed before Klaus decides to redecorate the kitchen again.”

With that, they headed to their bedroom, their laughter echoing through the house. It had been a day full of surprises and laughter, and as they curled up together, Y/n knew that no matter what the future held, she could face it all with Five by her side

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Crash Course

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

word count: 822

pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

summary: Y/n returns to the paddock after recovering from her injuries, and Lando confronts her with his growing feelings

______________________________________________________________

The days following the crash were a blur for Y/n, filled with recovery sessions and endless interviews about the accident. The media buzzed with speculation, talking more about the rivalry between her and Lando than about the championship itself. Everyone wanted to know if the tension between them had reached a breaking point.

But Y/n couldn’t stop thinking about what Lando had said. His confession kept replaying in her mind, stirring something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. She kept pushing it aside, trying to focus on her recovery and the upcoming races, but it lingered in the back of her thoughts, persistent and confusing.

A few days later, Y/n was back at the paddock, still moving a little stiffly but determined to show everyone she was ready to race again. She walked through the garage, her team bustling around her, making sure everything was in place for the next practice session.

As she sat down to review some data, she felt a presence behind her before she heard the voice.

“Back so soon?” Lando’s voice was light, but she could hear the edge of concern behind it.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder, seeing him leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were studying her closely, as if assessing whether she was really okay.

“Did you expect me to stay away?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

Lando smirked, pushing off the wall and walking closer. “Just making sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m fine,” Y/n insisted, though the slight wince as she shifted in her seat betrayed her.

Lando noticed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure about that?”

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes. “You sound like my doctor.”

“Maybe I should be,” he teased, but there was an underlying sincerity in his tone. “Look, I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Y/n paused, the playful banter between them losing its edge. There it was again—that concern, that softness. She wasn’t used to this version of Lando, and it made her feel off-balance.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked quietly, looking up at him.

Lando hesitated, his playful smile fading. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before sitting down on the chair next to hers. “Because I meant what I said, Y/n. After the crash, when you almost collapsed… I realized how much I care. More than I probably should.”

Her heart skipped a beat, the air around them growing thick with tension. “Lando…”

“I know we’re rivals,” he continued, his voice low and serious. “And we’re both fighting for the championship, but… that doesn’t change how I feel.”

Y/n’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. This was happening—he was actually saying it, putting into words what had been unspoken between them for so long. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could she explain the way she felt, when she wasn’t even sure herself?

Seeing her hesitation, Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I get it. This is complicated. And if you don’t feel the same way, we can forget it—”

“No,” Y/n interrupted, her voice firm. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “It’s not that. I just… I’ve been so focused on beating you, on proving I’m the best, that I didn’t stop to think about anything else.”

Lando’s eyes softened, a glimmer of hope flickering in his expression. “And now?”

Y/n looked at him, the weight of her feelings settling in her chest. “Now, I’m starting to realize there’s more to this than just the rivalry.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as they looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. The tension that had always existed between them was still there, but it had changed—shifted into something neither of them had expected.

Lando leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… what now?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart racing. She knew they couldn’t just flip a switch and change everything. They were still competitors, still fighting for the same title. But maybe—just maybe—they could be something more, too.

“I guess we see what happens,” she replied softly, her eyes locking with his.

Lando’s lips curled into a small smile. “I like the sound of that.”

Before they could say anything else, Y/n’s team called her over for a briefing. She stood up, feeling Lando’s eyes on her as she turned to leave. Just before she walked away, she glanced back at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the end of their rivalry—but it could be the beginning of something else. Something that neither of them had been prepared for, but now seemed impossible to ignore.

[werewolfsister]

PSA: COMIC DRAMA

I've been slowly receiving critical, entitled, and passive-aggressive messages about the way I've been writing my comic! I wanted to address this behavior.

That being said, the majority of my readers have been nothing but positive! And when they spot a problem, they're kind about it. I really appreciate this; thank you to those who choose to be civil.

I'm making this post to address some issues, complaints, and questions I've seen. Let's take a look & see what we can discuss!

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT!

🦈-> I want you to use my character in your comic, but you're not using them! Sometimes, a character doesn't quite fit my vision for the comic-- even when they're designs that I love! I really do try to use as many people's characters as possible. I think it adds to the world & makes the comic feel more full of life! But I can't accommodate everyone's desires.

🐟->You're using my character in your comic, but you're not giving them enough screen time! Similar to the above issue, sometimes I don't think focusing on a particular character for any longer will serve the story well. Ultimately, I have final say on what happens in the comic. My advice is, if you feel your character isn't appearing enough, make your own content! Draw, write, craft, etc like I mention farther down below!

🐠->You said you were going to use my diplomat/character(s), but you only drew them in 1-2 panels. Why aren't you using them more? Similar to the points above! I was never planning on going into a TON of depth with the diplomats-- the comic focus also drastically changed, as I mention below.

🐡->You're using characters in the story that I don't like! Ahh that is too bad, but! In that case, you can always take a break from the comic & come back later to check if the characters are no longer being used, or maybe stop reading the comic altogether. However! If you have concerns with how the character is portrayed because of legitimate sexual/violence/illicit/illegal issues, then that's another issue entirely and you should let me know.

🪼->I thought this story was about rescuing Kenne, but now she's not even in the comic! I don't like the way this story is going! This is a big issue some people are having and I completely understand. There's been a lot of things going on behind the scenes that I haven't explained, which must be generating a lot of confusion. Originally, @kenneduck and I were collaborating closely on this comic. Recently, the dynamic shifted, and we're now working on the comic separately. @kenneduck is now responsible for the part of the story that heavily features her characters, i.e. Princess Kenne's perspective of the rescue, her rescue effort, and what's happening in the Domain of the Luminous trench. I am now working on a different angle of the story-- the diplomatic efforts of Zora's Domain in their attempt to negotiate for Princess Kenne's return. So, the story is still the same... the focuses have just changed and split!

🦑->You reblogged my fan art and/or linked it in your comic directory-- does that make my content canon? Oooh, this is actually kind of a tough one! Normally, if something is in the comic directory, I consider it to be canon to the story. So, if you've drawn something, and I add it to my directory for a comic chapter, I'll consider it to have happened in real time. THERE'S AN EXCEPTION! And it may be confusing, so I'm genuinely sorry! If you have drawn something where you are heavily modifying someone else's character--this means cosmetic changes, giving the character children/spouses/family, killing the character, altering their personality-- WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION, then I cannot accept that as canon. It's still fantastic that you drew/wrote/created something and I will probably put it in the MISCELLANEOUS section of the comic directory. I'VE MADE MISTAKES ON THIS! So, I've since updated the directory. And, sorry for all confusion on this issue! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐳->I want to collaborate with you on your comic, can I do that? That's awesome! Maybe in the future, but right now I'm not taking on any more partners. Maybe you can make your own separate additions, with your character(s) like I mention below!

🐙>I want to make fan art, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it. This was originally meant to be a very interactive comic, so draw/write/create away!!!

🦀->I want to draw my character(s) doing something in the world of your comic, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it! Like I mentioned above, however, I may or may not deem it canon to the events of the comic. But even if I don't, I'll add it to the MISCELLANEOUS section of my comic directory! ...as long as you don't alterate someone's character without permission! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐬->I want to make a character based on a Domain you created/idea you drew/etc., can I do that? Of course! Go for it. I love seeing what people make!

I know this is a lot of text, but it's better to be comprehensive! Please, keep in mind, I'm just one hobby artist making a comic for fun, with the spirit of interactivity and collaboration in mind. But it's impossible to keep that spirit going when people feel entitled and demand things of me that I am not obligated to give.

I queue out my pages several weeks in advance with the help of the people I'm working with, so what you see in the comic is the product of a lot of thought and work. You're getting something for free here, y'all. It ain't so serious!!!!

Anyways, thanks for reading this! And for reading the comic! Peace out ✌️

[bri-cheeses]

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 704 | Ngl this was definitely inspired by my own injuries which have had me stuck in the weight room for the past month | But we don’t need to talk about that |

-

The door to the weight room creaked as it was opened, revealing a familiar head of blond hair and blue eyes.

“You in here today too, Bee?” Evan asked, making his way over to where Barty had been busy rowing for the past ten minutes. Barty slowed in his motions.

“Yeah,” he responded. “Coach wanted to rest my ankle before tomorrow’s game. I’m assuming you’re stuck in here because of your shoulder?”

Evan sighed, some of his energy leaving his frame. “Pretty much. I tried to go out for practice, but he took one look at me and told me to turn back around. Something about how a dislocated shoulder is actually a big deal, or something. I wasn’t really listening.”

Barty made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. Being injured absolutely sucked.

“At least you’re here with me?” he offered in an attempt to make light of the situation, and Evan huffed a laugh and went about his workout a little less weary and defeated than he had been. Barty just smiled and resumed his rowing.

An hour later and Barty was back at the rowing machine after taking a stint on the bike, and Evan had decided it was a good idea to do some shoulder strengthening exercises. Which Barty was all for, because he definitely liked the idea of being able to prevent that sickening pop! and tortured expression that Evan had worn when his shoulder got wrenched out of its socket, but honestly, did he have to be doing that right now? Because as Barty’s gaze was once again pulled to his best friend, he couldn’t help but notice the bead of sweat rolling down Evan’s temple, or the fact that his arm muscles were looking positively delicious as he exercised, or that his cheeks were flushed in that lovely way Barty liked so much.

From the corner of his eye, Barty saw the screen on the rowing machine go dim. He’d evidently been staring at Evan too long and the lack of motion had paused the timer. But instead of trying to refocus his attention and begin again, he simply hooked the rowing handle back into place and stood, stepping over the bar where the seat sat in order to cross the room.

Evan didn’t even see him coming up behind him, and he startled as Barty wrapped his arms around Evan’s waist and pulled him into his chest.

“Hey,” Barty said, right next to Evan’s ear. The resulting shiver that went down Evan’s spine was enough to have Barty smiling to himself.

Still, that smile fell just slightly when he took in the way that Evan looked to the left and right, just to make sure that they were, in fact, alone.

“You scared me,” Evan murmured once he had surveyed their surroundings. He turned in Barty’s arms, locking eyes with Barty as he slid an arm around his neck. And what would Barty not give to just stay here in this moment, soaking up any and all extra time they got to themselves?

“Sorry,” said Barty, not sounding sorry at all. “I just couldn’t help it when you were standing here, looking all… like that.”

“Yeah?” asked Evan. His tongue wet his lips, and yet his gaze flicked somewhere behind Barty. Without having to look, Barty already knew what he was looking at.

“We’re out of sight of the door,” he said softly, having checked before he even dared to come over here. Even if someone looked through the small window in the door there was no way they would be able to see Evan and Barty in the corner, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Which was just as well, because he knew that Evan wouldn’t have leaned in and kissed him if there was even a small chance of them being found out.

As it was, however, Barty simply sighed softly and leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms tighter around Evan’s waist as if to never let him go.

And maybe someday, he would have the opportunity to do this without fear, to hold Evan and kiss him and love him out in the open like it should be.

Maybe someday.

-

[amanda-519]

Clementine's song in Songs of Origin is so interesting to me!! I had to theorize about what it means. Do spoilers for the song!! I'm going to analyze each and every lyric to understand what Clementine's childhood was like.

Starting off with the lyrics:

"Bird cage blue and yellow"

The lyrics start off with a bird cage, something that traps which is supposed to be free. I think in this song the bird cage is Clem's old home, and bird, in a sense, is them. I think the entrapment is more emotional than physical, but I'll get into that soon.

As for "blue and yellow" I think it symbolizes opposing emotions, like blue for sadness and happiness for yellow. Maybe it describes how sometimes Clemie was happy in the house (but still trapped) and sometimes sad.

"Candles warm and windows bare" continue on his dual nature. The candles bring warmth, but the bare windows suggest that Clem felt vulnerable, or isolated. It represents warmth but also exposure/emptiness.

"Tracing upturned smiles of portraits/drawn to disappear" the first line could be read in two ways I think. The first is that Clemie is tracing the smiles on portraits because they don't feel happy/feel that it's fake. Like, that the smiles are fake or forced, and that outside of the portraits they disappear.

And my other interpretation is Clemie's family used to be happy, but maybe something happened (like a death) and the smiles that once existed in the photos are now gone, ans Clemie is reminiscing on them.

"Flowers never talk, they never want/they never need" this line suggests to me that Clemie was seen as a flower. Pretty, but neglected (which is more clear in the next verse).

"In a cradle gilded, they are left/to rot yet never bleed" again I think in the song Clemie is the flowers. They were treated as something precious but neglected. I think the neglect is mainly emotional, since the sing also has themes of isolation. Like Clemie was left alone or maybe even isolated from other people.

I also think the "never bleed" line is about how Clemie wasn't supposed to show their pain. Like they're been "left to rot" yet they're expected to "never bleed" (show pain)

"Eyes of silver, mirror, mirror/Thread on wood and steel" These lines actually threw me a bit. Clemie has silver eyes, and this is a shot in the dark, but maybe Clemie's parent(s) also have silver eyes, and the "mirror, mirror" part is the parent seeing themselves in Clemie, and thus thinking they are beautiful, but neglecting them or keeping them away from their peers?

I'm not quite sure what "Thread on wood and steel" is supposed to mean. Maybe something mechanical that contrasts with Clemie's natural association with flowers?

Maybe it's about how Clemie was woven into a harsh, unfeeling life?? Like, wood and steel being harsh materials, and how the rest of the song is about how Clemie was controlled in their previous environment.

"Keep what can be kept" this ties to into my (mostly unfounded) theory that Clemie is the child of a dead parent, and their other parent, in a effort to preserve the dead parent, is "keeping" them, maybe even putting them in a glided cage, something pretty but still a cage, in a effort to protect them?

"And heave to see which one will kneel" this line suggests some kind of fight for control. Maybe Clemie eventually got sick of living in a glided cage and tried to fight back?

"I've been told to wait/but why should there be silence" finally! A less ambiguous line. Maybe Clemie, after getting tried of living in a glided cage, rebelled, and was told to wait/be slient. I'm not quite sure what they're being told to wait for, though. Maybe it's more of a general dismissal, like "ask me about this later" when "later" being "never".

"Dawning pretty laces/Weaving capes of gold/and framing muffled faces" these lines tie into the rest of the songs themes, with beauty, weaving, gold, and being silenced.

I think Clemie's parent(s) had a lot of money, and thus they lived a life of "luxury". They were seen as something pretty, like a flower, and wore pretty laces and gold, but their issues were silenced (muffled).

"I can be different" this line suggests a breaking of a cycle. Maybe, since Clemie's family was rich, they were expected to act a certain way, and this is them claiming that they're allowed to be different from their family.

"I can't be puppeted!" (Funnily, I actually missed this line the first time I wrote this out because I was going off the description lyrics, and the description is missing this lyric).

Pretty self explanatory. Clemie is saying that they can't be controlled. This is they fully fighting against their "gilded cage".

"Garden evergreen/was what I thought I would see" garden symbolism, which ties into Clemie's nature/flower symbolism. Maybe when Clemie was young they liked their home, but as they were controlled more and more, and isolated, it became both "yellow" and "blue". But they once saw it as a place of peace/growth.

"Branches meet my steps/their kisses open up ravines" As Clemie walks through their home, now feeling controlled, they find branches. Maybe the "garden evergreen" they once pictured has died, and all that is left are branches.

"Their kisses" could represent their family or parent(s). How they might try to comfort Clemie, but all it does it create a bigger wedge (ravine) between them.

"Fences frozen in a dance/they're yet to perform" this could symbolize how rigid Clemie's old life was. I was pretty stuck on what "fences" could represent.

A wall between them and the outside world? A boundary? A barrier?

And how that ties into the rest of the line/song.

Like did Clemie feel like they had barriers in their previous life that made them frozen? What about "in a dance"?

I eventually settled on the idea that this line implies tension between freedom and restriction. A fence is a boundary, but it's ready to move/dance, but it's frozen. It's yet to preform, but it wants to.

"I leave the house and the Baroness/buried in before" this all but confirms that Clemie came from a house with money, maybe they're the child of a baroness?

Or, it might not be so literal, with the baroness simply being Clemie's mother that is strict on them, playing the part of a baroness.

The "buried in before" line represents Clemie leaving behind their old life.

The line "Finndu mig í framtíðinni", according to Google translate, means "find me in tbe future". This could be Clemie saying that they have completely abandoned their previous life, that you will only find them in the "future".

"Rödd eins og bjalla/heldur okkur öruggum/ frá framtíðinni" means "A voice like a bell/keeps us safe/from the future" this line is really interesting to me.

The "voice like a bell" represents, to me at least, the Bellringer, someone Clemie feels a connection to and looks up to. Though I'm not sure "keeps us safe/from the future" in this context means, why would Clemie need to be kept safe from the future? If what they're left buried is the past? Maybe Clemie just feels anxious about the future.

--

In conclusion, to me Clemie's song tells the story in which they grew up in a rich house (maybe even as a child of a baroness). They were seen as pretty, but emotional neglected by their family and isolated.

At first Clemie liked their life, but as they grew up and their family became more controlling, they found that their life wasn't "evergreen". They started having conflicting emotions about their life, feeling trapped inside a glided cage, but still warm.

Until it becomes too much and they start rebelling against their family, until they finally run away.

What do you think? If you have any ideas/thoughts, please send me an ask or reblog with your thoughts!! I loved the new songs so much!! Who knows, I might even do something similar for Cole's song!

[sunshinebingo]

A Gwynriel meet-cute fic inspired by my writer's block and the music video of I Hear A Symphony by Cody Fry.

Synopsis: Gwyn tries everything possible to put a stop to her writer's block, unbeknownst that her source of inspiration will appear right at her door.

Word Count: 2.4k

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

She sat, alone and upset.

She sat in her home, as lonely and desperate as she had ever been, and waited for a miracle to happen.

Gwyn crossed yet another sentence, the words becoming less readable with every line she frustratingly drew across them.

“Ugh. I’m a lost cause,” she complained.

What was she doing wrong? She was applying every advice she had received from her fellow authors, some of which had worked for her previous writer’s blocks. She was so desperate that she was even doing everything all at once to increase her chances at finally writing. Her head had been a blank slate for too many months now.

The first step had been to put on her comfiest hoodie and shorts, her hair up in a high ponytail, and to sit on her comfiest chair at her desk with some cool water. She was also using a pen and paper instead of her laptop. Typing everything out later would be an extra step, but one that she was willing to take. If, she hoped hard, she managed to write anything at all. In addition to all that, she was using a different colour than black, and had convinced herself that she was using a different font. If she always used Times New Roman, Arial or Calibri, her own handwriting had to count as a new font, right?

She even had ambient music playing in the background; the sound of a peaceful forest that she imagined her heroine – a nymph – living in. From the different sounds that floated around her, Gwyn imagined the nymph sitting in her little cottage, with a freshly polished dagger on a table next to a steaming cup of hibiscus tea. Magical birds could be heard chirping outside along with her ethereal voice humming. Occasionally, Gwyn could also hear tiny footsteps and giggles that made her think of the little folks that she had introduced earlier in chapter 3.

All the conditions were perfect. Every element was right here in her head; the setting, the mood, the time and weather. Yet it still felt like nothing was happening. As though she couldn’t get her heroine to do anything, no matter how hard Gwyn poked her with her mental stick. Perhaps she was also waiting for something more interesting than everything her creator came up with.

Gwyn sighed and rubbed her eyes. The bright pink was starting to hurt her tired eyes and making her annoyance with herself grow. Maybe she should have picked a different one among her many colourful pens. Could a glittery one work?

She took a few sips of water from her favourite mug, followed by a few slow and deeps breaths during which she wondered how the hell she had managed to publish two books in four years with a brain like hers.

Reading and writing were a passion that she had successfully turned into her job. It meant more to her than just paying her bills and affording everything she owned. It was her source of joy and fulfilment; what had slowly let her out of her safe shell and had given her a reason to live. At least it was all of this when the made-up creatures living in her head actually did things that she could write about. Her team of editors and publishers would never approve of a story where the characters only sat and waited for the unknown for half of the book.

“Someone could die,” Gwyn tapped her pen against her cheek and thought out loud. But for that to happen, she would have to come up with a motive and a plan.

She imagined her protagonist staring blankly at her as if to ask, “Really?”

She scowled at the pink ink on the white paper and asked, “What else do you suggest to spice up the plot?”

She refused to give up on her story midway through. Something would happen. She just needed faith in her creativity and her skills. And a prayer or two to the writers’ gods to send a genius idea her way. With little hope that they would listen, Gwyn plunged back into her story, where the nymph was still doing a whole lot of nothing.

She sat there, as lonely and desperate as she had ever felt, and slowly giving up on the hope that miracles could happen, when a rattling sound disturbed the quiet of her home. It persisted until…

“Wait a second.”

…until the author realised that the sound was coming from outside her own apartment door.

“What the hell?”

Both of Gwyn’s best friends, Emerie and Nesta, the only two who ever showed up at her place unannounced, were currently at work. Even if they had gotten out early, they would have knocked or called after finding her door locked. Which it most often was. The building that Gwyn lived in was quite luxurious with an excellent security system. But judging by the person who had been trying to forcefully open her door for the last minute, Gwyn’s anxiety about her safety began to surface again.

She stood from her desk and made her way towards what could be an intruder. Holding her pink pen up like a serial killer might hold a knife, Gwyn brought her hand to the knob. If she was fast enough, she could press the button on the interphone right next to the door as soon as she opened it and alert the security guard. But what if Frank was already dead and now the killer was coming for her? Gwyn damned herself for having gone with an apartment on the second floor instead of the twenty-second. What was the benefit of having one of the best balconies in the building if she was among the firsts to die?

“Pull yourself together Gwyneth!” she told herself.

Her heroine wouldn’t cower before the one trying to break through her cottage. She would feel the fear but confront it. Gwyn might have no dagger nor claws; she might have no magic to bring down her enemies. But, like her nymph, she refused to die. Not when she had a story to finish. Gwyn summoned as much courage as she had often infused her nymph with and yanked her door open.

What she saw crouching before her with a key in one gloved hand and a black and blue helmet in the other didn’t look like a murderer. Not that she had ever knowingly come face to face with one to know what they looked like.

Gwyn lowered her pen at her side as the man straightened and towered over her with strong arms and broad shoulders that were hugged by a black leather jacket. His brown skin glowed under the dim yellow light of the baroque-style hallway of the building. His hazel eyes were like a blaze that bore into Gwyn, even as the rest of his handsome face showed signs of surprise. There was a hint of confusion apparent in the frown of his obsidian eyebrows that matched the colour of his short, dishevelled hair.

He looked like a male straight out of a romantasy. The type whose looks alone could mark him as someone who is always broody. Until he meets the one who can effortlessly make him smile with an adorable laugh, a teasing remark or an irreverent challenging look; the latter being the kind a writer like herself would describe as a withering stare that would earn the object of the male’s fascination an amused chuckle.

Was he even real? Or had Gwyn dived so deep into her fictional world that she had landed somewhere inside it? If it was the case, then it meant that there was more to her story that she had yet to discover, since she had never met such a stunning man in that world of hers. She didn’t even know that such beauty and magnetism was possible.

He was just standing there in front of her. Yet his eyes seemed to hold a power that made it impossible for her to acknowledge anything else.

“Hello.”

The deep voice she heard didn’t sound like it was coming from her imagination.

“Hi,” she breathlessly greeted back.

“Uh... Hi... I was...”

Gwyn took in every single fumbled words that came out of his plump lips, ready to listen to him say anything. But he stopped and, for a moment, just stared at her with an intensity that she did not realise matched the way she was looking at him.

“Can I help you?” she asked when the silence stretched, hoping that she hadn’t looked at him like she had never seen a man before. Although she was still not entirely convinced that he wasn’t a manifestation of her fantasies.

The man shook his visible stupor away at her question and offered her a small yet very charming smile.

“I think this is my new apartment.”

Gwyn frowned in puzzlement.

“I’m sure it’s not?” she said like she wasn’t sure at all.

He cocked his head to the side in thought before looking around as though he had dropped something. Then, realising he was already holding it, he held his key up for her to see.

“Isn’t this number 9?”

Gwyn’s frown deepened until realisation struck her harder than a lighting bolt.

“Ah. I see.” Gwyn pursed her lips to hold in a laugh. “May I?”

She extended her hand to the mystery man and motioned to his key with a tilt of her head.

He raised a brow at her. A corner of his lips slowly tugged into a smirk that disappeared a few seconds later. Whether he was trying to consciously school his features or not, Gwyn didn’t know. But she enjoyed the mischief that she had glimpsed for a moment there.

“You may,” he said as he dropped the small object in her open palm.

Gwyn held the key chain up and placed it next to the engraving on the wall with her house’s number on it. She showed him how, in this way, the key chain formed a miniature version of the engraving, with the design being the exact same, except for the 6 of her house number which didn’t match the 9 of his key.

His eyes darted between the engraving and the key, and to the redhead who was playfully wiggling her eyebrows at him. Then he laughed, his rich voice so beautiful that Gwyn imagined it would be impossible to ever tire of hearing it. And when she laughed with him, she found that she very much liked the harmony that their two voices created.

“I’m sorry.” He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “That was very dumb of me.”

“I’ll give you that. It was,” she said with a shrug.

The man eyed Gwyn like he was disappointed that she had so quickly agreed. His expression only pulled another laugh out of Gwyn.

“Yours is the one over there.” She pointed at the hallway behind him. To the second door down to her left. “Next to the wall lamp.”

He look there before turning back to her. Gwyn dangled his key in front of him.

“You won’t get my home just yet but you’ll get to be my neighbour.”

She found herself curious as to what kind of neighbour mister handsome here would be. Would they come across each other at random hours of the day and night as they went about their lives?

The smile that brightened his face was more disarming than any that Gwyn had ever seen.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, neighbour.” He extended a hand to her.

“I’m Gwyneth. Or just Gwyn.”

She shook his offered hand with the same one that she still held his key. He took it with him as he slowly, almost reluctantly, pulled his hand away.

“I’m Azriel. Or just... Azriel.”

He cleared his throat and adjusted the helmet he carried under his left arm. Gwyn smiled.

“Alright. Just Azriel.”

They stood there in silence for a while. Their gazes locked, their hands fidgeting with whatever they carried. Gwyn was here and somewhere else at the same time. His body, his face, his voice, his mere presence stirred something in her. It was thrilling and also...intimidating.

He was like a mystery that was yet to be unfold. A story that needed to be written. Gwyn sensed in her writer’s heart that his could be one with pain and pleasure, ire and love. His eyes were a window through which she wanted to dive into his soul and learn all of his secrets. She also wanted to know what kind of man he could be in his most caring or vulnerable state.

Knowing a person in such a deep, all encompassing way was almost impossible. But perhaps, Gwyn wondered as her eyes widened, her version of him could provide her with the answers she sought.

“I – ”

“I – ”

“I should – ”

“I need to – ”

They both laughed at their synchronicity.

“I should go check my actual apartment.”

“And I should get back to mine. I hope you don’t get lost on your way.”

One of his brows rose. “I will blame your directions if I do.”

Gwyn crossed her arms and scowled at him. But the effect was lost with the smile that threatened to spread on her lips.

She watched him turn around and walk to his apartment. No doubt sensing her eyes still on him after he opened his door, “just Azriel” looked at her again. Gwyn waved at him. He winked, then stepped inside. Without wasting another second, Gwyn closed her own door and rushed to her desk.

Words and images formed in her mind like music flowing out of her imagination; a scene playing out like a musician effortlessly soaring through the notes of their symphony.

Gwyn immersed herself in it and let her hand glide across pages after pages of her notebook. She wrote about the nymph and her intruder, a mysterious male that became more real with every element she discovered about his character.

It might have been luck or sheer coincidence. It might have also been an answer to her hopeless prayers. Gwyn had no time to care. What mattered was that she was now inspired.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

hi! can I have some angel Neil this week?

—💖💖

WIP Wednesday (9/18) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 236)

"No. I was just making sure," Andrew says, aiming for nonchalance. Neil doesn't look particularly convinced and now Andrew worries he's accidentally granted himself an angelic audience for tomorrow's session. Damn. Andrew licks his lips. Time to lie. "I am going to talk to her about the nightmare I had the other night. I wanted to be sure you wouldn't listen."

Neil's eyes widen minutely, then he nods. "Good. You should talk to her about it," he says, taking Andrew by surprise.

"I thought you didn't believe in therapy."

"I don't. But you do. And I could feel how much that dream affected you, Andrew. It feel like you needed me, it felt like I needed to wake you. But then you woke yourself up and came up here and tore your brother a new one." Neil says, making Andrew cringe internally. He really hadn't meant to go berserk that morning, but Aaron's a fucking idiot. (And no matter what Neil says, they're twins. They're the same.)

Neil moves to sit back up and stretches his arms over his head. "All I'm saying is it must've been bad."

"It was."

"So, if you can't talk to me about it you should talk to her. Maybe she's got the magic cure for recurring dreams."

"Recurring." Andrew repeats. 

“Isn’t it? I’ve felt you have nightmares before.” Neil says. Andrew isn’t sure. He's never thought about it much. He's never tried to label the horrible things his brain makes him relive when he goes night-night. But he supposes Neil could be right. Is it recurring when the places and faces and sheets are sometimes different? Does he actually need to talk to Bee about this? (Probably.)

"I used to have a recurring nightmare when I was a little kid. It was about a clown," Neil offers randomly.

"What?"

"Yeah. It would come into my bedroom and just stand there in the doorway, staring at me with a bloody knife in its hand. Sometimes it would laugh, but usually it was deathly quiet," Neil says, trying to suppress a shudder. He fails and shivers so violently Andrew can feel it. A moment later, Neil makes a face as if something's occurred to him. "Come to think of it that might've just been my father playing a prank on me."

The easy way Neil says it has Andrew choking on a badly-timed laugh. He coughs at Neil's look. "How fucked up of him."

"Oh yeah, he was real fun like that. It's not the worst thing he ever did though," Neil says with a shrug. Andrew looks at Neil for a moment, then glances down to where the hem of his jeans has rolled up, revealing a thick scar around Neil's ankle. It matches the ones Andrew's seen on his wrists. He very nearly asks about it, but forces the question off his tongue because he swore he'd never ask.

Instead he sighs and accidentally lets, "Honk honk," slip past his filter.

Neil gives him a quizzical look. "What was that? Are you a goose now?"

"No. Don't clowns honk?"

"I... My father didn't."

"Never mind then."  Andrew says, looking to the side. They're quiet for a moment, then Neil is sputtering laughter. 

"Honk honk." He says, devolving into a fit of giggles. Andrew can only watch, awe-struck and mesmerized at the sound. When Neil covers his face with his hand and starts to settle down, Andrew says it again and laughs with him until he can't breathe.

[necrotic-nephilim]

in my mind brudick marriage happens almost byaccident: after bruce “dies” dick is left alone and without access to damian or the manor or funds as he was never adopted and is only a former ward, so in dicks grieving mind the clearest way forward is to forge a secret but technically legal marriage, bruce doesn’t find out for years after he comes back, damian knew why he was in custody with richard and assumed it was common knowledge that no one ever brought up, alfred just lets this all play out even knowing that bruce did have a clause in his will to protect dick incase of death (plans upon plans), bruce was upset in all the ways bruce would deny his feelings

this is SUCH a good thought oh my god-

first of all, i am kissing you on the mouth for adding morally fucked up Alfred who just *lets* this play out. he could easily intervene and he *should*, but the idea that he doesn't because for some reason he thinks this is for the best is *such* good food. i love the thought that Alfred knows about unresolved BruDick feelings and feels in Bruce's death, Bruce at least deserves the one thing he never allowed himself to have in life: Dick's hand in marriage. and Dick is so deep in denial and just trying to legally keep hold of Damian and Wayne Enterprises. it's such a stupid last ditch effort and he doesn't even expect it to *work* but it does. Dick is able to keep it under wraps with only a few lawyers and WE higher ups knowing, the public assumes Bruce naturally left everything to Dick bc why wouldn't he? Dick is his eldest ward, after all. Damian knows bc he sees all the papers concerning Dick having his legal guardianship and he just shrugs it off because really, his father's relationship with Dick is none of his business.

and of course, when Bruce comes up there are so many *other* things to handle that Dick just doesn't think to mention it. he's not willingly withholding the information and Bruce assumes Dick *knew* about the contingencies Bruce set up for his death so he doesn't question Dick having all this control. it's not until years later when one of his WE lawyers passingly mentions "oh you might need your husband to sign off on this too" and Bruce is like. i'm sorry my *what*. because he knows the Batfam got up to some chaotic things trying to keep his death a secret, but no one mentioned a *husband*. so Bruce checks the paperwork and is going through every single stage of grief because *did no one think to tell him he's legally married to Dick.* Bruce demands answers and Dick has to awkwardly explain the whole thing to a baffled Bruce who just asks why Dick didn't *check Bruce's files* for this. (maybe Dick didn't think to, maybe Alfred deleted them, who's to say) Bruce wants to be mad at Dick, mostly for not telling Bruce. but all his unspoken feelings make it *very* difficult to figure out what to do. especially when Dick offers to quietly get a divorce since enow the marriage isn't needed and Bruce's *gut* reaction is to blurt out no, no no let's not do that. and he can't explain why he's so against it without admitting how badly he wants to be married to Dick even amidst the worst of his feelings.

it takes them months to actually *talk* about it, and tbh it's probably Damian's assumptions about their relationship that make them face it. bc to Damian the mutual feelings are obvious and the marriage is known so yes of course, Bruce and Dick are in love and together what's so difficult to understand about this, it's no one's business but their own. (i especially love the idea of Damian chastises other characters like Tim for trying to ask questions because doesn't Tim know romance for Bruce is a very private affair and it's *wildly* disrespectful of Tim to think he has the right to know these things.) and so when Damian makes a passing comment about their relationship and Bruce and Dick share a mortified look, they realize they have to talk about it. and instead of ending on clearing the air, they accidentally confess feelings for one another. it's stilted and painful, but they manage to agree maybe they can keep the marriage going. and maybe they don't have to correct Damian.

(also, this is a side thought but: i think a lot about how Tommy Elliot was made to pretend to be Bruce while Bruce was dead and all that fun, and i think it's fun if Tommy knows about the marriage bc he helped Dick sign off on it. and Tommy tries to force Dick into a relationship with him to "maintain the facade" and Dick rejects the advances, maybe Tommy even forces himself on Dick once or twice. it doesn't go too far and they get Tommy back under control, but it's clear Tommy's annoyed when Bruce comes back and he doesn't get to "have his fun" anymore. also fun if Bruce finds out about this and is *furious* bc not only did he not know he's married to Dick, but it was *Tommy* who got to have Dick as a husband before Bruce did and now he's jealous and pissed about the whole thing. just a fun little aside thought bc i wish the fandom had more fun with Tommy's era of pretending to be Bruce.)

[danthropologie]

Re the previous ask about blake holding camera = he knew

1. He has his camera in every race. I don’t know if Blake holding it meant anything.

2. He had his parents out in AD22. With SG being closer, his parents would have made it even if it was by flying private. His gf wasn’t there in AD22 either, so not making that comparison

3. Compare his pre-race interview (not even the media day one) during the parade. Complete change from the post race interview. Complete change in demeanour

Combining 2 & 3, if he knew earlier, the earliest could be right before the race. Then why would management do sth like that before the race? (Then again why does rbr do anything atp?) That man knew nothing concrete going into the weekend, just like he predicted nothing amiss before the summer break. That hell video wasn’t for nothing - no one can make me believe otherwise

Alternatively, he himself might have given rbr the ultimatum hoping to force their hand and when they didn’t get back, he finally realised he was done playing this game. He was finally disillusioned. ofc helping max was one part (i genuinely believe that played in his mind when he was asked for the FL) and sticking to mcl was another part, but at the end if the record breaking lap was what he could take away in what he believed was his last moment in the lap, he put his entire ricussy into getting it.

As much as I want to remain delulu, i think (with extreme sadness) this is it for him. Not because it’s over, but HOW it’s over. All because they decided to keep a bum like Checo. I’m ambivalent towards Yuki, but heck I am even angry on his behalf too. Genuinely gutted that rb did DR dirtier than mcl and that’s saying sth, considering all he had done for rbr and how CH and rbr paraded him around as their family member. Will never forgive them. Rbr’s downfall is gonna be something else altogether and you best believe that I will be there to witness and bask in it.

so what you're saying is that clip of helmut going over to daniel just before the race, he was actually inflicting psychological torture on him saying "you better fucking beat that guy or you're out of the sport. good luck! 😉"

no but seriously, i was with you right up until the end bit 😭😭😭 even the idea of giving them some sort of 'red bull or nothing' ultimatum that sent him spiraling i could get on board with. but i don't agree that it's over.

the crazy thing to me is that for as far as it ended up spiraling out, to ME it really just feels like a complex series of misunderstandings and miscalculations (not including the media's part in it cause i think they WERE malicious in their handling of it).

the daniel of it all is the worst part to me because obviously by the end of the weekend he HAD been convinced that it may in fact be the end. i don't believe that that was ever actually the case, but between the confidence in the way the media was reporting it, the lack of clarity from red bull, the trauma and insecurities left from 2022 mclaren and maybe even rbr over this past summer break, and the mental and emotional toll the race itself actually took on him, he was clearly worn down and left in a very vulnerable state where he drew the only real conclusions anyone in his position COULD draw.

meanwhile you have vcarb who apparently didn't know a single fucking thing, so they COULDN'T say anything because there's nothing TO say.

and then you have red bull. now clearly they DO hold some responsibility for the whole thing. they knew what the narratives were going into the weekend, and it should have been easy for them to just clarify that all drivers are going to see out the season, 2025 decision to come later. BUT that being said, i truly do not think they had any clue whatsoever just how big this thing was gonna get. i think they miscalculated in thinking a) it wasn't going to be that big and b) daniel would be able to handle it. he's done it so many times before! why wouldn't he be able to do it again! but then obviously by the time daniel's having his little menty b in the middle of the media pen, it's too late, there's not really anything they can do.

like jenna @accio-ricciardo brought up this idea the other day that it's almost like...have you ever been in a situation where someone in your life accidentally made you cry because they didn't realize you were at the end of your rope emotionally and some tiny little thing they didn't think was even a big deal sets you off and sends you sobbing? it kind of feels like perhaps that was red bull/christian/whoever with daniel. they figured he's a trooper, he'll let it wash off his back like he always does, he can handle it, not realize that he very much COULD NOT handle it because all these different factors were boiling up into the perfect shitstorm to make him absolutely lose his mind.

and if this is the case—it really was just a bunch of misunderstandings and miscalculations compounding and multiplying on each other—i've said it once, i'll say it a million times, i DO think there's a way back and way for things to continue on as they were meant to before all this shit happened. it's just a matter of apologies and reassurances and making things right, and hopefully everyone can set aside their pride enough for that to happen.

[chaotic-starlight24]

Two-Bit Mathew's General Headcanons

This was a bunch of random thoughts I compiled together, mostly came up with them late at night. So not all of this is completely accurate to my views. I have a very complex view on him and he is definitely the most underrated of the gang. He's also the final member of the gang I have yet to do general headcanons of :) It's not my favorite headcanons I've done so I might edit these later or add on to my thought.

Darry and Two-bit Friendship stuff

Warnings: Spoilers and angst, not much else

He really likes the cheesy romance movies (He would LOVE Hallmark) They are the only ones he can sit through. He says it's because he loves to laugh at them but in reality he likes that they always have a happy ending.

He sleepwalks a lot and one time he and Darry were having a sleepover and Darry woke up at 2 to find him sitting in the kitchen eating a sandwich. Darry most definitely screamed.

He is a bit on the chubbier side but is actually still quite confident. Occasionally he will have bouts of low self-esteem but Marcia or the gang are quick to help him out. He does actually eat healthy a good amount of the time at home(His mother is very good at cooking veggies) but he also makes some…questionable food choices.

He wobbles when he walks, drunk or not. Like he’ll be walking to grab something from the counter and is walking with the MJ lean. But he has great balance. 

The gang sometimes has roast battles and Two-Bit always ends up winning because he has such an easy time coming up with stuff. The only one who can rival him is Johnny.

He is surprisingly responsible when it comes to babysitting kids. He just loves them to be honest. When he got to hold his baby sister for the first time he actually cried.

He calls Pony Ponykid sometimes just to mess with him

He feels kinda neglected by his mom but he won't ever say it. His mom works so much and his sister has anger bursts usually which takes up even more of her energy. So he usually just comes home, makes sure his sister is ok and safe and sees if she's gonna get up to anything, and then leaves to find something to do. He doesn't want to take up more space than he has to.

His house is really messy and it's not from lack of trying to keep it clean. He's just kinda given up on doing much unless it's really disgusting because if anything is cleaned up it's usually dragged out by his sister during her tantrums. Things get destroyed, furniture gets knocked around,boxes get dumped. She can be rather violent and he hates it. He hates seeing his mother's tired face as she watches his kid sister have another fit. He hates seeing his sweet little sister turn into a different creature just because she couldn't communicate that she couldn't figure out her homework. So he tried to live his life trying to not pay much attention to anything. But he ends up not succeeding.

His little sister has undiagnosed autism and ADHD. So he is kinda a Glass Child. She’s gotten better as she’s gotten older but she still struggles with anger.

Him and Darry, especially when they were kids, are best friends. They grew up together and grew apart for a little while when Darry and Paul were becoming the most popular guys in school. He was also friends with Paul and they would all hangout but Paul’s parents did not like him being around Two-Bit since he was more of a typical greaser in their eyes. It didn’t really bother Two-Bit though.

This meant Two-Bit got hit pretty hard when Darry started hanging more around west side kids. He was never around to hear some of the stuff Darry was saying but one day Darry went a bit far and made a couple jabs at Two without name-dropping, as well as others that are friends of his. Paul almost wanted to prove that Darry was his bestie now so he purposefully made sure word got to Two-Bit and the Curtis gang. Which led to a big fight between the two which led to Darry just yelling at Two-Bit to just leave him alone. (Maybe I should turn this into a fic later)

They became closer once again after the Curtis parents died and Darry realized who really was there for him. It really hit him once Two-Bit let him lean on his shoulder and just talk for hours while Paul’s scribbled note lay on the counter. Two-Bit just was glad to have him back.

Since Darry is always so busy now, he’s increased on hanging out with Johnny or just alone. He always took a shine to Johnny and ever since Soda brought Johnny into the gang he’s always tried to look out for him. Which is why Johnny stays at his house pretty often.

Johnny is always welcome in his house and his sister seems to calm down more around him. Maybe it's because she knows what he’s been through or because she just thinks he’s a cool guy. Johnny always likes sleeping there because it's cozy and Two-Bit’s family is really welcoming. Ms. Mathews always makes sure there’s extra food even if Johnny hasn’t said he’s coming. She just wants to let him know he’s always welcome even if he isn’t staying the night.

Two-Bit is just waiting for the chance to beat up Johnny’s parents. Any way he can make their days more annoying he will find a way. He just makes sure to never be caught doing so because Johnny’s parents would attack Johnny for it. 

Once Johnny died, Two-Bit couldn’t even look at the couch Johnny would sleep on.

When he got jumped by the socs, book!two-bit was shaken but confident. He was glad to have shown them he was strong and they weren’t able to shake him. But also seeing the rage and fear in some of their eyes made it start to hit him. They really were feeling the same way as half the greasers were.

Musical!Two-Bit was badly shaken. He laid on the ground for a while, tears running down his face. But he was found very quickly by Steve and Soda since his scream could be heard from the DX station. His mother held him close that night as he just stared at the ground in shock. Everyone on the east side thought that would only make him hate the socs more. But in his eyes, he didn’t really know what he was feeling. Especially after meeting Marcia and Cherry and some of the kinder socs. They were nice. But why were these ones not? It was just too much for him to try and comprehend. So he gave up trying

He is ambidextrous and he loves showing off to little kids. Pony was always stunned at Two-Bit’s ability to write two sentences at the same time. (Darry thinks Two-Bit isn’t actually able to write with both hands, he thinks that his handwriting is just terrible)

He’s the kind of person to just know everybody. Not exactly friends with everyone, but he knows every single person in Tulsa. Like one time he was at the grocery store with Darry. 

Two: Oh hey, Brill!

Darry: You know that kid?

Two: I sure do

Darry: Never woulda thought you’d get along with a soc guy like him

Two: Nah, I bit him after he tried to punch me at the drive-in.

He always acts immature and he can be. But he knows when the situation calls for him to take charge or turn on the big brother mode of sorts. 

He really likes Marcia for a lot of reasons. But one of his bigger reasons is that she actually takes him seriously. He’s so used to mainly being the comedy relief in the gang and to others. Though Darry does take him seriously sometimes. Marcia is willing to listen and banter with him on some very stupid subjects, but she’s also there for him when he wants to have serious talks. And especially late at night he can switch between the two.

[allwormdiet]

Buzz 7.7

Nazi capes fuck off, again

Okay, cool, the Protectorate needs to have one or more Triumvirate members mobilizing for Brockton Bay fucking immediately.

I'm certain that Alexandria or one of the others will be here any second now to deal with this televised brutality that's currently going uncontested in a Protectorate city

(The BB Protectorate doesn't get shown doing a whole lot during this particular incident, and frankly I don't think that means they're doing nothing. We see one front of the Empire's offensive and we know there are others who can cause just as much damage if left alone, plus the only Protectorate members who are maybe equipped to deal with Purity are Armsmaster and Dauntless, but given her flight and sheer destructive capability I'm not sure. I'm not so dismissive as to say they're letting this all slide, whatever they're doing is likely off-screen so to speak.

But the higher-ups should have sent in someone who could actually knock Purity's head concave, and frankly I trust them even less for not doing it with this or with Bakuda's threats.)

We get more of this later, but I think this is the first real sign of where Brian and Taylor's sensibilities diverge. Taylor's given up on being a superhero, but she still wants to be a good person, and that means that when fucking Nazis are running around burning down the city she wants to stop them, not least because they're being blamed for this rampage. Brian's priorities are different: his number one priority is his people, family or team or otherwise, and everyone else is a very distant second. As long as the Empire doesn't manage to come down on anyone he cares about, he's willing to let the city take whatever they dish out in the meantime.

This difference of opinion is going to come to a head in pretty short order, but we already see the friction before that.

Who the fuck decides whether the Triumvirate gets put on a job or not? If Alexandria or one of the others is hearing about this, can anyone actually stop them from holding back if they want to come out and put an end to this? If somebody can hold them back, that someone is at best wildly incompetent. If nobody can hold them back, I automatically hold those three in deep fucking contempt. Take a day trip and beat the shit out of some fucking Nazis, how is that such a burden?

Also, "genetically pure or not." What a fucking winner we have here, no wonder there are Purity stans who want to redeem her with the power of love or whatever.

So, this is an execution on live television. Of a cameraman, who was just the unlucky son of a bitch to get chosen for this demonstration. Are there genuinely people out there who believe the idea that the Empire is "civilized" compared to the other gangs? Some kind of lesser evil? Who reads this and goes "well actually I think that Kaiser and his followers are misunderstood and quite noble" go fuck yourself

Taylor gets fucking mean when she's not keeping a lid on it, huh?

Yeah of course the only thing she gives a shit about is her stupid baby. God I hope they figure out how to take custody from her or something, nobody deserves to be raised by a maniac like that.

Thank you Coil, that's very helpful of you Coil, this does nothing to tarnish your carefully constructed image of being in total control of the situation Coil.

Yeah, so. Proof that Purity is too strong for the local Protectorate to handle.

Also glad to see that Brian can be convinced of the right course of action once someone leans on him enough. There's only so much collateral damage he can stomach, it turns out. Hopefully that means he gets his head out of his ass about Dinah.

I don't think Taylor knows Brian well enough to have a real insight into his moral stances. A month into most of my friendships over my life I couldn't tell you how they'd respond to the trolley problem or whatever, except for the one girl who considered the trolley problem to be a stupid joke of a philosophical exercise and didn't really shy away from that.

I think she just kind of assumed that the two of them being alike in other ways, and seeing him in a particularly positive and flattering light, meant that he'd be on her side with whatever moral quandaries might come up as parahumans.

I'd say it's best she get over the shock now but she's not done being shocked by her peers this arc.

Sighs

These fuckers

Taylor having strong opinions on particular power sets is pretty funny.

Current Thoughts

Taylor you really gotta stop putting the people you like up on pedestals, it's just gonna lead to hurt and disappointment

Fucking hate Purity and the rest of her merry little band of Nazi fuckwits. I hope the Endbringer kills them to a one.

This upcoming fight is interesting tbh. I don't think it's the coolest or anything, but it's a display of how someone with a hard counter to your superpower doesn't mean an automatic loss, it just means a really fucking hard-fought win.

[grendil2]

Oh and by the way “sex kitten programming” is a fucked up techie term dropped by multiple people. I didn’t make it up or something.

It started with posts from anons claiming to have worked in tech but were inexplicably pushed out. These were posts from now long-eradicated forums and later discords. But discords are constantly eradicated to prevent cohesion among white Christians or the construction of archives and the spreading of knowledge, obviously.

Anyway “Sex kitten programming” (🤮) as a term probably no longer gets used because it’s been mutated into something else, or perhaps it got lumped in with a more generalized term. Maybe it’s just “programming” now, since there are now so many kinds. But one thing everyone remembers is that the term was sort of used a bit by people, and would have been swiftly forgotten, but then every Fed in the fucking world started using it suddenly.

Feds actually use the term from time to time, to this day, as their “grain of truth” in an otherwise lie-filled disinformation posts. To give the lies more validity. Or something? Obviously because the term is so icky, one can’t help but be driven by one’s own cruelty and ignorance into thinking the guy who used the term (me lol) made it up himself and is possibly some sort of creepy psycho? So maybe that’s the purpose of using it so often. But no, it is (or was) a real, actual term.

It basically means using content recommendations to push little white girls into increasingly perverted sexual stuff until they leave the gene pool. Yes they do incel-programming type stuff to white girls, and starting as early as they get a phone and the camera sees their white skin. The goal is, naturally, to “cut off the children of the goyim” as the Skeksis have been instructed to do by God.

The content, well curated for a decade (by now I assume) and driven by psychology and AI, gradually warps the child’s perception of men and the world. They go especially hard on this during puberty. Content is gradually introduced into the feed. News stories, sob stories, historical villains, cartoon Characters. All made up, all designed to leverage a white Girl’s perception of men, until she’s a childless incel.

You’ve met white girl victims of this everywhere, and few are unscathed, really only golem freemartin white girls escape it. (The AI flags allies.)

The content gradually lowers the innocent girl into an utterly psychotic world view, which is often seen and accepted as a joke in their teenage years, but then grows all too real as they grow up. Their personality is permanently shifted by it against their will or ability to remember how it all started. This is how it works really, time and exposure.

In the face of their curated, warped reality they either become fujoshis longing for normal white kindness (warped into homosexuality) or adapt to the false world pragmatically and become whores. Spiritually hurting themselves. Onlyfans and dancing for old white boomers and brown men (metrics show that this is the case.) This path is very, very, bitterly common. More common than you might think. This is also the most common type of corruption that leads them to racemix. I should clarify that I hate this world and I want God to save the little white mice but he just doesn’t seem to care.

There’s also the third option, rage against the false world and become vicious radfems (this is where their hatred truly comes from), who are also often TERFs and would be wife material if they understood the depth and complexity of what the Skeksis have inflicted on them. I say wife material because in the face of this inescapable process, the radfem path is the most righteous by a mile. If real men really acted like they did in their false world, radfems would be the last white women with Christian values. That’s just true!!!! Also they’re the only ones who seem to hate evil.

Anyway Zuckerberg started Facebook for pervy shit, do you really think that the people who wanted to use phones to brainwash people wouldn’t start by being creeps? Do you really think it never occurred to them that they could use it to brainwash white girls into becoming sex slaves? (Or at least spiritually destroyed and afraid to reproduce? Or afraid of any relationship?) There are Skeksis-directed big-budget 80s movies with this plot line, they were excited about it! They still are! Surely the process is improving!

No wonder the feds freaked out. The older supervisor probably saw all the posts about it: “Hey I recognize that term, that’s what we used to call it back in my day! Quick, spread the term around next to false information to discredit it! Hurry!”

[saturday-byte]

Hhhh

Also I didn't sketch over this one but I felt it necessary to out here

Im so sorry

These are incredible

Best thing that has happened to me if you might

Sorry these are so incredibly low effort I'm tired and it's early but ,, Asmo said starry does do that and it's funny to me

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 23 - Midnight

With their intended voyage into the void only a few days out, Arsay thought it the upmost importance that she steal her partner away to Kugane, that they might share one more fond memory together should things not turn out the way they plan in the thirteenth. It was as they crossed the very same bridge the miqo'te had once sat on together two years prior when Arsay gifted Y'shtola with a bracelet matching that of her own. A token of endearment which, Arsay confessed, she would have given to her fellow scion back then, had nerves not gotten the best of her. While their relationship has undoubtedly changed since the initial purchase of the jewellery, the sentiment remained the same. Y'shtola was someone who Arsay loved dearly and she will forever be grateful to have the seeker's life intertwined with her own. No matter where their free spirits took them, they would always hold each other in their hearts. A promise Y'shtola was more than willing to keep. She slipped the the string of beads around her wrist without a second thought. They were never to come off, not even when the two decided to delay their return to Radz-at-Han in favour of a private bath at the dead of night.

[disdaidal]

Someone who constantly embarks on ship wars and fandom wank... doesn't sound too mentally stable. It's sad, really.

Dedicating all that energy and free time to arguing about fictional characters and their relationships, instead of channeling it into something more relaxing or creative, sounds destructive.

Seek help, please. Before it devours you completely.