#most people focus on the things change when you realise not everything is about you line

[sisterdivinium]

One of the many cool things about language is that we will commonly absorb words and expressions from people around us, people we talk to, live with, love...

How peculiar, too, that both a miracle and a betrayal "of the highest order" have taken place. Ava is a "miracle", but so is Adriel still being alive inside that tomb, in a way; Areala "betrayed" Adriel (or vice-versa...), but so did Vincent betray the OCS.

[yooniivrse]

pottery date | myg

summary. you never expected to find pottery so difficult, so it's a good thing that your boyfriend is right there, ready to help guide you with his gentle hands.

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pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, fluff

word count: 1.1k

content: yoongi and oc goes on a pottery date / yoongi helps oc with pottery / yoongi realises how much he loves oc 🤧

warnings: they’re both very much in love, thats all 😭

a/n: this was inspired by a random tiktok. i have no idea how pottery works so i apologise if any of this is inaccurate. this ended up being shorter than my usual drabbles lol. feedback, likes, reblogs, comments and asks are all greatly appreciated!! i hope you enjoyy <33

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main masterlist

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Pottery is a lot harder than people make it out to be.

You were convinced you’d be a natural at this. After all, how hard could it be to mould some clay into a simple bowl or vase? But now, as you sit at the pottery wheel with a lopsided, uncooperative lump of clay before you, the task seems almost Herculean.

The pottery studio was a hidden gem, tucked away on a quiet street. It was a warm, relaxing place filled with the earthy smell of clay and the constant hum of pottery wheels. This place was Yoongi's idea, after revealing that he had been attending classes for the past month and had completely forgotten to tell you. You had been annoyed with him at first, but your mood instantly changed when he invited you to attend a couple’s class with him.

Now you understand why he had such a smug smile on his face when he suggested it.

You glance over at Yoongi, who sits beside your wheel. His eyes are focused, his long fingers carefully shaping the clay into a perfect cylinder. He wears a simple beige top and dark jeans under an apron tied loosely around his waist. His grown-out hair falls across his eyes in small waves, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“How are you so good at this?” you ask. He looks up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m just lucky,” he says with a small shrug. "I've also attended more classes than you, so."

"Yeah, which is totally unfair."

Yoongi chuckles. “Want some help?”

You sigh, glancing down at your creation. “Please. This thing looks like it belongs in a horror movie.”

He chuckles, wiping his hands on a damp towel before approaching your wheel. “Alright, let’s see what we can do.”

He pulls his stool closer to you and wraps his arms around yours. Your fingers intertwine on the clay, and his breath fans across the side of your face. His touch is warm and reassuring, his presence somehow making the task seem less daunting. He shifts your fingers slightly, guiding your movements with gentle precision.

“Okay, press down a little more here,” he instructs, his voice low and soothing. “And use your other hand to steady it. See? It’s all about balance.”

You follow his guidance, feeling the clay start to yield under your touch, smoothing into a proper shape. The wheel hums softly beneath your feet as you find a rhythm, the clay cool and malleable against your palms.

“There you go,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. “You’ve got it.”

You relax into his embrace and Yoongi rests his chin on your shoulder. The pleasant, citrusy scent of his perfume overtakes your senses, and for a moment, everything else seems to fade away.

It’s just the two of you, your head resting against his shoulder as you let him control most of your moves. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back and his calloused hands that gently move over yours as you mould the clay together.

“You make it look so easy,” you say, glancing sideways at him. His focus is intent, but there’s a gentle smile on his lips. You ignore the urge to place a peck on the mole that lies just beside his nose.

“It’s all about having the right teacher,” he replies, and you playfully roll your eyes.

Yoongi leans back slightly, letting you take control. You can feel his watchful eyes on you, his presence a comforting weight at your side. He remains close, offering guidance with small nudges or murmured suggestions when you falter.

Occasionally, he whispers words of praise and encouragement in that stupidly attractive voice of his and smirks to himself when he notices the flush on your skin.

As the minutes pass, you find yourself becoming more comfortable, the awkwardness melting away. The clay responds to your touch, smoothing into an even form that vaguely resembles a bowl. It’s far from perfect, of course, but it’s yours.

“Look at that,” Yoongi says, admiration in his voice. “You’re a natural.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. But it’s better than what I started with, thanks to you.”

“We make a good team,” he says with a grin, that gummy smile lighting up his face.

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Before leaving, you drag Yoongi along to the pale, wooden shelves that line the walls, displaying an array of colourful mugs and vases with unique shapes and intricate designs. You inspect them all in awe, marvelling at the ones you find pretty and keeping them in mind as inspiration for your next piece.

A small mug catches your eye. It’s coloured in a light shade of cream, with baby pink bows painted across the exterior.

“Would it be taking inspo if I just copy this design?”

Yoongi chuckles softly, stepping closer to you to take a closer look at the mug himself. “Mhm, probably.”

You let out a disappointed sigh. “It’s so pretty though.”

He watches you stare at the mug like it holds the answers to the universe, unable to help the smile that draws across his face. The butterflies in his stomach flutter around at the sight of you looking so fondly at something so mundane.

The urge to kiss you is suddenly overwhelming. He’s so close to you that he can see the few moles dotted across your face and neck, and the faint pigment of your favourite lip gloss shining on your parted lips. In fact, he’s so close that it would take little to no effort to press his mouth to yours.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he squeezes your hand for a few seconds—a secret message that you originally came up with after sensing his hesitance to PDA.

I love you.

The action pulls your gaze from the mug to Yoongi’s face, eyes slightly wide with surprise but clouded with affection, lips curling from a smile into a grin as you mimic the action.

It’s stupid how you still manage to make him feel like this after all these years of dating. He’s embarrassed by the faint warmth that envelops his cheeks, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

God, he just fell in love with you all over again.

[33piastri]

Under the influence | Lando Norris

part two: https://www.tumblr.com/33piastri/761602158807400449/under-the-influence-pt2-ln4

lando norris x reader

summary: After winning the Miami GP, lando is caught up in celebrating at a nightclub, ignoring Y/N. As he enjoys the attention, he doesn’t notice her slipping away. Only later, when it’s too late, he realised that while chasing success, he lost the person who mattered most.

Inspired by the Dutch song: onder invloed - Russo

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

The Miami night was electric, the kind of energy that made you feel invincible. Lando was at the center of it all, the hero of the night, freshly crowned the winner of the Miami GP, and more importantly his first victory. The club was packed, bodies swaying under the strobe lights, drinks flowing freely. The music pounded through the speakers, an intoxicating rhythm that matched the adrenaline still coursing through Lando’s veins.

But for all the noise and celebration around him, Lando was oblivious to the one person who had been by his side through it all—Y/N.

She was there, just like she always had been for the past 4,5 years. But tonight, she was different, quieter, almost invisible in the swirl of people around him, she felt different. She had stood at the edge of the VIP section, watching as Lando drowned in the attention, surrounded by gridmates, friends and fans, everyone eager to get a hold of his glory. But he hadn’t spared his girlfriend a glance since the race ended.

It had been the same at the track earlier that day. Y/N had watched him cross the finish line, her heart pounding with happiness, pride and fear, waiting for that moment when his eyes would seek hers, that look they used to share after every race. But it never came. Instead, he had celebrated with his team, his focus entirely on the win, on the cameras, on everything but her. Y/N learned the heart way that love and sadness, indeed could live close together.

Now, in the club, as she watched him sip on another glass of champagne, laughing with people who didn’t know him the way she did, didn’t support him like she did the sinking feeling in her chest grew heavier. The Lando she knew, the Lando she loved, seemed to be slipping further away with every cheer, every flash of the camera.

The song playing now was one that Y/N knew well, one that seemed to capture her feelings in a way that nothing else could. The lyrics cut through the noise, the truth of them hitting her hard as she listened:

“At night, she’s my dream girl, in the club she’s a baddie, at night I’m head over heels, but during the day, not at all.”

The words echoed in her mind, a cruel reminder of how things had changed. She had once been his everything, the person he turned to when the world became too much and he trusted with all his secrets. But now, she was just another pretty face in the crowd, someone to be seen with at night, when the lights were low and the music loud, but forgotten in the harsh light of day, where attention really came to play.

Lando, oblivious to the storm brewing within Y/N, turned to Charles and Daniel, a wide grin on his face. The race had been tough, but he’d pulled through, his first ever win. He felt like he was on top of the world, and tonight was his night to celebrate. Another bottle of champagne was passed his way, and he accepted it with a wink, pouring himself another glass.

But as he did, a flicker of something crossed his mind—Y/N. He hadn’t seen her since the podium, hadn’t really seen her all day, if he was honest. But before he could think about it too much, Daniel grabbed his attention, and the thought was pushed towards the back of his mind once again.

Y/N watched the exchange, her heart tightening and shattering into a thousand pieces. She had never felt more out of place, more forgotten. The realization hit her with a sharp clarity, this wasn’t where she belonged anymore. Lando was drifting further away, caught up in a world she could no longer reach. She didn’t belong with Lando anymore.

Unable to bear it any longer, she turned and slipped out of the VIP section, weaving her way through the crowd, Kika trying to stop her, but she didn’t pay her any attention. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to get out, to breathe. The walls of the club felt like they were closing in on her, the music too loud, the lights too bright.

She stepped outside, the cool Miami night air hitting her like a shock, but it wasn’t enough to clear the fog in her mind. The ache in her chest was almost unbearable, the weight of it dragging her down. She had to let go. She had to leave before she lost herself completely.

Meanwhile, inside the club, Lando was still caught up in the celebrations. But as the night wore on, something began to eat at him, a strange sense of emptiness that he couldn’t shake. He looked around again, a little more purposefully this time, searching for the one person who should have been by his side, but hadn’t been for the entire night.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked aloud, a frown creasing his brow.

Carlos shrugged, not noticing the change in Lando’s demeanor. “Dunno, mate. Haven’t seen her in a while. She’s probably around.”

But Lando knew better. There was a sudden, sharp clarity in his mind, the lyrics of the song playing in the background finally piercing through the haze.

“Under the influence, I’m no longer myself.”

The words echoed in his mind, and suddenly, the weight of the night crashed down on him. He realized he hadn’t been himself—not for a long time. He’d been caught up in the race, in the fame, in everything that came with it, and in doing so, he’d lost sight of the one thing that truly mattered.

Panic set in as he pushed through the crowd, his eyes darting around, searching for her. But she was nowhere to be found. The emptiness inside him grew, a hollow ache that no amount of victory could fill.

“Y/N!” he called out, but his voice was drowned out by the music, by the laughter and cheers that still surrounded him. Desperation clawed at him as he realized what he had done—what he had let slip right through his fingers.

Finally reaching the exit, Lando burst out into the night, his eyes scanning the street frantically. But she was gone. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, the cold truth settling in.

He had won his first ever race, but in doing so, he had lost her. The one person who had always been there, who had always believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself.

The Miami night, starting so full of life and energy, now felt empty, cold. Lando stood alone on the sidewalk, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. The taste of victory had turned bitter in his mouth.

He had been under the influence—of fame, of success, of everything but the love that had been right in front of him. And now, it was too late.

The song still played faintly from inside the club, a haunting reminder of what he had lost.

“Under the influence, I’m no longer myself…”

And for the first time in a long time, Lando felt the full impact of those words, realizing he had become someone even he no longer recognized.

[hidden-poet]

Poison: part 1

Summary: Coriolanus always hated Sejanus Plinth. He had everything that Coriolanus should of had; money, influence, and you.

Warnings: Coryo being de-lu-lu, unrequited love, Reader insert, dark!Coriolanus snow, dead dove to not eat

Word count:

AN: This is only half (maybe a quarter) The other part is coming soon. I just figured I better feed you before you start unfollowing. Life has been fucking bananas recently.

unedited so tell me if i abandoned a sentence half-way through.

Coriolanus has always hated Sejanus Plinth. Even from a young age.

Sejanus took Coriolanus' lack of harassment as a sign of friendship, and not a sign of total indifference. It bothered Coriolanus greatly, until the day it had a use. 

It ironically never made Coriolanus hate him more, the day his illusionary friendship gave him access to you. 

You were always in the same class at the Academy. Coriolanus had tried to be friends with you, but you seemed indifferent to him. You never wanted to study together, or eat together. You always had other plans for the weekend. 

Coriolanus had thought that you were hesitant to date before finishing school. It wasn’t just him that you ignored but nearly the whole cohort. The plan was fine by him. He had to focus on the Plinth prize, having you now could cause him to lose focus. 

But then you started dating Sejanus. He could have died the day you walked into school hanging off Sejanus’s arm. He always knew you had ideas. You were outspoken in class. But, Sejanus was delusional, you were just kind. Now he was poisoning you with radical ideas that left you an outcast. 

Coriolanus always defended you in social settings when your name was brought up in a negative light. All money, no brains, people would often say. It wasn’t true. Your heart was too big, and your brain, perhaps, a little small. 

He tried to shield you from being the topic of conversation amongst his friends. But you seemed to always want to be center stage.

You were loyal, it was one of the things he loved most about you. But when you stood by Sejanus when he spouted his idiotic beliefs, Coriolanus wanted to shake your shoulders until you saw sense. 

The more you damage your reputation now, the harder Coriolanus will have to work to get it back when you’re with him. And make no mistake, one day you would be with him.

Until then, he wished you would sit down and shut up. But you followed Sejanus around like a lost pup. Doing the same idiotic things, and speaking the same idiotic language. 

He would expect the same loyalty at a future date. But for now being a distant friend worked best for his goals. Reaping day was fast approaching, he never would have secured his top 24 place if all his attention had been on you. 

—------------

It was reaping day. By the end of the day, he was sure to have the prize and the girl. He had worked so incredibly hard for the grades. Never missed school, even when he was sick. Stayed late at the library, woke up early to revise. 

This was the moment his life changed. 

He would prove his worth to you. The plinth prize would be a nice opening to a conversation, you would offer your congratulations. You had to, it would be rude not to. Then he would take you out to dinner to celebrate and you would realise he’s the man you’ve been looking for. 

You were not one of the 24 top students. Coriolanus was glad. He wasn’t sure that he could challenge you. 

You arrive on the arm of Sejanus. Coriolanus watches as you greet his parents. They loved you, or perhaps the social status you bring. Either way, his mother gives you a big kiss, and his father engulfs you in his wide arms,

“Would you look at that? Who would have thought she would go for Plinth” Fetus comments. 

“Who else? The bleeding hearts of the Capitol. Who else would take them?”, Arachne jeered. 

It wound Coriolanus further up. It was already a stressful day, Arachne need not add to it.

He, he would take you, he thought.

But he couldn’t say that. Not yet. Not with your name still attached in the mud with Sejanus. 

Instead, Coriolanus jumped to your defense, “y/n is nothing like him”.

“Whatever you say. All i know is if I have to hear how immoral the games are again i’ll-”

Festus quiets as you and Sejanus draw near. It looked like Sejanus was half dragging you along, leading you by your arm that was hooked with his.

“Serjanus, you made  it to the Reaping for once”, he redirected. 

“And you made it to graduation. We are all surprised”. 

You giggle at Sejanus’s jap, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but smile along with you. 

“And Y/N, you’re here too. What an honor”, Festus tries to claw his way out of embarrassment at your expense. 

Coriolanus did not like that way Festus was talking to you. If he was your man, he wouldn’t allow it. 

“What lovely earrings”, Arachne comments with an underlying disinterest shown by her eye fluttering around the room, and her drink making its way to her mouth, mid-sentence. 

“Thank you”, you returned, but your voice was tight, and unfriendly, “They were a gift from Serjanus”. 

“Aren’t we lucky”, she mocks. 

Coriolanus never had an issue with Arachne before but now he hated her with a passion. You weren’t lucky, you deserved every nice thing in the world. Sejanus just so happens to be the one giving you them, while Coriolanus is stuck in poverty. But that all changes when they make the announcement today. 

“And Coriolanus”, she continues in the same obnoxious tone, “That’s a snazzy shirt. What are those buttons? Tesserae?”. 

He feels his face heat up from embarrassment. Arachne Crane was now his single worst enemy. 

His face and posture remain unaffected, as he looks down surprised, and twists the button up to his face. 

“Hmm, that’s why they remind me of the maids bathroom”. It would be no good to deny it. Better to play it off. Remind people of the Snow’s standing. 

He freezes when you reach out for a button and inspect it. 

“I like it. It’s pretty”, you kindly offer. 

He protected your name behind backs, and you defended his in public. It was written in the stars, you belonged to him, and him to you. 

He couldn’t get his thank you out before the music rang.

It signals the start of the ceremony. Coriolanus reaches out to touch your shoulder as you turn, his eyes staring at the glistening rubies in your ears. One day he would buy you better, more expensive rubies. 

Everyone turns to take their seats. You follow Sejanus to his, and Coriolanus follows closely behind you. If you stopped even for a second you would collide straight into him. 

Sejanus puts his bag down, before turning to you. 

“Good luck”, you whisper to him, reaching up on your toes to place a small kiss on his lips. 

“Thank you” Coriolanus whispers under his breath, pretending it was for him. 

Serjanus says nothing to you. Just looks at you with his usual sad eyes. It felt like a knife in Coriolanus' side when he bent down to place another kiss on your expecting lips. 

You go back to your seat, and the men take theirs. 

“Look Coriolanus, I know you have high hopes for this, but there is no prize today. Not anymore”, Sejanus fakes sympathy in his voice, “I am sorry”. 

“What” Coriolanus croaks. 

God, this couldn’t be happening. Not after everything he had done. Was it all for nothing? All his sacrifice to amount to more shame? How could he tell Tigres? Grandma’am would throw herself from the penthouse.

Coriolanus himself wanted to die when Dean Highbottom announced his tribute. That girl was never going to win. It was sabotage. Highbottom made his final play. 

When the ceremony ended, Coriolanus felt frozen in his spot. Serjanus felt the same. While everyone else went off to join the feast, they both stood frozen in front of their chairs. 

From the corner of his eye he could see you push your way through the crowd of people over to where the men stood. As soon as you were in reach your arms flung out to Sejanus.

“Baby, I am so sorry”, you console, “everything is going to be okay”.

Everything was not going to be okay. How was he going to turn that girl into a victor? She was mentally unstable, underfed. No brains, or strength that he could work with. 

He wanted nothing more than to feel your arms around him, but they were wrapped around Serjanus. 

“He was my classmate, y/n”, Sejanus broke. 

You shake your head, joining him in his sorrow. 

“My father brought him for me. I know it”, Sejanus barks. 

Coriolanus watches as your lips press to his arm. His heart twist. That should be his arm. The plinth prize should have been his money. 

He storms off, unable to watch you as you console the wrong man. 

He forces nice as he makes his way through the crowd to the back entrance. All he needed was fresh air, and sit in his emotions. Then he could form a plan to make that girl a winner. 

When he got there, he found his head was empty of everything but panic. Tigres was counting on him bringing the Plinth money home. Where would they live? Could they delay the taxes until Coriolanus won the Hunger games? How could they ask for an extension without giving away the Snow’s misfortune. 

His head hit the brick pillar when he heard high heels echoing down the quiet corridor. Quickly standing tall again, he leans forward and is met with pleasant surprise when he saw you coming towards him. 

“Y/n, are you okay?”, Coriolanus asked. It was the first time in a long time that he hadn’t seen Sejanus by your side.

“I came to ask you that”, you return. You worrying about him made his heart flutter.

“I’ve been better”, he admits, “That girl won’t win”. 

“None of them ever win”, you protest, 

“Here, before it’s all gone”, you offer him a plate of food which he accepts gratefully. 

He regrets skipping breakfast this morning even if it was boiled potato. 

“Where is Serjanus?”, he asks. He was beginning to think Sejanus had super glued you together. 

“He’s gone. He couldn’t bear looking at his father”. You are quiet while Coriolanus eats. You stare at the wall in front of you in contemplation. 

“He’s not going to be able to train that boy. He couldn’t even talk about it”, you looked upset. 

Your eyes watered, but your voice was angry. 

Serjanus got pick of the litter. If he couldn’t make that boy a winner, than he didn’t deserve to win. 

“Spectacles? They want children dying to be some sort of game?”, you continue. 

Coriolanus closes his eyes. After the day he has had the last thing he wants is to hear your misguided viewpoint on the games. 

“Whinging about it won’t change the fact”, he sighed. 

Any other time he would have pretended to agree, but the eviction notice laying on the kitchen table hung in his mind. 

“It’s unfair to you too. You would have won if they played fair. You deserved to win”, you say softly after a moment. 

“Thank you”, his voice matched your soft tone in earnest appreciation of your sympathy for all he was robbed. 

A louder voice broke the moment of connection. 

“Y/N as lovely as always” it rang through the empty hallway. 

“Dean Highbottom”, you greet. 

“Would you mind terribly leaving me to talk to our star pupil?”, Highbottom offers you a kind smile for consideration. 

You shake your head no, much to Coriolanus' disappointment. 

“I was just leaving” you comment. 

Coriolanus reaches out, taking your arm in his hold, “wait, I’ll see you home”. 

Coriolanus had received a sword from Festus for his birthday, which he promptly returned for cash. He had planned to save it for the next birthday party he was invited to, but it was worth it to have a few minutes alone without Serjanus hovering near. 

“Serjanus sent me a car. I’ll see you at school tomorrow”. You give his arm a tap before going back into the ceremony hall to make your way to the front entrance. 

“Dean” you nod as you walk past him. 

Nothing but your heels on the concrete are heard until the heavy slam of a door cuts them off. 

Dean Highbottom was waiting for you to leave before talking. He started almost simultaneously with the door closing again. 

“Best friends girl, hey? Here I was thinking you wouldn’t get anymore like your father’.

“My father?” Coriolanus questioned. 

“Oh, Yes. He and I were once best friends too. You both like to take things that aren’t yours”.

“I haven’t taken anything”, Coriolanus said defensively. 

“Hm, but you will, won’t you? When the first opportunity arises”.

It was true. He often hoped that Serjanus would make a mistake that would leave an opportunity to swoop in. Perfect Serjanus never did. 

“But what’s stopping you now?” Highbottom provoked, “Worried that she has district values, but Capitol taste?”.

It stuck a cord in Coriolanus that he tried to cover. Dean Highbottom grinned knowing it too. 

“Beautiful earrings she was wearing, maybe Tigres could make her a dress out of another one of your fathers old shirts?”. 

Dread pooled in Coriolanus’s stomach. He tried so incredibly hard to maintain appearances. If Highbottom knew, who else? Was everyone laughing at the Snows behind his back? 

“What exactly are you implying? I wanted to honor my father by wearing his shirt”. 

Highbottom scoffs at the lie. 

“Prideful. Another trait of your fathers”. Highbottom steps forward to Coriolanus, hands clasped together in an air of superiority. 

“I know the Snow’s don’t have a pot to piss in. I know that you’ve had your poor little heart broken by Miss Y/N’s interest in Serjanus, and I know you don’t stand a chance at the Plinth prize you so covet”. 

Coriolanus felt like throwing up the few bites of food he had. The Dean reveled in the young boy's misery. Coriolanus had never seen him smile outside of a morphline high. 

“Good luck with that little songbird of yours” he taunted as he walked away. 

Coriolanus swallowed the lump in his throat. It wasn’t over, just a minor bump in the road. The district 12 girl didn’t have to be special. Coriolanus was smart enough to make a victor out of nobody. 

He would find a way to win. After all, Snow lands on top. 

—---------------------------------------

The trip to the train station was a good place to start. At least Coriolanus found out that Lucy-Gray was a performer like him. 

He could work with a performer. Highbottom, said himself, winning is only one consideration of the prize. 

Getting thrown in with the tributes, and having his image cast out on Capitol television was not the plan, but he could twist it in his favor. 

His ankle had wedged between two rocks as he fell, slowing him down as he made his way to class. If it wasn’t the only class that he sat next to you, he would have skipped it now that the plinth prize didn’t concern grades. 

It was his favorite class, even if Dean Highbottom taught it. Normally, the classrooms sat students in groups of two. You, of course, always chose Serjanus. Leaving Coriolanus with Clemmie. But Highbottoms class required an open field of student contributions, meaning that Serjanus could have one side, and Coriolanus could have the other. 

It was almost over by the time Coriolanus got there, but he wouldn’t give it up. 

“Your little excursion was in violation of about five different Academy rules, Mr Snow. Chief amongst them, endangering a Capitol student”, Highbottom dralled from his seat. 

He could see you in the stands, and began climbing them to reach you as quickly as he could with his sore ankle. 

“What, who?”. The accusation almost stopped him in his tracks, but you had shifted your school bag to empty a seat for him. 

“You”, answered Highbottom, “I am moving for the Gamemakers to disqualify you as a mentor immediately”. 

He finally reaches you only to see you holding Serjanus’s hand under the table. 

“Coriolanus, are you okay?”, he heard you whisper as he sat down next to you. 

“Fine”, he acknowledged with a soft smile before returning to his argument with Highbottom. 

“You said we had to get our tributes to preform, not stay away”, Coriolanus quipped. 

“I’ll add insubordination as well”. Coriolanus rolled his eyes at the comment.

‘Holding her hand, Coryo?” Arachne chimed in. Coriolanus' blood turned cold. He was hoping that you wouldn’t find out. You hated Lucky Flickerman so he counted on you missing his nightly recap, but he had not counted on Arachne spewing her poison. 

“You make it look like we are one and the same with those animals”. 

“Coriolanus didn't show anyone anything they didn’t already know”. 

The only good thing about Serjanus jumping to defend Coriolanus was that he let go of your hand to do so. 

“Deep down people already know that winning a war ten years ago doesn’t justify the games”, Serjanus remarks. 

“Snow fell down in the cage, but it landed on…” Dr Gauls sing-songy voice was heard at the top of the auditorium. It was a welcomed change that took the focus off Coriolanus. 

“Stage”, he finished for her. He felt you take a sharp breath next to him. He wanted to reach out in comfort but Dean Highbottom had his eyes sharply trained on Coriolanus. 

“You’re good at games. Maybe one day you’ll be a gamemaker like me”. Dr Gaul stood tall, and scary above the students. Still in her lab coat, and frizzy hair. One of the few people in the Capitol to not care about appearances. Or maybe, she uses her intimidating appearance to her advantage. 

“If the games continue at all”, Highbottom announced. 

‘Oh, they’ll continue with performances like Mr Snow’s”. 

“Serjanus is right. People are waking up to the fact that the games are nothing more than a brutish display of power”. The sound of your voice speaking up against Dr Gaul made Coriolanus’s heart beat faster. He reaches out to take your knee in a tight holding. Trying to tell you to shut up. 

“What a pair you two make. Tell me what are the games for?” Dr Gaul asks mockingly. 

Coriolanus spoke in your place. Trying to shield you from Dr Gauls focus. 

“They’re to punish the districts for their uprising. To commemorate the end of the-”

“Commemorate the-dull-dull-dull”, Dr Gaul interrupts, “why not drop bombs? Cancel food shipments? Why games?”. 

“Shouldn’t we be asking ourselves whether they are right in the first place?” Serjanus jumps right back in as soon as Coriolanus had settled the waves. 

“Problem with my games?”Dr Gauls eyes went back to you as you sat up straighter in your seat. 

“Punishing children who had nothing to do with the war protects no one”, you seeth. 

Coriolanus’s hand remains on your knee. You had made no attempt to brush him off. Maybe, you found a comfort in his touch, as he found a comfort in yours, Coriolanus thinks. 

“How fortunate Y/n that you were not chosen as one of the 24. Serjanus may need your support as he completes his mentoring assignment. A crying shoulder is still a shoulder to cry on”. 

You jump up from your seat, and Coriolanus follows to protect you from the line of fire. 

“Dean Highbottom is wrong. My classmate too” he gets out before you, “Maybe Sejanus and Y/n is onto something here. You saw those kids at the zoo, they just wanted to get to know Lucy-Gray. We should make the stakes personal. Allow the Capitol to view them as human”. 

“Who would watch the games if they care about what happens to the tributes?”, Dr Gual questioned. 

You sat back down with the question. Deflated by the betrayal. 

“Everyone” Corilanus answers looking at you, “If they thought that the tribute they cared about stood a chance”. 

His eyes flicker back to Dr Gual as he spoke to find that she was engaged with what he had to say. 

“People need someone to root for and against. We need them to invest. And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we could even have them place bets’, Coriolanus continued. 

“You wouldn’t even bet on your tribute”, you snapped from your chair. 

You were right with the little money he did have he wouldn’t be wasting it on the long-shot of lucy-gray, but he had to show you he valued her like you wanted him too. 

“Look I know Lucy-Gray may not win in the arena”, he spoke to you but you remained stoic, looking at the chair in front of you. Impressing you was long gone, his attention went back to Dr Gaul who held his future in her hands. 

“But I would bet the Plinth Prize that she can win people’s attention. I just need a chance”. 

Dr Gaul soaked up his suggestion. All he needed now was her approval. 

“I want you, and Y/n to write up these thoughts tonight on how we can see tributes as human and use it to boost ratings. With your mind for business, and her for”, Dr Gaul sucks her teeth, trying to find a fitting word, “theatrics. You’ll make quite the team”.  

You shook your head no but Coriolanus was thrilled at the opportunity to complete an assignment with you. He was sure all he needed was some time alone with you to break you free from Sejanus. 

“Wait”, Clemmisa spoke up, “Coriolanus, and I do all our assignments together. Y/n and Sejanus are classpartners they should do the assignment together. And Coriolanus, and I will do ours”.

Coriolanus had always valued Clemmisa due to her intelligence and hard working attitude but now he wished for something terrible to happen to her. 

“You and Coriolanus will have to do it alone. Y/N and I want nothing to do with it” Sejanus spat. 

His hand reached out to cover the knee that Coriolanus had previously touched. 

Dr Gaul laughed. “Far be it for me to break up the love birds”. 

The bell rang ending the class. You were the first to leave. Not taking your textbooks or bag. Sejanus ran out after you, but Coriolanus knew the importance of composure. 

Dr Gaul watched as Coriolanus packed up your books for you but he acts as if he doesn’t notice. 

When he is forced to look up as he turns down the steps, she is still watching him with a sly smile. 

He finds you in the cafeteria, speaking angrily to Sejanus who lets you vent. 

Your eyes speak of your anger as he approaches to sit down. 

“I got your books for you”, Coriolanus tried to start small. 

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about exploiting that poor girl?”, you snap as the books are placed in front of you. 

“Exploiting? You think they’ll give those kids a scrap  if we don’t give them a reason to do it? We can change the game. Give them a chance, or at least give them a less painful experience before death”. Coriolanus snaps back. 

Sejanus drops the fork he was holding, using his hand to instead rub the bottom of his face. You reach out to the back of his shoulders and run your fingernails across in comfort.

“He was my classmate back in two”, Sejanus explains. 

“I am sorry”, Coriolanus says, although he doesn’t mean it. 

Marcus was strong. Tall with a muscular build. He could be a winner. Coriolanus was stuck with the runt of the group. She was no killer. Small, under fed. She would be the undoing of the Snow family. 

“My father brought him for me, you know? Just so he could show me that I could never go back to 2”.

“It’s not your fault”, you console, but Sejanus seemed annoyed at your attempt.

He laughs bitterly in your face, “Oh I know. I am so blameless I am choking on it”. 

Coriolanus felt his eye twitch. If he had you, he would never even think of speaking to you that way. How could Sejanus not know that you were above him? Above everyone. 

Coriolanus would only speak to you kindly. Only sounds of praise would leave his lips to you. 

Sejanus was unworthy to even look in your direction, yet all you did was stare at him. 

Coriolanus was about to reprimand him, but Sejanus continued to speak, stealing Coriolanus’ spotlight.  

“I hate to think of him like this,” Sejanus uttered. 

Coriolanus was a man of action. Sejanus spoke of his disappointment, but Coriolanus already had multiple plans to best play his hand. He takes your napkin from your tray, and food from Sejanus’s plate to show you this. 

“So do something about it”, Coriolanus demands. 

—----------------

When you asked to go with Coriolanus to the Zoo, he was surprised. 

It was less surprising when you met him at the entrance with a large picnic basket, and Sejanus hand.

“Coryo”, Sejanus greeted in a tone that made Coriolanus skin crawl. 

“Sejanus, Y/n”, Ciriolanus grits through his teeth. 

“We brought food for everyone”, you say, lifting up your basket to show. 

“I am sure that would be appreciated”

Coriolanus watches you as you go to the fence with a careful eye. 

A male tribute comes closer to your outstretched hand and takes the sandwich offered. 

He doesn’t move away choosing to tear into his food like an animal under your stare. 

“Y/n, get away from the fence”, Coriolanus demands. 

You roll your eyes, but do take a step back from the fence line. So Coriolanus turns his attention back to Lucy-Gray. 

“That your girl?”, Lucy-Gray asks, tearing into her own food. 

Coriolanus swallowed the lump in his throat. He so desperately wanted to say yes, but Sejanus was near, and PDA prone. 

“It’s complicated”, he says instead. 

“Yeah, it's complicated back home too. She seems nice though”. 

“Look”, Coriolanus redirects in a harsh tone, “We need to think about your strategy for the games. I might be able to get the audience to send you gifts in the arena. Food, water, things to keep you going. You just have to try singing again. Win people over.”

“I don’t sing when I am told. I sing when I have something to say.”

His only hope of winning the games was slipping through his fingers. Overlapping with Sejanus calling for Marcus on the other side. 

Coriolanus sighs deeply, his hand tightening around the bars. 

“Besides, what's the point? I’ve seen your area there’s nowhere to hide”, she continued. 

His eyes burn in his skull. He was trying to help her. She had one thing going for her, and she refused to do it. All she had to do was play puppet for Coriolanus and he would ensure her survival, for the sake of his own. 

“The guards say you get money if you get more people to watch, and you say you want to help me. Which is it?”, Lucy-gray asks. 

“Both”, Coriolanus answers. 

There were only two criteria for the test.  Getting people engaged, and keeping your tribute alive. 

His eyes turned trying to find you. He was sure just one look at you and he would be grounded again. You had a calming effect on him that he loved. 

When they find you, it only deepens his rage. You were back on the fence, loading Reaper with sandwiches and plums. He could reach out and harm you at any given second. 

He storms over to where you were explaining what was on the sandwich, and snatches you back from the collar of your uniform jacket. 

He leads you backwards to his spot in front of Lucy-gray. Only letting you go when you were safely positioned next to him. He wanted to reach out and hold your hand to keep you in place, but there were too many eyes for such a display. 

His hands are shoved in his pocket to stop him from doing so. 

“Well, who must this be”, Lucy-gray exclaimed with more enthusiasm than normal for a woman in her position. 

You straighten your jacket, giving Coriolanus a dead glare before turning your attention to Lucy-gray. 

“y/n” you reach through the bars to shake Lucy-Grays hand, and Coriolanus felt no need to interfere. He knew she would never hurt you. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get her to hurt the people planning to kill her. 

“Pleasure”, Lucy-Gray returns. 

‘I am so sorry they are doing this to you”, you offer, “it isn’t right. If there’s anything I can do”.

“You could give me one of those sandwiches. Jessup, and I haven’t eaten since the train”.

“Oh, of course”. 

Lucy-gray calls for Jessup as you hand out the sandwiches and plums to them. 

“If there’s one thing I learned back in twelve, it’s that hunger is a weapon”, Lucy-gray nods to her left, “Your friend there sure knows it”. 

In unison with Coriolanus you turn to see Archure tormenting her tribute with a bottle of soda. 

“She is not our friend. She is poison with perfect teeth”, Coriolanus snorts. 

You laugh and he feels a swell of pride go through him. 

“I’ll continue handing these out” you say, lifting the basket of food up, “I’ll see you soon Lucy-gray”. 

His tribute nods back with a friendly smile. 

“Stay away from the fence”, Coriolanus demands again. 

“Yep” you dismiss. 

“She seems nice”, Lucy-Grey comments. 

Coriolanus sucks his teeth in response, “She’s perfect”. 

“No one is perfect, but she’s too nice to be Capitol. That’s for sure”. 

They both watch as you continue handing out more food between the fence. You took his warning and remained at a safe distance. It was no more than feeding the animals at the zoo, and you were safe so Coriolanus turned his attention back to lucy-grey. 

“Well, she is perfect, and she is Capitol”. The mere thought of you being suggested to be anything otherwise almost made Coriolanus pray for Lucy-greys downfall in the arena. But he needed her to stay alive so he could carve out a comfortable future for you both. 

He eyes scan for you to see you nearing Achane. Your face twists up, ready to scold her. It happens in a flash, her tribute grabs Achane by her neck scarf, and smashes the bottle into a jagged end. 

His fear is caught in his throat. His mind screamed for you to move away but he couldn’t make the sound. 

The bottle enters the throat of Achane and his fight response returns, while yours remains frozen. 

“NO, no, no” Coriolanus panics,sure you would be the next victim. 

He races over, tugging at your waist to bring you down, and throwing his body over yours. He could feel you breathing, which meant you were still alive. 

The sound of gunfire, and the pressure of the bullets as they shot through the air had him hunking down on you. Pressing you between the ground and him as hard as he could. 

His head presses against the side of yours, he only lifts it to see the dead tribute slumped against the fence. 

Your body shook under his from the fright. He got to be your big protector while Sejanus stood frozen on the other side of the cage. 

When the Peacekeepers came, Coriolanus didn’t need much persuading to vacate the premises. When they neared enough to cause the other alive tributes to back away from the fence, Corioanus stood up, and pulled you off the ground. 

He made careful efforts to keep you faced away from the dead tribute, shielding your eyes with his hand, and keeping your head pressed against his shoulder as you were escorted out. 

The Peacekeepers leave you outside of the gates. It was late afternoon, approaching night. The sky had very little light, and no one was around. 

He sits you next to him on the curb, allowing you to cry into him. He holds you protectively still. One hand cradled your head into him, and the other weaved itself around your frame. 

Despite the circumstances, he was enjoying himself. Your hands were wrapped around his waist, almost in fear that he would tear himself from you. 

As if he would ever pass up an opportunity to act more than friends. 

Testing the limits, he turned his head so his lips were pressed onto your forehead. He wish he had the courage to place a gentle kiss, but he was sure you would react poorly. 

You were loyal to a fault to Sejanus. You would take it as a sign of disrespect to your relationship. And Coriolanus supposed that would be the way he intended it. 

He heard Sejanus’s footsteps before his voice calling out for you. 

You shoot your head up almost as if it was a command, but don’t move your body out of coriolanus’s hold. 

“Are you alright?” Sejanus asks, crouching down in front of you. His hand reaches out to be gently placed on your arms. Coriolanus doesn't release his hold, bringing you instinctively closer. 

“No thanks to you”, Coriolanus snaps, “what were you thinking letting her do this?”. 

The fault lies entirely on Sejanus. He should have stopped your foolish thoughts, not encouraged them. He could have got you killed. 

“Sejanus, Achane’s dead”, you sob. 

Corionaus hated that you witnessed such a thing. Even during the dark days you were sheltered. Now you were mixed up with a district boy who only knew violence, and stupidity. 

Yet, you flung yourself out of Coriolanus’s hold and into Sejanus’s waiting arms. 

He holds you in a similar fashion to Coriolanus, while Coriolanus sits on the dirty curb watching. 

“Thank you, Coryo. For getting her out of there”, Sejanus says. 

Somehow Sejanus had forged his way back to hero. You clung around his neck, digging your face into his crook. 

It should be Coriolanus. But he’ll go home with an empty stomach and wallet, and a broken heart. A district animal had snatched his girl from his fingertips. 

Hastily, Coriolanus rises from the curb, straightening his ruined jacket, and peering down at the couple. 

“Just get her home”, Coriolanus remarks. 

He leaves into the fleeting sky, feeling a see-saw of emotions. On one hand he had got to hold you for what must have been at least ten minutes, and there was one less tribute for his tribute to compete with. 

On the other hand, tonight you would stay with Sejanus, and the dead tribute may lead to some disastrous ramifications. 

By the time he reached his ruined home, he only thought of you in Sejanus’s bed. Your parents wouldn’t let him stay in the house, no matter how rich. They hated the districts more than anyone. Your parents will be so relieved when you bring him home. When he would retire to your room, they wouldn’t bat an eye. They might even offer a ‘goodnight, son’.

As he held Tigres upon delivering the news of the zoo, he thought again back to the curbside. You didn’t pull away immediately to Sejanus. You were hesitant, almost. Some part of you must know you belong to him. 

Tigres pulls back from him, halting her tears as Grandma’am called them to the table to ask what happened. 

Grandma’am took the news of the death easier than Tigres, who Coriolanus was still comforting. 

“This is how it begins. The war” Grandma’am gasps. 

“It was Sejanus’ fault. He let them get too close to the tributes. Mine too. I had my eye on y/n, but I should have looked out for Arachne too”. 

“That girl’s lucky that your little songbird didn’t peck out her eyes too! Dizzy girl, running around with that district boy” Grandma’am yelled. 

Coriolanus feels as Tigres shift. He moves his arm from across the back of her chair to up to her shoulder. 

“Sejanus, Grandma’am”, Tigres reminds. 

“What does it matter? They are all savages, one and all. They will use you, you must use them”, 

Her words resonate with Coriolanus who mentally maps out his essay to Dr Gual. When he gets to his room, he lays down on the bed and presses his hardest pillow against his side. 

He writes on a piece of old wood, imaging you pressed against him as you recovered from your day. 

part 2 coming soon! (Maybe)

[azure-cherie]

20 things I've learned as i turn 20

My birthday is in a few days though i like to keep it private I'd like to share some of my thoughts 😁 the things I've learned are mostly based off my experiences

Individuality: one can be a loner in life but that doesn't guarantee a thing about individuality, to learn it one has to be in uncomfortable places and do uncomfortable things only to realise oh that is my thing and i must pursue , though we keep acquiring things from here and there all our lives but it's our zest that makes it ours .

Don't be afraid to move alone, stay alone or do things alone , I'm still working on it and the most important part is people are so busy they don't even care what you are doing, only a pathetic person jokes about you being lonely and doing things on your own

You are watching self help but are you applying it ?? With so much information available one can often get lost in comparison and be confused about thing , to try things is a better way to decide whether we should listen to someone , most of the times people don't even know what they're saying always ask yourself before following someone's advice .

Only give someone something when you are genuinely having an excess in your life , give from what you have extra , or else you'll end up feeling empty and sad because you gave them from your part, for example : there's a friends birthday and you don't have excess to give them a gift just skip the party or give them something hand made like cards , gifts or bake cookies , if they really love you they will appreciate you and only such people are worth having around , same with your time , only make time for others when you have done everything for yourself.

Don't fall into the trap , boundaries are tangible, don't be like " oh I had such a good day my best friend is crying but my boundary is to not care i live my good life" shut up this girl right here was there for you when you needed someone we often lose our way then the people around us need to bring us to the right path , you need people around you remember. Please do this only if the other person does the same for you .

It's okay to not like anyone around you : Darwin said survival of the fittest and we mostly stay in competition with people , so it's okay to not like everyone don't ghost them because you find one thing annoying, they have good things you can look out for , focus on the good .

Give yourself and others the space : don't seem needy or desperate because you had a fight with someone or just a problem with yourself, perspectives come with time , you and they need it if it's meant to be things will be alright

It's okay to lose things , we get tired of things and people and situations and it's fine if it's worth you can fight for it but if you are staying only because of attachment it doesn't take long till it wears off , get ready for the new chapter of your life

It's okay to win , personally I realised I have been afraid of winning and that's why I don't. when you are young you can be programmed to feel like a loser but know that life keeps changing you can win if you believe it .

You don't need to fix everything about you : ahh please please don't give up on good things just because you thing you are yet to heal , no you're good go for it if you feel like it , moreover something's are just not worth it to fix or heal , simple changes can accomodate.

People who love you will accommodate for you and it goes both ways , you have to belive in the power of you and everyone around you and sometimes bend when you need to

What is not worth bending is your values , when you know something is right do what is right regardless , be the right person to yourself by doing what is right to you .

Don't worry about being a good or bad person , it doesn't matter in the long run , a narcissist thinks they're the best and an anxious person thinks they're the worst but we know what's the truth , sometimes in life you have to do bad things but that doesn't make you a bad person , you need to survive in this world things aren't cheap we suffer from capitalism and mind games , do what you need to get a good life for you and your closed ones , we'll talk about the bad deeds in hell and even god will see what you have done and why you have done it , intentions matter .

Keep a balance of experiences and consequences, don't lose out of an experience because you worried about the consequences too much and don't do something that you will regret because you didn't think about the consequences of your actions.

Never tell one person everything, don't vent to everyone , the more you vent the more possibility you have of your personal information getting leaked as a gossip, if you tell different people about different issues you can know when they betray you and dismiss the rumour and cut them off and know that some people are just better at advice in different sectors like you wouldn't ask a logical person who's invested in financial topics about your emotional turmoil it will only disappoint.

Keep your spiritual practices private , don't do something because everyone is , people like to mock , put bad energy or evil eye on perfectly fine things , it's only protection to keep your practices private or anonymous on the internet . Do some spiritual practice because you feel connected to it not because everyone is , don't follow the crowd look within yourself. This applies to deity work , magic or manifestation.

Learn about money and finances and investment, Acquire skills it's only right when you know enough about these things as they create the foundation of your life here, learn about it young so you don't suffer when older . learn everything that you can don't be afraid to be a first timer one day you'll be a pro at it and you'll thank yourself that you were a first timer , try everything you can .

Don't worry about defining yourself, you're constantly changing and that's the beauty of you , you can know who you are and you have to relearn who you are in every era of life .

Be happy for what your parents have done and forgive for what they didn't, this can be hard but don't let them be another obstacle for you to not reach your highest self it's best to forgive and move on , it's also their First time as a person learning about living.

Love yourself unconditionally, last but not the least the most important, forgive yourself, accept the ways you have changed , do things for yourself, practice all 5 love languages on yourself, give yourself the love .

I have learnt so much more and hope you do too , love you so much 🤍

Thanks for reading<33

[jinnie-ret]

hellevator

stray kids x ninth member male!reader

genre: angst, fluff

content warnings: implied anxiety, implied disassociating

word count: 2.1k

summary: he's going through voice changes in their debut era and fans are already sending in hate

Requested: anon!

This is my first male!reader fic so please be kind, I hope you enjoy! <3

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He was so excited to finally be a part of something, not that he had been training for long. But when Bang Chan told him he saw potential in him, despite their 6 year age gap, and recognised how well he got on with the other members, he was quickly added onto the line up for Stray Kids.

During the survival show, Y/N was babied, of course he was, the maknae in the upcoming JYP boy group. Fans of the show fauned over his fluffy black hair and the oversized hoodies he'd wear, making him look smaller. It was similar to how Jeongin was babied too, the two of them being the youngest and seen to have that sweet, innocent air around them. Plus, for Y/N's case, his voice hadn't broken yet at the age of 14, so that fed more into how he was perceived by fans.

However, it was not long after the group had finally debuted that a more mature, deeper voice had overcome him. Of course, not without the struggles of getting used to it. Originally singing the chorus of District 9 wasn't difficult, in fact it was easy. His gorgeous, husky tone was unique yet when he hit those high notes his voice was instantly recognisable. Now, he had to deal with voice cracks, and the rapidly depleting self-esteem that came along with it. This is what he trained to do after all.

"You're getting stressed out. We need to practice getting your voice in a position where it can hit those high notes again. It's not going to help if you're standing there thinking you can't do it," the vocal teacher sighed, putting down her sheets of the lyrics Y/N had been singing.

She was firm, yes, but she was being kind about the situation too. She has coached many that had gone through the same thing as Y/N, and all she wanted to do was to see him succeed, but he couldn't see things through her eyes, that was far too big of a mountain to climb for him. A treacherous journey to realising not everything is one dimensional.

Y/N could only focus on those last four words. 'You can't do it'. And he hated the way that everything suddenly felt hot, and how his throat itched. How his neck itched. He started subconsciously scratching lightly at his neck, feeling the stress flood through his body. He scratched away at the thing he wanted to change most, knowing he couldn't turn back time and have things stay the way they were.

All the comments he had read, all the whispers he had heard, circulating in his brain, like an endless loop of vicious words to bring him down. He would be the reason Stray Kids would fail, they had said. He wasn't good enough, they had said. It all came from jealous trainees that were bitter they didn't get to debut instead of him. The only failure apparent in this situation was Y/N realising that.

"I need some air," Y/N barely managed to speak as he rushed out of the small practice room, tugging at the strings of his hoodie and making his way outside.

Fresh air.

Just breathe, Y/N.

And he managed to do so, not without his mind taking him to another place as he stared up at the JYP sign on the building. Was he meant to be here? Did he deserve to be here when his talents were no longer there? Y/N just couldn't see it the same way anymore, he couldn't see himself the same way anymore when the thing he had been praised for so deeply had changed. Even the people who had supported him before had changed their opinions, because his growth had shattered the image they had of him.

Y/N was unaware of the familiar presence beside him, one that had playfully called out his name before realising something was wrong. He was gently guided back into the building, and swiftly surrounded by the warmth of the 3RACHA studio.

"Hyungs! I found Y/N but he's not talking to me," Jisung's voice quivered as he himself was now feeling worried about his dongsaeng.

Changbin took Jisung aside, hushing him and reassuring him that he did the right thing, whilst Chan took it upon himself to understand what was happening to his youngest brother.

"Hey, hey, you're ok, come on, look at me," Chan spoke quietly, yet he managed to break through Y/N's mind as the younger looked around the studio.

"I shouldn't even be here," Y/N shook his head, voice monotonous. Just being there upset him further, yet he still fought against everything within him to show that side.

"What do you mean? This is our studio of course you're allowed in here, I mean, I know Channie likes his own space sometimes but this is different," Changbin moved to stand in front of Y/N too, having successfully calming Han, "hey, no no no don't float away again, I need you to listen," Changbin forced Y/N to sit down in the sofa. Han automatically wrapped his arms around the younger, wanting to do his best to show he was there for his fellow member.

"What's going on Y/N? Your vocal teacher said you just ran out of the building. She was waiting another 45 minutes until Seungmin turned up for his lesson because she couldn't find you," Chan sighed as he sat down in his chair, opposite the distressed boy.

"I bet Seungmin was much better than me," Y/N mumbled, but even with that, throat thick in emotion, his voice cracked yet again. Flustered that it had happened yet again, Y/N's fist came down against his own leg, huffing in frustration.

"Yah yah, don't do that!" Han frowned, pulling Y/N's arms away from him.

"I'm just so frustrated!" Y/N spoke through gritted teeth, looking up at the ceiling to keep his tears at bay.

"About what?" Changbin prompted Y/N further but he just stayed quiet.

"You need to tell us ok, we're your hyungs, we want to know what's going on, we need to know," Chan moved closer, resting his hand on Y/N's knee.

"My stupid voice," Y/N whispered, embarrassed to admit it.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"What about it?"

"Ever since it's broken, you know, gotten deeper, I just sound stupid when I try singing, it's embarrassing, I mean, it makes sense when they say I shouldn't even be in the group anymore, I-" Y/N opened the gates to his mind as his mini ramble began and was quickly cut off.

"Who said that..." Changbin frowned deeply.

"Stays, other trainees," Y/N threw his hands up in the air, just done with the whole situation.

"Trainees are saying it too?!" Han gasped, looking at Chan and Changbin worriedly, a hint of malice in his eyes as he thought about all of those around them that still acted like their friends.

"Y/N they're just jealous, you can't listen to what they say," Chan began, sighing once more as he ran his fingers through his hair, somewhat at a loss of how to reassure Y/N anymore.

"Easier said than done. Why did you even have me join this group when, when... when I was just going to make us fail!" Y/N exploded, pushing himself up from the sofa and out of Han's arms, away from Changbin's concerned glances and especially away from Chan's words which went in one ear and out the other straight away.

It wasn't long until he found what he thought was an empty practice room, not noticing the bags of his other hyungs that were for once tucked away neatly in the corner of the room. He found solace in the emptiness and allowed himself to collapse to his knees, breaking down into tears of frustration, sadness and all the other emotions he kept pent up.

The rest of Stray Kids returned from a small snack break at the vending machine, all going together of course, you wouldn't find one Stray Kid without another, even this early on in their time of being together.

"Hey hey hey, aegi, what's going on? Omo..." Lee Know gasped as he saw the baby of the group shaking and sobbing. He ran up to Y/N and wrapped his arms around him, the other members astonished until 3RACHA ran in and finally found Y/N after hearing the commotion.

They began to explain what happened to Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin whilst Felix sat down in front of Y/N to help calm him down, brushing his hair out of his face and rubbing his leg soothingly. He tried his best to listen to Y/N at first but due to his growing knowledge of Korean not being up to par with Y/N's incoherent sobs, it was easier to stick to physical affection. You could say Y/N was in a Lee sandwich, the best place he could be right now.

"Can't... Shouldn't..." Y/N sobs soon calmed down and the rest of his members gathered around him in a semicircle, Minho still hugging him from behind. Yes, he could come across as cold and brash sometimes, but no one could tell you just how soft Minho really was apart from his members. They knew him the best.

"Y/Nnie... please you have to listen to us, you're in this group for a reason," Hyunjin patted his knee from beside him.

"T-they didn't say anything about Jeongin's voice when his broke!" Y/N exclaimed, pain clearly still there, tired of all the judgement he had been receiving. He wasn't able to listen to his hyungs right now.

And the boys go quiet not knowing what to say back to Y/N, they were sure he didn't mean to offend Jeongin but it didn't stop Seungmin from patting his shoulder in support.

"Not, not, oh gosh not that I wanted Jeonginnie hyung to get hate I'd never want that for my hyungs I just..." Y/N put his face into his hands, feeling bad as if he has indirectly insulted his hyung, just because he was feeling hurt. From behind him, Minho hugged him tighter, whispering in his ear to try and gain his attention.

"It's ok, I know you didn't mean it like that," Jeongin smiles from across him, and Y/N could tell it was a genuine one.

"Look, our vocal teacher said something to me earlier about what was going on, she was worried about you, she thought she said something wrong," Seungmin trailed off, trying to get to the bottom of the matter.

"No she was actually really nice about it, it was just too much of a reality check and then my mind just took control and... Ugh I don't even know," Y/N came to a realisation that his vocal teacher wasn't being rude to him and it was all these overwhelming feelings that had built up and caught him out.

"Just take a moment, yeah, and think, would I have added you to this group if I didn't think you had the talent, had the potential," Chan rose an eyebrow, firmly talking to Y/N to make sure he understood what he was saying.

"Or his personality, personality is important too," Felix piped up, not wanting Y/N to feel like his worth was only reduced down to one thing.

"Of course it is, but that isn't what this is about right now, answer me, Y/N," Chan nodded to Felix before looking back at his upset member.

"N-no..." Y/N stuttered, realising the depth of what his leader was saying.

"Good. We can see how good you are. The only reason fans are getting annoyed is because it's a change they haven't adjusted to yet. Just like you're adjusting to this change too. Now, they shouldn't be sending in hate, so please, I will do everything it takes for you to not listen to it anymore, ok?" Chan promised Y/N, sitting in front of him and making sure he got that one answer he needed.

"O-ok, I-i understand now, thanks hyung, I-i love you all," Y/N felt the stress leave him, finally able to understand things from a different perspective.

"Aww he said he loves us!" Minho suddenly picks up Y/N and spins him around, causing the younger boy to squeal.

"I wish I had a camera!" Seungmin laughed along.

"I need to remember this forever," Jeongin and Han fooled around, widening their eyes and pretending to screenshot this happy cute moment into their brains.

It was definitely a moment that Y/N would be teased about in the future, being exposed for his true feelings for his hyungs when normally he'd be quiet about what he thought about in the normal way. It was just a good thing they got in his head this time, because now they had a happy memory to think about instead.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

What to do when you find yourself to be an immortal vampire?

Forever is a long time. Paul knew that, back when he was offered to change. He didn't care. He liked the idea of staying young forever, partying all night, never complaining about life like his parents did. Never complaining about long hours of work an dno payment to show for it. Never complaining about pains in his joints, headaches that wouldn't stop coming, never having to worry about any of those human things.

No, immortality was exactly what Paul imagined it would be. It was partying. It was freedom. It was flying in the sky and letting yourself fall to the ground, knowing you wouldn't be harmed. It was scaring the living shit out of people. It was gory, bloody, horrifyingly disturbing - but most of all, it was fun.

He loved racing on his bike, going faster than he would have dared when he was a human. He loved hunting and stalking his victims. He loved toying with them and making them think they had a chance of survival. He loved hanging with the guys, enjoying life in a way he couldn't when he was still alive.

But, as there always is with these things, there was a downside. Summer, for instance. When the heat began to roll into the cold cave, Paul already began to dread the coming months. The late sunsets, the early sunrises, the number of people in Santa Carla who paid way more attention to their surroundings than they used to. No, those summer months - even though he still enjoyed the nightly trips to the boardwalk - were the one thing he disliked about being a vampire.

He always woke up early, around four in the afternoon. In winter, it didn't really matter. The sun was already beginning to set, and it wouldn't be long before he could go outside. In summer, it was often a seven hour wait before sunset. The others had found ways to cope with their time waiting.

Marko had gotten pets. He cared for his pigeons, cared for the mice, and bugs living in the cave. He made sure the bats hiding in the dark corners were all still healthy - and helping them heal whenever it was necessary. Yes, Marko never complained about the time inside, having more than enough things and creatures to keep him occupied.

Dwayne, well, he was the one who probably enjoyed that time the most. He liked his downtime, preferring to have a quiet, calm evening instead of one filled with humans. He spent his time reading, going through the piles of books spread around the cave as if his life depended on it.

David, on the other hand, was often found writing or thinking up new ways to traumatise his victims. He enjoyed exploring his powers, seeing how far he could go with an illusion, how much suggestion something needed before the illusion took hold. He was often contemplating knew ideas, testing them out, and writing down notes on what to improve. He always played it off as child's play, especially when he had a thing for his victim, but in reality, it took a lot of training to get to the point where he was now.

Paul had never had the attentionspan to focus on his suggestion skills. Nor did he have a gift for animals or the patience to read a book. Over the years, he had done many things. He had tried to grow a bonsai tree - only to realise that he had forgotten to water it two months after getting it. Needless to say, the tree didn't live for long.

Once he had decided to get into making patches, seeing how Marko always decorated his jacket with them. He designed a few, and got better with each one he made - but then he forgot where he'd put his needless, and then just forgot about the thing.

He had asked Dwayne to teach him how to skate, which went surprisingly okay - until Paul decided to skate off the cliff to see how far he would go, and he lost the skateboard. He bought a replacement, but if asked, Dwayne was still a bit sour about it.

Paul tried everything, from making stop motion videos to organising his album collection to learning astronomy and figuring out how to put his bike apart and put it back together again. No matter what he did, over time, it began to bore him. Or he forgot about it, lost his initial interest.

His whole corner of the cave was filled with projects he once begun and then forgot about, things he bought or stole and then never used. But in the middle of all these things was his quiet pride and joy. It was the result of a bet made years ago.

At one point, when the boys were out on the boardwalk, they'd seen a video of a man cresting a solid aluminium foil ball. David was convinced it was bullshit, Paul thought otherwise. So he started to collect foil whenever he could. He began collecting it from the foil covered chocolate Easter eggs, to buying rolls of foil from the store.

The foil ball began small, but now, two years later, it was almost three feet wide and tree feet high. Not only that, Paul looked at it with a grin. It had become a solid ball. He spent his early mornings in the past years hammering on that ball, making the foil stuck together, making it one solid thing.

It hadn't cured his boredom. If he was honest, he was bored of it the second David had begrudgingly admitted that the TV show had been right, but then he realised it was a thing that kept him busy. So the ball kept growing, and growing and growing, until it was the size it was now.

But as Paul looked at it, the huge ball in his corner of the cave, he spotted the empty wall behind it. Marko had some paint left from when he had painted the Jim Morrison mural, and maybe it was time to add another face to the wall.

As Paul rolled the aluminium ball aside, the thing already forgotten, he started his painting. Marko looked at the scene in front of him, wondering whether this painting would get finished or whether he would spend eternity looking at another unfinished project.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Eleven

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Hey, eleven is here!! I can't actually believe it, thank you for all the love on this series! Means a whole lot. Glad to know some of you are enjoying it, love seeing the reactions too:) This update is another long one but we're getting closer to things finally falling into place!

Just a note for this part though, I haven't been to Detroit, nor the place mentioned in this particular chapter so pls don't come for me if anythings wrong! I tried not to go into too much detail and focus on a couple of pictures I found, but lemme know if anything really jumps out.

Also, we finally a Marshall POV, so hope you enjoy!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Masterlist

Marshall’s POV

It was maddening. 

The way this woman had gone and switched up his entire life whilst somehow managing to keep everything looking the exact same. As though nothing but her presence had been added, and like nothing had really changed. 

At least not to the unaided eye. 

His mind had been in a tailspin from the second he’d first seen her though, that much he knew. The video of her had knocked him sideways, thrown him so completely out of whack that he couldn’t quite tell if he’d been righted ever since. But it had taken a while for that realisation to set in. 

It had dawned, obviously. He was nothing if not fucking perceptive. His brain wired so oddly that it had him realising shit before most people. But more importantly, it had his constant stream of self-awareness shooting through the roof. 

That in itself was an itch he never could quite scratch, had pissed him off a whole lot growing up too– especially the way he had. It’d gone and really messed with his head in actuality and so the older he’d gotten the more he had started to use all sorts of crap to just find a simple way to tune it out. To dull the constant tick-tick-ticking of his brain. To cope with the never ending thoughts. 

But then he’d gotten sober, hadn't he? And he’d been forced to fucking feel again. To psychoanalyse the years he’d lost, the pain he’d caused. 

It hadn’t been pretty, and yet, he was still standing. Still moving as he attempted to continue putting that same amount of effort into everything else that had been thrown at him ever since.

Her though–

Marshall’s tongue rolled out between his lips thoughtlessly, eyes caught on the studio wall ahead. She was something he hadn’t never prepared for. 

He kept finding himself telling her these– things. Inane shit, like how he preferred running to the gym and candy over fucking chocolate. But then it shifted and he found himself letting slip about the kind of crap that he hardly even let himself linger too long on. Like, Ayla. 

That girl was his world. Stood there right there alongside Z, but he knew he’d messed her up almost as bad as both her parents had. When he hadn’t been able to get his fucking shit together, when she’d be forced to see him at his worst, his lowest. Unable to do nothing but watch. ‘Cause she’d just been a kid then. And he knew that sentiment all too well, had lived through it too. He hadn’t never wanted his own kids to have to go through that, to see the struggle, to experience it and feel that same pain. 

It was the sort of pain that was truly unlike any other and he’d lived too long to not know that by now.

But he’d changed since then and he’d done it all for her. He hadn’t looked back neither, no matter how hard it had gotten, how much he had wanted to quit. ‘Cause he hadn’t wanted his girls to see him that way no longer. To have them stand by and have them do nothing but watch. To have to prepare them for the worst. To have them lose him too. All because he hadn’t been able to just pick them over the one thing he’d abused most. 

Elia. She hadn’t asked. Hadn’t even attempted to worm her way into his head and prod him for all these secrets he held like he was just some piñata and they were the candy inside waiting to spew out. No, he’d given them all to her. Freely. Almost without question. And that there was what scared him most. What fucked him up and messed with his head.

‘Cause that was where he’d gone wrong before, the first dozen times around. Trusting these women with their pretty smiles that hid their deceitful tongues and sugar coated their lies.

It was then that his mind flashed back to late nights years ago that he thought he’d long lost, to blonde hair and smudged lipstick. To some other girl’s bed, her dark eyes and keys to motel rooms. To Vegas and then Nevada, California and New York.

It was with those thoughts that he felt himself frown and raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, wondering why he let himself get so caught up in the past, why he was now allowing himself to think about her the same way he had them. 

They were friends. 

She was here to work.

But that grating voice was in the back of his head again, questioning his fucking questions. His motives. Prodding at his every decision. It knew that he was full of shit. And he knew it too. Didn’t mean he had to like it though. Or admit it.

He scraped his tongue between his front teeth and revelled for a moment in the slight sting which followed, the tiny bumps that arose soon after. Then he huffed. 

She was a question in her own right. That was exactly what she was. He couldn't quite tell what that meant for him though as he found himself picking up his pen for the umpteenth time that night. All he knew was that this shit he’d written was as close to a fucking love song as he would ever fucking get, and he couldn’t stop picturing her the further and further the page got to being completely covered.

What he did know for certain, something he was evidently sure of, was that he was completely and utterly fucked. And it was all down to her.

––––––––––––––––

A knock startled me from the mindless state I’d fallen into whilst sat at the mirror, desk scattered with brushes and makeup alike, and so I only had a split second before the door to my room flew open, allowing a certain blonde to come sailing through, hair in disarray and socks mismatched. 

“Dad’s late!”

I blinked at the whirlwind that was Rosie before a laugh seemed to escape me, and I turned around in the chair just in time to watch the girl faceplant my freshly made sheets. “What do you mean?” I asked her, pushing myself to my feet and wincing at the noise my knees made– I would say that getting old sucked but my knees had been my biggest hater since before my early twenties hit. 

Rosie heaved a dramatic sigh as she manoeuvred around so that she could prop herself up on her elbows and meet my eye, none the wiser to my inner thoughts. “I went downstairs and he wasn’t there, right? But he’s always up and in the kitchen by now, guy drinks too much coffee if you ask me.” She explained, shaking her head at that last part whilst I rounded the bed to peer down at her with a bemused expression, hip pressing against the bedpost, “Anyway, I waited, figuring that he was just, I don’t know, peeing or something. But then I realised I was slowly starving and so I went to look for him.” 

My brows rose at the theatrics as well as the look she’d taken on, but did little to hide my mirthful smirk, “So I’m guessing you found him then?”

“Yup.” She replied with a pop, smiling sweetly, “He’s late.”

“Right.” I snorted, settling my hands on my hips, “That mean he’s up at least?”

The question earned me a somewhat evil grin, one that was far too prideful and full of amusement that it couldn’t have meant anything else. I shook my head at her antics but was unable to help the light chuckle that bubbled up my throat, the sound only seemed to fuel the chaotic energy she’d bounded in with. 

“Can we do something cool with my hair today?” Rosie wondered as she pushed upwards and bounced ever so slightly into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. I was reminded then quite hastily of the conversation Marshall and I had shared the night before when she peered up at me with such an unfiltered expression of excitement. 

I didn’t dare let her down.

So I’d allowed the mini madam to drag me back over to the dressing table I’d just been using and procure me with an array of hair bands, clips, bows, and brushes that she’d brought in with her but left by the door. She ended up talking throughout the whole process, happy to let me work whilst she let slip about the candy bar she’d found to stave herself over with before she’d gone in search of her Dad– something which made complete sense now, given her mood. Afterwards, she then decided that it was an ample time to ask me a thousand and one questions, most of which I tried to answer as best as I could. 

Marshall eventually found the pair of us, still bleary eyed from where he’d been woken only a short while earlier but hair damp enough to note that he’d hurried through his usual morning routine, that and the fact that he’d come in smelling exceptionally pleasant. 

He paused in the door that had since been left open, his stare caught on my languid movements whilst I finished winding the remaining plait I’d started into one of the two space buns which sat atop of his daughter’s head. 

Rosie had yet to notice him, still rambling away so I shot the man an amused smile.

“Heard you had a lie in.” I found myself commenting once I’d snapped the last hair band into place, just in time too, because it was not a second later that Rosie’s head went jolting in the direction of the doorway.

“You’re up!” She exclaimed, exuding her elation in the grin she gave him. 

Full of fondness, Em still let out a scoff as his arms rose to cross over the expanse of his chest, a mindless action that brought me to note the form fitting tee he’d decided on that morning, a total contrast to the large hoodies I was so used to seeing him in. I couldn’t lie to myself about the way my attention caught on his forearms upon seeing it, the tattoos there, the few freckles, the vein that ran down the outer side and across his hand–

My head snapped left when a squeal sounded, dragging my traitorous eyes away from the man and instead to his daughter, who was now beaming in the mirror. My smile wasn’t forced upon witnessing her reaction, even with the freight train full of thoughts that was now rumbling its way around inside my head, and so I wasn’t all too ungrateful for the distraction of the brilliant grin she gifted me with before she was in my arms and hugging me in thanks.

“I love it,” She forced out in one giant breath, before tacking on, “Ana’s going to be so jealous!”

My gaze trailed its way back over to Em, who was looking pensive by the door, he smiled when his eyes flickered up to meet my own. “Looks real good, baby.” He murmured to her, the acknowledgement garnering an even brighter reaction from Rosie, who’s head turned to him at the sound of his voice.

“You like it?” She asked in that way that only daughters could, her eyes full of hope and all puppy-like.

Marshall’s mouth ticked upwards at the sight and he blinked slowly before answering the girl, “You look beautiful.”

Rosie was more than grateful for that answer, not just because it was a nice thing to hear, especially when trying something new, but because it was her Dad who had been the one to say it. She bolted across the room to fall into his side, only ducking away again when one of his hands threatened to come up and settle on the back of her head.

“Watch the hair!”

I laughed brightly at the squeak whilst she ducked under his arm to escape, levelling him with a narrow-eyed glare from the hallway, shaking her head at him. Marshall expelled a long sigh and raised his hands in a show of apology, but Rosie appeared exasperated by him all the same. She still smiled though before she shot off back down the stairs, calling out the reminder of breakfast to him.

Marshall pivoted in his stance, his tired eyes sweeping away from the hall to find me putting away all the few hair bobbles that I hadn’t needed. “I’m raisin’ a prima donna.”

Snorting at the analysis he’d since come to, I shot him a sly smile, “Hear it runs in families.”

I was met by a roll of his eyes, but the smirk he wore was evident. “I own it.” He acknowledged with not an ounce of embarrassment. 

So I dragged out a low hum whilst closing the dresser’s only drawer before I turned to him once again and made my way over. The pair of us exited the room together, Marshall shutting the door behind me before he ran a hand over the top of his head and gestured for us to start down the stairs.

It was as we reached the bottom that he chose to speak up, clearing his throat before he did, “Thanks by the way, for you know. Doin’ her hair and stuff for her. I know you said you would but, she ain’t the only one who appreciates it. You know?”

Glancing his way, my smile couldn’t be helped, not with how unsure and awkward he then looked. A total contrast to the ego he’d radiated not a minute earlier. It wasn’t something I was too used to seeing on Marshall and so it humoured me to no end. 

“I know.” I answered, choosing not to comment on his antsy-ness or the way tense shoulders then slumped a tad, “One less thing to fret about, right? Seein’ as you were snoozing whilst the rest of us were up and prepping for the day.”

Marshall didn’t appear to mind the slight ribbing, or at least I thought so until hip-checked me in the hallway whilst we were wandering after Rosie, the hit just hard enough to have me bumping into the nearby wall. My jaw dropped at the unexpected reaction but was still somehow delighted to hear his laugh trail back to me, watching the way his face lit up as he looked back at me from over his shoulder. 

“You were sayin’?” He mocked around a smug smile.

My glare was counterproductive, seeing as I was huffing out a faint laugh whilst simultaneously trying to right myself before I hurried to catch up to him, only managing to do so a second after he’d swept into the kitchen.

“Hey, seeing as it’s Friday tomorrow, can we take El out again?” Came Rosie’s voice, the sound of it drawing my attention over to where she was now pouring a bowl of cereal. Her eyes were stuck on the task at hand but they flickered up to where Em was standing by the fridge whilst she waited for an answer.

Marshall’s own gaze wandered over to me for a split second, roaming over my face before his attention jumped to the milk he had grasped. “Up to her, Z.”

And that, my friends, was an exuberant yes in the jam-packed book that cited Marshall’s lexicon.

“What d’you have in mind?” I wondered as I made my way past the girl to fill up the kettle that had since settled into its very own spot on the kitchen side.

“Some food, a movie maybe?” Z delicately suggested, eyes jumping over to Marshall again, the man slid the milk carton he held into her hand, before they moved to meet mine. 

Shrugging softly, I smiled at the idea, reminded of days I’d spent in the cinema near the old flat we’d lived in, the same one I’d snuck into countless times as a kid and then had taken Danny and Lottie to whenever home had gotten too much to handle. “Sounds good to me, your Dad has the last say though.” I quickly reminded her after seeing the way her face had lit up.

“Can we, Dad?” Rosie asked excitedly, her voice full of elated anticipation, practically bouncing in her seat as she waited for the final yes.

Em exhaled, his blue eyes trailing between Z and I, allowing me to notice how the morning sun caused them to appear almost transparent in the light of the kitchen. But it was all for show, because it was too obvious what his answer was going to be. 

“Sounds like a plan, kiddo.”

Hiding my triumphant grin, I turned back to the whistling kettle and filled two mugs, not even second guessing the action.

…

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 Heya bug, msg me when you get out of school, wanna hear about your day! xX

…

Even with Marshall waking up late and Rosie’s evident sugar rush, the school run hadn’t been as chaotic as I’d expected it to be. We managed to make it there in time, in fact we had just a minute to spare which Rosie used to lean over the centre console wedged between the two front seats so that she could give Marshall and I a goodbye.

“See you guys after school.” She grinned whilst letting her Dad wrap an arm awkwardly around her shoulders so that he could press a kiss to her temple. She withdrew a tad from him afterwards, his hand shucking her chin in a gesture that was all too familiar, and then turned to mimic the previous action on me, a quick peck to my left cheek before she was falling back into the rear seat and opening the passenger side door. 

The action startled me enough that I could only watch her grin grow from where she then settled on the pavement outside, waving the two of us goodbye through the window before she bolted up the school steps.

I watched on, dazed but filled with a heavy warmth as she disappeared from view.

It was when I’d finally managed to drag my eyes away from the stone stairs that Marshall broke the quiet that had filled the car with an exaggerated “Ooohh.” 

There was a shit-eating grin plastered over the lower half of his face, the biggest he’d ever given me and it only added to the mix of emotions I was experiencing. “How’s that feel? You done levelled up!” He prompted, clapping his hands as a laugh expelled from him, thoroughly amused by my stunned reaction.

I blinked, but then found myself chuckling along with him, smiling widely as I attempted a little bow, only made awkward by the strap of my seatbelt. Em enjoyed it all the same though, especially when I replied to his dramatics with some of my own, “No, no! You’ve gotta take a picture real quick, this feels like a monumental moment.” Half joking, half serious.

He was quick with his phone anyway, pulling it out and flicking to the camera app so fast that it surprised me, what with being so used to his common annoyance with all things technology. He was still grinning away as he raised the phone a little higher and it took me a second to realise he was filming me instead of taking the picture I’d asked for.

“How you feel?” Marshall asked, his voice still buoyant, the smile he wore evident in it. It just melted me further, in truth. To know how happy his daughter's action had made not just me, but him too. 

“Loved.” I smiled back at him, eyes squinting with the strength of it as I peered into the lens.

“Someone alert the media!” Em crowed, the sound thoughtless and open, before he was leaning in over the console, wanting to get a close up of the cheek in question. I was blinded by the smile he still wore, catching glimpses of it behind his phone and arm, “You ever gone wash that shit again?”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me in return before I closed my eyes and flicked my hair over my shoulder. “I wouldn’t dare! This has to top my night at the Grammys.” I overemphasised for the sake of the camera, glancing back at Marshall a second later so that we could both share another grin, him lowering the camera ever so slightly so that he could spin it back ‘round on him.

“Well, you heard it here first, folks. Tune in later to see if Z will up the ante!” He cheesed, putting on a voice that had me giggling harder before he was pausing the video and peering back at me with a sincere grin. 

“You one lucky girl, I swear.” He mentioned to me in a murmur, shaking his head whilst I dragged my own phone out of my coat pocket, raising it to capture my own version of the moment. “What you doin’?” He questioned me once he spotted it, but I had already pulled up Snapchat to zoom in and capture a quick photo. 

Em watched on as my thumbs typed away, writing a quick ‘Never washing this cheek again #Priorities’ over the top of the picture before saving it to my camera roll. It was just as I went to click off the app completely that he stopped me.

“You not gone post that?”

I turned to him with a look of bewilderment, eyes wide and eyebrows practically touching my hairline. “Are you crazy? That’ll spark all sorts of rumours.”

He just snorted, then levelled me with a simple shrug, cheek lolling against the headrest. “Fuck ‘em.”

It took me a moment to realise that he was being deadly serious. 

In reply to the silence he’d been met with, Marshall merely quirked a brow at me, almost as if he was challenging it. Daring me to follow through.

I stared at him for a long second before I let my thumb hover over the ‘Send to’ button, giving him the time needed to take it back. But he didn’t.

Thinking it over, I figured the most people could come up with ammo like this was that I’d likely been kissed or was just messing around with a friend about something, which wasn’t all that unusual for me, in truth. I had taken to posting all of the weird shit I saw when I was out every once in a while, as well as the odd picture with Lottie or a friend. So I didn’t think people would put too much thought into it.

Besides, I’d never been the type to back down from a challenge, so I added it to my story as quick as I could and then clicked the phone off entirely.

I tried to bite back the strength of my grin when I looked back over at him, but it truly was hard going, what with the way Em had given up on hiding his own. Still, I watched on as he put the car into gear and relaxed further into my seat as we pulled away from the curb, trying not to pay mind to the excitement which fluttered in my stomach.

“So where we headed?” I wondered after a minute or so, the radio playing low, Marshall nodding his head along to it.

He turned to spare me a glance, smirking now. “Tour of Detroit, baby.”

My brow furrowed on its own accord, thoroughly confused, and Marshall must have been able to read my mind because he let go of a breathy chuckle before he explained further.

“Gotta show you the whole city whilst you're here, right? I mean, you seen where I grew up, but there’s a whole lot more. Figure you’d appreciate it.”

Eyes wide, I felt my mouth drop open a tad and a flash of panic shoot through me. “You’re serious? We’ll get spotted quicker than a priest in a playground!”

My words were met by a short snort before Marshall shook his head, deigning not to touch upon that particular phrasing. “Came prepared.”

“Oh really?” I challenged. 

His mouth quirked to one side, deepening the dimple which sat adjacent to it. My eyes latched onto the small detail and before I knew it we were pulling off into a lot a couple of blocks away from Rosie’s school. 

Once the car had come to a stop, Em was quick to hop out so that he could make his way to the boot. He pulled something or other out, before he closed it once more and jogged back around to the driver's side door. He slipped inside with ease, carrying an array of items in his arms. I noted that he really had come prepared.

In his lap sat three hats and a hoodie. I guessed that he wanted to give me my pick of the lot and I wasn’t let down in the assumption, he handed me the hoodie first, one that felt as luxurious as it looked, and I peered down at it cautiously, but didn’t fight putting it on. 

“Don’t tell me how much this hoodie costs because if I ruin it, then that’s on you.” I told him bluntly as I peeled my coat off and pulled my head through the hoods opening. He snorted in retort and it was only when I’d rolled my hands through the sleeves that he reached out to drag the strings of the jumper into place, smiling at me in a way that made my mouth go dry. 

“Live a little.” Were the words he settled on before his attention shifted back down to the three hats he held, my eyes scanned over them.

“As much as I think the beanie suits you, you’ve gotta go with a cap to cover up all this.” I told him honestly, waving my hand over the expanse of his money-maker before I reached out to take the red and blue beanie. 

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” Em asked and I realised a second too late how teasing his tone had been.

“You know, the cap will help–”

“No, no, no, you know I was talkin’ ‘bout the beanie.” He reaffirmed, smile sly as he turned to use it on me.

I blinked, thinking back on what I’d said before it hit me. I felt myself flush a tad, but did my best to brush the comment off like it was nothing, “You look good in a beanie, is all. Most people do.”

Marshall blew out another laugh, it almost seemed to fill the car, even more so as he leaned an arm against the centre console to lessen the space between us. “This your way of sayin’ you’re hot on me then?”

I scowled, reaching out to press my palm against the side of his cheek so that I could push his smirking face away. “You wish.”

He snorted, eyeing the way I pulled down the car’s interior mirror so that I could fit the beanie to my head. When I turned back towards him, I was surprised to catch him already staring. He didn’t look perturbed by it though, no, he simply smirked, “Beanie suits you, too.”

Thankfully, he left it at that, picking up one of the remaining caps and placing it on his own head before he tossed the last of the three into the back. It was as he resettled in his seat that I found myself moving to fix the cap’s brim, tugging it a millimetre or so lower and centring it so that the Lion’s logo faced frontwards. 

My breath caught when I finally registered what I’d done so mindlessly, but Marshall didn’t appear to have minded it, watching me as I withdrew, his eyes caught on mine for a long second before he finally broke the moment, “Thanks.”

I cleared my throat and forced my gaze into looking out the front window, only nodding in answer. He started up the car again and it was as we set off that I struggled to find a new topic to break the quiet with. 

It wasn’t awkward, this quiet. Just prolonged, filled with an energy I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I didn’t know if Marshall even felt it but as soon as I spoke, I was grateful to feel it ebb. “You know, I love American cars.”

A line formed in the skin between Em’s brows when he chanced a quick look at me, “How come?” He wondered and it was with his words that I felt the rest of my body relax once more into the comfort of his leather seats.

Still, I shrugged lightly, gaze wandering over the car’s interior before it shifted out over the long stretch of road we’d since pulled onto, eyes jumping between the other vehicles that surrounded us. “Just bigger, used to dream about driving one of those old Fords when I were a kid.” I explained, thinking back to the ones I’d seen on the tele. “You know, they used to drive them in those older films, back in the 80’s and stuff.”

“What, like a Bronco?”

“No– well actually, those would be sick as well.” I mentioned, thinking about it before I gently shook my head, “But you know, one of those old four by fours? The big ones you see a lot of country boys driving.”

Em’s smile twitched in good humour when he shot me a knowing look, “Ah, so she’s inta dem country boys.”

I rolled my eyes, exasperated by the accent he’d slathered on but laughing still. “No, you idiot. I just like the trucks!” But then I had to pause and actually think about it, “Now you mention it though, those country boys weren’t all that bad to look at either.”

Marshall snorted, then hummed, “You know, I’m originally from cow country. Midwest way.”

Pensive, I let my gaze roam back towards him. “I figured you’d always lived here.”

He just shook his head, looking in his mirror before he switched lanes, “Moved when I was a kid, but was born in Missouri if you can believe that shit.”

I was unable to help my smile, oddly surprised to know that small fact about him. I shifted slightly in my seat to look him over better, almost as though now that I knew of the detail I’d actually be able to see it in him. 

“I don’t know much about it.” I admitted once nothing about him really changed or jumped out at me, “Is it like farmy?”

Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes again, though I could tell that it was in fond amusement rather than anything else. “It’s like any state, idiot. There’s cities, but yeah some fields too.”

Humming, I tried to picture him in some place like that. As much as Em fit into the life and soul that clung to Detroit and its streets, I could easily see him settling into a quaint house out by a bayou, miles away from any prying eyes and noise. 

“What’s the hum for?” He wondered, eyes trying to analyse the sound by the tells my face gave away.

I shot him a smile, “Nothing.”

He didn’t believe me, not for a second, but let it go seeing as we had pulled into a parking lot. I sat up further to look around, trying to spot a clue as to where we were at, my eyes widened when I found it. 

Belle Isle Aquarium.

I honestly attempted to not look too excited by the sudden prospect, but I’m not sure I managed it all that well. There was a time, when I’d still been little enough to not know any better, that I thought I could grow up to be a deep-sea diver, so fascinated by the ocean and its entirety. At break time, I would read all the books the school’s library had to offer on the sea and its many creatures, overwhelmed by the fact that it was so large and deep that we had only ever really touched the surface, that there was still so much there left to discover. 

I didn’t ever really mention it nowadays, but there were still nights where I fell asleep watching the odd documentary on the ocean, about the sharks that lived there or the reefs that hid beneath the water. I wondered briefly if Marshall knew, if I’d ever mentioned it in passing, but then brushed the thought away, figuring it to just be a coincidence.

The car rattled with the slight slam of the doors and it took me a second to figure out that I’d already stepped out to join Em by the curb. He was watching my reaction, it seemed, or waiting for it, I wasn’t quite sure, but all the same, I turned to him with a bright smile. “We’re going in?”

His smile was small but genuine, eyes hidden by the rim of his cap as he looked back over at the aquarium's entrance. Seeing the few people that were headed in and out, I figured he was probably scanning to see how we could slip inside unseen.

I sidled up beside him, watching too. “Do we have to get tickets?”

He shook his head, arm brushing against mine as he waved his phone in a gesture that told me he’d already planned ahead. I had to wrinkle my lips to keep from grinning too hard at the realisation. 

We stuck close together as we made our way inside, thankful for the lack of queue that allowed Em to flash a quick email to an older woman stood waiting at the entrance before we stepped inside. 

The first row of tanks we saw were illuminated all around us and as my eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting we’d walked into they soon set intently on the glowing water held within them. There was a flurry of movement throughout and I was quick to step on closer, tracking the many fish that swam by, some brightly coloured, others almost mimicking the colour of the tanks floor.

I didn’t recognize all of the specific kinds I could see but I didn’t dare deny that they were all beautiful. It was almost mesmerising the way they all swam together and then apart, their actions thoughtless, simple. 

A little way down I spotted a group of kids, no older than about six or seven, and found myself relating to the way they pressed their little faces up against the glass, like they were waiting to sink through it and live amongst the marine life, to revel in that same simplicity. 

I felt Marshall slide into the space beside me and looked up to capture the way his eyes traced the zooming fish, before they soon settled on me. “Good idea?”

I blew out a breath, smiling. “The best.”

I gave up on trying to hide my excitement with that, reaching out to press my fingers to the glass, revelling in the few fish that came up to inspect the intrusion, mouths twitching ever so before they were darting off again. I laughed quietly to myself and then let my feet lead me further through the room.

I jumped from tank to tank, dragging Marshall along with me, not thinking as I grabbed his hand and pointed out all of the things that captured my attention. When we finally stopped by a wall full of guppies, I rattled off a fact without even noticing, eyes so caught on the tails that passed us by.

“So if they don’t have vocal chords, how do they make noises?” Em questioned me, his face screwed up in a confused grimace.

“They use low-pitched sounds to convey messages to each other, like rattling their bones or gnashing their teeth. They also use their bodies, vibrate their muscles against their swim bladder to mate or be territorial.” I answered him, eyes caught on the rapid array of colours. 

“The fuck’s a swim bladder?” 

His muttered question caught me by surprise and all I could do was laugh as I pulled him away from the crowd that had looked over at the unexpected sound. We ended up over by the blobfishes after that, something Em actually seemed engrossed by and the surrounding groups tried to avoid. 

“What about these fuckers?” He queried, leaning over to get a better look at the plaque that housed a picture of what most people believed a blobfish to look like. 

“They’re strange, it’s the pressure of the deep sea that provides them with their structural support.” I told him, bending down to join him in his stance before I peered into the tank. “They have little amounts of muscle and their bones are quite soft so that they’re able to live in high pressure conditions. When they’re brought to the surface though, they decompress. That’s why they look so different.”

“I relate, man.” Marshall mentioned to the nearest fish which clung to the tank’s floor. It made me giggle, though I couldn’t deny his words, Em seemed to thrive in high pressure scenarios much like the blobfish.

The further we walked, trailing through the large glass greenhouses the aquarium had to offer, taking in their shrubbery and vast amounts of evergreen, the more and more I wished that I lived in Detroit, knowing that if I did, I’d be here almost every weekend. It was beyond beautiful, made even more so by the blue sky above and the water which surrounded us.

Out of all the creatures the place had to offer, Em quite liked looking at the seahorses and made a show of rattling off the facts the aquarium offered in a mocking manner that made me realise how obnoxious I must’ve been.

“Sorry.” I offered sheepishly, chuckling in an attempt to hide the self-consciousness which had crept in, “I get carried away sometimes, but just tell me to shut up and you know I will.”

He practically froze at that, caught mid motion, but his stare was still stuck on me. My eyes flickered back and forth between his own and so when he finally exhaled I was witness to the way he quickly shook his head in retort, startling me slightly when he decided to drape an arm over my shoulders and tug me into his side. 

I did my best to turn my attention to the tank full of seahorses, even as he pressed chin to the side of my head and murmured into my hair, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

I nodded to let him know I’d heard, but didn’t trust myself to answer, anxious about how it might sound. Cursing myself for not realising that he’d only been teasing, not mocking.

“Mean it.” He emphasised, and I could feel the gravel of his voice just by my ear, the grate of it erupting goosebumps down the side of my neck. “I like how much you like fish.”

Scoffing around a light chuckle, I swatted his lower stomach in retaliation, glad to be back on common ground. “I find them interesting, you dick.”

He hummed thoughtfully and I held my breath as the sound vibrated down my spine, “Tell me more.” 

I did narrow my eyes at the demand, peering up at him to see if he was teasing again, but no. Marshall appeared as sincere in his ask as he had been with everything else this week. I licked at my lower lip, then turned back towards the tank, my voice soft as I regaled another fact off the top of my head. 

“They’re really bad swimmers, slowest kinds of fish, too. They have to use their tails to hold onto things so that the current doesn’t sweep them away, but they’re also the only fish that can swim upright.” I rambled, the weight of his arm on my shoulders allowing me to slump a little further into his side, the earlier anxiety melting away. “Seahorses don’t chew either, or have stomachs. They just disintegrate their food by sucking it in really forcefully.”

“Sounds like an ex I had.” Em quipped with a vague huff, before he turned more curious, “How’d they eat then? Gotta eat to shit, no?”

Shaking my head in exasperated amusement, I told him about their inefficient digestive systems and how much they have to eat a day to stay healthy. “They’re also monogamous.” I mentioned, tilting my head to the side to watch as a couple of seahorses floated closer.

“I see. These players ain’t fuckin’ round, know they only gotta worry about one psycho baby momma.” Marshall said and I felt him dip his head in a show of appreciation.

I had to snort at his stupidity, “You never heard that it’s the males that get pregnant?”

Marshall actually pulled away at that, hand coming to rest on the small of my back whilst his eyes blinked back at me, now wide enough that I could properly see them beneath the brim of his cap. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way.”

With a teasing smile, I reached out to pat at his stomach, “Bet you’d look so good, Marsh. Imagine the pregnancy shoot we could have for you! Paint your belly the colours of the Detroit Lions and everything!”

He slapped my hand away with a tut and slight shake of his head, but he was grinning even as I struggled to stop my laughter. 

It was as we walked away from the seahorses that Marshall ended up looping his arm over my shoulders once more, leading us through another brick archway in my favourite shade of green. We didn’t have to travel far before my feet rooted themselves to the ground, forcing Em into a halt too.

It was only when he glanced over to see the roundness my eyes had taken on that he caught on and chuckled.

Honestly though, it felt as though my lungs had forgotten how to function at the sight I'd been met with. “Those are sharks.”

“Astute assumption there, Darwin.”

“Sharks, Marshall.” I felt the need to reiterate, somehow managing to drag my eyes away from the extraordinary view to spare him a dazed glance. 

Only, I was taken back by the smile he adorned, it was one I’d yet to see. All goofy and childlike, as though he was truly enjoying himself and not thinking about anything else. But he wasn’t watching the sharks, nor the tank. No, his full focus seemed to be honed in on me.

He laughed, only strengthening that smile he wore, and the sight did something to my heart.

“What kind are they?” He asked me, continuing to chuckle quietly as he led us over to a corner of the glass that was free, most of the other observers crowding around the middle in hopes to lure one of the animals closer.

“Maybe a tigershark?” I offered, the two of us subconsciously stepping closer to watch as one of the smaller sharks swam close enough to flash us his underbelly. “Yeah, that definitely was.” I breathed out, blinking when I spotted Marshall’s face in the reflection, the way he was watching the water with a certain amount of reverence. 

“Damn.” He muttered when it swam past us again, tilting his head up to see past the brim of his hat. I watched him for a long moment then, the way the tank lit up his eyes, deepened them too, whilst lengthening his already long lashes. “I know a couple things about sharks, you know.” He offered and didn’t seem all that surprised when he looked over to see me already watching him, or perhaps he hadn’t noticed. 

“Yeah?” I whispered, prompting him on.

“They don’t have bones, right?” He started and at my nod, he smiled and continued, eyes flickering back and forth between the tank and me, “They’re made up of cartilage. Helps them to stay afloat ‘cause it's lighter than bone.”

I hummed in acknowledgement, grinning as one of the sharks swam over the rocky ground by my hand. Em reached out and put his fingers to the glass, breathing in sharply when the shark knocked its side against it.

“What else?” I asked softly, already so invested in hearing what he had to say.

“Their teeth,” He began, stare caught on the same shark that seemed to be circling its way back around, “They come in rows, so when one gets loosened or breaks they jus’ get rid of it and the one from the row behind moves forward.” He told me, pulling me in closer so that we could both press our palms to the glass, “Know that our teeth are actually a lot stronger than theirs too, ‘cause theirs don’t have no roots, they’re jus’ constantly sheddin’ them.”

“I didn’t know that.” I admitted gently, before I was chuckling at the same shark that nudged against the glass, right over the tops of our hands, “Wow.” 

“Yeah, wow.” I heard Marshall breathe in response, the pair of us utterly taken by the creatures.

…

In truth, we were both still in an odd sort of trance even as we wandered back out of the aquarium, only having decided to leave after a few people had started to glance over at us, murmurs starting.

I didn’t mind it all that much, having been grateful for the time we’d managed to lose track of inside, but Em had been quiet as we’d exited, having kept his head down the whole way out. 

By the time we got outside, the sun had just passed its midway mark in the sky and my stomach grumbled lightly. It was that which seemed to knock Marshall out of his solemn trance and he smirked as we approached the car again. 

Rolling my eyes, I flipped him off over the hood as I climbed in, earning myself a chuckle before he followed after me.

“Where you wanna eat?” Marshall quizzed as he buckled his seatbelt and started the car up, “Figured we might be able to get somethin’ here, but then people started takin’ notice.” His face fell into an odd sort of grimace at the reminder, but I waved it off, looking over at the aquarium one last time as we pulled out of the parking space. 

“It’s fine, I’m just really glad we got to go. I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in a while.” I told him honestly, letting go of another breath just thinking about it. 

It had been unlike anything else I’d seen. In truth, I didn’t think anyone had taken me anywhere so incredible. Sure, I had travelled the globe and seen the sea for myself, but it was completely different getting to just wander around beneath it all, to be able to look and just linger. 

Ultimately, the visit had meant a lot to me, I just wasn’t sure if Em had come to that same conclusion yet. 

“Yeah, me neither.” He said after a moment and I was taken back by the quick smile he gifted me with it. Before I had a chance to question it though, as well as everything else the trip had thrown at me, Em was handing me his phone.

My brow pinched when I glanced down at it, but still, I took it from his hand, figuring he’d ask me to grab his charger for him or something. “Look through the pictures, see which ones you like.” He said instead, catching me off guard.

“Uh, okay.” I replied, not having expected that but I guessed he must have managed to snap a couple photos of the sea life whilst I hadn’t been looking.

I turned the phone on and before I could even ask, Marshall was already rattling his passcode off to me, something I didn’t trust most with. I nodded anyway and quickly typed it in, smiling at the wallpaper which greeted me, a picture of him with Ayla and Z, before I then moved to click into his camera roll. 

There were enough photos of the aquarium, it seemed, for them to have covered the first few visible rows of his library and so I pressed on the last one and decided to scroll through.

Only, my earlier surprise grew larger and larger the further I swiped through them all. I’d been right in assuming that Marshall had captured quite a few shots of the fishes as well as a couple other creatures, but a majority of them were of me. Me standing by the jellyfish tanks. Me under one of the greenhouse domes, just the right amount of sunlight beaming in from above to make me appear almost angelic. Me grinning at a school of clownfish, nose practically touching the glass. Me stood over one of the open enclosures, marvelling at the stingray swimming beneath the surface.

There were dozens. Including one of me stood amongst the sharks with a slack jaw. That one made me chuckle, even as embarrassed as I felt, but then I swiped onto the next photo and my breath caught in the back of my throat.

It was of Rosie and I, the two of us sprawled out on the sofa, my hand in her hair, hers wrapped loosely around my ankle. It had so obviously been taken the night before when we’d all been watching that film and I was eager to take in every detail I could. 

I swiped again, intrigued now, and smiled at the following picture I was met with. 

Marshall caught my eye first, he was holding up the camera with one hand and was wearing that Kangol hat of his, chin titled ever so slightly towards the lens. His eyes were shadowed by the cap but the sun was still just high enough in the sky to have casted a warm glow over the rest of his skin. 

My gaze flickered over to it setting in the background, colouring the typical blue a blazing orange, but it was there that I also spotted Rosie and I stood by the roundabout. Her smile was big enough that it stood out even from a distance, but the camera only really picked up my side profile as I spun her around.

I guessed that he must have taken it that first day I arrived, when Rosie had talked us all into going to the park. I wondered if he’d let me have a copy.

Daring to swipe once more I didn’t expect to find what came next.

It was from outside the diner. The same one we’d visited days ago now, where Marcie worked and where Em and I had fought over the bill. The very same diner he’d admitted to being somewhat of a tradition for him and Rosie, a tradition he’d let me in on from the get-go.

He was obviously stood outside in the lot, the shop’s sign flickering in the top corner, but if you peered through the closed door you could once again see Rosie and I, and without thought a smile sprung to my lips, remembering the exact moment Marshall had snapped this picture because it was taken just as Rosie and I finished our pinky promise. You could see it so clearly, the smiles we both bared, the tangle of our hands, how I’d leaned in to level with her.

It actually stunned me to be quite honest. The fact that he’d managed to capture that very moment. How he’d also hidden his little selfie of the three of us at the park. And again last night, prompting me to wonder where he’d found the moment to sneak a photo without Rosie or me realising it. That, as well as the dozens of pictures he’d taken at the aquarium. 

I’d had my picture taken too many times to count. I couldn’t lie about that. It was one of the many consequences of fame. But never had I ever had a person do what Marshall had done, he’d made me feel like a main focus instead of just a topic, whilst somehow also managing to make me feel included, cared for, lov–

I paused that singular thought and reeled back.

Danny had gone through a phase of taking photos as a kid, but he’d been more invested in nature, the surroundings that he didn’t have to answer back to. Whenever he’d taken pictures of us, it had always been as a family and so it wasn’t too hard to spot all the wrongs there. The booze in the background, the joint in Mum’s mouth, our thin frames. I’d never been too fond of them.

Lottie on the other hand, now she was a part of this generation that lived and thrived off of selfies, so whatever photos there were of the two of us, it was usually always of her looking perfect by the lens and me a seeming little dazed in the background, having just been told to pose and given no time to understand what was going on.

These photos though. They made me feel seen.

They made me feel��� just a whole lot.

“Any good ones?” Marshall’s voice cut into my thoughts. My head snapped over to him just in time to catch his gaze before it trailed back over to the road. My eyes lingered on him for a second too long and as a return for all those pictures he’d gotten of me, I raised the phone and snapped a secret photo of him. The afternoon sun was rolling in from the distance and it perfectly illuminated the side of his face. 

I blew out a long breath and smiled over at him. “Yeah,” I said somewhat breathlessly, “They’re perfect.”

[novlr]

I want to write poetry but I have no idea where to start. Any tips?

Poetry is experiencing a massive resurgence. With the rise of social media, poets are becoming the literary heroes of the Instagram feed as more and more people recognise the therapeutic value of poetry and turning their own thoughts to the page.

Maybe you’ve thought about writing poetry but haven’t been sure where to begin. Not to worry —  we’ll guide you through everything you need to know, so that you’ll be writing great poetry in no time. 

Before writing

Learning the art of writing poetry starts before you even pick up the pen. Here are some preliminary steps to take before you write a great poem. 

Read widely

The best thing you can do as a new poet is read the kind of poetry you want to write. Not only will this give you a sense of what other poets are doing well, but it will also help train your inner ear for the sounds and cadences of poetry. It’s a bit like learning a new language; you’ll absorb it best by immersion. 

Learn the basic poetic terms

You don’t need an MFA to write poetry, but it will help if you learn some basic terminology like stanza, line break, enjambment, caesura, metre, and so forth. Being able to put a name to these moving parts will help you make more conscious decisions as you write and heighten your awareness of these choices.  

Study rhyme, rhythm, and metre

Likewise, it will help if you develop an awareness of the way a line of poetry is put together. You don’t necessarily need to worry about technical terms like trimeter and trochee just yet, but try to focus on where the voice rises and falls throughout a poem. 

One of the most popular metres of poetry is called iambic, which is a pattern of unstressed syllables and stressed syllables: “’Tis now the very witching time of night”. This undulation makes the poem soothing to the ear. 

Once you see patterns in the way writers structure their poems, you can choose how to bring these patterns into the way you structure your own poetry. 

During writing

Ready to start writing? Let’s dive in.

Choose a subject to write about

Now it’s time to choose what you want your poem to explore. It can be something minuscule — a drop of dew on a blade of grass that looks a bit like a tiny globe — or something grand, like the corrosion of free education, for example. You might find it helpful to do some journaling on the topic first to explore how you feel about it and get your creative wheels turning. 

Find a format that works for you

Because poetry is so intimate and emotionally driven, it can be beneficial to give it a tactile element by writing with a pen or pencil and paper as well as drafting on a digital platform. Different forms look and feel different depending on where and how they’re composed, so explore what works best for you.

Don’t worry too much about getting it “right” — that’s what revision is for! Just begin structuring your thoughts into some kind of order and practice, practice, practice. 

Overwrite first, trim later

When you’re writing a rough draft, put down lots of material that you can shape into a polished poem later. Many poets find that their poems become a lot shorter as they revise. That’s because they write out a lot of lines and phrases that help them uncover what the heart of the poem is and then cut away the parts they don’t need.

Find your poem’s turning point

Great poems are characterised by what’s called “the turn”, or a shift in the poem’s tone or focus. Often these poems begin by talking about something small and innocent, and then shift into something more emphatic part way through.

For example, maybe a poem starts by talking about a drop of dew on a blade of grass that looks a bit like a tiny globe, but soon the reader realises that what the poet’s really talking about is climate change. Or you could start by writing about a dress you haven’t worn in years, then shift to talking about the person you last saw the night you were wearing that dress. This “turn” gives your poem emotional layers. 

After writing

You wrote a poem! Congratulations!! Now it’s time to make it the very best it can be. 

Read your work out loud 

Great poetry is all about rhythm. The best poets know that reading a finished poem aloud is the key to picking out any snags in the musicality of the piece. Pay attention to any moments in which you get stuck on a hard consonant or trip over any hidden tongue twisters. 

Hearing the way it sounds out loud can help you catch issues that you wouldn’t have noticed on the page and make the language as smooth as it can be. 

Revise, revise, revise

Poets (in fact, any writers) rarely get it just right on the first draft. Once you’ve completed a poem, set it aside for a little while and come back to it with fresh eyes. Then, you can examine how to give each line the maximum impact and how the overall narrative comes together. 

Also, look at the way you’ve shaped your poem and if the line breaks and stanza breaks are pulling their weight. Cut out any material that isn’t necessary — it’s not uncommon for poets to delete the first few lines of a poem because they were just their way of warming up their voice. These superfluous lines are sometimes called “throat clearing” lines. 

Get your poems out into the world

Once your poem is as perfect as you can make it, and you’ve revised each punctuation mark and line break until you’ve gone cross-eyed, you’re ready to send it out. There are thousands (thousands!) of literary journals in the big, wide world that welcome submissions of poems from new writers. Somewhere out there is an editor who is going to love your poem and want to share it with their audience. 

Next stop: worldwide acclaim. Good luck!

[mosquego359]

𖤐One Kiss and A Quidditch Match — Chapter 1: Destiny's Invitation𖤐

Prologue (recommended to read)

Pair: Cedric Diggory x Male Slytherin Reader

Word count: 3.1K words

Summary of the book: You and Cedric Diggory hate each other. It has always been this way. But everything changes one night when you kiss each other at a party. Now, it seems you can’t escape each other — from being partnered up in Herbology for an important project to having to help Cedric during the Triwizard Tournament.

Summary of the chapter: It's the first day. You and your four closest friends have Defence Against the Dark Arts first thing, but you meet the teacher even before class starts and he surprises you with information you didn't realised he had. After first period, you and your group get a surprise invitation to a party.

Notes: This is my first Cedric fanfic so please forgive me for any OOC moments. Please comment anything I should change to improve this. Also, this first chapter will mainly focus on your friends, but there is an interaction with Cedric. Additionally, I am not British so I am not 100% sure how to correctly write people from the UK.

Content warning: There are a couple curse words in this chapter, but they are not too frequent. I may also write a few sexual scenes in later chapters if people request it.

!PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE WITHOUT PERMISSION OR CREDITS TO ME!

...

“Just a few more days and I’ll be old enough to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. Fuck, (Name), I kinda pity you for being born in March,” one of your close friends, Alistair Campbell, ranted about his latest obsession, small pieces of chewed toast flying out of his mouth.

“Don't talk when you eat, Cambell,” another one of your friends, Elsie Wilson, gagged, removing her Slytherin cloak and draping it over the chair to your left. She sat down in an almost royal manner, carefully smoothing her skirt.

Alistair leaned across you to get close to Elsie, chewing, mouth open, intentionally being noisy, and spitting bits of mushy toast onto her lap. Elsie gasped and got back up, wiping the bread off her skirt with a napkin and a disgusted look on her porcelain face.

“It’s the first bloody day of school, Alistair. Calm down.” You pushed your cackling friend back into his chair, wondering how the hell girls were attracted to a moron like himself.

You had to agree Alistair was a looker with his curly hair dyed bright red — faded to burgundy from many Quidditch practices under the rain and days during the break where he went swimming — strong, square jaw, and flawless brown skin, but it didn’t excuse his rude behaviour.

Whenever he walked anywhere with you and the rest of your clique, girls would ogle at his pretty face and muscles, giggling and sometimes latching onto his brawny biceps, attempting to start a casual conversation. If they were smart, they would notice he wasn’t interested and walk away. If they weren't — which was most of the time — one of you had to ask them to leave.

“Blimey, Elsie! I didn’t notice you were here,” Alistair’s twin sister, Winnie, said from the other side of her brother, brushing her frizzy black hair out of her guileless eyes with a toothy grin.

Winnie spent most of her day zoning out during class or lying face-down on her bed to think about whatever she was currently obsessed with. So, one of you had to help her rush through homework or revise using your notes.

Elsie smiled painfully, sitting back down with an irked expression, “Hey, Winnie.”

You glanced around, “Wasn’t Brian supposed to come down with you?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“He’s skipping breakfast,” she sighed. “He insisted on studying for our Defence Against the Dark Arts class — Mary, could you pass me the bacon?—and when I mean insisted, I mean insisted.” Elsie emphasised as she scraped the platter full of bacon on her plate.

“Of course he is,” said Alistair, waving his fork around like a wand.

Brian Ashmore was the final person to complete your friend group of five. Quiet and studious, he was, like you, a Half-Blood. Lucky for the both of you, no one in the school apart from a few close friends and some teachers knew about it, so you two fit right in with the Purebloods in your house. But it also made people see you as just another stereotypical Slytherin. 

After finishing your breakfast, you and your friends left the dining hall.

“Should we go find Brian or should we go to class without him?” asked Winnie. She twisted one of her black locks around her finger and skipped along next to Elsie.

Alistair waved his hand. “We all know that nerd won’t be late. Can’t be missing out on slobbering over the new DADA teachers and getting good grades,” he mocked in a pestering voice, causing you to roll your eyes in exasperation.

“Merlin’s beard, Campbell, you are such an ass.” Elsie shoved him.

“Aww, you’re so grumpy without your boyfriend,” he jeered.

You slid in between them to dissipate the argument before it escalated any further. One of your least favourite things in school was whenever those two idiots argued. Alistair always found a way to get under Elsie’s skin, and it seemed as if you were the peacekeeper of the group. Winnie usually wasn’t paying attention, and Brian didn’t care enough to solve any argument.

“Do you know what the new professor will be like?” you asked your Pureblood friends to ease the air around them, adjusting your book bag so it didn’t fall off your shoulder. “I heard he is an Auror, but that’s all I know without assuming based on looks.”

That seemed to do the trick because Alistair nodded with interest, “Yes. He’s called Mad-Eye Moody. From what I heard from Pa, he’s a rather crazy old bloke.”

Mr. Campbell was a professional auror and rather famous with a knack for violence. While Winnie aspired to be as recognised as her father in the same field of work, Alistair’s dream was to soar in the air and be a famous Quidditch Beater.

"Well, it’s unfortunate that you both share a name, then.” Elsie commented, obviously still peeved from your friend’s previous comment, “If we try to refer to the “insane Alistair”, people won’t be sure which one we’re talking about.”

“Wait what?” He stopped walking.

Elsie flashed him a quick smirk, “You didn’t know? Mad-Eye isn’t his first name, you eejit. You’re both called Alistair.”

“And all of you will be late if you keep stopping in the middle of the hallway,” a gruff voice said behind them.

You turned to be faced with a savage-looking man roughly the same height as you, with a balding head of greasy ginger hair. He had one normal-looking eye while the other was electrical blue, rolling around as if scanning his surroundings. His wrinkly, squashed face reminded you of a mean pitbull.

“And it’s Alastor Moody, young Miss,” he pointed a thick finger at Elsie, who recoiled in embarrassment and mild fear. “Not that’s any of your business; you’ll be calling me Professor.” 

“Sorry, Professor, it’s just playful teasing; my friends didn’t mean anything,” you jumped in as you gripped your bag’s brown strap, noting how you were the only one of your friends who wasn’t too affected by his odd appearance. You remember your parents raising you to never judge people based on looks.

The man leaned closer, seeing you eye-to-eye, “Hmm, you look familiar, Lassie. What’s your name?”

“(Name) (Surname), Professor.”

Moody barked a laugh, a sudden sound that caused you to flinch in surprise. “That’s why you look so familiar. I knew your mother, (Mom’s Name) (Maiden Name). It was unfortunate a brilliant witch like herself married a man like your father.”

You looked away at the mention of your Muggle father. It wasn’t the fact that he wasn’t a wizard that bothered you. Well yes, it was, but what frightened you was what the school would do if they found out. Many Purebloods were discriminatory towards any wix with Muggle ancestry, and being known as a Half-Blood or Muggleborn would greatly affect how students saw you. That was why you and Brian only informed people you were close to about your parentage.

You remembered, at first, Alistair was rather rankled after being revealed that information, but quickly got over it. You were aware that many others wouldn’t be so merciless.

But Mad-Eye Moody didn’t elaborate, only holding eye contact with you for a couple of seconds until he turned to walk around your group with a clickety-clack of something inanimate hitting the floor. Did this already odd man have a peg leg?

Winnie waited until he rounded a corner to speak, “He’s a little weird.”

Alistair shuddered. “He gave me chills. It’s so eerie how he just sneaked up on us out of nowhere.” He glanced towards you. “I also find it strange how he knew who you were, (Name).”

You were still turned to face where Moody disappeared. A peculiar smile stretched across your face.

“This is gonna be a good year.”

“What was that madman talking about? Late? We’re practically the first ones!” Elsie growled when you and your clique entered the spacious classroom.

“You have an unpleasant habit of insulting teachers, Elsie. One day, it’ll get you in real trouble.”

Mad-Eye Moody was nowhere to be seen, but behind a desk at the front of the classroom stood a boy with slicked-back hair streaked with a big slash of grey across the brown. He was twirling a quill; grey eyes focused on the object so you could see him from his side profile. His tired, unsmiling face turned to look at you and you spotted the burn scar covering the bottom half of his left side.

“Briaaannnn,” Winnie whined, dramatically swaying to the scar-faced teenager and enveloping him in a warm, Winnie-coded hug. “You need to eat! It’s unhealthy to be skipping breakfast.”

Brian Ashmore set the pen on a nearby desk and patted her head softly, bored eyes now focused on her form. Silence was his only response.

A mutter of voices came from the entrance behind you. It must have been five boys — four voices you didn’t recognise, one that you were very very familiar with. 

“Excuse me, could you please move out of the doorway?”

You turned around to be met by Cedric Diggory’s striking grey eyes. He stood, one book tucked under his arm, slightly ahead of his friends. His sweet smile slowly faded as he realised who he was talking to.

You eyed one another, and he and your friends fell silent watching the interaction.

“Of course, I just had to share my favourite class with Diggory,” you thought. “I forgot we had Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Hufflepuffs this year. Don’t we also have Herbology together?” You felt slightly ticked off that you shared most of Hufflepuff’s favourite class with Cedric and the 6th year of his house. If only the schedule was similar to last year, and Snape’s class was the one you had with him. At least there, you could flaunt your skills with flamboyance.

You saw a muscle tick in Cedric’s square jaw as he forced a polite smile, “Sorry, (Surname), I neglected to simplify my words so you could understand the point I am trying to make.” A couple of his friends snickered. He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but you cut him off.

“I find that wouldn’t be necessary; a prodigy like myself can comprehend simple Hufflepuff dialect,” you responded as calmly as possible, keeping yourself from punching his stupid face.

Cedric let out a sarcastic laugh. “Of course, I forgot that you defined smart as using a couple pretty words in your sentences.”

Your face contorted into a snarl, “Oh really? How’s your Exceeding Expectations in Potions doing, Diggory?” You practically spat at him, teeth bared and hands on your hips. You rolled your shoulder back to prevent your bag from slipping, keeping your aggressive attitude.

Cedric’s nostrils flared, and you knew you hit a nerve. 

But he didn’t do anything. Instead, he shoved past you to the desk at the second row furthest from the door. His friends followed suit, settling in a couple of seats near him.

You smirked triumphantly, walking over to Winnie and Brian with Elsie and Alistair confidently strutting behind you. You honestly found it rather funny how your group was sometimes more passionate about your and Cedric’s bickering than either of you.

You placed your bookbag at the desk closest to the door and chatted with your friends, waiting as students slowly filtered into the class and filled in the spots left.

Finally, as Alistair was recounting one of his dates with his girlfriend over the summer break — Elsie looked peeved, while Brian emphasised his surprise at how long their relationship was lasting — you saw the rough-looking professor limp through the door, his peg leg tapping against the wooden floor.

All of your classmates’ conversations halted at the sight of the strange man. They already saw him at the Great Feast yesterday, but they couldn’t help but stare, your friends included.

The students who weren’t seated settled into their desks. Alistair pulled back the chair to your right, the girls were at the desk directly to your right, and Brian was behind them, one of his and Cedric’s mutual friends, Leslie Westmore, to his right.

Professor Moody hobbled to the front of the class.

“Right then,” he said, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin telling me of the subjects you’ve learned from last year. Seems you’ve covered rather interesting creatures — Merfolk, Basilisks, a bit of Dragons, and Phoenixes, ain’t that right?” 

A murmur of agreement rippled through the students, and you nodded, mildly interested.

“A bit disappointing that you didn’t finish the unit on Dragons, but what you know right now is alright. But you are behind — very behind — with dealing with Dark Curses. Now, Dumbledore believes that you are old enough to study these curses only in 6th year, but I disagree. It’s never too early to learn about them. If you’d be in 3rd or 2nd year, lacking understanding would be acceptable. But you are already in 6th year, and having no knowledge of the Dark Arts — the real Dark Arts — is very very unfortunate.”

Brian raised his hand but didn’t wait to be called on to speak, “Actually, sir, Professor Lupin informed us quite a bit on the subject of the Dark Arts — specifically the Unforgivable Curses.” 

“Is that so?” Professor Moody stared directly at him with his normal eye, his prosthetic one zooming around the room, before settling down on two girls at the back, “You need to put those candies away, Miss Armstrong and Miss Hilton; my classroom is not a restaurant.”

The girls blushed and frantically put their candy back in their bags, eyes downcast with embarrassment. You felt remorse towards them, but not enough to be distracted from the lesson.

Moody continued without skipping a beat, “With that new information, I think I know where to start this lesson. Alright, everybody knows what the Imperius Curse does, yes?” After a short second with hesitant nods of approval from the students, he continued, “Good, because today you will learn how to resist it.”

By the end of the first period, a red-faced Brian, a distracted Winnie, a sore Alistair, a smug-looking Elsie, and a sympathetic you walked out of Professor Moody’s classroom.

After a couple of paces, Brian shoved his face into his hands and let out a dejected groan. You placed your hand on his shoulder, gently petting his deltoids, a solicitous smile on your lips as you tried to comfort him.

“Hey, it’s not that bad.”

He took his head out of his hand, and you saw his cheeks were rose-red. “Well, you weren’t the one who played Princess Fairy in front of the whole class, Mr. Perfect.” He sighed miserably, “One word goes around the school, I’ll be ruined!”

“Oh please,” Alistair jumped in with a hand massaging his coccyx, “I’d much rather do that than have to sit out for a single Quidditch practice because of a butt injury of all things. Blimey, he’s truly a madman…”

Next to him, you could hear Winnie humming as if she had never eaten that spider not even twenty minutes prior. Even the thought of doing the same nauseated you, so seeing your friend looking serene made you question her morality. 

Elsie shrugged, joining the conversation, "Well, at least everyone else in the class had to go through a similar experience as us, so if they are daft enough to mess with you, you could just blackmail them.” It was nice that Elsie acted sympathetic towards Alistair, but you suspected she was actually talking to Brian.

“Funny. The two only students who managed to break from the curse are comforting us,” huffed Brian.

Elsie gave him a confident half-smirk and raised her eyebrows while you shrugged with a chuckle, tugging on your bag’s straps.

“Puddings!”

The four of you engaged in the conversation halted, and you grabbed Winnie’s arm so she didn’t wander off. This snapped her back into reality, and you turned your heads to face the direction of the noise.

A pretty girl with honey-brown eyes and wavy, blond hair tied into a low ponytail ran up to your group.

You saw Alistair’s pained smile turn into his typical, white-toothed grin when she wrapped her skinny arms around his torso. She was over a head shorter than him, so she buried her face into his chest with a sing-song sigh.

Once she pulled away, Elsie eyed her repeatedly, “What do you want, White?”

The pretty blonde — a popular Pureblood Hufflepuff named Destiny White — frowned at Elsie’s cold comment, “You shouldn’t be so mean, Elsie, aren’t we friends? We don’t treat friends like that.” She paused momentarily before giving her a slightly satirical smile, “Or maybe Slytherin girls are just rude like that.”

Elsie narrowed her eyes, but when Brian touched her shoulder, she held her condescending tongue. As much as you disliked Elsie’s outbursts, you agreed that Destiny was a reasonable person to yell at.

Destiny turned back to a haughty-looking Alistair, handing him a paper envelope, “Anyways, the Weasley twins are hosting a little get-together for all the students 16 and up. We’re meeting up at 11 PM tonight in front of the Gryffindor common room so they can let us in.”

“Why would they host a party in a common room?” You inquired, confused, “Wouldn’t it wake up the younger kids?”

Destiny let out a little giggle, “The party isn’t in the common room, silly. I’d tell you the location, but that’s a little secret, and we don’t want the professors to overhear.” She lowered her voice as she spoke, “All the info is in the invitation.”

“Are we invited?” Winnie spoke up from behind you. She eyed the envelope her brother held in his hand with piqued interest.

“Of course,” Destiny stuck her hand into her pocket to retrieve four other letters, handing them to your group. Elsie was the only one who hesitated before begrudgingly plucking it from Destiny’s hand. 

Brian eyed his envelope suspiciously, “How did you get so many?”

“Fred and George want my help since I’m friends with tons of people here!”

“Thanks, Babe,” Alistair smirked, leaning down to peck her cheek, and Destiny giggled. “We’ll be there.”

They shared a quick kiss on the lips, and Destiny slowly backed away, waving her hand, “I hope to see all of you at the party,” she spun around before stopping and turning her head, eyeing Elsie with a cheeky expression, “Even those who might ruin it.”

Immediately after she was out of earshot, Elsie hissed at Alistair, red-faced with vexation, “Leave her; she’s a bitch.”

Alistair laughed, “No way. One of the perks of dating her is the way she always manages to piss you off.” He elbowed her arm playfully before advancing to his next class, too ignorant to notice the faint blush spreading across Elsie’s cheeks.

...

Thank you for reading, please comment any suggestions you have or any issues I should fix. Like I said in a Tumblr post, I will only post on Thursdays at 12 AM BST. I may post every week or every two weeks, I don't really know. It depends how long I take. For those who are interested, here's how I imagined Winnie would look like.

Chapter 2

[f1tales]

i was enchanted to meet you - cs55

i was enchanted to meet you || part one

previous part || next part

pairing: carlos sainz x singer!ofc

summary: carlos and lennon meet in baku. everything changes after that.

faceclaim: none.

Lennon Sage Abbott was fresh off her first American headlining tour when she found herself in a car on her way to her first ever Formula 1 Grand Prix. It had been her father’s dream for so long to work within the travelling circus that is Formula 1 so when the job offer was finally there, he didn’t hesitate and took the job.

Lennon was so proud of him; she always had been. Harry Abbott had worked as Chelsea FC’s physiotherapist for most of Lennon’s life. But now that both his children had left the nest, he was ready for a new step in his career:

Formula 1.

The twenty year old singer played with the lanyard that was hanging from her neck. She took in the sights of Baku that passed by the window. She had never been to Azerbaijan before in her life. It looked nice enough; she would have to explore more tomorrow.

She tore her eyes away from the sights outside as her phone vibrated from where it was laying in her lap. A silent giggle left her mouth at the name of her groupchat with Mason and Declan. Her brother, Beckett, had come up with it years ago. It stuck. It became their ‘official’ friendship group name. She opened the chat, fond memories of her childhood with Mason and Declan filling her head.

money mase lenn, i can’t believe you’d rather go to f1 than come and see us!!

money mase kidding of course, have fun! say hi to your dad

money mase wasn’t kidding completely, this f1 thing doesn’t quite compare to a match at the Bridge

dec have fun, lentil!

dec tell harry we’d like some tickets next please

Lennon grinned at the messages in the groupchat. She sent them a quick reply, thanking them for their kind words, eye roll, and that they should ask her dad for tickets themselves. They’re big boys after all, cue another eye roll.

The car came to a stop not long after. Lennon thanked the man who had opened the door for her and helped her out of the car. A bit much, if you asked her. She was more than capable of getting out of the car all by herself. Nonetheless, her parents raised a polite, young woman so she thanked the man. She looked around. People were dressed in vibrant red, papaya orange and dark blue. She tried to listen closely to a man that was now speaking. But to be honest, her focus was anywhere but at the man in the white polo in front of her.

Lennon blinked a few times when she realised the man in the polo was now staring at her expectantly. She grimaced, “sorry.” She sheepishly smiled. “I didn’t quite catch that, sorry,” she apologised. She felt her cheeks heat up ever so slightly as the man let out an exasperated sigh. She noticed how a few people around her rolled their eyes; not very discreetly even though they tried. Some just let out loud groans, not trying to be discreet about it at all.

The man once again explained about the paddock, about how to enter, where they could go, so on and so forth. The man crossed his arms over his chest, expectantly looking at Lennon again. She nodded quickly. “Got it,” she kept nodding. Her eyes squinted at the name tag on his polo: Greg.

He looked like a Greg, Lennon concluded.

Lennon squirmed slightly when she realised Greg was still looking at her. His arms were still crossed over his chest, but one of his eyebrows was raised. Lennon looked to her left and saw one of the lady’s from before, the one that had not so discreetly rolled her eyes, scanned the pass that was hanging from her neck.

Lennon put on her best smile, “thanks so much, Greg.” she patted his shoulder and then copied the lady’s moves. She was in. She took her phone from the small bag that was hanging from her shoulder. She told her father she would text him when she got here. She texted him, telling him she had finally arrived then put the phone away again. She took in the sights around her; she could understand now why they called it a circus. There was so much going on, cameras everywhere, people everywhere.

She stepped aside quickly before a guy with a big camera could knock her over. A girl with a clipboard with the Netflix logo on it apologised to her before following after the camera crew. Yep, this was quite the circus, Lennon concluded.

From her peripheral vision she caught sight of the guy in front of the camera. He had gorgeous, dark brown hair that was covered by an orange cap. Their eyes briefly met as he passed her. She politely smiled before looking down at her feet. 

Lennon fiddled with her fingers as she waited for her father. It was a habit, she tried to stop it, but she couldn’t. Whenever she was nervous, she fiddled with her fingers. A few years ago, when those fidget spinners were very popular, Lennon had millions of them. Much to Mason and Declan’s amusement, who took every opportunity to make fun of her for owning so many of them.

Oh, how she wishes she had one on her now.

“Lenn!”

A familiar voice broke her train of thoughts. Her brother, Beckett, was pushing his way through the crowd. His face scrunched together in irritation when the Netflix crew from before got in his way. He pushed the guy with the mic out of his way, receiving an equally irritated stare in return. She let out a chuckle when she was finally pulled into a tight hug.

“Dad’s treating one of the guys right now, so he’s asked me to come and get you.”

The Abbott siblings walked through what Lennon now learned was “the paddock” together. Beckett had his arm wrapped around his sister’s shoulder. Lennon listened as her brother talked to her about the paddock. He had been a lifelong race fan and their father used to take him to Silverstone every year. Lennon and her mother would usually take a trip to the lake district to visit their grandparents instead.

The younger Abbott let a huf escape her mouth, which in return gained her brother’s attention. He raised one of his eyebrows at her. Lennon cheekily smiled, “you could’ve mentioned years ago that all the cute guys come to these races! I would have attended ages ago!” she playfully hissed in his ear. She grinned as Beckett’s loud laugh could possibly be heard through the whole paddock. Lennon linked her arm through her brother’s and they continued their way to where Lennon presumed her father was right now.

“Let’s go to dad, he said he’d have lunch with us.”

Beckett leads them to what Lennon learns is the Toro Rosso hospitality. They reach it just in time for her stomach to start grumbling. The only thing she ate before leaving for the track was an apple. She overslept and missed the hotel breakfast by ten minutes. After checking his phone, Beckett tells her their dad will join them in five minutes.

“You want a Red Bull in the meantime?”

Lennon scrunches up her nose at that question, “absolutely not. Can you just get me some water?”

The siblings wait for another five minutes when their father comes through the door, a young man by his side. They laugh as they talk about something. Lennon has good hearing, but not quite good enough to hear what they are talking about.

Harry Abbott’s eyes lit up when he spotted his daughter, “Lenny Penny!”

Lennon’s cheek flush bright red at the embarrassing nickname. It doesn’t stop her from jumping out her seat and sprinting straight to her father, though. She hadn’t seen him for months and was more than happy to be wrapped up in his arms again. Harry caught his daughter as she launched herself towards him.

“Oh, honey,” he mumbled in her head, “I missed you so much.” He kissed the side of her head. Lennon checked the room, seeing everyone had stopped what they were doing and were looking at the reunion of Harry and his daughter. “You’ll have to tell me all about the tour, okay?”

Lennon grinned; she’d happily tell him about the tour. It’s not like he didn’t know everything already. Her mother had accompanied her to the USA and had debriefed her father after every concert. She’d still happily share her point of view.

She politely smiled at the young man standing next to her father. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Oh!” Harry laughed. “Lennon, this is Alexander Albon. He drives for the team.” Lennon shook his extended hand. “Alex, this is my daughter Lennon.”

Alexander, or Alex, grinned as he shook Lennon’s hand. “Big fan. Loved your album!”

“Thank you! I’d say I’m a big fan of yours, too, but I don’t know much about the sport to be honest. And I don’t want to lie to you.”

Alex burst out in laughter. He mumbled a quick ‘pleasure to meet you, Lenny Penny,’ before being ushered away by some girl. 

The Abbotts had their lunch together as they caught up on their lives. Lennon told her father and brother about the tour, her father filled her in on his new job and Beckett told them how he was so happy to finally be graduating and getting his finance degree.

After her father gave her a proper tour of the paddock, the Toro Rosso hospitality and the garage, it was nearly time for ‘lights out and away we go’. The two Abbotts made it back to Beckett with just enough time for the two to find their seats in the grandstand. Harry told them he’d see them after the race.

And Lennon would never admit it to Mason or Declan, but she found the race so much more thrilling than any of their matches. Ever. The speed of the cars, the strategies. The speed of the cars! Her heart leapt whenever a car overtook another. 

She hadn’t quite decided what would be her team yet. She liked the orange cars. And the red ones looked pretty stunning, too. She’d ask her brother later when they’d be back in the hotel. Although she was certain he would tell her to support Red Bull Racing, like he did.

The three Abbotts had gathered together at the entrance of the paddock about two hours after the race. Harry had finally wrapped up his work and was told to go so he could enjoy some time with his children.

“Lenny Penny!”

Lennon internally groaned at the nickname and cursed the day her father had come up with it. She saw Alex Albon hastily running towards her, a shit eating grin on his face as he once again called out her nickname. He was out of breath as he skidded to a halt in front of them.

“A few of us are going out tonight, care to join?”

“Sure.” she nodded. “Stop calling me Lenny Penny, though.” Lennon took her phone from her pocket and searched for Alex on Instagram. Once she found him she hit the follow button. “DM me where to meet you.”

next part coming soon

the divider is by @/enchanthings || original post

[sharoo]

'Pass On' and the theme of Limbus

So. Canto 6 was finished today.

How we feeling fellas?

After the emotional rollercoaster that was the bittersweet finale, I found myself really focusing on the end credits and the song.

And... I think the thing I kept saying over voice chat to my friends really hit me.

We all know Pass On. Most of us have some favourite version of it. But I... don't think it ever affect me quite as hard until now (even the gorgeous Ishmael rendition of it). And that's pretty understandable - Heath is my favourite Sinner after all.

But this Canto put such emphasis on that theme - the determinism of alternate universes causing you to become your worst self, Heathcliff's upbringing making him think he can never be anything but a vagrant, the tragedy of losing Cathy.

Heathcliff gets to such a hopeless low point he distorts because of it!

Yet... he's brought back. And he shows he can change, that he was always capable of changing, of getting better.

And a part of this was also Heathcliff outright saying that he's not alright. That he's still hurting. But he still decides to fight.

I cannot understate how important to me the dynamic he has with Dante in this Canto is to me, how he shows humility and outright asks them, addressing them as Manager, what he should do because he's lost. How he says their ticking is what keeps him on his path.

And now... the Pass On sequence.

The lyrics of Pass On focus so strongly on a single wish - that you can move on from what hurts you, develop, grow, to the point that, one day, when you look back on your past, you will be able to smile.

Every Sinner who sings it sings it with a different cadence. Sometimes, it's unrealistic hope, sometimes it's a realisation. In Heath's case, it's a repetition of determination, but also allowing himself to grieve.

Because his ending isn't a happy one. He does get closure in learning Cathy's true feelings, but she's gone, and now his goal has changed to returning her to reality somehow, even though he has no guarantee of it or even an idea of how he'll do it. It's bittersweet.

And, after everything he's had to endure that day, all the heartbreak and scorn and self-hatred and rage and loss, he's on the bus, and he sings. Heathcliff does something that breaks my heart - he repeats the final lyric of "It's alright". Every Sinner before has only sung it once. But he sings it, and then pauses, during which time Dante's ticking can be heard, and then he repeats it.

"It's alright."

Limbus Company is a game about how no, things are not okay right now, and we are hurting, an grieving, and despairing, but... things will be okay, someday. You have people who will be there to help you. And maybe, one day, you'll be able to smile about it.

And Pass On is the essence of that.

It's pure, unfiltered hope.

[honeybadgercomeback]

Not Yet Goodbye

Saying goodbye to colleagues is hard, especially when you know they don’t want to leave. So yes, you’ve been hiding from Daniel while he’s saying goodbye to people in the garage before his last race. But he won’t let you away without a final conversation.

—

You’d never revealed your feelings.

Originally it had been a point of pride - you co-ordinated race weekends for McLaren, determined to not fall for the faces you saw every weekend. Sleeping with someone who was one of the hundreds of faces you saw in all corners of the globe was a catastrophe waiting to happen. When it was one of the men whose employment and the sponsors he brought in meant you could keep your job, then you were even more determined. You could drool from afar, watch from a distance, but your crush would remain a crush.

But this was Daniel’s last race, and your heart was breaking at the realisation you wouldn’t be spending any time with him next week. You wouldn’t hear him call your name to ask a question about setup, wouldn’t see the wide grin that had become oh so rare. Wouldn’t get another hug after a winning race, wearing one shoe as he hopped back to his drivers room. It was November in Abu Dhabi, and you were about to stop having Daniel in your life again.

Most of your job was done and you could finally take a deep breath. Usually at this point on a Saturday you’d be planning your next flight, leaving almost as soon as the checkered flag went to the next race destination, but this time you’d just be going home to England.

He’d been saying goodbye to people all weekend, some friends in the MTC had sent photos of him there with everyone. He’d gone to every person individually to thank them, and you didn’t think you’d cope with that. You didn’t want to cope with it.

It was funny, you didn’t even think he knew your name for the first few weeks. Lando vaguely knew of you, waving and nodding to you as you rushed around to make sure everything was as it should be. He’d been in the same meetings as you about logistics, you’d explained the scenarios that would take place moving from Bahrain to Italy and how things would operate. He’d asked questions Lando and Carlos never had about how the cars would be packed away and what ways it would change, and you’d appreciated getting to explain how you worked and what you did.

This time was different. The paddock was buzzing for the end of the year and you were avoiding someone who’d been your friend. You’d heard the news he was moving to Red Bull and were delighted for him, but you’d still miss him. So you kept your head down, staring at your reports and working out exactly what was needed in your job to keep things going and get everything back to base when the race finished.

It wasn’t until after qualifying that you were cornered as you walked out of the paddock, badge around your neck, when photographers were suddenly all around you and you realised Danny was striding up to you.

“Want a ride to the hotel?” He asked and you shook your head, but he didn’t take no for an answer as you ended up in his McLaren driving to the hotel you were all staying in.

“I didn’t think I’d get a chance to talk to you. I’m not gone yet, you don’t need to avoid me.”

“I’m not avoiding you…” you trailed off, staring out into the dark night. There were lights on the water from the boats that you tried to focus on instead of the man beside you.

“But every time I try to talk to you you magically have something to do?”

“I’m bad at goodbyes. Ask Carlos, I didn’t say it to him until I saw him in a Ferrari shirt.”

“So when I turn up next year in a Red Bull shirt you’ll say it then?”

“Maybe.”

It was awkward, the drive nearly over when Daniel pulled over, the engine switching off as you stayed staring at the windscreen.

“Will you at least look at me?” He was uncharacteristically quiet and you turned, emotion visible on his face.

“I’m gonna miss you, Danny. More than I thought I would.”

You tried smiling sadly at him, pasting what you thought was a proper smile on your face.

“We can get lunch in the paddock next year? I’ll sneak you into Red Bull hospitality for catering!” It made both of you laugh, the shared jokes around the paddock surrounding that topic not lost on either of you.

“As long as you bring me Tim tams. You got me hooked, did anyone bring any with them?”

“Box of them in my room for you, I asked Mum to bring them with her.”

You were actually smiling now, and his face lit up into the grin you knew so well. Danny’s hand cupped your cheek, long thumb running over your cheekbone as you looked at him.

“Can I?” It was so intimate, the tension rising between you as you stared into his brown eyes.

“Daniel…” you leaned up, and he leaned down to kiss you.

In the quiet of a hotel room you’d let yourself imagine what kissing Daniel Ricciardo would be like. But you never thought your first kiss would be nervous in his car, his hands pulling you closer as you ran fingers through his curls, a slight groan from his throat as they caught. You couldn’t help but grin against his lips as you separated breathing heavily. Daniel paid his sweaty forehead against yours.

“I wanted to do that for a while.”

“Me too.”

The silence was interrupted by his phone ringing, Daniel picking it up and shaking his head.

“Hey Mum…yeah. I’m nearly there. Is there space for someone else? I gave someone a lift back to the hotel, she hasn’t eaten yet. Perfect, we’ll be there in five.” He hung up and turned to you to see your wide eyes. “You never eat in the paddock. And Mum’s never stopped talking about how nice you were to them when you met them, so c’mon.”

How could you reject him when he smiled at you like that? Instead you nodded and settled down so he’d finish driving. Before you got out of the car it was a squeeze of your hands as you got ready to head in.

Dinner was wonderful, a glass of wine your limit because of work the next day. You’d met every Ricciardo who was there at one race or another. Getting to spend time with them outside of a professional setting was an experience you weren’t prepared for, but it was a private room where nobody from work would see you yet. Drinking and laughing with everyone was a lot of fun, Daniel’s arm around the back of your chair making it clear that there was something between you. Grace’s eyes were glancing between the two of you and the easy way you interacted, but you just smiled until it was time for you to leave, waving goodbye. Daniel squeezed your hand in goodbye to make you smile.

The next morning was manic, everyone wanting Danny’s attention and to give him support. You stuck to your plan and got the dismantle list together as you let the chaos unfold around you. It was nice to relax and unwind while everyone else was busy. Michael stood behind you as you worked.

“He’s up in his driver room, asked if you were around.”

“I didn’t think he’d want to be disturbed?” He shook his head, watching you closely.

“You’ve never disturbed him. Go say hi.”

It was easy to slip away and to his room. Two knocks and the door opened for him to see you, his characteristic grin on his face.

“I thought you were ignoring me.” If you hadn’t spent so much time together you’d think he was joking, but instead you knew it was the little insecurities creeping out.

“I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Never.”

He leaned over to kiss you, a smile between the two of you as you separated.

“I wanted to kiss you goodbye last night, but I didn’t think you’d want me to in front of my parents. But I want this to be more than the weekend.”

“So do I.” You leaned up to press your lips to his, sealing your words with a kiss. “I believe in you, Daniel. And I want to believe in us. Outside all this chaos and the paddock we’ve got something. I’ll see you after the race, ok?”

“Definitely.”

He gave you one final kiss, eyes shining and his hand squeezing yours as Michael came around the corner to see the two of you standing there.

“Sorry lovebirds, he’s needed in the garage. Glad to see you’ve finally done something about this tension.”

“Was it that obvious?” You asked, your face starting to heat in embarrassment.

“Lando owes me money, he was convinced neither of you would do anything about it. I figured you would though.”

“Thanks?” Dan said, squeezing your wrist in goodbye before going out. You took a moment to get yourself together before heading out, all smiles thanks to the cameras you knew would be lurking around the garage. No matter what was happening in your personal life it was work that needed to come first.

Standing around in the garage and watching the cars get ready to leave never failed to take your breath away. It was beautiful, the way it seemed like abject chaos but was a tightly choreographed moment. Your orange and black shirt was on display and someone had stuck a Stetson on your head for Danny. He spotted you and smiled. Once everyone was back from the pit lane you found yourself beside Danny’s family. His mother reached over for you to tuck you in with the family.

“How long have you kept that quiet?” She asked as the cars started their formation lap.

“I’m not sure what you—“

“I know my son well. The way he was last night isn’t anything new, so how long have you been together?”

“Last night. We’re still working it out, but we said it just as you called him. We’re working out what’s going on. But it could be something.”

Telling the mother of the man you’d kissed all of four times that you were starting something was hard, but her smile was worth it. You caught sight of a camera watching you as you’d been speaking, nerves hitting you around what people could say seeing you there. It wasn’t unusual to have paddock gossip. But this felt different. It felt special.

Your heart was in your throat as the group of you watched the race. Daniel pitted only once, the mechanics coming in and out for him and Lando as you stared. The screens showed just how close Seb was to him. You hated not wanting Seb to pass him out but those final seconds and watching Danny make P9 made the garage erupt in cheers. Both drivers in points, Daniel making up four places, it was as good a performance as you could dream of. Arms wrapped around you as you cheered and jumped up and down.

The monitors showed him doing donuts alone and you smiled at the display. It didn’t take long for him to arrive back to the garage. You slipped out of the family area to go pretend to be working and keep things private as possible. Grace squeezed your arm as you left, a smile between the two of you.

The garage was a hive of people starting to break down, tyres being returned to Pirelli and people starting to get ready. There were parties happening but you weren’t in the mood for them, too focused on keeping an eye on what was happening.

A hand clasped your wrist and you turned, Daniel standing there and pulling you into a kiss.

“Hey,” you murmured, too aware of the crowds around you despite the wall hiding you.

“I’m not worried if you’re not.”

“Not yet?”

He separated and smiled, awareness clear on both faces. It was beginning to get even busier, parties starting up and down the paddock.

“Come out with me tonight?” He asked and you nodded. “We’re doing a family dinner tonight, Mum wants you there. Michael will be there too. Please? And we can talk about a relationship later? This isn’t just an end of year thing for me.”

You smiled, gripping his hand tightly.

“It’s not just for me either. Let’s go out.” He was surprised as you held onto him to leave your little cubby, eyes on the two of you in the garage.

“I owe Michael so much money,” Lando groaned as he came over and stared at your hands.

“Why were you betting on us anyway?” Daniel asked, his spare hand lifting up his niece.

“What else were we supposed to do? It was a boring year really.”

You just laughed, Daniel pulling you in for a kiss on your forehead. No matter what happened next year with your jobs it felt right, and that’s all you cared about.

[zahri-melitor]

What was the purpose of the New 52? Was it really a failure?

There’s a loaded essay topic!

The purpose of the New 52, to my best understanding, was stated to be the opportunity to tell stories that were less weighed down with continuity and allow a clear starting point for new fans to hop on board and start reading comics.

Basically, COIE and Post-Crisis is a successful version of what they wanted! COIE did in fact reset the universe and make a nice clear boundary for fans, and while if you dig in, particularly to 1980s comics, it wasn’t always as clean or tidy as people think of it being, and it created some weird discontinuities requiring additional retcons (Donna’s everything being the most famous, particularly to tumblr), it created a 25 year long largely coherent story where characters grew and changed over about 5 in-universe years of narrative.

Let’s look at Wally, because he’s emblematic of it. Wally in 1986 was a young adult who just lost his father figure, was expected to step up and take on a role he had never expected to need to take, especially that young, and was a kid from a fairly conservative background who had never examined his views.

Wally by 2011 was a fully grown adult who had a wife, kids, extended family, a career, was fully respected in his role as the Flash, and had found his views becoming significantly more progressive over time as he was exposed to more of the world.

This is fantastic long form story telling. The problem is to tell long range generational storytelling is that you have to be willing to allow those legacies to occur and the character focus to shift. And that makes fans of older characters, particularly the ones giving up their legacies, mad and long for their faves to be back in their prime.

Enter the New 52.

New 52 was an attempt to cut this Gordian knot. If they created a new timeline where superheroes only had 5 years of history, then that meant that the classic Silver Age headline characters couldn’t be ‘too old’ to still be realistically running around doing what they do. They had to be in their late 20s-early 30s! Young! Hot! Spritely! Relatable to a new generation!

While some of these characters did have 70+ years of history, the thing is that nearly 50 years of it (1938-1986) had already been compressed and glossed down to basics. Nobody can actually tell you what happened the year Dick Grayson was 14 years old. You can build one from old storylines if you wanted to have it! But it's not as easy as pointing to a run of comics and saying "during this Dick was 14".

This left two significant problems in tension with each other:

The intention to make Bruce, Clark, Hal, Barry, Ollie, Arthur, Diana etc about 30ish years old and the key adult members of the DCU to revolve stories around.

Everyone from the Titans on down therefore had to get significantly younger to fit into a 5 year history, but a lot of these characters ALSO had active fans and writers wanted to use them.

And then, on top of that? Because the intention for resetting to a new universe was to remove the burden of backstory from storytelling, the editors and various offices...never sat down and worked out together what the new history contained.

This led to the wild situation where The Flash, for instance, was reset to a pre-1986 state where there wasn't even a KID FLASH, and basically every member of the Garrick-Allen-West-Chambers-Mercury Flash Family not named Barry Allen or Iris West had ceased to exist (and uh, given it's the Flashes, only ONE character with each of those names existed). While over in Batman, the writers tried to hang onto everything and they cut ten years out of the timeline mostly from discarding Dick's history, so that Bruce had 4 Robins in 5 years.

This obviously created a lot of the issues. Because there was no structure as to what was in or out in the new universe, writers just...did whatever. And contradicted each other. And when they realised the contradictions, tried to write retcons to excuse it. (Was Tim Drake Robin or not? Depends on which writer you ask!)

Was it successful?

In the short term, in terms of sales? Yes, absolutely. DC managed to get a bunch of new readers in, as was the financial intention. It also did allow for a shift in focus on some characters: it's where basically all of Damian Wayne's stories that people like as stories (and not as concepts) exists; it's where Jason Todd's modern characterisation as an antihero and dynamic with the other Bats was established; it brought back a bunch of older properties that hadn't been seriously used in years back into the spotlight; due to the fixation on having 52 titles running at all times it gave a lot of characters opportunities to headline titles that hadn't got that in a long while, and the opportunity to try out different styles of storytelling; it provided the opportunity for modern rewrites of origins for some characters that needed some retcons applied - Morrison's Superman is well regarded and both Aquaman and Green Arrow's origin rewrites for instance put things together more coherently and discarded some outdated elements. Blue Beetle's rework of Jaime's history to keep the main elements but excise the fact it was so reliant on Infinite Crisis was actually better considered than people give it credit for.

The bigger issue was the lack of planning meant that the timeline became a burden on the whole initiative, particularly given how many fans were asking for the return of beloved characters and dynamics that had been wiped away or rendered unrecognisable in the reset. On top of that, there was the conception that they could just abandon the whole timeline again at the end of 5 years and start over, so large radical changes were fine and wouldn't have ongoing effects.

Also, the initial boost of sales from being able to announce brand new titles, like every time an #1 is announced, trickled away. Yes, it was the entry point for a generation of new fans. But also it wasn't any more turnover in terms of new fans than in any other period, on the long term view. There were still more people who were comics fans of DC who were long term fans than there were new fans, buying comics 2-3 years in, and those are the sort of fans who DO want the continuity back. They've got decades of favourite stories that they were told no longer mattered, and they wanted them to matter. And they lost a whole chunk of fans who reacted to New 52 like it was a contact poison and...stopped buying DC comics.

And so, like a pyramid scheme or a shell game or a company expanding too fast, it started to fold in like a pack of cards. DC found itself frantically relaunching more and more titles in 2014 and 2015 as they tried to regain the new feeling momentum of 2011. Their timelines needed people who cared deeply about the characters to go over things and reinterpret them to make things flow, and most of the people interested in doing that were trying to reinstate pre-Flashpoint continuity elements.

And that's why eventually, in 2016, we got Rebirth.

I don't think it was an outright failure. There are salvageable elements. But I think the damage it did to the company reputation and to their ability to exploit what makes cape comics distinct and unique as a storytelling form far outweighed the benefits gained.

And the recovery process from trying to turn the situation around has been long, drawn out, and is still ongoing for some characters.

[outsideratheart]

Too Much Teasing (Mapi Leon x reader)

A/N: You guys voted for the Mapi fic so here it is. I hope you like it!

Based off this request.

Life worked in mysterious ways and the past couple of years proved that. In a shock transfer you left Arsenal, your childhood club and the team that brought you up through the academy, for Barcelona.

The Spanish game came very easy to you but life off the pitch was more of a challenge. You are naturally a guarded person but there was one girl that managed to knock down your walls within the first few weeks. You and Mapi bonded over your shared love of tattoos, art and late night walks around the city.

You would see each other everyday which made being back in England for the Euros that much harder. Due the Barcelona's schedule you left for camp the morning after the Copa De La Reina final and you wouldn't be returning to Spain till August, should the tournament end with the Lionesses lifting the trophy.

But the thing about playing in Spain is that it sometimes felt like you lived two lives. For example, your England team mates had no clue you were dating the Zaragoza native. You were planning on telling them during the Arnold Cup but it was your first tournament as Captain and Mapi wanted you to focus. You were keeping the most important thing in your life from some of the most important people in your life.

You missed your girlfriend dearly and whilst you wanted nothing more than to drive to Marlow to see Mapi on your days off you know you couldn't so you settled for phone calls, more specifically late night phone calls. You walk aimlessly around the Teddington compound talking to Mapi about everything and anything. The sound of your girlfriend's voice had the power to distract you from the pressure that came with being the home favourites.

"Te quiero mucho baby"

You end the phone call and try your best to enter your room quietly as not to wake up your room mates.

"I take it i'll meet your secret girlfriend when I come to Barcelona?"

Lucy's voice makes you jump in your spot. Like every other night, you expected her to be asleep. You decide to ignore her question, choosing instead to get ready for bed but the defender continues her questioning whilst you’re in the bathroom.

"Will I meet her over dinner or at a team meeting?"

"Team meeting. Now no more questions" you warn her but she doesn't care.

"Am I going to be playing against her on Thursday?"

You freeze. Yes you were aware that England would be playing Spain in the quarter finals but what didn't register is that you are going to be playing against, and possibly beating, some of your closest friends.

"No way! You're dating Alexia!"

"What? No"

"It's just that you didn't answer"

"Because i've just realised that the next game we play will destroy mine and your team mates dreams of winning the euros"

"I thought you knew that. Isn't that the reason why you have been sad when you don't think people are watching?"

"I miss her a lot. This is longest we have been apart in a while and i'm finding it hard not being around her" You felt lighter having said out loud what you have been feeling for the last week.

You really wished that you could see Mapi before you play each other in Brighton. The fact that you wouldn't led to you being in a sour mood the next morning and it seemed to give the some of the players the perfect opportunity to make your mood worse.

"Hello grumpy, did somebody not get enough sleep?" Meado pokes your cheek as she sits down next to you.

"What can I say, Lucy snores like a pig" you know it wasn't your best work but hopefully it would change the direction of the teasing.

"No I don't!" Lucy argues "your grumpiness has nothing to do with me, it's because you miss your girlfriend"

"LUCY!" you glare at her from across the table.

"What?" the defender is no where near awake enough to realise what she has just said.

"Y/N has a girlfriend" Ella sings

"Who?"

"Is she english?"

"No she'll be Spanish"

"Is she hot?”

"Of course she is, look at Y/N" Alessia casually says.

"Lessi, you think i'm hot?" you ask the blonde knowing that she will get embarrassed.

"What, no" her response earns a scoff from you "no, I didn't mean that. I mean that you are, well you're you, we all see the way the fans obsess over you and some even flirt with you even though you don't back which I think is strange"

"It's because she has a girlfriend" Georgia turns the attention back to you.

This time instead of them asking questions they start guessing who it could be. They name the entire Spanish national team as well as the more known players in the league. Hempo is the one that guesses correctly but no way are you letting her know that.

In the end you walk away from the table, not that any of them have realised. Their attention was now on the non Spanish players playing in Spain. You make yourself another cup of coffee hoping that it will do one of two things, wake you up and ease the interrogation that you will be returning to.

"Y/N"

"What!" you snap.

When you turn around you are met with Ellen who has your phone.

"Your phone kept going off" The older forward passes you your phone. When you glance at your screen you see the name and a photo of the two of you which was taken over the Christmas period in Zaragoza.

"Mapito?" Ellen question.

"I called her it once, she changed the name of the contact" you explain.

The look on Ellen's face isn't one you recognise. It's similar to when she is happy about something but this expression has a hint of something else.

"I'm proud of you Y/N. I used the think you would never allow yourself to have a life off the pitch"

It wasn't what you were expecting her to say but you feel a warmth grow inside of you. She was right, for a long time you was solely focused on your career and everything else came second to that. Now you have someone who you will happily spend the day with and not give football a second thought whilst you are with her.

"Oh and one more thing" Ellen says "You don't have to worry about me telling them but please make sure you don't let it cloud your judgement during the game"

"Thank you Ells and you don't have to worry about that, I won't let them go back to Spain with bragging rights"

You try and think of the best place to call Mapi back, as you wander the ground you choose the garden at the front of the hotel. Butterflies flooded your tummy as you wait for her to pick up.

Mapi picks up but before she acknowledges that you have called her, you hear her shouting at Leila, then the other defender's voice comes through the phone.

"Y/N, you need to sort your girlfriend out. She is a sexually frustrated mess and only you can give her the pleasure she needs" Leila blatantly tells you.

"Yeah Y/N" your hear Pina's voice "Mapi is so in love with you that she seems to hate all of us when you're not here"

You found a tiny bit of comfort knowing that your girlfriend was subject to the same teasing you were getting.

"That's not true. She just loves me more now please give her the phone back"

You hear the sound of the line change and you know that one of them has put the phone on speaker.

"She's counting down the days until she can kiss away your sorrows when we beat you" Patri joins in.

"I admire your confidence or maybe it's your stupidity. Besides from what Mapi has told me, Jorge has been working you to the bone so it will be my pleasure to send you home so that you can all have some time off before pre season"

"I hate it when you do that"

Now you heard the voice of the woman you originally wanted to talk to.

"What's that maps?" you ask her.

"You say something mean but you do it in the nicest way possible"

"It's one of my many skills"

"I prefer your other skills"

"Mapi! There are kids around" you say referring to her younger team mates, who you happen to be close with as well.

"I'm alone now and I really wish I wasn't" you could hear the frustration in her voice.

"Maria Leon, do you always have sex on your mind?" you tease her.

"Sex, no. Sex with you, yes. Can you honestly say you don't miss me or that you don't crave my touch?"

"No, I can't. I miss you and everything that comes with you"

"We are not leaving our apartment for a week when we get home" Mapi's promise was something you looked forward to but it was also unrealistic.

"I wish that was true"

"Me too"

The line goes quiet and for a second you think she has hung up but then you hear her breathing and it worries you.

"We'll be ok after the game won't we? I know one of us will lose but it won't affect me and you will it?"

"You mean our relationship?"

Mapi hums in response.

"Of course not. I love playing football but nothing in this world means more to me than you. Is that what's got you so stressed out?" part of you knew something bigger was going on with your girlfriend. To most of the world she has this tough exterior but it couldn't have been further from the truth.

"The girls keep saying that if we beat you then you will break up with me"

"Which girls?" you asked the question even though you had your suspicions.

"Leila and —“

"I'll speak to her" you hated that the girls were teasing Mapi despite knowing how sensitive she can be "As for me breaking up with you, well the chances of that happening are lower than you beating us and that is very low"

"You know that playing against me will be harder than playing against any other team"

The cockiness in her tone was back and although you knew you could beat her, doing so would be very difficult.

"Oh yeah, why is that?"

"Because I know how you think and how you play. I know your mind and your body"

You hated thinking about the power Mapi had over. She was right when she said you knew your mind and body, at this point it practically belonged to her. Your mind was at it's calmest when she was around and your body yearned for her whenever you were away.

A short distance away you see Ella and Alessia hiding, no doubtedly eavesdropping on your call and whilst most people would end the conversation you are about to have or at least steer it in a different direction, you saw the chance to teach the young forwards a lesson.

"You do? What is my body thinking right now?"

Their eyes widen at your words but they don't move. It's as if the stare you give is causing them to be frozen in place.

You try to keep the rest of the conversation as vague as possible but Mapi makes it very difficult because for every reply you give she responds with a suggestion that makes you want to drive all the way to Marlow.

In the end Mapi gets called away which ends the call a lot sooner than you wanted but you know you are in for quite the teasing, that's if Ella and Alessia have the guts to share details of your call with the rest of the team.

"My little devils, what am I going to do with you?" you put an arm around each of their shoulders.

The three of you walk back through the hotel in silence. It is clear the younger girls don't feel comfortable discussing what they heard on the phone. That is until you reach the breakfast room where some of the players are still lounging about.

"Y/N was having phone sex with her girlfriend" Tooney shouts.

"Ella!" Me and Alessia say in unison.

It wasn't that you didn't expect her to say anything, it’s more so the fact that she announced it to the whole room as soon as she entered.

"And you did it in front of the kids?" Jill jokes.

Jill then proceeds to console a scared Ella but you couldn't care less.

"The kids happened to be eavesdropping and I was enjoying my phone call way to much to stop on their behalf"

Some of the younger players fake gagged at the thought but the older players knew you wouldn't have said anything that bad given that you had kept your relationship a secret, so your sex life wouldn't be any different.

"Give me three clues" Leah asks when you take at a seat at her table, which also sat Lucy, Keira, Georgia, Millie and Rachel.

You expected better from your co captain but you knew the clues you would give and your friends would hate them.

"Fine" you reply much to the table's surprise "3 clues. She's from Spain, she speaks Spanish and she plays for Barcelona"

The first two are obvious but the third clue let’s them narrow down their list of names.

"Did you really have phone sex knowing they could hear you?" Millie asks.

"God no. Do you really think I'm going to have that kind of conversation in public where everyone can hear me and where I can do nothing to satisfy the urges that come with it?"

"Y/N!"

"Just saying"

When the team arrive at the stadium a few days later, they watch you and wait to see if you will give away the identity of your Spanish girlfriend. You on the other hand start to get nervous about what this game means and what it will take in order to reach the semi finals. You would have to outplay the people who you, for the most part, train with every day.

You wanted nothing more than to skip right through the pitch inspection. Since finding out you were dating a Barcelona player, the team have been teasing you relentlessly and you didn't have the energy to go toe to toe with them today. When you walk out onto the pitch you see that the Spain team are already there and when you see a certain defender you remember that you need to talk to her. The team watch as you and the Spanish national walk away and you can hear them shouting things but given the eyes around them the don't say that much.

"Y/N" Leila wraps her arms around you "I've missed you chica"

The conversation you had with Mapi kept replaying in your head. The seeds of doubt that her friends had planted began growing and you couldn’t doing anything to stop them, not right now anyways.

"Leila"

"Am I in trouble?" you nod your head "Why?"

"Do you know why Mapi is worried i'll break up with her?" from where you stand you can see your girlfriend bent down at the centre circle doing her own inspection, something that is part of her pre match routine.

"It was a joke which now that I see your face I realise isn't funny"

"She is one of your best friends, you know how sensitive she is. Just think before you say things that will stick in her head. Now we're going to see her so that you can apologise"

"You just want me to come with you so that your team doesn't get suspicious"

There’s no need for you to respond, she is right and she knows it.

"Hi"

Mapi's head snaps up at the sound of your voice.

"Hola bonita" she stands up and gives you a hug, one that doesn't last no where near as long as she wanted.

No words are exchanged, both of you break out in a smile, just being within touching distance is enough for now.

"Is this my punishment? Being made to stand here whilst you eye fuck each other?" Leila groans. She is used to be the third wheel in Barcelona having joined you and Mapi on date night more than a few times but the tension between the two of you makes her feel a little uncomfortable.

"Punishment?" Mapi looks to see you with a smug grin plastered across your face.

"Right, yes. Leila is there something you would like to say?"

"I'm sorry for saying Y/N would break up with you when we destroy the lionesses"

"Destroy?" you laugh slightly at the defender's optimism.

"You know I love your confident side but Leila's right, we will go back to Spain victorious"

"I know don't what's worse, the fact you think you're going to win or that you just said Leila's right"

Leila asks if you'll walk back with her stating that she had something she wanted to talk to you about. The conversation ended with you walking back into the tunnel with your arms wrapped around her shoulder whilst your hand rested on her waist.

Your team mates takes you spending most of the time with the brunette as confirmation, they are determined that you are dating Leila Ouahabi. In the locker room you got question after question about how your relationship starting and it didn't both you in the slightest, how could it, they had the wrong person. Once you re entered the locker room after warm up the teasing stopped and the game faces appeared.

The match ended with England going through to the semi final but you couldn't bring yourself to celebrate. This would go down as the worst win in your career but being the captain came with duties that you couldn't get out of. You thanked the fans and did your interview but neither of those could keep your focus because no matter where you were on the pitch you could see your friends in red consoling each other.

"Aren't you going to console your girlfriend?" Lucy asks.

"You know what, yes I am" you had watched from a distance for long enough.

Lucy who had been joined by Keira watches are you walk towards the group of Barcelona players. Like Lucy expected you went to Leila first but for you it was because she was the closest person to you, funnily enough Mapi is the last person. You had seen her wear a brave face for the sake of her team mates but it is only when she is in your arms does she drop the facade.

"I'm sorry" you subtly kiss her neck.

The embrace between you is different than the one you shared with your other team mates. When you lift you head up you see Lucy watching with shocked expression. When you unclasp your hands that are settled on the small of Mapi's back, you send Lucy the middle finger. The action let's her know that she was wrong and in doing so you tell her who you're dating.

"What's that about?" Keira asks.

"You'll find out when you join me in Barcelona"

"Shhh" Keira shoves her girlfriend "I told you it was a secret"

You stay out on the pitch as long as the Spain team does. You have no intention of celebrating the win and you hoped the fans and your team would understand this. When the stadium starts to empty, the players leave the pitch.

"Do you they know about us?" Mapi asks as she walks in sync beside you.

"Ellen does but the rest think I'm dating Leila"

This causes Mapi to stop in her tracks. Her eyes go wide in shock and she finds herself getting angry. She didn't like the act the world didn't know you were hers but your team mates thinking that you were with Leila, that she really didn't like.

"I'm not ok with that"

At this point you are practically in the tunnel so you grab her hand and pull her into one of the treatment rooms. You were grateful for the privacy it gave you and under any other circumstance you would be up for having a little bit of fun but you can tell by Mapi's face that she is very serious about this.

If her face didn't give it away, her choosing to pace the small room instead of sitting with you on the physio bench with you did.

"You're my girlfriend, not Leila's, and I don't want your team thinking you are dating my best friend"

To see Mapi care this much about people, who to her are strangers, is a rarity. You didn't care much for other people's opinions so whether the team knew or not, didn't matter. This was something you thought Mapi agreed with you on but her reaction tells you otherwise.

"Mapi" you voice is soft as you try to get her attention.

"I know that it's me who chose not the tell them at the beginning of the year but that was a mistake. They should know that you are mine and not hers"

Now she is getting territorial, a side which rarely ended well in the past. Mapi didn't like to share but this isn't sharing, your team don't even think of Mapi when they think of your relationship which makes it worse.

"Maria" you hope using her birth name will make her stop but it doesn't.

"Y/N I love you and I don't want them thinking you love Leila. You love me"

"Yes, I do"

Fatigue was beginning to set in. After playing 120 minutes of football your legs were getting heavy and given that Mapi had the job of keeping up with you for the game, you knew she would be feeling the same yet she continues to pace back and worth as she worked through her frustrations.

"Do they think Leila makes you happy? That she can love you the way I do? Make you feel the way I do? That—"

"Maria Pilar Leon Cebrian"

"Yes" she stops pacing when she is in line with you.

Using your index finger you signal her to come close to you. Her face changes and you know it's because she has finally noticed you are in a room together, alone. When she is close enough you take a fistful of her shirt to close the remaining distance between the two of you. Mapi’s hand cups the back of your neck as your lips crash into each other. The time you spend away from each other never get’s easier and it makes the reunions that much more intense. Nothing else matters in that moment other than to rid Mapi of the insecurities she is clearly feeling. When you pull away it is only for a second to catch your breath and then you are leaning back in, hungry for more and by the way Mapi mouth moves in sync with yours she obviously misses the connection you shared just as much as you did.

You are so caught up in the moment that you don’t hear the door open, nor you do you hear the voices that belonged to your team mates. At first they say nothing, they simply stand there and watch the two of you. They didn’t know what to do, they didn’t want to move in case they made a noise and it was clear that the two of you didn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

It is only when you start to lift Mapi’s t-shirt do they make themselves known.

“Sorry to interrupt but this is the treatment room and some of the others are on their way here” Chloe gives you a heads up.

What they didn’t see is that you already have your shirt off and Mapi being mapi, she didn’t bother putting hers on fully, instead it stays hung around her neck.

Just then another door open, one that you didn’t even notice was there and given the commotion that you can hear on the other side let’s you know it connects to the lionesses locker room. Your suspicions are proven true when you see Ella and Georgia, their eyes widen at the sight in front of them, you half dressed and Mapi not that much better

“Hempo!” Georgia shouts “You were right. Y/N’s secret girlfriend is Mapi Leon” 

Mapi still stands in between your legs and shows no sign of moving. You rest your head against her chest hoping that if the two of you stay still and quiet then the team will leave you alone but that doesn’t happen.

“How do you know?” Beth comes into the small treatment room followed by a couple more of your team mates.

You thought the teasing was bad before but now they know the identity of your girlfriend they have a lot more material to use against you. Something that is surprising is that a few of them tease Mapi even though they haven’t really met her other than on the pitch.

You tap Mapi’s sides indicating her to move away so you can stand up and put your shirt back on and help her with hers. You quickly peck her on the lips before taking her hand and dragging her into the Lionesses locker room. If you introduced her properly then maybe the night back at the hotel won’t be complete torture.

“Mapi meet the lionesses, girls meet Mapi my girlfriend”

You can see the grin that spreads across Mapi’s face upon hearing you officially introduce her as your partner. She had been waiting for this for months and you had too.

“Wait” Rachael interrupts the questions that the girls have “I thought you were dating Leila Ouahabi, their number 15”

“No, she is not’ Mapi corrects her rather abruptly “She is my girlfriend” 

You had just managed to settle down her territorial side and now, without knowing, Rachael had woken it back up.

“But Y/N spent all her time pre match with her, not you” Millie joined in and by the smirk of her face you know that she, for some reason, felt confident enough to tease the spaniard.

Mapi is ready to fight for you even though it is unnecessary and you really didn’t want her going back into her changing in a foul mood given that most her team will be feeling rough because of the final score.

“You sure you want to tease her millie?” You know Mapi wouldn’t hurt a fly but there is a reason why she got ‘looks can be deceiving’ on her neck.

Mapi picks up on the game you are playing and she changes her face. Safe to say Millie steps back without saying another word.

You lead Mapi out of the changing room but one of your team mates can’t help themselves. They had to tease your girlfriend on last time.

“Sorry we beat you and sent you back to Spain” Alessia says confidently.

Mapi knew she was one of the players you had taken under your wing but she can’t let the young forward get away with it.

“It’s ok. We’ll beat you in the champions league. Oh, wait, no we won’t. You didn’t qualify” 

At the mention of United Ella stands up ready to defend her club and after the game you had just played you really didn’t have the energy to play mediator between your girlfriend and the devils.

You push Mapi out the door but pull her back for one more kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast before you go back to Barcelona” 

Mapi deepens the kiss and you don’t have the will power you push her away, not at first anyways. It is only when you hear a mixture of wolf whistles and fake gagging do you end the kiss. 

“I’ll see you in the morning. Te quiero Y/N”

“Yo también te quiero” 

Upon re-entering your locker room you see all eyes on you. Let the teasing begin, again.

[violetsandshrikes]

how do you help so many different kinds of people? i have noticed you know about lots of different things and meet lots of different people. i want to do that but i cant figure out how? /gen

A little bit of background is probably needed:

I have had people ask me this before, and honestly I had a little bit of a cheat code. While my life has been filled with a lot of trauma and bad shit, I was raised by a mother from an incredibly leftie family who walked the talk when it came to values and doing the work.

She had a lot of ideas imparted on us from a young age: social and community responsibility, ideas of collectivism, eduction. Even as a poor, trapped young mother, she was believed that many people behaved badly based on ignorance outside their very limited bubble, and that when life became difficult economically or socially, people would immediately point fingers at groups they knew little about or saw as distinctively different in order to have a blameable target.

From about 4-5, outside typical schoolwork, my mother also taught us about the world. This included different conflicts and genocides (which may sound horrific to some people, but basic information and explanation was given, and then it got more in depth with age), different countries and cultures (often she would randomly select a country from a world map, and we would spend a set amount of time learning everything we could about the place, culture, people, etc), different religions (I attended many different types of religious institutes at least once, and my mother often found people willing to talk about their belief system with us), volunteering, etc.

I have definitely had a head start and a lot more guidance than many people, which I am incredibly grateful for. It can also make it difficult to advise though.

Realistically:

Honestly, the two best things you can do if you don’t know where to start are: listen and learn. Find any local group, start participating and volunteering. Listen to the stories of people there. Ask questions. Expose yourself to all sorts of different ideas and opinions.

In the last year, I’ve started doing a little throwback to my childhood. I have a schoolbook, and I choose random topics, and spend a few hours every week learning basic things about it. Choose a country, choose a place, a time in history, a religion, a culture, a people. You don’t have to be a scholar. You just have to expand your horizons.

As you get involved with more things, you will begin to narrow down your core values. This is good: you can’t do everything at once. I would say roughly 2-3 core issues or topics you care about is good (this doesn’t mean that you don’t care about things happening outside it - it just means you don’t spread yourself thin). There’s different things people make their focus: LGBTQ+ issues, BIPOC issues, environmental issues, homelessness, disability, refugee issues, etc. Your core focus will be the ones you feel most passionate about, which is good, because it means you will put in genuine work and care, and you will lower the risk of burning out fast and being of help to no one, including yourself.

You also have to get comfortable with the fact you will never be perfect. You will never be up to date with every idea and practice. There is always something you will need to learn or unlearn. Becoming rigid about being correct all the time will make you more of a menace than a help to any reputable movement or group. You might feel uncomfortable when you realise the gap or misunderstanding you had - that’s normal. Be open to learning and expanding your understanding of things vs burying your head in the stand stubbornly. I say things and then months later I realise that actually, I don’t agree with that anymore, or my understanding has deepened, or changed, or pivoted. This tends to make people feel very bad or uncomfortable, but you have to get to the stage where again, you acknowledge that that’s normal.