#rambling for 12 hundred words

[roseofhybrids]

I can't recall if I ever went on a ramble about a MD head canon I have (I feel like I have, but maybe I've just thought about it so often that I've convinced myself I've made a post about it. Either way, let us endulge in the fixation)

it's about the worker drones' simultaneous crippling fear of the disassembly drones and general indifference to death.

Here's a cut because this ended up way longer than I thought it would-

Just about every worker drone is terrified of the murder drones (reasonably so, as they can peel one of them open like a mechanical orange) and yet in spite of this, they show a blatant disregard for safety once the sky demons are out of sight.

First two times we see something like this happen is when Khan lets Uzi go outside at night to "look at the door hydraulics" and later when the WDF guard corrects N on the name gin rummy instead of running for his life. Now, maybe Khan was too excited about Uzi showing an interest in doors to think about the potential danger, and maybe worker drones are big dumb dumbs most of the time.

But then you have situations like in the promening and cabin fever where groups of drones will initially show fear before quickly relaxing around the murder machines. They go from shaking in fear after watching one of their classmates being shot to offering friendship and poking one of them in the face in mere minutes.

So, why do they go from terrified to unbothered so fast.

Well, we know the drones on Copper 9 were mostly used for mining, a dangerous job that can have deadly accidents even when human safety standards are in place. So, JCJenson has to program these drones to dig up the ore, carry it to the surface, process it, et cetera. Building and repairing robots costs money, so ideally you'd want to minimize them getting damaged in the most cost-effective way possible. Safety measures decrease production and safety equipment costs money, so what are they to do?

My head canon/theory is that they programmed the drones to avoid situations that will damage themselves. Something to stop them from walking into pits and sticking their heads between moving gears. So if a drone sees another drone get broken by something, they're programmed to avoid the thing that lead to their buddy getting killed. See another drone get crushed by a rock? Avoid loose boulders. See another drone fall into a smelter? Avoid moving along the edge of the catwalk. And so on and so forth.

But you don't want them to be too careful. After all, if you program them with too much anxiety they'll be too scared to work, which will decrease production. So they also programmed them to proceed if they see that there's no immediate danger. Sure, three drones fell into a sinkhole in this area last month, but Steve's standing over there and not falling into the ground, so it must be safe. With this, also comes an explanation for their indifference to death, even when it happens to friends or family. If a drone grieves losing a coworker, then they won't work as well. So once the initial fear of seeing another being breaking passes, they move on and get back to setting off explosions (standing a few extra feet away this time).

Going back to the scenes from The Prommening and Cabin Fever-

The crowd is initially scared of V when she drops in. But when Lizzy explains that they're friends and insists that they "forgive and forget" they go right to clapping and cheering. As soon as the known threat proves to be safe, the fear switches off.

Cabin Fever is an even better example. They've all just watched V shoot another drone. N acts very friendly, but they remain afraid. That is, until Lizzy and Thad move to stand next to the two murder drones. They see the two not die by doing this, and immediately the entire group relaxes and are soon treating N and V as though they're just your run-of-the-mill drone. The worker teens only show fear again when they do something that could threaten them. Such as at the archery range when V points the bow at them.

They show similar behavior around Uzi that episode as well. When ever her presence is brought to their attention, there's visible fear. This makes sense with her past behavior in mind. Railgun exploding in class, taking over classmate's sentience, general violence. She's proven to be a potential danger, and so they're afraid when first seeing her. When she doesn't immediately do anything to harm another drone, they soon calm down to the point that they forget she even exists. She makes herself known when the bus arrives at camp Fear till their attention is drawn to the teacher and then the murder drones She shows up at the archery range and arrow into a flesh beast Fear until she runs away, name then forgotten She rips a drone's head off and pauses for dramatic effect In those few seconds of not killing her, Lizzy switches from afraid to criticizing her

It's like once the "threat" is resolved, their brains determine she isn't worth focusing on to the point of the drones forgetting her name. (In particular, Lizzy is really unbothered by almost getting killed in that episode. Possibly because she's been spending time with V? A sort of desensitization)

After all, if another drone isn't a danger, and they aren't working alongside them (not in the same mining team, not in the same clique) it isn't worth it to have info on them and tosses it to the recycling bin.

We see the solver drones and disassembly drones break this line of behavior. Along with Khan, Thad, and Lizzy to an extent. (Which, in all fairness, could just be main character privileges)

Khan of course shows to still care about Nori's death years after the fact, as well as concern about Uzi leaving at the end of the pilot. I think it's worth noting how the other WDF members in episode 2 react to him prioritizing Uzi over building a door. Calling the idea "cringe" and displaying general annoyance and sickness at the idea. Is it just because it's Khan and Uzi, or do drones just see anyone putting family over work as strange?

Thad isn't afraid of Uzi and doesn't have a negative view of her like the other teenage drones. Has he not witnessed her "shenanigans" or is he just braver and kinder than most drones? He isn't afraid of N in episode 2, but, as he says himself, N helped save his life. He also shows some concern for other drones dying when he mentions the disappearances to Uzi in Heartbeat.

Lizzy has also shown to be braver than most drones. Little fear around Uzi, was able to hang around with V long enough to set up the prom scheme, helped Doll set up said prom scheme despite Doll doing a bunch of murdering, willingness to just walk up to J and trying to punch her. Her being around V and Doll would suggest she doesn't have the same concern about other drones dying the way Thad does. But that could just be her putting up a front. Perhaps we'll get to see a little more in episode 8.

Hope anyone who read through all this found at least some enjoyment in doing so. I thought this would be, like, 3 short paragraphs tops, but now there's a little over 1200 words.

[sparkrls]

delayed proposal

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry’s got a few secrets up his sleeve and Y/N just wants to know if he’s going to propose

Author’s Note: this is the blurb i was talking about with bandmates!harry x y/n. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3

Word Count: 1.1k

•••

“Are you going to propose soon?” Was the last question Harry expected to be uttered out of Y/N’s bright pink lips.

It was just another Sunday night, the couple trying to enjoy those last fleeting moments of weekend relaxation before Monday arrived with the usual burden and obligations of being working adults.

In little less than 12 hours, Y/N would be back to her 9-5 job being an assistant to a high-class executive of a finance company. Her boss had too much authority for being so irresponsible and more money than anyone would need in a lifetime. What a luxury it must be to have your dad pass down a company you didn’t know how to run down to you.

Her boss wasn’t a horrible person, he was quite respectful and kind when asking her to do tasks, he was just a very exploitative executive. He had learned from his father to be unbending and demanding.

Y/N’s work paid a good wage, enough for her to pay her bills and still have a bit left. She wasn’t one to buy luxuries, though, preferring to save money up so she could one day quit her 9-5. And then dedicate herself to the things she did every day after work: picked up her red electric guitar, adorned a black skirt that bordered on too short, and perform for (currently small) crowds of people who cheered her band on as they played.

There wasn’t anything Y/N loved quite as much as the rush of being on stage, the bass making the stage shake with each loud thrum, sticks clashing with plates of a drum and the velvet voice of an angel, Harry singing through the microphone and his eyes on her and her fingers moving over the fret of the guitar.

They played small clubs and rundown bars, getting payed a poor wage for the extrenous effort used to get four adults with full time jobs to align their schedules in order to rehearse. Sometimes all they got were free drinks, but they took what they could get and did it for the love of it.

That was how they got here, on Harry’s couch, his arm draped around her shoulders, and her head on his chest. They were watching Bluey, the way they did most nights they spent together. He would always roll his eyes when Y/N suggested it, pretending to hate it, but she knew it was his favorite show, and he always cried at the emotional episodes.

Their instruments lay forgotten on the table, his blue guitar next to her red one, as they’d spent most of the afternoon drinking beer and writing a new song.

It was a question that had been lingering in the back of Y/N’s mind, and she wasn’t quite sure why she chose that moment to blurt it out, but she did. “Are you going to propose soon?”

Harry’s gaze turned to her, eyebrows raised in light surprise, a small breath exhaled between his lips in a faint chuckle. “What?”

It was too late to take it back, so Y/N sat up and told him, “You’ve always talked about wanting to settle down and get married.” His features remained in small confusion. “We’ve been together for a while. Are you going to marry me?”

“Well, of course I’m going to marry you,” Harry said, like it were some scientific fact that everyone knew and was unchangeable. “You’re my forever, baby. I’ve written about a hundred songs about it.” His lips turned up in a smile. That smile he wore every time he told her he loved her, with a cocky and smug edge as if he were teasing her, laced with affection.

“I don’t mean we have to get married this instant, but I just, I guess we’ve never talked about if we were getting engaged or when and I-“

“Baby,” Harry cut off her nervous rambling, chuckling. He kissed her, soft lips with cracked edges from the cold and dry weather. “I already know what ring I’m going to buy. I’m just saving up for it.”

Y/N’s mind blanked for a moment. “You’re already thinking about rings?” Her lips parted in surprise.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, silly girl. You’re not the only one thinking about marriage.” He smiled at her, reassuring her that he was just teasing. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, still in shock. Here she was, getting all nervous and insecure about marriage and he had already been planning to propose. Her question now seemed a bit foolish. She looked up at him and said, “You know I don’t need some needlessly expensive ring, right? You could buy it on Aliexpress and I couldn’t care less.”

Harry looked at her with slight amusement. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said with a small nod. “It’s stupid to spend money on a ring when it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

Harry sighed. “Baby, it’s not about the ring being expensive. It’s about the ring being a symbol for my devotion to you. And I want my devotion to be apparent in the beauty of it.” He tapped the finger on her left hand where the ring would lay. “No, I don’t have to spend money on an expensive ring. That’s why I’m not just getting a huge diamond. I’m getting something you’ll love.”

“But it’s expensive and it’s a waste of money on a simple ring-“

“Is it just a ring? Or is it a symbol of matrimony, of us being together forever?” Harry said gently, correcting her statement. “Not to mention you’re going to be wearing that ring every day ‘till you die.”

Y/N made a sound of contradiction. “Unless we get a divorce.”

Harry stared at her blankly for a few moments. He deadpanned, “Not funny.”

“Kinda funny,” Y/N said with a small smile.

She waited for Harry’s stern gaze to soften with adoration the way it always did. It only took a few moments for his composure to crumble and he leaned in close to her. His nose grazed against hers as he muttered quietly, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

The way he said it sounded like a declaration of love. Everything he said to her did. Because his love could never be called in to doubt. It shone through every word he uttered, every song he wrote, every thing he did.

His lips locked onto hers once again, the tension in his muscles melting away as if all he needed to feel complete was to be pressed against her. To have every inch of skin surrounding her, the taste of beer still on her tongue, and the scent of spring enveloping his senses.

“I’m going to marry you,” Harry uttered, an oath murmured against her lips before placing a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her close once again.

[blogurlnotfound]

Drumming - Doctor Who x Reader

hiii this is my first fic in about 4 years probably :) this is obviously a new account, so yeah that's why there's nothing else here. um anyways, i definitely got incredibly carried away with this, did not have an idea going into it (still think it ended up great), 12 is probably out of character, and i somehow wrote it in under 3 hours??

anyway, I hope it's enjoyable! and please let me know your thoughts :)

12th Doctor x Reader

(really student/professor but can be romantic or platonic, whatever vibes you catch.)

Word Count: 2,600+

Summary: You have been hearing a drumming in your head. One, two, three, four. It's been affecting your mental state, and you haven't been to class in a while. Maybe your professor, The Doctor, is able to help figure this out?

Warnings: mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts. any gender reader, but makeup mentioned.

A drumming had been haunting you for months as you slept.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

It would sound non-stop until you couldn't bear it any longer, and woke up. Every time you would wake up the same: in a cold sweat, panting, with tear streaks running down your face.

Each day the drumming's effect on you grew. It was affecting your mental state immensely. You felt a deep pain and sadness hanging over you like a cloud most days. You wouldn't be able to get out of bed, much less go to classes. You weren't hungry often, and couldn't eat when you were. You avoided your friends and your schoolwork, occasionally texting your parents to keep them from worrying.

You weren't sure if your professors noticed your absences. They hadn't reached out to you in any way. It's not like they'd notice you in the sea of students. They must see hundreds a day anyways.

It's not like anybody would notice you anyway. At least that's what the drumming would whisper to you.

One, two, three, four.

You keep to yourself. Don't have any close friends in your classes, and not many close friends at school in general. Nobody really knew who you were. Your favorite color. Childhood pets. How long it takes you to sleep. How often you're awoken by the drumming.

One, two, three, four.

Nobody would notice if you're gone.

One, two, three, four.

They don't even notice when you're there.

One, two, three, four.

-+-

You wake up. In a cold sweat. Panting. You reach both your hands to your face and rub your palms on your cheeks. Tears were cleared from your face and now sat on your hands. You sit up and release a heavy sigh. It's like the sigh has been waiting to escape all night. Like your body was relieved to be released from the nightmare drumming.

You decide to get out of bed, an easier decision than previous day's had been. You stretch your limbs and yawn. You walk to the bathroom and face your reflection. Today was going to be okay.

Or will it be.

One, two, three, four.

"It will be. Today will be okay." You affirmed to yourself in the mirror. You let out another sigh, smiled at yourself softly, and began your morning routine.

You do your make-up while watching a video. You found that taking the time to do your make-up gave you time to relax, breathe, and be yourself. You felt better about your days when you take this extra time to yourself in the morning. So, whenever you manage to get out of bed, you try to manage doing make-up too.

The video you watched was just of some guy unnecessarily analyzing a TV show you liked. He went into extreme detail about small details from the show and created theories about why certain things happened and what might happen next. You enjoyed his content. He reminded you of one of your professors.

He was a very kind old man who you can tell cares deeply about everything he talks about. He has a Scottish accent that somehow grows stronger with excitement. He's enthusiastic and rambles, and never really has a set course of taking points. He just lets his mind and his heart lead him. Saying whatever he finds most awestrucking and veering off topic drastically. In fact, you weren't really sure what the class was meant to be about.

The course description when signing up simply said, "Discussion-based class, humanities topics." The syllabus was no extra help, practically said the same thing with all the extra school required information listed. But it fulfilled your humanities credit, and the first day was interesting enough, so you stayed in the class.

Thinking about the professor, The Doctor, just The Doctor, made you want to go to his class. You checked the time on your phone. It did start in a little over two hours. You finished getting ready and then waited.

You waited maybe fifteen minutes before getting bored. You quickly put your bag together and walked out your door, then your building, into the outside would. It had been at least thirty-two hours since you were last outside. The air felt cool against your skin, reviving your senses and making you softly smile to yourself. You could hear the wind rustle the branches of nearby trees that swayed. Somehow, these trees looked the same as ever, and more beautiful than ever.

You turn around in a full circle and take in the Earth around you. She really is beautiful. You don't sit with her enough.

With new energy in your body, the dark cloud caused by the drumming smaller than ever, you walk around your campus mindlessly. Every step you take grounds you to the Earth, reminding you that the drumming can't be real.

One, two, three, four.

It isn't real.

-+-

You take a seat in the auditorium where The Doctor's class is held. You gently place your bag on the floor next to you and wait as the seats pile up. Five minutes later the room is almost full, and the tall man with short grey hair walks in, greeting the class with a Scottish, "Hello!" as he places his bag down and immediately starts writing on the chalkboard.

"Music." is written on the board. He swiftly turns around on his heel. He stops and makes direct eye contact with you. He stares for a moment, a twinkle in his eye. He diverts his attention from you and begins speaking,

"So," he clasps his hands, "who wants to tell me the importance of music to humanity?"

Hands shoot up all around you. You had been missing a fun class.

-+-

The class ends and you have a beaming smile on your face. You hadn't realized truly how fun and entrancing The Doctor was. Every student was hooked on his every word, waiting for what insane piece of information would come flying out of his mouth next. Every student including you.

The class was packing their bags and leaving around you. You heard groups starting to chat. Friends laughing loudly.

You don't have friends like that here. Your smile falls.

One, two, three, four.

A tap on the wooden desk in front of you wakes you from your thoughts, a Scottish voice accompanying it, "Are you okay, y/n? I noticed you haven't been to class in a while."

You looked up at The Doctor, no doubt admiration for him and sadness from your thoughts filling your eyes. He could read your eyes. He could read the pain and the sadness. He's felt it before.

"You noticed?" You stifled out.

"Of course I noticed." His face softened, "All of my students are important to me."

"But there's so many of us?"

"So?"

You didn't have a response to that. You suppose he was right. You just looked down at your bag, grabbed it, and started to stand up.

"Would you like to come into my office?"

You looked at him, confused and shocked.

"Just for lunch and to discuss whatever is going on. If you'd like." You look at him, still confused. Your head cocks slightly to one side, and your mouth begins to open, but The Doctor beats you to it, "I lost a student not too long ago. Her name was Bill. Bill Potts. I miss her a lot, you see, she was more than just my student. She was also my friend. She made me better. I can see her in you, and I would hate to... " He pauses, "I'm just worried about how many classes you've missed. You may not be able to pass my course."

You're really confused now. The gears are turning in your head, processing his confession of loss turned into you not passing the class. The Doctor can see the gears turning on your face, in the way your eyebrows scrunch intensely and your pupils move back and forth. You close your eyes, relax your face, and look at him with a smile.

"I would like to go to your office, yeah. Thank you." Your eyes are sincere, and when you meet his, so are they.

You follow him a short ways through campus to his office. His steps and your steps opposite. Like the drumming.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

You try to ignore it. You try really hard but can't. You stop walking, and the drumming stops. You sigh in relief, The Doctor looks back at you with concern.

"Sorry," you say, catching up to him with a smile, "I thought I saw something."

"Like what?" He asks, curiosity filling his face.

"Oh, nothing." You weren't expecting him to ask. You didn't know what to say.

He hums in response, picking up pace until you're at his office. It's a huge room with a desk in the middle, you take a seat on one side of it while The Doctor sits opposite. He has many picture frames on his desk, and a mysterious blue police box in the corner you can't take your eyes off.

One, two, three, four.

"What's that?" you ask, pointing at the box before you can help yourself.

"A police box. It's from London in the 60's. I'm a bit of a collector of sorts."

He had this lie down pat. But you could tell he wasn't being truthful, you didn't know how, but you knew. You didn't press on about the box. You just nodded and smiled, "That's cool."

He nodded too. "Let's talk about why you've been missing class. Is everything okay back home? Anything I can do to help?"

One, two, three, four.

Something compelled you to be honest with him. Again, you didn't know what. He felt familiar. Of course you've known him the whole semester, but it felt more than that. You feel safe. You feel seen. You feel known. You knew when he lied to you just a second ago, but why?

One, two, three, four.

"Can I be honest?" you make eye contact with him, "Like, you won't lock me up in the looney bin for being crazy?" He's about to say something but you interrupt him, "And won't get me kicked out of the school or, or, I don't know, send me off to get government testing?"

He's confused now. But curious too. You can tell he's interested in what you're saying, he wants to know more. It doesn't feel like he's going to judge you. "Yes, you can be honest. You can trust me."

"Promise?" You hold out your pinky. Sure it's silly, but silly makes it more meaningful, more powerful, somehow.

He chuckles and interlocks your pinkies, "Promise."

"Okay." You stop to think.

One, two, three, four.

"So I have this noise in my head."

One, two, three, four.

"It's like drumming. One, two, three, four."

One, two, three, four.

The Doctor stiffens. "And it won't stop, Doctor." you continue. "And it's like it's affecting my thoughts. They're all negative and I'm depressed and it hurts. It really hurts, Doctor." Tears are streaming down your face. You weren't even aware talking about this would make you cry. And you didn't know why you told The Doctor about it.

After a moment of thinking, The Doctor moves from his chair and towards you. His movements are stiff. As if he's nervous. He knows something you don't. He leans down and wraps his arms around you, your head at his chest. You cry harder, and he pulls you closer in comfort.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

The drumming was louder than ever. In your head and in your ears. It's not scary anymore though. You move your head away from The Doctor to release you from the hug. The drumming stops. You reach out to his chest without asking, without thinking.

On your hand you feel two heartbeats.

One, two, three, four.

You put your other hand to your own heart. Only one heartbeat. One, two.

Why did he have two heartbeats. One, two, three, four. Why was his the drumming.

"Why-" you start, but need to close your eyes and breathe, "Why does your heart sound like the drumming. Why do you have two heartbeats?"

"Follow me." He walked to the blue police box, opened the door and went inside. You sat there for a moment stunned. Then you cleared your face from your tears and got up. You made your way towards the box, looking at the door before walking inside.

You looked around in amazement. You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your face broke out into a huge grin. You ran outside and back inside. "This defies all laws of physics! How is it-? It's?" You looked at him expectantly.

"C'mon, I know you want to say it." He had an equally bright, shit-eating grin.

"It's bigger on the inside!"

He laughed with his whole chest and body. His laugh was contagious.

"This," he gestures around the room, "is my T.A.R.D.I.S. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. And I'm a Time-Lord from the planet Gallifrey. We have two hearts, hence the two heartbeats."

You look at him; confusion, amazement, admiration and more displayed on your face.

"Now I don't know why you're hearing my species' heartbeats in your head, but I'm going to figure it out." He looks at you and smiles, you can't help but smile back, "If you want to come with me?"

"With you where?" you ask.

"Anywhere! In the whole wide universe. Not really sure where to start to help you though. Or when for that matter?"

You've never been so confused so many times in the span of one day. "But I have other classes? And don't you too?" Something clicks in your brain, "And what about my parents? And I barely know you! No offense, Doctor. I can't go traveling with someone I don't know."

"If anyone can help you, y/n, it's me. There might not be anyone else in the whole universe." You look at him, desperate now after hearing his words. "And as for your other classes and your family- TARDIS, t," he said, dragging out the sound, "stands for time. She's a time machine. Can take you right back to this moment." He smiled confidently, and made his way towards the center of the room where some sort of console was. He puts his hands on a lever, and looks at you again.

"What?" You asked, awestruck.

"Let me show you." Mischief flashes across his face, but you can tell it's more childlike than malicious. Which is odd for a man who is likely in his sixties.

A whirring sound comes from the center. The door slams shut and the lights start fluctuating. You find it hard to steady yourself as the floor becomes unstable.

"Grab onto something!" The Doctor yells. You do, a railing a few feet away. You grab on tight and try to stand up right. The Doctor is laughing with joy.

One, two, three, four.

The drumming in your head is drowned out by the TARDIS whirring. The whirring sound would soon become a new comfort. And the TARDIS a new home. And The Doctor, he would soon become the most special and fantastic person in your life.

You knew today was going to be a good day. And there are thousands more to come. Thousands more with The Doctor.

He was going to stop the drumming in your head, no matter what he had to do.

[fwoopersongs]

光亮 - Silver Linings; Let Your Light Shine

Note: Turn on the closed captions by clicking in the rectangle [cc]! You can drag and drop to put them wherever you like.

These are words both about the song and expressing her support for Zhou Shen by the lyricist, 苟璘 Gou Lin, on her Weibo:

This is a song of praise dedicated to tiny lives amidst the vast sweep of history. In the face of the grandeur of the Forbidden City’s six hundred years, there are far too many individual lives that can feel so very insignificant. However, the most crushing kind of smallness doesn’t come just from time or space, it comes from that deep and helpless frustration we’ve all felt at some point when the world overlooks or scorns us. And yet, even throughout all of time and the infinite vastness of the universe, even if our utmost effort only amounted to a brief spark in the end—here for a moment, then gone without a trace, what matters is that in that moment, we saw our own passion. We heard the voice in our heart. Maybe this is what it truly means to have lived? You are an angel sent to this world with the power to heal. So, keep blissfully singing. Keep shining with your purity and warmth. Keep lighting the way for those who need your light @Kabu_Zhou Shen. Tonight, the Forbidden City shines for you.

/I love this song so so so much. Ahhhhhhhhh. Started translating this on the 29th of January 2022 (I know bc all my translation project file titles start with the initiation date xD) and even TLed Su Shi’s poem, 定风波·莫听穿林打叶声 to prepare! But in the end, I had to put it on indefinite hiatus partially because I couldn’t decide what ‘光亮你自己’ vibed like to me, but also because I wanted to watch the show it was made for. Posting now because I finally did get around to watching it, and also because inspiration struck*! \o/

*Cough. Technically halfway through one night in 2023 if memory serves… Yes, it took me two years to write it down…

Background

This is one of twelve theme songs for 紫禁城 Forbidden City, the 12 episode 2021 documentary jointly produced by Beijing Radio & Television Station (BRTV) and The Palace Museum, which, as its name suggests, is centered on the history of and history that unfolded around the Forbidden Palace in Beijing, built in the Ming Dynasty and that still stands today. 

Every episode had its own ending song. Zhou Shen’s 光亮 / Silver Linings was the ending song for Episode 6 余晖 | Afterglow.

(Rockster929 has subtitled a short interview with the director of this documentary from China Documentary Festival here where he talks a bit about the background of the song, and some words from Zhou Shen about it and what he wants to convey with it.)

The ‘afterglow’ here refers to the meteorological phenomenon in which an arc of light can still be seen on the horizon after sunset or twilight. It’s the perfect word for this episode, which mainly covers the late Ming Dynasty in broad strokes, from the reign period of the Wanli Emperor, Emperor Shenzhong of Ming, to the fall of the dynasty with its last Emperor Chongzhen. If that sounds cliched to you, I thought so too… and boy was I happy to be wrong!

紫禁城 Forbidden City, Episode 6 余晖 | Afterglow and its theme, 光亮 Silver Linings

Some rambles about it (and a link to the show) for you all because I couldn’t find an English subbed version. If you can understand Chinese though, I highly recommend watching it because the MV version feels SO different when you have that context, and it’s no longer just a collection of pretty backgrounds, antiques and strangers that don’t mean anything to you.

In this episode, late Ming history is presented as one of fading grandeur and deepening shadow, with moments of inspiring resilience and tragic but admirable brilliance. 

It opens with an ominous rare winter thunderstorm in 1610, on the 24th day of the twelfth lunar month, marking the birth of Zhu Youjian, the future Emperor Chongzhen. With hindsight from what we know now, it seems almost symbolic (or so the documentary narration went xD). His life, like the dynasty he would one day inherit and then lose, would be similarly marked by turbulence and tragedy.

Use this: Handy list of Ming Dynasty Emperors.

We then jumped back a little ways in time (there was a lot of jumping back and forth… I had to consult the wikipedia timeline of Ming emperors) to the reign of the Longqing Emperor, Zhu Zaiji (1537 to 1572), who, upon ascending the throne in 1567, lifted a longstanding maritime ban and reopened Ming’s doors to overseas trade. This short lived yet forward-looking policy that later became known as the Longqing Opening was what brought new vitality into a flagging economy and rule. It also laid the economic foundation for the comprehensive reforms of the ‘light in the darkness’, Zhang Juzheng (1525 to 1582), initially Grand Secretary and basically prime minister under Emperor Wanli (1563 to 1620)—which turned things for the better in terms of both economy and efficient governance.

(If you love political cdramas PLEASE come check out Zhang Juzheng’s wiki page. He also wrote child!Emperor Wanli the illustrated book, 帝鉴图说 Illustrated Study of Emperors, which was featured in the documentary.)

Possibly due in part to the way his hand was forced over the investiture of a less favoured son as Crown Prince, in the later part of his rule, Emperor Wanli withdrew from court life citing illness, and state machinery began to grind down. Beneath the appearance of upheld rituals and grandeur, Ming had begun to hollow out. Factional infighting, court intrigue, and rigid, inefficient bureaucracy weakened the dynasty from within, even as natural disasters (and bad management of them), rebellions, and global shifts pressed in from without.

There was more about Emperor Taichang, Zhu Changluo (1582 to 1620) and Emperor Tainqi, Zhu Youjiao (1605 to 1627) before circling back to Emperor Chongzhen whom we started off with, and their ultimately futile attempts to turn back the tide (of the gradual decline of Ming). But beyond emperors, ministers and the suffering people, what stood out and became clear as I watched this episode was how very human they all were. The quiet heroism and tragic flaws of those who tried in their own ways to hold the center together. Sometimes the same ones who accelerated its end. The nobility and the failures, the integrity and short-sightedness, the earnest reformers and bitter rivals—sometimes all in one messy tangled ball. History, shaped by people in all their fragility and complexity, against forces they could not control.

Ah, I may have made it all sound very bleak! But really the heart of 余晖 is not a story of collapse and things falling apart, but of endurance and resilience. Of little matches keeping a glimmer of light in the darkness.

Which then leads us seamlessly to the next section ~

This Song and How I See it

(But in the meantime, lemme plug a couple of the versions I’ve enjoyed as well. Here (Illumination) from tumblr user six-sticks with awesome word effects that add to the vibe, and this 2023 CCTV New Year’s Gala version (The Light), which is not as literal and probably had to conform to some sort of word count guideline, but still the interpretation is so clear!)

Upon the sea, a gust of wind begins to blow, white clouds roll toward the land [1]. the monsoon carrying away grains of sand. Four seasons: Cycles of cold and warmth. Look, it’s the effervescence of life, and here again, traces of decay [2]. Be it the sudden wind and rain in your face as you race, or the illuminating light of a single burning match against the darkness [3], perhaps you will never guess where ineffable fate leads you [4] like the shooting stars that fly without knowing where they go [5]. But ah, and yet I… I am willing believe in the smallest, the weakest, the gentlest and bravest of all, you. Reaching out with all your strength and all you have [6]. No matter how fathomless, endless, unsolvable, always, there’s a sliver of hope [7]. Be your own light [8a]. Heed not the sound cutting through the forest, battering leaves; straw-draped, weathering a lifetime's storms unchecked by fog or rain [9]. At Changyin Hall in the end, we are all just stories taking the stage [10]; a grain of sand to six hundred years, and all that once was, a dream [11]. But oh, and yet I…I am willing to believe in the smallest, the weakest, the gentlest and bravest of all, you. Reaching out with all your strength and all you have. No matter how fathomless, endless, unsolvable, always, there’s a sliver of hope. Let your light shine [8b]. Heed not the sound cutting through the forest, battering leaves. Straw-draped, weathering a lifetime's storms unchecked by fog or rain. At Changyin Hall in the end, we are all just stories taking the stage; a grain of sand to six hundred years, and all that once was, a dream. Unwavering despite the outcome [12a]. Being your bravest self. Undeterred by fate [12b]. The bravest you can be.

Notes

[1] 一阵风吹起 / 白云涌向陆地 / 季风带走沙粒 a gust of wind begins to blow / white clouds roll toward the land / the monsoon carrying away grains of sand.

Honestly, translating this line was like all my secondary school physical geography nonsense coming back to haunt my soul. Monsoon winds are regional wind patterns that reverse direction seasonally due to the Coriolis Effect produced by the rotation of the earth etc. etc. xD It's a very lively and lovely way to set the scene for this song because it calls ocean and sunlight dappled beach imagery to mind immediately, tying in to the natural cycles of nature, the storm and the sea that are mentioned later on in the song. 

I had great fun choosing a word for 涌 because it’s like a rising, surging sort of motion right? But the vibes are a smidge gentler in this sentence because of the descriptions that sandwich it. Since rolling clouds are a stunning thing and since these seem to herald a storm, that’s what I went with!

[2]  多鲜活的生命 / 又枯萎的痕迹 Look, it’s the effervescence of life / and here again, traces of decay

The 多 in this sentence is of ‘多么’ (duō me) | how, frequently shortened to just 多 alone. And then ‘effervescence’ was the first word that popped into my head at 鲜活 - vivid and vibrant and bursting with vitality, and I am fond enough to keep it so, even if a closer match to the sentence might have been ‘how effervescent life is!’ xD I think one of the versions I recced earlier uses 'a vivid life with marks from withering', which is also super valid.

With 枯萎’s association with plant life, perfectly tying in to the previous line about the interchanging of seasons, perhaps wither might have been a more suitable choice than decay? But I couldn’t figure out a sentence that sounded right with ‘wither’ in it, so… oh well!

[3] 是奔跑中突然袭来的风雨 / 是黑暗中一根火柴燃烧的光明 Be it the sudden wind and rain in your face as you race / or the illuminating light of a single burning match against the darkness

This structure of ‘Be it the / or the’ comes from my perceiving the lines as ‘是 / (还)是’ and these two with the next two lines conveying this: Whether it’s the storm that hits you unexpectedly, or being the fragile strength-giving light in the darkness, maybe you can’t tell what your purpose is or if your effort will even make a difference at the end of it all… 

Like, omg I really love the sudden rain in your face here, because this is what sets up for the opening of the opera singing later on! Will explain in [9].

[4] 也许你猜不透未知的宿命 perhaps you will never guess where ineffable fate leads you

Predestined is the typical translation of 宿命, which is also literally [movement of the constellations] [determined by command]. Meanwhile, typically, we hear ‘fate written in the stars’ in english. So… fate it is!

[5] 像流星飞翔着它却不知目的 like the shooting stars that fly without knowing where they go

‘Where they go’ is because 目的 can also be direction as well as purpose. When we add a 地 at the end, it becomes 目的地 (mù dì dì) destination. I went with a slightly anthropomorphic rendition here to reflect the tone that’s implied about the shooting stars* that don’t 不知 *know* their purpose. 

The way it is phrased in the Chinese, the pronoun 它 is for non-human beings and objects similar to ‘it’. However when pronounced, 它 (tā) is indistinguishable from what you use for a human, 他 (tā). Combining that with the image in the MV that has the magnificent time-exposure shot of the trajectory of stars above 太和殿 (tài hé diàn) | Hall of Supreme Harmony, I used ‘shooting stars’—plural and ‘they’ for this line.

If I were prepping for a lyric video without the context of the MV, I’d probably change it to something along the lines of ‘like a shooting star that flies without knowing where to go’.

[6] 用尽了全力 努力地回应 Reaching out with all your strength and all you have 

Hmmmmmm I let go of 回应’s responding / replying shade of meaning in favour of reaching because I couldn’t tease out the unwieldy sentence if all remained. xD 

[7] 总有一线生机 always, there’s a sliver of hope

But another aspect of that creative decision (other than laziness) is that I wanted to capture that grasping for the ‘一线生机 single thread of chance at survival’ image.

[8] 光亮你自己 (a) Be your own light / (b) Let your light shine

This line was what had me conflicted and idly racking my brains for literal months xD

Where conventionally 光亮 is shining, bright or light, none of that really fitted in with 你自己. Light yourself, as in illuminate yourself? Make yourself shine? It’s not the same as ‘setting yourself alight’ in the sense of the burning match from the earlier line, but a sort of illuminating quality. The image here is that *you* are giving off the light.

(Also no I didn't see any of the interviews/pre-performance words where he talked about it, or I wouldn't have been stuck for so long!)

And what you see is my conclusion! The first one comes after the verse that is encouragement for ones feeling adrift, out of their depth or purposeless and lost. So the call to ‘be your own light’ feels like something I would say.

The light comes from within yourself.

The second one comes after the opera style verse… well… so maybe let’s leap right into that first!

[9] 莫听穿林打叶声 / 一蓑烟雨任平生 Heed not the sound cutting through the forest, battering leaves / straw-draped, weathering a lifetime's storms unchecked by fog or rain

This sentence is actually made up of two separate lines from the same poem by Su Shi (better known as Su Dongpo - btw it’s not his name but Su of the Eastern Slope xD I’ve explained about how he got it here). The poem is 定风波·莫听穿林打叶声 | To the tune of ‘Still the Wind and Waves’ • (first line) heed not the sound of rain in the forest.

A prominent Song dynasty poet and official, Su Shi wrote this poem during his relegation to Huangzhou around 1080. He had been falsely accused of criticizing government policies in his poetry and was imprisoned before being demoted to a minor post in farway and destitute land. It was a major MAJOR fall, and I don’t have the words to describe what he (and others) went through, but there is an ENTIRE wikipedia page for the whole case. So if interested, here you go: Crow Terrace Poetry Trial. The link is to the conclusion of the case and his sentencing because that’s what directly led to the circumstances under which he wrote the poem we’re interested in, but feel free to scroll up and read from the top.

Su Shi's fall from political favor and relegation deeply impacted him (keep in mind that he was 43 when this happened, remained in Huangzhou for 4 years and passed about 16 years later in 1101), but rather than grow bitter or defeated, his writings from this period show a shift toward embracing reclusion, simplicity, and freedom from official burdens. One day, returning and getting caught in the rain, Su Shi found himself walking calmly while others were flustered. This real-life episode inspired the poem, where the last line reveals his secret to remaining at ease in spite of his circumstances. That same theme is reflected in 光亮’s ending lines.

Something cute (Zhou Shen related) that I came across recently: Since the line was derived from two different parts of this poem which also happens to be a classroom and exam staple, in his concerts, Zhou Shen has tested fans on singing the song 光亮 vs. reciting the poem 顶风波. Here’s one from 811 Nanjing in 2024 (I adore that outfit!!!!!)

Anyway! Can’t say all that without showing you what we’ve been talking about, so here it is:

三月七日，沙湖道中遇雨。雨具先去，同行皆狼狈，余独不觉，已而遂晴，故作此词。 On the seventh day of the third month, midway on Sandylake Road, we met with rain. Those bearing rain gear went on ahead. My traveling companions were all miserable and disheveled, only I did not feel discomfited; shortly after, the skies cleared when the rain ended. This is why I pen these words. 莫听穿林打叶声，何妨吟啸且徐行。竹杖芒鞋轻胜马，谁怕？一蓑烟雨任平生。 Heed not the sound cutting through the forest, battering leaves. Why not keep singing along as you tread? On bamboo staff and wicker sandals light and swift, better suited than a steed. Who’s afraid? Straw-draped, weathering a lifetime's storms unchecked by fog or rain.  料峭春风吹酒醒，微冷，山头斜照却相迎。回首向来萧瑟处，归去，也无风雨也无晴。 A sharp Spring breeze dissipates my drunken haze. It is a little chilly. Yet, welcoming me on the mountaintop are the setting sun’s slanting rays. I look toward the way we came, where leaves rustled in the cold. Toward a return where there is neither storm nor clear skies.

Is he really talking about just the rain in that first line, or does it also apply to the storms in life too? Keep walking forward, unafraid, just as you had before and sing in its face!!!! The secret to being at ease is in finding the silver lining in every dark day and appreciating it. And whether you’re met with storms or clear skies, take them with equanimity and a neutral heart. 

[10] 畅音阁里终一叙 At Changyin Hall in the end, we are all just stories taking the stage

The phrase ‘历史的舞台 history’s stage’ was used a couple of times throughout the documentary which I took inspiration from for the reading of the line. To support this interpretation, I also took 叙 xù in 终一叙 as that of 叙述 which is to record or to narrate. 

Hearing this song for the first time (and every time before actually looking it up xD) though, I did wonder about 畅音阁 (chàng yīn gé), which sounds like a building, a place of music, and why are we recounting stories there. Now, I think it’s sort of meta to use opera style singing to cue a place where opera is performed, while practically saying ‘all the world's a stage‘ xD

For the song, 畅音阁 | Pavilion of Pleasant Sounds is translated as Changyin Hall, transliterating its name as Changyin and the type of building, a ge, as ‘Hall’ for the sake of catchiness. (Hey we call it Langya HALL not Langya Pavillion xD) But for the sake of clarity in the notes because the official name for a 殿 is Hall, let’s call this place Changyin Pavilion.

In Episode 10 of 紫禁城 Forbidden City, in a small segment depicting Empress Cixi’s 60th birthday amidst a tumultus time for Qing, we learn that Changyin Hall is located near to her 宁寿宫 | Ningshou Palace / Palace of Tranquil Longevity, and that it hosts the largest performance stage in all of the Forbidden Palace. 

Here is a map where you can try hunting for it!

I went to look up the page for Changyin Pavilion in The Palace Museum’s website and here it is. You can even go in and click the 360 view to explore it.

Here’s a translation of the short writeup about it on the page.

(Post Translation Draft Edit: 😵 SUPER regret setting out to do this LMAO *coughs blood*. Please take all of it with a pinch of salt!!!!! I’ll leave the Chinese text alongside for people who can read themselves.)

畅音阁位于宁寿宫后区东路南端，座南面北，为清宫内廷演戏楼。乾隆三十七年（1772年）始建，四十一年建成。嘉庆七年（1802年）曾维修，二十二年于阁后（南）接盖卷棚顶扮戏楼。光绪十七年（1891年）维修。现存建筑为嘉庆年间改建后的规制。

Changyin Pavilion sits in the area behind Ningshou Palace at the Southmost end of the East road. North facing with its back to the south, it served as an opera performance stage in the palace during the Qing Dynasty. Construction began in the 37th year of Emperor Qianlong's reign (1772) and was completed in his 41st year (1776). It once had to be maintained and repaired in the 7th year of Emperor Jiaqing’s reign (1802), and in the 22nd year (1817), an annex with a curved-roof, a juanpeng ding, was added to the south of the pavilion as a dressing area. Another round of maintenance took place in the 17th year of Emperor Guangxu's reign (1891). The architecture that remains today reflects the style and modifications made during the Jiaqing period.

畅音阁三重檐，通高20.71m，卷棚歇山式顶，覆绿琉璃瓦黄琉璃瓦剪边，一、二层檐覆黄琉璃瓦。阁面阔3间，进深3间，与南边5开间扮戏楼相接，平面呈凸字形。

Changyin Pavilion has three-tiered eaves with an overall height of 20.71 meters. Its roof features a combination of xieshan (hip-and-gable) and curved eaves, covered with green glazed tiles edged with yellow glazed tiles. The first and second levels are roofed entirely with yellow glazed tiles. Three jians wide and three jians deep (sorry, but I can’t figure out what they mean by ‘jian’, so uhhhhh here’s an entire article for you about it xD), and it connects to the five jian annex dressing area to the south, forming a T-shaped layout.

上层檐下悬“畅音阁”匾，中层檐下悬“导和怡泰”匾，下层檐下悬“壶天宣豫”匾。内有上中下三层戏台，上层称福台，中层称禄台，下层称寿台。寿台面积210㎡，台内不设立柱，采用抹角梁。

Under the eaves of the uppermost level hangs a plaque that reads ‘畅音阁 Changyin Pavilion’, the one on the middle level reads ‘导和怡泰 Guided Harmony and Pleasant Peace’, and the lowest level has ‘壶天宣豫 Spreading Heavenly Joy’ (Chinese blog post explaining the names). Within the building, there are three vertically stacked stages. The upper stage is called 福台 Fortune Stage, the middle one is called 禄台 Prosperity Stage, and the lower one Longevity Stage. The 寿台 Longevity Stage, with an area of 210 square meters is designed without interior columns, using corner-braced beams (video explaining this architectural building technique in Chinese) instead. 

台面后部设有4座楼梯，接平台，上楼梯可抵达禄台。寿台北、东、西三面明间的两柱上方装饰鬼脸卷草纹木雕彩绘匾，惟正（北）面挂联：

At the rear of the stage, there are four staircases leading to a platform that provides access to the Prosperity Stage above. Installed upon the upper part of two front pillars of the open jeans (in this case probably meaning open air area) on the north, east, and west sides of the Longevity Stage are ornately painted wooden plaques with ghostly masks and curly grass patterns. A couplet is hung on the Northern face:

动静叶清音 知水仁山随所会 春秋富佳日 凤歌鸾舞适其机

In motion or stillness, pure melodies resonate; the wise are drawn to flowing waters, the virtuous to steadfast mountains — each finds joy in their own way. Spring and autumn brim with gentle, golden days; the phoenix sings, the luan bird dances, each in harmony with the moment.

台面中部设地井，盖板可开合。台下地面四角各有窨井一眼，南边中间有一眼水井，可为戏中表演喷水提供水源。

A trapdoor above a well in the ground is set in the center of the stage floor, with a cover that can be opened or closed. Each corner beneath the stage has a drainage point, with a freshwater well located at the center of the south side, providing a source of water for stage effects such as spraying fountains of water during performances.

禄台、福台均将前沿（北侧）做为台面，使观戏者抬头便可看到。三层台设天井上下贯通，禄台、福台井口安设辘轳，下边直对寿台地井，根据剧情需要，天井、地井可升降演员、道具等。使用三层台的剧目不多，绝大多数只在寿台上表演。

The northernmost side of both the Prosperity and Fortune stages are used as the downstage, allowing the audience to look upward and enjoy the show. A vertical airwell runs through all three levels, and the Fortune and Prosperity Stage have a winch system installed at the edge of this airwell, with the bottom reaching to the Longevity stage. This setup allowed actors, props, and set pieces to be raised or lowered as needed for dramatic effects. However, few operas required use of all three stages and most performances took place solely on the Longevity Stage.

畅音阁建筑宏丽，京西颐和园内德和园大戏楼即仿畅音阁规制建造。Changyin Pavilion is known for its grand and splendid architecture. The 德和园 dé hé yuán | Garden of Virtue and Harmony at the Summer Palace in western Beijing was modeled after Changyin Pavilion.

[11] 六百��一粟 沧海一梦 a grain of sand to six hundred years, and all that once was, a dream

This line is a… I guess you could say, a crossover of two sayings? They’ve used it to great effect too!

One is an idiom, 沧海一粟 (cāng hǎi yī sù) | a grain of sand in the vast ocean, that originates from another piece of writing by Su Shi, called 《赤壁赋》 On the Red Cliff (maybe this is why they kept his name in as a lyricist too? This whole song has been very thematically resonant with his poem LOL), where 赋 (fù) is a type of poetic exposition, often translated as ‘rhapsody’. 

The other is 浮生一梦 (fú shēng yī mèng) | life, full of its vicissitudes, is like a (brief) dream. And instead of keeping it in as it is exactly, they swapped 浮生 [floating life] for 六百年 [six hundred years], because this song is written for a documentary about the Forbidden City and its six hundred years of history.

(Do you remember the wind that blew over the sea? The monsoon that carried away grains of sand?)

I feel like swapping them over has this amazing effect of enhancing how they feel.

Also! Because I'm just like this about rabbit holes (tragically), I went to read Su Shi's Red Cliff essay, and you know what? It's also very relevant to the topics in this song. Have casually translated it below with randomly interspersed commentary.

On the Red Cliff by Su Shi

In the autumn of the year Renxu, on the sixteenth day of the seventh lunar month, Master (as in Mr… also he’s self referencing in third person to my modern Chinese reading self, so I shall continue in this vein) Su and his companion set out by boat to tour the area at the foot of Red Cliff.

A gentle breeze stirred, and the river lay still and calm. He raised his cup to his companion, reciting poems of the bright moon, singing the verse ‘Moonrise’ from the Book of Songs. Not long after, the moon rose above the mountain to the East and lingered between the constellations of the Dipper and the Ox. White fog rolled across the river, and the light across the water seemed one with the sky. Their tiny reed boat floated wherever the current wished, carried across the boundless mist. It felt as though they were riding the wind through the void, not knowing where they might stop—light and free, as if they had shed the world behind them, transformed and ascending into the Immortal Realm.

And so at the height of his delight at the wine and the night’s beauty, he struck the edge of the boat and began to sing. “Oars of osmanthus wood, paddles of orchid, cutting through rippling light, chasing the glitter of the flowing river. My thoughts adrift toward the one I long for, I look beyond heaven’s edge where the beauty lies.” His companion played their hollowed flute in harmony. The sound was soft and haunting, like bitterness, like longing, like quiet weeping or a lament. And the ending notes were sorrowful, moving and lingering, like strands of a thread that would not break. It could have stirred a jiaolong from its hidden ravine into a dance, or moved the widows drifting alone in their boats into tears.

Master Su sobered and sat up straight at once, asking his companion seriously, “Why is there such sorrow in your music?”

He answered, “‘The moon rises amongst scattered stars and magpies fly south.’ Isn’t that the song of Cao Mengde? Looking westward from here toward Xiakou, eastward toward Wuchang, the rivers and mountains entwined are verdant. Was it not here that Cao Mengde was trapped by Zhou Yu? He who once conquered Jingzhou, took Jiangling, and sailed with the current downriver. His warships stretched for a thousand miles, his banners covered the sky. He poured wine on the river banks, held his spear across his lap and composed poetry, truly a hero in his time. But… what remains of him and his now?

“And you and me, fishing and gathering wood on the river’s edge. With the fish and shrimp keeping us company, the deer and elk our friends, riding in our leaf of a boat, toasting each other with liquor in our cups. We are like mayflies in the vastness of the universe, a grain of sand in sea’s depths. I mourn the fleeting nature of our lives, and I envy the endless flow of the Long River.

“Ah, to fly with the immortals, to hold the moon and never part—though I know such things cannot be attained, so all I can do is to entrust this lingering tune to the sorrowful wind.”

(Oh it’s a mid-life crisis from being in a historic location. RELATABLE my dude.)

Master Su replied, “Do you know of the nature of water and the moon? The river flows on and on, yet it never truly leaves us. The moon waxes and wanes, but it never truly changes or grows lesser. From these, we can observe a pattern—one perspective on this is how easily things change, even Heaven and Earth do not remain unchanged for a single moment. But if we look for what *does not* change, then all things, ourselves included, are endless. What, then, is there to envy?

“Between heaven and earth, all things have their own place. We ought not to desire even a speck that is not ours. And yet, the clear breeze over the river, the bright moon between the mountains—our ears hear them as sound, our eyes see them as light and colour. Nothing forbids us from taking them in, and they are limitless and inexhaustible. These are the boundless treasures of nature, and they belong to both you and me.”

His companion smiled then. They rinsed the cups and filled them again. The dishes were emptied and stood in an awfully messy state. Together they lay side by side in the boat, not realizing that dawn was already breaking in the east.

So, once again from the top! :D

莫听穿林打叶声 一蓑烟雨任平生 畅音阁里终一叙 六百年一粟 沧海一梦 Heed not the sound cutting through the forest, battering leaves. Straw-draped, weathering a lifetime's storms unchecked by fog or rain. At Changyin Hall in the end, we are all just stories taking the stage; a grain of sand to six hundred years, and all that once was, a dream.

How do you feel about these lines now?

(NGL, hearing '畅音阁里终一叙' makes me cry every time.)

The first opera style read of these lines coming in after the first 光亮你自己 / be your own light / illuminate yourself / you'll light up your life is just OOF. Layering it with the background music to make it sound distant just gives it this timeless effect—like it's both about and addressed to all these people, be it 11th century's Su Shi in the midst of his relegations to ever more rural and perilous lands, others in worse straits whose voices we shall never know, or even that person who lost something vaster and heavier than we can ever imagine (it may not be a comfort, but the nature of humanity and history is such that you are not alone in being in that position). The way it twists my heart is just T_T

And then the next verse cutting in with his voice in focus again !!!!!

可是啊 我却 却愿意去相信 最渺小最微弱最柔软最无畏的你 用尽了全力 努力地去回应 再无边再无尽再无解总有一线生机 But oh, and yet I…I am willing to believe in the smallest, the weakest, the gentlest and bravest of all, you. Reaching out with all your strength and all you have. No matter how fathomless, endless, unsolvable, always, there’s a sliver of hope.

光亮你自己 Let your light shine.

It just hits SO different.

[12] (a) 无论目的 / (b) 不问宿命 (a) Unwavering despite the outcome / (b) Undeterred by fate

Literally 无论目的 (wú lùn mù dì) is [no matter] (the) [destination/purpose/goal]. However, it is also a callback to the earlier line about the shooting star that does not know the way. So I’ve extended the metaphor a little bit. If 目的 is the ‘place you mean to reach’ literally/figuratively, then whether you know it or not and whether you reach it or not is the outcome. And if no matter what happens, you’re unaffected by the outcome, then you’re…? Unwavering!

Same idea for 不问宿命 (bù wèn sù mìng). There was a film a few years back called 无问西东 (wú wèn xī dōng) - I translated a maobuyi song for it and had to check it out xD, and there was a line that went roughly like: May you remember how precious you are and resist malice when you are struck down, may you have faith in your worth when you feel lost; love what you love, do what you want to do. Follow your heart, and don’t be distracted by doubts. 

It’s the same idea here. Don’t be pulled back by the thought of what’s ‘fated’.

Let yourself shine, and you'll light up your life.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Tragedy of Love, Death and Maggots part 12

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

With a gasp, I sped up and grabbed Mrin's arm. It was warm, familiar, and utterly paled in comparison compared to that feverish moment. When I took a moment to regather my senses, I realised I knew this corridor. Even better, I remembered hiding in this corner, an eternity ago, when I rescued a two-eyed Mein from monstrous things. “To the left!”

Without responding, Mrin turned with me and we crawled into the little tunnel where my safe room lay. It was hardly more than a crack in the walls, and my body protested as I shoved myself in. For a moment I was afraid we would not both fit, for even I alone was a snug fit. But Mrin pulled herself in behind me, squeezing herself until we hardly had room to breathe.

The two of us hardly dared to watch as the ground's rumbling grew louder, beating like war drums with the feet of a hundred cultists. They were out to get us, I thought, and prayed that they would not find us.

The cultists drew closer, and I realised their movements were disorganised, frantic, terrified. They weren't hunting us. They weren't chasing. They were fleeing.

Fleeing what? I knew the answer as soon as I thought of the question. 

Athena. Or to be specific, Not-Athena. She- It had turned on its summoners. I wiggled closer to the corners of our hidey-hole and clung to Mrin closer. “That thing's going to notice us,” I whispered in her ear.

She nodded. “Not if we stop breathing. That thing hunts through the sound of its prey. Hold on to me. Hold on tight, and hold your breath. I'll get us out of here.” There was something cold in her voice, like she was recalling a thousand-year-old memory and found it distasteful. “Just remember: Don't give in to it.”

She hushed my protests and began murmuring under her breath, a slow, steady chant whose cadence reminded me of the cultist priestess's ritual. It stole my breath away, quieted me like a pillow pressed against a sleeping man's face. For a moment, I felt my soul scrabble for breath, drowning in her words. But it was only a moment, and like all moments, it passed.

I breathed through my nose, curled up as far from the Something that swarmed above my head, something ancient and cruel, something that wanted me and Mrin dead. It glided past me, leaving a trail of slime and straggler maggots. One of the larvae crawled towards me. Would it alert the others if it found me? Could it? 

It reared up, looking me right in the eye. Did maggots have eyes? Could they see? Was the game already over, before I had even realised it began?

We stayed like that for an eternal moment, that tiny scrap of Not-Athena and I. I wondered if each maggot had its own mind, its own opinion. I wondered if it had a tiny scrap of our Athena in it, having become what it ate. I wondered if, when it turned away, it was out of pity or ignorance.

Either way, we were safe. For now.

Taglist: @coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @xenascribbles

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @paeliae-occasionally, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thecomfywriter

@seastarblue, @wyked-ao3

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[oqmemphis]

John Gabriel and Mathematical Ignorance

Have you ever watched a flat earth conspiracy video? If not, the usual format is pretty straightforward: the presenter rambles, unscripted and unedited, into a cheap microphone while using some shitty screen recording software to film themselves drawing lines on top of random jpegs in paint.net for five to ten minutes, before sitting back and proudly claiming that their unmatched genius has proven all human knowledge from the last several millennia to be hopelessly fraudulent.

John Gabriel is a flat earther for mathematics.

Mr. Gabriel writes and speaks at great length about an invention which he calls "the New Calculus", a theory most briefly described as an attempt to reformulate all of mathematics starting from (what he perceives to be) the base principles used by the Ancient Greeks. He believes that mathematics as a field of study has been practiced almost exclusively by idiots for approximately the last two thousand years, or nine hundred, or a hundred and fifty (the exact time at which things went to shit seems to vary a lot; he rejects much of Euler and Fermat, but also calls Cantor "the father of all cranks") and claims that only he can understand numbers "properly".

Whenever a popular maths YouTube channel makes a video about infinity (see Numberphile on -1/12 or Vsauce on transfinite ordinals), there are inevitably people in the comments arguing that the video's premise is misleading, wrong, unnecessary or incoherent, or that the concept of doing mathematics with infinite sets is fundamentally invalid. Mr. Gabriel takes this finitist view to its logical extreme.

In his 152-page tirade against modern academia, he argues that any "infinite process" is outright unmathematical and should not be allowed; his definition of "infinite process" includes convergent limits, such as the unending decimal expansion required to express irrational numbers. A significant basis of his work is that irrationals like π and √2 are not numbers, but rather "constants" or "incommensurable magnitudes". Why this is a useful distinction, given that these "constants" behave like numbers in nearly every regard, is never explained. He additionally claims that 0 is not only not a number, but is "not even required at all in mathematics". He spends the entire first half of the book re-deriving all of arithmetic and algebra based entirely on principles of Euclidean geometry, while repeating, mantra-like, that only integer ratios are numbers and that anyone who claims otherwise is an ignorant buffoon. I wonder if he writes RPF of himself throwing Hippasus into the sea.

He has then taken this idiosyncratic worldview as a starting point from which to reinvent calculus.

He is straightforwardly wrong.

Mr. Gabriel frequently complains that his critics mindlessly hurl insults at him without seriously engaging with his work, so as a show of absurdly generous good faith I will engage with it now. Any fellow masochists reading this are invited to take a look at Mr. Gabriel's manuscript - specifically his demonstration of how to take a derivative without the use of limits - and try and figure out where the problem is.

Ignoring Mr. Gabriel's apparent inability to find the subscript button in Microsoft Word, he has taken an nth-degree polynomial (which could contain many terms), and transformed it into a single term of degree n-1. This, you will be astounded to learn, is not the correct result when taking the derivative of anything more complicated than f(x) = x^p. Notably, he never attempts to do this.

In fairness, the above demonstration is not actually the New Calculus. Mr. Gabriel explains that he has helpfully preceded his earth-shattering revelations with a less rigorous, more geometrically-derived formulation. I'm sure we'll get some real mathematics in a minute.

What we get is him complaining that the Encyclopaedia Britannica does not provide sufficient intuition for the work of Newton and Leibniz, before claiming that his New Calculus is "the first and only rigorous formulation of calculus in human history". He uses this exact phrasing (or nearly) at least four other times in his PDF; if he is unhappy with the Britannica, I might politely advise him to try reading Roget's Thesaurus instead.

Finally, on page 120 of 152, we are given an explanation of the epiphany to which the entire monograph has been building.

"Left as an exercise for the reader" is a phrase used by cowards (and to his credit, John Gabriel is not a coward), so I will point out the slight issue here: it is not possible to calculate values for m and n unless you already know the tangent slope. In his example of how to compute the derivative of sin(x), he expresses the function in its Taylor series form (so much for shunning infinite summations), and then simply replaces said series with the one for cos(x) without comment; he then manages to successfully determine his secant intersection values, and then calculates the value of the derivative function he just shoved into his pile of equations a few lines further up. Thus, his bafflingly circular logic is enabled almost invisibly.

This is it. This is all that this book is. John Gabriel's magnum opus, the thing he has been building up to for 119 pages amid paragraphs of bluster about the idiocy of irrationals and his own vaunted genius, is the ability to compute the derivative of a function as long as you know the derivative of the function. And as long as that derivative is not a zero found at one of the function's inflection points, because apparently that doesn't count as drawing a tangent line (for reasons that I'm sure are unrelated to the fact that Mr. Gabriel's secant method fails for such points).

I don't want to go deep into personal insults here - that's John Gabriel's job - but this is not useful mathematics. The logic is circular, the motivation is worthless, and it enables no new insights not already achievable with the current mainstream understanding of calculus. No statement is proven that has not already been shown to be true within the framework of Newton and Leibniz; there are only restatements of existing theorems based on the shaky-at-best logic of these new principles. So what is it for?

This is a question I kept coming back to while reading Mr. Gabriel's PDF. What is this for? What is gained by stubbornly insisting that π and e are not numbers, but rather "constants of incommensurate magnitude"? How does rejecting the usual definition of division as a multiplicative inverse in favour of some guff about "measuring in equal parts of an abstract unit" expand the horizons of mathematical knowledge? Of course, it doesn't.

John Gabriel, ultimately, is not important. There are thousands of other flat-earthers and similar grifters just as laughable as him, and to my knowledge there is roughly nobody who takes him seriously. (And if anyone does, the chance of some random guy on Tumblr convincing them otherwise is vanishingly small.) But I find his writing fascinating precisely because of the way in which he is wrong. He seems firmly rooted in the idea that mathematics is all discovery and no invention; that we can derive mathematical truths out of absolutely nothing. He rejects the notion of logical axioms as a starting point for derivation, instead seeking answers grounded in reality (by proxy, via "pure geometry"), and he is incensed when people ignore his demands.

But mathematics is not physics. Mathematical objects don't exist independent of their definitions, but they do exist independent of the real world. The rules of mathematics are defined by mathematicians only; if we want π to be a number, all we have to do is say "let π qualify as a number"; if we want to define an infinite sum as being equal to its limit, we can. If the rules disallow something, nobody can stop us picking different rules, reality be damned. John Gabriel has in fact done this too, even if he doesn't realise it - it's just that his starting axiom around which the rest of his theory is based is "I am the greatest mathematician in the world, and everyone who has come before me is a moron". I do not exaggerate when I say this; a pinned comment under one of his recent videos reads:

I, the GREAT JOHN GABRIEL explained why calculus works and I defined NUMBER correctly for the FIRST TIME in human history. For this, I am called a crank by your ignorant, incompetent and incorrigibly stupid mainstream math professors and teachers. I shall keep reminding students of your venom and your hatefulness towards me. You are vile, disgusting excuses for human beings. The longer you deny me as the greatest mathematician, the more shit will accumulate in your diapers.

If Mr. Gabriel objects to logical premises that are rooted in fiction, I have some suggestions for ideas he might want to discard.

[cosmossystem]

on the topic of "sysmeds* have gotten louder recently" i just want to ramble and give my optimist perspective on it really because i dont think its the full story. (*and if you have a problem with me using that term, stick around and youll see why i use it.)

for context i formed as a fictive alter in about mid to late 2016. we were going through a lot of rapid splits and shutdowns at this time. many of the people who split would get forcibly dormant just days later, including me, and im lucky that i got out of it because i know a lot of those alters back then didnt. normally i wouldnt call all of us alters, but this was a very trauma-heavy time and we were going through heavily fragmented periods with dissociation and amnesia. we couldnt accept that we were plural.

anyway, point is that we were in plural spaces around then, and i took over as the host in december of that year as i broke up with my shitty in-system persecutor boyfriend (thats a story for a different day.)

so its 2017 and im 12, turning 13 soon, both inner and outer. we are a rapidly growing system of 13, no 20, no 41-- and then soon its back down to about 30, where it will stay for the next 8 years. but in the mean time, me and my new partner, jam, are learning to pilot a flesh-mech on the fly and letting ourselves be cringy tweenagers. we take over the tumblr blogs (most of which are anti-cgl blogs, which is very ironic considering some of our members now do that) and we start journalling. more importantly, in late 2017 i make my own blog and i start chatting. im basically the only person fronting about 70% of the time and im a huge yapper so it starts to take off.

i post art. i wont say what specifically i do or what fandom its for but the gist is that i run a requests blog. (im sure, if you were in a very specific sect of fandom around then, you could probably guess who i am and what blog i ran, but i doubt that will happen here. if it does, keep it to yourself.)

and i get really popular. im talkin hundreds, at one point thousands of followers. i wake up every day to a dozen asks and i fulfill them and i talk about my day with the people in my askbox. i tell them about my disability, about my boyfriends (later, husbands), and i tell them about my plurality. sometimes i get into the weeds of discourse, but i try not to. mind you, im about 13 or 14 and im the staunchest pro-queer, pro-endo, pro-tucute tween you would have ever met. still not quite all there on the pro-kink or pro-ship fronts, but that didnt cause me any issues at that point, and i wouldnt figure it out for another two or so years. anyway, people are usually nice to me and i am nice, if not a bit impassioned, back.

most of the people i speak to on this blog are singlets. but being that this particular fandom is mostly made of younger people like me (at this point anyway) many of them are curious about plurality or plural themselves. funny enough, while i remember discussing a lot of my plurality and explaining what it meant, i dont recall a whole lot of people arguing over it. no one ever sent me anon hate saying that i didnt exist and that didosddsdosod was the only way to be plural. i DO recall getting dogpiled on numerous occasions because this was during the height of ace discourse, mogai drama, and right at the rise of the whole "bi-lesbians-dont-exist" thing, so most of my controversy covered those.

but on several occasions i explained to singlets what a system was, and what it meant that i was "married" to my headmates, and i met so many people who said they were also plural, and i even helped a few realize they were plural. i truly look at that with a sense of pride and joy because how many people get to say they helped someone realize an important aspect of themself/ves? how many people are out there living their life as single when theyre actually more than one? how many didnt know that word existed until a stranger happily explained it to them, before realizing that word applied to them? its one thing to be gay and know youre gay, its another to go your entire life without realizing that being gay is an option until one day it dawns on you and the next youre out and proud. being plural is like that. its world-altering. most dont realize its an option until theyre told.

its not necessarily that system spaces didnt have their problems. from singlets, there was more curiosity. system spaces were still very much divided, but for the most part sysmeds stuck to their corner and mostly only argued when argued with. that word, mind you, did not exist at the time, we just called em "anti endos". i dont remember when or how that term was coined, but theres a good reason we call them that now, and its because they would say the same shit to me that transmeds would. regardless, i dont doubt that there were probably issues of them going out of their way to harass people, but i cant recall any and it never happened to us, so make of that what you will.

in those times, i experienced more transphobia, homophobia, and aphobia than i did anything else. when i did see sysmeds, it was in their own little bubble. i think the broader world didnt care so much about plurality and didnt know that sysmedicalism was a thing that could happen until maybe a couple of years ago now, and back then, it was treated purely with curiosity and intrigue instead of hate.

but "system spaces" have always had an anti-endo side, and i know this because i was one.

i havent said as much up until now, but in those early days of journaling, it was maybe for a year or so that we were anti-endo. couldnt tell you what changed really, but i think it was just a growing exhaustion of hearing about how terrible and awful and cruel and disgusting those evil, evil endos were. a lot of sysmeds like to proclaim their 'one true real genuine method' of being plural is the only one, and since the start we were never going to fit into that mold-- we were and are fictive heavy, in-system relationships, able to change forms in headspace, no dissociative amnesia, very little memory loss and practically no multi-consciousness, the works. but it was there and it wasnt very pretty. i am grateful i didnt internalize too much of it, didnt spread it very much, and we got out when we did because it was toxic enough back then and its worse now.

i should say that i dont think necessarily there is a rise in sysmedicalism similar to, say, the trend of label policing (a la bi lesbians) or ace discourse at its peak. while that does happen with minority labels when theyre suddenly thrust into the spotlight of the week, plurality has not had that moment yet (thank god, knock on wood it never does) and so far the only way this has happened is with a few isolated incidents that i know of, maybe im wrong. but i think its moreso that the plural community has grown to crazy heights with the rise of more people discovering it and understanding themselves, and naturally there would be a proportional rise in sysmedicalism too. the only main difference maybe is now that we have bigger platforms like tiktok and twitter, and we have prominent plural resources like pluralkit and simply plural, and with the rise in political unrest-- all of those things contribute to this rise in sysmedicalism. they have more visibility and a loud voice despite being the minority, and so they get their fifteen seconds of fame.

i guess i get it. theyre angry. theyre upset that the world is injust. they think theyre allowed-- encouraged, even, or that its their right-- to come into a community that has been building itself for the past several decades on inclusion and resource-sharing and cause a commotion. they have a disorder, they have trauma, they DESERVE to be listened to and they dont want to see their very debilitating disorder being mocked like this, or whatever it is they say. unfortunately they are the terfs of this community, and i can say that because ive been dealing with those too for the past decade also.

what im trying to get across is this: plurals have existed forever. this community has existed for decades at this point, maybe centuries. with every progressive movement there will be a counter-movement, and this one is no exception, they just happen to be particularly loud right now. as we grow in numbers, so does our visibility, and so does theirs. the plural community is fine. it continue to be fine. there is nothing happening right now to us that hasnt already happened a billion times before, and there is no sysmedicalist piece of shit on this planet that can destroy us. theyve been trying for as long as weve existed and they never succeed. keep going, keep telling people about us, keep existing and keep doing your best. be louder than them.

red

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 13

Am I being mean by releasing the last 3 chapters week for week? Maybe just a bit 🤭

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, a garbage family, family trauma, disowning, tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen

Word count: 3,2k

Masterlist

Part 12 ~Part 14 (coming soon)

“Elle dort profondément, la journée a été longue.” Y/N’s brother and parents both look up at me in shock. I can’t help but laugh at their expressions. We’ve been here three days and if it weren’t for her family, it would be idyllic.

We’ve gone hiking in the beautiful mountains, she’s shown me all around her hometown. She has so many memories here, a lot of them good, but when I hear the things her mother says to her, I can’t but wonder if she’s sugar coating some of it.  

“What? You didn’t think that me, a million-dollar man who travels the world every day, with a French teammate, wouldn’t speak French? Not even a little?” I can only sigh at their foolishness; I see now why my sweet girl is so easy to...shape. Luckily for her, she has me and no one would dare hurt her with me around. Her family, however, after what I’ve seen they don’t get the same lenience.  

 I sit down on the table, “Tell me, how much do you want?” If I was some old-timey villain I would take out my checkbook and write some obscure numbers with lots of zeros. Her brother furrows his brows, “How much of what?”

I chuckle, I thought at least he would be smarter, I guess not. “Money. How much do you want to never speak to Y/N ever again?” Her mother scoffs and begins rambling about just how important she is to her.  

“Look, you’re a terrible influence on my precious girl. You make her feel terrible about herself after I spent all that time convincing her otherwise. Now, we can do as normal families do and only see each other on the holidays. Even then, it’s going be exhausting for her. So, why don’t we just take a short cut? How much money for you to kick her out of your life, permanently?” Her brother looks appalled and disgusted.  

His fist goes to find my jaw, but I catch his hand before he even comes close. “Be serious, you might be a rough and tough city farm boy, but I’ve spent years of my life practising my reflexes.” I take him by his shoulders and shove him back down in his chair. “How much will it be, mom, dad? Fifty thousand, a hundred thousand, or shall we go into the millions?” Everyone goes quiet at the numbers I’m talking of.  

“See? That wasn’t so hard? Now, Cash or Card?”  

“They’re so unbelievable! You know what, no, I’m glad that they did this. She’s been nothing but a cruel bitch all my life. Now that I’m happy, she hates it.” She screams into the phone, she’s standing next to the bathroom trying to get some distance from other people.

“No, I don’t care if they’re my family, who says that to someone?” She scoffs, likely she’s talking to Jasmine and Ilsa, I know Alex and Kika would defend me.  

She’s angry, a wrinkle in a brow and I just want to make it all go away. Maybe even, I’ll have to get rid of those two friends as well. They’re not good for her either. “I know I’ve only known him for a month and a half, but it’s been the best few weeks of my life! It’s been better than anything I’ve had with that fucked family of mine. And the fact that you two can’t see that, really shows me something about you two.”  

Her footsteps are loud on the floor of the plane. She throws her phone on the seat and plops herself down in my lap. Instantly her head finds the crook of my neck and her small hand takes fists full of my shirt. She pulls me as close as possible to me and wrap my arms around her. This is where she belongs, nowhere else but in my arms.  

 Her whole-body shakes as sobs make its way through her. “No te preocupes, mi dulce niña. Estoy aquí para ti. No importan, sólo estamos tú y yo. Just you and me. You have me now, you don’t need them.” I soothe her cries, rubbing circles on her back as she mumbles on about how awful they are and how evil they’re being.

I know it’s better for her in the long run, but it hurts my heart to see her like this. Hurting. At the same time, having her cling to me as if I am her lifeline is a feeling I can’t help but savour.  

“Carlos, where are we going?” A sigh escapes me. “Singapore, for the next race. But I have to talk to you about it.” She raises her head; she has these big doe eyes that has this melting effect on me. Yet at the same time, it makes the khaki’s I’m wearing tighter than I’d like it to be. “This is going to be the hardest race of the year. For the rest of the week until at least Friday, I’m going to be very busy with very hard training.”  

I know for a fact that this is the worst time possible to leave her alone. Right now, I need to be with her every moment. She has to be with me and no one else otherwise my whole plan will be for nothing. I have to be the only one comforting her, if not she’ll think that she can rely on others. My sweet thing whines at the realisation and goes to hide her face again but I stop her before she does.  

“I know, I’m sorry. But, I really don’t want to leave mi dulce niña alone, no?” She shakes her head, wiping her tears with the same hoodie I’d given her at the very beginning. I might have blasted the AC, just to see her wear it again. I know it gives her comfort and she just looks like a doll with it on. So small and so cute, I feel as if the love is oozing from my heart.  

“Now, we have one of two options. It’s not too late, we can still turn this plane around. Get you a nice, big apartment somewhere in France.” She stops me before I can even continues.

“No, I don’t ever want to see that damn country ever again. What if I see one of them again? I’d much rather live on the streets.” I can’t help but smirk, taking her small hands into mine.  

“I thought so. What about somewhere in Madrid? Why don’t you move in with me?” Her eyes go even bigger and bites down on that puffy lower lip of hers. I adjust her to sit on my other leg, the friction between us making me rock hard. Soon after, her eyes avoid mine. Her eyebrows pull together and I can’t help but reach up and smooth the crinkle in her forehead. 

So much seems to be running through her mind, and it shouldn’t be. Things should be easy for her, look pretty and be my pet. That should be the end of it. But this world can be so heartless and make the important people in our lives hurt. “Tell me, mi niña bonita, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”  

She sighs and then gives me those big doe eyes again. This time they’re all puffy from crying, and she looks just as beautiful as the day I met her. “Daddy, I don’t want to leave your side.”

Her words are like lava through my body. I take her chin and give her a kiss on her cheek. “I know, baby, but what other option is there? Follow me everywhere I go? You’ll get bored, I’m sure.” She doesn’t hesitate and shakes her head.  

“No, no, I promise. I’ll be good.” This would be more perfect than any other option. Having her by my side for the whole world to see. “I don’t know, cosas dulce,” it’s mostly just an act, I want her to beg. “Please Daddy, please?” She jumps ever so slightly on my lap and I can’t help but holding her waist to keep her still, not knowing how much longer I can hold out. Especially when she’s like this.  

Y/N takes her small hands and hold my face. Then she places a kiss on my cheek, then the other. I take her petite hands in mind. “Oh, alright, but no whining missy.” I hold out my hand, showing how stern I am. But she wraps her fingers around mine and gives me the biggest brightest smile. “You know I can’t say no to you.”  

“Carlos?” I had just finished pretty extensive training for the race. The whole gym room’s heat is all the way up to 30 Degrees Celsius, sweat is dripping off me. My hair is wet, luckily my girl gave me one of her headbands to keep my hair out of my face.

I could see her eyeing me the whole time. I couldn’t bare the heat much long, and just had to take my shirt of. Or maybe it was tactical to get her attention, nobody will ever know.  

“Yes, mi querido?” She gets up from her seat, discarding her phone which she had been so engulfed in before. Her hips sway, she too is sweating and is wearing the smallest little shorts I’ve seen in a while. It entrances me, every time she walks, the way her legs move. The way those tiny shorts sits a way below her naval. Showing off what all the boys are missing out on.  

Y/N makes her way over to me, her fingers dancing on my shoulder. “No, mi cosa bonita, you don’t want to touch me. I’m sweaty and smelly.” She scoffs and wraps her arms around my neck. “You’re saying that like I care.” I can’t help but chuckle at her attitude. Yes, last week changed her, but so far it’s for the better. My hands find her hips, “You’ve been looking so good lately, cosas dulce.”  

Her laugh alights my whole body. “You’ve been using that one a lot lately, I’ll have to google it,” I pretend to wince at her words. “No, cosas dulce, I might get in trouble.” Now she really does laugh, throwing her head back like she does when she’s comfortable. “Why do you laugh?” She shakes her head, “You, Mister Sainz, could never get in trouble with me. You’ve been nothing but perfect.”  

I pull her closer to me, our hips touching the other. “Is that so? I’ll have to hold you up to that.” I can’t help but place kisses all over her bare neck. “Except right now.” My heart rises and I’m just glad the monitors aren’t on.

Has she found out? No, no it can’t be. If she did, she’d be a lot more upset. Or would she? Would she be happy that I did it? Relief to get rid of them and have them well cared for at the same time. She doesn’t look happy now, but she doesn’t look to upset.  

“I’m scrolling through Instagram, right, only to see an edit about you. Guess my surprise that I found out through an Instagram reel that I missed your birthday!” Oh yes, that, is that really all? I can’t help but laugh at how serious she is. “You didn’t miss it; we did celebrate it.” Her eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?” I love the way her long hair sways to the side when she’s confused.  

“Your fashion show, after the shopping trip. It was more than enough of a present for me. Not to mention you got the sunglasses, with our initials on them.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“You keep calling me hardheaded, but you can be even more dense than me.” I laugh, she can be so complex. Switching from soft and needing to be held one moment, to sassy and chatty the next. I love every moment.  

A hum escapes me, “Aren’t you brave, talking to me like that, cosas dulce?” She ignores my words and carries on. “It doesn’t count as a birthday gift, if I didn’t even know it’s your birthday.” I sigh, seeing now that she’s going to be persistent on this. “That’s why I love it so much. You gave me a gift without even knowing. Call it something poetic, like our souls just knowing, or something simple. Like the kindness you give me that no one else does.”  

She pushes out her bottom lips and her eyes go all big again. “Carlos, that’s really beautiful.” She pulls me down by the neck and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Oh, how I cherish those. I remember each and every one. “But, at least allow me to make you dinner tonight.” I don’t want her going through all the trouble, or making too much of a fuss.  

“Don’t bother, cosas dulce. There’s no point in celebrating. 34 Years and I spent most of them racing, to no avail. A team that fucks me over, another year with no win and still no championship behind my name. And the rookies are getting younger and younger, and better and better. I’m sure I’ll lose my seat in a year or two and after that, it’s retirement for me.”

I didn’t mean to spill out all my thoughts just like that. But when she looks at me with those eyes, I wan’t to tell her everything.  

She cooes and pulls me tight in her arms. “Don’t talk like that. I’m sure you want our kids to see you race at least once.” What? She surprises me again and again. This is good, very good. She’s seeing what I see. Our goals are aligning. Before long I’ll have her all to myself. “You mean it?” Her smile lights up the room and my life.  

“Of course, now give me your card. Brutis, Otis and I are going grocery shopping.” That’s my girl. No longer afraid to ask. “You know where it is, cosas dulce.”  

I can hear music blasting through the hotel room, along with my girl screaming the lyrics at the top of her lungs, like always. She’s dancing and swaying to the music. Her hips move in ways that entice. But the most attractive thing about her, is that she looks as happy as can be. Pure joy radiates off her like the sun’s rays. Nothing is as beautiful as her delight and I just need to be a part of it.  

I scoop her up in my arms and place her on the first open space on the counter. She breaks out in giggles, “Aren’t I glad you’re feeling better,” she mutters between laughs as I make marks all over her neck and shoulders.

“How can I not with such a beauty in my arms?” She blushes and still giggles as my scruff tickles her. But soon she gently pushes me away, not far, by the chest. Her hands there is like fuel to my engine. Sparking my whole body to keep her here, trapped.

“You’re just in time,” she smiles jumping off and plating the food she had made. “I made Fideuà.” At just the mention, memories of my childhood come rushing back. Big Christmas family dinners, with lots of people. Kids running around, screaming with delight, as people laugh and drink lots of wine. “Ah, mi amor, now you are bringing back some good memories, no?”  

Y/N’s smile is big as she hands me the plate and pours some white wine. The first bite is perfect, the taste of fish explodes in my mouth. After it’s the texture of the pasta and the hint of Saffron.

“Wow, I must say, mi amor, this is as good as Mama’s.” This makes her smile as wide as ever. “Really, you mean it? You’re not lying?” There are some slight differences, but it’s incredibly hard to notice. I shake my head no.  

“It’s almost identical.” She blooms with joy and her cheeks are just so faintly red. “Caco sent me the recipe from your mom.” I should have known. “My, my, already in kahoots with my family.” I pull her into my lap as we both enjoy our dinners. “Speaking of, mi amor, I want you to meet my family. And I know you still feel unsure about moving in with me. But if you meet my parents and see the city...”  

Her gaze is stuck on her dinner as she just moves the shrimp around. “I’ll meet your parents, but I won’t promise you anything.” That’s good enough. That’s more than good enough.  

Xxxx  

There is a blazing heat through the paddock. Everyone is sweating and I can only imagine Carlos must be so uncomfortable in his racing suit. Boiling hot, you can see his hair is sweating but you know he won’t wear his headband in public.

It’s a maybe five minutes until they play the national anthem. Yet still through the flurry of everything and everyone he still makes his way towards where you stand with Caco in the garage.  

He hands you his drink, with the weird tube and everything, clearly given to him by Rupert. “Here, it’s very hot, remember to drink a lot of water.” You sigh and take him by the race suit.

“Carlos. Your race starts in twenty mintues, you shouldn’t be bothering yourself with me.” He clicks his tongue. “Siempre tan testarudo,” you sigh, you’ve googled it before and he says it so much that you know he’s calling you hardheaded.  

“Carlos!” The people call out his name, they could get a penatly if he misses the song. “I’m coming! Caco, asegúrate de que bebe mucha agua.” He speaks to his cousin, who agrees. He goes to leave but you grab him by his suit and pull him back. His lips fit perfectly onto yours. He pulls you close by the waist, his other hand rake deep into your hair.  

He kisses you back with such passion. Like a fire lighting between you two. Your soul finally finds rest. You’ve been wanting this for weeks and now you’re finally taking it for yourself. And you can tell by the way he holds you and pulls you closer that this is what he’s wanted. He’s been yearning for it just as much as you have.  

Finally, when there is no air left in your lungs you’re forced to break apart. “I’ll move in with you.” His whole body comes alive with joy. “Really?” His smile is wider than I’ve ever seen before. “Yes really, now go before Ferrari fine me themselves!”  

Hollywood Life 

“Y/N Y/S/N’s content quality and quality raises, could she have gotten herself a full PR team?” 

Glamour 

“Fans are going crazy as the boost in Y/N Y/S/N’s conent shows new insight on her and her boyfriend Carlos Sainz’s life that’s never been seen before.”  

Page Six 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend seem to be attached at the hip.”  

Us Weekly 

“People are freaking out over Carlos Sainz’s post race interview:  ‘The first non-Red Bull win of the season. What would you like to say?’  ‘I’d like to thank my girlfriend. She’s the reason for this trophy. I know I should be thanking the team, but I know they’d much rather have Charles win this. So, this is for her.’ 

E!News 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend seen celebrating in a club with Lando Norris as the DJ.” 

People Magazine 

“Fans are swooning after a video of Carlos Sainz winking to his girlfriend on the first place podium surfaces.”  

My taglist is open, just ask! :)

[maccreadysbaby]

House of Wolves

batfamily + oc insert

tw: vague kissing scenes. they're like, really vague, though. like "they kissed" and that's all

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

MACCREADYSBABY LOVES LOVE AND SO THIS WHOLE CHAPTER IS FLUFF. THANK ME LATER.

part three

❝ BIG BREAK ❞

WEDNESDAY — APRIL 12 — 7:52PM

IT WAS WEDNESDAY, THEY'D BEEN IN LA FOR JUST OVER TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, AND VERA'S PERFORMANCE WAS IN FIFTEEN MINUTES.

She was pacing her tiny dressing room in circles so vigorously Bentley thought her boots might wear the stain off the hardwood.

She looked, for lack of better word, perfect. Every single detail of her appearance had been carefully manicured, down to every minuscule hair on her head, burned into its exact place and hair-sprayed there by herself and Summer.

Her purple touched black hair was situated in loose curls that cascaded down, almost to her waist, and her scalp was decorated with a dozen or more tiny braids that pulled it back out of her face. Her makeup was done with just as much precision — her eyes were lined with sharp black eyeliner, and she had smokey black eyeshadow that faded into a glimmery silver. Her skin looked airbrushed, and shined almost impossibly in the light.

She was wearing a silver dress, tight and short, completely covered in dazzling silver tassels like a flapper from the twenties, matched with some chrome — yes, chrome — combat boots. When she’d tried them on together at the store, Bentley had called her a disco ball. She’d thought it was hilarious then, and bought them just to spite him — but if he tried to do that now, he was afraid she would spontaneously combust.

The dressing room they were in was small — maybe twelve by twelve, housing only a small couch, a vanity, and a two-person table with a mini fridge sitting on top. Obviously, the money had been used on the other parts of the LA venue they were in. That’s exactly what it was called — The Venue. Creative, right? — and it was more a karaoke bar than anything, but a really, really lavish and expensive karaoke bar with a stage big enough to have dance competitions on. The entire thing was sleek and expensive, filled with marble and glass and gold trim, and the stage where she would be performing was stunning. The entire building had been rented out for the occasion. On a normal day, none of them would have been allowed inside because they were all under twenty one — Bentley most of all, at seventeen — but the rule had been overridden for the event.

Right now, Vera was pacing the room with four different lipstick tubes in her hands, looking as though the simple product might soon drive her to tears.

“How can choosing a color be this hard?” She muttered as she whizzed past Bentley for likely the hundredth time, giving him an exasperated look and waving the tubes in his face as she passed. “I mean, what color are the lights onstage going to be? Because that’ll change what it looks like. Does red go more with silver, or pink? Or more of a purple?”

Bentley snickered as she went around the room again, circling back past him. “Well, which one would look best on me?”

“Make kissing jokes all you want, Bentley Wayne, but this performance is literally going to be the make or break of my entire life’s dream,” She rambled as she walked, going by the vanity and swiping another tube of lipstick off of it in passing. “It has to be perfect. Everything has to be perfect. Even my lipstick!”

“You’ve been practicing for this for six months,” Bentley continued. Vera whizzed by without sparing him a glance. “It’s going to be perfect. It has been every time you’ve performed it in Gotham, and New York.”

She exhaled sharply. “What if I forget the words?”

“You literally never forget the words,” Bentley reassured. She tossed one of the lipsticks back onto the vanity as she passed, coming back around towards him.

“Yeah, but playing at a Gotham restaurant is a piece of cake compared to a karaoke bar in LA with probably dozens of people inside who can either give me my big break or destroy my band and make me reroute my entire life,” She replied. “I’ll have to go into college. I don’t even know what I want to major in!”

“Hey,” She went to blow past Bentley again, but he grabbed her arm before she could pass fully, forcing her to stop. She reluctantly turned toward him, her arms falling slack at her sides, shoulders slumping dangerously.

She blinked rapidly. “I’m going to cry.”

Bentley reached forward, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into him so he could wrap his arms around her. “You know all your songs forwards and backwards, and so does your band. You’ve been practicing this set list for so many months it’s ingrained in my brain,” He said, smiling fondly down at her. “You’re going to absolutely slaughter it. Like you always do.”

Vera breathed in and out, leaning forward until her forehead thunked against his left shoulder. “But I’ve never done it so horrified before.”

“Well, when you go onstage, just find me. You did say in high school that I was the only one you could see in the crowd,”

Vera pulled back and scowled up at him. “Are you really bringing up that humiliating confession to me right now?”

Bentley shrugged. “I thought it was cute.”

Vera sighed, exasperated, and turned away, wrenching herself out of his arms and going to pace the room again. Before she could, Bentley, latched onto her arms and reeled her back to him.

He reached down and pulled one of the lipsticks out of her hand, holding it up so she could see the blood red cap. “You look best when your lips are red.”

For a moment, she merely stared at him, brown eyes on brown. Then she slid the tube out of his fingertips. “Thanks. So do you.”

She turned and walked away without another word, and Bentley snorted. “Hey. You just made your first joke since waking up this morning. Am I good or what?”

“Or what,” She replied, blankly.

“Ouch,” He deadpanned, following her a few steps across the room. Vera sat down on the small stool that was in front of the lightbulb-lined vanity mirror, dropping all her lipsticks on the table and popping the red one open. He suddenly moved forward. “Hey, wait, wait, wait.”

Vera turned around when Bentley approached her quickly, dipping his head down until his lips met hers in a kiss.

He smiled into it when he heard her anxious heartbeat skip and then slow down slightly, her left hand drifting up to rest on the side of his neck.

She pulled away with this suspicious looking smile on her face. “You’re a dork,” She muttered, sliding her hand down to Bentley’s chest and shoving him away from her. “Now get away and stop distracting me.”

Bentley shook his head at her, stepping back and watching as she applied the lipstick to perfection.

There was a sudden knock on the door. “V! Eight minutes to curtain!”

The voice was that of her drummer — an older guy, maybe twenty-three, named Alex. Her band was still comprised of the same group it had been in high school. Alex was a tall blonde guy who really liked to wear pink and backwards ball-caps. The lead guitar was a short black haired boy named Chase, probably twenty one or twenty two, with the faintest of yankee accents. The bass player was a little older, maybe twenty-four or five, with this constantly slicked back silver hair and undeniable… bass player vibe about him. His name was Jaden. The final member of the band besides Vera herself was Luke, a blonde twenty year old from Louisiana with a southern drawl who wore strictly cowboy boots and wide jeans. He played the piano.

Bentley had become more or less friends with them all. Not very close ones, because he didn’t really see them or spend much time with them, but he knew them well enough to trust them with Vera.

“I’m coming!” She replied, closing the lipstick and dropping it back on the vanity, standing up and brushing her dress off as though she’d gotten it dirty somehow. “I’m gonna hurl.”

Bentley reached over and shook her shoulder, vigorously, trying to lighten her up. “You’re gonna do great. I know you are.”

She spun around to face him, blowing out a big puff of air and resisting the urge to nervously fiddle with her hair, shaking her hands out by her sides instead.

“Thanks,” She exhaled, glancing up at him. “Looks like I’m all ready to go shred some strings or something.”

Bentley snickered. “Shred some strings? You’re a singer.”

“I have vocal strings,” She defended, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. 

Bentley smiled down at her, looping his arms around her back naturally. “You probably don’t want to shred those.”

“Probably not,” She replied, smiling cutely. “Well, you better get to the crowd before you get reprimanded for being back here. I’ll go onstage and stare dead into your soul like an old porcelain doll to keep from looking at all the important people.”

Bentley snickered again, dipping his head down toward her, but she caught him by putting a hand over his mouth. 

“Lipstick,” She warned.

He rolled his eyes, then licked her hand, which made her jump away from him and shake it around with an: “Ew, Bentley!”

He chuckled, grabbing her by the face and planting a kiss on the top of the braids in her hair. “There. Go kill it.”

Vera grumbled something Bentley didn’t catch as she turned away from him and swung the dressing room door open. Beyond was a dark hall, with wood floors and black walls, lined with dozens of doors and, at the far left end, the entrance to the stage. All four of her bandmates were already over there, dressed and ready with their drumsticks and instruments.

He and Vera made their way to them before he had to break off, through another door to head out into the crowd.

One of the boys slapped him on the back when he went by, and he turned to be greeted by Chase, the lead guitar. He was wearing a white t-shirt and leather jacket that reminded Bentley of Rockie, and he had a purple electric guitar strung over his chest. His black hair was parted in the middle and fluffy.

“Biggest crowd we’ve ever seen. Wish us luck,” Was what he said, his brown eyes not focused on Bentley, but on the sliver of the crowd he could see past the curtain they were standing slightly behind.

“If you need to stare into my eyes, too, when your onstage, I’m all yours,” Bentley joked, and Chase looked back at him with an easy chuckle, a little of the nervous tension leaving his shoulders.

“Keep talking like that and you’ll have to buy me a drink,” He chuckled, and then he looked over at Vera. “V! Your boyfriend’s flirting with me!”

She glanced over at them with a bright, amused smile that sort of made the whole place glow. “You’ll have to fight me for him.”

“I might if he keeps talking like this!”

Bentley shook his head with a chuckle, heading out the side door with quick wishes of goodluck to them. He descended down a small flight of stairs and out another door at the bottom, and suddenly, he was in the crowd.

The place was huge. The ceilings were about warehouse height, lined with strips of wood that outlined dozens of square windows that he could see the nighttime stars through. Ornate and modern light fixtures hung down, just classy enough to elevate the whole place. The walls were all a sleek black, and a massive, blindingly lit bar stood high on the wall directly across from the stage, which a dozen or more baristas were working diligently behind, serving the unending crowd. The floors were hardwood everywhere except around the bar, where they became a shiny marble tile, and the huge double doors, situated both to the left and right of the stage, were encased in walls made almost completely of glass.

The stage was to his right, tall and alight with colors. There were people up there, wearing all black, setting up instruments and speakers. The front of the drumset they were hooking up said After the Apocalypse.

Bentley pushed through the crowd. There were high-top tables situated around, but no chairs, the patrons being forced to stand or sit on the floor. Loud intermission music blasted through the speaker system and vibrated his chest.

Suddenly, someone’s arm came looping around Bentley’s shoulders, and he glanced up, catching sight of Rockie’s green eyes glowing slightly in the dimmed area near the stage. The white part of his hair that reminded Bentley so much of Jason stood out bright amongst the rest, reflecting the blue of the stage lights. His metal gloves were concealed simply under long red hoodie sleeves.

He looked… Bentley wasn’t sure. Maybe a little uneasy, like he’d seen something he shouldn’t have. Bentley’s eyes strayed, cutting through the loud crowd of adults and teenagers until he spotted the rest of their group on the other side of the room.

“What’s wrong?” Bentley wondered quietly, glancing back over at him. He wasn’t really sure why Rockie would have just wandered off by himself looking so shocked. “Rockie, are you okay?”

He glanced over at Bentley, blinking like he’d only just seen him for the first time. “Yeah, I…” He trailed off, looking unsure. “I don’t know.”

Bentley creased his brows at him. “Do you need to go back to the house?”

“No,” He shook his head subtly. “I’m fine. I don’t know, I think I might… be coming down with something, maybe. I’m a little spacey. Head hurts. I was heading for the doors to get away from the music and lights for a minute, but then I found you.”

Bentley watched him closely, the way his eyes flicked through the crowd without really looking at anybody, like his mind was elsewhere.

“We can go outside,” Bentley suggested, but Rockie shook his head.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Vera’s about to go onstage,” He shrugged. “I think Summer has ibuprofen in her purse anyways.”

“She has a whole pharmacy in her purse,” Bentley replied quickly, and Rockie snickered, the far-off look slowly fading from his gaze and returning him to the grips of reality. He tugged Bentley along, through the crowd until they made it back to their friends.

Bentley wondered about Rockie. Was it bad of him to immediately worry and assume the worst? He didn’t think Rockie had a chance of relapsing on eating disorders or depression or anything like that, but it was always a thought that seemed to be lurking in the back of his mind like a shadow. When Asten wasn’t feeling well or got a headache, Bentley didn’t worry; but with Rockie, he did. Was it wrong of him? To think of Rockie as so fragile that he’d fall back into old ways, even after he’d showed time and time again to have overcome them, triumphantly?

He didn’t think about it for long; because they met up with their friends in the crowd a few short moments later.

Summer, Koa, Valor, and Asten were all standing around one of the round high-top tables, talking amongst themselves. Bentley and Rockie joined the circle seamlessly.

“I’m so excited!” Summer announced, clapping her hands and looking past Bentley, at the stage. She bounced on the balls of her feet and her hair, curled all down her back, bounced too. “She’s going to kill it so hard!”

“I was half expecting to see you onstage with her,” Asten said with a snicker, his eyes catching on Bentley’s, glimmering with mischief.

Bentley snorted. “Leave me alone.”

The stage lights suddenly turned from blue to red, and the loud, shrill thrum of an electric guitar struck through the building like lightning, vibrating the air around them.

The crowds in the bar went quiet, and five people walked out onstage.

—

Vera killed it.

The whole production had been perfect from start to finish. There wasn’t a note off key, or a second off beat. It had gone absolutely amazing, and Bentley saw several official looking people writing things on clipboards as soon as the band’s short set ended.

It had taken them a while to be ready to leave, having to gather all their instruments and things. A few of the official looking people spoke to Vera and her bandmates when they came back out into the crowd. When they finally made it to their friends, they were greeted by Summer squealing and throwing herself at Vera.

After they left The Venue, all eleven of them went to a fancy sushi restaurant (where Bentley ordered chicken.) and, after that, back to the beach-house, Vera's bandmates splitting off to head to nearby hotels.

At almost midnight, Bentley, Valor, and Koa were in the posh living room, each sprawled in varying positions on the gigantic gray sectional that sat in the massive space, blankets and pillows strewn about. There was a large glass coffee table in front of it littered with drinks and snacks, and a huge flatscreen against the wall beyond that was playing some car racing show. Bentley had no idea what it was called.

Rockie had gone to bed earlier than everyone else because of his headache, he'd said. Asten, Vera, and Summer were all wandering about the beach house, doing their own things. Bentley's phone kept going off, and it was because Vera had posted a spread of pictures from their two days in LA so far -- a selfie of them all in the hot tub, him and her in the mirror of her dressing room, a picture of the six of them waving to her from the stage during soundcheck -- and it was getting a ton of online attention. Perhaps even more than it would have before the live showcase.

Bentley watched a red car squeal across the tv screen, its wheels blowing smoke everywhere as it drifted in and out of frame.

"Do you want to get in the hot tub?"

Bentley nearly threw himself off the couch when Vera's voice came in his head. He glanced around the dark room quickly, but only found her when she emerged from a hallway to the left and made for the balcony door, sliding it open and allowing the warm summer air inside. She was already in her swimsuit again -- a black one-piece she'd also bought whilst towing him through the mall.

I'll come, he thought, glancing back at the tv. But I'm not even wearing my-

"Come here!" She shouted in his head, suddenly.

He looked out at the pitch dark balcony. Vera was crouched on the edge of it near the glass railing, and turned to look at him just as he'd looked at her, waving him over frantically with her hands.

Bentley stood, rounding the couch and making his way through the living room, stepping through the threshold of the house and balcony. Koa and Valor didn't seem to notice.

As soon as he stepped outside, the sound of tires screaming and engines whirring was replaced by the gentle lapping of the sea against the shore, and the rustling of palm leaves in the soft breeze. As soon as he was within her reach, Vera grabbed his hand and jerked him down to her level so hard he nearly fell over. "Look!"

He gathered his bearings and shuffled forward, following the path of her black-painted pointer finger.

Below the balcony, butted up against the beach, was a massive, extensive patio and pool. There was a huge pergola down there, covering a giant outdoor kitchen, and two more hot tubs, as well as probably two dozen long beach chairs, changing rooms, and restrooms, all situated around a crystal clear infinity pool that was glowing blue in the darkness of night.

There were two silhouettes in the pool -- it took a moment of Bentley's eyes adjusting for him to actually make out who it was.

It was Asten and Summer. She was sitting on the pools edge with only her feet and calves in the water, and Asten was actually in the water, standing very close to her with his hands splayed on the edge of the pool to either side of her legs. They were almost the exact same height with her sitting and him standing like that. They seemed to be having a meaningful conversation -- Bentley could probably hear them if he really wanted to, but he didn't listen.

"Don't read their minds," He spoke, and Vera looked back at him with a scoff.

"You think I'm that much of a creep?"

He cut his eyes to her. "You're hiding on the balcony, watching."

"So are you!"

"You dragged me out here!"

"Bentley!"

Her attention was suddenly on the pair at the pool again, and Bentley couldn't help but follow her gaze. Summer and Asten hadn't moved, they were in the same spot, but now, they were kissing.

Bentley moved quickly away from the edge and averted his gaze, so Vera did, too. They didn't stand until they knew they would be out of their sight, near to the sliding glass door.

"I'll use the hot tub later," Vera said. She looked over at Bentley with a giddy smile, reaching over and shaking his arm excitedly. "Double date! Double date!"

Bentley snickered at her. "You're awfully cute for a creepy stalker."

"I would've found out anyways. I can read minds," She shrugged with a smile that beamed even in the dark. "So... double date!"

Bentley shook his head, again. "I'll talk to him."

Vera bounced on her toes excitedly, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and kissed him.

Now. How was he going to talk to Asten without admitting he'd seen them?

—

tag list that KINDA works

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy @bookwarm0-0

@custommadeazula

[asunsetgrace16]

✧ 𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗣𝗘𝗧 𝗗𝗘𝗕𝗨𝗧 ⎥ 𝗢𝗭51

Pairing: Olen Zellweger x fem!actress!reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Y/N and Olen are attending the premier for Twisters, her latest movie and this marks the first time they have made a public appearance together.

Notes: First fic for Olen!! This boy holds a special place in my heart. And I changed the timeline for Twisters' release for maximum dramatic effect so the release happens when the hockey season is in full swing = big hockey news coverage.

Word Count: 988

masterlist

Tonight is the first night Olen is joining Y/N on the red carpet. It’s their official “hard launch” event, seeing as they have kept their relationship very quiet. She is an actress, and recently starred in Twisters. She had a supporting role and there are whispers of her being up for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination. 

Olen and Y/N have been together for a few years now. They first got together in 2022, when Olen was traded from Everett to Kamloops. She lived across the street from Olen’s billet family, and their families had been friends for a long time. They grew close, seeing each other frequently through mutual friends, hockey games, and family events. She was offered her first acting job at the same time Olen was assigned to the San Diego Gulls, the Anaheim Ducks’ farm team, so they moved down together and got an apartment. Now, Olen has had a roaring rookie season in the NHL, and halfway through has 12 points. 

Standing in her co-star Daisy’s house in L.A, she is pacing the guest bedroom where she and Olen stayed the night before. Olen is leaning against the wall, watching. He pushes off the wall and walks to her when she lets out an anxious breath.

“Hey, hey, baby. It’s going to be ok. You’ve done this before, you’ll be amazing.” He tells Y/N, gripping her shoulders.

She drops her forehead to his shoulder, and his arms come around her in a loose hug, “I know,” she says, “But this is the first time you are coming with me, and I’m nervous about how people will react because some people are really mean and-”

Olen cuts off her nervous rambling, “I know, I get it. But you have me, and the boys, and your friends who know we are together. We can do this.”

Y/N smiles gratefully, reaching up to kiss Olen. Glen knocks on the door, telling them that it’s time to load up and head out. Y/N grips his hand the whole ride to the premier, wiping the other one nervously on the seat beside her. His thumb strokes the back of her hand in a soothing gesture. The car slows as they line up, and before long, it is their turn. 

“Showtime.” Olen grins, kissing her head as the door opens. She can hear the cheers for Daisy and Glen and the others, momentarily pausing when Olen exits the vehicle. Y/N steps out gracefully, taking Olen’s offered hand. He tucks her arm into his and shuts the door. The cameras go wild, shutters moving at the speed of light to capture every angle of the young couple. Y/N smiles, donning the artfully crafted mask of an actress. Olen, meanwhile, is in awe. The Hollywood red carpet is a whole different animal compared to NHL games. The noise, the lights, the people. They follow the line of cast members down the carpet and in front of a small army of reporters. The photographers’ assistants give them directions, telling them where to stop and pose. There is an interview, where the lady asks, “Who is this strapping young man that you’ve brought with you tonight?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Y/N replies with an ear-to-ear grin on her face, “He plays hockey for Anaheim.” She says more, gushing and raving about Olen’s talents.

“How wonderful, you two make a stunning couple.” 

“Thank you.”

After the interview, the stars are corralled and take what must be hundreds of photos while the dates stand off to the side. He looks at Y/N and thinks that this is where she is meant to be. She’s completely in her element, and Olen is filled with so much pride he could burst. He thinks to himself, this must be how Y/N feels when she’s watching me play. 

The movie is a smashing success, and the applause when the credits roll is deafening. Y/N dozes on the ride back to Daisy’s, slumped on Olen’s shoulder. He shakes her awake when they arrive, and she moves sleepily to bed. After a quick shower and change of clothes, they are tucked in bed and Y/N is immediately passed out on Olen’s chest. He checks his phone, deciding to go through his texts in the morning, and goes to set it on the nightstand, a news headline catches his eye. He reads through the article, and clicks on another one with a similar headline. Chuckling, he saves the articles to show Y/N in the morning. Getting comfy in bed, Olen gives Y/N a tender kiss on her forehead, before curing his body around hers.

California Romance: See Twisters Star Y/N Y/L/N Launch Relationship with Anaheim Ducks Sensation Olen Zellweger

Watch: Actress Y/N Y/L/N praises boyfriend, Anaheim Ducks Defenseman Olen Zellweger

Red Carpet Man? Olen Zellweger makes red carpet debut with girlfriend, actress Y/N Y/L/N…more on NHL.com

Here’s a new plot for you, Booktok. Pair an NHL defenseman with an up-and-coming actress, in the form of Olen Zellweger of the Anaheim Ducks and Y/N Y/L/N from Twisters.

Spicy Dyl: DUDE Spicy Dyl: HOLY SHIT HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME THIS Spicy Dyl: CALL MEEEE Spicy Dyl: WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE WITH THE HOTTEST PERSON IN THAT MOVIE. THAT’S UNFAIR Brandt: jaw is on the floor Brandt: Dude, seriously. how did you get her? she’s too hot for you. I need the deets Beckie: Dude the way you looked at her during the interview was sickening. its already bad enough when you bring her around here, now there’s eternal footage of you in love  Beckie: You’re whipped asf Beckie: My sister wants to meet her btw Trevor: Dude your phone must be lit the fuck up Trevor: You made Hollywood news bro, you’re gonna be famous famous

[blogurlnotfoundwhoops]

Doctor Who x Reader

PLEASE READ HERE :)

hiii this is my first fic in about 4 years probably :) this is obviously a new account, so yeah that's why there's nothing else here. um anyways, i definitely got incredibly carried away with this, did not have an idea going into it (still think it ended up great), 12 is probably out of character, and i somehow wrote it in under 3 hours??

anyway, I hope it's enjoyable! and please let me know your thoughts :)

12th Doctor x Reader

(really student/professor but can be romantic or platonic, whatever vibes you catch.)

Word Count: 2,600+

Summary: You have been hearing a drumming in your head. One, two, three, four. It's been affecting your mental state, and you haven't been to class in a while. Maybe your professor, The Doctor, is able to help figure this out?

Warnings: mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts.

A drumming had been haunting you for months as you slept.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

It would sound non-stop until you couldn't bear it any longer, and woke up. Every time you would wake up the same: in a cold sweat, panting, with tear streaks running down your face.

Each day the drumming's effect on you grew. It was affecting your mental state immensely. You felt a deep pain and sadness hanging over you like a cloud most days. You wouldn't be able to get out of bed, much less go to classes. You weren't hungry often, and couldn't eat when you were. You avoided your friends and your schoolwork, occasionally texting your parents to keep them from worrying.

You weren't sure if your professors noticed your absences. They hadn't reached out to you in any way. It's not like they'd notice you in the sea of students. They must see hundreds a day anyways.

It's not like anybody would notice you anyway. At least that's what the drumming would whisper to you.

One, two, three, four.

You keep to yourself. Don't have any close friends in your classes, and not many close friends at school in general. Nobody really knew who you were. Your favorite color. Childhood pets. How long it takes you to sleep. How often you're awoken by the drumming.

One, two, three, four.

Nobody would notice if you're gone.

One, two, three, four.

They don't even notice when you're there.

One, two, three, four.

-+-

You wake up. In a cold sweat. Panting. You reach both your hands to your face and rub your palms on your cheeks. Tears were cleared from your face and now sat on your hands. You sit up and release a heavy sigh. It's like the sigh has been waiting to escape all night. Like your body was relieved to be released from the nightmare drumming.

You decide to get out of bed, an easier decision than previous day's had been. You stretch your limbs and yawn. You walk to the bathroom and face your reflection. Today was going to be okay.

Or will it be.

One, two, three, four.

"It will be. Today will be okay." You affirmed to yourself in the mirror. You let out another sigh, smiled at yourself softly, and began your morning routine.

You do your make-up while watching a video. You found that taking the time to do your make-up gave you time to relax, breathe, and be yourself. You felt better about your days when you take this extra time to yourself in the morning. So, whenever you manage to get out of bed, you try to manage doing make-up too.

The video you watched was just of some guy unnecessarily analyzing a TV show you liked. He went into extreme detail about small details from the show and created theories about why certain things happened and what might happen next. You enjoyed his content. He reminded you of one of your professors.

He was a very kind old man who you can tell cares deeply about everything he talks about. He has a Scottish accent that somehow grows stronger with excitement. He's enthusiastic and rambles, and never really has a set course of taking points. He just lets his mind and his heart lead him. Saying whatever he finds most awestrucking and veering off topic drastically. In fact, you weren't really sure what the class was meant to be about.

The course description when signing up simply said, "Discussion-based class, humanities topics." The syllabus was no extra help, practically said the same thing with all the extra school required information listed. But it fulfilled your humanities credit, and the first day was interesting enough, so you stayed in the class.

Thinking about the professor, The Doctor, just The Doctor, made you want to go to his class. You checked the time on your phone. It did start in a little over two hours. You finished getting ready and then waited.

You waited maybe fifteen minutes before getting bored. You quickly put your bag together and walked out your door, then your building, into the outside would. It had been at least thirty-two hours since you were last outside. The air felt cool against your skin, reviving your senses and making you softly smile to yourself. You could hear the wind rustle the branches of nearby trees that swayed. Somehow, these trees looked the same as ever, and more beautiful than ever.

You turn around in a full circle and take in the Earth around you. She really is beautiful. You don't sit with her enough.

With new energy in your body, the dark cloud caused by the drumming smaller than ever, you walk around your campus mindlessly. Every step you take grounds you to the Earth, reminding you that the drumming can't be real.

One, two, three, four.

It isn't real.

-+-

You take a seat in the auditorium where The Doctor's class is held. You gently place your bag on the floor next to you and wait as the seats pile up. Five minutes later the room is almost full, and the tall man with short grey hair walks in, greeting the class with a Scottish, "Hello!" as he places his bag down and immediately starts writing on the chalkboard.

"Music." is written on the board. He swiftly turns around on his heel. He stops and makes direct eye contact with you. He stares for a moment, a twinkle in his eye. He diverts his attention from you and begins speaking,

"So," he clasps his hands, "who wants to tell me the importance of music to humanity?"

Hands shoot up all around you. You had been missing a fun class.

-+-

The class ends and you have a beaming smile on your face. You hadn't realized truly how fun and entrancing The Doctor was. Every student was hooked on his every word, waiting for what insane piece of information would come flying out of his mouth next. Every student including you.

The class was packing their bags and leaving around you. You heard groups starting to chat. Friends laughing loudly.

You don't have friends like that here. Your smile falls.

One, two, three, four.

A tap on the wooden desk in front of you wakes you from your thoughts, a Scottish voice accompanying it, "Are you okay, y/n? I noticed you haven't been to class in a while."

You looked up at The Doctor, no doubt admiration for him and sadness from your thoughts filling your eyes. He could read your eyes. He could read the pain and the sadness. He's felt it before.

"You noticed?" You stifled out.

"Of course I noticed." His face softened, "All of my students are important to me."

"But there's so many of us?"

"So?"

You didn't have a response to that. You suppose he was right. You just looked down at your bag, grabbed it, and started to stand up.

"Would you like to come into my office?"

You looked at him, confused and shocked.

"Just for lunch and to discuss whatever is going on. If you'd like." You look at him, still confused. Your head cocks slightly to one side, and your mouth begins to open, but The Doctor beats you to it, "I lost a student not too long ago. Her name was Bill. Bill Potts. I miss her a lot, you see, she was more than just my student. She was also my friend. She made me better. I can see her in you, and I would hate to... " He pauses, "I'm just worried about how many classes you've missed. You may not be able to pass my course."

You're really confused now. The gears are turning in your head, processing his confession of loss turned into you not passing the class. The Doctor can see the gears turning on your face, in the way your eyebrows scrunch intensely and your pupils move back and forth. You close your eyes, relax your face, and look at him with a smile.

"I would like to go to your office, yeah. Thank you." Your eyes are sincere, and when you meet his, so are they.

You follow him a short ways through campus to his office. His steps and your steps opposite. Like the drumming.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

You try to ignore it. You try really hard but can't. You stop walking, and the drumming stops. You sigh in relief, The Doctor looks back at you with concern.

"Sorry," you say, catching up to him with a smile, "I thought I saw something."

"Like what?" He asks, curiosity filling his face.

"Oh, nothing." You weren't expecting him to ask. You didn't know what to say.

He hums in response, picking up pace until you're at his office. It's a huge room with a desk in the middle, you take a seat on one side of it while The Doctor sits opposite. He has many picture frames on his desk, and a mysterious blue police box in the corner you can't take your eyes off.

One, two, three, four.

"What's that?" you ask, pointing at the box before you can help yourself.

"A police box. It's from London in the 60's. I'm a bit of a collector of sorts."

He had this lie down pat. But you could tell he wasn't being truthful, you didn't know how, but you knew. You didn't press on about the box. You just nodded and smiled, "That's cool."

He nodded too. "Let's talk about why you've been missing class. Is everything okay back home? Anything I can do to help?"

One, two, three, four.

Something compelled you to be honest with him. Again, you didn't know what. He felt familiar. Of course you've known him the whole semester, but it felt more than that. You feel safe. You feel seen. You feel known. You knew when he lied to you just a second ago, but why?

One, two, three, four.

"Can I be honest?" you make eye contact with him, "Like, you won't lock me up in the looney bin for being crazy?" He's about to say something but you interrupt him, "And won't get me kicked out of the school or, or, I don't know, send me off to get government testing?"

He's confused now. But curious too. You can tell he's interested in what you're saying, he wants to know more. It doesn't feel like he's going to judge you. "Yes, you can be honest. You can trust me."

"Promise?" You hold out your pinky. Sure it's silly, but silly makes it more meaningful, more powerful, somehow.

He chuckles and interlocks your pinkies, "Promise."

"Okay." You stop to think.

One, two, three, four.

"So I have this noise in my head."

One, two, three, four.

"It's like drumming. One, two, three, four."

One, two, three, four.

The Doctor stiffens. "And it won't stop, Doctor." you continue. "And it's like it's affecting my thoughts. They're all negative and I'm depressed and it hurts. It really hurts, Doctor." Tears are streaming down your face. You weren't even aware talking about this would make you cry. And you didn't know why you told The Doctor about it.

After a moment of thinking, The Doctor moves from his chair and towards you. His movements are stiff. As if he's nervous. He knows something you don't. He leans down and wraps his arms around you, your head at his chest. You cry harder, and he pulls you closer in comfort.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

The drumming was louder than ever. In your head and in your ears. It's not scary anymore though. You move your head away from The Doctor to release you from the hug. The drumming stops. You reach out to his chest without asking, without thinking.

On your hand you feel two heartbeats.

One, two, three, four.

You put your other hand to your own heart. Only one heartbeat. One, two.

Why did he have two heartbeats. One, two, three, four. Why was his the drumming.

"Why-" you start, but need to close your eyes and breathe, "Why does your heart sound like the drumming. Why do you have two heartbeats?"

"Follow me." He walked to the blue police box, opened the door and went inside. You sat there for a moment stunned. Then you cleared your face from your tears and got up. You made your way towards the box, looking at the door before walking inside.

You looked around in amazement. You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your face broke out into a huge grin. You ran outside and back inside. "This defies all laws of physics! How is it-? It's?" You looked at him expectantly.

"C'mon, I know you want to say it." He had an equally bright, shit-eating grin.

"It's bigger on the inside!"

He laughed with his whole chest and body. His laugh was contagious.

"This," he gestures around the room, "is my T.A.R.D.I.S. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. And I'm a Time-Lord from the planet Gallifrey. We have two hearts, hence the two heartbeats."

You look at him; confusion, amazement, admiration and more displayed on your face.

"Now I don't know why you're hearing my species' heartbeats in your head, but I'm going to figure it out." He looks at you and smiles, you can't help but smile back, "If you want to come with me?"

"With you where?" you ask.

"Anywhere! In the whole wide universe. Not really sure where to start to help you though. Or when for that matter?"

You've never been so confused so many times in the span of one day. "But I have other classes? And don't you too?" Something clicks in your brain, "And what about my parents? And I barely know you! No offense, Doctor. I can't go traveling with someone I don't know."

"If anyone can help you, y/n, it's me. There might not be anyone else in the whole universe." You look at him, desperate now after hearing his words. "And as for your other classes and your family- TARDIS, t," he said, dragging out the sound, "stands for time. She's a time machine. Can take you right back to this moment." He smiled confidently, and made his way towards the center of the room where some sort of console was. He puts his hands on a lever, and looks at you again.

"What?" You asked, awestruck.

"Let me show you." Mischief flashes across his face, but you can tell it's more childlike than malicious. Which is odd for a man who is likely in his sixties.

A whirring sound comes from the center. The door slams shut and the lights start fluctuating. You find it hard to steady yourself as the floor becomes unstable.

"Grab onto something!" The Doctor yells. You do, a railing a few feet away. You grab on tight and try to stand up right. The Doctor is laughing with joy.

One, two, three, four.

The drumming in your head is drowned out by the TARDIS whirring. The whirring sound would soon become a new comfort. And the TARDIS a new home. And The Doctor, he would soon become the most special and fantastic person in your life.

You knew today was going to be a good day. And there are thousands more to come. Thousands more with The Doctor.

He was going to stop the drumming in your head, no matter what he had to do.

[williamrikers]

Some Personal Favorite BL Moments of 2023

this is inspired by @lurkingshan's post, thank you for that 😊

Best Show

be my favorite, hands down. this show hooked me right from the very beginning, and each week it kept outdoing itself. the kindest, most compassionate storytelling mixed with some absolutely amazing character journeys and a strong message at its heart, bmf will stay with me forever (and not only because i managed to snatch one of the utterly gorgeous box sets for my collection). 12/10 puffball music boxes

Best Scene

alan and wen pre- and post-breakup at the start of episode 5 of moonlight chicken. i've rewatched these nine minutes more times than i can count. both first and mix do some incredible acting here, and it's such an utter joy to watch. 5/5 crying firsts sliding down a wall

The Scene That Came For My Life The Most

look, i've talked about only friends episode 6 [4/4] before. you all already know that i desire mew carnally for what he did with that audio tape. i have also rewatched this scene an embarrassing amount of times. 96/69 illicit sex tapes

Most Rewatchable Show and Best Main Couple

this one goes to a boss and a babe. i have already rewatched this show twice this year, and i love it more on every single rewatch. i regularly lose my mind about how much i love this silly little show and start waxing poetic about how much this love story means to me, how much i adore gun and cher's weirdness, their communication, their commitment, their gentleness, their mutual respect, the way they help each other and heal each other, the way they make each other feel safe and loved, which my friends from the bl besties server can attest to. maybe one day, i'll put all of my ramblings into a coherent format, but for now please trust that this show is absolutely wonderful and extremely special to me. 1000/10 gaymer friends sleepovers

Best Premise (That Was Utterly Ruined By The Show)

i've got to say dangerous romance, although step by step comes in at a close second. after the second episode of dr, i was out here writing hundreds of words worth of meta, and then... well, then the show became what it unfortunately is, now. i still want to see the show that i was promised (a thriller about two poor brothers who get into hot water because of money issues and end up having to turn to crime to survive, all while the younger brother slowly falls in love with the biggest bully at school, and over the course of the show the bully needs to learn to become a better person and help sailom overcome the trust issues he should have had from growing up constantly threatened and sometimes physically abused by members of the mafia.) -20/10 stupid fucking windmills for ruining something that could have been amazing

Best Side Couple

tiwpor, you will always be famous to me. my school president itself might just have given us crumbs, but i licked those tiny crumbs right off the floor with delight, and when our skyy 2 made it canon, i lost my entire mind. i could not have asked for more. 2/2 couples t-shirts

Best Date

yang and phumjai on their practice date in episode 4 of love in translation was probably the sweetest thing that happened on any bl in 2023. in the later episodes, they had many more beautiful moments together as well as some incredibly amazing physical intimacy (plus, in the extended iqiyi cut, one hell of a foreplay scene), but their sweet date before they had even confessed their feelings has stayed with me. 11/10 slices of pandan

Best Beach Scene(s)

never let me go wins this one. no other show was as devoted to showing off their beautiful beach locations as nlmg this year. watching this show made me yearn for the sea. 1/1 tattoo of your boyfriend's name

Best Rooftop Scene

despite the stiff competition in the form of bmf and cherry magic thailand, last twilight has this one in the bag. the pain, the pining, the heartbreak, the complicated feelings, the desperate kiss... they even lampshaded this trope in the dialogue. stellar scene. 12/10 sunflowers

Best Sensuality

we've had a lot of high heat bls this year, some of them still ongoing, and since billy infamously said "a lot and deeply", i feel like the next episode of the sign might just blow all of our minds. i'm not awarding a best sex scene here so i won't have to eat my words in a few days—however, i feel confident in saying that when it comes to raw sensuality, no one is going to beat ray and sand in only friends this year, no matter how hard the characters on pit babe, playboyy and the sign might be trying. truly, nobody embodies sensual attraction like first and khaotung do. 69/10 sausages that represent blowjobs

Best Minor Character That Stole The Show

gotta agree with the masses here and say nawin laws of attraction. what a guy. every day i miss him. ∞/10 unhinged ex boyfriends

Best Viewing Experience

this is not bl, but it might as well be: midnight museum still feels like a fever dream, i have no idea what the plot even was, i understood maybe 10% of what was happening at any given moment, and i've never had more fun watching anything. this truly is the show of all time. 5/3 roles played by gun atthaphan

Wildest GMMTV Moment

also not a bl, but the piploy pissing in the car scene as an act of revenge in wednesday club would go down in history, if, you know, people had actually watched this show. what can i even say. 3/3 gratuitous pissing scenes

Most Anticipated Show Of 2024

i just had to find a way to mention my golden blood in this post. i am yearning for this show with an intensity i cannot describe. i literally need to see joss bridal carrying gawin as much as possible, it is on the baseline of my hierarchy of needs. no matter whether this turns out to be trashy fun, high camp, an actually serious show, or all three, i win. gmmtv could not have given me anything better to look forward to next year 💖

[upon-sunflower-trails]

love, well i've waited for you... (part 12)

richard hayden x fem reader | 1624 words

work below the cut

prev | next

Tommy rushed after the potential buyer as you inspected your surroundings, still kind of tired from all of the antics this trip had brought.

The man spoke to Tommy as you and Richard followed closely behind.

“I like your line, and I like your prices. But there's one problem."

He brought you three to a display of countless boxes, picking one up and showing it to you.

"There’s no guarantee on the box!"

You bristled, speaking up. "Look, sir, in a 1992 study, it's been shown that-"

Richard silenced you quickly, shooting you a look. You clamped your mouth shut, and the man shot you a questioning look before Tommy began to speak.

"Hey, if they break down you can call me, even if I’m at home watchin' TV!"

Richard cut Tommy off. "Callahan has guaranteed every part sold since 1925!"

The man nodded. "Maybe so, but it's not on the box. It should always be on the box— comforting you... calling out, 'I’ll never let you down! But if I do, I’m gonna make everything all better!'"

You looked at Richard, mouthing, "What's this guy's deal?" Richard simply shrugged in response.

"H-hey, look, our brake pads are made of a non-corrosive, poly-plated-"

"Son, if you're not talking about a guarantee, skip it! My customers need to see that little label lookin' 'em right in the eye."

Tommy scoffed. "Hey, you can get a good look at your butcher-"

Both you and Richard hissed out, "no!" as Richard slapped Tommy on the chest while you covered his mouth.

"...What?" the potential buyer asked. Richard shot Tommy a glare.

"Remember, chicken wings."

The two of you let go of Tommy as he asked, "Chicken wings?"

"Chicken wings," you affirmed, nodding. Tommy puffed his chest out.

"Alright! Uh, you wanna talk about guarantees, then, uh..."

"I’m sorry, you just ran out of time."

You sighed, carding a hand through your hair. "Well, we tried our best... I guess," you muttered.

Tommy breathed out, "Chicken wings!" before racing after the man up a flight of stairs.

"Let’s think about this for a second, Ted!" Tommy called out. "Why would someone put a guarantee on a box? Hmm, very interesting!"

You leaned over to Richard. "Where is he going with this?" you whispered. He mimicked your tone. "No idea."

Tommy continued at... you guessed his name was Ted's... urging. "Here's the way I see it, Ted. A guy puts a fancy guarantee on the box 'cause he wants you to feel all... warm and toasty inside."

"Yeah, makes a man feel good," Ted sighed wistfully. Tommy smirked. "Of course it does— why shouldn't it? You figure if you put that little box under your pillow at night, the Guarantee Fairy might come down and leave a quarter... am I right, Ted?"

You quirked a brow at Tommy's rambling. Was this supposed to be making sense?

Ted carefully continued. "What's your point?"

Tommy sighed. "The point is, how do you know the fairy isn't a... crazy glue sniffer?! 'Build a model airplane!' says the little fairy. Well, we're not buying it! He sneaks into your house once, and that's all it takes! Next thing ya know, there's money missing off the dresser and your daughter's knocked up! I’ve seen it a hundred times!" Tommy exclaimed.

You held in a snort. Ted seemed to be following after every word. "But... why do they put the guarantee on the box, then?"

Tommy shrugged. "’Cause all they did was sell you a guaranteed piece of shit! That's all it is, isn't it? I mean, hey, if you want me to take a dump in a box and mark it 'guaranteed', I will. I got spare time," he joked. You rolled your eyes. Richard just stood there, skepticism written all over his face.

"But for now, for your customer's sake- for your daughter's sake- you might wanna think about buying a quality product from me."

You sighed, shaking your head. Yeah, you were toast. There's no way that worked.

"Okay. I’ll buy from you."

Tommy began, "Well, that's-"

You, Tommy, and Richard all turned to look at the man incredulously. "What?!"

You stretched out in bed, sighing softly. You guys had actually done it, you'd sold your first brake pads! You knew not to get cocky, though. Surely it was a fluke.

"C'mon, guys! Let's at least take five minutes to celebrate our first victory!" Tommy exclaimed. He was nearly bouncing through the room with excitement.

You sat up from your spot on the bed as Richard sat next to you. "Tommy, as much as I’d love to, that was definitely a fluke! I mean, props to you, that was amazing how you pulled that off, but..."

"We got lucky. Don't jinx it, Tommy. We only have a week left before the loan's due. Plus, I gotta finish figuring out the rest of our trips tonight so we can jam out early tomorrow."

You smiled, getting up from the bed and walking towards the door. "Yeah, why don't you two relax. Our new big salesman and our excellent navigator can rest a bit while I go pick us up a pizza. How 'bout that?"

The two men looked at each other. Richard shrugged. "I mean, sure, if you want-"

"YES!!! That sounds amazing, Y/N! you're the best!" Tommy cried, crushing you in a hug. You gasped out a 'don't mention it' before he dropped you. You patted his shoulder, smiling.

"Alright, I’ll be back!" you called, grabbing your coat and keys before you left the motel room.

Tommy rushed over to the spot next to Richard's on the bed, plopping down.

"So," he began, tearing the map away from the man's hands, "you and Y/N?"

Richard froze, coughing at Tommy's sudden questioning. "Uh, what about us? We were friends in high school, you know that!"

Tommy scoffed. "Yeah, and that's why you've been making goo-goo eyes at 'er for this entire trip, huh?"

Richard looked anywhere but Tommy's face. "Look, man, I don't know what you're talking about, alright? I’m just looking out for her, that's all! It's nothing more than that."

Tommy giggled. "Oh, so that's what the lovey-dovey glances are about? The long sighs? The obvious 'switching the radio and putting in cassettes so she can listen to music she likes but- oh! it's just a coincidence'? The reminiscing with her when you guys think I’m asleep?" Tommy listed off. Richard cringed. Tommy laughed. "Oh, yeah. I’ve heard it all. Your sincere apologizing and your little loving conversations. Face it, man, you're head over heels for her!"

Richard groaned. "Tommy, enough! Look, maybe I loved her in high school, but that was a long time ago, okay? She didn't love me then, she won't love me now. I thought I was over her, and then she came back into my life, and it's like nothing's changed! It's like I’m back in junior year trying to slip a love letter into her locker!" he cried out, running a hand down his face as he rambled.

Tommy breathed out. "Wow, Richard... you really do love her, huh?" he asked. Richard dropped his head.

"Yeah. I know, it's stupid. Make fun of me, I don't care. but... please don't tell Y/N. I don't wanna ruin whatever friendship I’m regaining with her."

Tommy opened his mouth to speak again, but he was at a loss for words.

"Uh, look, Richard... I don't think, um, that she could ever hate you. I mean, you've said some things on this trip that she could've slapped you for, but she just... always forgives you. Even back in high school, you two were inseparable. I mean, it was always Y/N and Richard messing around together, right? Me and the guys even had bets going on how long it'd take for you guys to date. Even if she... y'know, doesn't share the same feelings as you, uh... She cares a whole lot about you. Trust me. I may not be the brightest, but it's plain as day."

Richard's face was crimson at this point as he met Tommy's eyes. The two sat in silence for a while before he breathed out shakily. "Thanks, Tommy."

The two were about to begin their conversation again before you burst through the door.

"I’m back! they- woah, what's with you guys?"

You looked between the two men who seemed more disheveled than usual- namely Richard.

The blond man attempted to form a response, words strangled. He looked to Tommy pleadingly, pure terror in his eyes.

Tommy's mouth stayed agape as he stared at you. "Uh, we were, uh... jerking off!...?"

You scowled at the two of them. "...Seriously? Guys, I was gone for five minutes. And anyways, pizza was closed. I mean, I get you have manly urges, but... I don't know, couldn't you go relieve yourselves in a gas station bathroom or something?"

Tommy snorted at your words while Richard turned pale as a ghost. "Tommy, what the hell?!" he hissed. Tommy just clapped Richard on the back.

"Yeah, so, anyways... let's watch a movie!"

You were reluctant to sit back down next to the boys, but the three of you fit onto one bed (well, Tommy was half falling off, but that was beside the point).

You drifted off to sleep at whatever you guys were watching.

When you woke up the next morning, you were nuzzled into Richard's chest as he had an arm wrapped around you. Your face was on fire, but you simply sighed contently and moved closer. If you were honest, you enjoyed the man's warmth.

You had just drifted off to sleep as Tommy giggled devilishly, snapping a picture of the two of you with a Polaroid.

[zootzbootz]

ykw fuck it. putting my mudkip ramble here rrghhhhh

cw for murder (fictional) also spoilers for typomaniac and rare candy below the cut

starting off with his speech around the beginning of typomaniac. or inner monologue rather.

"Motivation. There's that word I've come to love so much during my existence. And a word I probably don't even understand. Look at this guy. Trying to sympathize me with his life story. What will motivate me to care? Key words, connections? I dunno. I'm not even sure why I'm here in the first place. But it'll never get a word out of me. Not to talk is not the smartest thing to do, they could jump to conclusions, and then haul me off to prison. Or send me to the chair! Whatever, I don't mind. What motivates me not to talk? I don't know, what motivates the Pokemon around me to talk? I'm not listening to him, HE even knows that. What motivates everyone here to try to get an answer?! But, what really motivates someone not to do anything at all? Is it the food they eat? The crap they watch? The job they work? The life condition they're in? Sometimes, that's not even the case, if you ask them yourself, they probably won't even know the answer! Hey, I don't even know what motivates me to do what I do. You see, I'm a scientist. I dissect Pokemon to see how their bodies work. Is it the fascination I get to see how everything is put together? Or is it the thrill killing these Pokemon, because they're usually mostly the ones I hate. It's okay, it's all for the research!

Look at this, got this guy's element of power! The power we aren't even allowed to FRICKEN use because it's against the law! What motivates one to follow the law? You can get away with it, if you're smart enough, like me. But like I said, I don't even know why I'm here. It isn't about the hundreds of Pokemon I dismembered. NOPE. What, do you think I'm lying to you? What would motivate me to lie to you?! come up with your OWN conclusions! But what would motivate you to care? You don't know me personally. Motivation is just a part of our lives. It helps us to do stuff, and it helps us to NOT to do stuff. Looking around me, I can see a lot of Pokemon lack motivation.

Except for one... Which is the reason why I bring up these sort of questions, and it's the reason why I bring up this story”

during this monologue he claims not to know what motivates him to do what he did- to kill those pokemon. but typomaniac *SHOWS* us his motivation. and rare candy further confirms it.

see, mudkip only has one friend. *one* , and he doesn't have parents either. he's around 12-13 and living completely on his own.

that one friend in question, being chespin. and it's incredibly obvious that chespin is somebody mudkip cares DEEPLY about. and possibly admires. as chespin is an incredibly positive and GENUINELY kind person. he *seems* annoying and clueless but it's shown multiple times as well as outright stated (by MUDKIP no less) that chespin is probably more intelligent and observant than most of them are.

meanwhile, mudkip himself seems to be.. rather pessimistic. he's typically quiet. doesn't tend to talk a lot outside of situations he deems necessary or when he's alone with chespin.

when fennekin comes into the picture- mudkip is INCREDIBLY jealous right off the bat. at first, I thought it was because he was afraid of his ONLY friend being taken away. finding someone better than him. but I firmly believe that's not the case. I feel like, honestly ... mudkip would have been just fine with fennekin being friends with chespin. or even being friends with fennekin himself had he managed to push past the jealousy. but that's not the reason he wanted her out of the picture. the REAL REASON was a fear he had- which was fennekin *hurting* chespin. physically, emotionally, mentally- it didn't matter. he's seen his best friend get BULLIED RELENTLESSLY by the majority of the other students at their school. save for a small select people. he's seen him get treated horribly. so of course his automatic assumption would be that he's getting used.

now.. skipping ahead a bit to rare candy. when mudkip is in prison. they're trying to make him talk- to get him to demonstrate how he's able to remove pokemon's elements while keeping them alive. dr. sylveon ends up threatening chespins life right in front of him- and keeping chespins life on the line becomes his ONLY motivation to give them the demonstration

and now.. here in lies mudkips exact motivation.

chespin was ALWAYS his motive.

he was the entire time.

even before mudkip was caught. it was always chespin. making sure he was safe, or at least alive- he was the only person mudkip feeled cared about him and the only person mudkip probably really cared about.

because even after learning mudkip was a killer. he STILL remained friends with him. he still visited him regularly in prison. he still showed him genuine kindness and compassion.

and I firmly believe him dissecting the pokemon was just something that came along with it. perhaps out of curiosity. or to give himself a more "interesting" or deeper motivation than just... trying to protect a friend.

he tried so HARD to keep chespin from getting hurt.

but it was mudkip himself who ended up hurting chespin more than anybody else did. (aside from Dr sylveon but like. tbh I'd argue what happened with chespin and mudkip would have hurt chespin MORE since they were FRIENDS.

and then after it's revealed chespin was the one who turned mudkip in. this fucking destroys him. his ONE friend. betraying him like this, especially since going to prison was his number one fear. the act in his eyes was unforgivable enough for him to outright tell dr. sylveon to make sure chespin sees him dying while being granted "freedom"

.

.

.

I'm normal about this series (lie)

[seventeenlovesthree]

@izumikoushiroweek: Day 2 - What are your Koushirou headcanons?

I probably have way too many headcanons for him to count, so I thought I'd be talking about 12, relating to each of the other Chosen Children and his Digimon partner.

Tentomon: As implied in this art, Tentomon has to remind Koushirou to not only use his PC set-up for work at times, but to get in touch with the outside world as well, including calling his parents. They maintain having a very loving bond and Koushirou actually enjoys talking to his family, even if he has that tendency to get lost in Chosen Children duty, thus pulling way too many allnighters in his office. Tentomon helps practicing to "talk about feelings" and such and since he was always integrated in almost all of Koushirou's activities as emotional support or "personal assistant" (aside from occasionally getting back into the server realm or Digital World to "recharge"), their bond has never vanished. (Practicing also includes hugs. Tentomon loves them dearly. Koushirou does too.)

Taichi: I probably have a million different headcanons when it comes to their bond, but I think one of the things I am particularly fond of is the idea that Taichi easily picked up on Koushirou's quirks and habits over the years - and that's why he notices stuff others don't realize that quickly. He is very particular about what exact brands of oolong tea Koushirou likes, that he cannot stand coffee or doesn't take alcohol very well. They also have tons of insiders and catchphrases other people just give them weird looks over. They're basically on each other's speed dial, especially considering they're working together as adults. And, last but not least, I think Taichi would be the very first human friend who learns about Koushirou's adoption history, being incredibly supportive about it. (One time, Yuuko probably said something along the lines of "If I could, I would already have adopted Koushirou-kun into our family" and Taichi almost flipped because of the wording, but Koushirou told him it was fine, since he knew she meant it well. They both get along with each other's moms very well by the way.)

Yamato: After they returned from the Digital World for the first time, Yamato actually fulfilled his (PSP game only) promise and showed Koushirou how to cook a few easy recipes (besides how to boil the perfect egg). While Koushirou will probably never be a master cook and prefers stuff that is easy to make/get and eat - and while working -, food is actually something they occasionally bond over. They may not be as passionate about it as Mimi and Daisuke, but they'd absolutely surprise the others with their very own curry creations.

Sora: I've probably mentioned this a million times already, but in my mind, they're destined to become "fashion (and texting) buddies". Takeru - as well as Mimi or Miyako - may be a hundred times more comfortable in being experimental, but these two definitely have to figure themselves out first and foremost, breaking some gender stereotypes in the meantime and would 100% be there for each other (while moping and bonding over Taichi's and Yamato's antics). Let Sora help Koushirou to find his own personal wardrobe while he would support her in getting her designs going digitally - once the time is right.

Mimi: Since Mimi slowly but steadily becomes more acquainted with technology through the years, it shouldn't be surprising that they're becoming "calling buddies". Mimi always preferred calling over typing and since Koushirou is helping her to set up her online business, they also end up chatting for hours without end about literally everything - and they absolutely suck at ending their calls. Mimi keeps telling Koushirou to rest, but she's terrible at just saying "Bye then!". Time zone differences make this even more of an issue and it often happens that one of them just falls asleep while the other rambles.

Jyou: Gomamon and Tentomon forced them to become "coffee shop buddies". I'm not kidding. They were so fed up with them burying themselves in uni/regular work that they ended up making them have "Go outside for a change, let's grab something to eat!!!" meetings once a month (at minimum, since Gomamon was done with cooking and wanted to get treats too and Tentomon loved the idea; occasionally they pull Sora and/or Taichi with them too). Since Jyou never felt intimidated by Koushirou's intellect but knows his struggles with "keeping his mental health together", they have an easy time blowing off some steam.

Takeru: Koushirou and Takeru actually grew closer with each other during "transition years" between middle and high school. With Taichi, Yamato and Sora facing high school entrance exams and eventually leaving middle school, Koushirou was more likely to spend time after school with "the 02 squad" for a while (and the two of them and Hikari would definitely have study sessions together at this point in time). Takeru is also among those who's more skilled with computers, which is why he's easily third admin of the Chosen Children network (with Miyako being second), but also likes to ask Koushirou for advice - who happily rambles along (and they're also "meme buddies", sending each other random stuff in the middle of the night they came across and thought the other would find interesting). Takeru will also be among the first who gets to hear about his adoption history in more detail and he'll absolutely feel more attached to Koushirou because of it.

Hikari: Aside from me being convinced that he is archiving all the photos she's been taking in the Digital World for years (while also helping her to set up her own digital photobooks), one of my favourite headcanons is that Hikari's the main reason why Koushirou turned out to be "a cat person"; he has been around the Yagami residence way too many times in his life and probably thought he couldn't really "get along" with cats in general. But Miko, after having been reluctant at first, warmed up to him rather quickly after Hikari kept her around in the same room as them. So the cat would just end up resting next to him while he was typing away on his laptop. (Sometimes he watches Tentomon curling into a ball when falling asleep next to him and Koushirou cannot help but feel reminded of a cat as well and he finds it adorable.)

Daisuke: Despite Ken being the closest person to him overall, Daisuke has had a hard time talking to Koushirou for YEARS, still having a tendency of wanting to appear extra smart in front of him. It was a lot easier when Taichi, Ken or Mimi were around, he could talk normally then, but even worse when Takeru was there too, because he felt double-intimidated. Koushirou noted that behaviour, didn't get it though, so Taichi had to explain it to him in a sense of "Imagine being the new kid in football club that thinks he can't kick a ball if the ace striker is watching him", to which Koushirou just nodded. They absolutely met for a football match a few days later - and that's how Koushirou ended up in goal, Daisuke, who scored numerous goals against him, started to act a lot less tense afterwards.

Ken: Imagining a scenario in which Menoa gets redeemed (and maybe after they find a way to get their partners back), I could see Koushirou and Ken being very keen to make her realize that she should also rather invest her intellect in improving the infrastructure between the worlds instead of harbouring feelings of vengeance and bitterness... They're all smart muffins with bug babies after all. (And Koushirou would definitely be interested in figuring out why both Ken and Menoa were so prone to "getting corrupted" while he himself was mostly spared... They're not exactly prone to trauma dumping, Ken in particular struggles with it a lot, but that's another case of "once he knows Koushirou's back story, it gets easier to open up.")

Miyako: Miyako pretends that she's bothered by Chosen Children Network duty a lot, and it maaaay be a bit bothersome at times, but the truth is that she felt intimidated by all the effort Koushirou put into it. Aside from Iori, she always looked up to him as senpai the most and didn't want to appear incapable in comparison. If Koushirou didn't know he could entrust it to her, he would have given it to Takeru first, but despite her spunky, sometimes unpredictable nature, he trusted in her judgement and communicative skills from the start without a doubt.

Iori: By the start of his uni life, Iori really values the privacy of Koushirou's office to use it as study space - especially because he's getting resources there for law school he wouldn't easily get access to without spending horrendous amounts of money. And because they just enjoy each other's company, being a lot more grounded than the rest of their friends. Just like in middle school, they end up having study sessions, often joined by Takeru, but also occasionally by Ken, going through several of their study subjects - sometimes they even go for outside activities (because Koushirou is most likely not used to those anymore and needs to keep up on physical training too - when they get the opportunity, they take Jyou with them too).

[bestworstcase]

Hello! You've mentioned being a NanoWrimo veteran, and I was wondering if you had any advice for planning out your writing for the month? I was going to do an outline beforehand to prepare, but I'm not sure if that's authentic to the NanoWrimo spirit.

i am i’ve been doing nano most years with wildly variable success since i was fourteen. my best advice is:

start writing now.

not your actual nanowrimo project necessarily and not the 1.6k and change daily you’d need to ‘win’ but start writing every day right now. if i’m going into november from a dry spell i like to start with a daily goal of minimum 100-200 words for a week and then at the end of the week, set a new goal of a few hundred more than daily average. rinse repeat until you’re in the habit of writing a decent chunk every day. THE POINT OF THIS is to avoid hitting the “”two week wall“” which is a thing that happens because writing 1.6k+ words in a day is pretty easy but writing 1.6k+ words per day every day for a month is really hard if you don’t, you know. train for it.

you will get the most value out of nanowrimo if you think about it as a writing marathon. it’s difficult because it takes a level of endurance and discipline that you probably do not have unless you’re already a prolific daily writer.

outlining is in the spirit of nanowrimo and has always been part of the culture; some people outline extensively (‘planners’) some don’t (‘pantsers,’ as in writing by the seat of your pants), many fall somewhere in the middle. the only hard rule if you want the, like, pure nanowrimo experience as it was originally conceived is: don’t start writing the actual story until 12:01 AM on november first. you can have anything from zero plan to minutely detailed scene-by-scene notes for the entire novel locked and loaded, but on day one you open a blank document and start writing.

another thing i’d really recommend is trying to write over that 1.6k daily baseline. an extra 340 words per day for five days will net you a free day and those are nice to have in case you hit a day where you can’t write for whatever reason. it’s a lot less stressful to bank up extra words ahead of time than to miss a day or two and have to catch up.

if you don’t already have a process for turning off your inner editor, start trying to figure one out now. the temptation to delete and rewrite a paragraph dozens of times will bite you if you indulge it. try things like hiding your text so you can’t read it (set font and page to the same color, or use wingdings), try sprinting apps like write or die, stuff like that. you are trying to complete a rough draft. it’s okay for it to be rough.

lastly, use the time between now and november to figure out warm ups that work for you. these are quick, simple writing exercises separate from your wip that you do before every writing session. here are some that i like:

set a timer for five minutes and write continuously, stream of conscious, without stopping until the time’s up.

set a timer for five minutes and write a loose synopsis or ramble about the scene you plan to write: what happens, who’s in it, what subplots is it advancing, what pieces of foreshadowing or set up do you need to work in, what’s the emotional tone, etc.

pick an object in the room. spend five minutes describing it in exhaustive but simple detail. think “this cup is a tall red cylinder. it’s made of glass. there’s about a half-inch of clear glass at the bottom. the red is bright and saturated, firetruck red. it’s sitting on my desk with sunlight falling through it, casting a red shadow. there’s water in it with three ice cubes. the cup is about six inches tall.” <- you want a stream-of-conscious list of observations, basically.

use a random [name/setting/plot] generator and write 2-4 paragraphs of something stupid based on the output. just the silliest or most overwrought or edgiest grimdark or saccharine bullshit you can spew out.

take the last five hundred or so words of your last writing session. read them over. open a blank document and transcribe them word-for-word (or nearly, if you can change a word here and there without breaking stride). the idea is not to edit, but to write out a decent chunk of words quickly, without thinking much about what those words are. (i like to do another warmup and then this one and then just keep going when i hit the end of the chunk i’m transcribing.)

the idea is to preempt writer’s block by giving yourself 10-15 minutes of no thoughts head empty rapid-fire word vomit to get your brain on track and ready to go. warming up before your writing sessions will dramatically reduce the frequency of sudden creative paralysis when you sit down to write.