#some from 2016 that I just listened to this year

[what-have-i-unleashed]

chasing infinity

@howlsofbloodhounds for you my most enabling moot. i think this is way harder to write than anything i've written before so...

shamelessly ripping off arrival (2016) and story of your life. go watch/read it!!

(cw: suicidal ideation, abuse)

chara is about to turn their back on me as they excitedly go on and on about another game that they've thought of. i want to imprint every detail of this moment in my mind. the cadence of their cheerful speech, the unsuspecting smile on their face, the weight of my knife hidden in the sleeves of my jacket.

this is it. this is when it will all change. an end of a story, and a beginning of another one.

years from now, you'll have heard of this moment recounted by me. we will be sitting in a cafe at the corner of a small street as i finish my story. i will laugh at the gobsmacked expression on your face, and you'll splutter, your rainbow-colored flames sparkling like fireworks.

"what type of story is that?" you'll ask me.

"a tragedy," i'll say, sipping on my piping hot milk coffee. "as life is wont to be."

you'll argue that reality is not a story with a definitive end, and i'll humor you. i can't help but wonder though, what the genre of our story is. i've been wondering for a while. i know how the story will end - i've known for a while. in thousands of you's and me's out there, our story repeats itself over and over again, but i don't think i was, am, and will be tired of it. i wish i could tell you about our story some day, but we'll never have the chance.

i haven't understood how to feel about it, and i doubt i will ever do either.

i guess it is cliche to start the story at the very beginning, but maybe it is warranted. it was disorienting - the moment of birth. the softness of the golden flowers enveloped me, but it was small comfort in the face of the pain shooting across my body. everything about it felt wrong - the broken joints, the hollow face, the nakedness. and yet, it was right.

people say babies are born with limited eyesight that develop slowly after time. but i am doomed to forever be cocooned in infancy - a broken prototype of a being, just good enough to be allowed to exist with the rest of the world.

chara didn't mind me. "hello, partner," they said to me, minutes after i started to exist. i couldn't see them, only able to hear to voice so close to my head. "are you ready for the rest of your life?"

the secret is, i'm always ready. like that one time your friend delta will begrudgingly invite both of us to a hangout, i'll grab an umbrella on my way out. delta will look at me strangely.

"it's scorching today. what are you taking an umbrella for?" he'll ask.

"killer often has a sixth sense when it comes to unexpected things," you'll chime in for me. "and it doesn't hurt being prepared."

delta will squint his eyes at me, who will sport a not-so-innocent smile. "really?"

"really," you'll say before i can say anything, knowing that i'd cause a scene just outside the door just to rile the hotheaded skeleton monster up. "let's just go now, shall we?"

we'll leave our house that we'll have chosen together just three months before. the food at the bar that delta will bring us to will be just average, but you'll enjoy the atmosphere too much for me to say any disparaging comments. we'll sit together in a secluded booth - just the two of us - listening to terrible music and watching as the first snow rain fall down on the street. your hand will hold mine as i'll put my head on your shoulders, finally still.

waterfall is chara's favorite place to visit after new home. there is that one statue in the rainy corridor that they like to visit from time to time, most of the times without me. it is easy to tell that is a weakness to look into, but for some reasons i always refrained myself from doing so. too late now anyway.

like usual, chara took two umbrellas in the bin but neither of them was for me. i was ordered to leave them for an indefinite amount of time, and of course i had to be productive during that free time: finding flowey, finding the remaining survivors, finding new ways to entertain chara.

i went to the echo flower field this time. the usual scripted dialogue lines repeated themselves over and over across the field. i was trying to find anything new, anything that would indicate another change in this game, in this script, that would intrigue chara. this time, i found one.

"hey, do you think we're stuck here forever?"

"why would you think so?"

"... i don't know. it's just a feeling i have lately. everything's been too much."

"... yeah, i understand what you mean. but hey! maybe this won't be the end! maybe we'll get through this." a strained laughter followed. "come on, you're such a pessimist. it's good to practice some radical optimism once in a while, you know?"

"maybe. it's just difficult to have hope when everything is so, well, hopeless." silence. and then, "if you knew this would happen, what would you have done differently?"

"hmm i don't know-"

"-maybe i'd have tried to visit people i love more. tell them what i feel before, well, this happened."

"that's all you'd do?"

"like i said! i don't know what i'd have done. you're the one randomly asking me this!"

"mmmm sorry..."

"hey, no need to apologize. i know you're just as anxious about this as i am."

"don't want to make you feel sad, habibi."

"i'm not. being with you, it's the best thing to happen to me. i wouldn't have done anything differently."

it will be a full four years after we start to live together that you say the word. and i'll freeze. the world will stop as if waiting for what i'll say back to you.

"i love you too," i'll say, and you'll beam, arms carefully hugging my smaller body. i don't know what emotions i'll be feeling at that moment. logically, happiness. most likely, guilt.

i'll be thinking about what i think right now, and i'll laugh at it.

the medics will tell me that it is an inevitable conclusion of your condition, that they are extremely sorry for me to hear this. i'll tell them it's all fine, that i've expected this. and i'll know they won't believe me.

i know illnesses like i know my own body and soul - there's no difference between them. i remember the way the insides of my body burned for the first time, the agony, the delirium. it felt wrong, but it was so right at the same time. this was how i was supposed to be - this is how i will always be. and i've accepted that a long time ago.

chara once used my body as a flower bed. strangely, it was one of the most peaceful game they played with me. just lie there in the dirt and play dead - easy enough. the way the dirt was deposited into my skeleton frame was uncomfortable, but thankfully not painful. chara has always been interested in gardening, but they lack the patience for it. but this time, as they said, this time they would get it right.

"what do you want to grow?" i'd asked them before all of this, as i prepared to lie down in the pit i'd dug for myself with my bare fingers. it'd taken a long while, and my fingers were all sore and dirty by the time i was done.

"buttercups," chara hummed. "i miss them around here. asgore never has them anymore."

i didn't question how chara knew. i didn't question why they cared. i just accepted the answer as it was and plopped my body beneath the dirt. chara had taken care to put my soul somewhere else. somewhere safe. it was nice of them to do so, i thought.

my body, with all its needs, was nothing but a burden anyway.

i don't know if being with you will fix me. i don't know if you care about it. i don't understand you, truly. i wonder if i will.

but i don't have infinite time to think. the world doesn't stop when i languish in thoughts. i'll have infinite time later, but never now.

so i'll remember this moment - this last moment between me and a dead child who has been here for too long. i knew this would happen, that everything would come to this point. and then after this, there will be more to come. there will always be more to come. so i hold my knife above chara's head as their back is fully turned. after them, there will be another, then another, then another, then one day it will be you.

i can't wait to see you.

[eggmeralda]

I wish there was a way you could put like. every song in the world on shuffle

[sickgraymeat]

Ok but fr did they cast childish gambino around Bad Little Boy or did they write Bad Little Boy around childish gambino

[beaversatemygrandma]

I absolutely hate that i didn’t exchange numbers with somebody from high school bc of my jealous pos ex bf. Bc right now, this guy is STILL on my switch friend list (transferred from the 3ds one) and i have LITERALLY no way to contact him. I want to reconnect and play pokemon together... His name keeps popping up in the corner saying he’s playing scarlet too....

Now, i would have a way if gmail wasn’t like ‘yeah that was sent in 2016. there’s no way in hell I’m pulling that up’ even tho i remember his damn email and searched it specifically.

[honeyed-disgraceful]

Holy shit I have not listened to all time low since 2014 and I'm going back just out of curiosity and they still sound so good and they made so much new stuff??? Even with blackbear? My little happy hype music wow

[crookedfandomquill]

This is very situational, and sadly may not be realistic for everyone, but I need y’all to understand that a very important part of political activism is fucking talking to your conservative or moderate friends and family.

My dad voted for Trump in 2016. He’s a middle class white evangelical from Arkansas. He raised me with conservative Christian values, just like his parents raised him. When he voted Trump, he was holding his nose, but he didn’t feel too bad about it, and went on to vote red down the ticket in the 2018 midterms, as well.

But I started college in 2017. Higher education and independence changed everything for me, and I went home over holidays and summers with fire in my belly and a thousand arguments ready at the drop of a hat, to my father’s dismay.

I remember crying in my room after emotional, intense arguments with him. I told him over and over that I felt betrayed by his choice to vote for a man who admitted to sexually assaulting women, who built his platform on dehumanizing immigrants and the disabled, who spread overtly-racist rhetoric, who flouted the values of kindness and self-discipline that I’d been raised on. And my dad always had some justification about the “greater good”: fighting against abortion, bolstering the economy, getting other Christian politicians into office.

But over time, as we grew further apart and I lost my will to discuss anything with him at all, he softened. He started asking me why I thought the way I did about the things we disagreed about. He would listen to my answers without interruption, and mull them over afterward instead of expressing his own opinion. And all the while, he watched the Trump presidency become cruel and absurd and devastating.

The first time he openly expressed regret to me, I had come home for a weekend after Kavanaugh was confirmed to SCOTUS. My dad realized he had helped elect a man who preyed on women… and that man had opened the door to more predators. I can’t tell you what it felt like for him to admit that he’d made a mistake, not just in voting for Trump but in defending him for so long. We kept arguing, but it was more debating than fighting. I knew he was capable of seeing my side of things, even if it took a while, and he knew I wasn’t just a sensitive college student with shallow new ideas about the world.

And then 2020 hit. Specifically, George Floyd was murdered, and the events that followed played out on the national stage. My dad was incredibly shaken by it. He asked me if I had any books from college about racial issues. I loaned him The New Jim Crow, one of the required readings for my Race and the Law class. Then I gave him Just Mercy. Then he watched the documentary 13th. Then he joined a racial harmony group he learned about through one of the few Black families at our church and insisted our whole family come. He held up signs at a protest against Confederate monuments in our conservative southern town. In three years, he went from defending Trump’s comments about “Black-on-Black crime” to publicly advocating for racial justice and opposing the death penalty.

We went together to vote in the 2020 primaries. I couldn’t help asking who he’d voted for; I didn’t even know if he’d asked for the Republican or Democratic ticket. He admitted he’d voted for Bernie. fucking. Sanders, then made me promise not to tell my grandma he’d voted liberal. When the election rolled around in November, he voted Biden. I’m sure he held his nose to do it, just like he held his nose voting in 2016. But I know he doesn’t regret it.

I am, of course, unbelievably lucky to have a parent who loved me enough, and was empathetic enough, to choose his relationship with me over his strongly-held opinions. He kept searching for truth because, as much as he’ll deny it, he’s a very smart and curious person. No degree of intelligence or curiosity makes you immune to propaganda, especially if you were raised not to question the party line. It’s easy to dismiss our conservative, conspiracy-pilled loved ones as stupid, hypocritical, and cruel. Sometimes they are. But sometimes they aren’t. Sometimes they will bend to keep their relationships from breaking. Sometimes, if they can be made to understand that their beliefs and actions are harming someone they love, they will make concessions. And sometimes they just need one person in their life to put a foot down, to be vulnerable and assertive and argumentative, to bring the impact of their politics close to home.

As the most important election of our lifetimes approaches, do not put peace over progress. If you have someone like my dad, someone who is good-willed and smart and loves you more than their own opinions, tell them how you feel. Tell them what their choices will mean for you, for your friends, for your community. Tell them what they could lose: your trust, your affection, your respect. Don’t avoid conflict if it could be productive. Because my conflict with my dad didn’t just win him over–it won over my moderate mom and one of my conservative brothers. And it put us in community with other like-minded people and led my parents to a healthier and kinder faith.

All of this to say, there is hope in conflict. There is hope in our relationships with people who think differently from us. There is hope in exposing your fear and anger and pain to people you love. And hope is a form of activism.

[a9saga]

baekhyun - bambi // not too far a throwback but damn its suave as fuck

[twosashi]

hi all! this is wendy @musashi. my tumblr blog was wrongfully terminated, i presume because i recently made a popular post that vaguely mentioned loving trans women and got sacked by the t/e//r////f mob's mass reporting campaign.

the official reason tumblr banned me was for "hoarding urls" which i very much did not do. i just had a lot of sideblogs, almost all of them active at some point or another. now no one can use those URLs because they are tied to a terminated account. if tumblr needed me to release some of the less active ones, i gladly would've.

it appears as though i was mass reported and tumblr just tried to find a reason to nix me because the ter//ve///s were clogging their pipes and i'm the easier answer to the trolley problem at their HQ.

many of these sideblogs are now gone, and i will be working to get them back up in time if i cannot get my account back.

i am putting on a brave face but i am fucking heartbroken. 14 years of my life were on that blog. that is literally half of my life on earth. countless pieces of art, memories, and snapshots of my adolescence and young adulthood just, like, gone. when i suffered from severe traumatic amnesia in 2016, it was that tumblr blog that helped me recall a TON of my life experiences & who i was. that blog literally saved my life.

with it i lose countless memories and almost 10k followers, as well as a community that i spent a very long time building up. tons of friends whos usernames i did not get, and anons who were never able to give them to me.

please share my story! my name is wendy. my old url was musashi. i liked ace attorney. i liked pokemon. i made youtube videos where i talked autistically about my faves. i liked to write, and make people laugh. i loved it here and i am sad tumblr has chosen to side with the mob instead of listening to that story. i have been here since 2010, and my blog and community meant so much to me.

please reblog this post. i am working hard to get my account back, but if i cannot, i want to find my friends and followers again.

[frenchvanilla-mase]

fans are assholes | r. dias

summary: fans compare your pregnancy to fellow wags, leaving you to feel not so good.

notes: as requested! i don’t think i specified that it was twins but it still works. dad!ruben has to be my fav genre 🤪 i hope you all enjoy, some very cute at moments 💘 let me know what you all think! <3

IT WAS MATCH DAY, and although you were feeling rough like you had done the last 7 months, you had promised your fiancé you would make it to today’s knockout game rather than watching from home. he wanted you to support from the stadium, but he also wanted to get you out of the house too.

you were 32 weeks along and feeling very heavily pregnant.

yeah, it’s all fun and games when dating a tall man until you have to grow his unnecessarily large children.

all you wanted to do was lie down and moan this entire trimester, having nothing but a hard time with this one you were growing. you’d had every bad symptom imaginable, from the nonstop sickness and heartburn, to back and hip pain, difficulty sleeping and sore boobs, and now in the final stages you were experiencing braxton hicks, so yeah - all you did want was to lie down and whine. more than ever, you just wanted to stay in the comfort of your own home and nest.

“—you’re not even nesting though! you’re sitting here watching tv all day! get up and get ready!” rúben had said to you just yesterday morning after you’d told him you were too busy nesting to grab a coffee with him before training.

“mama, i think you should go tomorrrow . .” another sweet voice said from the sofa, glancing sympathetically in your direction.

your sweet boy, elias, didn’t want to offend you and make you feel like a slob, but he really wanted you both to go to his papa’s games. with school, you didn’t allow him to go to any late night matches which were always the majority, but tomorrow’s kickoff was 3:30pm and when he pitched the idea, you felt awful for feeling like you’d deprived him of some fun memories.

you really didn’t want to go, but your baby boy deserved it. he’d been working so hard in the last weeks of school and rúben would agree that you needed to take him - he wanted you both there just as much but he also knew not to tell a pregnant woman what to do - he wasn’t the one carrying an 8lb baby around in all summer.

“you nearly ready, baby?!” you called from your room, trying your best to look acceptable for today’s outing. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d done your makeup and styled your hair so neatly, baby dias was really kicking your butt that you hardly had any energy after a shower, let alone doing your makeup and hair.

you really needed them out so you could go back to your old self.

you didn’t remember pregnancy being this hard with eli. with him, you were able to get through the rest of school with him growing in your belly! taking notes and listening in class. sure, you had sickness and a sore back but that was really only at the start and at the end. given, you were younger and full of energy.

eli came along in the last of your teen years but you wouldn’t change anything for the world, same with rúben. he blamed that baby boy for being the reason he pushed himself so hard to get where he was today. he was such an easy pregnancy, and an easy kid.

being honest, you felt more unprepared for this new baby as a grown adult than you did as a teenager back in 2016.

with a few thuds across the landing and a solid jump at your bedroom door, you turned to see your 8-year-old all ready holding two thumbs up. with a man city kit on and trainers, he looked like rúben more than ever. seriously, if you got a photo of rúben back then, it was like looking at eli with a slightly different haircut. it scared you so much. “ready!”

traffic was always bad no matter what time you left, but you got there in one piece and already left eli with one of your closest friends and bernardo’s wife, ines, while you had to run to the bathroom even after such a short journey. jeans were longgg out of the equation so you’d gone with some loose, white trousers to go with the blue football shirt, hoping they didn’t wrinkle too much but still looked good with the outfit. “you are glowing!”

“no, it’s probably just my highlighter,” you pointed to your cheekbone as ines laughed cheerfully.

“no! you look amazing, what are you talking about?! i have missed you!” she couldn’t help but hug you again. “you’re ready to pop!”

she felt your bump and you huffed a sigh, pulling your sunglasses down, “i know, it feels like it.”

you didn’t really like being out this far along, not because you were afraid, but you were at that stage were you were starting to feel gross. like, you looked like a whale no matter what you wore or styled yourself to look like. realistically – you were one of the most beautiful pregnant women the internet had saw. truly, you may have felt like an elephant, but you were still posted on WAG accounts, getting shared by millions of women who begged they could only look as good as you when pregnant or better - envied you for still looking so hot while suffering the struggles of pregnancy.

how?! 😭❤️

life’s not fair!!!! 😫

what’s her secret?!!! 😍😭🙏🏼

but you could have gotten a thousand comments like that . . but all it took was the one bad one.

fucking hell, keep her inside 😂🫣

who is that??

🤣🤣🤣🤮🤮

a lot of the time you didn’t care because you knew how the internet worked, and you know the majority were sad-little-pathetic-football-fan men. they barely impacted you.

when it was women on the other hand . . .

“i just can’t believe one woman would say that to another woman,” you tilted your phone to show ines the replies. “what happened to the whole ‘girls help girls?’” you had to put your phone down before you ended up on a gossip page for arguing with people in your comment section.

“it’s always down to jealousy, babe. they hate you ‘cause they ain’t you,” she pointed, the same thing you had told her when she got her first negative comment, and you smiled at her attempt of making you feel better. she was such a good friend.

the internet was a weird place. your life was a weird place, you didn’t think there’d be a day people hated you for simply being with a person. you found it weird paparazzi followed you around when rúben was the famous one. you found it weird there were accounts dedicated to you when you didn’t do anything. it caught you off seeing people notice every little thing about you or knew things you forgot you’d explained. it did add a little bit of pressure knowing you were being watched and most likely compared to other beautiful WAGS. you’d be lying if you didn’t say you’d put on makeup in fear you’d be posted all over those news articles and WAG accounts.

you forgot how stressed matches made you until kickoff, two minutes in and already overthinking how this would go down. rúben had your heart fluttering nontheless with how he ran up and down the pitch, giving orders all sweaty and even repping the captain band for a bit. it made you feel real good about your baby daddy.

“come on, pa!” your son would shout when a bit of a ruffle would occur, his father speaking passionately to the ref with frustrating hand movements.

the halftime whistle blew and you let out a breath, fanning yourself as your body relaxed for a small moment. 0-0. “ma, i need to go to the bathroom.”

“me too, let’s go!”

perks of dating a footballer? renting out their own box for friends and family - including the private bathroom. no queues around hereee.

walking through the rows and steps, you couldn’t help but feel eyes pinned to you. ines would tell you because you’re a WAG of a player (you regret ever educating her on that term) but really you felt like it was because you looked like a whale making her way through the stands.

eli convinced you to do a lap of the stadium just once to ‘stretch your legs’ when really it was something he always liked to do as he believed it ‘made halftime pass quicker’. so hobbling around with few staff members recognising the kid (or rather seeing the clear evidence he was a mini rúben) , you strolled around the packed building, trying to squeeze past football fans, getting stopped once for a picture.

“thank you so much!”

“no worries at all,” you waved to the two girls, shooting them your kindest smile. they were so lovely, and even complimented you for ‘pulling off pregnancy so well’.

“you’re sLayiNg” eli mocked them, taking your hand.

“shut up,” you tutted. you appreciated being told you were still slaying.

“matt!”

the 8-year-old suddenly bolted to a familair security guard in a neon vest who was delighted to see the boy. “my man!”

you didn’t bother rushing over, you were out of breath as it was and decided to just lean on the wall while elias got his quick catch up, waving at matt instead. halftime was almost over. you should be heading back now.

“—not the best one though.”

“—no, sasha is definitely the best wag.”

i swear, the word ‘wag’ triggers you like nothing else.

you tried not to look around, but to your left, you could make out two bodies mingling with each other. both wearing light blue tops with stylish jeans and trainers, the two girls waiting outside the bathroom, trying to talk quietly between then in a mumbled manner.

you were a mum - you had mastered your hearing to hear the grass grow.

“–but sasha’s not pregnant?”

“–but if she was, she’d have a cute bump, not . . ”

their silence had you believe they’d glance in your direction, and it took every bone in your body not to stare dead on at them with a smile to let them know you heard every word - but you didn’t. you played oblivious and stayed watching eli, a forced sweet smile on your lips.

“–foden’s girl always has a cute little bump too!”

“–oh my god, yes. she’s stunning.”

“–he’s stunning too, to be fair.”

“eli, come on son!” you wanted to bang your head on the wall not wanting to endure the conversation anymore. now you’d tune in, you couldn’t tune out.

“–ok. bye matt! see you later,” he didn’t waste a second to return to you. “see you soon, buddy!”

you waved at matt and led him through the crowds, not meaning to hold his hand so tight until he pointed it out. “ow, ma, you’re hurting me.”

“sorry baby.” you didn’t sound sorry but you felt utterly hot and bothered. and not in the good way.

for some unreasonable reason, a small line of carts drove through the halls, and you stood against the wall as they passed by, holding your son by his shoulders. you could hear a small utter of whispers from your side but refused to turn your head. you really needed to fucking sit down.

“—dias’ girl! look at the size of her!”

“–rob that’s so mean! she’s pregnant!”

“WOW!” eli stole your attention as he almost stepped out in front of a last minute one zooming by. you smiled, and quickly manoeuvred him on your way.

“keep going, keep going,” you shuffled behind him in the stands, but stopped amidst a waiting line as someone caused hassle. your foot kicked something. “oh i’m so sorry!”

you accidentally tapped your foot to a lady’s handbag, but she smiled and waved you off. “you’re alright, don’t worry!” shortly adding, “i’m not surprised!” glancing to your belly.

it wasn’t malicious, but it was about to be the last straw of some floodgates. “ha! i know . . I’m like a whale.”

“how far along are you?” her friend asked.

“about 7-8 months,” you smiled sweetly, ignoring the fact they didn’t assure you that you didn’t look like a whale. thanks.

“oh wow!”

“i know,” you fake laughed. why wasn’t this line moving?

“is it twins or just the one?”

you tried to stop your eye twitching. who in the right kind said that?! was that . . a backhanded compliment?! what that even a compliment?! or was she genuinely asking in a stupid and nosey manner? “no, but it feels like it,” you fake laughed, and they did too. twats.

“oh my! you’re so big!”

“he or she will be a big boy or girl,” the other corrected with her pint in hand, knowing her friend’s words had just flown out of her mouth.

“yeah . .” you were done with this conversation but you didn’t dare be rude. thankfully, the line moved, and they waved goodbye. “congratulations!”

“thank you!” you replied, turning back around, mouthing absolute knobheads.

“mum, i don’t think you’re a whale,” eli’s hand patted your own that rested on his shoulder, bringing you back down to earth.

your heart thumped and although he didn’t look at you, your heart melted to a puddle as you squeezed his shoulders and ruffled his hair, knowing you’d embarrass him with a kiss. “thank you baby. you’re always to sweet to me.”

and he was. you actually . . wanted to cry. shock.

“hey!” ines greeted. “where’d you guys go?”

you only shook your head and nodded to you son who was standing again, ready and recharged for more yelling. you felt ines squeeze your hand and you looked at her, “are you ok? you look . .”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you dabbed your eyes and put your sunglasses back on. “just . . stupid stuff, and then e said something really sweet and i just,” you held your heart which made her laugh and reassure her for the time being. “ok, but . . you can tell me, y’know?”

“just being emotional,” you said the obvious, making her laugh as you leaned into her for support.

you would tell her later, but right now, you were going to use the rest of the game as your excuse to start screaming.

-

the game ended on a win. you saw rúben briefly when the players walked around and applauded, and eli mirrored his excitement and happiness, waving and calling to him as he spotted you guys. he was ecstatic you could make it.

it was after 6 by the time you got home and settled. you were about to order food when you second guess your options, today’s events replaying in your mind:

look at the size of her!

sasha would have a cute bump.

you’re so big!

you knew you were pregnant but there were far nicer things to say to a pregnant lady. what a bunch of assholes.

instead, you cooked some carbs up for eli and made yourself a seperate dinner, feeling the need to watch what you were eating now - you’d be giving birth soon and all those pregnancy cravings didn’t just leave when the baby came. you weren’t silly - you weren’t going to deprive yourself of food, but maybe they had a point - why wasn’t your bump considered cute? was it hard to tell you were pregnant? what were you doing differently?

you were on the verge of calling sasha and asking her what she put in her green smoothies when the door opened.

“meu amor?”

“in here champ,”

something rúben didn’t expect to see what you lying on the couch with a salad balanced on your bump, and you munching away like it was a 5-star dish. “what’s this about . . ?” he smiled sceptically, dropping his bag to the floor.

“what’s what?”

“that.” he nodded to your plate.

you shrugged. “took a notion for it.”

“for . . a salad?” he clarified, looking down at you, entertained in some sense.

your craving for the last 5 months had been anything with chocolate frosting on it. rúben had watched you talk yourself out of buying a tub of it on its own because you knew if was weird and would have to bake go use it.

“yeah.”

to be fair, the salad was tasty, and you were enjoying it but . . at 7 months pregnant? rúben tilted his head. “where’s eli?”

“is his room.”

“he had salad too?”

“he had pasta and garlic bread.”

now he knew something was up. you? not eating garlic bread? italian in general?

someone had said something to you.

he looked at you concerningly, but he was too afraid to ruin the peaceful moment. you seemed calm. he had won a game and you were in a good mood today. baby boy or girl mustn’t be giving you too much trouble so that was a win in itself. so he just leaned down and kissed you lovingly. “hi.”

“hi,” you smiled, pecking him three more times before he rose again. “well done today.”

“thank you,” his hand touched your belly for about two seconds before you swept it off smoothly with your own, squeezing it instead. you smiled up at him again, “love you.”

he kissed you again trying to hide his confusion – but something was up. you were being odd. “love you too.”

and he left and headed for eli’s room, leaving you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before slouching again and continuing with your dinner.

-

the rest of that evening, rúben was correct. you weren’t yourself.

your mind was somewhere else, and your head wasn’t out of your phone. constantly scrolling, you had overanalysed every picture captured of you today and tried not to nitpick. reading comments. comparing yourself. he wondered what you were doing.

but everyone else did have small bumps. everyone’s looked so cute. they didn’t use pregnancy as an excuse to eat whatever they wanted or slack with self-care. they still wore tight clothing. they still looked gorgeous. you began to compare yourself to all these other wives and girlfriends on the page, wondering how on earth they looked that good.

ummmm, ‘cause maybe they’re 12 weeks along and you’re triple that?

the next morning, rúben kissed you in the kitchen before leaving. “what’s that?”

“what?”

“that,” he nodded to the drink in your hand.

“a smoothie?”

“for breakfast?”

“well yeah,” you furrowed your brows, and he immediately shook his head, pulling that judgemental, disapproving look you sometimes wanted to punch. “no, no, come on, don’t be silly, now,” he almost laughed, “you need to eat something proper.”

“it’s a smoothie, it has everything i need in it?”

“y/n, make something to eat. you’re almost 8 months pregnant for crying out loud,” he looked at you seriously. he didn’t want to sound like he was scolding you or making you feel stupid but you knew he was worried about the lack.

overprotective rúben had always been a constant in your relationship but when you were pregnant — phew, “you got my baby in there.”

“–and he or she is looked after, it’s a healthy drink—”

he took it from your hand and kissed your cheek in the process, taking it with him to training with a smirk, “stop being lazy and cook.”

you were furious. you were actually annoyed that he had taken the drink himself and didn’t find it funny. he kissed eli’s head and the door closed, and you were left highly irritated.

you couldn’t see eli shrink, but he did, looking wide-eyed at the table as he considered his dad a brave brave man in that moment to do that to you - considering the look of your face.

and as a pregnant woman with her emotional struggling to stay in check - you lost it as they all blended together once eli was dropped off at school, sitting in a car park of a café you regretted going too now that you sat with your decaf latte and triple-choc muffin. the frustration quickly turned to tears as you had a moment, eyes in your hands, thinking over everything the last couple days.

yes you were pregnant, but was there a need to be that big? were you even that big compared to others? were you really that bad to look at? that unflattering? did it even looking like you were pregnant? the loose clothing probably didn’t help, but who wanted to wear tight clothing? pregnancy was hard - it was hard to glamourise it all the time!

you’d never cried over looking bad the first time you were pregnant, maybe once or twice when a pair of jeans didn’t fit or you couldn’t reach your shoelaces, but never over the way you felt about yourself. you actually were starting to feel disgusting, and it was embarrassing because you let randomers make you feel this way!

. . and then the pathetic-ness turned into anger because why were people such assholes?! how can they not keep an opinion to themselves?! making you feel bad about your baby!

. . and then the anger turned to guilt because your sweet little baby was just trying to grow and be healthy and you were upset over it. tears again.

you didn’t know how to fix it. the damage was already done, you had a month left, there was no going back now with salads and smoothies, you yanked your paper bag with your muffin off the floor, eating your money’s worth. rúben subconsciously popped into your head as he was probably eating some fruit salad or nutritious sandwich at this time.

oh rúben. you wished he was here but you also knew you wouldn’t want him near you at the minute, not when you weren’t feeling yourself and you had people in your comments telling you he was on his way of replacing you.

he would call you stupid, but rúben just wouldn’t understand. he wouldn’t get being on the other side, the built in competition that automatically comes with being a woman, more than ever with this lifestyle he had given you. one where you’re compared left right and centre with a certain standard to achieve.

you bet every handbag you owned, he’d screw his face up and go ‘are you serious’ if you told him your issue. he knew you were above anyone commenting stupid things on your posts and found it immature of you in a way if you did take those things to heart - i mean they were nobodies! jealous nobodies! but that’s easy for him to say, his comments are flooded with never ending support, guys praising him for his talent, physique and hard work and most girls telling him to hurry up and leave you. spamming with flame and tongue emojis, thirsting over your man just the way you did, only boosting his ego more which rúben did not need.

so you just felt silly, and picked at your muffin, accepting your were going to be a whale wag.

you felt like a slob when you got back home, staying on the couch after cleaning, and then crying except you were watching a movie to blame it on that.

you still couldn’t get comments out of your head, i mean what was an ‘expired wag?!’ or a ‘busted oven?!’ what did that mean? and why always the skull emojis?!

scrolling once again through photos of comparison, you scrolled onto a beautiful pic of your beautiful bestie, ines, and straight away phoned her. “hey.”

“hey! what’s up! what’s going on? why do you sound you out of breath?”

“why do you think?” you laughed.

“girl are you crying again?!”

and you started talking. you had to get things off your chest and you needed ines to make you feel better, to assure you and let you rant, and she happily did, after all, you’d always been there when she was having a moment.

“–what did rúben say?”

“nothing, i haven’t told him anything. he’ll just tell me i’m being ridiculous.”

“he won’t!”

“ines, he would, he’s not like bernardo. rúben’s harsh!”

“so are you! which is why i can’t believe you’re still crying over this!”

he was harsh in the good way, in the same way you were. you were both practical. real. realistic. you picked each other up and told each off when you were being ridiculous. pulled each other out their asses. brought you back down to earth.

but you just needed comforted at this current moment by your girl.

as you continued to chat and laugh more than you thought, the front door opened without your acknowledgment and rubes stepped through. freshly showered after a long morning of training, he instantly heard your voice rambling over the phone. he took notice of the tissue also crumpled on the floor by the door (you’d been carelessly tossing them for dramatic effect) and paused after he thought he’d heard a sad sniffle. he closed the door quietly and crept near the living room.

“i can’t help it, i do just feel . . blegh,” you felt like you were being ridiculous but you couldn’t help it. “like, why does everyone keep making a big fuss about it? am i really that massively huge or am i just not liked?”

he heard another woman’s laughter on your phone and recognised her as soon as she began talking to you, “y/n, i promise no one is making a fuss of it, it probably just seems in your face all the time because you keep going back to check. i promise the world is not broadcasting you,” ines chuckled sweetly, which followed your sad laugh also.

“well the wag world does!”

“y/n!” she laughed, “you’re overthinking it. i promise you have nothing to worry about. the only person who’s opinion should matter to you is rúben’s and everybody knows he has you on a pedestal!” rúben found himself smiling. he’d always been a fan of ines. “he’s called you his wife since you came to manchester! he’s always been proud to show you off, you look good - you look amazing! people are just saying that stuff about you to make themselves feel better.”

“mm, i guess,” you sniffed, holding your forehead. “i don’t know, it’s just been getting to me . . and i’m not saying to rúben because he’ll tell me i’m being stupid. i wouldn’t be surprised if he was leaving an hour earlier in the mornings to get away from me. it’s not like my looks can make up for my psycho-ness anymore,” you joked.

“y/n!” she tried not to laugh. “though, pregnancy psycho-ness is definitely real.”

it is, rúben mentally agreed also, though his heart still sank further as he heard you talk about yourself in such ways. he didn’t want to call you ridiculous but come on, you were pregnant! didn’t they all count as compliments to a pregnant lady?!

“it is,” you let out a sigh, “i wouldn’t want to be around me either, just this big angry rhino walking around the house,” you laughed together, “he goes to a paris event on friday anyway, he’ll get a break and have plenty of french models to—”

a clear of a throat had you whipping your head to the door, seeing rúben’s hard stare. your mouth went dry. “uhhh, ines i’ll call you back.”

you felt bad hanging up as she was speaking back, too shocked you’d been heard rambling for the last couple minutes. or probably longer! how long had he been standing there?!

“listen—”

“french models?! french models, y/n.”

“rúben, it’s not in context—”

“oh i heard the context, i heard everything,” he came in the room, not one spot of happiness found on his face. he was fuming. you could tell, and disappointed too, you felt like eli getting told off by him, throwing yourself back into the couch as he stood with that gruff, intimidating look, hands shoved in his pockets.

“you don’t get it—” you could already feel the tears welling in your eyes, though a pit of frustration was brewing in your chest hot and fast. this was going one of two ways.

“what don’t i get? you don’t tell me what’s wrong when i ask you!”

“‘cause you wouldn’t understand!”

“ok but what i do understand is my wife accusing me of what? getting to pick which ‘french model’ i want to take home next week?”

now your face fell flat, realising how ridiculous and cruel that sounded. you shouldn’t accuse him of that kind of stuff.

“rubes, i just—” your mouth felt dry again. tears brimming again, you could feel how hot they were. the words were on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t know how they were gonna come out.

“what is it? tell me,” he pushed, eager for you to actually get out what you wanted to say so he could help sort it. “i’m here to listen.”

and you did, you unleashed it all. “people are assholes. your fans are assholes. i’m sorry but i cannot believe the stuff people have no issue saying to other people - pregnant people at that! as if the 9 months aren’t hard enough, i have this mob of men and women on my back, judging and critiquing my every outting. i can’t do it anymore, it’s actually ruining whatever self-confidence i have left!” the tears were streaming as you began your rant, choking down sobs as you moved your hands, a fury behind all the sadness.

rúben crouched down, wanting to be nearer as you let it all out. “every day, every hour, i have someone online, reminding me off how big i am, how unflattering my paparazzi pic is, how whale-like i am! how hard it’s gonna be to shift this baby weight! i’m getting put in competition with every other pregnant wife and girlfriend of your teammate and showed how much better they pull it off! how gorgeous they look all the time! how their bumps are ‘cute’ and small and ‘suits them.’ i heard it myself at your game the other day! it’s like they’ve never seen an un-photoshopped pregnant woman before!” you met his eyes, realising you were probably being silly and that there were bigger problems in the world. “i just feel disgusting, rúben. i never felt like this with eli, i was in this perfect little bubble but this time so different. i don’t want to leave the house when i know a monstrosity of photos are getting taken of me, pointing out every flaw. i don’t have a cute, small bump! i do look like a whale! i can’t dress sexy! and i get what people are saying when they say it’ll be a bit before you can look at me again ‘cause god knows—”

“shh,” he quickly silenced you, placing a finger to your lips. his brows were furrowed as yours did, fed up of hearing you ramble about all the bad things about yourself. he felt pain in a way. he just couldn’t believe you actually thought these things about yourself. “wha— . . . are you being serious?”

“OH MY GOD!” you threw your arms up. see!

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, meu amor,” his big hands softly caressed your legs in front of him, along your smooth thighs to stop you from exploding again, “i’m sorry. it’s just . . i . . it annoys me that you let these things get to you, these random, strange people that you don’t even know. you take their opinion over mine. so mine doesn’t matter, it doesn’t count?” he looked you deeply in the eye, “how does that make sense? explain that to me.”

your head hit the cushion as you groaned but rúben held your hands comfortingly. he didn’t want to make you feel stupid, but he wanted to hear your thought process. “to me, it’s like . . you have the choice of walking into a room full of all these people who hate you, and you know the hate you, after being in one full of people you love . . and you go into the hateful one and are surprised that all these people are saying all these bad things about you when you could have just left it alone and focused on the lovely ones - from people who matter to you! who are actually in your life! do you understand?”

you nodded along, entranced by his eyes and how they were able to ground you alone. “you know that i think you’re the best thing in the world. you know i would love you if—” he thought off the top of his head, “you had 10 extra toes. a third eye. if you had a cow nose. elf ears!” your hair slipped silkily through his fingers, “you know i think you’re the most beautiful woman ever even dressed in a trash bag. i would still love you if you did wear trash bags. if you had a cow nose. if you weighed the same as a cow. if you weighed the same as a baby cow,” you broke a chuckle at that. “i’ve loved you through our ugly teen years, when i shaved my hair and your eyebrows were stick thin,” you laughed more as he let out a breath of relief, “i loved you when with vomit down your shirt and your hair dyed that weird colour—”

“rúbennn . .”

“what? and i loved you when you had eli in your stomach, and he was big baby,” his hand touched your belly, moving it in the same motion he always did because that’s when he got to feel the small kicks of this baby dias. “i loved you even more even when i saw how he came out,” he shot you a wildered look.

you facepalmed, dragging your hand down dreadfully at the thought of having to relive that moment all over again in over a months time.

his features turned as his thoughts turned sour, “why are you letting stupid fucking people affect you?”

“i don’t know . . i guess ‘cause so many people are saying it i . . it must be true to some extent—”

“y/n—”

“seriously, rúben. i don’t have a cute, small bump. ines and rebecca are always such sweet—”

“Y/N! have you SEEN the size of bernardo and phil next to me! is it any wonder they’re small! their child comes out the same size as them!” his hand shot out with passion.

now your head was in your hand with muffled laughter, caught off guard by his statement. “seriously! seriously, now you’re supposed to be the smart one,” he tried to look at you, that loving smile shining your way as his heart sang at the sound of you laughter. “you’re shocked that me, that we, have big babies . . that ines has a much smaller bump than you . . are you serious? that rebecca has a smaller bump than you? rebecca, phil and elway stacked on top of each other wouldn’t even reach the height of me!”

“rúben,” you laughed, feeling an actual blush of embarrassment coat your face at how stupid he’d made you feel, but in a good way.

he was so right. what were you thinking?

“i’m like, the biggest guy on the team! sorry i didn’t realise that was gonna be a problem for you,” you lightly hit his shoulder to wrap up the sarcasm, still giggling. he looked at you from the floor, his hands still on you, on your leg on bump — the bump that he did make look small next to his hand. “and please remember you’re a month away from giving birth, you’re supposed to be a healthy size. and i been going to training an hour earlier ‘cause i know when this one comes along, i’ll not want to go as much and i’ll want to stay with you both. i’ll start working on my dad bod . .” he felt the small, subtle movement happening inside, but he could feel them if he kept still enough.

“you’d look good with both.” you rolled your eyes.

“and you’d still look better. y/n, you’re not a whale. please stop saying that,” he finally crept to his feet, climbing on the couch on top of you, leaning his arm behind your head. “you are the most beautiful-est woman to me and no-one, NO-ONE can convince me otherwise. you’re my standard of perfect, of gorgeous and sexy and all the rest of it. i’ve found you sexy before this baby, during this baby, and after this baby — i still get comments of people telling me how ugly i look when you’re next to me! you bring my value down!”

his arm wrapped around your neck while the other threw itself over your bump, shifting and snuggling into the sofa more comfortingly, you relaxed alongside him, the tears no trickling down but with good reason behind them as you were shocked to find your love growing even more for rúben when you thought it was impossible. “i don’t know what comments you’re seeing because all i see are the ones calling you a milf, and it takes too much time to try and report them all.”

you held his hand at your shoulder, his lips kissing your cheek repeatedly, over and over again. you knew how much he loved you. “yeah, you’re right. fans are just . . assholes.”

“fans are assholes,” he agreed, stroking your cheekbone, “. . don’t listen to them. you think i listen to everything they say about me?” he perked a brow.

sometimes! you wanted to say but knew better. it was rhetorical question, and you knew his sweet intentions.

“alright? i don’t so why should you? you’re hot stuff babe,” he looked at the side of your face, inspecting every little freckle and faint scar, he just wanted to never stop kissing you. “i love you the way you are. eli loves you for the way you are, and this baby,” he rubbed circles on your belly, “he or she is going to be so unbelievably lucky when they see who they have as their mam. i know it’s not the smallest bump but i think it’s the cutest i’ve ever saw, with my baby girl or boy in there,” he kissed the size of your stomach. he grew more and more excited each day as he got a day closer to meeting who was inside. he couldn’t wait. “. . who they get their good looks from and skill and personality - well, i mean i would like to take some credit for the both of those ‘cause i mean their daddy is pretty c—”

you playfully jabbed his side, making him laugh. “yeah, he’s the hottest one on the field,” you glanced at him, kissing his cheek.

one thing about him, he’d always blessed you with beautiful children.

“yeah, and their mum is coolest one at the school pick up,” his lips trailed along your cheek to your jaw, the slight scruff of his beard tickling you. “you’re the biggest milf to walk the planet–”

“rúbennn,” you chuckled, blushing at his words whilst trying to push him away.

“i’m serious,” he proceeded, peppering kissed down your neck, “and she’s coming to paris with me for the weekend so she can outshine me like she does at every event she comes to.”

you laughed at that, smiling dreamily as he proceeding to love on you.

“and eli?”

“elias gets to stay with his favourite uncle who owes a favour,” he winked.

“hmm. ok.”

“and i’ll give her a reason to cry if she starts thinking like that again,” he whispered in your ear.

your heart slipped a beat. “oh yeah?”

“ohh yeahhh,” he nodded, standing to his feet, not before a loud ‘smack’ echoed the room as he mimicked what your poor backside would get if you kept up that kind of behaviour. “see you upstairs, mama.”

you blew your hair from your face, heart thumping, your hands slowly crept up to your adorable little bump where you caressed it gently as he headed for upstairs, whispering softly, “you are soo lucky he’s your papai.”

your heart raced as he peeled his hoodie off, back muscles staring right at you as he headed for your room, you felt your insides begin to sizzle.

— but you were even luckier he was your husband.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

The Return of Superman- Mark

(cw: f!reader called “mama”, a child duh)

Mark had spent a good few decades with a lot of his life documented on cameras. There were music videos, behind the scenes vlogs, cameras, talk shows, selfies, you name it- he did it. There was however, one area of his life that wasn't show or documented for the public. That was you, your marriage, and his son.

There had of course been the announcement on SM's end about Mark being in a relationship, then there was SM the announcement five years later about the two of you being married paired with a post from Mark with a wedding picture of the two of you where your face wasn't seen, and then the last announcement 3 years ago announcing the birth of his son.

Mark completely understood and agreed with your apprehension to show aspects of your life to the public, especially regarding your son. There was the occasional post with you and you can recall the uproar it caused across social media when Mark finally posted your full face on his public account. It was complete madness. People had managed to track down your place of work and even found other pictures of you from your friend's account. You had reason to be apprehensive regarding the privacy of you family.

However, as your son got older, you and Mark got more comfortable sharing more and more about your life, still being mindful of your privacy. So when Mark's managers called and mentioned his own episode on The Return of Superman, you had both discussed it and cautiously agreed with a few conditions. Conditions that were met with no argument since Mark was such a big celebrity to lock in.

--

Mark was sitting in the confessional, the familiar black curtain behind him as he introduced himself to the camera, "uh yeah, hi. My name is Mark Lee, I've been a member of NCT since 2016. My wife and I have been married for almost 9 years and our son is 3 years old."

He pauses as he listens to a producer as a question. He chuckles and shakes his head, "My son and I spend a lot of time together, but loves his mom. I try to take him out for some father and son bonding, but he cries for mom after an hour, when he play together he always involves her. It's great, I obviously love her too, but I think these few days the two of us will be kind of rough."

The scene cuts to the cameras panning over the space of yours and Mark's home as the commentators laugh and predict what they think will happen.

Mark is shown sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly before putting on his glasses and heading for his son's room. You had left the night before for a much needed girl's weekend with friends. You waited until your son was gone, peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses as he slept in his toddler bed before sneaking out of the room and bidding Mark goodbye with his own barrage of kisses and watery eyes. You knew Mark would be fine alone. He was a good dad and his confidence had skyrocketed once his son had grown out of the shaky steps phase.

"Wow, that is such a cool boy room!" One of the commentators marveled as the camera in Mark's son’s room showed the room covered in Spider-man. He had Spider-man sheets, blankets, wall stickers, toys, books- everything.

Mark smiled softly at the sight of his son sprawled across his little bed, still deeply asleep. Mark made his way to the kitchen and began making breakfast. He turned on the rice maker and began cracking eggs into the pan, watching tiredly as they turned from translucent to white.

One commentator cleared her throat, "this is interesting. Isn't it well-known that Mark can't cook eggs? I wonder if he's gotten better or his son likes them?"

The scene shows Mark and his son sitting at the dining table, his son blinking slowly and using both his hands to keep his head up. Mark laughs softly, scooping up a spoonful of rice and fried egg to feed his son. Usually, he'd be able to feed himself but this morning he's just too sleepy and Mark admittedly likes babying him. He is still a baby.

His son tiredly chews, his eyebrows furrowing and his face falling into one of confusion. He opens his eyes fully as he leans away from the next spoonful of food heading for him. "What's that?" his little voice asks as his finger points at the egg.

"It's eggs and rice, bub. Say ah," Mark instructs.

"Mama made it?" his son asks while turning his cheek away from the spoon.

"No, I made it," Mark replies, deciding to instead take the bite of food for himself.

His son scrunches his face up and takes the fried egg from his bowl and places it into Mark's, "yucky, Appa. No thank you!"

Mark tilts his head back with a roll of his eyes as the commentators laugh and compliment his son's good manners despite him calling the egg 'yucky.'

The scene cuts to Mark and his son standing in the entryway of your home, putting on their shoes. As Mark opens the door, his son freezes, "is Mama sick?"

Mark is hesitant to respond, "no, Mama isn't here. Remember it's going to be just me and you until tomorrow night?"

He can hear the familiar catch of his son's breath as he nervously looks up at Mark, "she's ok? She's coming tomorrow?"

Mark feels his heart melt, and the commentators all aww and coo over how cute the 3 year old is. Mark crouches down in front of him, picking him up and hosting him onto his hip, "of course she's coming back. Come on, we're going to go ride bikes at the park and get dinner with uncles later. Does that sound fun?"

His son sniffles and nods, "and ice cream?"

Mark laughs, "yes, and ice cream."

--

The camera crew follows Mark and his son around the park, watching as Mark teaches the boy to pedal and steer the bike. He eventually gets the hang of it and begins riding around on his own with a big smile. His little laughs and giggles fill the air as he zooms in every direction much faster than Mark or any of the cameramen expected, especially the cameraman tasked with following the boy around with his heavy camera.

It's all going well, no tears, no complaints, not even a mention of you, until the tricycle comes to an abrupt stop and turns when it gets too close to the edge of the grass. Mark sprints over the second he sees the tricycle teeter over and makes it to his son before the tears start.

He keeps calm as he looks his son over for any wounds, finding none and immediately being filled with relief. His son must have just gotten scared from the fall. Nonetheless Mark holds him close and rocks him as he cries into Mark's t-shirt.

"I want Mama," his son cries.

"I know buddy, I'm sorry. Does it hurt anywhere?"

His son continues to cry and shakes his head, his sobs turning into sniffles as he calms down. Mark pushes the hair away from his son's forehead and presses a long kiss to the sweaty skin, "you are being so brave, bub. I know it was scary, huh? I am so proud of you."

"And Mama too?" his son asks with watery eyes.

"Yes, and Mama too. You can tell her all about it when she comes home tomorrow. You can tell her that you heal fast like Spider-man."

His son perks up and his eyes brighten, "like Spider-man?"

Mark nods and stands, with his son in one arm and the tricycle in the other, "Oh yeah, big guy. Just like Spider-man, whenever he gets scared he keeps going, right?"

This sets his son off on his little tangent about Spider-man fighting the Green Goblin, then Doc Oc, and how he uses his webs and how the bad guy loses and Spider-man always wins.

The scene cuts to Mark in the confessional, "I really have enjoyed my time on the show, but I may be worse than my son. If you have me back, can she stay too? Please."

[beechicory]

Making this its own post:

Many drivers - and in fact the GPDA - were vehemently pro-halo, thank goodness!

Seb, for instance, who was one of the two GPDA driver reps for a freaking decade, spent years convincing the other drivers and the sport as a whole, and LOUDLY campaigned for it for literal years, and kept pushing the FIA to hurry the fuck up and introduce it.

Ironically one of the drivers he had to drag kicking and screaming was someone who became his GPDA co-director for a time , who hated the idea of the halo... Romain Grosjean. But eventually Grosjean was in the minority.

Jenson Button - who was also one of Seb's GPDA co-directors for a time - Nico Rosberg, Kimi Raikkonen, Fernando Alonso, and many other drivers were also loudly pro-halo for years. Lewis initially wasn't, but became convinced by a presentation from the FIA for the GPDA, that showed how much the halo would improve safety.

In fact, most drivers became convinced! Some still didn't like it, and some opinions fluctuated over time (especially as new drivers came in), but the overall majority were for it.

The GPDA actually started demanding better head protection in 2015:

In 2016, the GPDA sent a letter loudly supporting the halo:

You know who initially blocked it? BERNIE fucking ECCLESTONE, the absolute ghoul, and the 'F1 Strategy Group', who ignored the drivers' demands.

The GPDA was mad.

(Seb was also ringleader of a mutiny against Bernie in 2016, lol ❤️)

And they kept pushing, pushing, pushing for F1 to implement the freaking halo and listen to drivers' demands for safety. They encouraged the FIA to run around the strategy group and force it through on safety grounds. Which the FIA eventually did, bringing the halo in in 2018, after the majority of drivers - especially the GPDA, especially Sebastian Vettel and Alex Wurz - had been pushing for it for years.

Here's some fascinating further reading... look, I got really into the Seb-era history of the GPDA for a while:

Discusses the origin of the current era of the GPDA, with Seb approaching and recruiting Alex Wurz to come make the GPDA stronger, and to fight for more safety (warning: discusses the death of Jules Bianchi, though Seb was trying to recruit Alex just prior to that)

Something important to keep in mind: we aren't seeing everything they're doing.

That 2016 letter? It wasn't addressed to the public. It was addressed "Dear Jean" and "Dear Charlie".

Or in 2021, the weekend that Abbie Eaton was injured, when Seb threatened that the drivers *would not race* at COTA unless the sausage kerbs were removed? We didn't even KNOW about that until Abbie Eaton told us!

We aren't seeing all their fights, and all their strategy. I'm choosing to be hopeful.

[norrisreads]

illicit affairs #CL16 #MS47

PAIRING: charles leclerc x ex-gf reader! mick schumacher x reader!

SUMMARY: he was once the man you’ve always dreamed of, until one day a decision made drunkenly by him made you realised you were never the chosen one

WARNING: angst + cheating, fluff at the end

masterlists

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

2018

being in a relationship has it’s ups and downs, not everyday is full of smiles and laughters, some times it’s deadly silence just like the situation right now between you and charles

you were in a relationship with charles leclerc eversince 2016, you’ve seen him won the formula 2 championship, jumping to formula 1, you were there when he went through hard times, there were days you had to put him over yourself and you’ve never once regretted it.

But here you are, in a relationship that’s full of rocky roads. Charles and you met through his younger brother arthur, you were just a year older than Arthur, and the both of you used to hangout at the leclerc’s apartment daily as the both of you were and still has a close friendship. Arthur had given an advice to you in the early stages of dating with his brother, an advice you should’ve listen clearly.

“i’ll pack my things later, and i’m moving out tomorrow charles” the both of you is currently in the kitchen, you sitting down sipping on your warm honey lemon tea and him just munching down on the breakfast you’ve made for him

“i’m sorry, i swear i do not know what came on to me. she just happened to be there, i should have pushed her, cherie” you heard the metal fork cling as it came in contact with the marble counter top, you refused to believe the news that was trending everywhere

Formula One driver Charles Leclerc caught cheating on his fiancé, y/n l/n last night

When you were woken up by Arthur calls, you were confused of course until you clicked on the link that was send to you from Arthur. Ironically last night, you were on the call with him frantically worrying on Charles whereabouts, other than being woken up by Arthur’s morning calls, you were greeted by the sight of Charles sprawled out on the sofa in the living room.

All the times you were asking for signs if he was made for you, and even though the news did broke your heart, it showed the truth to you and made you realise that you wouldn’t want to spend your precious moments crying and fixing a relationship that is probably isn’t even worth it anymore.

“Sorry doesn’t fix the heartache i woke up to this morning, Charles. If this relationship isn’t worth the fight for you, you could have ask for a break and not cheat on me with someone else. That is so low of you, you knew how cheating affects me, you promised you will never do what he did and here you are proving me wrong”

“i know mon cherie, i am aware and i am so sorry. all i can do right now is to apologise to you, i am so sorry. i love you, i really do. you’ll always be the person my heart beats for cherie, please listen to me” you could hear Charles footsteps approaching you

“sometimes i wish you are able to see how much i sacrifice myself for you, when you were devastated from losing races, i would drop every single thing i was doing and run to you, calm you down.” you could feel tears running down your cheeks, reminiscing the memories the both of you have made together, from bad memories to good memories

“i supported you in every races no matter how exhausted i was, i would pray everyday that you wouldn’t crash and hurt yourself or blame yourself. I had to turn down job offers because i know that i am your number one support system, and i’ll always have to be there” his hand reached yours and tightly gripping it not letting you go

“but I’m exhausted Charles, I’m exhausted that i am always the one putting so much more effort in the relationship, i know you’re fighting for your dreams but what about mine? You’ve never asked about it, i know so much of you yet you know so little of me. I’m sorry Charles, if this happened a year ago, i would have accepted you back in my life but i’m not her anymore.” you let go of his hand, walking to the sink of the shared kitchen and washed the mug

Charles of course had nothing to say because he knew how badly he has been treating you, especially when whatever you’ve spilled your hearts out were accurate, he knew too little of you.

“where are you going to stay, will you be at Arthur’s ?”

“i will crash over at Arthur’s until i found a place, you shouldn’t be concerned where i am staying, be more concerned with Arthur, he’s fuming Charles. He’s your brother, fix the relationship”

with that, you walked to the shared room and started packing your items while Charles left the house to give you space.

what Charles doesn’t know is that you had been blessed with a gift, but for now that is just for you to know.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

2021

Just 2 and a half years ago, on the 14th of February 2019, your baby girl was born into the world. Of course, Arthur, Pascale and Lorenzo knew about the pregnancy and promised to keep it a secret from him.

When you left the house, you were 2 weeks pregnant, you managed to settle in to an apartment nearby Arthur’s apartment due to safety reasons. You were glad that you’ve rarely bumped into Charles, because as of now you’re unsure if you would wanna let Charles know of the child that the both of you shared.

Pascale would constantly come over to provide assistance and you were glad she was there for you even when you aren’t apart of the family anymore.

Just a year after you’ve left, Charles had gotten in-to a relationship, Arthur would always talk to you about how she wasn’t you and it’ll end with you lecturing him on how he should’ve been happy for his brother instead of hating his relationship.

“she’s not you, y/n. she’s just so different” Arthur shouted across the living room while entertaining your daughter, Valentiné Aurore Hervé Leclerc.

Your lovely 2 and a half years old babygirl, Valentiné Aurore Hervé Leclerc, is the greatest gift to you, she was your strength and the reason you are still in this world.

Of course, you did struggled being a single parent but the support you’ve received from your family, friends and his family was never-ending.

“don’t say that thur, i’m sure she’s great and just shy. he’s happy, let him be thur” you lightly hit the back of Arthur’s head

“look baby val, your mum just hit me on the head” all val did was laughed and continued playing with the toys Enzo had gifted, with the exact same eye-smile Charles had

“would you ever let Charles know about val?” Arthur asked, taking a seat beside you

“of course, i wouldn’t mind because val deserves to know his dad too” you smiled while looking at your baby-girl playing

“though i prefer Charles to just be an uncle, rather than a dad. Furthermore she loves the existence of him, sooner or later she’s gonna call him papa”

“I’m glad you’ve found someone that truly treasure you, he’s a great person though you have to seriously stop dating drivers.”

the both of you laughed, and as you were speaking about him, you heard the keypad of your house door being key-ed in and just a minute later the door of your house opened.

“miiiiiicckkkkkkkkyyy” val dropped her toys and ran to mick.

mick placed his items on the counter top and picked up val, “how’s my favourite girl doing?” while giving kisses to your baby-girl

mick walked towards you and Arthur, “ thanks thur for your help, you’ve been nothing but nice to us”

“it’s alright mick, though i’ll prefer you to be away so val will start loving me more” arthur joked knowing before mick came into val’s life, arthur was her favourite uncle

“hello baby, I dropped by the restaurant and bought the soup that you were craving for, i hope it’s still hot though” Mick gave you a forehead kiss while holding val on the other arm of his.

Thur picked up his bags and said his goodbyes.

you are currently dating Mick Schumacher, the relationship has been since end 2020, you’ve met him when you were working at your cafe and happened to serve him and he happened to take a liking towards you. Mick knew of Charles and you history and have assured you that he does not really mind and he truly appreciate both val and you.

When val turned two years old, mick had brought her to one of val’s biggest dream place ever as all other kids calls it, Disneyland and spend the whole day with her and you’ve could see the look on val’s face that only lights up when she’s around Mick and realised that this was the man that you would want to build up your future with.

Charles knew about your relationship, with the presence of you you standing beside mick supporting him during the races.

You weren’t always there for the races but since it was mick’s first few races, you wanted it to be special for the both of you. Val was sleeping over at your best friend for the day, inviting her would’ve caused a huge mess between the both of you especially with the first glance of your daughter, anyone could tell she is related to Charles Leclerc.

Of course it was a surprise to him, leading him to text Arthur right after the both of you had a 5 minute conversation together.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

2022 MONACO GP

“okay baby, stay by mama and don’t run anywhere else okay? papa is gonna be busy for a while and you’ll able to see him on this track” you were instructing val to not run away, val has turned out to be a daddy’s girl ever-since Mick came in-to her life, being away from Mick for a few days was torture to her(us), face-timing was the usuals for the three of us.

of course, hiding val on the way to the paddock was hard enough, you had to ask gina’s help which she did assist in and came by earlier than you and Mick in order to avoid the assumptions.

“but will papa see me here? will he wave at me and you, mama?”

you’re now carrying your daughter on your other arm, while she’s fidgeting with the lanyards around her neck.

“i’m not sure baby, papa’s car pass by super fast val. they’re faster than the cars we have at home,baby”

val nods her head and snuggled her head onto your neck, signalling that she was sleepy.

“baby, you sleepy? wanna head back to the room?” she agreed as she had spend her afternoon nap being awake following Mick around everywhere.

On the way to the haas paddock club, you were on your phone, single handedly texting gina if she could bring out the blankets that was in your bag as she was still at the club waiting for Mick’s team meeting to be done.

until you bumped on-to someone, and that someone just happened to be him.

just when you’re holding your daughter, what a great timing

“mama, why stop?” Val’s rubbing her eyes wondering and snuggling back on to your neck

“a moment baby, just get back to sleeping okay?” rubbing val’s back soothing her down to get her back to sleeping.

Charles was shocked yet confused on why you’re holding a child and the said child was calling you mama. Charles knew your relationship with Mick had just been ongoing for 3 years and he knew that the little girl that you were carrying is more than 3 years old, but what he didn’t know was that the little girl on your arm was his own daughter that he had no clue off.

“y/n, you’ve never told me you had a daughter?” charles stopped in his tracks and you could see behind him was arthur and lorenzo, with a shocked face.

“oh look charles, you’re late to your team meeting. Let’s go carlos is probably finding for you” enzo distracting him, but it was no help because he was still there staring at you and your daughter.

at this point you were looking at arthur for help but from the facial expression on arthur’s you knew he had zero plans to back you up.

“yeah haha it’s something i’ve kept private” you tried to walk away but he stopped you and take a look at val’s lanyard that was around her neck.

and one thing you didn’t realise was mick had given the staffs val’s full name to print out on her paddock pass, and that is when charles realised he has a daughter.

“valentiné aurore herve leclerc?”

oh yeah we are so fuck, by we it’s lorenzo, arthur and i.

you were looking at arthur and lorenzo with wide eyes.

“the both of you are aware of this?” charles turned to both of them and questioned the both of his brothers with disbelief

“it’s not their fault, i made them promised to not tell anyone”

“why didn’t you tell me? i am her father” at this point you could see people were curious on the conversation that was happening, because why would mick’s current girlfriend be seen having an intense conversation with Charles Leclerc?

“let’s talk later, she needs her nap. i’ll come over to arthur’s apartment and explain everything ” and charles knew that tone of your voice, the one where you would always use when you’re anxious or nervous and charles agreed on meeting you at arthur’s apartment

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

ARTHUR’S APARTMENT

Mick knew what had happened when you bumped you onto Charles, Mick wanted to accompany the both of you to Arthur’s apartment and be there for you while you explained things to Charles, and of course you agreed.

You knocked Arthur’s door, and you were greeted by pascale.

“i’m sorry darling, I tried but he was too persistent” she apologised to you, holding your hand giving you comfort

“it’s fine, it’s time i guess” you smiled at her

when you’ve reached Arthur’s living room you could feel the tension between the three brothers, you took a seat beside Arthur and Val automatically went to Arthur’s Lap.

Mick sat beside you, rubbing your back, calming down your nerves.

“val baby, come to papa. don’t bother uncle thur” mick called out to your daughter which she listened and walked over to Mick’s lap and mick carried her to arthur’s guest room which pascale followed behind.

Charles cleared his throat, “tell me from the start”

“when we broke off and i left, i found out I was 2 weeks pregnant”

“and you didn’t think of telling me?”

“it was hard Charles, i didn’t want you to stay with me just because i was carrying your daughter”

“continue” charles head in his hand, stressing over this situation

“i kept it of course as you can see, but please don’t blame it on lorenzo and arthur. i’ve made them swore they wouldn’t tell you, i didn’t wanna ruin your career. I was gonna tell you, just not now. I was thinking of telling you when val’s gonna understand the situation more. Mick knows about us and he was there for me for everything”

“I could’ve helped you, y/n. as a friend I could’ve helped you. she has my dna, she’s mine, i deserve to be in her life too, does she know?”

“she knows her father’s absence in her life, but she doesn’t know it’s you. we’ve never really talked about it”

“why the name? why did you used my last name, if you didn’t want me to be in her life y/n?”

“She’s apart of you, of course i had to include that and she looks exactly like you, no matter how much i refuse to believe’s she from you i had to accept it”

Charles walked over and sat beside you and held your hand.

“please let me be in her life. not as a father but as someone she deserves to know. i don’t mind Mick being her father, he deserves that title, but just let me be in my daughter’s life”

you agreed to charles, because as much as you disliked Charles, you didn’t want your daughter to grow up not knowing how does her biological dad looks like and starts questioning if she ever did something wrong.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

2023

Charles took the time to get to know val more, Mick and you would allow Charles over to let him have his own time with his daughter or they would sometimes have a day to their own.

Val knew who charles were but wasn’t really keen in calling him papa, as for the past few years Mick was more of a father figure to her rather than Charles.

As much as Charles was disappointed, he understood where she was coming from but he was glad Val had accepted him in her life not as a father but as some she would like to keep close contact with.

As for you, you’ve still kept the news of you having a child private, though there were rumours speculating around which you didn’t really pay attention to but you felt that it wasn’t a need for you to go public that you had a love child with their favourite driver.

Mick’s gotten signed to Mercedes and since he was a reserve driver, he would spend most of the time at the paddock with val and val has never been much more happier being close to her papa.

She would sometimes be in the Ferrari’s building or Mercedes’. Of course other than P, and the other driver’s children’s, val is currently the favourite especially amongst Charles and Mick’s circles of friends.

You were glad that the heavy weight on your shoulders was lifted off. Though, it took you a while to let Charles know about val, it’s all sorted out and you’re glad.

—✩࿐ end note: thanks for reading! wanted to end it off more angst less fluff but dad! mick just warms my heart, i’m still finding for good ig post templates or twitter templates! other than that, i hope you enjoyed reading! ♥️

[qqueenofhades]

"Radiant" is a perfect word to describe her. Gosh she's just fantastic.

I just.... am still FULLY in shock. At the start of July we were deep in the sordid depths of BidenDebateGate and the media feeding frenzy was fully underway and things looked bad. In the middle of July we had the Trump assassination attempt and the RNC and backstabbing Democrat stories every two minutes and things looked very, VERY bad. My mental health that week was a mess. I was terrified and could barely function and was seriously contemplating having to plan for the worst-case scenario.

And then. July 21. Biden drops out. 24 hours of terror, anger, and confusion, and then? AND THEN???

At the start of August (after the 6543 weeks of July) we were riding insanely high with the Kamalamentum, on August 6 she picked Walz and immediately launched a gangbusters battleground-state tour, here we are after a basically flawless convention that ran as if she was intended to be the nominee all along, and I just... wow. Thank absolute fuck that Biden decided not to listen to all the people who wanted the nightmare of an "open convention mini primary" and immediately endorsed Kamala. Thank fuck that everyone came in line right away. Thank fuck she picked Walz and the whole rollout has been beyond incredible. AND NOW???

After the soul-crushing trauma of 2016 and what looked like another generation of old white male Democratic presidential candidates before they would ever dare to try again, we have a brilliant and experienced woman of color as our presidential nominee. We could experience the absolute god tier karma of said woman of color both making incredible history and ending Donald Trump's entire career all at once. We just witnessed the four-day convention that was riveting and unmissable television. We are raising absolutely stupid insane amounts of money and volunteers and effort and... I just don't understand how this can happen in the Bad Timeline we have been living in, except to hope that if it is, we have somehow finally left it, or can leave it. God. Wouldn't that be nice.

People keep saying that we can't get complacent and we still have to vote, because we are all as noted still traumatized from 2016, but... quite honestly, I don't think that's the issue this time. People are raring at the fucking BIT to vote, in a way that I, who have spent 10+ largely bitter and thankless years on here telling people to vote, can't entirely believe. People want to do this. The younger among you have asked if this is what Obama felt like in 2008, and: Yes, but this is even more unbelievable. At least we could see him coming and had some context for it and watched him gain steam through the primaries, etc. But there was still considerable rancor and uncertainty around whether THIS GUY was going to be the nominee, and plenty of Democrats were pretty skeptical. They warmed up a bit as it went on, but things were still fairly neck and neck with McCain until the great economic crash. After that, Obama began to pull away and finally won in a crushing landslide.

By contrast, 2024 with Kamala is now the most united and excited I have seen the Democrats, EVER, and I have been voting for Democrats and paying attention to politics for almost 20 years. It's literally indescribable. Wow. That is all I can say. Wow, and of course, LET US FUCKING DO THIS. LET'S FUCKING GO. MADAM PRESIDENT. IT'S TIME.

[drtanner]

You know, I think I'm starting to understand why the sharing culture on this site is such dogshit now.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I spent several solid hours going through my art and writing tags as far back as 2012 and manually deleting everything I found, including all of my own reblogs, because I don't expect my opt out from having my blogs' data scraped to be honoured, and seeing the difference in the way people interacted with my work back then and the way they interact with it now (or the way they don't interact with it at all, more specifically) was deeply and tragically enlightening.

tl;dr, despite having had a fraction of the followers back then that I have now, as well as being an objectively better artist and writer than I used to be 10+ years ago, my work travelled further and people engaged with it more, and they also sent me asks with drabble prompts and questions about my OCs all the time, whereas none of that happens at all anymore. This place was a lot more communal back in that pre-2016 era and generally a lot more rewarding and fun.

There's been plenty of posts going around over the last few years begging people to reblog because that's how this site works, but every one of those posts always winds up lousy with people saying they just click "Like" on things because they like them but not enough to put them on their own blog, or because they don't want to clutter their blog, or because tagging things is too much effort or whatever, and I'm noticing a pattern. There's something that all of these common responses have in common:

All of these people are wholly concerned with themselves and the way their blog looks, or what their blog is supposed to be for, or some other similarly entirely self-centred point of focus.

Listen. Other people have already tried to explain to you that that's not what this place is about or what this place is for or that you can make as many sideblogs as you want if you're trying to curate something specific, and they've had little success in emparting understanding to you, so I'm going to try a different approach.

Here are ten (10) benefits of reblogging that will make this site more fun and engaging for you, personally! ( b ._.)b

You get to keep the thing for yourself, but you also get to pass it along for other people to play with, too! Best of all worlds. How often do you get to keep a thing and share it?

Look in your Activity after you reblog something you enjoy to find other people who like the same things that you do! This is a terrific way to find new people to follow.

Sometimes you'll make a comment when you reblog something and later find that an awful lot of strangers are reblogging it from you directly for some reason. This is usually because someone else later down the line made a much stupider and worse comment and those strangers are now all clicking on your reblog so that they can reblog the post without that other person's stupider and worse comment on it. I like it a lot when this happens. You can get a lot of new followers this way, too!

Even if you don't have the time or spoons to play with jpegs like dolls yourself, your reblog can put the post in front of those folks who do. Playing with jpegs like dolls is half of what makes this site function; give it a bit of time, and the jpegs will cross your dash again with new additions. As it is with anything you love, set it free, and the love will come back to you one hundredfold. 💜

Look in your Activity after reblogging some art or writing to see people going nuts in the tags. You can also go nuts in the tags if you want; everyone loves seeing this when it happens, especially the artist or writer themselves.

Commenting with your reblog is like raising your hand to share your opinion with the whole room, whereas reblogging with your comment in the tags is more like whispering to the person next to you and keeping it between yourselves. Contrary to what you might have been told by others, both are perfectly fine and good and they each have their place. You can do both on the same reblog, even! Take part in the conversation!

If you're too shy to talk, reblogging without commentary is a lot like parallel play. You're all enjoying the same thing quietly together!

When you reblog things a lot, you'll start to see the same people popping up in your Activity feed all the time. These people are your friends whether you actually talk to them or not.

Stuck for something to say? Point out something you liked about the post! It can be something small! Acknowledging things that make you happy out loud is good for your mental health and also your soul.

Reblogging also invites other people who are doing all of these things to find and follow you!

There's so much to do on here beyond checking your dash and occasionally looking at the For You tab. You can discover all kinds of people and things by making a bit of an effort and having a poke around in your Activity feed and on the blogs of people who interact with the posts you're seeing and passing along! I promise you don't need an algorithm to do this for you; the action of exploring the landscape around you on this website is fun in its own right!

Get out there and see who your neighbours are. 💜

[hotgirlssupportlando]

one day x lando norris pt 4

this is a part of my series following one day of every summer from 2016 onwards in y/n’s and lando's lives, exploring their friendship and love for one another. ofc not a smooth ride with some angst and fights along the way. a friends to lovers, growing up together kind of thing. read first part here pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary of this part: y/n attending lando's first home race in f1, but her expectations weren't really met warnings: kinda sad :( wc: 1,4k a/n: probably a couple of sad parts now in this series but bear with me!! a one day -series can't only be rainbows and butterflies hehe

summer of 2019

Silverstone Circuit, England

y/n was beyond excited getting her invite from lando to attend his first ever home race in f1. she couldn’t believ that the random boy she had met a few years ago now was one of the top twenty drivers in the world. seeing her best friend advancing in the sport truly made her proud, who would’ve thought he’d be going this far? since day one she had always supported her friend both on track and at distance, nowadays most through late night facetime calls as she was still in Edinburgh studying and Lando traveling all around the world. 

however, now after being months apart the pair would finally meet again and oh my, was she excited!! she couldn’t help but smile sitting in the taxi on her way to silverstone, headphones in listening to her and landos shared playlist. she fiddled with her mclaren paddock pass that already, proudly, was hanging around her neck, closely reading (for maybe the hundredth time) that all the personal information was correct, it would be just typical lan to spell something wrong and causing her trouble. as soon as the paddock pass had arrived in the mail at her uni dorm she had started planning her outfit, carefully picking out clothes and accessories that would perfectly match the colours on the pass. as the self-conscious being she was, she wanted to be prepared, not wanting to make a fool of herself or lando by turning up as a girl who didn’t look like she belonged there.  

now she was sat stroking her new white dress, contemplating whether it was too boring or too much, and what would lando think, would he like it? and why didn’t she take the other dress instead, it would have looked much better! her mind was racing, overthinking every little thing that came to mind and her worries quickly aggravated looking outside the cab window at all the beautifully looking fans that stood waiting outside the paddock hoping to see their favourite drive appear from one of the taxis. oh well, she thought, there’s nothing i can do about it now. she took a deep breath before exiting the car, shyly walking toward the entrance where she blipped her paddock pass and quickly rushed away headed towards the big mclaren sign in the distance. overwhelmed by the situation she just wanted to see lando, knowing that his presence would calm her nerves.

after some walking she finally arrived at the mclaren hospitality, almost immediately spotting jon, lando’s trainer. ”hi we’ve only seen each other through facetime but i’m y/n l/n, landos friend”, she said approaching jon. ”oh hello, i thought i recognized you from somewhere!” he smiled, ”you’re probably looking for lando?”. y/n nodded smilingly. jon looked around a bit worried, telling her that he should be here somewhere but that his schedule had been a bit hectic this race day morning. she was offered to wait in the hospitality while jon was gonna go tell lando that she had arrived. with a good mood she went and grabbed a tea, sitting at a table that overlooked mclaren’s part of the pit lane. 

after scrolling a bit on her phone and texting her friend, she saw in her periphery, more specifically in the garage, a familiar looking boy. he was giving some fangirls a tour around the garage, letting one and one test sit in his car. he looked so happy, being in his element. after a short while jon approached lando, and by his lips y/n could read something about her arrival. landos reaction was cute, he seemed excited that she was there but didn’t seem ready to come meet her just yet. y/n was just glad she had seen him at a distance and didn’t mind waiting for some time longer, she had already waited several months so what harm could another hour do?

if it only had been an hour or two or even three.. patiently she sat waiting, looking at the clock seeing it was nearly time for race preparations. nope, she thought, if she wanted to see him she would need to take it into her own hands, and that’s what she did. confidently she walked the same route she had seen jon take to the garage and after getting lost a couple times she found a visitor friendly spot. at the same place other high paying fans were stood looking at the team doing their pre race preparations. lando, as the kind boy he was, of course greeted the fans and let them take pictures with him. shortly after he spotted y/n who stood with a huge smile and open arms to greet him in an usual hug, but she wasn’t met by the same excitement. a rather cold and quick hug was what she got, from a boy that felt unexpectedly unfamiliar. a bit caught of guard by the reception and embarrassed by the amount of people that had seen this awkward encounter she felt like running far away. somehow she managed to still ask lando if their agreed meetup after the race was still on, to which she received a short ”yeah, sure”. 

stunned from the whole situation she went back up to the hospitality and watched the race in some kind of haze. wtf was that? she didn’t have to be here, lando was the one that invited her there, didn’t some good old kindness include in that package? presumably not then. her thoughts wandered, shocked that the boy she had known for years abruptly was someone totally else, just because they weren’t alone, the two of them, as they usually was. or was she overreacting? maybe it wasn’t that bad. or maybe this was her fault? she could’ve put a bit more makeup on and change the dress so that she would’ve been prettier, maybe that was the problem, that she wasn’t as pretty as the other girls in the paddock. 

in the middle of her overthinking someone patted her on the shoulder making her jump of fear out of her seat. ”sorry sorry sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you” a familiar voice half laughed, half tried to sound serious. she turned around meeting a pair of kind brown eyes, it was carlos sainz she remembered, lando’s teammate. ”are you waiting for someone?” he asked. y/n looked at the clock, it was late, somehow she had been thinking about her own problems so long that she hadn’t noticed that the race was done ages ago and that the other hospitality guests had gone home. ”oh yeah, i was waiting for lando, he’s my friend, but i guess he has forgotten about me.. again” y/n said not covering her disappointment very well. carlos smiled compassionately, like he understood, ”i’m sorry.. i remember when i was new to f1, everything’s so new and exciting that sometimes the one’s that has been with you from the start gets left behind..”. ”well, thats assuring” y/n laughed quietly as she felt her eyes tearing up. ”noo sorry, y/n was it? i didn’t mean to upset you, what i meant to say was that in the beginning you get kind of caught up in the fame and girls running after you, but when you settle in to the sport you sooner or later understand who the real one’s are” he said and gently hugged you afterwards. y/n sniffled after the hug ”well i hope so.. this wasn’t at all what i expected from this day” she sighed walking towards the door out of the hospitality. ”i’m certain he will come around, some new drivers take more time than others to realize that all the new attention is just empty and fake, nothing that can compare to a girl that waited the clock around to hopefully see her friend” he smiled trying to cheer y/n up. a small smile cracked on her face as she thanked him whilst they walked out of hospitality together. 

they didn’t have to walk very far before she heard lando’s familiar laugh, y/n turning around to spot lando in the distance, flirting with some very beautiful girls, noticing how he didn’t have a thought in the world about his old friend. she felt her heart sink and eyes tearing up again, was she really that forgettable? if anything, it only confirmed all her self-conscious thoughts. carlos that was walking beside her noticed the same as her and immediately connected his eyes with y/n’s, giving her a compassionate look while hugging her from the side. ”don’t you worry darling, remember my words”

_____

taglist

@amberpanda99 @phantomxoxo @landossainz @chezmardybum @lan4cha16 @tvdtw4ever @starlit-skiessss @dorothea47

[crag-dreams]

It’s the Saturday before Election Day 2024 here in the US, and stress/anxiety/fear/etc… is pretty high for a lot of people. That’s warranted, because another 4 years of Trump/GOP rule will harm so many people. You should do whatever you need to manage the next few days (including voting if you haven’t already), but I really want to encourage you to stop giving polls and “close race” media coverage much / any of your time or consideration.

Polling processes are wildly obsolete for how Millennial and Gen Z voters act compared to Gen X and Boomers (this is not a dig at these generations, just a factual observation). Polls are also easily manipulated to return a desired result, and the people running polls have a vested interest in getting your engagement. Keeping the results tight keeps eyeballs on them.

Similarly, the 24/7 media environment needs you constantly on edge and worried so you keep checking in and listening. They have no interest in a boring election or landslide victory. The majority of journalists have not risen to address this moment with the deliberate, in-depth reporting that we need. It’s far easier to throw together click-bait headlines to pump their numbers. It’s why they spend days covering the tiniest slip by Harris/Walz (and previously, Biden) while giving Trump/Vance a pass on every insane thing they say. Trump is *incredible* for news companies. He is so outrageous that their headlines write themselves, and as long as they don’t follow-up to truly report on him in a way that would end any other politician, they have unlimited content. Whatever you think about Biden, just remember: a single debate performance that wasn’t great was seized upon by the media (because it made for great engagement) and ended his candidacy. Trump can say the most batshit things (they’re eating the dogs!), and they minimize it at every opportunity, because he is good for them. They are sacrificing their journalistic integrity and responsibility at the expense of real people’s lives and rights.

So, what do we do if polls and most news coverage isn’t useful? Remember:

Trump lost the 2020 election. The Electoral College is the only reason it was even close. People were fed up then, and they are even more fed up now.

Roe was overturned by an activist Supreme Court that Trump is responsible for. In virtually every state-level election since then, the results have been outstandingly positive for Democrats, including in the Deep South™. This is why so many GOP politicians have stopped talking about abortion, even going so far as to remove their position from their websites, or directly contradicting themselves when asked about it. The only person making a decision about a woman’s body should be that woman, and these predominantly white dudes still don’t realize how badly they fucked up.

The majority of Trump’s former Cabinet and senior leadership have very publicly turned on him. While it would have been nice for them to do this earlier, it’s unprecedented to see so many prominent Republicans declare they will not vote for him. This doesn’t impact the hardcore MAGA crowd, but it absolutely speaks to more centrist Republican voters.

Trump has been convicted of sexual assault, and he is an adjudicated rapist. He’s been convicted of 34 felony indictments, with more to potentially come. Even though it seems like he never suffers consequences for these legal issues, it costs him voters. People who could justify supporting him before are finally reaching a limit, even if they don’t publicly admit it. (Some do!)

Also, more and more people who voted for Trump in 2016 and 2020 are willing to publicly admit they are tired of him and can’t do it again. His rallies are smaller and smaller, the crowds are less engaged, and, yes, people leave during his rambling rants more and more often.

Gen Z is getting to vote for the first time at any real scale. Say what you will about TikTok and other platforms, but they are more informed and showing up and caring about issues that didn’t move the needle for Gen X or Boomers. Remember the Access Hollywood, grab ‘em by the pussy, tape? That should have ended his original campaign, but it didn’t. Gen Z has found out about that, and it’s just one of so many things driving them to get out and vote. The turnout is going to be incredible.

Because we still use the stupid Electoral College, this election largely comes down to swing states. The Trump campaign has done almost everything imaginable to lose those voters. Whether it’s bashing unions (Trump said a child could do the same job as automotive workers building cars, he bragged about not paying overtime, etc…), immigrants (they’re eating the dogs, GOP-led states demonizing them), Puerto Ricans (calling their home a floating pile of garbage, Trump denying hurricane relief for almost two years), or women (abortion, telling women they should vote how their husband wants them to, Vance thinking their purpose is nothing more than baby-making, stay-home, wait-on-a-man’s every need), they are losing the swing states.

Elections are *incredibly secure and trustworthy.* The Trump/GOP camp has attacked this at every opportunity with virtually no success. The few instances of voter fraud we’ve seen in the last few years are almost entirely from Republicans. They have already started the narrative that the election is rigged if Trump loses. This narrative will only increase as results start to roll in on Tuesday. Don’t even worry about it. They will lose every / almost every single lawsuit they try to bring. It will have no impact on the eventual outcome.

Early voting, including absentee and mail-in ballots, turnout is incredibly encouraging. The higher the turnout, the better, and people are showing up. There’s fatigue and embarrassment on the GOP side (you’re gonna eventually hear from those voters that they stayed home, voted for Harris, etc…), and there’s excitement and motivation on the Dem side.

Are there reasons to be worried? Of course. The Trump campaign is going to try and obstruct the voting process in every way they can. They’re blocking poll monitors in Texas and Florida. Drop boxes in some states have been attacked. Voter rolls have been illegally purged. They’re bringing lawsuits (most of which they’ve already lost) even before Election Day. They’re going to claim fraud. They’ll probably incite violence again.

These are the actions of a desperate campaign that isn’t trying to actually win, because they know they’ve already lost.

So, we can acknowledge our stress, anxiety, and fear, but we don’t have to let it ruin the next few days. Get outside and enjoy (hopefully) beautiful Fall weather. Snuggle your pets. Listen to your favorite albums. Read a great book. Hang out with your people. Vote.

We’re a few days away from a massive weight being lifted from our shoulders. Don’t let it weigh you down until then.