#this better be true or i’m going to be crying

[astars-things]

for the lando au, can we get an insta au where y/n posts a bunch of pictures to prove that they are still together because there are rumors they broke up and that lando is seeing someone else. thank you!

*I don't own any of these photos they are from Pinterest

Liked by @.PitStopQueen and others

@.F1.Tea LANDO NORRIS SINGLE, Hear it here first: Lando Norris is single, rumors have been going that Lando Norris and his long-time girlfriend Y/n Hughes have broken up, sources say they saw him getting handsy with another girl in Monaco

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@.PitStopQueen Y/N and Lando breaking up? This feels unreal… I’m actually so sad about this.

@.F1hasmyheart He’s single now?!? Omg, dreams do come true

@.Landofan OMG Lando is finally single? 👀👀 manifesting my shot

@.User2 Y/N and Lando breaking up feels like my parents divorcing. 🥲

→@.user no same because I'm sitting here crying hoping its a prank

Liked by @.jackhughes @.Landonorris and others

@.Y/n_hughes they could never tear us apart

tagged @.Landonorris

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@.f1fangirl101 Ugh, I wish the breakup rumors were true. Lando deserves better.

@.hockeygirl23 She’s not even that great. Lando deserves better.

→@.jackhughes If you’re going to be disrespectful, don’t follow my sister. Simple as that

@.teambreakup: Sometimes rumors should stay real. Sorry, not sorry.

@.trevorzegras Love you both, Y/N and Lando.

@.Y/n&landoship Yesss! My favorite couple is still going strong. ❤️

*liked by @.Y/n_hughes @.Landonorris

@.norrisnation: Finally, the confirmation we needed! Lando and Y/N are the power couple we deserve. 💪🏎️

*liked by @.Y/n_hughes @.Landonorris

@.saltyanonymous Bet this was just damage control. We all know it’s not real

liked by @.f1andhockeylove @.McLaren and others

@.Landonorris To my dearest @.Y/n_hughes, I love you so much, thank you for supporting me, I will go to the moon and back for you just to see your beautiful smile, there is no other girl for me, you're beyond perfect. To anyone who sends her hate, consider this your warning, if you keep sending hate, I will block you

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@.puckfan101 Haters just can’t handle how perfect you two are. Don’t let them get to you.

@.Quinnhughes Appreciate you standing up for my sister. We’ve got her back, too.

@.f1andhockeylove Protecting your girl like the king you are 👑. We stan Lando and Y/N forever!

@.McLaren Lando is an icon, he's a legend and he is the moment

→@.jackhughes y/n get off the McLaren account

→@.Y/n_hughes I don't know what you're talking about

@.lhughes_06 This is cute but also gross

@.Y/n_hughes Lando, I will forever and always love you

[wolvietxt]

𝓯orever and 𝓪lways.

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : light angst, crying, fluff, overall chaos, insecurities, hurt / comfort summary : it was finally you and logan’s wedding day, with the pressure mounting and wade’s constant input, you were finding it hard to not let your insecurities get the better of you. wc : 1.3k

it started chaotic, of course. you’d expected nothing less with wade as logan’s best man. he’d been milling around the bridal suite for the past half hour, offering unsolicited advice and increasingly absurd ideas for how to make your grand entrance memorable. currently, he was debating the merits of pyrotechnics versus smoke bombs.

logan must’ve been losing his mind in the groom’s suite, but you hadn’t seen him since the morning. something about tradition, he’d said with a lopsided grin, his hand brushing your cheek. you hadn’t even responded, just kissed him back with the kind of desperation that left your chest aching after he left.

now, though, the reality of what you were about to do started to sink in. a low, rolling wave of panic settled in your stomach, twisting and tightening with every passing second. the dress suddenly felt too tight, the room too warm, and your pulse too fast. you were getting married. to logan. it wasn’t that you didn’t love him - you did, fiercely, wholly - but the weight of forever pressed against your ribs.

“i think i’m gonna be sick,” you muttered, bracing yourself against the vanity. your reflection stared back at you, wide-eyed and pale.

wade, for once, didn’t crack a joke. his brow furrowed as he stepped closer. “oh, no. cold feet? or, like, bad shrimp in the hors d'oeuvres kind of sick? because i warned logan about those caterers - ”

“wade, please not now,” you whined, more harshly than you intended. you took a shaky breath, trying to ground yourself. “i just… what if i’m not enough for him? what if i ruin this?”

he blinked at you, then broke into a wide grin. “not enough? are you kidding me? have you met logan? that guy would crawl through broken glass for you. wait, no, bad example - he’d heal - but you get my point. he’s crazy about you.”

you looked down at your hands, the diamond on your finger catching the light. wade’s words rang true, but your anxiety wasn’t so easily quelled. “what if i can’t live up to everything he deserves?”

“listen,” wade said, surprisingly gentle, “logan’s no saint. he’s rough around the edges, grumpy as hell, and has a tendency to scare small children with his ‘resting murder face.’ but he loves you, and he’s lucky to have you. trust me.”

you swallowed hard, your heart thudding unevenly. “i just… i don’t want to let him down. i’m really scared, wade.”

before wade could respond, there was a sharp knock on the door. it creaked open slightly, and a familiar voice rumbled, “everything okay in there?”

logan.

your heart jumped, but you didn’t answer immediately. wade, ever the opportunist, took the chance to dart to the door, opening it just wide enough to slip through. “hey, bud. she’s fine. just a little pre-wedding jitters. totally normal. nothing to worry about.”

“wade, move.” logan’s voice was firm, and a second later, he pushed past the mercenary. his eyes landed on you instantly, dark with concern. “you alright, darlin’?”

you wanted to lie, to brush it off and plaster on a smile, but the worry etched into his face undid you. “i don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “i just… i feel like i’m going to mess this up.”

logan stepped closer, his hands finding yours. his touch was warm and steady, grounding you in a way nothing else could. “mess what up?”

“everything,” you whispered. “us. you deserve someone who’s… i don’t know. better.”

he frowned, his grip tightening. “don’t say that. you think i’d be standin’ here, about to marry you, if i didn’t know exactly what i was gettin’? i don’t need perfect, sweetheart. i just need you.”

his words hit you like a freight train, and tears pricked at your eyes. “but what if - ”

“no what-ifs,” he interrupted gently. “you’re it for me. always have been, always will be.”

your chest ached with the weight of his sincerity. you reached up, cupping his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, his stubble rough against your palm. “are you sure about this?”

logan huffed a soft laugh, his lips curving into a small, crooked smile. “damn right i am.”

behind him, wade cleared his throat obnoxiously. “as touching as this is, we’re on a schedule, lovebirds. chop-chop.”

logan shot him a glare but didn’t let go of your hands. “you ready?” he asked, his voice low, meant just for you.

you nodded, the last of your nerves dissolving under the warmth of his gaze. “yeah. i’m ready.”

the ceremony went off without a hitch - mostly. wade’s toast was predictably chaotic, filled with inappropriate jokes and just enough genuine sentiment to make you and logan laugh. the vows, though, were what stayed with you. logan’s voice had been steady but rough with emotion, his words simple yet profound. he’d promised to be by your side, to fight for you, to love you with everything he had. you’d barely managed to get through your own vows without crying, your voice trembling as you told him he was your home, your heart, your everything.

later, as the night wound down and the guests filtered out, you found yourselves alone under the soft glow of the string lights. the reception had been beautiful, but this moment - just the two of you - felt perfect.

logan pulled you close, his hands resting on your hips as you swayed together. “you know,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple, “i was nervous too.”

you looked up at him, surprised. “you were?”

“yeah.” his lips twitched into a faint smile. “not about marryin’ you, though. that was the easy part. just wanted to make sure it was everything you wanted.”

your heart squeezed at his words. “it was perfect, logan. you were perfect.”

he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips. it was slow and sweet, filled with all the love he couldn’t quite put into words. when he pulled back, his eyes were soft, a rare vulnerability shining through.

“i love you,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “more than anything.”

tears welled in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of happiness. “i love you too.”

logan smirked, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. “good. ‘cause you know you’re stuck with me now.”

you laughed, resting your head against his chest as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

ᰔ logan howlett : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen, @tezooks

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @urlocallocachica, @person-005, @nestavadavat

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2, @lokixryss, @mehjustalasshere, @spktrlvr

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[holylulusworld]

Gap Filler (3)

Summary: Lack of communication leads to fallout.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, Walter being a douche, break-up, mentions of break-ups, amends, angry reader, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of calling someone daddy (nothing happens)

A/N: A short drabble to the miniseries.

Gap Filler (2)

“Baby? Y/N? Please open the door. The cactus is an aggressive beast. It tries to poke holes into my chest. The orchid, well, it won’t make it if it stays with me. You know I’m not good with soft things.”

Walter listens closely, hoping you’ll open the door and let him explain things to you.

“Go away,” you growl on the other side of the door. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!”

He sighs deeply. “Y/N, I know I fucked up big time, but please believe me, I love you. Rachel doesn’t mean anything to me. I lied to hurt you.” He sniffs. “I know it was stupid and selfish of me. It’s just… a woman left me for a job before.”

“Do not use your broken heart crap to excuse that you broke my heart!” You kick the door and curse his name. “Now get off my lawn.”

Walter chuckles. “Uh—your doormat is green, but I don’t think it counts as a lawn.” He comments as you throw insults at him. “Please open the door,” Walter whispers now. “Your neighbor is about to call the cops.”

“You’re a cop too,” you bite back. “Get your badge out and tell them to get fucked! "Annoying assholes!”

“Baby, open the door,” he murmurs your name, pleading with you to let him in. “Do not make me raise my voice.”

You snort. “As if you’d dare to raise your voice, Marshall. I’d love to see you try, fucker!”

“Stop swearing so much in front of our baby!” He tuts. “I can still kick the door open.”

“I don’t think so,” you snort. “It’s a reinforced door. Good luck breaking your back, old man!”

“Old man?” Walter hiccups. “Last time, you called me daddy because of the gray in my beard.”

“Marshall!” You rip the door open to size Walter up. “What are you talking about? That’s not true. I’d never call you that.” Wrinkling your nose, you huff. “That’s just ewww…”

He smirks as you realize your mistake. “Hah, it worked.” Before you can close the door, he stands in the door frame, keeping you from shutting the door again. “Y/N, please talk to me. I won’t go away, and it’s your fault if the poor plants die.”

You glance at the cactus pressed to his chest and the poor orchid he’s about to strangle. “Fine, give me the plants, but you can go home.”

Snatching the orchid out of his hands, you keep an eye on Walter.

“Baby, please let’s talk. I don’t want to go home knowing I lost you forever only because I was a fool,” he murmurs your pet name and gives you puppy dog eyes.

“No, this won’t work on me any longer. You hurt me to feel better.” You angrily wipe your eyes. “You told me you want to be with Rachel because you knew this is my worst fear coming true. How could I ever trust you again, or believe that you love me, Walter?

Walter drops his head and nods. “I used your fear against you. This is unforgivable.” He feels like the worst person ever as you look at him with teary eyes. “I let my hurt pride and feelings get the best out of me.”

“That’s no excuse for abandoning and hurting me. I admitted years ago that I’m scared of losing you to Rachel if she ever comes back. And you,” you growl at him, “used it against me.”

He nods slowly. “I knew the moment your luck was more important to me than mine that I was in love with you. When I got to know that they offered a better position to you, my worst fear came true. I couldn’t bear hearing you say that you will leave me.”

“Even if I’d have considered taking the position—” you sniffle. “Do you honestly believe I would have left you? I would have asked you to come with me, if possible. If not, I’d declined their offer.”

Walter stares at you, eyes filled with unshed tears. You have never seen him cry before. Not in all the years you know him.

“Fine, close the door and give me that cactus before you kill it for real…”

Tags in reblog.

[enemiestolovershoe]

Warmth and Care

Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Noah takes care of reader while she‘s on her period

Words: 885

Warnings: Period and Cramps

A/N: Another version of this was requested but I felt like writing a second version just with Noah and Reader. But click here to read the other Version.

The soft glow of the morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. Normally, you loved mornings like this—warm, serene, and quiet. But today was different. You lay curled up on your side, buried beneath a pile of blankets, clutching your stomach as a familiar, dull ache radiated from your abdomen. You groaned softly, shifting to try and find a position that didn’t make you want to cry.

You heard the faint rustling of movement outside the bedroom door, followed by the quiet click of it opening. “Babe?” Noah’s voice, warm and slightly raspy from sleep, reached you. You didn’t look up, too focused on managing the pain in your belly.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, though the tremor in your voice gave you away.

Noah crossed the room quickly, his bare feet silent on the carpet. He perched on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes filled with concern as they scanned your face. “What’s going on?” he asked softly, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“Cramps,” you admitted weakly, closing your eyes. “It’s no big deal.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You look miserable,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “What can I do? Do you need medicine? A heating pad? Food?”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you couldn’t help but smile faintly at the sight of him. His hair was a mess of soft waves, his hoodie slightly rumpled, and his brow furrowed in concern. “I just need to rest,” you murmured. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to fuss over me.”

Noah didn’t move, his hand still gently stroking your hair. “Fussing is kind of my thing, you know,” he said with a small smile. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you could protest, he was up and out of the room. You heard the faint sounds of him moving around in the kitchen—cabinet doors opening and closing, the clink of mugs, the hum of the microwave. Curiosity tugged at you, but the effort to move felt like too much.

A few minutes later, Noah returned, balancing a tray in his hands. “Room service,” he announced softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table.

“What’s all this?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Tea,” he said, handing you a steaming mug of chamomile. “I added honey because I think that’s supposed to help with cramps or something. And I brought you some toast in case you’re hungry.”

Your heart swelled at the gesture. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you said, taking a careful sip of the tea.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply. “If you’re hurting, I’m not just gonna sit here and do nothing.”

As you sipped your tea, Noah held up a heating pad he’d unearthed from the bathroom. “Want me to heat this up for you?”

“Yes, please,” you said gratefully.

While he handled the heating pad, he kept glancing back at you. “Do you want to watch something? I can set up Netflix. Or we could do one of those mindless true crime shows you like.”

You chuckled, touched by his willingness to cater to your every whim. “I’m good with whatever,” you said, your voice still soft but more relaxed now.

When he returned, the heating pad was warm and ready. Noah carefully tucked it under the blanket, adjusting it until it was snug against your stomach. “Better?” he asked, sitting beside you.

“Much better,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and grabbed the remote. “Okay, rom-com or murder mystery?”

“Rom-com,” you said with a grin. “But you hate those.”

“I’ll survive,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Besides, I’m here to make you feel better, not myself.”

The next hour passed in cozy bliss. Noah sat beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders, occasionally making sarcastic comments about the movie’s cheesy plotline. You laughed weakly at his remarks, grateful for the distraction from the lingering cramps.

At some point, Noah got up and returned with more snacks and a bottle of water. He handed them to you without a word, sitting back down and pulling you close again. His hand found its way to your back, rubbing soothing circles as the movie played on.

When the credits finally rolled, you turned to him, your heart full. “Thank you,” you murmured, looking up at him.

“For what?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“For taking care of me. For making me laugh. For being the best boyfriend ever,” you said, your voice warm with sincerity.

Noah smiled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Always,” he said softly. “You’d do the same for me.”

He stretched out beside you, pulling you into his arms so you were nestled against his chest. His steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body eased the tension that had been gripping you all morning. As his fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, you felt the pain and discomfort melting away, replaced by the overwhelming comfort of being loved.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think that no matter how bad the cramps got, you’d always have Noah to make it better.

Taglist: @courta13

[mseden-fries]

Lemme just say, right off the bat, that your art is so freaking amazing.

I was in the Hey, Arnold! fandom eons ago, (in the 90s), and used to write fics for it. (I was Carrot Top at the time.) I loved loved loved Helga, and she has always been in my top 5 favorite cartoon characters of all time.

You write them so well, and I've been having such a good time going through your blog and checking out the comic.

Super, super well done. Thank you for sharing!

Gah! Ur gonna make me cry 🥹 I actually didn’t become a fan until I was around 10 years old myself and although I did like art, I wasn’t sure what kind of art I wanted to pursue in the future. It wasn’t until I watched the hey Arnold movie, the first one, that I knew what I wanted to do which was to create comics. I actually remember never watching an episode just watching the movie over and over and over and not even realizing that there was a show for it 😅 but then we were pretty poor and actually our house just burned down so we were staying in a church house until we found a new place to live and they had a lot of VCR’s that we could watch including a bright orange nickelodeon VCR titled the Hey Arnold movie.

I remember joining the fan group on Facebook that was called the Hey Arnold save the jungle movie and being a part of the fan base when the movie finally got made and just being super excited about it like it was a dream come true ❤️ I can say with complete certainty that the reason I pursue making comics now is all because of hey Arnold, it is my first love and I’m having fun making this comic and I’m glad that people actually enjoy reading it too! I started making this years after the hype died down, but there was still a lot that I felt was left unsaid in the jungle movie that as a fan, I wanted to explore not to take away from the original, but I just needed more

And that’s why I’m doing this, also to improve myself

Sorry, that was probably not the question you asked, but I feel like I had to get that out lol! When things were tough growing up, I could pop in that orange VCR tape and feel a little better about everything  



[msmk11]

Not Worth Your Tears

Harry Potter x gn!reader

WC: 843

CW: allusions to people being bitchy and judgy

Summary: Afternoon plans with people you know don’t go according to plan, leaving you upset. Good thing you have a lovely boyfriend to comfort you.

A/n: definitely not based on true events (except I don’t have a harry to comfort me)

The door shuts with a thud, the decisively unpleasant noise the perfect ambience for your current mood. You slide off your shoes and kick them into the growing messy pile- one you and Harry swear you’ll clean up but never do. You hang your keys on the hook and let your bag slump off your shoulder. You feel terrible, a heavy heart weighing down your chest, but don’t want to let your sweet boyfriend see. He’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the perfect picture of comfort in one of his favorite hoodies and matching sweatpants. The rugby game plays from the tv and Harry is watching it intently. At the sound of your footsteps into the kitchen, however, his gaze instantly falls to you.

“Hi baby! How was lunch?” he asks sweetly.

Maybe you’re just imagining it, but he sounds extra hopeful and positive today. You know he’s excited to hear about your lunch. Though you suppose he’s always excited to listen to whatever you have to say. It breaks your heart, then, that you don’t have good, exciting things to share.

“It was good,” you say, refilling your water bottle in the kitchen. Your voice is tighter than you like and you cringe.

“Everything okay?”

You should’ve known he’d clock you instantly. No matter how hard you try, you cannot hide your feelings from Harry. So you don’t bother. As soon as you turn around and see the comforting, loving face of your boyfriend a sob escapes you. His pretty features morph from mild concern to distress, and he bolts up from his seat pulling you into his arms.

You wrap your own around him tightly, shaking in his hold and crying aggressively. Harry runs a hand up and down your back soothingly.

“Did something happen at lunch?”

“Mhmm-“ you hum, nodding your head.

Your boyfriend guides you to the couch to sit down, his comforting embrace never weakening despite the movement. His green eyes gaze into yours tenderly, “wanna tell me about it?”

You take a shuddering breath and only get out a syllable before you choke on another sob.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Take your time baby. And try and take some deep breaths for me.”

Harry makes soothing circles on your lower back as you cling to him tight. His steady breathing and faint cologne calms you a little and you’re able to take a deep breath.

He kisses your hairline, “good job, sweetheart.”

“I-it’s just. I felt so out of place today,” you confess, “like I didn’t belong.”

Harry’s heart shatters into a million pieces and his hold on you tightens, “did someone say something? Or do something?”

You sniffle as a few stray tears continue to make tracks down your face, “not exactly. It’s just. They-“

You hiccup.

Your boyfriend presses another tender kiss to your hairline encouragingly.

“It was just so obvious that they- that they thought they were so much better than me. They- they’d speak to me but it was like they were…. talking down to me.”

Harry’s jaw ticks in anger but he keeps it to himself, instead focusing on you, “I’m sorry that happened, baby. People are just plain arrogant and mean sometimes.” He kisses your head once more as he traces patterns into your arm, “but you know it’s not true, right? That they’re better than you. Because they’re not. In fact, you’re ten times better than they could ever be.”

“I- I know they’re not better than me. It’s just,” you look down at your lap, “it’s really dehumanizing, to be seen as less than because of some absence of an ‘it’ factor, or wealth or something.”

Fingers brush against your jaw and your chin is raised so that you’re looking Harry in his eyes again, “sweetheart, I know. I get it. The Dursleys were like that too. It really sucks, and kills your confidence. But just remember they’re not worth these tears baby.”

He places a kiss to your forehead, “you’re so pretty,” a kiss to the tip of your nose, “and smart,” a kiss to your cheek, “and kind,” then the other cheek, “and witty,” and a kiss to your lips, “and the best girl I know.”

You’re a flustered mess by this point and it makes Harry smirk in spite of the emotional situation.

“I think you’re obligated to say those things,” you murmur, playing with his free hand.

“Only my heart obligates me to say it,” your boyfriend answers thoughtfully, “it bursts with so much love for you that I can’t help but say all the wonderful things I love about you.”

You look at Harry fondly, eyes trailing over his dark skin, sharp jawline, and lovely emerald eyes that hold so much love for you. You kiss his cheek gratefully and lovingly.

“You feeling any better?” He asks softly, cupping your face.

“A little,“ you answer with a shrug.

He leans closer, lips inches from yours, “then let me help you, baby. Let me help you feel better and forget those silly people.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Ask and ye shall receive 😝

You actually have perfect timing though because I just thought of some new themes and was going to send in more asks soon! So first we have the stories where Chris is Going Through It™️ (to very different degrees across the stories but still). In order of severity of his struggles:

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲 (LOVING THIS ONE SO HAPPY ITS BEING PUBLISHED!! I’ve been following along the snippets the whole time but it’s so fun to read it all through and see all the parts I missed. And that last part where Eddie finally got to Chris and he’s so out of it!! So engaging I can’t wait to see the full picture of what’s happening!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (covids getting to him :( poor kid! All three of his parents are going to help him get through it together! Also covid means we’re approaching Buckley parents’ visit territory! I’m pumped for the angst!)

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩 (oh boy the probie better not screw up the florist visit! I’m definitely worried it’s gonna go wrong! And I really want to know what Buck’s surprise is!!! This story is so adorable and sweet and funny and I’m really loving it!)

- PCA <3

THIS WORKED GREAT FOR US!

Great theme. So true. Why am I hurting him?

117 for 🌲 (THANK YOU! So glad you're enjoying it!)

---

“I have,” Adriana says. “And, wait… Eddie, you’ve killed people, too. Right?”

Eddie frowns at her. “Yes. In Afghanistan.”

“See, Mom? Eddie and I have killed. Sophia puts things down for a living.”

“Well, I do more than that,” Sophia grumbles. 

“We’ve got a sort of grit I just don’t think you have,” Adriana says. 

Eddie swallows anxiously. He’s not sure challenging her to a game of chicken is the route he’d take. But he got them this far. Maybe it’s time to pass the baton. 

“See, I don’t think any of this was thought out ahead of time,” Adriana says. “And I get that. Hell, do I ever. You’re not playing chess here, Mom. You’re just surviving. Trying to hold your little delusion together. Every decision you make is out of desperation.”

Eddie waits for Helena to reach across the table and strike her. It doesn’t happen. 

“So do it, Mom,” Adriana says. “Let him go or kill him. I don’t think you’ve really thought through what will happen if you choose the latter.”

Their mother locks her jaw. Her eyes flicker between Adriana and Ramon. There’s an incredibly tense moment where Eddie has no idea how this will go. And then enough moments pass, and he realizes Adriana is right. If Helena was serious about murdering their dad, she would have already. She’s right - it’s all been an act to hold her flimsy life together. 

“Three…” Adriana says. “Two…”

Helena opens her mouth, as if she’s about to command Ramon to do it. To stab himself. Sophia flinches. Eddie holds his breath. His mother’s mouth snaps shut. 

“One,” Adriana finishes. 

Helena exhales, defeated.

Adriana turns to their father. “Dad, you can let go of the knife now. You don’t have to listen to her, remember? You can think for yourself.”

Helena starts to cry.

Ramon inhales heavily. His eyes flicker around, conflicted. 

“It’s okay, Dad,” Adriana says. “You can let go.”

Like he’s been resuscitated, Ramon gasps and drops the knife. He stands and takes a few frantic steps backward, bumping into a cabinet and nearly knocking over some crystalware. He looks terrified. He looks small, in a way.

“What’s happening?” He demands. “Helena, what did you do?” 

Eddie looks between them both. His parents. He spent so many years afraid of them. His father especially, but his mother as well. Afraid of their judgement. Their lectures. Their hands. Their punitive attitudes towards his decisions. Their willingness to rip his son from him. And now he’s looking at them and he’s just… Unafraid. Saddened. This is pathetic. This is all so damn pathetic. 

And something in Eddie’s chest just kind of unlocks. Like a stiff joint cracking. 

“Mom,” Eddie says. “Tell him what you did.”

“No, no,” Helena begs. “Please. This doesn’t have to-”

“Tell him!” Eddie snaps. “Tell him what we are.”

Ramon looks at Eddie. Then he turns to Adriana. And the look on his face is one of pure horror. Rejection. 

Well. 

That’s okay. 

Eddie thinks he wants to reject this circus first. 

🍂

“Okay,” Buck says, putting in the address to the nearest motel in his phone map. “Repeat the plan.”

“We go to the motel. We sleep a few hours. You order me a bunch of pizza and drinks before you leave. You go get Dad, and I don’t open the door for anybody unless I physically see him.”

“Right,” Buck confirms as he pulls out of the parking lot. “I’ll leave you with Bobby and Maddie’s phone numbers. If there’s an emergency, either of them would come for you. Or-or they’d send Chimney.”

“Okay.”

“I hate even thinking about leaving you alone, but I can’t take you with me.”

“I know, Buck. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “I haven’t… Uh, I haven’t felt like I could be alone for real in a while.”

---

72 for 🔼 (Well it's not alll gonna be angst... is all I can say...)

---

It goes on that way for weeks. Calls and online games mostly, but twice a week, Buck and Eddie are over in the yard, either doing garden chores, or directing Chris with his. Sometimes, when the weather is right, Shannon will lay a blanket on the opposite side of the yard and sit out there with them. Jane will sit up on the blanket, some brightly colored toy in her hand, watching them work intently and babbling little baby sounds. Eddie gets to talk to her. Gets to answer back like they’re having a conversation. 

For those weeks, Chris seems happy. Shannon seems happy. Jane, well… She’s a baby. Her mood changes with the hour. But she seems good, too. Great, even. Eddie just can’t wait to hold her again. 

“You’re in a better mood lately,” Buck observes one afternoon, driving home from gardening.

“I miss the kids,” Eddie says. “It’s just good to be with them, in whatever way we can be.”

Buck nods, smiles softly. “Yeah. You’re different after you see them. I… I love having you all the time, but I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Eddie exhales heavily. “Me too.”

Buck smiles again, but there’s a sad look in his eye. 

“What is it?” Eddie asks. 

“Nothin’,” Buck clearly lies.

“No, really,” Eddie presses. “What’s up?”

“I’ll just miss not being with you every day,” Buck says. “Even if I know it’s for the best.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. 

“If you think I’m letting you go, Buck… You’re crazy.”

Buck scrunches his lips to the side for a second, blushing. 

“I’d hope not,” he mumbles. 

“Definitely not,” Eddie confirms. “And, it’s not just… I mean, you’re there every time, too. You’re family, okay? I take that seriously.”

That kind of leaves Buck speechless for a second. Eddie knows he takes it seriously, too. 

v.

The last time Eddie came home - really came home, after being far away - it hadn’t exactly been his choice. He was shot out of the sky and littered with bullets and nearly died. Shannon nearly lost him. He didn’t come home. He was sent home. Not his choice. Shannon always wondered, would he have reenlisted? Would it just have kept happening, if it had been left up to him? If he hadn’t been medically discharged, when would she have snapped? What would have happened? Would she have divorced the empty side of their bed?

She doesn’t know. That’s not the point. The point is, today, after another prolonged absence - albeit not his choice or fault, and much preferable to Afghanistan - Eddie comes home as soon as he possibly can. Restrictions are lowered. Eddie takes a test. And the moment it’s clear, he’s on his way. No hesitations. No excuses. He’s just coming home. 

Shannon tells Chris. He whoops with excitement. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, giddy. 

“I’m sure,” she promises. “He’s ten minutes away, sweetie.”

Her son is so happy he starts to cry. 

---

96 for 🪩 (THANK YOU!)

---

It doesn’t quite go that way. 

Eddie wakes up to Christopher shouting. 

“NO!” 

This is a rather alarming way to be woken. Eddie, startled, nearly rolls out of bed and hops to his feet to run to him, before he remembers his foot. 

“I got it,” Buck mumbles, climbing out of bed with a yawn.

The whole point of today was for Buck to sleep in and take it easy, but what can they do? A shout like that requires some haste. Eddie can’t currently be hasty. Eddie lags behind as Buck hurries out of the room, in search of Christopher. He finds them in the bathroom. Buck’s broad frame blocks Eddie’s view inside the doorway. 

“This is horrible! Prom is ruined!” Chris complains.

“No,” Buck says gently. “No, it’s not that bad. Really!”

“What is it?” Eddie asks. “What’s going on?”

“My life is over!” Chris bemoans.

Buck sighs and steps aside, letting Eddie into the bathroom. 

“Look,” Chris points to his forehead. His forehead, where, smack in the middle, there is a massive, red zit. “It’s horrible.” 

“Oh, wow,” Eddie says dumbly.

Buck nudges him.

Christopher’s face crumples even further. 

“I mean!” Eddie leaps to fix his statement. “I mean, it’s not that bad. Wow, your reaction was… Big, because the zit is not.” 

“Oh, great save,” Buck mutters.

“You’re lying!” Chris practically whines. “It’s horrible!”

Eddie sighs. He fucked this one up.

“Okay, you know what? It’s not great.” He admits. “But prom isn’t ruined. We can fix this.” 

“Can we?” Chris asks. “Because they don’t just disappear!” 

“No. No, they don’t,” Eddie agrees. 

“But we can hide it!” Buck interjects. 

“Hide it?” Chris asks.

“Yeah!” Buck nods enthusiastically. “Yep. We can, uh… Today we can work on getting the redness down, and tomorrow we can use some makeup.”

“Makeup?” Chris asks. “I can’t do makeup! I don’t know how!”

“Well…” Eddie winces. “You must have friends that do. Ainslee does, right?”

“What?” Chris demands. “She can’t see this! She can’t know!”

“Eddie, how did you ever get a girl to take you seriously?” Buck chides. “No, Chris. Don’t worry. We’ll look it up on YouTube.”

To his question, Eddie has no idea. Realizing he’s gay was incredibly liberating, in that he never has to think about that again. And, on top of that, Buck is pretty easy to be around. No stress. No pressure. 

“YouTube,” Chris sighs. “Right. Okay. Buck, you’ll help me?”

“Of course,” Buck nods. 

“I can help, too!” Eddie insists. 

[srtafig]

No Complaints is actually so Jean coded.

“I thought I had somethin'

And that's the same as havin' somethin’”

Jean thinking he had his spot in the perfect court, finding some comfort (?) in his name and place within the Ravens and by Riko and Kevin’s side until everything goes to shit. When in reality Jean never had any power in any of the choices made for him.

“I'd get mad at nothin', blame my dad for somethin'”

Jean is just angry for a lot of valid reasons, but also so much so it permeates and smoothes into sadness. Nothing here is how as a Moreau he is valued as nothing. Jean blames his family for landing him in Moriyama hands and their neglect for his sister’s death. Referencing the end of TSC when he called Wymack and was thinking why his parents didn’t love them enough to protect them (ouch).

“I pull no punches, then feel bad for months”

Kinda self explanatory…Jean doesn’t fight back (anymore) and whether he does or doesn’t he still has to deal with the repercussions of that choice (of the Nest) outside and within the Nest.

“Mm, thought I was raised better, tried to fake better

Tried to blame weather and escape better”

This is where I get interpretive :p

Jean thinking he could protect his sister, that his purpose meant she would survive, that being a Moreau was in service of something than a dead master and a crumbling team. He tried to blame his pain on his parents and the truth (that he know) of what it means to be a Moreau. He also tried to survive by submitting hence “escape better” than maybe say Neil who only fought his “fate” as a Wesninski.

“Hope the skin heals where the pain enters”

Jean peeling himself up over and over again telling himself he must endure even in the face of the dreaded “how much?” question.

“But I finally got sewed up”

He met Renee. He escaped the Nest. He went to USC and became a Trojan.

“I set a time, then I showed up”

Jean admitting he had friends at the end of TSC. He learned to lean on Renee and eventually allowed Jeremy to help him through what will be a shit show (and Cat and Laila eventually).

“Now the weight of the world ain't so bad”

The weight of existence isn’t as heavy as it was in the Nest. The freedom is crushing and exhilarating all at once for him, but it’s not the Nest (which slowly in TSC he comes to realize).

“I saw the end, it looks just like the middle

Got a paper and pen and a page with no space”

This is depressing, but it’s Jean realizing he’ll always have a master. He will always answer to some Moriyama in some capacity. For this I’m referring to his conversation with Neil about finding people to hold on to and how which is a better investment: a man with reasons to not let go or one that was simply told to not let go.

Jeans beginning, middle, and end look the same and he can’t change that; there’s no space on the page.

“I filled the hole in my head with prescription medication

And forgot how to cry, who am I to complain?”

He filled the void of his Raven partner with Jeremy and the other Trojans. Renee and the Trojans become Jean’s source of dopamine (at this point bc we don’t know in canon if he’ll be on meds).

Jean eventually doesn’t have bruises anymore, his body doesn’t forget what happened but the fresh evidence of such fades away.

And at the end of the day Jean realizes that this (being at USC, still an investment) is the best he’s had it and as he says in TSC “more than he deserves” so how is he to complain? (Which isn’t true he deserves the world and more)

ANYWAYS thanks of y’all read this lil breakdown :)

[monzabee]

I DON’T EVEN CARE, I’M STAYING UP ALL NIGHT IF I NEED TO SEE DANIEL, EXCUSE ME. SINCE UH WHEN?

[possiblyfunny]

Hey, look guys, more art-

HOPE.

I’ve been wanting to draw him like this ever since I first saw him smile, but my will to draw eluded me until now! This started off as a doodle, so, please excuse the messiness. I drew this to de-stress.

“Fire” Red belongs to @creatively-cosmic. They have a blog called @themissingnumbers, which is really good! Go check it out if you want to see more.

[Sketch + Colored Version below the cut!]

[guccigarantine]

I don’t have the brain today to properly articulate this but it always gets me that Gur Sevraq used to be a follower of Perennial. He stopped because she told him to follow the True Divine. He left her because she told him to. Did it feel like a betrayal to have the deity they worshiped their whole life send them away? Was it an honor to be chosen? Is it a betrayal to be chained to the woman who killed him? Is it an honor to have her care enough to release him and allow him to continue his work? Is it another betrayal that they aren’t allowed to ever rest?

[samuraisharkie]

the thing about living in the world is that it is filled with hopeless anguish and despair and evil and there’s no way for anyone to defeat it all. but you have to keep on living

[solace-seekers]

screaming into the void <3

[acourtofquestions]

Hearth to hearth, the Flame of War went.

Over snow-blasted mountains and amongst the trees of tangled forests, hiding from the enemies that prowled the skies. Through long, bitterly cold nights where the wind howled as it tried to wipe out any trace of that flame.

But the wind did not succeed, not against the flame of the queen.

So hearth to hearth, it went.

To remote villages where people screamed and scattered as a young-faced woman descended from the skies on a broom, waving her torch high.

Not to signal them, but the few women who did not run. Who walked toward the flame, the rider, as she called out, "Your queen summons you to war. Will you fly?"

Trunks hidden in attics were thrown open. Folded swaths of red cloth pulled from within. Brooms left in closets, beside doorways, tucked under beds, were brought out, bound in gold or silver or twine. And swords-ancient and beautiful—were drawn from beneath floorboards, or hauled down from haylofts, their metal shining as bright and fresh as the day they had been forged in a city now lying in ruin.

Witches, the townsfolk whispered, husbands wide-eyed and disbelieving as the women took to the skies, red cloaks billowing. Witches amongst us all this time.

Village to village, where hearths that had never once gone fully dark blazed in answer.

Always one rider going out, to find the next hearth, the next bastion of their people.

Witches, here amongst us. Witches, now going to war.

A rising tide of witches, who took to the skies in their red cloaks, swords strapped to their backs, brooms shedding years of dust with each mile northward.

Witches who bade their families farewell, offering no explanation before they kissed their sleeping babes and vanished into the starry night.

Mile after mile, across the darkening world, the call went out, ceaseless and unending as the eternal flame that passed from hearth to hearth.

"Fly, fly, fly!" they shouted. "To the queen! To war!"

Far and wide, through snow and storm and peril, the Crochans flew.

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it is unfortunate when i go to prayer and cry my eyes out and the only response i really hear is that i simply have to bear it. like usually i can get my emotions out and once they’re settled i hear a rational solution but it sucks when i don’t get the answer i want. i just have to keep waiting. like normally i hear something that gives me strength but wow apparently i’ve hit a new low

[voiceshearingyouloud]

I used to think ‘I got over my grief about being disabled a long time ago, I’m past it now’ well, no I wasn’t. Turns out having to take two semesters out of uni will poke all those old ‘I’m a failure’, ‘it’s my fault’, ‘I’ll never be able to study again’ buttons 🙃