#this is probably the last one for the event

[captain-lord-auditor-sillypants]

It’s more like, your life becomes less about you reacting to the world and more about you impacting the world around you. You go from showing up places expecting to be fed to being one of the people who brings extra food to events so everyone can eat. You go from mainly learning job skills to joining a community of practice where you share your knowledge and help those around you improve their skills.

It’s not all or nothing - you’re probably already sharing and teaching things you’re passionate about before 21, and you’ll be leading the rest of your life. And even successful grownups occasionally need a little help from their friends. But the ratio will shift and you’ll go from getting told what to all the time to being part of decision process, or even just staking out your own path and doing it. It’s pretty awesome. I mean, in joyed the last half of high school and all of college, but I would never want to go back to dependence.

For most people, life doesn’t truly begin until they’re 26-30 or older. The way we romanticize and obsess over youth is super harmful. Your life is not over at 21, I promise you. It’s just beginning

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[ozzgin]

You know what I love about your writing? The monsters love us so much! They are just weird, obsessed, awkward, and very horny, but it's ok, I am too! (very horny included)

I feel your writing as a big cuddle (but a careful cuddle, or someone will be happily poked, if you know what I mean *nudge nudge wink wink*) I just went AWWWWW at the last monster roommates. Poor babies. They just want to make you happy! That made me imagine a monster roommates cozy pile so we can all watch a movie ('yes, it's a human thing!' you tell them). You never felt such a tense atmosphere, a lot of hard cocks pressed against you, the monster roommates looking at you longingly as their cocks THROB, warm against you. They just want you to feel comfy, but now you're wet and there may be consequences HAHAHAHAHAH - weird, obsessed, awkward and very horny anon <3

NSFW content!

Monster roommates with a horndog Reader would probably lead to a lot of laundry and missed social events...

"I haven't seen you in weeks," your monstrous friend remarks with mild worry. "Are you alright?"

They eye your bed, an empty mattress devoid of any comfort. Your wardrobe is empty.

"Oh my God, is this how they keep you?"

"No, no," you rush to explain, awkwardly gesturing with your hands. "It's just...it's all in the laundry."

You hesitantly point to an enormous pile of drenched sheets and clothing. What could you possibly say, that there's several decadent railings happening per day? That you lost any feeling in your bottom for days now? You fan yourself, humiliated. Even worse, one of your roommates is peeking from the hallway with a visible boner.

"Sorry, I'm afraid I have to go. Duty calls."

[ms-demeanor]

Hi, this is maybe a pointless question where the answer is just "that's how life works," but how do you have energy for all the things you do? You seem to be constantly juggling 50 different projects and juggling them well. You create so many community resources, do deep scientific dives on your own time, excel at work, plus maintain social and familial relationships. I was able to maintain good work performance, a hobby, and social life for maybe six months last year before I burned out

The thing is I'm juggling it badly, it's just that you see the curated version here on tumblr! I've got probably five times as many stalled and unfinished resources/projects as I have completed ones, I am in a constant state of numbness/anxiety at work (since the new company bought us I'm really, really overworked and have been putting in 10-12 hour days pretty regularly - it's why my posting and writing here has dropped off and my fiction writing is basically not happening), and I'm actually a pretty shit friend because it's difficult for me to make time to communicate with people and leave the house.

My two tricks to make it seem like I've got it together are:

Just do a lot of shit. Some of it will get finished even if you end up with a ton of abandoned projects and if you do this at a high enough volume you can still get a lot done

Join some kind of club or regular hangout event; once a month I go hang out with the same group of people i've been hanging out with for twenty years and sometimes we'll plan things outside of that group and that's most of my social life.

I am also exhausted at all times but I've got the shark version of ADHD where I feel like if I'm not doing something I'll die.

I am probably deeply in danger of burning out but I've had the same "maybe if I get hit by a car I could take a couple weeks off of school without it destroying my life" feeling since i was 10 so it's hard for me to gauge if there's a collapse of any kind coming.

Have you ever tried to get yourself to sprint by falling forward and just putting your feet in front of yourself? It's like that, but I've managed to keep my feet under me so far. I'd say "if I had to deal with any obstacles it would make me fall flat on my face" but I'm actually more productive in catastrophes so. Who knows!

Mental illness. I think the answer is mental illness. I am not a healthy example to follow and I don't want people to think that the way that I act is A) Normal B) Healthy C) Effortless D) Sustainable.

I am just obsessive and weird and I don't sleep very much and I don't leave the house very frequently. I think things were better before the pandemic, when I was doing things with the band and could go to shows because Large Bastard wasn't immune compromised, but a lot has changed in the last five years.

[katharkness]

The last TV show I watched was a DVD of History Channel’s The Third Reich: The Rise.

…and the thing is Hitler DID have crack troops, the ones who rescued Mussolini in ‘43, so in the unlikely event Adolf Hitler was arranging for me to be rescued from kidnappers, it would probably go quite well, the only problem is I absolutely do not want to be rescued by Adolf Hitler.

But I did also catch a few minutes, so maybe it’s just going to be Clarkson, Hammond and May.

[rootedinrevisions]

Worth More than Gold

SUMMARY: Glen Powell has asked you, his long-time friend and secret crush to be his date to the Golden Globes. The evening is filled with glitz, glamour, and the intoxicating spark of possibilities - both on the red carpet and behind the scene. And at the end of the day Glen may not have won the Golden Globe, but he just might have won something better—you.

A/N: Glen's look at the Golden Globes did things to me and gave me so many ideas. This will probably be the last fic I do for the GG and I'm going to try to get back on track with my WIPs and Requests.

As always I'd love to hear what you guys think! I love seeing your comments and reblogs! I seriously smile and get all giddy like a little kid when I get a notification from you guys so please let me know what I think.

WORD COUNT: 10.8k

TAGS: In Comments.

The hotel room was a whirlwind of chaos, a perfect reflection of Glen’s pre-event energy. The plush carpet was littered with tissue paper from a last-minute gift delivery, a shoe box sat abandoned near the bed, and the sleek black tie Glen had decided to forego tonight was somehow draped over a lampshade.

Glen himself was in the middle of the room, pacing in socks and dress pants, his phone pressed to his ear. “Listen, I’m just saying, Texas football isn’t a sport—it’s a religion,” he declared, his Texas drawl warming the edges of his words. “And if the Longhorns take the game against Ohio State this week, we’re coming for that national title.”

He paused, evidently listening to the journalist on the other end of the call, then grinned as he gestured animatedly with his free hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know you want to talk about the nomination. But did you see last weekend’s game? That last play in the second overtime?”

Across the room, you sat curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone but only half-paying attention to the screen. Watching Glen charm his way through an interview about his career or recent projects while managing to somehow steer the conversation to Texas football was nothing new.

“Cufflinks,” said Warren, the stylist ensuring Glen looked red-carpet ready. Warren stood to the side, arms crossed with the patience of someone who’d dealt with a dozen “Glen Powells” before.

“They’re in the pocket of your tux,” you called without looking up, your voice laced with playful exasperation. “Right where I told you I put them earlier.”

Glen froze mid-gesture, patting down his pants pocket first before moving to his jacket. When his fingers closed around the cufflinks, he shot you a sheepish grin. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” he mouthed, before turning his attention back to his call. “Listen, I gotta wrap this up. Can I call you tomorrow and we’ll finish this?” he asked the journalist.

With that, he hung up and turned to the room, raking a hand through his neatly-styled hair. “You believe this?” He said, grinning as he pocketed his phone. “I’m on deadline and trying to get out the door for one of the biggest nights of my life. And GQ wants to talk about…wardrobe and clothes and who I’m wearing.”

Warren arched a brow, adjusting the velvet Armani jacket on its hanger. “Wardrobe is why I’m here, Glen,” he said with a grin. “Now, if you could refrain from wrinkling this masterpiece, we might actually get you to the event looking like a winner.”

You snorted, rising from the couch. “Poor you,” you teased, brushing imaginary lint off your own shirt. “Must be so hard being adored by millions while wearing designer clothes.”

Glen rolled his eyes and snorted, stepping closer as the stylist fussed with his cummerbund. “Hey, I’m counting on you to keep me sane tonight,” he said, half-serious as he began to tug at the cuffs of his shirt. “You’re my buffer.”

“Buffer?” you repeated, arching a brow. “That’s what I’m here for? Not moral support—just as a human barrier between you and Hollywood?”

“Exactly,” he deadpanned, his grin widening. “You’re overqualified for the job, though.”

You stepped forward, brushing imaginary lint from his shirt, your fingers moving with practiced ease over the slick fabric. Glen watched you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Okay, be honest,” he said, tilting his chin slightly. “One button or two undone? What’s the vibe tonight?”

You paused, letting your gaze drop to the open collar of his shirt, catching a glimpse of the chest hair peeking out.

“One,” you said decisively, reaching up to fasten the second button. “Two buttons undone is too much chest hair. You’re going to a red carpet, not auditioning for a ‘70s cop show.”

He laughed, the rich sound filling the room as he placed his hands on his hips. “Hey, my chest hair is a crowd-pleaser,” he countered, feigning offense. “You don’t know how many compliments I’ve gotten on this chest.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a laugh. “Please never say that to me again.”

He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. “Admit it. You’re just jealous you can’t pull this off.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the collar of his shirt with a playful tug. “Oh, please. If I wanted to show off chest hair, I’d buy a faux-fur vest and call it a day.”

“Savage,” he said, clutching his chest as though you’d wounded him. “You’ve got jokes tonight, huh?”

“Somebody has to keep your ego in check,” you replied, stepping back to inspect your work. “And you make it so easy.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head as he tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. “Well, I’ll have you know, Warren said I was rocking this look,” he said, gesturing toward the stylist, who was busy folding tissue paper into one of the garment bags.

Warren didn’t even look up. “Warren also said to stop touching your shirt or you’ll wrinkle it,” he replied dryly, earning a snort from you and an exaggerated groan from Glen.

“Fine,” Glen said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “No more touching. But if I get to the carpet and I’m not turning heads, I’m blaming you.”

“Oh, you’ll turn heads,” you said, crossing your arms and giving him a once-over. “If not for the suit, then definitely for whatever ridiculous sound bite you give on the carpet. You’re physically incapable of being boring, remember?”

He grinned, stepping closer so the space between you was almost nonexistent. “Is that a compliment?” he asked, his voice dipping slightly.

You tilted your head, refusing to let him win. “Don’t get used to it, Cowboy.”

“Ah, there it is,” he said, leaning back with a laugh. “The nickname. I knew it was coming.”

You shrugged. “If the boots fit…”

Glen slid the custom velvet Armani tux jacket over his broad shoulders, the deep midnight-black fabric catching the light in subtle, luxurious waves. He tugged at the lapels, ensuring everything was sitting perfectly, before stepping back with an air of casual confidence.

“Well?” he asked, doing a quick spin on his heels, arms spread out theatrically. “What do you think? Too much? Not enough?”

You leaned back slightly, arms crossed, pretending to appraise him critically, but your expression betrayed you. Your eyes swept over him, taking in every detail—the sharp tailoring that hugged his frame perfectly, the structured cut of the jacket emphasizing his frame, and the way the silk shirt beneath hinted at the faintest trail of chest hair.

The stylist had done a remarkable job on his hair, taming the usual tousled locks into something sleek yet effortlessly natural. And the stubble—God, the stubble. He hadn’t bothered to shave completely, leaving just enough scruff to lend him a rugged edge that, if you were honest, made him look even more attractive.

The all-black ensemble was a bold choice, but it worked. The mix of textures—the smooth silk of the shirt, the luxurious velvet of the jacket, and the matte sheen of the tailored trousers—created a look that was polished yet unmistakably Glen.

“You clean up nice,” you finally said, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you took him in from head to toe. “I mean, you almost look like a proper gentleman.”

“Almost?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow as he turned back toward the mirror, pretending to check himself out.

“Well, the stubble kind of ruins the whole gentleman thing,” you quipped, biting back a laugh.

“Ruin it?” Glen turned to face you again, his voice dripping with mock offense. “The stubble is the pièce de résistance, thank you very much.” He ran a hand over his jaw, grinning when he saw the way your gaze briefly followed the movement.

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “Sure it is. But seriously, you look good, Glen. The best I’ve seen you look in a while.”

For a moment, his grin softened, and his eyes caught yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, more sincerely this time. “You’re going to knock ‘em dead tonight.”

He held your gaze for a beat longer than usual, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he broke the moment with his signature charm. “Well, I have to. You’re the one who’ll have to be seen with me all night. Can’t embarrass you on your first red carpet.”

You glanced at the clock and froze. Less than an hour until you were supposed to be ready and out the door. Helping Glen finish getting ready had been fun—maybe a little too fun, you realized now, as time ticked away faster than you’d expected.

“I need to go get ready,” you said abruptly, stepping back and pointing toward the door.

Glen smirked, his hands casually adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Go on, Cinderella. Clock’s ticking.”

Without another word, you bolted for your room next door, already running through a mental checklist of what needed to happen to make yourself red carpet-ready in under an hour. Once inside, you kicked the door shut behind you and headed straight for the bathroom. Flicking on the light, you stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Okay. Hair. Makeup. Dress. You could do this. Right?

You pulled your hair loose from the lazy ponytail it had been in all day, raking your fingers through it and trying to decide if it would look better up or down. Your eyes darted to the neckline of the dress still hanging on the back of the closet door, but you didn’t have time to figure out how to make everything match. You groaned, pressing your hands to your face.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Hello?” you called out, cautiously heading toward the door and cracking it open.

Standing there were two members of Glen’s glam squad—one holding a bag of makeup brushes and palettes, the other with a small suitcase of hair tools.

“Mr. Powell asked us to check on you,” the makeup artist said with a kind smile. “He thought you might be running behind.”

You blinked at them, momentarily speechless. “He... sent you?”

The hairstylist nodded. “He figured you might need a little help. Mind if we come in?”

You stepped aside to let them in, still processing Glen’s uncanny ability to predict you’d be panicking. “Sorry about the mess,” you admitted, glancing at the clock again. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Don’t worry,” the makeup artist said, already setting up her supplies on the bathroom counter. “We’ve got this. Can we see the dress? It’ll help us figure out the best look for you.”

You grabbed the garment bag from the closet and unzipped it, revealing the dress inside. You’d picked it out weeks ago, but standing there now, you suddenly second-guessed everything about it.

The hairstylist tilted his head thoughtfully, taking in the neckline and cut. “With this neckline, I’d suggest pulling your hair up—something elegant but not overdone. It’ll show off your shoulders and collarbone beautifully.”

You nodded, trusting his expertise. “That sounds perfect.”

“And for makeup,” the other stylist added, “we’ll keep it timeless—focus on your eyes, a little shimmer, and a soft lip. Nothing too bold, just enough to complement the dress and the hair.”

“Let’s do it,” you said, exhaling as you sat down.

With practiced efficiency, they got to work. The hairstylist began gathering your hair into an elegant style that framed your face while showcasing the neckline of the dress. Meanwhile, the makeup artist brushed soft gold tones onto your lids, added a touch of liner to define your eyes, and blended everything seamlessly. A quick swipe of lipstick finished the look.

You watched the transformation in the mirror, the tension slowly melting from your shoulders. By the time they stepped back to admire their handiwork, you felt like a completely different person.

“Done in thirty minutes, just like we promised,” the hairstylist said with a grin.

You stood, giving them both a grateful smile. “Thank you. Seriously, I wouldn’t have made it without you—or Glen, apparently.”

The makeup artist laughed. “He seemed pretty confident you’d need backup. Smart guy.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, thinking about his effortless charm and how much he looked out for you. “He really is.”

After the hairstylist and makeup artist left, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, a deep breath escaping your lips. You could do this.

You reached for the dress, still hanging from its garment bag, and carefully unzipped it. The soft fabric slid through your fingers as you pulled it off the hanger, feeling a flutter of nerves as you held it up in front of you.

The dress was simple, yet elegant, hugging every curve in a way that made you second-guess your choice. But it was beautiful.

With your heart racing a little, you slipped the dress on. You paused to glance at the mirror as you tugged the fabric up your body, hoping everything would fall into place.

But it didn’t.

The zipper snagged halfway up your lower back. You tugged a little harder, but it didn’t budge. Panic settled in your chest. You didn’t want to rip the fabric or make a scene, but there was no way to finish getting ready if you couldn’t zip the dress.

Your fingers fumbled for your phone, dialing Glen’s number before you could think twice. The seconds ticked by slowly, and your nerves only heightened with every ring.

“Hey, it’s me,” you said the moment he answered. Your voice trembled slightly despite your best efforts to sound calm. “I need help. The zipper on the dress is stuck, and I can’t get it up.”

“Don’t worry, I’m coming right over,” Glen’s voice was calm, reassuring. You could almost hear the smile in his tone.

The call ended quickly, and before you knew it, there was a soft knock at your door. You quickly pulled the front of the dress to your chest and peeked out, your eyes meeting Glen’s as you opened the door just a crack. His presence was as commanding as ever, but now, standing there, you felt exposed.

“Hey,” you greeted him, offering a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, raising an eyebrow. “Need a hand?”

You nodded, opening the door wider for him to step inside.

As he entered, you turned, giving him full view of the situation. The dress clung tightly to your body, and you were sure your back looked exposed in the tight fabric. A slight blush crept across your cheeks as your fingers instinctively tugged at the fabric.

“Relax,” Glen said, his tone warm and teasing. He moved behind you and gently grasped the zipper. 

After a few tugs and a bit of effort, he managed to get it unstuck, smoothly pulling it the rest of the way up. The dress fit perfectly once it was zipped all the way.

Glen stepped back with a satisfied nod, patting your hip gently. “All good. You’re all set now.”

You took a deep breath, your nerves slightly eased but still there. With a nervous smile, you smoothed the front of your dress down, trying to calm yourself before glancing back at him.

“Do I look okay?” you asked quietly, suddenly unsure of how you appeared.

Glen gave you a slow once-over, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than you expected. Then, his lips curved into a soft smile.

“You look amazing,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “Seriously. You’re going to steal the show tonight.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension in your chest easing. Glen’s words meant more than you realized, and as he gave you that smile, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

Once you were fully ready, feeling the weight of the evening ahead, Glen offered you a reassuring smile as he adjusted his jacket one last time. He gave you a soft nod, signaling that it was time to go.

Together, you left the suite, the sound of your heels echoing in the hallway as you walked side by side toward the elevator. Glen pressed the button, standing close enough to be a silent but steady presence. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he moved—like he was born to own every room he entered, even though his demeanor was always so grounded.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Glen stepped aside, letting you enter first. When you reached the lobby, the bustle of the hotel faded in comparison to the calm, quiet space Glen seemed to create around the two of you. He was the kind of person who moved with purpose, but never rushed—always thoughtful, always present.

As you made your way toward the entrance, he gave a quiet wave to a few people who greeted him, but he kept his focus on you, his hand close to your lower back as if guiding you through the crowd.

Outside, a sleek black car waited by the curb, the driver standing at attention. Glen held the door open for you with a courteous nod, his hand outstretched to assist you into the back seat.

You smiled, appreciating the little things—his attention to detail, the way he never made you feel like you were inconveniencing him. You slid into the seat, and as you did, Glen quickly followed, settling next to you with a quiet grace that was all him.

The driver closed the door, and the car began to move smoothly through the streets, the city lights reflecting off the tinted windows. The buzz of the evening began to settle into a comfortable rhythm, and Glen turned his attention to you with a soft look.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his tone light but sincere. He glanced down at your dress, the slight gleam in his eyes making you feel all the more seen. “You’re gonna turn heads tonight, no doubt about it.”

You smiled, trying to play it cool, but his words still made your stomach flutter. “I’m ready,” you said, your voice steady. 

The car glided through the streets, the hum of the engine and the soft clink of the streetlights outside giving you a sense of distance from the chaos of the night ahead. Your fingers nervously drummed on the fabric of your dress, your gaze flickering from the passing city lights to the reflection of yourself in the window.

Glen noticed the subtle tension in your posture and the way your fingers twitched, like they couldn’t quite settle. His sharp eyes, attuned to every little shift in your mood, moved over to you. He shifted closer, his hand reaching across the space between you with ease, brushing lightly over your fingers before gently taking your hand in his.

"You're going to be fine," he said, his voice low, teasing but gentle, as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, smoothing away any remnants of tension. "Just smile and wave, Penguin. You’ve got this."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname, the warmth of his hand in yours bringing a little bit of ease. “Penguin?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow, feeling the tension in your shoulders release with that soft chuckle.

He grinned at you, the kind of smile that melted any nervous edge. “Yeah, Penguin. You know—Madagascar. Smile and wave boys. Smile and wave.” He gave your hand a playful tug, the humor in his eyes lighting up.

You shook your head, but the tension you’d carried with you slowly began to melt. Glen had that way about him—without even trying, he made things feel easy, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. His confidence was infectious, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that you could pull this off.

The car hit a smooth turn, the soft hum of the tires filling the silence. You glanced at Glen, his easy grin still in place, his hand steady in yours. There was something about his presence—something grounding, comforting. Without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as you let the last bits of tension drain away.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Glen glanced down at you, his expression softening. He didn’t move, didn’t shift away—he just stayed still, letting you rest there. His thumb continued its soothing motion across the back of your hand, and he tilted his head slightly toward yours.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice warm and steady. "You know I’ve got you."

For a moment, the world outside the car faded away. It was just the two of you, a quiet moment that reminded you why Glen was your best friend. His support, his calm energy—it was all you needed to take a deep breath and believe in yourself again.

As the car slowed to a stop, signaling your arrival at the red carpet, you felt ready. Maybe it was the way Glen always knew how to bring you back to yourself, or maybe it was just the fact that he was there beside you, exactly where he always seemed to be when you needed him most.

You stole a quick glance at Glen, catching the way his gaze softened as he looked back at you, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours.

“Hey,” he said, the tone shifting just a little, serious but with the same undertone of care. “You’re gonna be great, okay? And if you need me to do anything, I’m right here. Just... be you.”

Glen gave your hand one last squeeze, a reassuring pressure that grounded you, and you suddenly felt like you could take on the world.

The driver opened the door, and the bright lights of the red carpet began to stretch ahead of you, already swirling with flashes and faces, the hum of excitement palpable in the air. Glen leaned toward you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of your neck.

“You’re gonna shine tonight,” he said quietly, his voice filled with confidence, making you believe it for the first time.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, then flashed him a grin. “Thanks, Glen.”

He winked. “Anytime, Penguin. Let’s go make some memories.”

With that, you stepped out of the car, Glen’s hand still firmly in yours, ready to face whatever the night would bring—with him by your side, you felt ready for anything.

The roar of the red carpet hit you the moment you stepped out of the car. A wall of flashing lights and the constant hum of voices calling out names created a dizzying cacophony. For a second, you froze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The chaos seemed endless, but Glen’s steady hand on the small of your back was the anchor you needed.

“Stay close,” he said quietly, his voice warm and reassuring, almost lost in the noise. He guided you forward with a gentle pressure, his touch never faltering.

Reporters shouted his name, cameras clicked furiously, and fans called out from behind the barriers. Glen’s demeanor shifted effortlessly, the easy confidence you admired about him coming to life under the scrutiny. But even as he navigated the chaos like a pro, his focus never strayed far from you.

When a particularly eager photographer stepped too close, Glen instinctively pulled you in, lacing your arm through his. The motion was protective yet natural, as though he’d done it a thousand times before.

He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “You doing okay so far?”

You nodded, the nerves still simmering but far less overwhelming with Glen beside you. “Yeah. It’s just... a lot.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers giving your arm a light squeeze. “It’s always a lot. Just keep smiling and don’t trip. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Moments later, you were ushered to the line of reporters waiting for interviews. Glen kept you close, his hand returning to your back as he led you toward the first microphone. The journalist’s attention immediately shifted to him, questions about his latest project firing off one after another.

“This is Glen Powell, looking dapper as always! Who’s your stunning guest tonight?” one reporter asked, her eyes flicking to you with interest.

Glen grinned, that signature charm lighting up his face. “This,” he said, his voice full of pride, “is the best friend who keeps me sane.” He glanced at you, his expression softening as if to emphasize his words.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as the reporter laughed. “Keeping Glen Powell on track sounds like a full-time job!”

“You have no idea,” you replied, finding your confidence in the moment. Glen chuckled beside you, his presence like a shield against the overwhelming spotlight.

The interviews continued, with Glen effortlessly steering the attention toward his projects while making sure you felt included. Whenever he wasn’t speaking, his hand either rested lightly on your back or your arm stayed looped through his. The gesture was subtle, but it kept you grounded, a quiet reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

In a rare lull between interviews, Glen turned to you, his expression softening as the frenzy of the red carpet seemed to momentarily fade into the background.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost drowned out by the noise around you.

You looked up at him, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of the evening. 

“Hey,” you replied, a little breathless.

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of your updo from your face, his fingers lingering just slightly longer than necessary. His touch was light, yet it sent a wave of warmth through you. His eyes searched yours, the usual glint of mischief replaced with something quieter, more sincere. “You okay?”

The simple question held weight, as if he wasn’t just asking about the moment but something deeper. You nodded, your voice catching slightly as you said, “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, his hand dropping back to his side, though the warmth of his touch seemed to linger. “Good. Can’t have my Penguin falling apart on me now.”

The moment hung between you, brief but charged with an unspoken connection that neither of you dared to address. Then the chaos of the red carpet surged back to life, pulling you both out of it.

“Ready to keep going?” Glen asked, his tone light again as he gestured toward the next line of reporters.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “Let’s do it.”

With your arm resting gently on his, Glen led you forward, his confidence bolstering your own. And as the night unfolded, you realized that no matter how overwhelming the evening became, you’d be okay—with Glen by your side.

The ballroom was a masterpiece of elegance, bathed in soft, golden light with tables draped in white linens and adorned with extravagant floral centerpieces. Each table bore name cards in ornate calligraphy, indicating an impressive roster of directors, actors, and other Hollywood heavyweights.

Glen pulled out your chair for you before taking his seat beside you, leaning in briefly to whisper, “You’ve got this. Just be yourself.”

You looked at Glen with a soft smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Powell.”

Within moments, the table began filling with familiar faces. To your left sat Richard Linklater himself, his unassuming charm making you feel more at ease than you’d expected. Across the table, a notable actress you’d only ever seen on-screen chatted animatedly with Glen, who was effortlessly charismatic as always.

“Glen,” Richard said with a warm smile, his Texan drawl coming through as he gestured toward you. “You didn’t introduce me to your lovely guest.”

Glen straightened, the corners of his mouth tilting upward as he turned to you. “Richard, this is the best friend who keeps me sane—and who’s also had to deal with my Dazed and Confused impression far too many times.”

You laughed lightly, shaking Richard’s hand. “It’s true. If I hear him say, ‘Alright, alright, alright,’ one more time, I might disown him.”

Richard chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A classic never dies, though, does it?”

“I suppose not,” you conceded with a grin.

The quick banter caught the attention of the others at the table, who joined the conversation with playful remarks of their own. You held your own with ease, even managing to get a genuine laugh out of the actress across from you after a comment about the absurdity of some press junket questions.

Glen, sitting beside you, watched the exchanges with a kind of quiet pride, his gaze lingering on you whenever you spoke. At one point, he leaned closer, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re killing it. Remind me again—why am I not bringing you to all of these things?”

You smirked, taking a sip of water to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Because you know I’d upstage you.”

“Touché,” he said with a soft laugh, nudging your shoulder playfully.

As the dinner continued, Glen made sure to include you in every conversation, subtly steering the spotlight toward you when someone asked about his current projects. You found yourself talking about Glen’s work ethic and how he somehow managed to juggle it all without losing his sense of humor.

“Sounds like you know him pretty well,” Richard observed with a knowing smile.

“I sure hope so after I’ve put up with him for all these years,” you replied, glancing at Glen. “Someone has to keep him humble.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Glen shook his head, though the unmistakable warmth in his expression betrayed how much he loved every second of it.

When dessert was served—an artfully plated creation that was almost too pretty to eat—Glen leaned in once more, his tone playful but sincere. “See? Told you you’d be great.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, a smile tugging at your lips. “Not bad for someone who almost didn’t make it out of the hotel room.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice softening, “you belong here, you know.”

The weight of his words settled between you, a quiet affirmation that carried more meaning than the playful banter that had preceded it. You nodded, the nerves you’d been holding onto finally beginning to ease.

The awards show was nothing short of spectacular, a seamless blend of glamour, artistry, and showmanship. The host kept the audience entertained with clever quips and light-hearted jokes, while presenters took the stage to announce the winners in a variety of categories. The room buzzed with energy as names were called, winners delivered heartfelt speeches, and cameras panned over the crowd of celebrities.

Sitting beside Glen, you couldn’t help but notice how his leg bounced slightly under the table, a telltale sign of his nerves. Despite the outward appearance of ease he projected, you knew him well enough to see through it. Every now and then, his hand brushed his jawline, the slight stubble catching the light, as he glanced at the stage and back at you with an almost imperceptible smile.

You leaned closer to him during a quieter moment. “How are you holding up?” you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the applause filling the room.

“Better with you here,” he replied, his tone casual but sincere. The weight of his words sent a gentle warmth through you, grounding you as much as it did him.

As the night progressed, Glen laughed at the host’s jokes and applauded the winners, though you could feel his anticipation building as his category grew closer. 

The glitz and chatter around you seemed to blur as the presenter finally took the stage to announce the nominees for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture - Musical or Comedy. 

You felt Glen shift in his seat, his back straightening as his name was called alongside the other nominees. His hand brushed his thigh, and you noticed him take a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out slowly. Instinctively, you leaned in just enough so your shoulder lightly pressed against his, a silent reminder that you were right there with him.

The presenter opened the envelope, the seconds stretching impossibly long. “And the award goes to... Sebastian Stan!”

The room erupted into applause as Sebastian rose from his seat, making his way to the stage. You clapped along with everyone else, but the knot of disappointment in your chest was impossible to ignore. Letting out a small, defeated breath, you glanced over at Glen.

He was smiling politely, clapping for Sebastian, but you saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. The kind of flicker only someone who truly knew him could catch. Others at the table offered their own words of encouragement, but Glen only nodded politely, his attention still half-focused on the stage.

Without thinking, you leaned closer, your voice low and meant just for him. “You’re still the most talented guy in the room.”

You reached over, resting your hand gently on his knee under the table, offering him the kind of comfort words alone couldn’t provide. For a moment, his gaze dropped to your hand, then back to your face. A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his hand briefly covered yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of meaning.

Throughout the rest of the show, Glen leaned into your presence, subtly relying on you to keep him grounded. You noticed the way his body gradually relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing as the night continued. 

When another winner gave a particularly heartfelt speech, Glen turned to you with a quiet chuckle. “At least I don’t have to worry about tripping on the way to the stage.”

You laughed softly, the sound drawing out a more genuine smile from him. “See? There’s always a silver lining.”

By the time the final award was announced and the audience began filtering out of the theater, Glen seemed more at ease. 

As the two of you stood to leave, he placed a hand on your back, guiding you through the crowd. “Thanks for keeping me sane tonight,” he said, his voice low but warm.

“Always,” you replied with a smile, feeling the unspoken connection between you deepen as the evening came to a close.

The after-party was everything you expected it to be: glamorous, extravagant, and a little overwhelming. The main Golden Globes after-party felt less like a celebration and more like a carefully orchestrated networking event. The room was packed with A-list celebrities, producers, directors, and journalists, each armed with a drink in one hand and a carefully curated smile.

Music thumped in the background, but it barely registered over the hum of conversations and the clinking of champagne glasses. Glen stayed by your side at first, introducing you to a few people here and there. You exchanged pleasantries with actors whose faces you recognized from the big screen and smiled politely at directors whose names you tried not to forget. 

But before long, Glen was pulled away, whisked from one conversation to the next like the star of the evening. You watched as he posed for pictures, his easy charm making every interaction look effortless. He’d glance back at you occasionally, offering a reassuring smile or a quick wink, but you could tell even he was beginning to feel the strain of the crowd.

You nursed a drink at the edge of the room, trying to stay out of the way while still keeping Glen in your sights. It was easy to lose track of time amidst the chaos, but the constant flow of strangers and small talk started to take its toll. The energy in the room felt electric and draining all at once, and you found yourself wishing for a quieter corner to catch your breath.

After what felt like hours, Glen appeared at your side, his hand lightly brushing your arm to get your attention. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise around you. “This is… a lot, huh?”

You nodded, letting out a small laugh. “It’s a little overwhelming. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve smiled so much tonight my face might be stuck this way,” he joked, though there was a hint of exhaustion in his eyes. He glanced around the room, then back at you. “What do you say we head to my party? I think I’ve shaken enough hands and posed for enough pictures to last a lifetime.”

The suggestion was like a lifeline, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Glen’s shoulders relaxed visibly at your answer, and he gave you a small, grateful smile. He offered you his arm, the gesture both protective and grounding as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Despite the noise and flashing cameras still lingering near the doorway, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as you stepped out into the cool night air.

The car ride to the rooftop bar was quiet, a welcome change from the chaos of the Golden Globes after-party. Glen leaned back against the seat, his shirt now unbuttoned to a second button and the faintest hint of exhaustion in his expression.

You glanced at him, smiling softly. “You know, most people would just go to bed after a night like this. Not go to another party.”

Glen chuckled, his head turning toward you. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

When the car pulled up to the rooftop bar, Glen stepped out first, turning back to offer you his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go see everyone.”

The rooftop bar was stunning, its perimeter lined with fairy lights that cast a warm, golden glow. The city skyline sparkled in the distance, and the faint hum of music drifted through the air. Glen had rented the entire space, and as the two of you stepped inside, you were greeted by the cheerful buzz of conversation.

His parents were the first to spot you, their faces lighting up as they hurried over to greet Glen with warm hugs and congratulations. 

His mom pulled you into an embrace as well, her voice filled with genuine affection. “You look stunning tonight, sweetheart. And thank you for taking care of our boy out there.”

“Always,” you replied with a smile, feeling the ease that came with being around Glen’s family.

You scanned the room and spotted Leslie, Glen’s younger sister, waving excitedly from across the bar. She was all smiles as she made her way over, throwing her arms around you in a hug. 

“It’s been forever!” she exclaimed, pulling back to give you a once-over. “You look amazing! And that dress—ugh, you’re killing me.”

“You’re one to talk,” you teased, taking in her own dress. “You look incredible.”

Glen was quickly pulled into conversations with friends and other guests, his charm and warmth on full display as he moved through the room. You stayed behind with Leslie, the two of you settling into a quieter corner of the bar.

“So,” you said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Tell me everything about the engagement. I need details.”

Leslie’s face lit up, and she launched into a detailed recounting of the proposal—how her fiancé had asked, the secret planning, how he included her friends and family in on the surprise. She showed you the ring, a design that perfectly suited her, and the two of you gushed over wedding plans.

“I’m thinking late spring,” Leslie said, twirling her glass of wine between her fingers. “Something outdoors, simple but elegant. Glen keeps trying to offer to pay for everything, but I want to keep it low-key.”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, smiling. “And knowing Glen, he’ll find a way to contribute whether you want him to or not.”

Leslie laughed, nodding. “Oh, I know. He’s the best, though. We’re lucky to have him.”

“Yeah, we really are.” Your gaze drifted across the room to where Glen was laughing with a small group of friends, his easy smile making your own lips curve upward. His hand was resting casually in the pocket of his suit pants.

“You’ve got that look again,” Leslie said, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You blinked, snapping your gaze back to her. “What look?”

She grinned knowingly and nudged your arm with her elbow. “The ‘I’m totally into Glen but I’ll never admit it’ look.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks. “What? That’s ridiculous,” you said quickly, trying to laugh it off. “You’re crazy.”

“Uh-huh,” Leslie said, leaning back against the bar with a smirk. “Sure I am.”

You rolled your eyes, determined to brush off her teasing. “He’s my best friend, Les. That’s-” But before you could finish your sentence, Glen glanced over at the two of you. His eyes found yours across the room, and when he smiled—soft, warm, and undeniably genuine—you felt your words falter. 

You didn’t even realize you had stopped speaking until Leslie let out a low chuckle.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, barely containing her laughter. “You’ve got it bad.”

Realizing what just happened, you tore your gaze away from Glen, your face burning. 

“I do not,” you muttered, but the weak protest only made Leslie laugh harder.

She shook her head, her grin widening. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. Honestly, I’ve suspected this for years, but that little moment right there? Total confirmation.”

“Okay, enough,” you said, waving your hands as if to physically push the conversation away. “Let’s focus less on your brother and my nonexistent love life. Let’s get back to your wedding.”

Leslie just smirked, clearly not buying your denial. “Fine, but for the record? He’s totally into you too.”

You gave Leslie a confused look, followed by a doubtful laugh. “Yeah, right?” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Leslie raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your self-doubt. “Why do you think he wouldn’t be into you?” she asked, crossing her arms as if she were gearing up to debate.

You sighed, glancing down at your drink. “I mean…look at him,” you said, gesturing vaguely in Glen’s direction. “He could have literally anyone he wants. Models, actresses, anyone. And I’m just…” You trailed off, shrugging.

Leslie tilted her head, studying you with a knowing smile. “Just what?” she pressed.

“Just me,” you finished weakly, feeling a little silly for saying it out loud.

Leslie let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Okay, first of all, that’s ridiculous. Second of all—” She paused, leaning in slightly for emphasis. “You’re the one he asked to be his date tonight. Not a model, not an actress, you.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the truth of her words. “That’s just because we’re friends,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Friends,” Leslie repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right. Because friends definitely look at each other the way he looks at you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up again. “He does not look at me any type of way,” you insisted, but Leslie wasn’t buying it.

She smirked, nodding toward Glen, who was now making his way across the room in your direction.

“Sure he doesn’t,” she said, her voice teasing. “But just in case you’re still in denial, why don’t you pay attention when he gets over here? You’ll see what I mean.”

Before you could respond, Glen reached the two of you, his presence immediately drawing your attention. 

“Hey,” he said, flashing that easy smile of his. “Am I interrupting something, or can I steal her for a bit?”

Leslie’s grin widened as she gave you a pointed look. “Not at all,” she said sweetly, stepping aside. “She’s all yours.”

You shot her a subtle glare, but Leslie just winked at you before turning to join the rest of the group. As Glen’s attention shifted back to you, your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always seemed to do when he was around.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze flicking over your face as if checking for any signs of discomfort.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just catching up with Leslie.”

“Good,” he said, his smile softening. “She’s been excited to see you. I think she’s secretly more interested in hanging out with you than me tonight.”

You laughed, the sound helping to ease the tension swirling in your chest. “Well, to be fair, I am pretty great,” you teased, falling back into your usual banter with him.

“Can’t argue with that,” Glen said, his tone light, but there was something in his eyes that lingered a little too long, something that made your breath catch just slightly.

The atmosphere shifted subtly as the music transitioned to something slower, a beat just mellow enough to set a softer, almost romantic mood. The chatter in the room seemed to quiet slightly, replaced by the rhythmic sway of the melody. Glen glanced toward the small dance floor, where a few of his friends were starting to pair off, and then turned back to you.

“Come on,” he said, extending a hand toward you, his smile warm and inviting.

You shook your head immediately, taking a small step back. “You know I don’t dance,” you reminded him, your voice firm but playful.

His grin only widened, clearly undeterred. “And you know I don’t take no for an answer,” he teased, stepping closer and gently taking your hand before you could protest further.

“Glen,” you said, a hint of exasperation in your tone, but he was already pulling you toward the dance floor.

“Relax,” he said with a laugh, glancing back at you. “I’ll lead. All you have to do is follow.”

You sighed in resignation, realizing there was no escaping this. When you reached the dance floor, you placed a hand on his shoulder, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his dress shirt. He wrapped an arm securely around your waist, pulling you just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“You’ve done this before,” he said lightly as he started to guide you to the rhythm of the music.

“Once or twice,” you admitted, though you still felt slightly self-conscious. “But I’m warning you—I’m not great at it.”

“You’re doing fine,” he assured you, his voice low and steady, as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Leslie standing by the bar. She was watching you with an unmistakable smirk, her arms crossed in triumph. When your eyes met hers, she gave you a knowing look, the kind that said, See? Told you so.

You rolled your eyes at her and shook your head, trying to silently tell her to knock it off. Glen noticed the exchange, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced over at Leslie and then back down at you. 

“What am I missing?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though your cheeks were already starting to warm.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, his tone teasing now. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Leslie’s just…being Leslie,” you said vaguely, hoping to leave it at that.

But Glen wasn’t letting it go. He tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face as realization started to dawn on him. 

“Wait a minute…” he said, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Is she messing with you about something?”

“Not really,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Not really?” he repeated, clearly unconvinced. His eyes flicked back toward Leslie, who was now openly grinning at the two of you. “Oh, she’s definitely messing with you about something,” he said with a laugh.

You groaned, your head dropping slightly as you muttered, “I’m going to kill her.”

Glen chuckled, his hand on your waist giving a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he said, his tone playful but his smile soft.

For a moment, you forgot about Leslie entirely, your focus shifting back to Glen as you moved together in time with the music. His gaze lingered on you, his expression unexpectedly tender, and you felt your heart skip in a way that made you wonder if Leslie might actually have a point after all.

As the slower song faded out, you felt a moment of relief. But then the next song started, and your heart sank a little as the unmistakable notes of a love ballad filled the air. The kind that spoke of longing and intimacy, the kind that made you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you were still in Glen’s arms.

You glanced up at him, your lips parting to excuse yourself, but before you could step away, his hand on your back shifted, a gentle but deliberate pressure that kept you in place.

“Stay,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Glen, I—” you started, already shaking your head. There was no way you could dance to a love song with your best friend. It felt too…loaded.

“Just one more,” he murmured, and when your eyes met his, whatever protest you had ready fell away. There was something in the way he looked at you—something unspoken but undeniable. It wasn’t just a friendly look. It was softer, deeper, and for a moment, it left you breathless.

You nodded, barely, and he smiled—just a small, private curve of his lips that made your stomach flip.

He pulled you just a little closer this time, close enough that your chest brushed against his. The hold on your back shifted, his hand sliding just slightly lower, resting at the curve where your back met your waist. It wasn’t inappropriate—just enough to feel a little less like friendship and a little more like something else.

Without thinking, you leaned into him, your cheek resting lightly against his chest. His warmth was comforting, grounding, and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm of the song and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

You felt him tilt his head, the faintest brush of his cheek against the top of yours. It was such a small gesture, but it sent your heart into a quiet frenzy, a rhythm that seemed to echo in time with the music.

Neither of you said a word as you moved together, swaying gently to the melody. The first verse passed, then the chorus, and you couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt to be here, like the rest of the world had melted away.

The song came to an end, the final notes fading into a hum of conversation and clinking glasses around you. Glen didn’t move right away, and for a moment, neither did you. You stayed in his arms, feeling the warmth of his hand still pressed against your back, the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

But then someone called his name from across the room, breaking the fragile bubble that had surrounded you both. Glen’s arm slipped away, though his hand lingered on your elbow for a second longer than necessary.

“I’ll be right back,” he said softly, his eyes lingering on yours, as if reluctant to leave.

You nodded, offering a small smile, and watched as he crossed the room to greet a new arrival. The absence of his touch left you feeling untethered, a sudden awareness of just how much you’d let yourself melt into him during that dance.

Needing a moment to collect yourself—and maybe something stronger than a moment of quiet—you made your way to the bar. You ordered a glass of wine and took a steadying sip, trying to push the last few minutes out of your mind.

Of course, Leslie found you before you even made it halfway through your drink.

“So,” she started, leaning casually against the bar with an unmistakable smirk. “That was…something.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the blush already creeping up your neck. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” she asked innocently, though her grin was anything but. “I’m just saying, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother look at someone like that. Or hold someone like that. Or—”

“Leslie,” you warned, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your attempt at composure.

She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “I’m just saying, for someone who insists she doesn’t dance, you looked awfully comfortable out there dancing with my brother.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you replied, taking another sip of your wine in a futile attempt to drown your nerves.

“Doesn’t it?” she countered, raising an eyebrow. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like something more.”

You shot her a sharp look, but she just shrugged, still grinning.

“Relax,” she said, nudging your arm playfully. “I’m not about to make a big announcement or anything. But if you don’t see it yet…” She trailed off, giving you a knowing look before gesturing subtly toward Glen, who was still across the room, laughing with a small group of friends.

You followed her gaze despite yourself, and your heart gave a traitorous little lurch at the sight of him. His smile was easy and charming, but every now and then, his eyes flicked toward the bar, as if checking to see if you were still there.

“See what I mean?” Leslie said softly, pulling your attention back to her.

You shook your head, trying to play it off. “You’re reading into things.”

“Am I?” she challenged, her tone light but her expression serious. “Because I’ve known Glen my whole life, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. So, maybe it’s time you stop convincing yourself it’s all in your head.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you found yourself speechless, staring down into your glass of wine as if it held the answers you were so desperately trying to avoid.

Leslie let the silence linger for a moment before giving your arm another playful nudge. “Just think about it, okay?”

And with that, she pushed off the bar and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts—and the undeniable truth you were no longer sure you could ignore.

You stepped away from the bar, glass of wine in hand, and gravitated toward a quieter corner of the rooftop. The laughter and conversation from the party grew softer with every step, the music fading into a pleasant hum in the background. A gentle breeze brushed against your skin as you approached the railing, the Los Angeles skyline glittering like a sea of stars before you.

You leaned against the cool metal and took a slow sip of your wine, your thoughts drifting back to Leslie’s words. Was she onto something? No, she couldn’t be. Glen was your best friend, the one constant in your life through every twist and turn. You would know if he felt something for you… right?

But then again…

You sighed and rested your elbow on the railing, pressing your glass lightly to your lips. Leslie had known Glen her entire life. If anyone could read him, it was her. And the way she spoke—like she’d been holding onto this knowledge for a while—left you with an uncomfortable sense of doubt.

Could she be right? Could you really have missed something that big?

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled you from your thoughts. You looked over, expecting another party guest, but instead, you found Glen standing beside you. The velvet tuxedo jacket was now off, and his hair was a little mussed from probably running his hand through it one too many times, but his smile was warm and familiar.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning casually against the railing next to you. “You okay?”

You managed a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, just needed a breather.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze calm and steady, before arching a brow. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Leslie pestering you at the bar, would it?”

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched with the hint of a smile. “No.”

“Uh-huh,” Glen said, clearly not buying it. “Because Leslie may or may not have told me to come find you.”

Your heart gave a jolt, and you turned to look at him. “She what?”

“She didn’t say why,” Glen added quickly, holding up a hand as if to reassure you. “But… she said…enough.”

“Enough?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

He hesitated, his smile fading into something softer, something more sincere. “Enough to make me realize I’ve been putting this off for too long.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Glen stepped closer. His eyes searched yours, as though he were trying to gauge your reaction before saying anything else. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, his voice low. “For coming with me tonight. For being here for me—not just tonight, but always.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. There was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, that made your heart beat just a little faster.

“And I need you to know,” he continued, taking another step closer, “how much you mean to me.”

The space between you was nearly nonexistent now, and for a moment, neither of you said a word. His eyes searched yours, his hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should.

You felt it then—that shift Leslie had hinted at, the one you’d been too afraid to fully acknowledge. This wasn’t just your best friend standing in front of you. This was Glen, the man who had been at your side for years, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

He took a deep breath and leaned in slightly, pausing when your noses were almost touching. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

Instead, you met his gaze, your heart thundering in your chest.

Glen’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and then his eyes fluttered shut as he raised a hand to your face. His palm was warm as it cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You closed your eyes just as his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though he was afraid you might pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and placed a hand lightly against his chest, he deepened the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

The world around you faded—the music, the laughter, the skyline. All that mattered was the way Glen’s lips moved against yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath as you both stood there, processing what had just happened. Glen’s hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing soft, absentminded circles against your skin. Your heart raced, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the surreal, breathtaking reality of the moment.

Finally, Glen broke the silence, his lips curving into that familiar, playful grin that always managed to put you at ease. “So…” he began, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intensity from before. “Does this mean you’ll let me take you to next year’s Globes too?”

The laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, breaking the tension in the most perfect way. You shook your head, resting your forehead against his chest as a smile spread across your lips. “We’ll see if you behave, Cowboy.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rested. “Behave? I’m a perfect gentleman,” he said, his voice tinged with mock indignation.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arching a brow. “Oh, really? Perfect gentlemen don’t usually kiss their best friends on rooftops in the middle of a party.”

His grin widened as he shrugged, his hand still resting lightly on your waist. “Maybe I got tired of being just your best friend.”

Your breath caught again at the sincerity in his tone, the way his teasing words carried so much truth. Glen had always been charming, always quick with a joke or a flirtatious comment, but this felt different. This felt real.

You didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say, but instead of pushing, Glen just smiled and leaned down to press a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead. And with that, he stepped back slightly, though his hand still lingered on your waist, as if to let you know that even with the space between you, he was still there, still yours.

You tilted your head back to look up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but all you saw was sincerity. The smile that still lingered on his lips wasn’t one of teasing; it was genuine, like he was relieved to have crossed that line with you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you confessed, your voice quieter than usual. “This is... a lot to take in, you know?”

Glen nodded, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your dress, a small gesture that seemed to ground you. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, “I get it.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he added, “But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for a brief moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself truly hear what he was saying. The uncertainty that had clouded your mind earlier began to dissipate, replaced by something far more powerful—trust.

“I just don’t want to mess things up, Glen,” you admitted, looking up at him again, your voice low but clear. “We’ve been friends for so long. I don’t want to lose that.”

His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb now tracing along your jawline as he spoke, his voice steady. “We won’t lose it,” he promised, his gaze never leaving yours. “I wouldn’t let that happen. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, the sincerity in his words making your heart swell. “Okay,” you whispered, the word feeling like a vow in the quiet space between you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, as if the world had paused just for you two. It was peaceful, despite everything—the chaos of the party, the swirling emotions inside you. Glen was here, right in front of you, and he was offering you something more. Something you hadn’t expected but couldn’t deny.

Then, in the silence that followed, he grinned, that familiar playful glint returning to his eyes. “So, does this mean you’ll let me take you on a date?”

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him, and couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes twinkled with excitement. He was waiting, his expression open and genuine, and suddenly, it didn’t feel like anything was uncertain anymore. The nerves, the doubts—they melted away in the warmth of his gaze.

"Yeah," you said softly, your voice filled with the quiet confidence that had come from years of friendship and, somehow, this unexpected moment. "I'd like that."

His smile deepened, and for a second, it was as if time stood still. He reached out, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face, his hand lingering on your cheek.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. It wasn’t rushed, nor was it shy. It was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours. You both stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, as if savoring the moment before the world could rush back in.

"Come on," Glen said, pulling you gently by the hand, “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

As he led you back toward the party, his fingers intertwined with yours, and the moment felt complete. You’d crossed the line, yes, but it was the best kind of line to cross—one that made you excited for whatever came next.

You shared one last look, a silent promise between you two, before re-entering the party, side by side, ready for whatever the night—and your future—held.

[puma-riki]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 𝒜 𝐻 𝓊 𝓃 𝒹 𝓇 𝑒 𝒹 𝒮 𝓁 𝑒 𝑒 𝓅 𝓁 𝑒 𝓈 𝓈 𝒩 𝒾 𝑔 𝒽 𝓉 𝓈

۶ৎ ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴇᴇꜱᴇᴜɴɢ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

୨ৎ 𝒮 𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈 ~ Heeseung accidentally lets his secret slip in his sleep

𖹭 𝒢 𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 ~ Fluff a smidge of angst

𖹭 𝒲 𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ~ Not proofread Heeseung has a bit of self-doubt (just a lil)

𖹭 𝒜 𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝒩 𝑜𝓉𝑒 ~ take this draft while I work on the next riki smau update. The next update is written so if it's not perfect I can't post it BEAR WITH ME. I got this idea from a TikTok abt ppls fiancée's being incredibly nervous before proposing and being painfully obvious about it LMAO

── .✦

Heeseung was exhausted.

He trudged through the door of your apartment, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft thud. The weight of the day pressed on his shoulders like a lead cloak he couldn't shrug off. His muscles ached from the hours of dance practice, and his throat was raw from recording in the studio. Even though the day had been long, his mind wasn't on the new choreography or the endless takes of content they had filmed.

It was on you.

As he slipped off his shoes at the door and padded into your room, his thoughts swirled. The small velvet box in his bag felt heavier than it should, tucked carefully between a change of clothes, and a water bottle. He dropped the bag onto the floor by the nightstand, staring at it for a moment before carefully pulling out the box.

He opened it, letting the dim light of the room catch the sparkle of the diamond. It sparkled like a fragment of a star

Is this enough?

The question struck him like it had every night since he bought the ring. Heeseung thumbed the velvet edges of the box, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You're going to say yes... right?

He closed the box with a snap, shaking his head to clear the self-doubt. Heeseung loved you more than anything and he wanted this moment to be perfect for you-- a story you'd both tell for years. But as much as he tried, nothing felt good enough.

His mind replayed the day's events as he stepped in the shower, hoping the warm water would wash away his worries. Hours spent perfecting choreography, filming promotional content with the guys, then heading straight to the studio to work on their upcoming track. By the time they had wrapped up, it was already close to midnight. He'd pushed himself through the day, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and nerves, but as he went through his nighttime routine alone in your apartment, he felt the exhaustion set in.

Still, his thoughts were restless. He had written about a million things he could say to you, to lay his heart bare in front of you, and none of them felt right. His notes app was flooded with scrapped speeches and unfinished confessions.

You deserved a proposal straight out of a movie. Everything down to the time he popped the question, had to be perfect. He thought about proposing on New year's, but was he about to share what was supposed to be your guy's day with the whole world?

Absolutely not.

The place had to be stunning. Should he take you to dinner? One of the really fancy and expensive ones? Maybe not, that was too cliche.

The place you first met? Or maybe on a beach? No, it was too cold for the beach around this time of year. You'd probably like a smaller and more intimate place anyway.

But the scariest part was this:

Would you even say yes?

He was ready to wife you up the moment you laughed at one of his dumb jokes-- one that wasn't even funny-- and then you told him he was stupid right after, but you said it in a way that gave him heartburn.

He was ready, but are you? Did you even think he was husband material?

He had reached out to your family after he bought the ring. The gentlemanly thing to do was to get permission from your parents before he asked, of course, he would've married you whether they gave him permission to or not. They were enthusiastic about it. They had been sending him praise and encouragement over the phone since he last called, saying you'd definitely say yes and more than happy.

But they weren't you.

Heeseung groaned and covered his face with the towel he'd been using to dry his hair. He needed to go to bed.

Now showered and dressed in pajama pants and a sleep shirt, he tucked himself under the cool covers of the bed. Your side was empty, and he didn't like how cold it felt. He checked his phone.

1:03 AM

You had told him earlier today that you would be out late with your friends. Much to his disappointment, he would have to go to bed alone. He'd be asleep when you got home and probably be up before you for work.

Heeseung put his phone down on the nightstand to charge and turned to your side of the bed. His eyelids felt heavy, and his worries and doubts were starting to become muffled as he sank into the plush mattress.

--

1:47 AM

You quietly crept into your bedroom, heels in hand to make sure you made as little sound as possible. The apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the steady rhythm of Heeseung's breathing. You glance over at the bed. He left his bedside lamp on, something he usually does when he knows you'll be coming home late. He's sprawled out on the bed, one arm thrown over his face as if shielding himself from dreams.

Your heart melts at the sight and a soft smile tugs at your lips as you move to the bathroom. The night had been fun, filled with laughter and stories from her friends, but this moment was your favorite part of the day. When you come home to Heeseung.

Once you freshen up, rid of makeup, and your pretty (but uncomfortable after a few hours) outfit, you turn off the bedside lamp and slide into bed carefully.

The mattress dipped under your weight as you tried to move as slow as possible to not wake him, although you knew how deep he slept after long days like this. Your gaze fell on him again, the dim light from the bustling city behind your window, casting a faint light on his face.

You reached out, fingers brushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes. His chest rose and fell steadily and his body felt warm against yours as you moved closer. His face looked so soft, peaceful in sleep. His lips form a small pout as his cheek lays snugly against the pillow. A pout makes its way onto your face as you trace your thumb over the heavy shadows under his eyes.

Heeseung was always working hard. A little too hard. You could feel the stress radiating off of him the past 2 weeks. You'd boiled it down to him wanting to perform well with their packed schedule. Which is what it usually was, but you had heard that the group was doing just fine balancing everything and had every song and dance down to a T.

There was something else lingering on Heeseung's mind and you couldn't quite figure out what.

"My hard-working man," You murmur, hand resting on his cheek. "You need to rest more." You murmured again under your breath, squishing his cheeks gently between your fingers. He let out a soft snore in response, and you giggled, the cuteness aggression bubbling up inside you.

As you pulled your hand back, he stirred.. "Mmm... perfect." he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

You froze, stifling a laugh. "What's that, Hee?"

"...perfect... has to be perfect..."

You blinked, leaning in closer. "What has to be perfect, baby?" You whispered, brushing your fingers along his temple.

"...proposal.." he muttered, his brows furrowing slightly. "I dunno... if the rings enough... dunno if she'll like it.."

Your breath caught, eyes widening as you realized what he was saying. A flush crept up your cheeks, and you lips curled into a soft smile. "Oh, Heeseung," You murmured, voice barely audible. You seriously wanted to smother him he was so cute.

"She deserves the best... better than me..." His words slurred together, his hand that was resting on your pillow twitching slightly.

Your chest ached at the vulnerability in his voice, even in sleep. You grabbed his twitching hand and held it in yours, placing a kiss on the knuckle of his ring finger. Your thumb gently stroked his skin as you whispered, "You're already the best, silly. Nothing else matters"

"...What if she says.. no"

The words were so soft, almost a whisper, but they broke your heart a little. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead as you blinked back small tears that were starting to form. "You're such an idiot," you whispered against his skin. "I'd say yes to you a hundred times over."

Heeseung sighed in his sleep, his body relaxing against your touch. You laughed quietly to yourself, shaking your head. "My hard-working, overthinking man," Wrapping your arms around him and holding him close to your chest.

5:13 AM

Heeseung stirs awake, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains and painting the room in a golden glow. He blinks a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light, only to find you already awake and tracing the bridge of his nose with your pointer finger.

"Hi," he mumbled, his voice raspy with sleep.

"Hi," Your voice was so quiet, he would've missed it if he wasn't so close to you. A small grin formed on his face as his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Were you watching me in my sleep, you weirdo?"

You smiled softly, a quiet laugh threatening to fall from your lips. "Maybe, You're cute when you're asleep."

"Oh, yeah?" Heeseung smirked, his hand slipping under your shirt to pinch your side, earning a squeal from you. "And what about when I'm awake?"

You squirmed in his hold, laughter spilling out of you as you tried to push his cold hand away from you," You're quite annoying actually."

"Rude." He mumbled, relenting and holding you tight against his chest. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart grounded you, your earlier excitement now mingling with contentment.

"Why are you awake so early?" he asked, pressing his chin lightly to the top of your head as he began to play with the ends of your hair.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "I couldn't sleep."

"Couldn't sleep?" Heeseung echoed, his fingers absent mindedly tracing patterns on your back, "Why not?"

"Just... thinking," You murmured, your cheeks warming at the memory of his sleep-talking confession just hours earlier.

He hummed, though his curiosity didn't press. The comfortable silence stretched between you until his voice broke it.

"Hey,"

"Hm?"

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you want to go?"

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your face thoughtful for a moment as you looked off to the side and pursed your lips.

Cute.

Your face softened into a smile as your eyes met his. For a moment, his wide, doe-like eyes shimmered, gazing at you as if you had taken the night sky and laid it at his feet

"Anywhere, as long as I'm with you."

Heeseung blinked, his eyes wide for a split second before he let out a soft laugh, his hand coming up to squish your cheeks.

"You're so corny."

"Hey, you asked," You shot back, though your grin only widened when he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. Then your nose. Then your cheek and your jaw.

"I could also see you blushing" You giggled, face scrunched as he pressed another kiss to your cheek.

"Mmm.. I wasn't blushing." He mumbled into your cheek. His arm holding you impossibly closer to him.

"Yes, you were," You laughed, trying to squirm out of his hold again.

"Prove it then." He challenged pulling away from your face and holding your head close to his neck to prevent you from seeing his face.

"Hey!" Your protests came muffled against his skin and the pillow.

"Shhh, go back to sleep." You roll your eyes but give up anyway. The position you were in was comfortable and heeseung's warmth made your eyelids grow heavy.

"Hey, how do you feel about beaches in the winter?"

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧!)ᯓ★ | @jiiyen @yangjungwonnie @amoressb @sugarikiz @stvrriki

Send and ask or comment on any post of mine to be added to my permanent taglist >:3

𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧ᯓ★

[beesandwasps]

When I got to be a senior at St. Leon’s College, I was given my very own studio. It was a tiny room in a creaky old wooden shedlike building. Here I was to work on my senior project, a series of woodblock prints. I found, left behind by previous inhabitants, a dangerous electric percolator and a squawky old radio. I loved having a studio of my own, and spent most of my time there. I’d arrive at ten or eleven at night and stay till dawn, chiseling away at my woodblocks, swilling black coffee, and listening to the all-night hillbilly station. At sunrise I’d stroll to my room, where I would sleep until lunchtime. I had signed up only for classes that met in the afternoon, and I had time in the evening to socialize and study before retiring to my little workshop. The rest of the college would be sleeping when I was at work, and I had no distractions. I was getting a lot accomplished. It was an ideal routing, and I was happy. It was during this period that the President of the United States was assassinated. Today, documentaries and news retrospectives emphasize the shock and grief felt by the nation — but I also remember the fear and confusion that closely followed the event. At first it was unclear whether or not the assassination was part of a coup or insurrection. News reports were vague and fragmentary. There was speculation as to whether our country’s enemies might not take advantage of the confusion of the moment and attack us. I hovered near the radio and learned of the capture of Oswald and later of his murder before the news cameras. Lyndon Johnson had been sworn in as President. Harry S. Truman flew to Washington, and from the airport, broadcast a statement assuring the country that the orderly succession of government was intact. It was two or three days before the feeling of panic and uncertainty died down. And the whole time, I was listening — while carving away at woodblocks, because there was nothing else to do. I was realizing that events can become ugly with a terrifying suddenness — and that I, personally, had nothing to contribute in times like these. There were advisors in Southeast Asia. There was a wall in Berlin. We had nearly had a nuclear war over missiles in Cuba. People were being fire-hosed and police-dogged in the South. Now someone had knocked off the First Citizen of the Republican — and I was learning to do what? I was learning to make things for rich people to decorate their apartments with. I felt useless and stupid. As the assassination hysteria subsided, I continued to come to the studio, but it seemed to me an empty exercise. Worse, a mockery. In times like these, the last thing needed was a little more art. Then, one 2:00 A.M., a fellow student dropped in to see me. Jerry Schwartz was his name. I knew him by sight, but had never spoken with him. He had something to tell me. It seemed Schwartz had gone through a period of living the life of a swine. He had been in the habit of coming home drunk at approximately the same time every morning. And every morning, he’d see the light in my studio, and through the window, me, doing… he didn’t know what, but there I was doing it. He felt that here was at least one person doing something probably constructive — anyway, functioning. It somehow meant to him that there was hope for him too. In the parlance of Alcoholics Anonymous, the image of the light in my studio window had become his higher power, had kept him from despairing, motivated him to try to straighten out — and, as he told it, may have prevented his taking his own life. I thought he was probably exaggerating, but I couldn’t take the chance. Now I had to show up every night, and work on my woodcuts in order not to let down this formerly miserable Schwartz. I didn’t see Schwartz again, but I finished out the year and got my degree. And gradually I became convinced that the best way I could address the big evils of the big world would be to keep chipping away and something comparatively small.

— Daniel M. Pinkwater (from Chicago Days, Hoboken Nights)

[thewertsearch]

@necrowyrm asked: happy new year!!! enjoy the last little bit of homestuck before act 6! Anonymous asked: You have NO IDEA how much I was looking forward to your reaction to this flash :D @teddy-bearer-of-bad-news asked: a very late congratulations from me for making it this far! i gotta say, saving CASCADE for new year's is probably the smartest thing i've heard all week. may your experience be nothing short of righteous, comrade Anonymous asked: Cascade … Even years latter knowing it almost by heart, every once in a while I will take a little quarter of an hour to rewatch it, Say what you want about Hussie but there is a good reason Homestuck became so iconic. @adeptarcanist asked: The leadup to Cascade was honestly my favorite sequence in Homestuck, and maybe one of my favorites in any media ever? The way the narrative splits apart into all of the different scenes swirling in towards the critical moment, both advancing main plots and finding time to spend a moment of melancholy with characters who’d been left behind (The Jaspers and Nepeta scene :( )… it’s such a strong narrative device, and the tone it generates is impeccable. @calamitascalliope asked: I literally watched the flash again, and it still gives me chills every single time. Welcome to your post-Cascade life. You won't be able to think about anything the same ever again @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: "she looks so cool… but she’s so tragic… but she looks so cool…" has become a brainworm for me. i too love the handmaid's design btw, cascade time has been i think the most anticipated non-personal event of the entire year for me. i'm so excited @publicuniversalworstie asked: I want you to know that I also opened Cascade and started watching with you right after I saw your "oh my god it has chapters" ask, and I finished just as you posted "I will never be the same" !! And I bet lots of other people did too <3 so it's like we all watched it together!!!! Happy New Year and thank you for liveblogging!!!! It's been a pleasure！(and will continue to be) @krixwell asked: I would like you to know that your "Right, we're good to go!" and "oh my god it has chapters" posts were posted right as I was outside watching midnight fireworks ring in 2025 for the Central European timezone. Happy new year! @captorations asked:

hey remember when rose just up and fucking said that. anyway congrats on reaching cascade! it absolutely wrecked me back in the day, i think i stared at those flaming curtains for a solid ten minutes as my brain permanently reconfigured. the first few notes of the track alone still give shivers. getting your reaction to cascade was a wonderful birthday present. (speaking of getting older: aradia 🤝 dulcinea also got that "distressingly short lifespan only to die early anyway" story thread going on. the parallels are paralleling.) anyway happy new year and congrats you are… slightly less than halfway done with homestuck. have fun!

Hey, guys. Cascade was so fucking good.

Like, there's really no competition; this is the best Flash page in the comic thus far. Peak music, peak animation, and absolutely a peak narrative. It tied up mountains of plot threads, providing complete answer to questions we're been asking for literally thousands of pages. It completed over a dozen arcs, both big and small. It made me gasp three times in fourteen minutes. It let Jade become a furry.

11/10, and I'm glad people had as much fun here as I did on New Year's Eve. Happy 2025, and happy Act 6!

@morganwick asked: Sally, predicting Cascade: "I have approximate knowledge of many things." @morganwick asked: "You literally have the whole world in the palm of your hands." -Sally to Jadesprite, December 16, 2024 (You might also want to reread post/770701212350857216 in light of recent developments.)

Hah!

I mean, based on her powerset, it made sense that Jadesprite would do something like this eventually, but it's pretty funny that she did it more or less immediately.

And in the end, CD really was a tricky little bastard. We'll definitely need to keep a closer eye on him, next time around.

Anonymous asked: Take a moment to consider that if anyone were to use the Homestuck website as it stands now instead of the Collection program, Cascade would have been presented in the YouTube player in Standard Definition, artifacted to hell, with a clear boundary showing the dimensions of the video from the very start. Preservation is so important.

Jeez, you're not kidding. The 1080p is fine, I guess, but it certainly doesn't hit like the Flash version does, especially with its lack of moving panels.

I know something had to change when Flash kicked the bucket, but surely there was a better way to preserve the video's soul.

Anonymous asked: to give you some of an idea of what homestuck fandom looked like during this time period, im cribbing from a very popular homestuck post: “first, this upd8 was something that we had been waiting for for WEEKS. A literally unprecedented wait period at the time. We were used to suckling at the teat of daily updates, a constant stream of conversation and plot twists and buildup, and as EOA5, we were finally going to figure out what all these countdowns and plot threads and disconnected elements were building up for. And when the progress bar reached 100%, and when the page FINALLY loaded on 10/25/11, it was chaos. This was 2011, a primetime peak point and growth period of Homestuck fan density.” (…) “MSPA crashed, as it had started to during the last few big [S] updates. Hussie had already bought new servers in advance, but even when allegedly thousands of dollars were spent it couldn't handle the accidental DDOS attack of Homestuck fans. People were up all night waiting for this upd8, the curiosity was killing me. I know at some point he was receiving at least 1 million unique visitors per day to his site [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, upwards of 2 million during this time], and even though Hussie had foreseen such traffic and thusly hosted [S] Cascade on Newgrounds, a dedicated video streaming site, Newgrounds was similarly unprepared for the sheer amount of people frantically mashing the play and refresh buttons, and also crashed. Immediately. MSPA and Newgrounds crashed definitively for at least two nights in a row” (…) “Andrew Hussie has gone on record to say this was one of the few times he thought Homestuck wasn’t worth it, because the sheer unbelievable cost (was it $10,000?) [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, it looked like it was going to cost $100,000 to keep [S] Cascade up for several days] of servers and the chaos of no one able to see the upd8 and crashing nearly every site after. He was tweeting during the whole debacle, stating he was reluctant to put it up on Youtube because of all the moving elements of the flash, and style, and how youtube degraded the quality of the file size, and how he tried to scratch out buffer time and pauses by putting periods of silence between each section of the 14 minute upd8, the longest upd8 yet” “So after Newgrounds patooted, he didn’t put it on youtube and instead put up the entire flash file on Megaupload, where it could be downloaded in it’s entirety to be watched. UNFORTUNATELY, Megaupload also crashed very quickly, which Hussie felt much headache over. But before that happened I managed to get the file, since I happened to be up very early that night! Next it was on dropbox, which didn’t crash but had “link unavailable” on and off. ”Spoilers were flying everywhere, people didn’t understand everything that had happened, and by the time the timeline of events in and out of [S] Cascade was all straightened out, people became even MORE hype. Like this whole thing lasted at least four days, and on top of that, the upd8 was good. Fandom exploded.” it is impossible to quantify the experience. The fact hussie was going to have to fork over A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS to host it is crazy. I am never going to be over it.

Cascade's complete obliteration of the Flash-hosting internet says a lot about huge Homestuck truly was - but I think an even bigger indicator of the comic's success is the fact that Hussie dropped literally thousands of dollars on server upgrades to host the thing. That's not an investment you make unless you're expecting some serious returns.

[dunmeshistash]

...how long does mana sickness last? for marcille it seemed like a game-ender for her, she seemingly couldn't recover in a week's time without drinking the undine, but mithrun just straight up is better in like. A day? An hour?(at thistles house) is he just built different? Maybe more offensive magic like marcille's explosions make it harder for you to recover?

In that case it wasn't mana sickness it was loss of magic power

"Couldn't recover in a week's time" she probably could! But they were rushing to save Falin, and they had to survive in the dungeon while she recovered, they already had a party that was too small and were getting deeper into more dangerous parts of the dungeon, they wouldn't have been able to keep going with Marcille not being able to fight that's why Laios wants her to go back

This is the timeline of events of this part, drained of magic on 3/22 and having to fight the dragon on 3/24 barely a day to rest, she would be in a weakened state in a deep dungeon floor and would have to fight the dragon (here's the timeline I'll be using if you want to check)

She even gets drained again after fighting Thistle, they fight thistle on 3/25 and by 3/28 when they find the Dryads she's still too weak to fight, but the next day (after a good meal) she's okay enough to fight the Cockatrice (she gets petrified but cant blame lack of magic it was lack of Laios)

Now for the Mithrun timeline, he faints from lack of magic after they eat the roasted walking mushroom and rest for a bit (I imagine he was already with low magic before from the floor one fight and then teleporting them around to stop the fall and overworked himself?) that was on 4/4

The next day he continues to be weak and faints just from teleporting them away from the wolves so he's still drained

The next day he's once again forced to use magic to teleport the griffin away, he manages not to faint but he's clearly still unwell

The day after that he doesn't need to use magic they just need to take a bath to get rid of the mushroom spores, and finally the next day they're rescued

So he first faints on 4/4 joins with the canaries on 4/8 and they only arrive at thistle's on 4/13 I believe. So he had at least 9 days from the first time he ran out, he was still VERY weak in the next few days after fainting which would be the situation Marcille would have been in for the Dragon fight if she hadn't eaten the undine.

He doesn't get drained after this does he? After fighting Marcille for the first time Kabru does say this, but he's not drained he's "on the verge"

After that Mithrun was "forced to rest" for a bit before fighting again so maybe not being fully drained and resting helped him have enough for that last hurrah when fighting Marcille?

Just checked their fight and he only uses magic to heal himself once and then one other time to teleport, even Marcille calls his bluff, that was probably his last drop now that I notice

But even with all that Mithrun is stronger than Marcille (The canaries are specialized in defeating dungeons after all they're all strong and used to combat), Kabru even mentions he has lots of stamina for an elf. They aren't really eating well these few days waiting for rescue so I imagine this contributes to why it took him a while to get better during that, he's also used to forcing himself to the extreme so even if he is almost running out in the Marcille fight he would force himself to the last drop (as he does)

Anyway, maybe it seemed like he recovered super fast during ch62 since it all happens in one chapter but it actually takes him a couple of days to get back to 100%

[scara-writes]

100% perfect

GN!Esper!Reader x Y!Guide!Male OC

Note: hello im back. A lot happened, I had an anxiety attacks, my mind has been having a lot of bad thoughts, my dog passed away last year—three months ago... I didn't have a lot of time for me to write since I've been grieving for my dog's death up until now but I'm okay, I'm healing... Anyway, my writings is rusty and probably didn't improve. I know some of you guys really tried to reach out through ask and I'm kind of happy. Thanks. For now I'll give this to piece of one shot for a new year. This Esper x Guide thing I made might not be accurate. All i know is they are similar to Alpha x Omega shits except the curse thing on espers. This might be cringe. i will try to edit it. I will try to update the other oc's as well.

-also please do not do this, i do not condone anything in this story. This is purely fiction and be kept as a fiction.

CW: implied se(g)s, implied suicide(mention), yandere, drugging, manipulation, dynamic power, etc.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"(Y/n)!!" A ginger haired male rush up to you, hugging you by the time you step on the greenery field of the university. Pastel blue of sweater was the first thing you see before you were envelope by a hug. You tense when his arms coils around your waist, hearing him breathe out of relief as he buries his face on your left shoulder. 

You don't know what to do everytime he does this. There were eyes everywhere and it doesn't seem like he is bothered by it.

Of course why would he?

Micah Clarke is not only popular and prettiest student in this campus. He is known for being famous as the youngest champion of ice skating 3 years ago, defending his title until now. His luscious natural lips, his hazel eyes that could make you halt on what you were doing, the type to make yourself give him a third glance because he is so pretty. So pretty that you sometimes envy his glassy skin, igniting a insecurities to yourself. His soft curly ginger hair and freckled face that matches his glossy alabaster complexion. The type of guy who prefers cute, pastel than those typical guys—omg so unique(lol)—that always choose to wear dark or dull colors. Everyone finds him attractive including yourself. Everything about him screams beauty and elegance. He can hook up with men and women if he wants to but he chose not to.

From what you heard, he is a rare S-rank Guide. Most espers would try hook up with him atleast make a contract with someone like him. He would rather spend his time painting his nails, crochetting, organising or planning his time, practicing his amazing skills on ice skating, or rather do hundred routine for his skincare than hook up with other people. Quirky, Alright. Still, this doesn't stop people from wanting to go between his pants and his fame.

To people he is a swan. He is epitome of perfection.

You always see him pass by to your department, always getting called by the principal,inviting him to do a photoshoot, using his face as an advertisment for upcoming enrollent or any event inside the university. You never dwell yourself to swoon on to him whenever he pass by. Fine, you do like him. But not the kind of like where you are romantically interest to him. You just admire his looks, his talents and that's about it. You just don't like he was too friendly, there's nothing wrong with that but invading someone else personal bubble space—and the feeling of shame on yourself for being near someone kind as him—as if you two are already close is not your thing to a person you rarely talk to. Unlike him, you are the quite the opposite when it comes to socialising,You like being alone, you aren't anti-social, atleast, that's what you think you are. You are confident by yourself. An Introvert.

You just like the silence. It eases your deteriorating mind—(stupid esper curse) Somewhere peace and quiet,reading books, listening to music—gosh laufey and wave to earth and even (favorite singer/composer) always sound so good, spending time with your pets, to drown out insanity voices piling up in your head. Although you just have a few friends, you love to be alone. You once dream about getting a job. To work hard and earn a good money, once you have enough money. You would spend it to buy a house and lot somewhere away from the city and nearby the countryside with a small farm. Letting your family and friends to visit you time to time in occassions. Where you can spend the rest of your life alone and happy. A dream that would be come true if only you didn't awakened as an esper after you reach 18.

As for the guy who has the entire school and other people folded for him. He is choosing you to lend his attention, to a person who doesn't like attention. So why was he talking to someone who is a nobody like a B-rank Esper like you? The only interaction you had with him before he let himself in your life was when you pull him away from the bridge—you didn't know him at that time—a few exchange greeting—which of course he would be the first one to initiate it—and.... The party....

"N-ngh!!!" A whiny moan escape his lips. Your lips were on his neck drinking each of his soft sound coming from his mouth. The blaring party background can be ignore in the background thanks to the closed lock door of this room the both of you are in.You bite and nip his skin as if animal marking its prey. You didn't care if you torn his shirt, you just needed his guide seep through more, letting your body gone addicted to him. "(Y-y/n)!" The whay he whimpered your name made you groaned. The way every pulse from his body sends his guiding through your body.  You were delirious, you can't resist him—

"Missed you! Why aren't you checking my messages? You know I got worried when you didn't reply." He whined, his orbs shows concern and sadness. You look away.

"...hey." you greeted him with quieter tone. You pulled away from the hug not liking the way your body just relaxes everytime his guide powers automatically seeps through your body. You don't hate it but you don't like the way that your body depends on someone just for the sake of being sane and relax.

.... The shame you are feeling over the past few weeks.

You still feel guilty and ashamed about it everytime you remember those memory.

"I... I was busy. Had to do homework. I fell asleep and forgot to charge my phone." You told him. Another excuse. You just put your phone on do not disturb.

You don't have the guts to tell a sweet person like him to leave you alone. Well you did because you are ashamed to face him but he insisted it was never you fault. It always ended up him spending time with you. You can't—you owe him more than anything—Especially now that all people's oggling to you too now that you have the attention of the star. They would try to befriending you so that they could get closer to him.

Gosh, you are getting tired. Why can't people leave you alone?

You missed the old times where you can be at peace. No drama, nowhere near on people who wants attention.

"O-oh. Well that's alright."he chided before grabbing your hands with both of his. His smooth hands rubbing against your ragged callouses. He continued, "well actually I was wondering could you hangout out with me? This friday? I know you don't have schedule at that time since you showed me your schedule—And I want to spend more time with you!" He beamed. His smile was out of this world and it blinds you.

"I uhh .. have a plan on that time..." You words went silent as soon as your eyes sees the smile from his lips slowly fell down to his face."really?" The grip on your hands were getting uncomfortable.

"Umm.... I just wanna be on my home and well—"He gasped, his smile is coming back on his symmetrical face as he clung to your right arm."oh! Why didn't you say so? We can hangout together in your home!"

Giddy, he press his front closer to you which made you feel suffocating. His guide power automatically seeps through you again.

"N-no, Mikah... What I meant to say is I plan to rest, like spend alone on that day. A peace and quiet." You slowly pull away your hand gently from his clinging hands.

You didn't expect he would react like this. Tears are already in the corner of his eyes. His lips quivering. "W-what? Are you saying that I'm boring, I-I'm too loud? Did I do something wrong?"

The people who were eavesdropping at your conversation sent a glare and unwanted resentment towards you. 

You quickly shook your head. Your free hand clasping against his clutching ones that is gripping your poor unavailable hand. "No... It's not like that. You didn't do anything wrong.. I just want a me time... You know when... Uhhh before you and I become friends.... I just want to relax by myself.... You're a good friend and a good company but... We've been hanging out for a while... Ummm w-what I'm trying to say is... I want some time to be alone. You... You know what I mean right?"

Micah gave you a blank stare. You were getting uneasy. You bite your inner cheek. Will he lash out? He never seem to be the person who never received a refusal on his entire life. As soon as 2 seconds has passed, you noticed his eyes were akin to sadness. You feel the guilt running up to your spine.

You tried to avoid his gaze looking straight his frowning lips before getting replace by a forced grin. "Oh! I get that! You wish a time for yourself! Self care stuff in all that!" 

Your heart beats a little faster in excitement, is he finally leaving you for a bit? You were about to thank him for understanding. He does l—

"B-but!!" He grabbed your hands again.

You internally groan. Does he even know the word no? Of course he don't.

He never had someone says no to him. Everything he request would be at his feet. You can't yell or be rude. That's not in your nature and plus if you done it. His fans would kill you.

"I need to be with you o-on friday! You know... I wanna spend my birthday with you.. P-please? your presence alone is enough a gift for me." He stammers. You blink in surprise. "I-I promise I won't bother you the next day if you really wanna spend t-time for yourself..."

Birthday?

"T-to be honest.... I don't like parties uhmm..." He lick his lips as if the word 'party' is a taboo between the two of you." Especially my birthday parties because a-although people greet me a happy birthday or any party occasion and stuff they never really mean it. They... Always use that as an excuse to use me for my fame or my money that I earned so hard in those competitions... I.. I plan to not throw one b-because m-my family isn't forcing me anymore... I just want to spend my birthday w-with you. Y-you're the only d-decent person who treated me normally."he stammer.  You feel a lump on your throat when he says you're a decent. "I... I know... Umm I'm asking to much f-from you and I know... you didn't mean to do that—" he continues to rambles that some of his words can't form a right sentence. You noticed his eyes were in the verge of tears, threatening to drop from his eyes. 

"I'm.... Not a decent person." You told him looking away from him, ashamed and hurt were written in your face.Your voice grew quiet but the man Infront catch on what you said, already refering to the 'incident' between the two of you. He bit his lower lips and almost yelled. His face pull out a sad look. It made him look cute if it's from a tears of joy."Y-you are ! You are a decent person! You know it's not your f-fault! You were d-drugged a-and I... I was drunk! W-we both know we weren't in o-our right minds! You never hurted me—!" He starts hiccuping. "You're a-a good person! W-what happened between that night s-should b-be buried! Y-you're a good friend! It's not your fault! It's not your f-fault!" With that he burst into tears.

You didn't expect for him to cry. You panic mentally. What should you do on these type of situations? You pull him for a hug—albeit stiffeningly."Ok... Ok... Don't cry.... I don't like it... When you cry.. I'm sorry." You told him honestly, truthfully this is not the first time he argued about the incident with you.

You still feel ashamed of yourself. You really do. 

The party. If only you didn't come to your friend's party. The guilt won't eat you. No matter how many times Micah convinced you that none of it was your fault. You feel like you can't face him. He did say he was also drunk at the time but still... You could have gotten home earlier and didn't force yourself on him.

You cried and apologised so many times from him at that time, swearing you will turn yourself over to the police and never let him see your face again. You saw how his whole body was full of marks, hickeys, and bruises. He look like he got ravage. His clothes were thorn and you wish the drug in your system that time killed you.

Micah's eyes light up and a smirk forming from his lips as he nuzzle his face on your neck, pretending to cry even more. Everything is planned, everything worked for him to get you under his palm. He can feel the guilt eating you. 

"... it's okay... Hik... " He sob sneaking in to kiss your neck. You are to busy awkwardly and hesitantly patting his back and hugging him and the man love every second of it.

From the moment you save him from jumping off the bridge, he needed to make you his. Someone who genuinely cares for him from this greedy world is something he needed to treasure.

Oh how he had you wrap around his fingers the moment you accepted that drug-disguise juice from one of his friends offered by the man himself. It's your fault.

It doesn't matter. You're under his palm forever. Everything is 100% perfect.

[floraleevee]

Caveats/notes:

Many growers have reported success with “ZeroWater” filters. Not recommended if you have a lot of plants, as you’ll burn through filters quickly (but if you do, you probably already know all this). Additionally, ZeroWater filters have a tendency to FLOOD your water with nutrients when the filter is old (like, higher TDS than normal tap water). So highly recommended to have a TDS meter to make sure it’s still good. Tbh I’d just get distilled at the store, but some growers prefer this option 🤷

There are cheap RO systems that hook up to sinks. I’ve used an RO Buddy for over 5 years without having to replace any of the filters. Since I used to have hundreds of carnivorous plants for the majority of that time, that’s pretty dang good. I think I was going through ~10 gallons a week during my peak years, though am down to 4 gallons a week now. iirc it cost about $60. I don’t use the optional 4th filter, as it’s unnecessary and is so fine that the flow rate is reportedly abysmal. I will say the RO Buddy is fairly slow when using a sink - I get about 1 gallon every 15 minutes. The RO buddy generally can hook up to kitchen sinks in the US just fine, but idk about outside the US. Additionally, I’ve found it doesn’t work on bathroom sinks. You can get a cheap adapter at a hardware store for like $5, though, and then can use your bathroom.

Deionized water is good too. Most people probably don’t have access to it, which is why I’m guessing bogleech didn’t mention it. But if you work in a lab you may have access to deionized water.

Some people collect the condensation from their a/c units. Don’t ask me how, I don’t know.

Be careful with rainwater. Some roofs are treated with chemicals that over time begin to leach out. Nothing too terribly harmful for the native plants around your house, but can reportedly kill carnivorous plants.

I just want to reiterate bogleech: Not all wetlands are equal! Even if you do have a bog nearby, I highly recommend not using that water. For one, bogs are extremely sensitive and it’s generally recommended you don’t step in one if you can avoid it. I’ve done conservation research in bogs and had to submit my plans to the land manager, who came back to me and said “you’re permitted to access this small portion of the bog. That’s all I’m willing to sacrifice for research”. Because, yeah, they are THAT sensitive. Also, there are gonna be potential pathogens in the water that you don’t want on your plants.

You actually can get away with tap temporarily. If the options are “let my plants dry up and die of thirst” or “water with tap water”, give them tap. As soon as possible, flush their pots/soil with DI/RO water. If your plants are in trays/nested pots, don’t let the water collect in them when flushing. Growth will likely be stunted for several weeks/months as the plants work to regrow their damaged roots, but stunted growth is better than dead. This is highly variable between taxa, with at least one study showing Sarracenia having some of the most resilient roots (though anecdotally I’ve heard Nepenthes hold up fairly well as well).

Related to the last point: some people live in areas with really low TDS tap water. Generally, this seems to be from people that use well water rather than city water. Again, TDS meters (total dissolved solids meters) are a handy tool. The lower the TDS the better, with consensus being that ~50 ppm* is the upper limit (again, anecdotes from growers report Nepenthes can actually handle a bit higher, but those are circumstantial and I wouldn’t risk it) * it might actually be parts per thousand. My TDS meter is already set to the units I need, so I don’t remember which. Sorry 😅

I highly, HIGHLY recommend anyone looking to grow carnivorous plants read The Savage Garden by Peter D’Amato. There’s a good chance you’re going to mess something else up with your plant(s). Carnivorous plants are extremely sensitive to other factors, such as soil type and (in the event of pathogens) fungicides/pesticides/miticides. Most want more sun than you think they do. Peter’s book is incredibly well detailed and organized, so you can easily find whatever info you need. I’ve also found most libraries carry it both physically and digitally, and both types of copies are generally not checked out.

Every day in carnivorous plant groups someone asks why their carnivorous plant died and reveals that they used pond water, or filtered tap water, or mountain spring water.

Carnivorous plants cannot adapt to anything but water with the properties of fresh condensation. This is ABSOLUTELY INFLEXIBLE, there is no wiggle room, you cannot get away with giving them the wrong water, not temporarily, not even once!

The only sources for this water are:

Bottled water with "distilled" on the front label, and no other different wording, no "purified" or "spring!"

Water from a reverse osmosis filter. Not a brita filter or any other filter! A reverse osmosis filter is a large expensive system, so no filter you just plug onto your tap will count.

Fresh rainwater that has not touched soil, ie collected in a plastic tub.

Water from a natural bog, which is a very specific type of wetland and very rare in most of the world!

[lanalosty0uu]

⋆.˚ chapter i: ahoy! ᝰ.ᐟ

🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

warning: slight cussing, time travel confusion.

main masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

The next day you wake up, you felt weird textures coming up to your nose. It felt like… dust. You woke yourself up by sneezing hard, first sneeze of the day. What else felt off? It was your room that was being quiet different… Scratch that, it was completely different from when you slept on last night. The room that Mrs. Byers made you sleep in for the rest of your exchange days, the once nice purple room with soft bed, now turned into a horrifying, messy, and filled with dust.

You unlocked your phone to look for any notifications

9.13 P.M. Friday, 27th June 2025 No new notifications

P.M? But the sun is literally shining outside? And Friday is yesterday... Today's supposed to be Saturday? Things are starting to feel off, so you stood up and went out of the house.

The once beautiful house seems to be... Abandoned, now. All glass are falling out of it's place, boards covering some of the window and doors. It looks like there's no one ever lived on this place. You kept looking around in confusion as you went out of the house, coughing like a sick maniac.

"What the hell?"

You started walking down the neigborhood, passing all these big houses along the way. This still looks like Hawkins, though... But, something feels different. Seeing all the people dress weirdly like they're in some kind of cosplay event.

As you kept walking, the town starts to get crowded. Looking at these people give you the creeps, but what actually gives you the chills are the fact that lots of people stare at you as you walk. You don't feel like you're dressing weird, you feel normal. Black T-shirt, baggy jeans, and red converse, with a dark red flannel, yet these people just can't take their eyes off your, like you just comitted some murder.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✧˖°.

You saw a building in front of you.

STARCOURT MALL

A neon sign says above the mall's entrance. The neon signs was already lit up even though it was still... Probably like 10 or 11 A.M? You don't really know what time is it now, since the clock on your phone basically stopped at 9 at night.

The whole vibe of the mall felt off. It’s like… you’re in the backrooms… Might as well watch too much TikTok videos, you thought. But, you were actually convincing yourself that al this doesn’t seem right. It felt like a dream. Well, at least your phone’s clock stopping is a sign that you’re dreaming, it doesn’t make any sense, right?

The mall was filled with people and shoppers of all ages, it was like the mall was just opened a couple of days ago. You really want to ask the people here about where you are and why do these people dress weirdly.

scratch that.

You only want to ask about where you are right now. Even though this whole places does look like Hawkins, but it doesn’t feel like Hawkins. Sadly, your urge to ask the people around you isn’t strong enough, compared by how these people look like they’re enjoying their time at the mall. You don’t wanna be some party pooper who just ask random people a nonsense question and ruin their mood. Until finally, you found a not-so-busy ice cream store.

The yellow colored sign with blue background, that was surrounded by red light edges says

SCOOPS AHOY ice cream parlor

You saw a guy, leaning on the counter, as if he’s so done with his job. You decided to ask the guy about your question(s) earlier since he doesn’t look so busy.

“Ahoy, there! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain… I’m Steve Harrington.”

His sudden ice cream jingle scared the shit out of you, it made you widening your eyes at him.

“Hi, uhm… mind telling me where am i now?”

"You're in Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor, ma'am... How may I help you?" The man answered your stupid question with a bored tone. Geez, he must hate his job so much, huh?

"No, I mean... Where am I excatly now?"

The man in front of you squinted his eyes, like he's being suspicious with me.

"You're in Hawkins, Indiana. The United States of America." He responded once again, as if I have no idea where Hawkins is. So this is actually Hawkins? Indiana? Why so different?

You looked around the ice cream shop, leaving the man staring at you in confusion. You pay attention to every detail in it like some kind of detective trying to solve a murder mystery, even if you can still feel the man's eyes on you through your every move.

"Ma'am, are you okay? You need help with anything?"

"No, no... I'm fine, don't worry." Your voice says otherwise, though.

Your eyes finally stopped at the box shaped television on the counter, showing a news broadcast about the newly builded mall, this Starcourt Mall.

"...the year 1985 will surely be a memorable year for us, the people of Hawkins, getting a chance to witness and experience the beautiful Starcourt Mall..."

You felt like your head was spinning when you hear the words: 1985.

“Ma'am, are you sure you’re okay? or do i need to call a doctor?” His face is fully concerned of your well being right now. Instead of answering him, your eyes travelled from the television back to the man's direction.

“What year is it now?"

“it’s 1985? duh..?”

And that's the moment when you knew.

You are doomed.

note: finally, the first chapter's here! i really, reaaallyyyyy hope y'all like it! i'll make sure to post daily since i also need to catch up with some school stuff here. if there's any confusion about this whole time travel thingy (trust me, i was also pretty confused with my own thoughts) feel free to ask! and feel free to request to be on my taglist! happy reading <3

taglist: @xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse

[hailturinturambar]

Elrond's trajectory in The Rings of Power

This analysis, unlike the others, does not seek to understand a dynamic between two characters. But rather to understand who Elrond Peredhel is and what made him the character we know over the course of two seasons.

To understand who Elrond is and why he acted as he did, we need to go back in time and analyze this character's life. The answers, in general, always lie in the past.

Elrond was born a half-elven son of Elwing, who is the daughter of Dior, who is the son of Lúthien. He was also the son of Eärendil, who is the son of Tuor, who is the son of Huor.

In some narratives, Elrond was born an only child, in others he had a twin brother, Elros. I will analyze through the narrative with Elros, since Elros was important for great future events in Middle-earth.

Elrond's legacy was born of pain and grief. His father, Eärendil, left with his parents (Tuor and Idril) as a child in search of a safe haven. Tuor and Idril fled with the survivors of the Fall of Gondolin.

It is at this time that Eärendil and Elwing's paths cross, as she is fleeing after the destruction of her father and kin at the hands of the Sons of Fëanor. And Elwing had a one of the Silmarils, won by his grandfather, Beren.

When Fëanor's sons destroyed Elrond's home, and his parents were separated from the twins, Elros and Elrond were left alone in the world. However, after growing tired of all the harm they had caused and the weight of their oath, Maedhros and Maglor took the twins in and cared for them.

When the Valar listened to Eärendil and went to war against Morgoth, the Elves were allowed to return to Valinor. Maglor and Maedhros, succumbing to the weight of their oath, met tragic ends, and Elrond and Elros were left alone once more.

But as a reward for the help of Men, and for the half-elven nature of the boys, they were given a choice. Elros, who went with the Men and was numbered among them, went to Númenor and became the first king. Elrond, chose his Elven half and remained in Middle-earth.

To me, this must have been one of Elrond's greatest sorrows. Because he lost his mother, he lost his father. Then he lost the two elves who had cared for him and his brother. And in the end, all he had left was Elros, and he lost him too. Knowing that he would remain in Arda, while his brother would perish.

Thus ends Elrond's days in the First Age. In the Second Age, which we are introduced to in The Rings of Power, we have Elrond much changed, older and even wiser.

Elrond then lives in Lindon, the kingdom of the High Elves, under the command of Gil-galad. Elrond is the king's herald and responsible for the speech in honor of the great heroes who spent centuries hunting Sauron, and one of these is Galadriel, his closest and oldest friend.

Elrond is descended from kings in both his lines, being related to Thingol on his mother's side and to Turgon on his father's side. But his descent does not seem to matter, which makes sense when Elrond lost all his relatives and was left alone, less than a royal heir, more than an outcast.

Elrond is stripped of titles, which is remarkable when he cannot be present at the council, because it is only for Elven Lords. But Galadriel is there and it does not bother him so much. But, I believe deep down, Galadriel's vision worried him.

Galadriel is his beloved friend and he has not seen her for many centuries, but she is very changed. I believe that Elrond feared deeply for her.

Because he knows the shadow that surrounds her, the shadow of an oath made in love, for someone who has been lost. And how much that oath can cost. How much oaths like that have cost Elrond and his family.

In his attempt to help Galadriel, to ease her burden, he pushes her away, and when Elrond can no longer glimpse Galadriel heading towards Valinor, did he feel he was once again left alone in Middle-earth? Probably. Did he feel that the last person he had left had been separated from him for countless years?

Elrond then turns his attention to Celebrimbor, whom the King of Lindon has asked him to help. Elrond readily accepts, this task is a great honor and he accepts it with pride. Elrond has always admired Celebrimbor and he will prove that he is grateful.

Elrond has always admired Celebrimbor's achievements, but to him it is an honor to be able to work with the greatest of the Elven smiths. And Celebrimbor gently reminds him of his father.

And I believe that in that moment, like Galadriel looking upon Finrod, Elrond took it upon himself to protect Celebrimbor and fulfill his father's promise.

Elrond and Celebrimbor cannot build a new forge alone, not in such a short time. And Elrond remembered his great friend, Prince Durin. However, Elrond as an Elf, did not notice the passing of time as Durin. And Durin is heartbroken by Elrond's absence. As Durin says, he lived a whole life in the time Elrond was away.

I believe this is the first moment Elrond realizes how his elven side blinds him to the brevity of life. Elrond spent his entire life surrounded by Elves, eternal beings who would never die except by enemy spear or grief.

Elrond wants to make up for his mistake and assures Durin that it will be different this time. And he means it. Is this the moment when Elrond realizes he is not alone? Galadriel is gone, but he still has friends. He still has Durin. And he also has Disa and Celebrimbor now.

When Sauron spoke about Mirdania remind him of Galadriel, I remembered Celebrimbor noticing the resemblance between Elrond and his father. It's a powerful scene, very beautiful, in my opinion. But a very painful scene too. Because Elrond carries the grief of the loss of his parents, and it's obvious in his personality.

Does Elrond wear clothes that resemble bird wings, like his mother's wings? Elrond, it is important to remember, has a daughter, Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar. The traces of his longing are there, present in everything that represents Elrond. Even in loss, he carries them with him.

So, I believe it was not easy for Elrond to accept Celebrimbor's request. To distrust Durin, to spy on Durin? It is a difficult task. Durin is his last friend and Elrond did not know that by helping Gil-galad, he could be compromising their friendship. Although he is Gil-galad's herald and his subject, Elrond promises to keep Durin's secrets.

But Durin III does not care about Elrond's promises, and Elrond fears that father and son will never understand each other. Elrond does not want Durin to feel what he felt when he lost his father.

Elrond's words about his father are painfully beautiful. And it is the moment of greatest clarification of the character's attitudes to the audience. Because Elrond was shaped by the loss of his parents, his adoptive parents, his brother, Galadriel, so many important people.

And he lives with this motto in his heart, to be good, to be pure, to be worthy of the love and respect of those who have passed away and who perhaps watch him from a distance.

Elrond presents Gil-galad's proposal to Durin and the prince accompanies him to Lindon. But it is not easy for Elrond, being forced to be the spokesman between the two sides, feeling that he is betraying his friend, as well as his kind.

It is a great weight placed on Elrond's shoulders by Gil-galad and Celebrimbor. Must Elrond betray who he is to save his people? Elrond understands the weight of the oath, as his protectors have felt for countless centuries. Because it is not always possible to keep an oath.

Fearing the destruction of the Elves not only of Lindon, but of all Middle-earth, Elrond must swallow everything he believes, everything he has promised and agrees to ask for Durin's help. I believe that Durin knew that Elrond never had bad intentions, and understands the dilemma of his Elf friend.

Elrond sets off for Khazad-dûm with Durin. Durin, like Elrond, needs to honor his oath. An oath that is not always easy, that is not always possible. One of the things I like most about Tolkien/TROP is how sacrifice is always a point, it is always something we do for those we love.

One of the obstacles in Elrond's journey is King Durin III. Durin III is cold and harsh at times, but he is a wise king and is trying to protect his people, fearing that the Elves will take advantage of his people and their resources.

As I see it, when Elrond gets down on his knees and announces his mixed race, Elf and Man, he has never been more like his father. Like his father who in Valinor spoke for the Two Kinds, Elrond does so now. For if the Elves depart from Middle-earth, all will be at risk.

Durin IV helps Elrond as much as he can, but his father and king does not allow Elrond to return and banishes him from all the Dwarves Mountains. When Elrond cries, holding the Mithril, we see how love and friendship are present in his heart.

Did Elrond remember of Maedhros and Maglor? That in the end, they fought for him and Elros, as far as they could bear? It's sad. Elrond's journey is marked by so much suffering and abandonment.

He has no choice but to return to Eregion and warn Celebrimbor. There is nothing the Elves can do and it is time to go home, back to the Realm of Light, where pain and suffering do not exist.

Everything changes for Elrond with the arrival of Galadriel. It is like an explosion of emotions. He has just been forbidden to be with Durin, but his friend has returned to him. He is no longer alone. And Elrond feels a lot of guilt for sending Galadriel away, even though he believed that this could have protected his friend.

Galadriel and Elrond try to find solutions with Celebrimbor, but Galadriel is not alone, she has come accompanied by Halbrand. Elrond had no prejudice against Men, he himself was part Man. Something, however, about Halbrand, never felt right to him.

At this point, Elrond's journey comes to a major halt. In his quest to save the Elves of Middle-earth, they have attracted Evil that should never have returned.

It was undoubtedly difficult for Elrond to realize that despite Halbrand's suspicious influence and intentions in the Rings, Galadriel persisted. This breaks something very fragile in Elrond, shakes his already fragile trust in others.

We're getting into dangerous territory now! I know many were angry with Elrond in season two and how he treated Galadriel. Elrond, however, wasn't being punitive, jury and executioner, his actions are completely understandable.

Elrond sets out for Lindon with the Rings in a desperate attempt to get Gil-galad to listen to him, to understand his fears. And he does, for a time. Galadriel and Gil-galad may despise Sauron, but they are both desperate for a solution, for a cure so they won't have to abandon Middle-earth.

Gil-galad desires the Rings and Elrond is once again alone. Like Galadriel in the first season while hunting Sauron. It's not easy being the last soldier standing. The only one fighting a losing battle.

It pains Elrond that Gil-galad would risk, in his desperation, accepting something that may have been influenced by Sauron. And it pains him even more that of all the Elves, Galadriel, who has suffered so much and fought so hard, should fall for Sauron's trick.

Círdan is his last hope. Another fleeting hope. Círdan, at least, understands Elrond's fear and the risk of the Rings. To Elrond, the Rings of Power are no different than the Silmarils. Objects of beauty and power that have cost many lives.

Elrond did not hesitate out of spite for Galadriel. But as someone who has suffered so much under the influence of the Silmarils, he understands the staggering risk they are all taking. Like his mother, Elwing, Elrond’s leap is one of desperation, of sacrifice.

Now the Rings are in Lindon and Elrond tries one last time to protect Galadriel. Yes, the Rings worked and their beauty enchants everyone, even Elrond.

This, however, does not make the Rings any less dangerous. The disappointment on Elrond's face is noticeable when he realizes that Galadriel succumbed so easily to the desire to wear the ring.

It is undoubtedly difficult for Elrond to remain in Lindon. The Elves are happy, the Rings have worked, and they are safe. This is not enough to assuage Elrond's fears. And given all he has been through, it is to be expected that he would feel this way.

Elrond remains firm in his beliefs, even though he is suffering from his separation from Galadriel. But Elrond was so young when he lost his parents because of the Silmarils, why would the Rings be any different?

I believe he did not want what happened to all those who touched the Silmarils to happen to his friends. But Elrond cannot forgive Galadriel, he cannot accept what she is asking. For him, if she accepted the Ring, she is accepting Sauron's influence.

Only Cirdan can convince Elrond and he does. He believes in Elrond and understands his fear, but asks him to understand that the Rings can and should be used for good, and that is why Sauron cannot touch them. Is it Cirdan's words that influence Elrond to leave with the retinue? I believe so.

The best way to define the relationship between Elrond and Galadriel in the next episodes is, as they say in my country, "A tail-puller." (it sounds better in my language) Which talks about two difficult people who are constantly at war, but never move away from each other.

In episode four, they are like two contrasting forces. Elrond has agreed to leave with the retinue only because he wants to protect Celebrimbor and end Sauron's rule. His motives and Galadriel's may be the same, but their motivations are not.

Elrond is firm with Galadriel, not giving in to her tempestuous and proud ways. She has agreed to be there, so she needs to take Elrond's advice. Since Elrond will not follow the Ring's advice.

And is he completely wrong? We, the viewers, understand that the ring is not compromised. That vision does not exist for the characters. And trusting in a Magic Ring is not trustworthy. Let's look at what happened to the Dwarves, to the Men. The fear of Elrond is equal to the fear of Durin.

Evil was in the forest, Elrond was warned. Who has never made a mistake by not listening to advice? Listening to the Ring's advice, for Elrond, would be like listening to the Silmaril's advice. It is a dangerous path that he does not wish to follow.

A choice that caused the loss of an Elf. However, in the fight against Sauron and the forces of Adar, it is as Galadriel said, many difficult losses would occur. It is clear that Elrond wants to listen to Galadriel, that he wants to trust her words.

He feels that she is being influenced by the Ring, and this impairs her judgment, or vice versa. No one can be completely correct in this story. Let us remember that Elrond is deeply hurt.

Did Galadriel sacrifice herself for the ring? For her friends? Both answers are possible, together or separately. They vary depending on how much you like the characters. What matters to me, however, here, is what Elrond felt. And he is so hurt that he prefers to believe that Galadriel sacrificed herself only for the ring and nothing more.

Even the lives of the Elves are about growing, maturing, and learning. Elrond is learning slowly. As Círdan said, they do not yet understand the Rings. It is to be expected that not everyone will agree at once.

But Galadriel's sacrifice, no matter how Elrond interpreted it, changed something in him. Elrond runs to Lindon and warns Gil-galad. Yes, Galadriel was right, and they need to send all their soldiers to Eregion. I think a lot about Elrond's words, when he talks about how the loss of Eregion would affect everyone.

Did he think of Doriath, of Gondolin? That is in his legacy. He cannot bear the loss of yet another great Elven kingdom to one of the Dark Lords.

It is time for Elrond to set out for the Dwarven Kingdom and seek help. Elrond, ever the herald of the Two Kinds, speaking for the Two Kinds.

Elrond once again sets out for Khazad-dûm. He knows that the Elves will be defeated without the help of the Dwarves. Elrond, like his father, has always known that one people alone cannot defeat such a powerful enemy. Only united are they strong enough.

Leaving with Durin's promise, Elrond returns to Lindon to fight on behalf of all Elves. He is determined, he will protect his people. Galadriel is his weak point. His friend is in the hands of Adar and he blames himself for this.

Elrond and Galadriel tend to say goodbye in moments of great intrigue. Seeing Galadriel in the hands of the enemy undoubtedly hurt him, he himself was once in the hands of the enemy, he was on the side of the hostages, he was a hostage.

Adar is as big a threat as Sauron. Sauron may be forging Rings to enslave Middle-earth, but it is Adar who is in Eregion with his Uruks destroying the Elven kingdom.

And Elrond needs to be strong once again. Elrond faces Adar, even though Adar disregards Elrond's ability as a warrior. Yes, Elrond lived behind countless books, but he always knew war, always understood it and faced it.

I'm going to get into another dangerous area and some of you will hate me (well, but analysis is how I interpret the show, so…) I consider Elrond and Galadriel's kiss very important and necessary.

I ship Galadriel and Celeborn, yes, I said that. But Celeborn is not here at the moment, I am talking about Elrond.

The kiss is a subtle and effective strategy that allows Galadriel to escape. However, I also see the kiss as a way for Elrond to show his love and affection for Galadriel, how he is regretting, how he blames himself for her being there, how he wishes things had been different and they could be at peace.

And perhaps it was also a farewell kiss. It is, after all, a war. Is it hard for Elrond to turn his back on Galadriel, to leave her alone in Adar's tent, to run away alone? I bet it is.

Elrond is back on the battlefield. It is a hard, ugly, cruel fight. Many lives are lost, Elrond is forced to watch his friends and companions perish in a cruel way at the hands of the Orcs. At the hands of his enemies. It is painful, it is always painful.

The final stab is Durin's delay. Did Elrond feel abandoned? In all the chaos, he cannot assimilate everything that was happening around him.

All he knows is that Durin is not there and they must fight. And here is Adar, taking Nenya from Elrond. The world is made of hope, but not for Elrond.

Loss is an interesting thing to interpret. Elrond lost many things, many people, during much of his life. It is no different now, with Eregion destroyed, with Celebrimbor dead. But the cruelest loss is memory.

What remains. It is devastating to Elrond that all the documents, the scrolls, all the memories of all those who lived in Eregion, who wrote down its teachings, were lost.

Why not just lose, but also lose memory? It is too much for anyone. All the knowledge of a people lost, forever. Which is a long time for an Elf.

Durin's arrival is a small comfort, until Elrond discovers that it is not Durin. The last of the Elves are being rescued, but to where? Eregion has fallen, there is nothing left for them, not there. Not in many places in Middle-earth.

Elrond is at a crossroads. Galadriel is dying, the darkness is too strong. Is it up to him to trust the Ring, to go against all his principles? In my opinion, this is the key point about Elrond's evolution in the second season.

Elrond was greater than his fear, greater than his fears, because it was better to risk using a Ring controlled by Sauron (whom he feared, obviously) than to lose Galadriel. After so many losses, it is easy to choose his friend over his fear.

The scene in which Elrond contemplates Eregion, once an imposing, majestic kingdom, completely in ruins is very sad. An entire kingdom destroyed by the desires of Sauron and Adar, so many lives, so much knowledge, lost for power.

As when the people of Gondolin fell, and the people of Doriath fell, Elrond had to start over. As when his parents fell, and ruin came to his people, he must start over. Ever forward, in search of better days. When everything is broken, we can only start over and move forward.

It is nice to see Elrond's last scene, where he holds Nenya without fear, without distrust (something that will be beautiful to see in the future, since he will also be a protector of the rings) and trusting Galadriel once again.

They are both at peace now. The surviving people of Eregion are at peace, as much peace as can be. The light is shining and a new day has dawned, for all of them, especially for Elrond, who in the Third Age will be one of the few to represent a light in the darkness of Middle-earth.

I really like the way Elrond is built in the show. It's great to watch and follow the growth of this incredible character, who is by far one of my favorites. I can't wait to see what his journey will be like in the upcoming seasons.

Don't forget that you all voted and the next analyses will also be about trajectories. (First Míriel, then Sauron.)

Tomorrow is my birthday, so I'm posting the analysis today! :)

[girldriveroscar]

Re: size of landoscar. Love your write up haha. Truly any narrative can be validated bc every pic looks different ‼️I do have two pics that are crucial landoscar comparisons imo:

https://www.tumblr.com/answerringg/770682515577077760/their-size-difference-oh-lando-is-getting

This pic is a screen grab from a vid but just in general he looks huge this whole video 😭 like you mentioned I think his bad posture eventuates that + optical illusion but wow. What a satisfying visual re: him vs Lando. Like FINE I’ll buy into the whole ‘Lando’s so small🥺’ that both Lando and Oscar like to perpetuate🤷‍♀️

there’s also a vid of Oscar+ a fan and the comments/fan all mention how surprisingly tall Oscar is. Like Lando said in that first Mclaren vid… Oscar doesn’t seem tall.. but he is. (tall being like 5’10/11 lol)

https://www.tumblr.com/mara-xx/770330916757372928/needed-a-last-minute-birthday-cake-so-i-called-up

^ And this one is just self explanatory 💗

Anyway sorry for the length but my last random thoughts — even as someone who’s never paid attention to lando til like 5 seconds ago, I can tell he’s gone through a massive glow up. And to make this rpf bc why not, how lucky for oscar —the guy who’s been a fan of forever— to experience Lando in his prime (thus far). Oscar said #invest #manifest 

THIS and THIS for ease…

THESE SUITS WERE SO. fuck that ugly ass diagonal suit broOAUGH. this era..peak landoscar size diff cus like oscar Jus grew n lando had Not.

but ok like they r Literally always changing sizes. frm the front to the back to the outfit to the angle

i could find a Billion examples atp !!

why doesnt the big twink eat the little twink seeing this Reformed my brain n the way i see them bc. from the front they r so

0 and o

like oscars small horizontally (again FROM THE FRONT!) while landos smaller vertically. but theyre both Small Basically. (#f1drivers)

but at the same time. theres a lot of muscle mass packed into their frames. and as they shift arnd / have better or worse posture / flex and unflex. theyre either Twigs or Big.

its shrödingers landoscar… theyre big and small… i think the only real conclusion for this wld amount frm seeing them in the flesh. which i dont intend to do or ever report on. LOL. probably.

i fully believe oscars taller than he looks tho. ESP after this year. end of 2023 vs start of 2024 and end of 2024 for reference. i think its a slight growth spurt maybe i am… being kind to oscar though…

anyways thank u for the oscass pic. that photo genuinely makes me Claw and rattle the bars of my enclosure like he is so Perfectly bouncy in that. n lando is my pancake in a way…

and bc youre landoscaring im landoscaring. Under the cut tho.

the fact oscars not even.. big… n they stil BOTH push this narrative of lando is sooo itty bitty…

the way sue Cs it oscar is so giddy about being in on the “lando is the small and fiercely dominant” joke after following said smallest boys career When He was Actually the Smallest… like he is living out his 15 yr old dream please excuse his excitement he Literally is just in on the joke now. of course hes milking it. ijsk he wanted to b george russell soooo bad. hes Crazy. let him have this bit.

lando i think leans into his smallness as a shield bc its all hes ever known and been told. but thats a whole deeper convo. still cannot bring myself to edit that lando analysis Very apologetic the thoughts might hv to die in my drafts <\3

the #invest made me LOLLLL. hes so true. following a guy frm his feeder series bc u Saw the potential in him. Watching him get to F1. Moving frm adolescence leaving everything familiar to u behind to kart with the same team. Stumbling behind in his footsteps. Getting to F1 right by his side. And then u won a championship w him. brought glory back to ur team through the power of Literally Just getting along.. and u have these weird charged events of tension that Somehow get ironed out Somehow.. And ur so completely the opposite of everything he knows and yet the longest teammate he has Ever Had..oOh My Goooood

we rlly dont… give enough time and energy to JUST HOW crazy of a coincidence that is. js think ab how exciting it is for Us when the F2/F3 driver ur following makes it into F1 !! like if Luke Browning or Fred Vesti ever got a seat im Doing Actual Backflips. IT RLY IS LIKE. #invest #manifest now add on everything else??? LIKE WHAT!!!!! god they make me crazy. and somehow lando got super stupid hot and hes a race winner and can actually groan out loud when he fucks instead of whimpering pathetically. that’s crazy man. 🚬🚬🚬🚬

[sanza-17]

New oc just dropped‼️🙏

I finally have a last Dragonborn oc and her name is Sereia and she is half-Breton and half-Altmer🥴 the drawing on the left is a recent piece and the one on the right is one from a year ago I think

The funny thing is that my vestige Irene actually used to me my ldb but then eso happened so ig not but anyways!! Sereia is the “adopted” daughter (bcs pregnancy is scary and nothing is coming out from between her legs lol) of Irene some time in the 4th era before the events of Skyrim, Irene found her abandoned outside of Daggerfall and has been raising her ever since despite the fact she would never see herself as a motherly figure. At some point when Sereia turns 18 she leaves Daggerfall/High rock to go journey down to cyrodill to go see her relative Yara (who is my forgotten hero/blades fugitive oc) but then the usual happens and now she’s stuck in Skyrim because she finds out she’s the Dragonborn😛 oh and she forms a group with taliesin, Lucien, Kaiden and inigo bcs she lacks male figures in her life😓 also odahviing is her best friend and her glorified Uber, she likes the dragon-slayer to dragon-rider transformation very much

You’re probably going to be wondering who the father is despite her being “adopted” ig we’ll never know🌚

Lol. Are we surprised? :>

at first I was bored and wanted to create a character that was a mix of manni and Irene cuz why not but when I made Irene my vestige I needed a ldb oc so this new oc I made ages ago will fill in that missing spot. Ok so the thing is, is that Sereia wasn’t made through normal means and I had the idea that she was made by akatosh or something making her a sort of “divine creation” to be placed onto nirn at the right time so he could have someone fulfil the ldb prophecy and so he decided to make his champion both a mix of Irene and mannimarco (bcs why not, they’re two people who are connected in some form & Irene has a a good track record of being a hero as well as two of her descendants, yara and my HOK oc) which does make her biologically related to both of them but Irene and maybe manni who’s busy being a god/moon don’t know despite her looking a lot like Irene lol🤷🏽‍♀️

but ngl I like to think of her as a variant of Irene if that makes sense, like it’s Irene but in a different font

that’s about all that I can think of for now but I’ll explain more in future posts🫶 feel free to ask questions if u have any bcs I really wanna figure her lore out but so far, she is baby😩