#Alerts: 2019

[itdosentsmelllikecacatome]

i never noticed this this is the cutest thing ever omg

[xylathesilkwing]

I’ve said this to much of my family but something I really like about control is how. awkward. Jesse is in person

like in her brain she’s (mostly) cool and collected, smart, and a totally different person then when she actually talks to people

out loud she’s awkward and to me that’s funny because it makes sense!! girls been put in a position where she has no experience (as per the what a mess: talk to plants mission), and compared to her coworkers got here by chance (in response to Langston: “I just picked up a gun. or a gun picked me”) so it makes sense she’d be a bit awkward/confused with them, especially with her position of power too

this spiraled but tldr I love love love Jesse Faden happy Jesse January everyone

[disfordevineaux]

One-shot esk fic I'm writing about Julia's first day(s) of employment at Interpol is my new fixation thank you for coming to my presentation today I shall-

[taviokapudding]

My dad and I were chatting before bed when he said "damn shame Republicans hate Democrats too much because you almost saved the United Healthcare ceo"

And I stared at him in confusion until I remembered I convinced Democrats to write the active shooter alert system bill in 2022 & Republicans said no. Since my Twitter is gone, the thread of me @ everyone is gone. And when Trump got re-elected, I removed the video discussing the bill concept for public comments. It fully slipped my mind because I went from pulling teeth & being reluctantly patient to full on cussing, cursing, and hexing the government by the end of 2023.

I hope that Twitter DC staffer is having a good laugh- I bet their bosses are pissed wwwwww

I don't remember the exact wording I wrote to the White House when I cussed out Biden for funding war crimes (2023) & the bill itself (2022) but I did list consequences I foresaw that are happening now, so suck to suck if nobody listened & are on the receiving end of massive hexes

I guess my dad is right, the GOP technically killed Brian Thompson in 2022

[virrutalangel]

watched yesterday

guys…

it’s an automatic 1.2 star solely because it has both james corsden AND ed sheeran…

(and for other reasons)

[jakebogarts]

柄本 佑 || いだてん～東京オリムピック噺～ (2019) | ep22/23

[kcyars520]

I’ll never forgive you for what you did to us d&d

I can and I will blame them

[joetastic2739]

Someone accessed my Gmail 2 days ago, compromising my linked accounts like Twitter and YouTube. Here's how it happened, why I fell for it, and what you can learn to avoid making the same mistake:

The scam I fell victim to was a cookie hijack. The hacker used malicious software to steal my browser cookies (stuff like autofill, auto sign in, etc), allowing them to sign in to my Gmail and other accounts, completely bypassing my 2FA and other security protocols.

A few days ago, I received a DM from @Rachael_Borrows, who claimed to be a manager at @Duolingo. The account seemed legitimate. It was verified, created in 2019, and had over 1k followers, consistent with other managers I’d seen at the time n I even did a Google search of this person and didnt find anything suspicious.

She claimed that @Duolingo wanted me to create a promo video, which got me excited and managed to get my guard down. After discussing I was asked to sign a contract and at app(.)fastsigndocu(.)com. If you see this link, ITS A SCAM! Do NOT download ANY files from this site.

Unfortunately, I downloaded a file from the website, and it downloaded without triggering any firewall or antivirus warnings. Thinking it was just a PDF, I opened it. The moment I did, my console and Google Chrome flashed. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. I immediately did an antivirus scan and these were some of the programs it found that were added to my PC without me knowing:

The thing about cookie hijacking is that it completely bypasses 2FA which should have been my strongest line of defense. I was immediately signed out of all my accounts and within a minute, they changed everything: passwords, 2FA, phone, recovery emails, backup codes, etc.

I tried all methods but hit dead ends trying to recover them. Thankfully, my Discord wasn’t connected, so I alerted everyone I knew there. I also had an alternate account, @JLCmapping, managed by a friend, which I used to immediately inform @/TeamYouTube about the situation

Meanwhile, the hackers turned my YouTube channel into a crypto channel and used my Twitter account to spam hundreds of messages, trying to use my image and reputation to scam more victims

Thankfully, YouTube responded quickly and terminated the channel. Within 48 hours, they locked the hacker out of my Gmail and restored my access. They also helped me recover my channel, which has been renamed to JoetasticOfficial since Joetastic_ was no longer available.

Since then, I’ve taken several steps to secure my accounts and prevent this from happening again. This has been a wake-up call to me, and now I am more cautious around people online. I hope sharing it helps others avoid falling victim to similar attacks. (End)

(side note) Around this time, people also started to impersonate me on TikTok and YouTube. With my accounts terminated, anyone searching for "Joetastic" would only find the imposter's profiles. I’m unsure whether they are connected or if it’s just an unfortunate coincidence, but it made the situation even more stressful.

[disfordevineaux]

Brooo naurrr like I did not just add more paragraphs to a fic I posted in JANUARY of 2021. Because that would be super mega cringe on an ultimate level one can not comprehend. I can't keep getting away with this I'm gnawing at the bars of my poorly secured enclosure

[saywhat-politics]

Metaphor Alert: Sovereignty Beats Journalism at Kentucky Derby

Sovereignty managed to defy the odds—and the wet conditions—and take home the trophy at Saturday’s Kentucky Derby, beating favorite Journalism to win the $5 million prize in 2:02.31. Journalism, who was the favorite heading into the race with 3-1 odds, came second, while Baeza came third and Final Gambit came fourth. Sovereignty is owned by Godolphin, the stables owned by Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum. Sovereignty’s team will receive $3.1 million of the $5 million prize after the pot was increased last year from $3 million to $5 million, making it the largest prize in Derby history. Sovereignty’s win is the second for trainer Bill Mott, who won his first Derby in 2019 with Country House. That metaphorical idea of Sovereignty beating Journalism was not lost on spectators. Sarah Palin took to X to describe it as “Providential,” while The Athletic’s Mark Lazerus lamented that, “Sovereignty defeating Journalism hits a little too close to home these days.”

[neyatimes]

New Zealand, Auckland shooting:Gunman kills two hours before Women's World Cup

Auckland, New Zealand CNN  —  A rare multiple shooting in the center of Auckland just hours before the opening of the Women’s World Cup has put security officials on edge as tens of thousands gather in the city to watch New Zealand play Norway in the first game of the tournament. New Zealand Prime Minister Chris Hipkins outlined details of the attack in a hastily called news conference,…

[familyabolisher]

I've walked past the Barbie branded selfie booth, sat through the reel of old commercials that precede the previews, and watched Margot Robbie learn to cry, and I’m still not sure what “doing the thing and subverting the thing,” which Greta Gerwig claimed as the achievement of Barbie in a recent New York Times Magazine profile, could possibly mean. This was the second Gerwig profile the magazine has run. I wrote the first one, in 2017, which in hindsight appears like a warning shot in a publicity campaign that has cemented Gerwig’s reputation as so charming and pure of heart that any choice (we used to call them compromises) she makes is justified, a priori, by her innocence. This is a strange position for an adult to occupy, especially when the two-hour piece of branded content she is currently promoting hinges on a character who discovers that her own innocence is the false product of a fallen world. But—spoiler alert!—the point of Barbie’s “hero’s journey” is less to reconcile Barbie to death than to reconcile the viewer to culture in the age of IP.

“Doing the thing and subverting the thing”: I haven’t finished working out the details, but I think the rough translation would be Getting rich and not feeling feel bad about it. (Or, for the viewer: Having a good time and not feeling bad about it.) One must labor under a rather reduced sense of the word “subvert” to be impressed with poking loving fun at product misfires such as Midge (the pregnant Barbie), Tanner (the dog who poops), and the Ken with the earring, especially given that the value of all these collectors’ items has, presumably, not decreased since the film opened. Barbie may feature a sassy tween sternly informing Robbie’s Stereotypical Barbie that the tiny-waisted top-heavy billion-dollar business she represents has made girls “feel bad” about themselves, but if anyone uttered the word “anorexia,” I missed it. (There was a reason Todd Haynes told the story of Karen Carpenter’s life and death with Barbies, and it wasn’t because an uncanny piece of molded plastic has the magical power to resolve the contradictions of girlhood and global capitalism.) There’s a bit about Robbie going back into a box in the Mattel boardroom, but Barbies aren’t made in an executive suite; they come from factories in China. On the one hand, it’s weird for a film about a real-world commodity to unfold wholly in the realm of ideas and feelings, but then again, that’s pretty much the definition of branding. Mattel doesn’t care if we buy Barbie dolls—they’re happy to put the word “Barbie” on sunglasses and T-shirts, or license clips from the movie for an ad for Google. OK, here’s my review: When Gerwig first visited Mattel HQ in October 2019, the company’s stock was trading at less than twelve dollars a share. Today the price is $21.40. 

Christine Smallwood, Who Was Barbie?

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? - Part 1

In which something magical begins.

Warnings: none, just a bit of mutual pining. but this will be an angsty one i think. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Words: 2.6k

Master List

(a/n: new series alert! friends to lovers featuring lando norris. this one will be several parts spanning from 2019 to present day. I've tried my hardest to make sure the timeline/race results are accurate but I may have adjusted something to make it work a bit better for the story line. this is a total work of fiction, purely for entertainment.)

February 2019 

Woking, Surry, England

“This is not going to be a year of partying and laziness, Chiquita.” Carlos throws you a sidelong glance as he pulls his new McLaren into a parking spot early one February morning. “You are here with me to work, not spend your gap year playing.” 

“If I’m here to work, then you can’t me ‘little girl’ while we’re here, Carlos.” You bite back, hauling your tote bag from the floor of the low slung sports car. 

Carlos chuckles, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you both begin the walk into his new workplace: the McLaren Technology Center. “Fair enough, Chiquita.” 

Last spring, you had graduated from high school and had spent one miserable semester at the University of Madrid in the fall before dropping out just a few months ago. 

Carlos dodges the swat that you aim at his bicep, taking a few quick steps ahead of you as you approach the front door of the large white building. The sprawling MTC is an intimidating building and you knew that if you hadn’t been here with Carlos, there was no way you’d be able to find your way. 

After spending a few listless months bouncing from Carlos’ couch in Monaco back to your parent’s estate in Spain, they had laid down the law. You needed to figure out what you were going to do for the foreseeable future if going back to University wasn’t in the cards for you at the moment. They were fine with you not going back to uni right away, in fact, they encouraged you to take a gap year but they expected you to do something productive with your life while you figured out what you wanted to do. 

And that had been when your older brother had entered the chat. He had finished third year as a Formula 1 driver a few months ago and would be changing teams come the new season in March. In December, he had parted ways with his long time assistant, who wanted to spend more time with her new husband and less time traveling. Carlos and you had always been the closest of the four Sainz siblings despite the six year age gap (his 25 years to your 19) so it had been the most natural thing in the world to have you be his assistant and social media manager for the 2019 F1 season. 

Up until today, Carlos had been attending pre-season meetings and putting time in at McLaren’s sim setup by himself but you had arrived at his flat five minutes from the MTC yesterday, suitcases in hand, ready to get started as your brother’s assistant. It had been ages since the two of you had spent this much time together and while you were mostly excited to spend the year traveling and reconnecting with your big brother, there was a bit of trepidation and anxiety sitting in your chest as you walked through those sliding glass doors this morning. 

You were barely 19 after all, little real world experience and you knew absolutely no one in this entire country beyond your brother. All of your friends were attending university in other countries, far away from the world you now found yourself in. Yes, you were excited but you were also insanely nervous. 

Carlos leads you down a long hallway, lined with trophy cases filled with motorsport winners trophies on one side and sleek F1 cars on the other. It was an entire shrine to McLaren history, of which there was a lot, and you were in awe as you followed after your brother. “Where are we going?” You ask as he turns down another quiet hallway, convinced you’d be utterly lost if Carlos asked you to show him how to get back to the front doors. 

“I have a little office tucked away back here next to Lando’s, I wanted to get you set up with the laptop and sync my calendar so you could get yourself ready.” 

You nod, ears perking up at the mention of your brother’s new teammate, Lando Norris. You knew a little about him from a few causal Google searches. He was 19 like you and this was his rookie season in Formula 1. From everything you read, he was a karting prodigy that had been signed by McLaren for a while and had been tapped to drive opposite of Carlos this year. Just knowing that there would be someone around the offices and on the road that was your age made the tight anxiety that sat in your chest ease just a touch, even if you two didn’t end up being more than acquaintances this year. 

Carlos hadn’t been lying about his ‘little��� office. It was barely more than a broom closet if you were being honest. Just enough room for a desk, a pair of chairs, and a bookshelf, but there was a large window that faced south so at least there’d always be sun spilling into the small space making it feel a little airier. 

You pull your MacBook out of the Dior tote Carlos had gotten you for your birthday last year as Carlos chatters away about schedules, press duties, and what he expected out of you. You listened carefully, taking notes in a little spiral bound notebook as you waited for your laptop to boot up. 

“Are you in here talking to yourself again, Carlitos?” 

Your head snaps up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and you find yourself smiling at the boy standing in the doorway. He’s a few inches taller than you, with short brown hair, and bright green eyes surrounded by thick black eyelashes. The deep tan of his skin surprises you a bit, considering its February in England and you hadn’t seen the sun since you left Spain yesterday. 

The boy’s face instantly sobers when he sees that your brother isn’t alone. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He blushes, hand coming to cup the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize you had a guest.” 

Carlos laughs, “This isn’t a guest. This is my sister, the one I was telling you about Friday. She’s going to be my assistant this year.” 

“Of course, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Lando.” 

You stand, crossing the small office in just 2 quick strides to shake Lando’s outstretched hand, “Nice to meet you too, Lando.” You say, polite smile playing on your lips. 

Lando turned around then, not wanting to intrude on the sibling time but also needing a moment to collect himself. He had known that you would be spending the season with your bother and that you two were around the same age but what he hadn’t prepared himself for was for how pretty you were. Your hair was even darker than your brother’s and it tumbled over your shoulders in layered waves that shined in a way that made Lando’s mouth go a little dry. Those dark eyes, round and doe eyed, threatened to swallow Lando whole and he’d barely spent more than a handful of seconds in your orbit.

He leaned against the door frame leading into his office, the sound of your laughter drifting through the walls. He had been used to the constant travel that was required of drivers of his caliber, having spent most of his teenage years on the road but all that time, he always had someone with him. His father, mother, manager. Someone that was ‘in charge’ of him and his schedule.

Now though? Now everything is different. He’s of age, a driver in the pinnacle league of his chosen sport, and totally alone. His friends are either jealous of his success or away at school and Lando often finds himself spending the entire weekend alone in his little flat down the road from the MTC. He was happy, of course, ecstatic that he had been given this chance by McLaren but the truth of the matter was, Lando Norris was quite lonely. 

As the image of your face flickered through his mind, Lando felt the tight grip of anxiety ease just a little bit. There was something so open about the way you had greeted him, something about how easy your laugh seemed to come, that told Lando that you were a good person, someone that would somehow be very important to him this year. 

“That is your teammates sister, mate.” Lando mutters to himself as he pushes off the door frame, making a beeline for the sim rig that was on the other side of the MTC, hoping that the time spent focused on racing would be enough to get your image out of his brain. 

April 2019 

Baku City Circuit 

“Lando, I swear to God if you’ve slept in again I’m ordering fish whenever I eat with you for the rest of my life.” 

Somewhere between Australia and China, you had morphed into not only Carlos’ personal assistant but also the assistant and babysitter of sorts to his stupid, idiotic, hilarious teammate. You adored the boy but most of the time he drove you to the brink of absolute madness. 

“I didn’t sleep in! My alarm didn’t go off!” Lando groans, breathless on the other end of the phone. 

“That is literally the same thing. I have one simple job here, Norris: get you and my brother to where they belong during race weekends and right now? You’re making me look like an amateur.” 

“I just got into the paddock, relax darling, no one is even remotely close to being fined by the FIA. I’ll be on the fan stage in five minutes, meet me there?” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you desperately try to will away the Landache, the term you’ve come up with when you get a headache caused by the Brit. “Fine.” You breathe. 

It’s your fourth race of the season and while Lando and your brother were seemingly hell bent on driving you to an early retirement, you had never been happier. Managing the busy schedule and life of now two Formula 1 drivers had come naturally to you. Engineers and mechanics in the garage were always a little in awe of your ability to keep the two drivers in line and where they needed to be when. The communications team at McLaren loved you because sometimes, you were the only one who would be able to get the Carlando, as the duo was coming to be known as, to behave. 

It was total chaos pretty much all of the time but you were thriving. You and Carlos were closer than ever, working tighter like a well oiled machine. But Lando and you? You two were the textbook definition of Partners In Crime. While you were the picture of professionalism on the track and during business hours, you were the other half of the chaos gremlin duo that terrorized half the grid. 

Right now though? Now the chaos gremlin was the perfect paddock princess that had to make sure her best friend and brother got to the right places on time. You round the corner of the back stage area, desperately searching for the mop of wavy brown hair covered by a papaya colored hat. 

“Lando!” You call, relieved when your dark eyes catch with a familiar pair light colored eyes. Today, they were an icy blue thanks to the bright desert sun of Baku. “I didn’t think I had to add ‘alarm’ to my list of race weekend duties.” You grouse, brushing at the dust on his team polo. 

Lando shakes his head, easy smile spreading across his face. “Am I late though?” 

You glare at him, “No.” You huff. 

“I would never make you look bad, pretty girl.” He winks and your stupid stomach does its traitorous little flip that it’s been doing lately. It’s disgusting. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris.” 

“And please welcome to the stage, McLaren drivers Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris!” The presenter calls from behind Lando’s shoulder, interrupting your sparring match. 

Lando gives you a wink before spinning around following your brother up the stairs of the stage. 

July, 2019

Germany 

“That was my fifth DNF this year.” The pain in Lando’s voice sends your stomach twisting. You follow behind him, hands wringing together, as he stalks down the hallway of the hotel in Germany. The race had finished up hours ago but Lando had just been released from media duties a bit ago. Carlos had been caught up in some post-race meetings so you had hitched a ride back to the hotel with Lando instead but now, as you followed his stiff frame stalk down the hall, you wondered if that had been a good idea. 

“Lando, it wasn’t your fault. Your car lost power, it’s not like you binned it into the wall or anything.” 

Reaching his room, Lando stops and pulls out the key before letting himself in. He leaves the door open though, indicating he wanted you to follow him. “I know that.” He groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. The hotel room is pretty normal where hotels are concerned, 2 queen sized beds dominate the space with a large flat screen tv on the opposite side. Lando flops down on the farthest bed, his eyes closed. 

“I’ve barely finished in the points yet this season. Haven’t had a sniffing chance at a podium. I feel like such a fucking fraud.” 

You had stopped just inside the door, wanting to give Lando some space as he had his tantrum but now, seeing how truly upset he is, you cross the carpeted floor and sit down next to your best friend. “Lan.” You coo, running your fingers through his hair, knowing how the scratches from your nails relaxes him. “Lan, it’s okay. You knew coming in, just like Carlos, that McLaren is in a bit of a rebuilding stage. This isn’t unexpected.” 

The problem with Lando is that he is utterly too hard on himself. You had clocked the fact quickly, by the time you had been landing in Australia for the first race of the season, you knew he needed to work on his confidence. 

“I know. I mean, I don’t know but I know that you know and I trust you enough to know that you know what you know is right.” 

Your head spins. “Pardon me?” 

Laughter spilling from your lips pops the bubble of tension in the room, Lando unable to keep the smile off his face either.

“You heard me.” He gripes, sitting up. “And I know -” He stops, glaring at you when you double over with laughter once again. “I know you understood me, you cheeky monkey.” 

“I’m sorry but I’m just so terrified by the fact that I did understand that whirlwind of a sentence and can’t decide how to process it.” You say, chest heaving from laughing so hard. “We’ve been spending too much time together.” 

Lando grabs the remote from your hand before turning on the movie you had both fallen asleep to last night before the race. “Are you going to be mean to me all night, or are we going to finish this movie?” 

You roll your eyes, but toe off your shoes before settling against the headboard of the bed, shoulder bumping with Lando’s as he joins you. “Pizza or sushi for dinner?” You ask, grinning because you already know the answer. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Love you too, Lan.” You counter, pulling out your phone to order some pizza. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16

*as always, if you want to be added to the tag list, leave me a comment or send me a message*

[allthesethingswillendsoon]

SUMMER LOVIN'

CHAPTER ONE: THE FIRST SUMMER

SUMMARY: It's the summer of 2019 and everything in Azzi's life has changed in a matter of months. But when she meets her new neighbor in Cape Cod, summer might just start to be her favorite time of year.

WORD COUNT: 2.8k PAIRING: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd WARNINGS: None (just Azzi being a little ball of anxiety) (Be warned this is barely proofread)

NOTE: Okayyy new series alert!!! Sorry for being MIA for so long I just wasn't feeling motivated etc etc. This series is gonna be a lot more fun and upbeat, I tried to match the banter and back and forth of some of my favorite writers on here. Also this is mostly just backstory, kinda like a prologue, so the rest of the chapters will mostly be set in the summer of 2024 or maybe 2025, idk it doesn't matter that much. I hope everyone likes this and isn't too disappointed that it isn't a Long, Long Time update. Thanks so much for reading and for all the support!!! I love getting feedback and comments and inbox stuff so feel free to leave that!!! Okay I hope everyone enjoys!!!!

JUNE, 2019

CAPE COD, MASSACHUSETTS

This was a new level of weird, like a whole new one. Actually, scratch that, not only was it a whole new level of weird it was a whole new plane of weird existence. 

The Fudd’s didn’t own a ‘summer house’, that would be crazy, that couldn’t be real. When they went out for dinner, once in a blue moon, they got tap water and kids meals, and maybe a dessert if it was someone’s birthday. They owned one car, a worn-down, beat-up people mover, which smelt like a mix of vomit and jelly belly air fresheners. Their house was well loved and rent controlled, something they were thankful for each and every day. They were content with what they had. They were happy and they loved each other.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the case anymore - well the last bit was still definitely true. But ever since her mom got a new fancy job at a law firm and her dad got a promotion, a lot had changed. 

Her family’s yearly income basically quadrupling had been the craziest thing to ever happen to anyone in the history of forever. With all the new money her parents were at a loss with what to do, so they went to a financial advisor person, who told them to ‘invest, invest, invest’, which they did.

One stock market thing after the other and suddenly her family had new cars and houses, and she could do twelve out of state college degrees debt free.

But it still didn’t feel real, it felt like a dream, or a mistake. Every day she expected for the IRS to come knocking down her door, taking all their money and belongings and locking all of it in a freezer - she still wasn’t sure what ‘frozen assets’ meant, but she swore it would happen to them.

Her parents had tried and tried to explain that they wouldn’t spend money that they didn’t have, that they were as secure as anyone could be, but Azzi wouldn’t hear a bar of it.

So of course, the existence of a ‘summer house’ had to be fake. But as her family pulled up to the massive, gated, shingled two story it started to feel quite real.

She stumbled out of the car, unsure of herself, the gravel of the driveway crunched under her squeaky-clean sneakers. Her dad handed her the baby pink suitcase she had picked out before they went to Europe - Holy fuck, she went to Europe. 

She dragged her suitcase down the driveway and made her way towards the entryway. Her mom was already standing on the front porch unlocking the door, her squealing brothers behind her, eager to see the house. Azzi felt like she had been removed from her body, like she was simply a floating entity, watching from afar. 

When the door swung open Jon and Jose sprinted inside, their footsteps and laughter ricocheting off the vaulted ceilings. Azzi stepped in slowly, she needed to be careful, what if houses in Cape Cod had floors that fell out beneath sceptical girls named Azzi, how was she to know?

After a few calculated steps inside she finally dared to look up.

Holy fuck.

It was beautiful, all of it, everything.

The front door opened into a hallway with two doors. On one side, an ornate doorway led to a fancy dining room and the other led to an office, both had big, solid oak tables, and nice chairs and glittery chandeliers. 

She walked down further and was met with the biggest windows she’d probably ever seen in her entire life. But it was the view that struck her, the pool in the backyard, the sand dunes and the ocean, the sunrise settling on the horizon. It was beautiful, it looked like it had been plucked straight out of a postcard. Azzi wasn’t even that religious, but if you had told her God had spent his day off building that house, she would’ve believed it.

The living room had big, white, plush couches with mountains of pillows. The kitchen was decked out in white marble and gold appliances. It was a dream come true.

Azzi turned to her parents, who were standing behind her, anxiously awaiting to see what she would say. They were half-convinced she’d beg them to return the house, to save their money in case of an unforeseen complete economic collapse.

Instead, she squeezed them as tight as she could and through a few tears, said, “I love it.”

They went to bed a few hours later after eating chicken caesar salad for dinner. Her mom made them eat on the deck, she said it was called dining ‘alfresco’. Azzi knew that just meant to be snobby and eat outside, but she was happy to go along with whatever her mom wanted.

It turned out that eating alfresco really took it out of her - or maybe she was drained from the extreme levels of unnecessary anxiety she had been operating under for as long as she could remember, either or.

So immediately after dinner she went up to her room. It was a solid half the size of her room at their real house -god saying ‘real’ house felt so pretentious- but at least triple her room at their old house. It was on the left side of the house, her window right across from a window of their neighbor’s house. It had a white-tiled ensuite with a shower and a bathtub, something she planned to use everyday if she could. She even used the bath salts she brought, letting the warm water and rose scent relax her muscles and her mind.

At last she was ready to sleep. With her sleeping mask and bonnet on she tucked herself into the five billion count duvet and started to drift off. As sleep finally began to take over she heard something.

It was quiet at first, a subtle tapping. She rolled over, trying to get the sleep she so desperately needed.

Then it got louder, she realised her window rattling was causing the sound. What the actual fuck was making her window rattle?

She squeezed her eyes shut in annoyance, trying to ignore the impending sense of doom that had settled deep in her stomach. 

Of course this would have to be how it ended for her. The universe couldn’t just give her one single thing. She was going to be murdered by some Cape Cod born-and-raised, white linen wearing, birkenstock loving freak who would use her guts as garnishes for acai bowls eaten alfresco; and there was nothing to be done about it.

Accepting her fate, she got out of bed and walked to the window, the freshly varnished hardwood floors cold underfoot. 

She braced herself, opening the shutters, only to be confused at the stark lack of creepy murderer person at her window, and the bountiful amount of tiny rocks in her flowerbed.

What was most surprising was the teenage girl standing in the windowsill of the house next door, her arm out and ready to throw another tiny rock. 

How was she going to be murdered from so far away? Bow and arrow? Gun? Was she actually going to be stoned to death? Like 1800s style?

Maybe she would just see where the moment took her.

Azzi knew that the shock was clearly etched onto her own face, but she knew that the expression on the other girl’s face showed she was more surprised than her.

They stared at each other in silence for a minute, the girl’s arm still locked in place. It was then Azzi realised she would have to speak first.

“What are you doing?” She whisper-shouted to the girl, wondering if her voice would make it past the seven metre gap between the houses.

“Uhhh trying to talk to you?” The girl whisper-shouted back, seemingly very unsure of herself.

“Why?” Azzi questioned, genuinely confused. Why would this random girl be interested in talking to her?

“I wanted to?” The girl responded, her voice pitched up at the end.

“Why are you saying everything as a question?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

The girl responded, frazzled to the max, “I dunno! Why are you?” 

Okay. Maybe she had her there. Whatever.

Azzi answered honestly, “Um, actually I don’t know.”

Then she remembered the whole conversation started because her brand new neighbour was trying to kill her with a plethora of tiny stones, “Why were you throwing rocks at my window??”

The girl paused, looking slightly confused, “To talk to you. I said that, remember?”

“Yeah, I know. But like, you don’t even know me. Also it’s the middle of the night, unless I die in the next like seven hours I plan on being here tomorrow.”

She contemplated Azzi’s statement, “Hmm… yeah, I didn’t really think of that. I just wanted to talk to someone my age.”

“How do you even know I’m your age? I could be like thirty-five or something? We’re in Cape Cod for god’s sake doesn’t everybody here drink botox for breakfast?” Azzi interrogated.

She went silent for a moment before a smile broke out across her face, “Yeah, I don’t think a lot of thirty-five year olds sing along to Ariana Grande to unwind.”

Azzi stiffened, she felt her face flush a deep pink despite the slight summer breeze cooling her skin, “You could hear that?”

The girl’s smile grew a little as she crossed her arms across her chest, “I’ll just say that you’re a very talented singer.”

“Oh my god I wish you actually were going to murder me.” She whispered to herself.

Well, she thought she whispered to herself, but she realised she must’ve said it a lot louder when the girl’s face contorted with genuine confusion, “What?”

Azzi tried to regain her cool, “Nothing”

She shrugged, seeming to accept Azzi’s mini soliloquy, before she asked (stated really), “Okay, well, meet me on the beach at sunrise.”

Azzi raised her eyebrows in surprise, “Why would I do that?”

She shrugged, her smug smirk never leaving her face,“Cause I’m oh so charming?”

“Hmm I wouldn’t classify tiny pebble window assault as a particularly charming thing to do.” She retorted.

“I guess you could argue that. Sleep tight, see you on the beach nice and early!” With that the girl gave a quick wave before closing the shutters and her window.

What just happened?

Azzi had had some weird interactions in her nearly seventeen years of living, but none had been able to match the incredibly niche awkwardness and confusion of her interaction with- 

Wait.

What was the girl’s name? As a matter of fact, what did she even look like? The warm glow that had been coming out of the girl’s room had only allowed for Azzi to get the slightest idea of what she looked like, and the expressions that she was making.

The questions swirled through her mind at a thousand miles per minute. It was overwhelming, the amount of information she lacked about the girl she was apparently meeting at the beach for sunrise.

She steadied herself.

What was she thinking? Going to the beach to be alone with a complete stranger before the world would even wake up, and also without asking her parent’s permission?

Had her brain been completely scrambled? Had the girl thrown rocks at her so hard the force of it had sent her into a topsy-turvy dimension?

Azzi shut the windows and blinds before walking back to bed and taking a double-and-a-half dose of her melatonin gummy bears.

A little voice told her it was mean not to meet the girl on the beach, then she remembered she never even agreed to do it in the first place, and also, murder was still on the cards, maybe she was just biding her time.

Then at last she fell asleep.

Azzi didn’t even mean to wake up when she did. She didn’t set an alarm, she shut her blinds, she took more melatonin gummies than what was good for her. So when she woke up wide-awake and refreshed at quarter to six, she had no idea why.

She turned back over, trying to lose some of the day to sleep. After what could have been many gruelling hours, but was actually five minutes, of unsuccessfully squeezing her eyes shut, she acquiesced to the sleep gods and rolled herself out of bed.

There was a light chill in the air. Summer was not yet in full swing, with it only being early June and all. So she pulled on denim cutoffs, a purple tank top and an old quarter-zip. 

She plucked her phone off her nightstand and put on her sandals. She slipped out of her room, closing her door as quietly as humanly possible.

Padding downstairs, she silently thanked the universe for allowing her to live in a house without steps that creaked under the lightest  amount of pressure.

Azzi searched for a set of house keys before she found them inside a shell trinket holder on top of the hall console.

She unlocked the back door, wincing as the lock made a slight scraping sound.

It was still dark, but the sun was beginning to poke out above the sea horizon.

Only when she reached the back fence did she remember all the reasons she thought of the night prior as to why she shouldn’t go.

Then she figured, if this was how she was meant to go, she might as well just let it happen. 

So she powered on, trying her hardest to ignore the grains of sand slowly filling up the soles of her sandals as the ground beneath her changed from grass to sand.

When she properly reached the beach she scanned the area, looking for the girl from the night before. She finally spotted her, or at least she spotted the only other person on the beach and figured that was good enough.

“So what’s your name?” Azzi asked as she plopped down next to the girl.

“Well Good morning to you too, sunshine.” She smiled, looking a bit amused by Azzi’s greeting in the form of interrogation.

They fell into silence, Azzi waiting for the girl to respond, and the girl waiting for Azzi to greet her.

Azzi looked at her, studying her face and all the details of her existence she had missed the night before.

She had long blonde hair, cascading over her shoulders, covered up by a big USA basketball hoodie. The lines of her face were sharp and soft at the same time, the curve of her jaw and cheekbones defined. What struck her most about the girl’s appearance were her eyes. They were a bright blue, and reminded her of the waves lapping against the shore only a few feet away from them. The girl was really, really pretty.

After two minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence the girl finally answered, “I’m Paige.”

She smiled at her, at Paige, “Cool, I’m Azzi”

Paige smiled back, “Nice name.”

“Thanks.”

They fell into pleasant chatter. Paige asked a lot of the questions and listened intently as Azzi answered. She laughed at the funny stuff, making witty comments as she listened. It kind of surprised Azzi how charismatic she actually was.

The sun had risen halfway when they fell back into their silence. In the process of their conversation they had unconsciously shuffled closer, sitting shoulder to shoulder as they watched the starburst-colored sky.

“It’s so pretty.” Azzi said in awe, eyes glued to the horizon.

“Yeah it is.” Paige agreed from beside her. 

It was nice, just sitting there together, the both of them watching something beautiful happen at the same time.

They talked and talked and talked as the cool morning air gave way to the warmer summer heat, and the sun rose high into the sky.

Azzi learnt that Paige had been born rich, that her dad was the son of a big investor who grew up to become a crazy successful software engineer. She learnt that she was from Minnesota, that she had three half-siblings that she adored. She learnt that she wanted to play basketball at college, but that she wanted to help people in some way when she graduated.

“Well I should probably get back, lots of unpacking to do.” Azzi said, realising it was almost eight-thirty,

“Yeah of course,” Paige paused in contemplation before she added earnestly, “I’m glad you came down Azzi.” 

“I’m sure you are.” Azzi quipped, then she bumped her shoulder against Paige’s, rolling her eyes good-naturedly, “Yeah, I’m glad too I guess.”

She stood up, brushing as much sand off of her as she could as she made her way off the beach.

“See you later!” Paige called, waving her arm, smiling.

“See you!” Azzi yelled back, her smile bigger than it had been in a long time.

NOTE: I hope you guys enjoyed!! Thanks so much for reading!! As always feel free to leave reactions and feedback and questions in my inbox!

Divider from @sweetmelodygraphics

[lvrrgirlll]

2019 patrick x miss honey coded/kindergarten teacher reader

In a moment of desperation from both of you, you two resort to Tinder. He was looking for a place to stay, too broke to afford even the cheapest motel. You were looking for some company, desperately lonely in your own personal life even in spite of the fulfillment you felt from your job.

When he asked you to meet for drinks, you felt somewhat wary, never one to drink much, but agreed anyways. You were too lonely to refuse. Upon meeting him, you were surprised, but you knew you shouldn’t have been. His profile told you everything you needed to know. He was scruffy, seemingly polite, though he cussed like a sailor, and he obviously wanted to sleep with you. But it had been so long since that had even happened for you… and you couldn’t deny it was nice to feel wanted.

Of course, you ended up taking him home. He let out a laugh, mostly out of surprise, when he saw the literal cottage you lived in. He marveled at the live flowers around your home and the eclectic interior. That is, before he kissed you as if he was never going to let go.

That was Saturday night. He had slept over, of course, that being his plan all along. Sunday morning you were up before 10am reading with a glass of tea while his toned body laid asleep in your bed. When he finally woke, you offered him tea and a croissant. He eventually asked you the questions that had been pressing on his mind, namely why you dressed ‘like you were going to church.’ Of course, you answered that you were a kindergarten teacher, which he said ‘made a lot of sense.’

That evening he explained his circumstances, you, of course, taking pity on him for having to sleep in his car, and offering he stay for the rest of the challenger. You told him it didn’t come with a price though. He originally was excited, thinking you meant sex, but he was disillusioned when you put him to work on ribbon garlands. “They’re for my class! I showed them a tiny one and they loved it so I said I’d make big ones to put around the classroom.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away. He found your dedication sweet. You showed him pictures of your class and told him about all the wild, funny things the kids said, while he worked diligently on the garland. Neither of you realized but you had been chatting and working till 3am, the smoke of your cinnamon scented candle putting itself out as it drown in wax alerting you two. At one point you had dozed off, your head in Patrick’s lap, and he just didn’t have the heart to wake you. When you did wake up, immediately getting back to work, you chastised him for letting you get ‘sidetracked’ by sleep, to which he just chuckled.

When you did finally go to bed, you had thankfully finished the garland and could relax comfortably in Patrick’s arms, even if you would have to go work in only a few hours. You thought you could get used to this.