#And for old posts like maybe once a month would be the max but it will probs be just every once in a while if i feel like it thats all

[talkdutchtome]

Bad Idea Right? - Daniel Ricciardo

pairing . . . daniel ricciado x reader )

genre . . . smut )

summary . . .it had been three months seen you had seen your ex boyfriend, you had done everything in your power to get over him, so why does it only take daniel to look your way before you’re putty in his hands once again )

song . . . bad idea right? - olivia rodrigo )

warning . . . smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, choking, rough sex, spitting in mouth, use of the words slut and whore, degradation, face slapping, dacryphilia, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, use of petnames, not proofread )

word count . . . 3200 words )

a/n . . .i'm still pretty new to writing smut so this probably isn't fantastic but i've had it sitting in my drafts half done since guts first came out so i just wanted to get it done )

Haven't heard from you in a couple of months  But I'm out right now and I'm all fucked up  And you're callin' my phone and you're all alone  And I'm sensing some undertone 

The second you saw him across the crowded club, you knew the months of progress and moving on would be for nothing. He looked better than ever, the tight white shirt he wore complemented his tan skin and made you press your thighs together. Daniel Ricciardo ended things with you 3 months ago because your relationship, though full of love, became extremely toxic; with the two of you constantly going through the vicious circle of arguing and then fucking to make up. It hurt to be without him as you truly believed the two of you were meant to be together but after months without him, you had finally started to believe that you could live without him; that was until you walked into a nightclub and found the Australian sat in the VIP section with two absolutely beautiful women sat either side of him.  

Suddenly you were the 22-year-old girl that met Daniel three years ago, immediately transfixed by him and willing to do anything for his attention. You knew he knew you were there, when Max saw you, he waved and called you over, but you just waved and gestured to the bar, telling him that you were getting a drink. Still living in a post-breakup world, you had gotten especially dressed up for tonight; hoping to find someone who would help you forget about the Formula 1 driver who still had a hold on your heart. You wore a lilac lace minidress that hugged your curves tightly, it was brought for you by Daniel, but you didn’t see the need to throw out a perfectly good dress just because of whose money purchased it. Point was, you looked hot as hell and you knew it too, so you didn’t mind going over to the table your ex sat at, only to talk to Max though of course.  

When he saw you walking over, he felt his mouth get dry and annoyingly, his trousers get tight. He had always loved you in that dress and now that he knew he couldn’t have you, you looked even better. He watched you talk to Max, laughing at all his jokes and batting your pretty little eyes at the Dutchman just like you used to at him. He also watched Max’s eyes watching you, he watched his friend practically eye-fuck his ex-girlfriend whilst he sat across from them. The girls sat next to him were now completely forgotten, all Daniel could focus on was you. When Max went up to the bar to get the next round, Daniel knew this was his chance; he scooted around the table until he was sat next to you and began to whisper in your ear.  

“He wants you, you know”  

You scoffed at your ex-boyfriend's words, you and Max may be flirting a little bit, but that’s all it was, not to mention that it was none of his business who wanted you anymore 

“Well maybe I want him to” You whispered back at him with a smirk, expecting that to knock him down a peg or two but instead you saw him smile back at you before taking a piece of paper out of his pocket and starting to write something down. 

“Yeah sure thing, but if you decide that you want to be fucked by someone who will actually make you cum tonight, heres my new address. I'll be waiting.” He told you before putting the piece of paper in your hands before getting up and walking away from you.  

And I pull up to your place on the second floor  And you're standing, smiling at the door  And I'm sure I've seen much hotter men  But I really can't remember when   

You held the piece of paper containing Daniel’s address in your palms as you paced back and forth outside the door to his apartment. You knew this was a bad idea, but you craved him so badly. You had slept with other people since your relationship ended but none of them compared to the way Daniel made you feel, and you didn’t realize just how badly touch starved you were until Daniel whispered those dirty words in your ear and you felt throbbing coming from between your legs. “Fuck it, it’s fine” You spoke aloud before finally knocking on the door. 

Daniel opened the door with a smirk painted on his face, he knew you would cave and follow him home. Seeing his face almost mocking you made you half want to turn around and walk home but half jump on him and let him fuck you senseless. Deciding on the latter, you walked past him into his home. Before you had a chance to say anything you were pressed up against the now closed front door with Daniel’s hand around your neck. 

“What a silly little whore you are, trying to fuck my best friend right in front of me, and in my favorite dress too” He tutted at you, smirking more when you kept quiet, unsure what to respond to the words he had spoken. 

“Do you really think he could fuck you like I can? Like anyone can fuck you like I can?” he asked you again, now starting to apply pressure to your throat with his fingers, you stayed quiet still saying nothing to the man in front of you. Suddenly you felt a sharp pain on your cheek, Daniel had slapped your face. 

“Answer me pretty girl” 

You could have cum right then and there; the issue with all of the sex you had been having post Daniel is that none of them knew how rough you liked it, and to finally have that feeling of a man stood in front of you getting ready to fuck you silly made your pussy quiver with anticipation. 

“No Danny, nobody can fuck me like you can” you responded, looking up to him through your long lashes, giving him the doe eyes that you know he was never able to resist.  

“You look so pretty babygirl” he spoke, bringing his hand away from your neck to your lips. He used his thumb to push your mouth open slightly, you opened it wider, knowing what he wanted. He spat in your mouth before using his hands to close your lips together again 

“Swallow” he ordered and you did without a second thought. You felt his hands move down your body, coming from your mouth, stopping briefly at your tits before they travelled down even further, eventually ending up between your legs. He pushed up your dress to your waist and sunk down to his knees.  

“Oh new panties sweetheart? Did one of your new fucktoys get you these?” 

“Maybe” you retorted at him, but before you could finish the word Daniel had ripped them off, literally 

ripped them off. He smirked at the sight of your glistening pussy, knowing that he had gotten you to the point of dripping without even touching you. He pushed his fingers through your folds, running his fingertips harshly across your clit before sinking two fingers straight into your core without giving you a second's warning. The involuntary squeal that left your lips only boosted Daniel’s ego, his smirk growing wider than you thought possible. The pleasure that you felt in the first ten seconds of him thrusting his tattooed fingers inside of you was greater than anything you had felt since the pair of you had broken up. Though just as quickly as he had started touching you, he stopped, leaving you a whimpering mess.  

“Such a slut aren’t you, so desperate for my dick” he taunted you, a low chuckle leaving his lips before he picked you up and threw you across his shoulders. 

“Ahh Danny what the fuck?” you asked, genuinely startled as he began to carry you to his bedroom, before throwing you down onto the bed.  

“Dress off” Daniel said, stood in front of where you laid, his eyes dark and focused on you. You thought about fighting him, to at least make it look like you’re not willing to give in to him too easily, to keep some pride; but the look he gave you sent shivers down your spine, you could feel the slickness building up between your thighs, you needed him, pride be damned. And if you thought Daniels eyes where dark and hungry before, it was nothing compared to the way he looked at you he towered over you on his bed. He looked like a man possessed when you slid off your dress, leaving you covered only by a black lace bralette that was swiftly removed by Daniel anyway. You opened your mouth to beg for him to touch you again, but you were swiftly cut off when his mouth crashed against yours, enveloping you in a earth-shatteringly good kiss that sent your mind swirling. The feeling of his lips against yours was one you would never grow tired of. The way his hands laced into your hair and his knee nudged your legs open made it hard for you to understand why you would ever willingly let this go.  

It was only when you started to grind yourself against his knee that he pulled his lips off of you. The way that he looked down at you as you cried out for him was sinful. His messy chocolate brown hair, his swollen lips turned up in smirk, his eyes usually so bright and happy now dark and stormy, full of lust. Every part of him turned you on more than any guy you had ever known. 

“Please Danny” your voice was horse; you were becoming desperate. 

“Please what Babygirl?” he spoke with a chuckle, he loved having you like this, like putty in his hands.  

“Make me feel good” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, not above trying any trick that would get too closer to cumming. 

Daniel didn’t say anything to your request though, instead he just began pressing kisses on your lips, before slowly bringing his kisses down past your neck and chest, getting closer and closer to the place where you ached for him the most. This process lasted only a few moments, but those teasing moments felt like hours and when his tongue finally found your pussy you honestly felt like you had died and gone to heaven. He licked strips up your slit, savoring the taste of you, the taste that he had missed so much. Your hands found his hair as his lips attached themselves to your clit, the curls wrapping around your fingers as they had done so many times before. The way he sucked at and nibbled your clit made you see stars and you soon felt your first orgasm start to build up, that familiar feeling in your stomach making itself known.  

“Ahh Danny I’m going to cum, please let me cum” you begged him, although if he said no, you weren’t sure you would be able to avoid it anyway.  

“Sure, Babygirl you can cum all over my tongue, do you think Max could make you cum this hard” His words annoyed you, bringing up Max at this point was not necessary but before you could complain to him, he picked up the pace of his tongue and you quickly found yourself reaching climax, a string of profanity falling from your lips as you did so. The sounds you were making were music to Daniel’s ears, sounds that he wished he could hear for the rest of his life. If Daniel’s ego wasn’t big enough already, the way he had you falling apart in just a few minutes made his pride swell. You could walk away from him, pretend that you’d moved on and don’t want him anymore; but it’s him who knows your body better than you do, it’s him who knows exactly how to give you what you need to make your knees weak.  

Once he had made you feel good, he turned his attention to himself. The way you tasted, the way you sounded; you were his kryptonite, and he was becoming so hard that it had started to become painful. His rock-hard dick straining against his jeans made your mouth water, it had been far too long since you had felt the sting of him splitting you in half, and you didn’t want to wait any longer; so, when you saw him reach for his belt you felt your pussy quiver with anticipation. 

“Are you going to let me fuck you baby?” he asked as he began to pull his jeans down, revealing his grey boxers, damp from the way his cock had been seeping with precum. His underwear didn’t last long as they were the next thing to be removed, his length red and angry with how hard it was, how desperate for your touch it was. It had only been three months since you had last had him, but in that time, you had somehow forgotten just how big he was; it made you nervous, but it also made you that much more desperate to have him inside of you.  

“Yes, Danny please fuck me” At your words of conformation, he roughly manhandles you to flip you onto your stomach. You prop yourself up on your hands and knees immediately on instinct; you knew how he liked to fuck you, and you also knew that if you did what he wants than you’re more likely to be allowed to cum around his dick.  

“You’re such a good girl aren’t you baby; you know just how I want you don’t you” His hands fall to your ass, groping it and massaging it; savoring every moment of having you spread out in front of you, for all he knew this could be the last time that he has you like this so he was damn well going take his time.  

“What’s the safe word sweet girl?” he asked you as he runs his hands across your body, wanting to feel all of you.  

“Mclaren, please Danny, just fuck me I need you so bad” 

Without warning he plunges two of his fingers deep inside of you, sending shockwaves of pleasure ringing throughout your body. He pumped them inside of you roughly and without care, the sting from just his fingers stretching your cunt out making your eyes water and you felt that oh so familiar feeling of another orgasm creeping up on you embarrassingly fast, however that was all taken away when Daniel abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, making you whine; feeling empty from the loss of contact. That emptiness didn’t last for long though, because just as soon as he took his fingers out of you, he slammed his cock into you.  

Your cries filled the air and tears began to fall from your eyes as Daniel picked up his pace, still slamming himself inside of you despite your discomfort. His hand reaches around to grab your neck, pulling you up flush against his chest so he can see your face as he continues to wreck you. 

“You look so pretty when you cry you know that, such a pretty little slut” as he speaks his hand finds your clit, rubbing it harshly. The pain starts to subside as you get used to having him inside of you again and it is quickly replaced by insane pleasure. The groans falling from the Australians lips sounds heavenly and you can feel your second orgasm quickly approaching.  

“Don’t you dare cum, not until I say you can” Danny tells you, letting go of your neck and gently pushing your head down to the pillow. He’s fucked you countless times, so he knows your body, he knows the way that your pussy starts to clench when you’re close, he knows that you’ll purposely not say anything to try and get away with cumming even when he’s told you not to. He is an expert in the subject of you, and that’s information that he’ll always keep, regardless of how long the two of you spend apart. He knows you more than anyone ever has, and anyone ever will.  

“Oh, fuck fucking fuck you feel so good babygirl, you’re so tight for me” he said through gritted teeth, still slamming into you with all of his might, drunk on the feeling of you clenching around him, your moans and cries spurring something on in him. He didn’t want to admit it even to himself, but he had missed you more than anything, he had missed the way you feel, the way you taste, the way you sound. Everything about you was perfect and, in that moment, he decided that he would never let you go again. The thought of another man getting to have you like this made him sick to his stomach, the thought of someone like Max getting to hear the whimpers you make when you’re being fucked, it was unbearable. 

It was getting harder and harder for you to hold off your orgasm, Daniel was fucking you like a man possessed and sooner or later you were going to cum whether you were allowed or not, and he knew that, of course he did.  

“I’m so so close Danny, please please let me cum” You were begging, shame and pride had gone out the window when you turned up at his door after three months. 

“Okay baby, cum. I’m close too, I’m going to fill you up, okay? This is my pussy, and mine only” Daniel just about spoke through gritted teeth. The second those words left his mouth though; you were over the edge. The feeling was overwhelming, you couldn’t remember the last time you came so hard. Tears spilt from your eyes as fireworks went off in your lower stomach and your legs began to tremble. 

The combination of the sound of your cries and the feeling of your pussy contract around him had Daniel not far behind you. His hands gripped your hair in a makeshift ponytail as he picked up the pace one last time, fucking you so hard that you genuinely thought he was going to split you in half; his groans getting louder and his breaths getting deeper and more sparce until he spilled out into you.  

~~~~ 

  The morning sun filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow on the tangled sheets, Memories of the night before float hazily in your mind and you catch sight of Daniel sleeping soundly next to you. Truth be told you don’t even remember falling asleep, you must have just crashed after such an intense orgasm. Reaching over to check your phone, you notice multiple messages from your best friend asking where the hell you got to last night. You quickly send a message saying that you were so tired you just went home to sleep, before putting your phone back onto the nightstand and cuddling back up to the man beside you.  

But you never said where or in whose sheets 

[thef1diary]

Memories | D. Ricciardo

Summary: Daniel's return to RedBull is not just a return to the team, it's a return to you but it just might be too late for that.

Based on the song Memories by Conan Gray

Warnings: angst, fluff, coarse language

Word Count: 2.9k+

Note: this is a repost of a one shot from my old account. Felt like I should start with this since Danny’s back on the grid.

The chapter that seemed like it was never ending has finally ended. Daniel is free from McLaren. It wasn't just a team-oh how he wishes it was-it was worse than anything he could've possibly been through.

Or so he thought.

Signing the papers at RedBull to be a third driver wasn't something he thought he'd ever do. But the team treated him better than McLaren ever could. So he was happy. Glad to return to a place where his mental health could be at ease.

That was, until he remembered everything that happened once he left. He remembered how things ended between you and him.

‘It's been a couple of months’

You can't say that you're happy but at least you're better than you were a while ago. When you heard the news of Daniel Ricciardo returning to RedBull, it was an overload of emotions that you kept locked away.

‘That's just about enough time for me to stop crying when I look at all the pictures’

You remember the first day you met Daniel, all those years ago when you joined the team to handle the social media side of it all. You two were well acquainted from the moment you began. He was one of the very few people who personally welcomed you in the team.

Then, you sat right beside him, giving him a little special treatment as you showed him the photos you were planning on posting to the team's socials. It was of him, smiling wide as he always did, while talking to his teammate.

It's been a long time since then, so you never thought you'd be the one posting the photo of him once again clad in a RedBull team shirt.

‘Now I kinda smile, I haven't felt that in a while’

You briefly forgot about his return to the team-well truthfully, you were trying to avoid it as much as you could. You weren't upset that he was returning, you were just trying to wrap your head around the fact that you'd have to see him more often. Hearing his accented voice, laughs, jokes wasn't something you could prepare for.

You could avoid him when he was at McLaren, but you didn't need to as much. Mainly because he never came to the garage just for you.

He was in too deep with the mess at McLaren since day two, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't make the time out too come see you. You knew parts of what happened at McLaren through Max, because Daniel would always talk to him. It hurt that he didn't come to you. You thought that you would still be the person he'd come to with his problems, not run away from.

Fortunately, you didn't see him at all since the announcement. Well, you were invited at a party where everyone was welcoming him but you didn't go because you weren't feeling well. Which was kind of a lie.

However, you didn't know that Daniel was only excited for the gathering because he wanted to see you. It was selfish, wanting to see you when he was the one who ended things, but if he wasn't selfish now, then he'd lose everything he needed.

Maybe he already did but he didn't want to accept it.

Once he set his mind on something, he would do anything to complete it. And now, he wanted to see you.

‘It's late, I hear the door

Bell ringing, and it's pouring’

You should be asleep by now, it's midnight and you have an early day tomorrow. But you couldn't. You want to believe that it's because you slept in today, but you know deep down that it's not.

It's hard to submit to the silence of the night when you don't want to be lonely. Fighting that thought, you step out in the kitchen to fill a glass of water. But that is long forgotten when you hear a knock on the door. You want to believe that it's just the sound of rain tapping against the wooden door.

You stood there, frozen as you watched the door, knowing that someone was standing on the other side. And you knew who it was, just didn't want to accept it yet.

Then, the doorbell rang, making you flinch as the sound was quite loud compared to the soft patter of the rain against the glass. Taking a deep breath, you decided to feel a bit of pity on the man, knowing him well enough that he didn't bring an umbrella with him.

‘I open up that door, see your brown eyes at the entrance’

As expected, all he had on was a hood that was now soaking wet. His curls laid flat on his forehead, matted due to the rain.

His eyes no longer had the brightness in them that they once did. You felt bad, but didn't say anything.

Daniel felt relief as soon as he saw you. His arms were itching to wrap around you. "Hi" he said, but his voice was rough, as if he didn't say a single word in a long time. Well, he didn't, to you.

You didn't respond. You might've been friends and something more before, but right now you did not want to engage in a normal conversation with him. Nothing in between you two was normal.

‘You just wanna talk, and I can't turn away a wet dog’

You gave in after he asked to come inside a few times. The first few times you denied, but he didn't let up. The only reason you let him in was because it was raining outside, and you didn't want him to get sick.

God, he was so clingy when sick. He would avoid you when he starts to notice that he wasn't feeling the best. But the calls and messages wouldn't stop, in fact, it would increase. Regular messages became phone calls, then video calls because he claimed that he couldn't go a day without seeing your face.

Then, when you would show up with some essentials to help him feel better-because all what he would do is try to sleep it off which never worked-he wouldn't like it at first. You would stand at the door, while he would try to hide the smile growing on his face knowing that you want to take care of him. But maybe you shouldn't have, because not only did you get sick, but you began getting used to being around him.

‘But please, don't ruin this for me

Please, don't make it harder than it already is’

You turned around but his hand instantly caught yours, turning you back around to face him, pulling you towards him. Your other hand landed on his chest to stop you from being fully pressed against him.

You looked up and just for a moment you got lost in his eyes. Being so close felt familiar yet so strange. The memories of all the times you were this close played in your mind like a movie, but that's all it was, memories.

"I'm sorry" he spoke, and perhaps it was the wrong words to start with because you were brought back to the present and immediately moved away from him.

‘I'm trying to get over this

I wish that you would stay in my memories’

"No" you whispered, quiet enough that he didn't hear the first time. "Don't say that" you continued, louder this time.

Tears were stinging your eyes, but you put in all the effort to hold them back. You didn't want to be weak in front of him. You couldn't, not anymore.

He stepped closer to you again, placing his hands on your cheeks, "but it's true. I miss you"

You brought your hands up to his, making him think you're giving in but you tore his hands away from your face. Not wanting his touch.

‘But you show up today just to ruin things’

"How can you miss me if you're the one who walked away?" You asked, not expecting a response so you walked further into your house.

You knew he wouldn't leave, which meant that you could do one of two things; try to sleep while he's in your house, or stay awake and convince him to leave.

You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep, so you decided on the second option. Walking to the kitchen, you took out two bottles of a stronger form of alcohol.

He followed you inside, looking around at the house he's seen plenty of times, still the same. He muttered a "thanks" when you passed him the bottle with little expression on your face.

You sat on the couch while he stood there, watching you. He was in a familiar place, with a familiar person, but it felt so strange. And this was all because of him.

‘I wanna put you in the past 'cause I'm traumatized

But you're not letting me do that 'cause tonight, you're all drunk in my kitchen, curled in a fetal position’

"Why weren't you at the party?" He asked, a simple question that held a stronger meaning behind. "Wasn't feeling well" you simply replied but you knew that he knew it was a lie.

You took a swig of the alcohol, wanting some liquid courage to say what you've been planning to for all this time. "You know, you don't have to come here just because you're joining the team again."

"That's what you think I'm here for?" He asked, incredulously. You looked up at him but quickly broke the eye contact because it became too overbearing, "why else?"

He sat on the couch in front of you, "there used to be a time where you didn't question me even if I came this late"

You scoffed, "why are you acting like I'm the one who ended things when you're the one who woke up one day and decided to act like we were strangers?"

‘Too busy playing the victim to be listening to me when I say 'I wish that you would stay in my memories'

"I wish I didn't" he hung his head low. It was quiet for a few moments but the silence was deafening. "Yeah, I wish you didn't."

‘In my memories, stay in my memories’

You looked around everywhere to avoid his eyes, but his were fixated on you. He still looked at you with that loving emotion, but the only difference was that his eyes also held pain in them. His bubble was bursting, and he didn't know what to do.

Standing up, you placed the empty bottle on the counter and walked towards your room. As expected, he followed.

"You know what, I'm actually glad that you're here. It'll save me a trip." You spoke as you walked to your closet, sorting through the clothes that belonged to him.

Your actions were rough, probably because of the alcohol. You never had the chance to get rid of his stuff. His stupidly expensive clothes that always smelt like him.

One by one, you threw his clothes at him in frustration. He didn't budge, letting his clothes fall to the floor as he watched you. Taking out the last hoodie you had of his, you remembered when he gave it to you.

It was raining, quite like tonight, but the circumstance was very different. That night, you two were completely sober, but drunk off of each other's presence. Walking to his home, both of you were soaking wet.

Daniel gave you a towel, telling you to go take a warm shower while he laid out his clothes for you. He was very tempted to join you, but he chose not to.

His clothes smelt like him, and you were instantly comforted. But now, that scent overwhelmed you, reminded you of what you were and what you could've been.

Throwing that last piece of clothing at him from a closer distance, you began hitting your fists against his chest. "You left me Dan. You fucking left me. God we were doing so well, I was so happy with you. But no, you had to pull some shitty move and ruin it all."

He let you express your frustration until you started crying. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. "I know, baby, I'm sorry"

‘Now I can't say, 'goodbye' if you'll stay here the whole night you see, it's hard to find an end to something that you keep beginning’

He sighed in relief when he felt your arms tightly wrap around his body. He knew he had a lot to work for; your trust, your love, and you. But he would do it. All for you.

‘Over and over again, I promise that the ending always stays the same’

His relief was very brief, because you parted away from him. Not completely because you were still in his grasp, but you were still stiff, letting him know that you were still on the edge.

"I promise I'll fix everything" he spoke, wiping your tears. You began shaking your head, "you can't"

"Give me a chance, my love, yes we can"

‘So there's no good reason in make-believing’

"You're holding on to a dream, Daniel, a memory. I'm trying my best to move on, so please just let me" you pleaded, moving away from him what felt like the millionth time.

‘That we could ever exist again, I can't be your friend, can't be your lover’

"I don't want us to be a memory, that would kill me" he closed his eyes, not wanting to believe that there would be a future without you. "I don't want you to move on, I know you have a little bit of love for me in your heart."

‘Can't be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love with someone other than me’

"Call me selfish but I don't want to see you with someone else." He continued while you were at a loss for words. Daniel held your hands, wanting something, someone-you-to ground him. He longed for your presence, your warmth.

You two stood there in silence, once again. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears.

Moving your hands out of his grasp, he hung his head low again, thinking that he lost you forever. Instead of walking away like he expected you to, you lifted his head by placing your fingers underneath his chin.

You realized that he was crying. No matter how bad things got, you've never once seen him cry. But that was because he was always happy around you. He never once felt like he did now in front of you.

Even now, his tears weren't because of you, it was because he believe that he failed. He failed because his love wasn't enough for you.

‘Since you came, I'll let you stay’

"You never give up, do you?" You asked, still sniffling. "For you, never"

"You're not going to leave me again right?" As soon as you got the words out, he began shaking his head, "not until I die"

You placed your finger on his lips, not wanting to hear such absurd thoughts, "don't you dare think about dying"

"You can't live without a heart, and the thing is, you own mine" he stated like it was a true fact. To him, you always owned his heart.

"You own mine too, always did, always will" those words made him realize that you didn't want him to leave.

He smiled, through the tears that you wiped away. "Does that mean-" he started but cut himself off when you nodded. "I still hate you for leaving me"

He hugged you, so tightly that it was almost suffocating. But, his love was all you needed to stay alive.

When he parted away from you, he still held on to you, thinking that if he let go, you'll fade away.

"I love you so, so, so much" he expressed, new tears were stinging his eyes. But it was tears of relief.

He didn't know what he'd do if you turned him down. He didn't want to think about it anymore.

"I love you" you smiled for the first time that night, resting your arms around his shoulders.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, like a school boy asking his crush for the first time ever.

You nodded, and he didn't waste a single second before claiming your lips in a slow, loving kiss. He might've asked like a young school boy but his kiss was nothing like it.

Parting away, you commented on the fact that his clothes were still very much wet, and now yours too because he was still embracing you.

"Go take a shower, or you'll get sick" you instructed. He hesitated at first, and you noticed it. "I'm not going anywhere"

"Promise?"

"I promise"

He pressed another short kiss to your lips before walking towards the bathroom. And you were on your way, making some soup because you knew that he would surely be sick.

And for the first time in a long time, you knew that everything would be alright. Because he was with you.

Your lover, your everything, your Danny.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Father’s Day

A little something for today - I maintain the Tracys would follow the US/Europe date for it rather than AUS/NZ. That’s my excuse anyway…

💛💙❤️

It had gone well. The atmosphere had been joyful. Hugs had been plentiful and the little tears of happiness badly concealed. Every scrap of the mighty takeout feast Scott had fetched from their favourite Auckland steak house had been demolished. Balloons littered the villa. MAX, in collaboration with EOS, had created a playlist that reflected every family member’s favourites spanning a good seven decades.

There had been singing, both tuneful and otherwise.

Six cards graced the mantelpiece, each varied in decoration as befitted the personality of the giver, but all containing a version of the same message - we are so glad you are home. We missed you. We love you. All but one had some reference to pink flamingos. The sixth had a remarkably detailed diagram of Thunderbird Three’s circuit of the sun.

The Man of the Moment had finally been chivvied off to bed by his mother when his head started nodding where he sat on the couch amongst his family. In her words, nobody needed to hear his boar-like snorting, but the flicker of concern in her eyes betrayed the real need to ensure he didn’t overdo it.

The eldest son of the Man of the Moment leant on the balustrade, watching the stars come out and absently swirling the whisky in his glass. The air was still warm and he had to slowly adjust the movement of his wrist to maintain the rhythm of the rapidly shrinking ‘rocks’. He’d come to prefer it un-iced anyway, but when your long-lost father offers you a sample of his secret, secret stash… well. Scott would have taken it with gravel and he would have enjoyed it.

It was good, if a little chilly. And the day had been wonderful, if a little strange. Like stretching a muscle that had gone untested for eight years. Maybe longer.

They’d never really made a big deal of the day before that in any case - even when he was alive their father had often been absent.

But there were always cards (some somewhat delayed in receipt). And he hadn’t realised until today, until he helped Dad drag a large flat box out from underneath his bed, that every card had been kept - from the first one picked out by Mom and signed on behalf of a 2-month old Scott - right up to the year Jeff disappeared. There wasn’t even a gap whilst Scott himself had been missing, thanks to the ingrained military practice of buying and writing cards in advance of deployments. Toddler scribbles, homemade masterpieces, that 4ft monstrosity Gordon had dragged home aged 10… even the obviously-last-minute convenience store purchases hurriedly signed 3 minutes before the still-damp envelope seal was broken. All were bundled together by year, little elastic bands and post-it notes delineating the passage of time.

There had been a lot of laughter, a fair amount of cringing and a few sniffles as those were explored. Happy times.

What Scott didn’t mention, what he’d never mention, was that when Jeff went missing, the cards didn’t stop. Not completely.

Every year except the first, where everything was still so raw and chaotic the day passed with nobody even knowing what date it was, there had been three Fathers’ Day cards written by the Tracy family.

Two were quietly slipped together under Scott’s door - a rare moment of collaboration between the Tinies. They were never the traditional kind, didn’t ACTUALLY mention Fathers Day on the front, but a would be a ‘blank for your own message’ card with a funny or interesting picture. Often an aircraft or some kind of bird. The contents would often be daft nonsense - silly puns, banter about the grey hairs and denial of liability for them, once a comedy poem about an albatross and the Kraken which had kept him smiling for days. But next to the signature, there’d be a little “you’re not so bad after all” or “thanks for everything, big bro” or even once a “Just wanted you to know it doesn’t go unnoticed xxx”

Nothing was ever said, but he’d find them later in the day and squeeze their shoulders or drop a kiss on the top of each head. Maybe there would be less squabbling and teenage stroppiness that day… often there wouldn’t. But things would feel lighter between the three of them for a while.

The third card was more of a letter, more of an incoherent flood of news, worries… regrets… requests for forgiveness. But it was always folded like a card for… reasons. And then folded again. And again until it was halved 7 times and couldn’t physically be squished up any smaller. Then, late at night when everyone else was asleep it would be set aflame right here on the balcony. Scott would watch the sparks fly into the sky and nurture a moment’s foolish hope that the message would be received.

No need for that this year. Dad was right here. Scott could tell him anything he wished at any moment, seek his advice, share his concerns, ask for… approval? All of that. He was right here.

And yet…

He shook himself. And downed the remainder of the whisky, flinching a little at the cold on his teeth and eyed the glass, wondering whether he could risk another one… a less rocky one. There was time for all the talking later. When he was well. When it was safe to burden him with such things. Not yet.

His pondering was interrupted by scuffling and heated whispering from just inside the balcony door behind him. He braced himself to mediate the latest nonsense from the Tinies but all went quiet and there was just a quite clack-swish of something falling through the doorway and sliding a little across the ground. Then running feet as they departed.

He looked down to see a single blue envelope at his feet. Unaddressed but for a tiny cartoon of a child’s scooter…

He rolled his eyes. Suspecting a prank was pending but, too tired to resist the inevitable, he crouched to retrieve it and slid his finger under the flap of the envelope to peer inside. Then closed it again, hurriedly. A chunky font screamed “BESTEST DAD EVER!” from the midst of a multicoloured explosion. They’d got the envelopes mixed up, clearly. He went to call after the two idiots but they were long gone.

With a sigh, he stood back up and decided he’d better chase them down but was arrested by curiosity. Both had given Dad cards earlier… what was this for? He hoped it wasn’t a prank… he didn’t think Dad was ready for that yet… they were trying to keep surprises to a minimum until his heart started behaving more reliably.

They wouldn’t, would they?

Hmm.

He’d better check.

Leaning back on to the railings with a good portion of free space in front to fling anything unpleasant into… he pulled the card from the envelope and opened it… very carefully.

Nothing exploded. Or popped out at him. There was no glitter in his eyeballs nor squeaky earworm tunes blasted from tinny micro speakers.

And yet he gasped harshly as his heart raced and his eyes blurred with sudden tears.

The card was empty but for his name at the top, Alan and Gordon’s at the bottom and two words in the middle, underlined and emphasised with a heavy full stop:

Still True.

[justarandombrit]

@femslashfortnight 23rd June - Fake Dating AU - Lautity

I really have a weird love for Fake Dating AUs so instead of doing art for this prompt, I decided to write something. It's actually the first time I've ever written Lautity so just bare that in mind while reading. (Also I don't have Ao3 so it's just below the cut)

Steph had never hated her father more.

For a man who once asked the hospital to unplug his father's life support so the sympathy over his death wasn't overshadowed by a local football match, forcing his daughter to find a date for a school dance seemed like a comparatively reasonable request. To Steph, however, her father could've stabbed her and she'd have more easily forgiven him.

Just last summer he'd carted her off to Camp Idontwannabang to protect his precious reputation because sex was evil and scandalous, and now it was all “Stephanie, as the mayor's daughter you are expected to find a fitting partner for occasions such as these. The town will begin thinking I'm forbidding you from dating, and we can't have that, can we?”

When she, admittedly quite bluntly, told him about her plan to spend the dance hanging around with Brenda and Stacy, he gave her an ultimatum.

Get a date by the dance, or he'd pick one himself.

She severely doubted her father's taste in men, especially since he'd been near constantly talking about how well-respected Brad Callaghan’s parents were in town.

She'd joked to Brenda and Stace that he'd have her going with one of the Monroe boys, but between a bleach blond twelve year old, and the biggest prick of a Linebacker she'd ever met, Trent Monroe didn't seem so bad.

In all seriousness, though, those hypotheticals would never come to fruition. She was Stephanie fucking Lauter, for Christ’s sake. She had her pick of the school, even if it was just because her dad was the mayor.

Max Jägerman would've been a safe bet, if not for the fact that they'd dated in Middle School for the worst month of her life. Plus, the breakup was messy beyond belief and even if it was just to a last minute post-game party, she suspected this would be even worse.

Both Kyle and Jason were off-limits, and she knew it. For a start, Brenda would kill her if she even touched Kyle’s arm, and she knew Max would make Jason's life a living hell, since one of his rules for his entourage was “No dating my exes on pain of wedgy”. Also, Jason had always weirdly reminded her of her father. Gross.

Brenda and Stacy were both just bad ideas. They had the somewhat rebellious factor of getting a girl instead of a guy, like she knew her dad would prefer, but Brenda was still madly in love with Kyle, and Stacy was still madly in love with Brenda. Best not to make that love triangle worse.

Maybe she should look away from the popular kids. Her dad never said anything about who the person had to be, and she kind of felt like being petty.

Her dating that bowtie kid, the Spankoffski, was definitely not flattering to her father's town-wide reputation. He was also pretty cute, but everyone knew his brother went missing a few months back, and she didn't want to lead him on when he was definitely not in the right headspace for a romantic relationship. And that fact might garner sympathy around them and turn it into one massive publicity stunt that would actually boost the Lauters’ reputation. All in all a bad idea.

Flemwad and Shitlips (she was relatively sure those weren't their actual last names, but that was the only thing anyone ever called them) were both definitely rock bottom in terms of desirability, but she had the feeling that dating either of them would drag her reputation down into the gutter too. This was about embarrassing her father, not her.

All of the other background nerds were essentially unapproachable, since she knew next to nothing about any of the other lower status students of Hatchetfield High. Although, wasn't one of them an arsonist? Definitely not.

This left, in Steph’s eyes, one candidate. One choice so crazy it just might work. Hatchetfield’s resident prude, none other than Grace Chasity.

Steph knew she looked like a creep staring down the hallway at Grace as she handed out flyers. She hadn't seen what any of the flyers had on them, but chances were it was a petition to cancel the very dance Steph was plotting about.

It might've been easier to march on down there, pick up an information pamphlet and join in on Grace's protest, but none of the Chasity family's holy crusades ever seemed to work, whether it be shutting down weed farms, boycotting diners, storming arcades, or stopping school dances. People tended to ignore them. Which was why what Steph was about to do would be so easy.

She slammed her locker shut and jammed her hands in the pockets of her trousers, Max Jägerman style. Unfortunately, women's jeans have considerably smaller pockets than letterman jackets, so she probably looked slightly awkward.

It definitely seemed to have the intended effect though, since people in the corridor shrunk away from her as she passed.

She knew getting Grace to agree to go through with her plan was a long shot, and Max might kick up a bit of a fuss, but Steph thought that out of everyone at the school, she might be the only one Grace would even consider dating. The girl was practically obsessed with her, after all.

“Hey, Chastity!” Steph shouted, getting her name wrong on purpose.

Grace’s face lit up, and she clutched her leaflets to her chest with one arm, throwing the other up to wave excitedly.

“Hi Steph! Do you want to help me hand out flyers before Biology?”

Steph desperately tried to make her smile look forced.

“As fun as that sounds, I'm actually here to ask a favour.”

Grace cocked her head to the side slightly, shifting her pamphlets to the other arm.

“It's not about the History homework is it? Steph, you know I won't help you cheat. We could do a study session in the library though! My parents might even let me stay out until 6pm!”

Ignoring both how enticing that offer sounded, and how sad the last comment was, Steph replied, “No, it's not about homework, I'll just cheat off of Spankoffski, it was actually about the dance–”

Grace looked scandalised, which Steph thought probably wasn't a good sign, but carried on anyway.

“– I don't have anyone to go with, and my dad is totally on my ass about it, so I wanted to know if you'd be chill with going with me, or, like, pretending to be my date, or something,”

Grace took a deep breath, and Steph braced herself for the verbal smackdown. Why did she think asking out the most puritanical seventeen year old on earth was a good idea?

“First of all, butt, Steph, not hmmm” –Grace hummed to avoid saying the profanity– “and secondly, I don't plan on going to this devil-worshipping sperm bank of a school party. It's a football party, Steph, a football party. We didn't even win! The Timberwolves wiped the floor with us!! And lastly, I will not ‘pretend to be your date’. We're seventeen, we shouldn't even be thinking about that stuff yet! Why would I even consider that?”

Steph really didn't want to resort to this, but her brain spit out a response before she'd had any say in the matter.

“If Max thinks you're a lesbian he'll stop trying to carry your books.”

If Steph knew what the five stages of grief actually were, she'd have assumed Grace was cycling through them now. Instead, she thought Grace looked like she'd gone from seeing a ghost, to being flustered beyond belief, to having eaten a wasp, to completely unreadable. Somehow that was the scariest one.

Grace bowed her head and avoided Steph's eyes while putting her papers in her backpack. After she'd checked they were all in there at least four times, Grace hoisted her backpack back on to her shoulder and took a deep breath.

“I- okay. Okay. Okay. I'll do it.”

It took everything in Steph not to hug Grace right there in the middle of the hallway. Instead, she shot Grace a singular finger gun and, in her best dirtbag boyfriend impression, turned around and yelled back “See you at the dance, hot stuff!”

Judging by the giggling around her, she knew Grace was probably bright red, and definitely going to kill her. Worth it.

[lilyrizzy]

Prompt: you can try to go home, but it will never feel the same

anon i know you probably wanted some daniel returning to redbull angst with this one, but i am nothing if not diaspointing lol, so have a self absorbed 'in that iron ground' sequal i wrote instead.

cw: parental death, angst, speculation on what it means to be the 'biological' parent or not of a child

“Here you are.”

 Max’s voice comes from behind him, but Daniel doesn’t turn from where he’s watching the gentle rise and fall of their daughter’s chest, the way the colourful lights from the mobile dance across her face in the darkened room.

“I’ve read they decided those types are bad for babies now,” Michelle had told him earlier, in that critical, been there, done that parent way, with just a healthy dose of big sister smugness thrown in, as she’d watched him attach it to the crib. It’s so old. Daniel wonders if it wasn’t the same one he slept in.

 Like father, like daughter.

 “I thought you had got lost on your way from the bathroom.”

 Daniel still doesn’t look up, but he hears the telltale ‘click,’ of Max switching off the baby monitor. Daniel has joked, more than once, about how Max had it surgically attached to his hip 6 months ago, when she first came into their world. Red-faced, and kicking, and the best decision they ever made.

 He comes to stand beside Daniel.

 Everybody else is downstairs. It’s past ten but even the kids are still up. Izzy is ‘waiting for Santa,’ and Isaac is shooting Daniel eye-rolls over her head, as though to prove he’s a grown-up because now he knows the truth. Max has been quizzing Michelle endlessly on the pro’s and con’s of different milk warming systems, and his mum has been sat listening with her new boyfriend—Tim’s—hand on her knee, and Daniel just-

 He just needed a minute.

 “Sorry,” he murmurs, not wanting to disturb Emilia, though anyone would know she was Max’s daughter by her ability to sleep through an earthquake alone, “I just-“

 “Wanted a moment?” Max supplies, because of course he knows when it comes to his family.

Daniel nods. Emilia makes a little noise, a groan, like she’s thinking about protesting their loving stares, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“It’s weird,” Daniel eventually gets out. “Coming home, and there’s another man sitting with my mum on the couch.”

But it’s not even about that, not really. Tim is nice, he makes his mum laugh and Michelle tells him regularly over the phone, “she’s really happy, Daniel. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile so much since dad.” He shakes Daniel’s hand and asks him about his new job with the Redbull junior team, and when his mum sent Emilia her first party dress in the post, she had signed his name right next to ‘grandma’ on the card.

Besides, if Daniel ever- He’d want Max to find somebody else too. Even if the idea of it makes Daniel sick to his stomach, makes him want to do something crazy like tattoo his name onto Max’s chest, the thought of him being alone forever is worse.

Max’s hand comes to cup the back of his neck, to rub his thumb over the muscle that he knows aches more these days than it used to.

“When my mum got her first boyfriend, I did not like it also,” he admits, though it doesn’t sound like a feeling he is shying away from. “I know it is not the same, but I think always it is strange to see your mum with somebody else."

It is, but maybe what’s stranger is the way it took Daniel getting to the ranch for him to realise that his dad wouldn’t be here for his daughter’s first Christmas. He’d spent the first evening looking helplessly around the dinner table at everybodys faces, foolishly stunned to learn that the sudden life of her couldn’t raise his father from the ground.

“Sometimes I still have to remember,” he admits, because it suddenly feels too shameful to keep a secret. “That he’s- That my dad is dead.”

He forces the words past his teeth, eyes fixed on the slight purse of Emilia’s lips. It’s something he’s been practicing with his therapist; not shying away from saying the truth. You’d think that after five years it would feel like that, but Daniel still finds there are days when his fingers twitch to call the contact he still can’t bear to delete from his phone book.

From the corner of his eye, Daniel can see Max nod but stay silent, like he’s been given a particularly tricky problem that he’s trying to find a solution for.

“He was here for longer than he has not been here,” he eventually says, like the hole in Daniel’s life is something that can be plugged with logic.

“True,” Daniel agrees anyway, because he knows that Max is trying, and it’s unfair to expect him to have the answers when Daniel doesn’t even know what he is asking for.

The closest thing he can think of is, ‘do you think my dad would still have loved her even without any of my DNA,’ but it’s a cruel thing to ask Max, who so desperately wanted Daniel to be the biological father. Besides, it’s not like Max would know what to say to that anyway.

“Also,” Max continues, a hesitant edge to his voice now, “of course it will be more sad this time. To bring Emilia and know he is not here to see her.”

That’s closer. Daniel can feel it, the way the words pang in his chest.

Yet, to hear it while looking down at his daughter’s sleeping body, it crests an entirely different wave of fear inside him.

There will be a time when this is her, when she’ll be spending Christmas night in the house where she grew up, but that she no longer lives in, and Daniel won’t be there to see her open her presents in the morning. It’s ridiculous really. He’s never spent one holiday with her yet, and he’s already worried about the ones he’ll miss.

“When me and Michelle were kids, on Christmas night my dad would cover the floor in flour,” he begins to recount, the words made of his desire to bridge the gap between what his father was to him then, and who Daniel is now. “He would make footprints in them, all the way from the chimney to the tree and back again, for us to find in the morning. He did it for Isaac too, made Santa’s footprints, we- We should do that for Emilia, when she is old enough.”

When he looks at Max, he’s smiling. Softly, the hue of the mobile turning the tips of his mousy hair golden. He nods, reaching for Daniel’s hand, and sliding his fingers into the four gaps between Max’s feels like coming home more than boarding a plane ever has.

“I hope I am a dad like yours,” Max whispers. The and not like mine hangs so heavy in the air, Daniel doesn’t need for him to say it to hear it.  

Still, he answers him-

“I hope we are better than both of them.”

[undrgrnd-nft]

Tezos Goes Big

I really didn’t want to write this, I swear. I have real work to do, podcasts to edit and my daughter is home sick; but, it’s like holding in a sneeze, when I have something to say it’s best to get it out.

This is not about the @tezos event at Art Basel Miami. It may be what is driving the conversation but this is not really about the displays in a lobby of a hotel.

This is the culmination of years of disrespect to a driving force of adoption and endemic of the crypto space (and society) at large.

Art rejuvenating dead space is not a novel concept. In fact, in Miami, there’s an entire area that could have been used as a template by all blockchains. It’s called Wynnewood, look it up and you’ll get the New York Times article I reference all the time.

What was once an industrial park became a hub for restaurants, music and entertainment: culture.

Why? Because some graffiti artists began painting on the cold gray walls of a concrete jungle.

Did those artists share any of the financial gain brought to the neighborhood? No, but think of the exposure!

Web3 was not built by nor built for creatives like us (yea, I’m putting myself in that group, shut up about it). It was built by boys and men that look, talk and act like me (white, male, presumable douchey based on appearance) but lack a moral and emotional foundation.

They use the right words, have picked up key phrases and platitudes, but at the core it’s not about the things many of us value. It’s not about art.

It’s not about a reorganization of institutions that were built to keep specific classes, races and sexes subservient.

It is not building a utopian-Marxist future where the moral and decent are rewarded financially for their collective effort.

Look at the state of streaming services: Netflix, Hulu, Paramount, Peacock, Max. What was once meant to disrupt the cable industry has now become Cable Networks 2.0.

The same is true in crypto. What started as a revolution has become a hype parade led by influencers masquerading as cultural relevance.

Remember the @TezosFoundation Permanent Collection drama? In a Twitter space shortly after things began to spiral downward, one of the leads made a comment on the criticisms, “if this is the response maybe we won’t do this again.”

We all knew it then.

But many of us came here to create something better. So we, many of them my friends, gave second chances, put a positive spin on it and took their opportunity when it was offered.

I was jealous.

Because I would have done the same.

UNDRGRND is just me: a stay at home dad, taking care of a toddler who disrupts the means of production constantly. I know how hard it is to put together something and share it with an audience.

But so does every artist I write about.

So when we watch people with large budgets, people who are able to make a living on crypto already, getting paid to present the work of others and the result is done with the level of care it takes to hang a Missing Cat poster on a telephone pole, it’s infuriating.

Many of the artists I’ve gotten to know over these past three years were creative directors in their web2 lives. Do you know what they could have done with a fraction the amount of money @tezos has in its war chest?

It’s disrespectful.

It always has been.

I’m going to push post on this in a few minutes and the anxiety is rising. I know others are going to criticize what I’m launching in the coming months.

I’m in a glass house throwing rocks.

The difference is I’m not deluded enough to think I have all the answers or have an ego like I’ve done anything yet.

I’m just a guy writing about the things I like while my four-year-old sleeps on me.

This was never about the display.

It was about the devaluation of creatives for years and the continuation of a broken social contract that promised an idealistic future.

So heed the lesson because we’re tired of this shit.

And I’m fucking coming…

- Founder of UNDRGRND, @NFTjoe

[goddesspharo]

For the Fanfiction Writing Asks: 35, 36, 40, 46, 56, and 75. A lot, but you’re a fave and I’m so curious!

[fic writing asks!]

Thanks for asking!

35. What's your favorite fic you've posted?

Definitely can't fake what you can't break up with, which I will finish soon. (I think I'm so slow about writing-not writing the last chapter because there's a part of me that doesn't want it to end because it has been so much fun to write! It's been a ton of fun to take a very trope-y soapy concept (drunk married in Vegas, continued marriage For Reasons) and spin it out into all the things. It's also ridiculously long so this year when NaNoWriMo rolls around and I say that I can't do it because I can't possibly meet that type of word count in a month, it'll be a bold-faced lie.

36. What fic are you proudest of?

Probably not every conversation is a new grenade, a post-The Batman fic that was, up until then, the longest fic I'd ever written at like 16k (I wish I could keep things that short these days!) after like a five year gap of not writing any fic. There would be a point during the writing process in the past when I'd just get tired of writing a thing and finish it while leaving a bunch of things I wanted to incorporate on the cutting room floor, but I really saw this one through. I'd only watched The Batman once (maybe twice?) before sitting down to write this - it was pretty early into the theatrical release so WB hadn't kicked it onto Max yet - so I'm particularly pleased with how on point the voices were. I also love nearly every iteration of Bruce/Selina and therefore don't write them as much (it's the old Austenian "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more") because I cannot be objective about how they should just be together, why won't you just let them be together, DC so probably the biggest accomplishment of all is that I even wrote this. It was also just a blast to do and gave me an excuse to bust out the 90s grunge playlist at the very beginning and then just listen to so much BANKS that I could not stop for weeks afterwards.

40. What is your favorite world that you've created for a fic?

The Bear as a band AU in put in in a zip-lock bag. Interestingly, a very natural stretch to transplant people from a chaotic kitchen setting to a chaotic, dysfunctional band setting. Mikey as a Kurt Cobain figure practically writes itself. Years of Behind the Music made this possible! I loved the experience of writing that fic and I loved that world! Everyone could be quietly devastated without burning down the kitchen (no promises about the Lollapalooza stage though).

46. If you could only write one type of AU for the rest of your life, what would it be?

I was going to say Enemies-to-Lovers, hands down, but that's not an AU, I guess. It would be boring to write one type of AU forever, but if I had to choose I'd go with the tried and true spy AU. (...she says as she still has her current spy!AU remains in WIP hell.) As Sydney Bristow has taught us, Spy!Barbie can be anything so you could theoretically have an AU within your one AU and game the system. Also spies are the best! All popped collars and dead drops and so much guilt about the things they've done and the people they've let down. God, we need Alias back and by that I mean put the original show on streaming with the original music since every replacement track they used because they couldn't get licensing for streaming is terrible.

56. Are there any fics that you would change or rewrite if given the chance?

That is one spiral I refuse to go down! Once it's out there, it is what it is. I've never wanted to go back and change any fics in a big way (I have gone back and fixed a grammatical error here and there that escaped notice during the editing process) because I wouldn't post it if I wasn't happy with it at the time. There are fics that I wish I had maybe finished before posting (ah, TGM!spy!AU, why are you so elusive?) because now they are albatrosses that I want to finish, know exactly how to finish, and yet can't finish.

75. Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn't expect?

I never know how anything will be received so I don't even try to guess. I operate on a "don't time the market" philosophy except about fic - it is beyond my control so why perseverate over it? I guess I was surprised by how much traction deflect and absorb got. I don't know why, but I think we were all riding the high of a new Jurassic Park movie after like fifteen years (longer if you ignore Jurassic Park III) and had yet to experience "The Worst Chris" burnout (ugh, he really is the worst though) when Jurassic World came out. It was definitely my big dumb blockbuster that summer! In 2015, it wasn't automatically guaranteed that everything would get a handful of shitty sequels so you could live in the space of just enjoying a movie for what it was without thinking about how they were going to mess it up by stretching it out past the expiration date.

[gggreengoblin]

Room 3033

I wrote some itty bitty fic, Halloween edition, of Maxiel where they were ghosts. Basically, they were just doing their things (wandering around a hospital) but ended up causing chaos in the maternity unit.

CW :: mention of death and blood but nothing graphic

Being stuck in one place was boring, especially for a long time.

Daniel didn't know how long they had been in this place. He had lost count of how many dawns they had seen here, how many full moons had passed, and how many seasons had passed. Time and space slowly blurred and became one.

Maybe if he were trapped here alone or with another ghost, he would lose his sanity. But he had to thank whoever was up there. He still had Max, even in the eternality of death.

Everything had changed, and it happened constantly and quickly, especially within these white walls of a hospital. Patients came and went, came in sick, and would leave after a couple of days, either because they were getting better or dead. The doctors, nurses, pharmacists, and janitors changed too. Only the ghosts who bounded into this hospital remain the same. They were just a group of lost souls, frozen in time and shackled by space.

Daniel was lying down on the last bed he slept in. On his final days, the room felt cold to the point that it made his bones ache. The lights used to be so bright, piercing his eyes through his eyelids. And the room was noisy because of the 'beep, beep' sound from the medical equipment. But it had changed. That day, the room was empty for the first time in months. Its last patient had died. It was another post-surgery complication case. That young woman's death was leaving the room dark, quiet, and a little colder than usual.

“Let's do something, Daniel. Why are you trying to sleep? Of course, ghosts can't sleep," Max said. He sat next to Daniel's right leg.

Daniel looked at the younger man. Max looked very pale in the dark room, especially since there was only moonlight illuminating that room, coming in through the crack in the window. The pale light was hitting his ghostly white skin.

Max wore a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, dark blue t-shirt. It was his last outfit—the last thing he wore before their accident. He still looked as beautiful as ever. Nothing was out of place. Not a spec of blood splattered on his pale clothes. Not a single hair was out of place.

Daniel was grateful Max could appear like this, not in his final state. The memory of their last moments was starting to fade with time. But if he remembered correctly, it was like a nightmare. Their blood was everywhere. He was also thankful he didn't look like his last day. How terrible it would be if he had to go through eternity with only half of his limbs intact.

"Where do you want us to go?" Daniel rose from his sleeping position. He straightened his brown shirt again, which would never get wrinkled—a perk of being a ghost. He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Wherever. It doesn't matter. Just not here. Boring."

“I saw in the children's ward that there were lots of people bringing costumes. I think today is Halloween. Do you want to go there, Maxy?” Daniel offered his suggestion. They loved Halloween when they were alive, so why should they stop after their death?

"No. I don't want to ruin that sick children’s night."

“I think we’ll be fine if we keep being invisible.”

“What if we accidentally scare them?” It was Max's biggest crime. Sometimes, he would accidentally slip into the human dimension and materialize in front of unsuspecting eyes.

Yes, being a ghost was hard. After years, they still made mistakes. They had scared some unlucky humans without meaning to. All of them were accidents.

“Then where do you want to go? Geriatrics? Watching old people sleep?"

“Too sad.”

“Trauma unit?”

Max shook his head. "What about the maternity unit?"

He didn't understand why Max wanted that. It was the least exciting unit in the building, saved by some juicy paternity drama for once in a while. “You want to see babies?”

"They sleep all the time, so it's not a problem.

Yeah, whatever. Daniel would do anything to keep Max happy. So they floated onto the third floor. They had to bypass a pediatric room where a kid was wearing a Batman costume. Nice choice. If he could be a hero, he would choose to be Batman too. Rich, handsome, and strong. What a combination!

The ward was as quiet as a cemetery. Not a single nurse walked the hallway. The babies were quiet, spending their first few hours on earth with their mamas.

Max stopped in front of a door. He read the patient information there. “Daniel, have you ever heard that Asian babies are the cutest babies in the world?" He showed the name on the patient’s information form: ‘Kim Jeong Eun.’

Daniel had never seen a Korean baby before.

Max entered the room by going through the door. Daniel followed him.

The room was dim. There was only a nightlight to accompany a mother and her baby. Daniel was surprised because no man was sleeping on the sofa in this room.

Max walked over to the baby's crib, next to the mother's bed. He looked very enthusiastic.

Daniel saw that the woman still looked tired and swollen. Women who have given birth always look like that. He knew after seeing his sister give birth.

Max was standing next to the baby's crib. He reached out his pale hand to the baby's face.

"Max, don't touch the baby," Daniel said, “they will feel your cold energy.”

"Just a moment, Daniel." "Look, she's so beautiful."

Max was right. The baby was adorable. She was swaddled up in a pink blanket with a floral motif. She had very thick, black hair, far from Daniel's two nephews when they were just born.

Max smiled at the baby. The one he used to have when he met his nibbling He looked like he wanted to hold the baby. Maybe, if they were still humans, Max would ask the mother to let him hold this baby.

Daniel could imagine Max becoming a father. He would be a very loving father to his children. He would take care of his blonde babies with great patience and dedication. But unfortunately, death took them before all that could happen.

"Max, have you ever wanted to be a father?" Daniel blurted it out without thinking. He wanted to slap himself for asking that question. Even as a ghost, he still didn't stop saying stupid things. His intrusive thoughts always won their battles.

Max stopped rubbing his finger on the little girl's cheek and looked at Daniel with wide blue eyes. “I never thought about that, Daniel. I don't think I would be a good father.”

“You are much better than your father.” Daniel squeezed Max's shoulder. “If only you were given the chance, you would be the best father in the world. I know it."

“I think you will be much better than me. It's all over, Daniel. We- it's better not to think about that.”

Something happened. In a blink of an eye, Max lost his translucency. His body started to materialize into a human dimension.

“Max, what are you doing?” Daniel wanted to scream.

“Shit! Shit!” said Max. He panicked and took his fingers away from the baby's cheek, which was starting to squirm in her swaddle.

"Don't shout, Max! What if they can hear you?"

The baby started crying loudly. She was screaming her lungs out.

'No! No! No! Please, no!' Daniel screamed inside his head. He tried to calm the baby down by patting her body, but it was a fruitless attempt. He was still in his ghost form. He couldn't 'touch' living things.

“Daniel, what should I do? I can't go back!” Max tried to hide behind the white curtain. But he still couldn't disappear. He stocked out his head, looking for an answer from Daniel.

The baby's cry woke up the mother. With her panicked eyes, she looked around the room. Her eyes land on Max.

She rushed to take her baby into her arms. She was crying and breathing rapidly. She spoke a language that Daniel couldn't understand. She mumbled to herself as if she were praying while holding her baby.

“Focus, Max!”

“I'm focused!” he shouted in his panicked voice.

“You are still visible! She's still looking at your feet. Damn it!” Daniel saw that the woman seemed short of breath and pale. Cold sweats were beading on her skin.

"I'm trying, Daniel!"

It took a couple more minutes for the curtain to return to its normal condition. It finally became flat because Max could float through it again. Max had become invisible again for the patient. He floated next to Daniel.

"What are we doing? She looks like she's going to faint,” said Daniel.

“Call the nurse's station.”

"Is that possible?"

“Drop the phone. I'll press the button."

It took a lot of energy to drop the phone without being materialized. Daniel had to use all his focus to do that.

Once the phone handle was upside down, Max pressed the nurse station number.

"It's connected, Daniel. Say something to the nurse!"

“Yeah."

"Hi! Hello. I am from the room-” He looked around the room to see the room number.

Max stuck his head through the door. "3033."

“3033.” He parroted it into the phone.

'Yes, what can we do to help you, sir?' The nurse said.

“She's- the mother and her baby are not doing well. I think she is panicking. Can you come and take a look?”

'Okay, we'll be there soon.'

Daniel hung up the phone. "Let's get out of here, Max." He took Max's arm and led him up onto the roof.

They needed to go. They already made a big mess that night; there was no need to stay, which made things worse.

……………………………………

It was 6 a.m., and you needed some coffee to keep you awake. It was just one more hour until the end of your shift, but things were getting too much for you.

The night shifts were always exhausting and demanding. You already knew that. You took a short break before your shift and needed to buy some strong coffee from the cafeteria.

You met your senior there, Leslie, the one from the ER. She looked ruff with bags under her eyes and messy buns. You knew you looked the same.

"Morning, Leslie," you said.

Leslie just nodded and kept sipping her plain black coffee.

“Last night, something strange happened during my shift. There was a call from room 3033. Someone called the nurse station. It was a man, even though the mother was alone. Her husband wasn’t in the hospital."

She put her coffee down and looked at you. "What did the voice that called you sound like?"

“Young man, Australian. He said the mother was freaking out.”

Leslie chuckled at you. “Oh my God, he told you the mother was freaking out but didn’t tell you he was the one who made the poor woman panic.”

“What do you mean, Leslie?”

“Oh, that's nothing new. Don't worry about them. They are harmless.” Leslie said it plainly. It was just common knowledge, which it wasn’t.

"What?" You were shocked. No one told you that this hospital was properly haunted. Well, yeah, it was a hospital, probably haunted, but you had hoped it wasn't.

“What did your patient see?” Leslie said again.

“A blonde man next to her baby.”

“Ehem.” She sipped her coffee again. “I think it was just Max and Daniel.”

What the heck?

How could she know the ghosts' names?

You cleared your dry throat. "How do you know?"

“All the senior employees of this hospital know about them. They often make some disturbances during the night shift. Mischievous but not evil. What your patient described, he looked like Max. Blonde and young, mid-twenties, right?"

You nodded.

“And the one who called seems to be Daniel because you said he had an Australian accent."

"Yes." You agreed again. All the descriptions Leslie gave you match your patient’s story.

“They often wander around in the ICU, but sometimes appear in another unit too. I used to look after one of them. It was a serious accident. Both of them died after their emergency surgeries.”

"Damn." You chugged your coffee. You needed to find your unit supervisor and ask her for less night shift.

[clover-system]

I follow 750 people, and about 20 of those are mutuals. I joined almost ten years ago at this point, way before there was an algorithm like the for you page (which is like two years old, max). Back before they started generating a feed for you the only ways to see posts at all would be following users to get posts on your dash or by exploring tags. Exploring tags constantly can get annoying so I followed people.

I only have about 200 followers total but I've had multiple posts breach containment - to keep my sanity I just turned off push notifications entirely except for when I get a dm. If you really want to stop a post from clogging up your activity feed while it's blowing up, the mute button has never really worked well according to reports - but you can delete the original post if you want. You'll never get a reblog in your feed again.

The reason I follow so many people is because I do like being able to see as many posts as I have time for - I follow a large amount of artists, some who only post once or twice a month, so that alone would truly be an empty feed. And on top of that I'd estimate at least 150 of them are dead blogs that haven't updated in five years because I don't have the heart to unfollow people who've moved on. I like to reblog a lot - before a lot of people flooded in from other social medias, reblogging was "the thing" you did on tumblr to a post you liked. It was really common for a post to have more reblogs than likes, with likes functioning more like bookmarks than anything. I haven't really changed how I view interacting on tumblr in a long time, but the culture here sure has changed around me. When I'm in the swing of things, I run a queue of 45 reblogged posts a day. I prefer to see posts to reblog as they get posted and reblogged by people and blogs I know, instead of always seeing posts from strangers. In my head the same post can have a different flavor coming from different users reblogging it. I enjoy having a lot of posts on my dash but I don't want the tumblr algorithm (which has a history of being flaky, making nonsensical decisions, and not giving you enough control over what you see) to be in charge of the content, I much prefer to see stuff curated by people I trust and share interests with. I hope this makes sense. Good luck with the too many notes! Tens of thousands really gets overwhelming at times.

If you really want to stop a post from clogging up your activity feed while it's blowing up, the mute button has never really worked well according to reports - but you can delete the original post if you want. You'll never get a reblog in your feed again.

Finally, someone who actually addressed the issue! Thanks!! Though I kinda wanna keep the post on my profile as functionally a souvenir, lol. Maybe I'll take it down if it bursts again.

before a lot of people flooded in from other social medias

When was this btw? What was the tipping point? When did likes become more common than reblogs? I always make sure to reblog/queue a bunch because I was told about that immediately. There have been a few movements to and from Twitter, TikTok, and Reddit.

before a lot of people flooded in from other social medias

Ack, why 45? That's so close to 50, the limit!

Good luck with the too many notes! Tens of thousands really gets overwhelming at times.

Yeah, thanks. Have fun in the processing vortex.

[golbrocklovely]

I fucking need to get it off my chest , because if I don’t i might kll someone :

Sam posted an ask , simply something like “what was your least fav video/thing from our recent videos?” And i saw some people reacting to it like : “EVerything? You guys are all empty promises about nee videos on Sunday , but you barely even post” or some shit like this. And when i tell you my blood BOILED ! First of all , Snc never or at least nothing I remember made empty promises. They always tells us on which sunday the vid is gonna drop and it alzways does ( and when there are some complications , they tell us as well and inform us about unfortunate delay of a vid… but that happens… rarely) and second of all!!!!!!! ————-> SAM AND COLBY ARE NOT FUCKING MACHINES AND YOUR UNGRATEFUL ASSES ON TWITTER NEEDS TO CALM DOWN! They do basicallly everything on their O w N ! They film , they montage it and then upload it … It takes time ffs. Like when did they filmed the vid with Boys ? Two moths ago? And we will probably get it this Sunday ( almost Fcking May! ) . Sam and Colby put a good amount of work for their every video. The videos are so well done and so entertaining to watch that even non believers admitted to watch it for pure entertainment, because those videos are just genuinely good and interesting. But guess what? To create something great you need a lot of timeee and a lot of worrk. Snc are humans too and i am so pissed that some of their “fans” do not seem to get that and treat them almost like ma chines. “Omg boohoo poor me , it’s another sunday and no Snc video” . You guys are so annoying. Find a life! Ok? Then maybe you would stop crying about ridiculous things like people being people and not machines that post every Sunday , 1h+ long videos with great montage that includes sound effects, cuts , extra images etc. Sam and Colby at least have life and do some work yk? Maybe if you could find yourself one then you wouldn’t care that much and reduce your time spent on Twitter and Internet and realize that there is a life outside of it in which people do not cry over some YouTube videos omfg.

what a timely ask (from yesterday) for what came out today from xplrclub lol

i agree with you. any fan that expected every sunday to get a vid from them just hasn’t listened to snc, who literally gives us a couple days notice of when they plan to post.

the issue with the videos taking so long, and thus only having one a month, will hopefully be solved soon since they hired on more editors. bc that was their main issue since colby has been the only one editing while sam gives notes to the other editor about the (basically) finished video.

i can understand why fans are upset for the very slow build up of videos this past year, but that frustration doesn’t mean you get to go balls to the wall crazy, saying whatever you want about snc in the hopes that things will changed.

not to mention they have been posting once a month for years now (maybe twice if they get lucky) minus hell weeks, so…. why is anyone acting surprised by this? not to mention they have a whole ass other channel where they post weekly/biweekly - the react one.

and if anyone brings up the old days, aka xplr era, those videos were only 20 minutes long max most times and were all filmed in succession in one state with JUST snc. the times have changed. move on and accept it or leave 🤷🏻‍♀️

[my-practiceblog]

If I could start all over pt 2

I had posted a while back on if I started back at age 12 knowing everything I know now, what changes I would make.  That was a long post, but I have a lot more to add, and this probably will not be my last post on the topic either.  This post will focus on money.

Currently we’re still at middle/high school.  I turned 12 in 2007.  As we all know, the recession came in 2008.  I did not have much money at the time, obviously, but I did have some from money my grandpa left me when he died, as well as small savings from allowance, babysitting, birthdays, etc.  After the recession hit I would invest everything I had, leaving myself maybe $100 in savings (I’d be a kid, what do I really need more than that for) in a mix of index funds and FAANG companies.  I would continue babysitting, and attempt to get a job as a lifeguard once I am old enough, and continue putting money into stocks.  As I got a bit older until I graduated college I would leave myself more money in savings for things like eating out and other activities with my friends.  

I would take all my money out of investments the summer of 2019.  I would reinvest everything March 2020.  I would take it all out again fall 2021.  I would slowly reinvest it, putting a bit in each week into Index funds starting September 2022.

I currently have both a Roth IRA and two 401ks (once with my current, one with my former employer).  I believe I started my Roth IRA in 2018 (and have maxed it out each year since), but I actually started working in 2017.  I should have started, and maxed out my Roth IRA in 2017 (even if that means taking money out of my other investments to fund my IRA).  I did, and continue to put a large chunk of my paycheck into my 401k, but I wish I put in even more.  Going back I would get as close to maxing out my 401k as I could without it impacting my spending.  I don’t want to have to lower my standard of living to save more, especially since my standard of living wasn't all that high when I first graduated, but pretty much anything outside of my spending + maybe $200 a month in savings should go to my 401k until it is maxed out  (at least until 2020).  Dependent of how much money I am making in this “new life” if may be much easier for me to max out my 401k, or have way more than $200 leftover for savings, but this is just given that I end up in the same jobs I had, and the content creation career (that I will talk about in my next post) does not go anywhere.

I was very hesitant to spend money when I was in college.  I knew my money was finite, because I didn’t have a job (outside of the summer and a few small paid things throughout the year) so I was always nervous to deplete it.  However, I didn’t realize my entire lifesavings to age 22 I would easily be able to double in just a few paychecks once I got my first real job (or if everything went right with this redo, way sooner than that).  Going back I would have been more willing to spend on fun things with my friends, especially since my parents covered all of my necessities. I wouldn’t want to go overboard or anything, but at least going out to eat with my friends whenever they asked.  Once I get my first job and am earning a real paycheck I would figure out an actual spending plan.

I bought a condo in the winter of 2021.  While ideally if I started over I would have way more money/options, no matter what I still would buy this same condo exactly when I did.  The only change I would make is putting in an offer sooner and maybe for $5000 less than what I bought it for.  Currently I share this apartment with a roommate.  If I do end up at my same job with my same salary I would want to keep that the same, only putting stricter cleaning rules in to place when she first moved in.  But she’s moving out this summer and while she’s lived here she has traveled a ton and I have regularly had the apartment to myself which has been great, especially since living with her hasn’t had any big issues.  However, if I had much more money I would still want to have bought this apartment with the interest rate I got it for, but instead I would not live here and rent the whole apartment out.  I would live either in the city or somewhere warm, but I will get into that in a future post I’m sure.

Not going to get into it, but I would also warn my dad against his former partner, and encourage him to break up that partnership as soon as possible (at least by my sophomore year).  If that were the case certain things I paid for my parents probably would have instead, and other things they would not have struggled with.

Okay that’s it on this one, I’m sure money will come up more down the line, but here are all the big things.

[greypetrel]

From the tarot prompts:

The World for Max

The Hanged Man for Raina!

Hi Mo! ✨ Thank you for asking! I'll do a second post for the other and tag you, but since I already started these prompts with Max, I'll go with Raina first.

Tis the prompt List (if you're reading and want to, ask another!)

Next day edit: I kinda don't like it much so I MAY discard this and rewrite it completely with another idea I have. For now it stays up, in the future who knows.)

Just One More Year

[ Random shenanigans at the Hawkes' | Mature tagging, mentions to sex but not too explicit | 2987 words ]

The Hanged Man Upright: sacrifice, waiting, uncertainty, lack of direction, perspective, contemplation Reversed: stalling, disinterest, stagnation, avoiding sacrifice, standstill, apathy

9:28 Dragon, Lothering.

“Is your brother seeing anyone?”

It wasn’t exactly something Raina expected, or particularly wanted for Millie Fairchild to say in that moment. Not as she was rummaging through hay to find her petticoat, still only in her stays and chemise. Raina didn’t manage to convince her to take her stays off once again, and right now, most of the hopes to one day be able to soured at their core.

Still, she focused on the view before her: her own clothes took less to put on and off, since she came there to work and wore Garrett’s old breeches. She would have gladly burnt all the petticoats and dresses her mother forced her to keep and wear on occasions, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy frills and lace on other people. They surely suited Millie, and made her want to lunge forward and try better at taking the damn stays off.

But, Millie turned to her, tilting her head to the side in a cascade of dark curls and rose her eyebrows. With an air of expectation on her face and that severe bend of her lips that made Raina’s knees grow weak.

Raina shrugged, leaning back on her arms and caring not if she was still wearing just her breeches.

“I have no idea.” She huffed. “I don’t understand why it’s relevant.”

“Sure.” Millie snorted, sarcastically, as she turned and kept rummaging through hay. “You’re as thick as thieves and always together, when you’re not working. You must know. So? Is he spoken for?”

Raina did like Millie. She was direct and took no shit from others, knew what she wanted and went for it. It had started like that, between them. Raina had asked her mother, who used to work as a guard in Redcliffe, to teach her to wield a sword. In exchange, she helped out in their farm. Millie was there, and it was actually her who approached her, a month ago, saying she noticed how she kept gawking at her. Do something about it or stop, it’s annoying. It came as a dare, a frown on her face and arms crossed at her chest. Raina acted on an impulse, and did something about it.

They kissed as soon as no one was watching, and a couple of weeks ago, Millie had dared her to take things further. It had been nice: if Raina had no idea of what she was doing, Millie didn’t either. But today, Raina must have done something right, because all of a sudden, Millie had arched her back, with a longer, more ragged moan that made Raina stop on her track, quite worried about her. Millie was ok, as she said panting some moments later, and she had kissed her long and deep.

Raina thought it had meant something, and noticing that her… lover? Lover wasn’t budging or saying it was a joke, her mood soured.

“Why do you care?”

“Why shouldn’t I? He’s handsome and kind, and I for myself don’t want to become a spinster.”

It hurt. It hurt a lot, but as it was, Raina smiled through it, leg bouncing up and down with a frush of moved hay.

“Of course. Better an asshole than a spinster, you’re perfectly right.” It came out, as she wanted, with the sweet, condescending tone her mother tried to teach her for years. If she could hear her now, using it so well to make Millie stop on her track and turn on her, a frown on her face and mouth open in offence.

Maybe it wasn’t the case Leandra suddenly appeared there, tho.

Not before Raina found her shirt and put it on again. And her stays. She was taller than anyone in the house, and if anyone found her pair, Millie wouldn’t have been able to say it was hers. She started to look for them, then, not waiting for an answer.

“What the fuck, Hawke?”

Millie stopped moving, not a sound coming from her direction anymore. Raina didn’t care, nor she turned back, scooping handfuls of hay away in search of her missing clothes. She didn’t answer her, all she had to say she did, and she frankly didn’t want to go on that conversation.

“You’re seriously taking offence for this?”

The thing that Raina liked about Millie was that she was self-assured and knew what she wanted. The point now was that she knew she didn’t want Raina. Or well. Not permanently, that was. The thought about the… Arrangements made her nauseous. To distract herself, she started to look for her clothes as well. At this point, she wouldn’t care even if Millie set both their stays on fire.

“Wow, very mature. Are you now pretending I don’t exist anymore just because… What?”

Yeah, what? Raina frowned, the glomp in her throat becoming bigger and more annoying. It would have been easier if she could cry, but as usual no tears came forth. It was for the better, tho: the last thing she wanted was to cry in front of Millie. There was something more productive to be had, like peeking at a corner of fabric in the hay, and fishing out a petticoat and an undershirt.

She threw the petticoat back to Millie, and from the umph she heard, she aimed well. The undershirt was hers, the size and lack of frills -she tore the ribbon out months ago- made it easy to recognize. She slipped into it quickly, tucking it into her breeches.

“You really plan not to talk to me? Seriously, Hawke?”

“Oh, sorry.” Raina said, sarcastically. “I believed you got confused with the Hawkes and wanted to talk to Garrett and not me. It’s easy to confuse us, after all, we’re both tall.”

Her stays were hanging on the top step of the ladder that headed to the loft where they were, where the hay for the cows was kept. Lucky that Millie’s mother hadn’t entered the barn, or that would have been visible. A corded, big, leather flag pointing up at the lofted hay reserve. She put it on without much grace.

“Oh, sweet Andraste, you’re such a child.” Millie strode through the hay, circling Raina until she faced her. “What were you thinking we were doing?”

“… Tumbling? Caboodling? Dancing the horizontal tango?” Raina kept up with the sarcasm, tying the strings on the front more tighly against her body. She turned around, giving her back to Millie again.

“Yes, that. And you thought it meant anything else.”

“You have been so clear on the matter, clearly my bad.”

“I…” Millie hesitated, at that. Huffing to her nose. “Listen.”

A hand pressed on her arm, still bare, and pushed hard. Raina was bigger and stronger from working in three farms around Lothering, doing tasks that usually were given to the boys. Millie’s tasks were lighter, more proper to her gender. Laundry, milking the cows, getting water, cleaning. Lauren Fairchild, the Widow, was alone, but they had cattle, hence they had money to hire workers. And, Millie wasn’t training with her own mother on top. There was no way she could have forcibly made the other turn, but the eldest Hawke turned nonetheless. Hating the last bud of hope refusing to die at the gesture.

“I think you’re really handsome, and I have fun with you. Really, I do. I would never have asked you to kiss me otherwise.”

“You forgot to mention my brilliant personality.”

Millie rolled her eyes to the beams of the roof. “But, we both know this can’t go anywhere. You have your farm to think about, and I have mine. I know your mother is introducing you to all the sons of the rich families.”

“You don’t have to worry about them.” Raina frowned, annoyed by the turn of the topic. She stepped back, scooping hay away until she found her shirt. “I can take care of a farm. I already am.”

True, Roger Grant still tried to get more money than his fodder was worth out of her, and she sometimes still didn’t realize just when to stop pushing for a discount. But it had been nine months since father died, and she was getting better at managing the farm. Admitting it, now, was maybe not the best thing. Somehow, she stalled before slipping the shirt in, keeping staring at Millie with a carefully expression of serenity she wasn’t feeling at all.

“I worry about me and about you, believe it or not. I worry about what the rest of the village would think. You lots already have troubles with rumours and-”

“Which rumours?” Raina asked, a little more serious than before. Oh, she knew they weren’t the most beloved family. But-

“Mother Alicia hasn’t forgotten your… Behaviour at your father funeral, for once. You never got back to the Chantry, and spoke badly of it. Your mother is in contact with the Evans for you, but they have doubts. People are talking.”

It was Raina’s turn to roll her eyes at the ceiling. Better that than anyone suspecting Garrett or Bethany, sure, but it still was irritating. She was wearing breeches, but her hair was still long -she had done her best to take hay strands out of her tresses- and she still wore skirts. When her mother forced her.

“People have too much free time if they have nothing better to talk about.”

“It won’t get better if we make it official, you know? I don’t want to see my family too dragged in the gutter and excluded. If I marry your brother, tho…”

“Do you like me or not?” Raina cut her short, not wanting to hear the long list of her failings in her mouth.

“It’s not that simple, and you-”

“I know my situation. All too well.” She interrupted the other again, all irony disappeared from her voice. “What I know not is where you stand about it. Yes or no, Millie?”

At least she took her time to think. Which was nicer than hearing her answering in the blink of an eye, surely. Raina stood there, back straight and highlighting how shorter the other girl was. She looked, impressing in her memory how Millie’s eyes shone under a frown, the exact shade of brown they had, warm and cozy. The way her lower lip, fuller than the upper one, and terribly kissable, trembled as she thought of a reply. The shade of brown of her skin, the way her hair curled, and the memory of how her skin had felt under her hands, how supple it had been.

Somehow, even without an ounce of magic in her, she knew what the answer was.

“It’s better to cut it off, Hawke.”

Raina marched out of the barn with half her shirt outside her breeches. At least smiling at the widow and pretending that nothing happened was easy, as she came to collect her with two wooden swords in hand. Training with the widow Fairchild was just what she needed: being hit, falling to the ground, having the woman correct her posture and praising her when she ducked a hit and countered just right. It took her mind off things. Off of the farm, off of rumours, off of what she was supposed to look and act, off of the luncheon at the Evans she’d have to wear a dress for in three days.

Moreover, it took her mind off of Millie Fairchild and how instead of telling her off and saying she was an asshole, Raina yielded to her tears and kissed them away carefully, one by one, and told her that it was fine, she wasn’t offended, they were ok. And that she would have talked to her brother.

A good hit on the jaw felt good, now, in not feeling so bad about herself.

When she got home, she had let out enough steam and frustration that she left Leandra’s scolding flow on her without touching. She didn’t care at all if Peter Evans would never have found her attractive with a big bruise on her jaw. She cared that the physical pain, as her mother paid not much care in pressing ice in a towel on it, numbed the other.

Numbed it enough that when Garrett entered the door, sweaty and in dire need of a bath as Leandra reminded him harshly, she could ask him with a smile and a cheerfulness that she didn’t feel.

“-As if ploughing a field could leave you smelling like roses and- Say what??” He turned to her, hazel eyes wide at her.

“Millie Fairchild. She has an interest in you, you should talk to her.”

Leandra became gentler, suddenly interested in the news. She sighed and nodded.

“She is a good girl, her mother is well respected. You really should talk to her, Gee.”

Garrett looked at the pair of them like they just told him the sky was yellow and there was just one moon in the sky, big eyes and mouth open. Raina widened her eyes expressively at him, knowing what he was thinking about. Of course their mother didn’t have to know about her and Millie.

“What’s happening?” Carver chimed in, entering the kitchen door as well, just before Bethany.

“Why are you covered in mud, honey?” Leandra sighed at her youngest.

“Bethany-” Carver grumbled. “Ouch!”

“-I told him not to go that way, but he didn’t listen.” Bethany chirped, quickly taking her hand away from the ear of her twin which she just pinched.

“She said the oppos-”

“What were you talking about? Why is Garrett looking like he swallowed a frog?” Bethany ignored her twin and asked.

“Raina finally did something useful and convinced Millie Fairchild to give our Garrett a chance.”

All the siblings froze, looking at Raina with various degrees of incredulity. Raina huffed and stuck her nose up in the air, in all answer.

“… What aren’t you telling me?” Leandra asked, squinting at her children.

“Nothing at all.” Raina answered, with a shit-eating smile. “Right, my darling, beloved siblings that wouldn’t want to find worms in their bed tonight?”

“Oh for the Maker’s sake, Raina, just stop being so-”

“Mom, Millie isn’t a good idea for Garrett.” Bethany said, looking worried between her eldest siblings.

“Why, honey?” Leandra asked. “Her family is not so rich, but they have cattle, and she is clever and an only child. She would make a good wife.” She paused, squinting at Raina who just smiled amiably at her mother. “… I know you lots are not telling me something. What is it?”

“Garrett would love to marry in June.” Raina answered, and the twins groaned. Carver made a good imitation of puking.

The next five minutes were a cacophony of voices speaking one over the other, none really listening to the others. Leandra stopping Carver from going further in the kitchen she cleaned but that morning, Raina insisting on details of the wedding.

“I’m not taking her leftovers!”

Garrett put a final word to the discussion, slamming both hands on the table and having all his family look at him.

“What leftov-”

“Go on and paint a sign, would you-”

“Finally Raina’s in trouble too- Ouch!”

“That’s not very kind.”

Garrett just groaned aloud, tossing both hands in the air and marching outside the kitchen.

“I hate you all!”

Garrett talked with Millie for the length of five minutes, the next Sunday. There wouldn’t have been a wedding in the next foreseeable future.

Raina was bitter, and she couldn’t know whether she felt more so because Millie wouldn’t look at her, or because Leandra was much more lenient for Garrett refusing an engagement openly -if for unknown reasons- than when Raina was refused by Peter Evans. Not that she told her how she talked circles around him until he admitted he was a fumbling idiot whose breath stank of elderberries, and that he would not have asked for her hand as he wanted to do.

“Were you seriously considering me marring Millie? The Millie you spent months pining over?” Garrett grumbled, standing beside her on the river’s bank.

Raina handed him a good pebble -flat, edges rounded- and swung her wrist to toss another on the water. It bounced on the surface four, five, six time before sinking.

“I have to get out of this place.” She just answered.

“Go, then.” Garrett answered. His pebble bounced three times, and then it suspiciously made a wider, taller  and slightly slower jump before adding other 6 bounces at a normal speed.

Raina turned to him with a scold on her face, but he just smiled.

“Fat chance, if someone does certain things in the open.”

“You’re just envious I can bounce a pebble ten times and you just six? Aaaaaaw, come on, you’ll always be my big sis even if I’m taller.”

He bent his arm and rested it on her head, leaning to the side so his weight rested on her. Raina poked him in the ribs, hard to pass under father’s old waistcoat. He was just a little taller than her.

“I’m serious.” Garrett continued. “Go, if you want. We’ll be fine.”

Raina considered it. Looking at the river flowing. It would have been nice to visit a city, she always thought. See if the voices were true, and if it was true that nobody looked at you in the face. That with just a little wit and creativity, you could get on fine on your own. She wanted to see Denerim and the market. Maybe become a guard, like widow Fairchild has been. It wouldn’t have been half bad.

She shook her head in denial.

“Just another year.”

“Raina-”

“Another one. Just to see if we can survive one full winter.”

She knew that she would have never have the guts to go. She promised their father she would have taken care of them, and she planned on doing it.

With or without Millie Fairchild.

[charlotteswebbbbb]

What's the vibe? #64

News:

Virginie Viard out at Chanel after maxing profits and that weird Marseille show which apparently was panned by the French press. Who will replace her? HFT is saying Jeremy Scott.......

Fashion Week is in! Charles Jeffrey opened up his exhibition at Somerset House with a 10th anniversary show.

Craig Green is on the right track.

Jacquemus doing his 15 year anniversary show

Spotify's ever decreasing popularity vs the comeback of Apple Music.

A few weeks ago Daniel Ek, the founder of Spotify posted this on Twitter.

And people in music and tech wrote about it - check First Floor or some other blog. TBF, I don't think Ek likes musicians that much.

Also I love Apple Music's steady stream of video interviews. Zane Lowe is actually quite a personable interviewer (much better than how he was on BBC Radio 1 definitely) and allows for this old style of interviewing that isn't done much anymore especially in the UK...

Why is this important? Apple Music feels so different from the Apple that put out this advert, crunching instruments, tech hardware to create the silly thin iPad. Apple Music and to an extension Apple Originals feels like something a company would do as a loss making activity but I think now for this big boy company, hardware is the loss making activity. These interviews, Beats Radio and other marketing efforts put Apple in a position to be seen as pro-musician. Which we may be moving to with efforts of musicians, unions and other music figures who want it.

Also buying music can be a continuous thing - buying a new iPhone is much less affordable.

What would it mean for Apple to produce a luddite's dream of an iPod that maybe only connects to the internet with a cable? That would require much effort, and rethinking or they could buy back current iPods/offer iPod repair services that encourage customers to use old tech with confidence.

Side note: CDs work in a society like Japan because there's a sizeable older population - 30% of the population is over 65 and they're less inclined to change their habits. 40 % of music revenue comes from CDs and because of The CD was obviously very popular during their 30s and 40s and they aren't going to suddenly abandon their medium. Alongside Saihan Seido established in 1953, " a government system that allows labels to set retail prices for CDs and other physical products," which keeps their prices the same.

Also I want to say.... how you consume as a teen affects how you consume as an adult.

A world without TikTok?

We're going bacckkkk to Instagram? Maybe but the positives of the app can't be understated:

"Puck News fashion reporter Lauren Sherman says, "[TikTok] has made it a lot easier for brands who have a lot less resources than big fast fashion labels to pick up on all of these micro-trends that have been officially named [by TikTok].” These independent brands that create for clicks, like the once-viral House of Sunny, would likely fall to the wayside without TikTok’s discoverability. No other apps have placed such a heavy emphasis on non-follower content and a primary explore page. According to Social Insider, even accounts with under 5,000 followers will reach peak discoverability 16 days after posting on TikTok, allowing a much wider reach than an exponentially larger audience than their Instagram's following."

Will we finally be in a world without dupes? Will aesthetics not be flicked through every month?

A world with extreme weather? something for next week.

Marc Jacob's social media team = Ditto - they know how to morph!

[laetan]

Pspsps all the asks as a treat

you pspsps at me like The Cat? Jail.

Jk thank you, I love this.

1: Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?

Closed. I usually straighten up my room before going to sleep. 

2: Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel?

Yup, where I work they have an outreach program for people that are homeless and collect them. 

3: Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out?

I usually tuck then in on one side 

4: Have you ever stolen a street sign before?

God I wish

5: Do you like to use post-it notes?

Sometimes? I feel like I end up with lil piles of them

6: Do you cut out coupons but then never use them?

I'm very pro coupon but also unfortch v forgetful so

7: Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?

Bear, can't punch a swarm of bees

8: Do you have freckles?

Yep! 

9: Do you always smile for pictures?

I'm weirdly bashful about pictures but getting better. I try. 

10: What is your biggest pet peeve?

Oh my god whistling, or repeated throat clearing, makes me wanna die. 

11: Do you ever count your steps when you walk?

No

12: Have you ever peed in the woods?

Mhm! Campint,, baby 

13: What about pooped in the woods?

See above lol

14: Do you ever dance even if theres no music playing?

There's always something stuck in my head

15: Do you chew your pens and pencils?

Not really

16: How many people have you slept with this week?

I'm choosing to read this as sleeping in the same bed as someone. But none, unfortunately. My girl’s out of the country rn

17: What size is your bed?

Twin. 

18: What is your Song of the week?

Ooh that's hard. Maybe Kalahari Down?

19: Is it okay for guys to wear pink?

Gender is a construct

20: Do you still watch cartoons?

Sometimes, not all that often

21: Whats your least favorite movie?

The one that comes to mind is Groundhog Day. I know it's samsara, I do, but this dude's first instinct when he starts repeating the day is to manipulate women, like that aint it, chief

22: Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some?

No one shall get my treasures, trick question

23: If you’re a girl, bra size? If you’re a guy, pants size?

I like that we're using pant size as an equivalent 

24: What do you dip a chicken nugget in?

Ranch

25: What is your favorite food?

Hmm gyros, love Greek food

26: What movies could you watch over and over and still love?

Mad Max: Fury Road

27: Last person you kissed/kissed you?

The Girf

28: Were you ever a boy/girl scout?

I wasn't. Did go to girl scout day camp once or twice 

29: Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine?

Guess it depends how much I'm being paid

30: When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper?

In the last month. I have elderly pen pals

31: Can you change the oil on a car?

Yep!

32: Ever gotten a speeding ticket?

Nope, nice try officer

33: Ever ran out of gas?

Also no, I'm too neurotic for that

34: Favorite kind of sandwich?

I love a reuben or a cubano

35: Best thing to eat for breakfast?

The truthful answer is whatever I can manage to but like fancy breakfast, love waffles

36: What is your usual bedtime?

Like 8-10, I'm an old man

37: Are you lazy?

That's a loaded question. I hope not

38: When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween?

Already answered!

39: What is your Chinese astrological sign?

I'm not actually sure

40: Are you horny?

( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°) 

41: Do you have any magazine subscriptions?

Nah

42: Which are better legos or lincoln logs?

Ooh they both have their benefits tbh

43: Are you stubborn?

To a fault.

44: Who is better…Leno or Letterman?

You could hold my family over a pit of lava and I would not be able to pick these men from a lineup.

45: Ever watch soap operas?

Jane the Virgin is technically a telenovella, loved that dhow

46: Are you afraid of heights?

Ish? Like self preservation not paralytically 

47: Do you sing in the car?

Not really, multitasking is tricky

48: Do you sing in the shower?

Sometimes

49: Do you dance in the car?

Often

50: Ever used a gun?

I have

51: Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?

God, probably as a child? Not for a long time

52: Do you think musicals are cheesy?

Yes and I adore them

53: Is Christmas stressful?

Sometimes, like there's a lot going on around the holidays and sometimes it makes me sad

54: Ever eat a pierogi?

God I love pierogis

55: Favorite type of fruit pie?

Ooh key lime or blueberry

56: Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

Firefighter! Specifically a hot shot

57: Do you believe in ghosts?

I think so, like I think there's a lot of stuff I don't understand and don't know enough to say no

58: Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

Weirdly often

59: Take a vitamin daily?

I try, doesn't always happen

60: Wear slippers?

Yes, my feet are So Cold Always

61: Wear a bath robe?

Nah

62: What do you wear to bed?

Usually like boxers and an undershirt or whatever shirt I was wearing 

63: First concert?

I think technically it was Bruce Springsteen

64: Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

Target

65: Nike or Adidas?

I have no opinion tbh

66: Cheetos Or Fritos?

Cheetos

67: Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?

Sunflower seeds

68: Ever hear of the group Tres Bien?

Like the jazz quartet? 

69: Ever take dance lessons?

Nope, never did

70: Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

Working in non-profits. Or whatever else she decides to do

71: Can you curl your tongue?

Yep, but only once 

72: Ever won a spelling bee?

God no, I'm a terrible speller, worse out loud

73: Have you ever cried because you were so happy?

I'm not really a crier

74: Own any record albums?

Nope 

75: Own a record player?

Nyet

76: Regularly burn incense?

Noooo don't like the smell

77: Ever been in love?

Yeah. More than once 

78: Who would you like to see in concert?

Already answered!

79: What was the last concert you saw?

Mmm not actually sure, it's been a hot second. 

80: Hot tea or cold tea?

Hot!

81: Tea or coffee?

Tea, always

82: Sugar or snickerdoodles?

Sugar! I just made some Actually 

83: Can you swim well?

Not really. I learned in highschool after having a weird phobia around it from almost drowning when I was a kid, so I can keep myself afloat but I'm not fast

84: Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?

Yes..? Can people not do that…?

85: Are you patient?

Lord no. Fatal flaw.

86: DJ or band, at a wedding?

DJ 

87: Ever won a contest?

I won a box of lucky charms that was just marshmallows

88: Ever have plastic surgery?

Reconstructive, yes

89: Which are better black or green olives?

Black, green are too salty

90: Can you knit or crochet?

No, always wanted to learn tho

91: Best room for a fireplace?

Hmm. The center of the house, especially a cabin

92: Do you want to get married?

Yes

93: If married, how long have you been married?

Not yet

94: Who was your HS crush?

Someone who had no business being

95: Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way?

Nah, I just get passive aggressive 

96: Do you have kids?

No

97: Do you want kids?

Mm not really. Thought about fostering but giving birth is horrifying not to mention I'm not ethically comfortable with having kids

98: Whats your favorite color?

Red or blue

99: Do you miss anyone right now?

Terribly.

[wiry-psychiatrist]

5/28/23

(CW vent as always)

So uhhhh, he/they pronouns, am I right? I think it’s time to reintroduce myself. Hello to the zero people that follow me, my name is Maxwell (Max) (yes, I stole my cat’s name, don’t worry about it,) I’m 20 years old from somewhere on the planet and I’m a trans man? I'm still workshopping the last part there but what do we think? 

Now here’s my problem: I’ve moved back in with my parents, an hour away from all my friends or anyone that would possibly genuinely support me, and my bedroom walls are pastel pink. I miss college, solely for the fact that I could mostly act and dress how I wanted, and I didn’t have to tell anyone anything I didn’t want to. I saw my parents maybe once a month, and I could put on a charade for that long. I enjoyed my job, I was actually friends with my coworkers, and some of them even used the right pronouns for me (I didn’t push it on purpose bc I’m not ready to defend my identity to bigoted customers yet.) I’m not gonna say I'm miserable at my first adult job, but it is definitely a stark reminder that the majority of the world is not as accepting as working at a coffee shop, and there's a very likely chance I won’t be respected in my identity at my workplace. I have absolutely nothing in common with any of my coworkers anymore, and now I see my friends as much as I used to see my parents.

I’m afraid I’ll never be able to live the life I want to live, I’ll never be able to be myself around my coworkers or leave the clutches of my parents (I don’t want to come out to them at all, I hate telling them anything but I’m the only child so I can’t just run away and never see them again, although that would be great.)

Pride month is rolling around again, and the irony is definitely not lost on me. Combined with all of the transphobic violence ramping up again, the last thing I feel right now is proud. I’ve never been to pride, but even though this is the first year I could probably get away with going, I’m not going to bother because I’m too scared. I wish I wasn't like this. I wish people saw me as a man in any capacity, I wish I could be around new people who only know me as how I want to be known, not as who I was forced to be. I wish I would be taken seriously if I did try any attempt to be myself. I feel like I’m playing a character 24/7 and it’s exhausting. I don’t have anywhere I can be myself anymore now that I‘m back with my parents. I need to move out, but my parents don’t see why I would want to spend the money on my own place, with furniture and everything, when I’m probably gonna travel for work (just to get away from them.) The only excuse I would have is to shorten my commute to my current job, but the city I work in is even more republican and bigoted than the one my parents’ house is in.

I can feel myself slipping back into depression, I didn’t realize how much better I felt when I was at school. It’s only amplified now that I know what some semblance of freedom feels like, now that it’s stripped away. I didn’t realize how much of a support system I had built up, of friends and a therapist nearby, until it’s gone.

This was supposed to be a happy post about me finally beginning to accept my identity in my own head, but the weight of the world stops for no one I guess. I’m gonna go research apartments now.