#but i spent the last year and a half learning something completely new that i knew nothing about at all.

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

sorry for diary posting so much on main but this is the last one today prommy

[teastyun]

༻ pound town

arcane sevika x female reader (nsfw)

a/n: i'm going to war (exam phase is about to start), therefore i must make haste (my hiatus starts again). also, i got a new job so i'm not sure when my hiatus will end :(

pt. 1 ; masterlist

grabbing the broom from the back of your mechanics shop, you start you usual closing routine as the streets of Zaun more active as the day ends. growing up in Zaun, you appreciate the livelihood of the people, but grew wary of the criminality rising abruptly at the end of each day. enforcers started to patrol the quiet streets of Zaun and hang up missing posters of Jinx, who you've been visited by for several occasions over the last few months for tech equipment she required. you grew fond of the girl and would occasionally even slip a few extra pieces, and she would thank you proudly by telling you about her latest new technological improvements.

one time, she told you about a prosthesis as her newest invention. Sevika immediately came to your mind and the way she held your cheek the last and first time you saw her. or the way her bionic arm held your hips so strongly as you rode her strap. shit, you really are down bad for this woman who doesn't even know your name.

as several months gone by since then, you managed to gather your savings and invest it into your shop for new techs and products to sell. you were finally able to call your shop your full time job and scrap your shifts at the brothel completely. Sevika didn't only save your shop, but she saved you from drowning in exhaustion as the only thing you ever did was work day and night.

you hoped to see her again, but your hope was slowly scarped as each month passed by.

after sweeping the last corner of your shop, you only had to rearrange your products before you could finally leave to go home. as you tidied the screws collection, the door to your shop opened audibly by your crystals dangling from the person entering.

"we're closed-" you start, but stop as you see the person at the entrance.

there she was, standing in her usual cloak and a hood that hid her face, but you recognised her nonetheless. she took her hood off with a smile as she looked at you. "good to see you again."

suddenly, you felt naked again. although she knew your identity (prolly even the whole time), the mask would hide your facial expressions and reactions. now, you are standing there with a shocked impression written on your face, unsure of how to react to the person that is the reason for your shop to still be alive.

"i see you created something out of this shop since the last time I've seen you," she speaks with a soft smile on her lips as she takes a look around in your shop. "thank you. you were actually a huge help last time we've seen each other," you respond, your hands linked together behind your back as you turn to look around your shop.

honestly, your shop is quite shady from outside with its half-broken broken neon sign spelling the name mechs n' treasures. but once you enter, you quickly realise that it's a one man's business by it's intricate appearance. it has so much personality now that you have as much time as you'd like to spent in it, decorating it with your favourite things you've collected over the years that weren't too precious to be displayed in your small flat above your shop. a few colourful crystals dangle around your entrance and the door to your flat, reflecting the neon lights from the streets of Zaun onto the mechanic pieces you sell. tidiness is your top priority, since it's hard to keep such an old shop neat and clean. you love your old and shady, but precious personal shop and wouldn't wish it to be any different. business seemed to be booming recently, too. you had no idea why, but Zaun is a quick and fast learning city with its advantages and disadvantages, resulting in people visiting your shop to buy the pieces they require for their newest project.

now, Sevika is standing in the centre of your shop, taking one of the mechanical pieces into her hands and looking at it in detail.

"can i help you with something?" you ask, looking at her with curiosity. after she puts the mechanic piece back into its tray, she says "I was hoping you could me out with this."

she reveals her bionic arm, where you see the its shimmer capsules completely shattered. surprised, you walk towards her and take her bionic arm into her hand to have a closer look. you inhale her smoky scent and suddenly were confronted with a vivid memory of the first night you guys met at the brothel, as you sat in her lap writhing under her touch. focus. you twisted a few pieces to inspect the reachability of the broken capsules. "I assume you won't be able to take it off?" you ask her, your eyes still fixed on an odd piece you've found.

she shakes her head, "it would be a hazard trying to put it on afterwards. do you think you'll still manage to repair, though?"

after twisting the last few pieces for inspection, you leave her arm. "shouldn't be no issue," you take a look at your wristwatch and notice how late it already is. a few extra minutes won't hurt, you decide.

you nod towards the counter, "take a seat, i'll be right with you."

entering the back of your shop and take a big breath. fuck, this intimidating woman still effects you after several months. at this point, you were sure you even forgot about her.

you grab your toolbox and head to Sevika, who is waiting for you behind your counter on a chair. her cloak is thrown over your register's desk, revealing a similar outfit you saw at the brothel. only now you realise how muscular this woman actually is. her arm is almost fully exposed by her sleeveless top and a choker around her neck makes you shake off your dirty thoughts.

you place the toolbox on the counter before you take a seat next to it. Sevika watches every move of yours, making you even more nervous than you already are.

grabbing your first tool, you lay her arm in you lap and start unscrewing the plates that cover the isolation of the shimmer capsules. her arm felt heavy, but oddly warm in your lap for the fact that it's broken. you remember how the same arm pinned you down on her strap a few months ago.

your brain is almost about to malfunction if Sevika wouldn't have interrupted your thoughts, "so, how is your shop going?" she asks as she leans the side of her upper body on the counter. when you look down at her, she's only mere centimetres away from your face. her grey eyes digging into yours. your pussy clenches as your breathing stops at the sight of her. you quickly look away and focus on her arm again. "it's going well," you start and grab for another tool to remove the shattered pipes. "sometimes it's exhausting to handle a shop alone, but you get used to it, you know."

her eyes follow your movements on her arm while she hums as an indication for you to continue. "once, a dude i recognised from the brothel came to pick up a few things and i couldn't help but wonder what his day job is. he was a sex worker as well, so he probably even recognised me," you tell her. it's unusual for you to share thoughts and memories of your old job. you weren't ashamed of it, but you much happier spending your time in your own shop and not thinking back to your old routine.

she shifts in her seat to look up at you, "i'm glad you were able to escape that shit hole, beautiful," she says quietly, careful of the words she chooses, "do you still remember that night?"

your movements halt immediately at her questions and you felt her eyes laying heavily on you, watching every single movement. the way you took a deep breath, trying not to appear nervous around her. the mere thought of that night made you feel butterflies in your stomach and wetness in your core.

"i do," you confess. without meeting her eyes, you continue your maintenance on her bionic arm in your lap, trying to suppress the urge of jumping into her lap and kissing her senseless. "do you?" you ask in almost a whisper, unsure if you even wanted to know the answer.

when she didn't, your eyes travelled to hers in question. she seemed to be in deep thoughts as well before she asked "how couldn't i?"

her eyes finally meet yours and you recognise such sincerity and trust in them, you couldn't help the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips.

"you were the only thing on my mind in this cruel world," she continues, making you feel several things at once. "and i don't even know your name."

you chuckled and referred your eyes back to your almost finished work, concentrating on exchanging the pipes.

"so, you're not even going to tell me?" she asks amused.

"what, my name?" you act oblivious, knowing exactly what she wanted. now it was her turn to chuckle at your teasing. "you can be a pain in the ass, you know that?"

you shake your head in disbelief with a smile on your lips as you screw on the last iron plate on her arm.

"move it," you command and she obliges. she moves her joints, making the shimmer that was left in her tank fuel her new pipe, while moving it a few more times in several directions. you've never seen machinery working with shimmer so closely. you wonder how the metal felt like against your skin.

ripping you out of your trance, she stands up. right in front you, almost between your legs, which you desperately wanted to close at the sight as you felt your pussy clench.

"thank you," she looks at you, her eyes wandering from your neck down to the rest of your body. it's like she can't help herself, checking you out as you sit on her cloak next to your work instruments.

"you even look beautiful in your casual attire," she whispers as her eyes meet yours again.

"so," you wrap your index finger through her choker, "how about taking it off and see what's hidden underneath?" you cock your head before you pull her closer. your legs are opened by her thighs between them as she looks down at you, clearly surprised by your boldness. "i don't fuck nameless girls," she says in an equal tone to her low chuckle.

you take a quick look at her lips, wondering what they would feel like on yours. "didn't seem so last time we've seen each other."

your finger is still wrapped around her chocker as you grin. she didn't answer. she knows you're messing with her.

she places her arms on each of your sides, the sounds of her bionic arm moving leaving a shudder throughout your body. she's dangerously close.

"if i remember correctly, last time you've fucked yourself, princess."

shocked by her comment, your grin fades as you suddenly remember how you rode her in that brothel, eagerly chasing your orgasm as she guided you through it.

you let go of her choker and rest your hand at the back of her neck instead, caressing the soft strands of brunette hair as you try to maintain yourself.

"y/n," you whisper. Sevika's eyes widen at first, but a slight grin sets on her lips at the sound of your name.

"beautiful name, princess," she whispers back and you feel her breath on your lips with each sound she speaks.

you close your eyes as you feel her full lips grazing yours. "y/n," she whispers repeatedly. her lips finally touch yours, first cautiously but confident after a few seconds of lingering. you copy her motions and gasp when her tongue grazes your lower lip.

pressing her more firmly against yourself, you part your lips for her tongue to enter. she faintly tastes like cigarettes, but more of a harsh liquor you can't really pinpoint. your arms cling desperately around her neck, feeling her torso pressed around yours in your heated kiss. you lock her against your core with your legs around her hips, moaning as she leaves your lips to leave kisses on your neck. "you have no idea how often i thought of kissing you," she whispers before she trails down kisses to your exposed shoulder and collarbone, licking the line of it and pressing soft bites against your sweet spots.

instead of responding, you pull her up again and lock your lips together. you press your lower body against her in search of the friction you desperately seek, but with no success. her lips form into a smirk against your lips as she realises what you're seeking.

frustrated, you separate yourself from her and motion for her to step aside, so you could jump of the counter. "i have a bed upstairs," you tell her. Sevika stands there confused, but god does she look hot. her lips are glazed from your spit and her hair looks slightly tousled from your hand that clung to it.

she doesn't let you move, though. instead, her hands are pressed firmly on your side as she still stand between your legs. "i thought that might be more comfortable..." you say, unsure of the current situation. she shifts in her stance to let you stand up.

"fuck, yes. i mean, yes, let's go upstairs," she chuckles after stumbling over her own words and her bionic arm moves to gesture you to lead the way. you laugh at her sudden awkwardness but go ahead to lock up your shop.

walking up the stairs, you fumble for your home's keys. Sevika followed you closely behind, touching your waist and kissing your neck as you try to unlock the door, a sigh escapes your lips as you try to unlock your door.

as the door closes behind you, she pins you against it. her hand holds your wrist against the door as she kisses you feverishly. her bionic arm slips beneath your ass to lift you up, so you could wrap your legs around her hips. you press your breasts against her, trying to seek for any further touches. "the bed, Sev," you say between kisses, too occupied to actually resist her touch.

she ignores your words and losses her grip on your wrists instead to wander to the buttons of your shirt, never breaking the kiss. "patience, beautiful," she whispers as her lips leave yours to press a kiss on your cheek. "we have all night, right?"

your arms find their way back around her neck, playing with her loose hair. "please," you respond, your eyes making contact with hers. you peck her lips before you say, "i want to touch you, too."

her head falls onto your shoulder as she groans, "you make me loose my composure so easily," before looking back into your eyes with need and desperation "do you realise that?"

you grin at her confession and kiss her hot and wet, moaning into the kiss as she continues to unbutton your shirt until your bra is exposed to her hand. she grazes the outlines with her fingertips, making a shudder run through your body as you gasp. you press your chest into her touch and she gladly responds with cupping your breast while biting your lower lip.

her index finger grazes your puffy nipple through your bra and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.

she pecks you one last time with a smile, before looking around your small flat, seemingly inspecting your small setup where your bedroom and living room are combined to your cozy grove.

her hand moves to your back, stabilising you in her arms before she finally heads to your bed to lay you down on it, watching you as you lay there with your undone shirt and the few strands that escaped your hairstyle completely wordless.

similar to her, you exhale at the sight in front of you. Sevika is still fully clothed, so you pull her down by her collar to kiss her hard, wrapping your legs around her waist to pull her body on top of you. "take this off," she whispers against your lips, her bionic hand gripping your shirt as her hand sneaks behind your neck to tilt your head for her to suck.

she kisses and bites your sweet spot, disrupting your motion of pulling your shirt off and making your eyes roll back in pleasure. you moan her name in frustration before she finally let's go.

"this too," she tells you as she eyes every little detail on your torso. when you take your bra off, her bionic hand cups your breast. the sharp and cold details of her metallic hand exposed on one of your most sensitive parts of your body leave you breathing hard, moaning as her pointy fingers pinch and twist your nipple. "you have no idea how often i thought of touching them since that night," her eyes are not leaving your chest as she confesses.

"you could've touched them that night," you respond, your hand finding the back of her head as you play with her small ponytail. after hearing your words she looks at you, almost with a shocked expression on her face. "there's no way i would have touched you without your consent," she tells you. surprised by this sudden turn, you move up to rest your weight on your elbows, looking at her in disbelief. "but you payed for that night with me," you state, still confused by what she just said.

she's just as surprised as you, cupping your cheek softly as she spoke, "y/n, i would never do anything to you without your consent. do you know that?" she asks you, her eyes never leaving yours as she spoke. you've never experienced any sex partner expressing their respect to you verbally. and fuck, this is probably the moment you realise you have feelings for this woman in front of you. you nod in response, still overwhelmed from your thoughts and feelings. she smiles at you as she says, "good girl."

your soaking pussy almost purred at that nickname. kissing her quick but softly, you grind your clothed hips against hers as you kiss a trail down her neck to her exposed collarbone.

she exhales heavily at your motions before saying, "tell me what you want, beautiful."

"i want you to fuck me," you respond after hesitating, still nibbling at her collarbone as a soft moan escapes her.

"with this," you continue as you grind stronger onto her clothed cunt than before.

her bionic arm holds herself on the bed as her fingers trace your curves. "with my fingers?" she teases as she opens your trousers with her other hand slowly.

your lips move up to her ear, licking and biting her soft skin. "no," you whisper, "with this."

you press the seam of her jeans with your fingers against her clit, making her grip your hips hard from your sudden touch. "fuck," she mutters in response, clearly trying to compose herself before she continues to fully undress you.

"under one condition," she starts as she takes in your naked body with hungry eyes, "i'll have a taste before i fuck you," she unbuttons her shirt, revealing a dark bandeau bra beneath. she's in a hurry, so she won't bother to take off her unbuttoned shirt, but moves on by removing her jeans as well as underwear in one go.

you try to take a peek at her body, but she immediately kneels between your legs to kiss the soft skin of your thighs, dragging her motions slowly to your soaking pussy as her hands hold you firm beneath her touch. feeling her breath on your clit, you whine from sensitivity, gripping the sheets beneath you as she finally tastes you for the first time.

both of you moan from the touch, your hips stutter beneath her strong hands. she eats you out like a starving woman, humming at the sounds you're making. your clit is circled by her tongue as she softly bites and sucks before your legs start shaking from the pleasure that builds up in your lower belly.

she moves her arm from your thigh to press softly against it, realising how close you are. "come on my tongue," she tells you, intensifying her motions as you come hard. the way you moan her name sounds similar to a scream, your thighs pressing against her head as you throw your head back in pleasure.

she gently guides you through it by licking in decreasing motions, careful of your sensitivity. as your calming down, she kisses your clit one last time before she straightens herself to watch you after your first high.

her lips and chin are glistening from her pussy and strands that were originally framing her face now hang loosely. "you did so well, beautiful," she whispers, climbing on top of you to press kisses into your face. "fuck, you really sent me to another dimension," you confess, laughing a litte at the absurdity. she chuckles at your words, grinning as she examines your face.

"are you still down for another round?" she asks carefully, giving you the space you might need, but you nod as you smile at her. she kisses you before she straightens again to manhandle your legs, placing one on her shoulder as she moves her own over your other to align with your pussy, not starting just yet. she caresses the long on her shoulder as she presses kisses along with it.

she looks absolutely breathtaking while doing it. you feel her pussy kissing yours, and fuck, she's driving you crazy. the unbuttoned shirt exposes the abs you eyed earlier through the tightness of her shirt. her v-line is deeply defined, even more when she starts to slowly grind against you. her pointy bionic fingers suddenly press into your thigh as she gasps from the pleasure she suddenly receives. her grey eyes watch you heavily, making sure you're alright with her pace as she slowly picks it up.

"you feel so good," you whimper as you meet her motions by copying hers, crying from the sensitivity from your earlier orgasm. "fuck- i'm close again."

she grins at your confession, pushing herself harder on your clit as you cry out from the friction. she's mostly quiet, but a gasp escapes her lips anytime you improve your speed.

"come with me, y/n" she leans down, kissing you with so much passion as her eyebrows furrow in pleasure. you moan into the kiss, your breasts moving with each thrust as your nipples graze against the cotton of her bandeau. you felt your orgasm creeping, but you weren't ready for the intensity it comes with. you cry out against her lips, holding her against you as you feel her groaning from her own orgasm. both your hips stutter in your motions before you stop to look at her.

her head rests in the nape of your neck and the only thing you feel is her hot breath against your skin. as you untangle your legs, you kiss on the side of her head. "are you alright?" you ask after several seconds of silence.

she vaguely nods, still maintaining her breath before she answers "you have no idea what you're doing to me."

you smile as you caress her hair through your fingers. "i'd love to figure it out in the future," you continue, making space between your faces so you could look at her as you speak. "this idea you've just mentioned," you clarify as she looks at you speechless.

she kisses you passionately after a few seconds, smiling as she realises what you were suggesting.

"let me take you to dinner after your shift tomorrow?" she asks as her thumb trails your cheekbone. you nod, kissing her on the cheeks before you answer "gladly."

you both fall asleep, and sooner or later date nights with Sevika become your favourite traditions as you two engage in a passionate, but intimate relationship with each other.

tags: @sevsbaby @womenathleteshaveme @macaroni676

masterlist

[silverhairsimp]

The dad osamu brain rot has been unbelievably real.

AN: complete and utter fluff. Osamu and reader have a daughter. Minimal dialogue.

Also: how is this my first Osamu fic/drabble??? I love this man. thinking of doing an entire dad series... lemme know if you're interested. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Find: dad!Atsumu here

Banner from @cafekitsune

Your daughter is only four and osamu is convinced that these last four years have been some of the best of his life. Learning how to be a dad, watching you become a mom, coming up with ways to parent together, figuring out his daughter’s interests… there was such a sense of sentimental pride when his daughter begged to go to work with him on the weekends.

Which is where your husband can be found without fail. He’s got your daughter on the counter, lending a hand while she shapes her onigiri. She’s doing her best, which is why every time the two of them do this, Osamu asks his little girl “you sure you don’t wanna be like yer mama? Or find yer own thing you love?”

She might have his dark eye brows and those beautiful grey-blue eyes, but she looks like you, and it makes him love her even more. She just shakes her head and looks up at him with big eyes and a smile while she eats the sticky rice off her fingers. “I wanna be just like daddy!”

Her cheeks also have grains of rice sticking to them and osamu can’t help the way he wraps his arms around his little girl. Clinging to these moments for dear life because he knows how fast she’ll grow up. How distant these memories will seem one day...

She’ll probably change her mind about wanting to be just like him. Who knows, maybe she’ll start to look up to her uncle Atsumu and wanna be just like him. Or she really find her own interests and forget all about the times they spent in this kitchen together. He hopes that never happens and this will always be something the two can bond over, even when he starts to age and she goes off to start her own family. He knows that’s years and years away, but he can’t help the way his mind drifts to the future, then back to the past.

He thought he was getting his hopes up, but when you surprised him with that going home outfit: a dusty pink onesie decorated with tiny onigiri on it. He should’ve known then, that his baby would be a daddy’s girl through and through.

And it’s no surprise that when she could start talking and asking for things, that the first item she asked for was an apron to match her daddy. You and Atsumu had worked together to surprise them both with new ones, since your husband’s old one was more than a little worn out.

At just two and a half years old, your baby girl was jumping up and down with excitement, waving the apron in the air and running straight to her daddy so he could put it on for her. Osamu remembers looking at her with the softest smile and tears brimming his lash line while he held her close.

Her little voice pulls him out of thought once more, “daddy? Did I do good?” He puts a hand on her shoulder and nods his head, “you did great, sweetheart. Wanna try to wrap it now that you’ve got the shape?” She’s already reaching for the nori with a frustrated little pout when more than one piece sticks to her fingers. “Here,” he brings a wash cloth over, with a little dish of water, “let’s wipe your hands. It’ll make it easier.”

She follows his every instruction, folding the nori where Osamu pre-creased it. “Should we make mommy some for dinner? We can bring them home and surprise her?” The light in her eyes is one he remembers fondly. He and his brother used to get that same shimmer in their eyes when they’d land a perfect set in a volleyball match. And he’s caught himself even more often now that he has you, his beautiful wife, and his perfect daughter.

There’s so much in his life that he’s thankful for and it’s all started with you.

[faefictions]

Snow in Indiana

Eddie Munson x Reader

5.7k words

Eddie has spent the past decade thinking about the pen pal he lost touch with, but fate has a funny way of bringing people back together when they need it most

Warnings: family death (unedited bc it is 3am and I have been working on this for hours)

“Dear Eddie, 

Does it Snow in Indiana?” 

He had read the beginning of the note hundreds of times by now. He had memorized how each individual letter had been written and slightly smudged. He knew the entire contents of the letter by heart, but that never stopped him from coming back to it from time to time. 

“My grandma hasn’t told me much about Hawkins, just that it’s just like home. Except it’s on the other side of the country. Grandma likes the snow, so I hope you say yes.” 

Something about the innocent nature of your writing calmed him down when things got rough. He had received the note in the middle of August at the beginning of 6th grade. Your grandmother had just moved across the country, and she just so happened to be the Librarian at Eddie’s new middle school. She had told both of you that the other could use a friend, even if you were thousands of miles apart. She also insisted that being pen pals would improve both of your lackluster reading and writing skills. She meant well. 

“Can I tell you the truth? I didn’t want to write you a letter when grandma called and told me I should. My teachers say I’m not good at writing anyway. But Grandma also said maybe you and I could be friends. And I think I would like that.” 

Some of your words had been crossed out with pen, either from misspellings or second thoughts on phrasing. Eddie had stared at the paper for so long that he even knew what was underneath those scribbles. 

When the snow started coming down each winter, it was hard for him to not want to keep the letter on him at all times. The opening line of your first letter to him always floated into his head with the first snowflakes. 

He had written you back to assure you that it does snow in Indiana, that he too had troubles with pleasing his teachers with his school work, and of course, that he too would like to be friends. 

That was over 10 years ago now. He had never met you, never heard your voice, never learned what you looked like (besides the poorly drawn picture you had included for him one time) but you had been a part of him for his middle school years. 

The letters started slowing down in the 8th grade. You had told him you were nervous for high school, that you’d heard that kids were meaner there. The last letter he had sent you was in the summer before both of your freshman years. He hated that he couldn’t remember what he had said, what his last words to you were. All he knew was that he wished you luck for your first day. 

Then the letters stopped completely. After months of checking mailboxes impatiently, he got the hint and gave up. 

At the age of 24, he wishes he sent another letter. He wishes he got some closure on why you stopped writing. He had always wondered if it had been something he had said, or maybe you had just found new friends in high school and decided you didn’t need him anymore. 

He was embarrassed to admit that it was his first heartbreak. So he refused to admit it even happened to anyone he knew now. 

He tucked the old letter in his pocket as another patron entered the diner. He had picked up a second job as the night cook in hopes of saving up enough to to move out of the trailer with Wayne. It had been months of helping Wayne with bills now, and he was just barely starting to see the hard work pay off in his savings account. 

He peeked out the pass through window to get a glimpse of the first customer they’d had in the last hour and a half. The snow had been coming down hard, and it was preventing the already few people who would be coming in to the diner at this hour from showing up. He wasn’t surprised to see the young woman, somewhere around his age, follow the waitress quickly to the booth in the corner and sit down. He was, however, surprised to see no new car in the small lot outside. He hadn’t seen headlights arrive or depart to drop her off. The snow that has accumulated on her hair, even thought it has been covered with a hood, was making him think she had walked a distance to get here. If the counter hadn’t been blocking his view, he would have seen the bottom of her pants completely soaked through from the snow piled outside to confirm his suspicion. 

“Can you start on a stack of pancakes, Ed?”

He nodded at the waitress, Judy, who wasn’t usually one to whisper like she was now. She rushed off to the phone in the back office, which did nothing but pique the interest in Eddie’s under stimulated brain. 

Curiosity got the best of him, so he made his way out of the kitchen quickly, grabbed a mug from the counter and the full coffee pot, and made his way over the girl in the corner. 

You had been staring out the window, and Eddie recognized the look as he approached. You were doing your best to hold yourself together. He was used to this kind of customer at this time of night. People who really needed the company, who had nowhere else to go, often found their way here after midnight. But there was something different about you, and it wasn’t just that he had never seen you around town. No matter how hurt he could tell you were inside, you did your best to keep up a facade when you saw him approaching. 

“Coffee?” he offered, less poised than he had intended.

“Please,” you smiled up at him as he set down the mug and poured. He allowed himself to take you in, and that’s when he saw the snow still caked on to your sneakers, and the damp cloth stretching from the hem above your ankle nearly up to your knees. There was snow yet to melt from head to toe, and you were trying your best not to shake from the cold. 

“You walk here?” He tried to make light conversation as he chuckled, but you weren’t as chipper. 

“My car broke down about a mile up the road. Walking was my only option,” You tried to keep the smile on your face, but Eddie saw the look, almost like a shunned child. As if you were embarrassed by what you had done, preparing for the lecture or consequence coming your way. 

Before he could say anything, Judy returned from the back office. 

“Tow truck won’t be running ’til morning, darlin’. But I left a message telling them you’d call first thing,” Judy gave you a halfhearted smile, before turning to Eddie, “Where’s that stack I told you to start on?” 

“Right, sorry,” he quickly excused himself back to the kitchen, but did his best to listen for the conversation you were having on the other side of the room. 

“Where are you staying tonight? I can try to get you a ride there.” 

“My grandma’s house, well it used to be I guess. I think it’s just a few more miles into town, I’m not a hundred percent sure though, I’ve never been out here.” 

“Used to be your grandma’s house?”

“Yeah, she, uhm… passed away not long ago. Hard to own something six feet under,” you tried to joke, but failed to make either of you laugh, “Funeral service is next week, I came early to pack up her things. Guess I chose the wrong day to drive in though.” 

“I’d say. Well let me see what I can do, do you have the address?” 

“Yeah, it’s right…” you trailed off as you checked your pocket, slowly coming to realize that you had left the torn piece of paper with the address written on it on your passenger seat, right on top of the map you were struggling to follow in the heavy snow. “Guess I left it in the car.” 

Just as the realization was threatening to break you, Eddie came and set a fresh stack of 3 pancakes in front of you. 

“You eat up, it’s on the house. And let me know if you remember any of that address,” Judy smiled at you and walked into the back before you could refuse the free pancakes.

Eddie watched you for the next hour through the pass through window. No other customers came in, so he didn’t exactly have anything better to do. It was nearing 4 am, the end of Eddie’s shift. He had cleaned his station in the kitchen faster than he ever had and made his way out to your table to check on your before he left. 

“Any luck with that address?”

“Don’t think I’d remember it with a gun to my head. I might as well walk back and grab it.” 

“Not a chance. My shift is over in a few minutes. Why don’t I drive you back to your car, you can grab it, and I can get you there.”

“I couldn’t possibly-“

“No need to be polite. You’ve had a rough enough night, let’s just get you home.”

You didn’t correct his phrasing. This was the furthest you had ever been from home, and you were sure as hell feeling that in this strange diner with barely a concept of where you were. The snow falling outside only exacerbated your feeling of being out of place. 

Eddie rushed to the back to grab his belongings and wish Judy a good night, letting her know he was going to get you out of there, before he made his way back out to you. You had brought the hood of your sweatshirt back up, and were staring out at the snow silently. He approached cautiously and gently spoke, “Let’s get out of here,” before guiding you through the door. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way. Sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier.” 

You paused at his name, but he was too busy trying to find his van through the wall of snow to notice. 

“I’m y/n, thanks again for helping. You and Judy are both angels.” 

He smiled at your name for a moment, but kicked the idea from his mind. 

Both of you thought of the letters you had sent all those years ago, unaware that the person climbing into the same car as you was in fact the person you were reminiscing on. 

Eddie shook the snow out of his hair like a wet dog before starting the van. 

“Left out of the lot?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled. 

“You know, I’ve helped fix up a few cars in my day. I could take a look under the hood for you when we get there if you’d like.”

“You’re already helping enough, thank you though.”

“I really don’t mind. Can’t hurt just to take a look.” 

The glance and smile he shot you made your stomach do flips. In the low light of the passing, sparse streetlights, he looked incredibly handsome. Your mind wandered back to what you thought your Eddie looked like back in middle school. You had sent him a drawing of yourself, mostly as a joke since your drawing skills as a 12 year old weren’t amazing, but you were also trying to send him the message that you desperately wanted to know him better. Of course, when your grandmother had insisted you become pen pals with a strange boy, you weren’t too happy about the idea, but as time went on, the sound of a friend sounded too nice. You hadn’t had many of them in elementary school, and it concerned your family. But as your friendship with Eddie grew with each letter, you found yourself hoping for something, anything, more. Now, as an adult, you blame your adolescent brain for the silly crush. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him from time to time, still wondering what he might be doing in that moment, or if he is happy. But most of all, you wondered if he missed you as much as you missed him. 

“You doing alright over there?” he asked you over the quiet metal playing over the speakers. He was playing it at about 1% of the volume he usually listened at, in an attempt to not scare you off just yet. 

“Yeah, just a long night,” you smiled back at him. He nearly assured you that you could be real with him, that he could tell that something more was bothering you, but he worried that would be coming on too strong. And before he could find a way to say it without sounding creepy, you pointed out your car on the side of the road with a sigh. 

It had only been a couple hours since you had left it, but it was nearly buried in the snow. 

“That’s a little more difficult to check out,” He chuckled as he pulled to the side of the road, lighting up your car with his headlights. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just go grab the address and we can get going,” you tried not to sigh as you opened the passenger door. 

“Wait a second,” Eddie reached for your hand before you could make it out of the car, “I’m fine with taking a look, and I can grab the address too. No need for you to get cold again.” 

“I already walked a mile in the snow earlier, I don't think a minute out there will kill me.”

“All the more reason for you to stay in here if you ask me.”

“Fine, but skip looking under the hood. I can call the tow truck when I wake up, it should be fine until then. Even if you could fix it with nothing, I don’t think I should be driving any more today.”

“Long trip?”

“Since 8 am. I really just want to get to sleep.”

“Deal,” he smiled again before stretching his hand out to you, “Keys?”

You reluctantly let him have the keys to go grab the paper, but not before trying to assure him you were capable of grabbing it yourself. You watched him as he rushed as fast as he could through the near foot of snow, grabbed the address, and rushed back to the van. 

“You didn’t lock it,” you stated, nervous to not to sound nagging. 

“I know, do you have a bag or something I can grab for you?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, where is it?”

“It’s in the back seat on the passenger side. It’s a small black suitcase.”

“You got it, here, take this,” he handed you the torn paper with your grandmother’s previous address written on it in a handwriting that would have been familiar to him, had he glanced down at it. 

He ran back to grab your suitcase, and made sure to double check that the doors had locked after he shut them before he rushed back to the van. He threw your suitcase in the backseat before jumping back into the drivers seat. 

“I don’t know how you lasted a mile in that, I’m already freezing,” he complained, but his smile still refused to leave his face. 

“I’m sorry,” you tried yet again to apologize. 

“Don’t be,” he paused to look you in the eye to assure you that he wasn’t upset in the slightest, “Now let’s see that address. Hopefully I actually know where it is.”

You handed him the paper, and even in the low light, you couldn’t miss the way his face fell, even for a millisecond. He hadn’t seemed to stop smiling all night, but the second he saw the paper, it faltered for just a moment. 

“Everything ok?” 

He looked up at you, and you could tell he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. 

“Yeah, uhm, this is on the other side of town though. It’s a bit of a drive, is that ok?”

“I’d rather drive a little further than stay in my car tonight. So yeah, it’s fine,” you giggled, relieved that he didn’t seem angry or annoyed with you like you thought. 

But he had seen the handwriting. He would know it anywhere, yet he still wouldn’t let himself get caught up in the coincidences. You were just a girl with similar handwriting, and the same name. You weren’t his y/n. He could never be so lucky. 

“So, what brings you to town?” he asked after a moment of driving. 

“It isn’t the happiest story, and I don’t want to be a bummer.” 

“I’m nosey, and that does nothing to curb my interest,” he joked. He just needed to prod, he needed to know if he was being crazy. 

“My grandma passed… about a week ago now. Her funeral is next week, but someone needed to clean up her house for the service, and no one else wanted to make the drive out.” 

“Do you have any other family in the area to help out?”

“No, she only had 2 sons. My dad and my uncle, and they’re both back west. She moved here, like, 12 years ago now I think. Maybe 13.” 

Just another coincidence. He’s not this lucky. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes. You hadn’t heard that yet. Just stressed adults complaining about how traveling in the winter was too much of a hassle. Hearing those words, from a near stranger no less, was enough to make you tear up. And Eddie could hear that in your voice when you thanked him, but he chose not to comment on it. 

“So,” you began after a moment of awkward silence, “How long have you lived in Hawkins?”

“My whole life.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Uh… It has its moments,” he tried his best to hide his discontent with the town. If it weren’t for his uncle, his band, and his small group of friends, he would have ran for the hills by now. He was too attached to them to run… and also lacking the funds to do so. 

“That good huh?” you laughed. 

“Hate to sound like an ass, but there are definitely plenty of cons that outweigh the pros for me half the time. But that’s not everyone’s experience.”

“Grandma seemed to like it, but she also liked it back home, and it’s no cake walk back there.” 

You almost spat the end of your sentence, and although it wasn’t spoken explicitly, Eddie understood. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep bringing the conversation down. It’s just been a really long week.”

“I believe it,” He paused, “So how long are you going to be staying in town then?”

“I have no idea. Rumor is Grandma left me the house. And even if she did…. I’m sorry, I’ve been awake for almost 24 hours now, and driving for over 15 of them. I know you really don’t need to hear any of this.” 

You started to make your body as small as possible, hyper aware of how loudly you had been speaking, and how riled up you were getting. Your father would have hated to see it. But not Eddie. 

“No, keep going. Like I said, I’m nosey, and it sounds like you could use someone to talk to about this.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agreed nonchalantly, unaware how much it meant to you. 

“My grandma and I were really close before she moved. She didn’t get along with either of her sons, but she was the world to me as a kid. And my dad put up no effort to even reach out to her in the past decade, but he expects all of her stuff to be left to him, and my uncle wants the same. But my mom told me that one of them had reason to believe that she left it all to me. I don’t even know where they heard it, and don’t get me wrong, I’m not ungrateful, I promise. I just don’t know what to do about the two grown men that she apparently left out of the will if that’s true, and how mad they’re going to be at me.” 

“They wouldn’t be mad at you.” 

“You don’t know my dad,” you scoffed. You knew damn well that the man wasn’t afraid of throwing a tantrum, especially if it came to money. And he wouldn’t care if you were the one getting hurt in the process. 

“What would they have to be mad at you for though? For your Grandma loving you enough to leave you something to start your life on? How is that your fault?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault, they just care that they get their share. If it’s left to me, I might as well just divvy it up before they say anything.”

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“I just don’t want to have any issue with them.” 

“I’m sorry, that’s not fair to you.” 

“You really need to stop being so nice, you’re going to make me cry,” you chuckled, genuinely fighting back the tears as you spoke. 

“Sorry,” he chuckled back. He took a subject before continuing. “Have you seen the house? Like have you ever visited?”

“No, actually. Who knows, maybe it’s a real fixer upper and I’d be better off passing it on to my uncle,” you giggled, and that put the smile back on Eddie’s face. 

“If I didn’t mess up the address, it should just be in this next neighborhood.”

You kept saying that all you wanted was to get some rest after your long day, but now that you were talking to Eddie, you didn’t want the drive to end. The disappointment hit you like a rock as he pulled into the driveway of your grandmothers old house, but the feeling quickly turned to something else as you looked out the window to see the beautiful 2 story house with large trees on either side. 

“So much for the fixer upper theory,” Eddie said with a whistle, but you were speechless. This was much more than you had been anticipating, much nicer than you had spent your younger years picturing every time you missed your grandma. 

“You ok?” he asked after a moment of silence. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just taking it in,” you chuckled nervously, still staring at the house. 

“Why don’t we get you inside?” He said, reaching in the back for your suitcase. You put a hand gently on his arm to stop him, and he looked up to see your nearly empty stare, still on the building in front of you. 

“Can you give me just a minute? I’m sorry, I know it’s late.” 

“No, it’s fine… Are you ok?”

“Yeah…Yeah, It just,” you trailed off for a moment, “I hadn’t seen her in years. Had no idea what her house looked like, or what she looked like anymore. I got letters, I got calls, but… Part of all this didn’t feel as real. Going in there, that’s real.” 

“Want me to come in with you?”

“No, that’s fine. I just need a second.” 

“Have you ever lost anyone before?”

You didn’t answer, just shook your head as you moved your eyes from the house to him. 

“Let me walk you in. You shouldn’t be alone for that.” 

You looked back at the house for a moment, took a deep breath, and nodded your head. 

Eddie carried your suitcase through the front door, and you both kicked off your shoes before stepping on the carpet. You took a deep breath before reaching for the light switch. Eddie sensed your hesitation as your fingers hovered. He took the opportunity to grab the fingers of your other hand. It gave you enough courage to turn on the light in the entry way. 

The furniture was mostly unfamiliar. You could see a few pieces in the living room that you had remembered from your childhood, and the sense of nostalgia calmed you. Eddie let you walk ahead of him, letting go of your hand as you ventured further into the room. Slowly but surely, you made your way to a wall on the other side of the room. It was covered in pictures, new and old, of your grandma with family and friends. You recognized yourself in plenty of them, but the newer ones were the ones that you couldn’t stop looking at. She looked so much older that you had remembered, but still had the youthful glow to her that you had attributed to her mischievousness. No matter how old she got, how wrinkled her face grew, or how gray her had and gotten, you still recognized her. Part of your heart began to ache for not knowing her as she was before she passed. It had been so long. 

You felt Eddie approach you from behind, and you expect him to say something nice, or encouraging. But he didn’t. He was surprisingly quiet. You turned to make sure he was alright, but he didn’t seem fine. He was staring at one of the photos on the wall, and he looked like he was about to be sick.

“Are you ok, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, still white as a sheet as he tore his eyes from the photo to look at you. He barely shot you a half smile before looking back up at the pictures. You took a step back to stand next to him. 

“I just remembered that she worked at the middle school when she moved here. Did you know her?”

“Yeah.”

“…Did you like her?” you tried asking after waiting for him to say anything more. 

“Yeah, she introduced me to my best friend.”

“Me too,” you smiled at the memory of your old pen pal. 

“Someone back home?”

“No, actually. I probably shouldn’t refer to him as that still. We haven’t spoken in… years actually.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, finally peeling his eyes away from the photos on the wall. 

He should have said more, but he didn’t know what else to say. This was her. He was in shock. The girl he had spent the last decade wondering about had wandered into his diner. His thoughts were moving a mile a minute, he felt like he could physically hear them, and it was hard to focus on anything you had possibly said. But luckily, you weren’t saying much. 

He followed you like a ghost as you explored the first floor of the house. You were happy you had arrived before anyone else. You had the chance to see the house how she had left it, how she had lived in it. It gave you a sense of closure you weren’t going to get otherwise, it felt as if you were getting a sense of knowing her once again. You were caught up in it until you saw a clock on the wall, reading nearly 5 am. Realization hit you that you were keeping Eddie, and a sense of guilt washed over you. You turned to find him, with a bit of color returned to his face. 

“It’s really late, I’m sorry I’ve kept you. You can go home if you’d like. I’m sure you want to get some rest too after your shift.” 

He took a second, before asking, “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” And you hesitated before nodding. 

“Honestly, the roads are pretty bad out there. I could stay on the couch, help you figure out your car in the morning. How does that sound?”

He way have been a complete stranger just hours ago, but you really did feel like you could trust him. So you smiled and nodded. 

“I’ll go find some blankets for you,” you smiled before disappearing up the stairs. Eddie didn’t expect you to come back for a while. You were bound to find your grandmothers bedroom and need to look around for a while. He made his way back to the living room while he waited. He stared at the wall again, but not in shock this time. Now that he knew was 24 year old you looked like, he desperately want to see what 12 year old you looked like. He found a picture near the middle of the wall, of a young girl smiling at the camera. It was the only photo on the wall without your grandmother in it. She had your eyes, had your smile, but most importantly, she actually looked like the drawing he had received all those years ago. You weren’t as bad of an artist as you’d thought. Eddie tried not to grow emotional staring at the photo. He only tore his eyes away from the picture of younger you when he heard you making your way back down the stairs.

Before you could reach Eddie, you paused by the window next to the back door, blankets in hand. The snow coated the back yard, reflecting the light from the back porch into the sky. You began to tear up, just as Eddie approached to take the blankets from you. He saw one of the first tears fall down your cheek, and quickly, but gently put an arm around you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… Is this what it looks like every winter?” you asked, looking up at him with misty eyes. 

“For parts of it, yeah. Why?”

“Grandma loved the snow,” was all you could reply before looking back out at the yard. 

He contemplated it for a second, fought himself on whether or not this was the right moment to say it, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“I told you she’d like it here” 

A moment passed as you processed what he had said. You gasped quietly, quickly turning your head to face him. He looked nervous, as if he had just handed his heart to you on a platter, waiting to see if you would reject it. 

“Eddie?” you asked cautiously, and you both knew what the question really was. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, still nervous and unable to read what you were thinking. 

“You stopped writing,” was all you could get out before another tear dropped. 

“What?”

“Y-you stopped writing,” you repeated, beginning to choke on your breathes as you spoke. 

He nearly panicked as he tried to reply. 

“Y/n, w-what do you mean? I only stopped writing when you stopped replying.”

“Oh my god, it’s really you,” you couldn’t stop looking at him, another tear dropping down your cheek. Your exhaustion was exaggerating your emotions, but you may have felt the same regardless. You had waited 12 years for this moment. 

“Yeah. Why don’t we go sit down,” he smiled at you, before herding you towards the couch. 

“Y/n,” he spoke softly as he crouch in front of you, one hand resting on each of your knees as you sat on the couch, “What do you mean I stopped writing?”

“I sent you a letter, you never replied.”

“That’s impossible, I waiting for months to hear back from you. There’s no way I missed a letter from you.”

“No, I sent one, and I waited, but you never replied. You broke my heart Eds,” you quietly began to sob, filled with too many mixed emotions. 

Eddie quickly sat next to you on the couch and pulled you to his chest to comfort you the best he could, but he was still confused. He had checked his own mailbox, his neighbors mailboxes, other houses in town with the same street number as his trailer. This didn’t add up. He quietly shushed you as he thought. 

“What did the last letter say?” he asked as you began to calm down just slightly. He had half the collection of your letters memorized, but especially the first and last. He would know if he had read it if you described it. 

“It was before Freshman year, I told you how scared I was that all the kids were going to be mean. I was so afraid that I was going to get singled out for still having no friends, and I waited for months to hear back from you. But you never wrote back. You were my only friend, and you stopped writing.”

“No, sweetheart, I would never,” he sighed as his heart dropped. He got that letter, he replied to it. Which meant that she never got his last letter. Neither of them had stopped writing on purpose, they had both assumed the other had given up. But he had sent out one last letter that was unaccounted for.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me,” he gently guided you to look up at him, “I promise you, I wrote back. I don’t know what happened to it, but I never would have stopped writing like that. I thought you had just ignored my last letter.”

“You wrote,” you said quietly, and Eddie couldn’t tell if it was a question, or if you were trying to reassure yourself. 

“I did, I promise,” he whispered as he swept a tear off your cheek with his thumb. 

And though you still needed to know what happened to his letter, and you had had one of the longest days of your life, nothing mattered more to you in that moment than leaning in, slowly. You took a second, pausing right before reaching his lips so he could pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t. It was a quick kiss, but it was gentle and sweet. Eddie didn’t try to pull you in for another, but he didn’t want to part as you pulled away. 

It took him a second to open his eyes again, but when he did, he was smiling just as big as you. 

“You ok?” he asked for what must have been the hundredth time that night. But unlike every other time you had answered, this time you told him the truth. 

“I am now.”

(may or may not be already trying to figure out a part 2 for this, depending on if people like it <3 )

@embrace-themagic @fanficparker  @heartbeats-wildly @saturn-aka-six @calum-hoodwinked-me @peterplanet @mischiefmanaged49 @nicotine-sunshine820 @itsjusttor @emistrash @thenoddingbunny-blog @sovereignparker @raajali3 @eddielives1986 @eddieswifu @chickpeadumpsterfire @fluffybunnyu @panagiasikelia @canthavetoomuchchaos @whenshelanded @starlitlakes @witchwolflea @ali-r3n @g0thdraculaura @celestcies

[eu-nicola]

Beyond Friendship - Percy Jackson x Reader

summary: In a journey of years, you and Percy discover that your connection goes beyond friendship.

warnings: without ( maybe clarify that I don't like what I wrote )

thanks to @lady-ashfade for the amazing divider

You and Percy were in front of the mysterious Oracle of Delphi. With determination in their eyes, they decided to accept this journey so that no one else would have to go through any danger. You didn't imagine that such a mission would ever be given to you, but you were still willing to do your best to emerge victorious.

Not even a week had passed that you and Percy had already set out on the path for this task, you certainly still had a long way to go but with Percy by your side things became easier for you.

“Do you think we're ready for this?” Percy asked you.

“Yes, I believe it, we are children of our Gods and that makes us stronger and more intelligent, that's what my mother always tells me.” You answered him while you settled on a couch in a hotel that your mother had arranged for you to get to.

“Have you always been close to your mother?”

“As far back as I can remember, she claims me from the first minute i arrived at the camp. I felt honored to be her daughter.”

“I'm glad that at least one is close to a God.” While Percy was saying all this you could tell how he really wanted to be close to his father.

“The gods act in strange ways, don't worry, I'm sure your father wants the same thing, it's just difficult.”

"I guess so".

"Percy, you know we should start planning what we're going to do." You asked him.

“Yes, well, I haven't thought about it much. Do you have any idea?".

“Maybe we should go to the temple of Athena, there is a hidden library there.” Said.

“That sounds good but now I want to sleep, rest.” After that you and Percy fell asleep as fast as you could.

As the days went by and you investigated the clues, you and Percy without realizing it became closer and every time you spent time together you got along better. Percy's bravery and cunning complemented perfectly with your beauty and insight.

In every dangerous situation both found themselves in, supported each other, trusting in yours abilities and the special connection they had discovered. Together, they overcame obstacles, faced mythological creatures, and challenged powerful enemies trying to stop them.

With each step they took, the enigma slowly unraveled. You and Percy discovered that the Oracle of Delphi held dark secrets that threatened the fate of the demigods and the balance of the world.

Armed with their bravery and determination, they faced the powerful enemies that protected the Oracle. They no longer seemed like just two children but rather young people willing to do whatever was necessary to protect their loved ones.

This journey had lasted for years where you had made new friends and new people had joined you in the same situation, in that time you and Percy realized how much you had learned from each other. Their connection had grown into something more than friendship.

Together, they continued to face challenges and celebrate each achievement. Their connection grew even stronger, becoming an inseparable team. At the end of your journey, you and Percy had completed everything and solved the riddle, which had taken you down difficult but never impossible paths.

When they finally returned to Camp Half-Blood, their names were already echoing throughout the camp and even Olympus, for now everything was at peace and they hoped it would stay that way.

[fereldanwench]

I didn't want to completely sit out a year-in-review, but for reasons I'll explain at the end of this post and under a cut, doing the traditional pick-one-pic-from-each-month approach just wasn't going to work for me. So instead, here are 20 of my favorite shots (in no particular order) of Valerie from 2023!

(I'll share solo Goro shots and shippy/story shots in two other posts before the year ends.)

Some thoughts about this year (cw for anxiety and depression mentions):

So yeah. I actually hadn't planned on joining in on the virtual photography year-in-review fun in part because... Well, frankly, I wasn't sure if it would actually be fun for me.

Although I do have pictures for every month, the first third, maybe even half, of the year was a struggle on almost every conceivable level. A lot of it was shit that carried over from the end of 2022, which was also an incredibly difficult year for me. I don't really want to delve too deeply into why--Some of it was personal, some of it was professional, some of it was fandom, and if you know, you know.

The main obstacle I had here is that looking at a lot of the shots I took from about January to May (give or take a few weeks on either end) honestly reminded me of Bad Times™️. I've worked really hard to pull myself out of that depression/anxiety cycle and return to a healthier approach to fandom and online socialization in general, but I just didn't want to spend a lot of time in that mental space. There are a few shots from those months that made it to my favorites, and I hope one day I can look back on that stuff and just feel the good from it again. Alas, that day is still not here.

But I am happy to report that the other reason I wanted to approach the review differently is a lot more positive! It's also two-fold: 1) I spent the earlier part of this year exploring more of a technical side of virtual photography and 2) I was really prolific the last third or so of this year so trying to narrow faves from about August until now was just not possible.

One of the few good things about the end of 2022 was being able to upgrade my graphics card, which meant I then had a rig that could support ray-tracing and hot sampling. As a result, I started putting a lot more focus on lighting and getting acquainted with new tools. I also was trying to work with the new AMM posing system, which is very convenient in some ways (100s of poses without reloading the game!) and a complete pain in the ass in others (can't move characters without their poses breaking!). Custom photomode poses + Nibbles Replacer has been the game changer I've been waiting for.

Or to put it more succinctly, December 2022 through about April 2023 felt like a relearning/return to basics kind of creative period, which is essential, but also means I just don't really like a lot of what I did, lmao.

Then, shockingly (I'm not shocked at all), starting treatment for my anxiety and depression in the second half of this year suddenly made creating a lot easier and fun again! Crazy how that works.

Even bumping this little review up to 20 shots instead of 12, there are still pictures from the past few months that I had to cut as favorites. There was just no way I could condense the amount of fave shots I took from August to now in just 5 options.

I also owe quite a bit of this revival to modders for asking me if I wanted to take shots for them--Exploring more of a fashion photography approach to my shots I think did a lot to build on what I had learned earlier in the year and encouraged me to try something new. I don't want to tag anyone in this long-ass glorified diary entry, but if you invited me to take mod shots for you, just know that it really meant a lot. ♡

And that's where my head has been with a yearly review! Is filling out a little template with 12 pictures this serious? No, it definitely is not, lmao. But hey, overthinking shit is still something I'm working on. ✌️

[yuzukahibiscus]

Takarazuka Revue Cosmos Troupe Top Star Serika Toa's Retirement Conference

(Source from Sponichi | Before you read – this translation mentioned the incident of the deceased sienne in Cosmos Troupe)

Serika Toa had her retirement press conference on the 3rd in Osaka after announcing that she will be retiring from Takarazuka in April 27 2025.

She appeared in a pearl white suit and didn't cry, but remained a cheerful expression from start to end. The Revue emphasised the importance of "keeping the conference with questions limited to the retirement only"

Serika's message

Every day I continue to learn as I spend my days at Takarazuka that I love so much. This is all thanks to all the supporting fans that I am able to face the stage and myself, so I'm sincerely grateful. I was so happy to find something that I dived into and enjoyed so much. Before the day of my graduation and to repay this gratitude to everyone who's supported me, I want to keep growing as much as I can. Please continue to support me.

Regarding the timing of your retirement, was this affected by the incident of the deceased sienne last September?

I believe retirement is what one would always consider when they have passed a certain year of being in the revue. Everyone, it wasn't really about having a specific goal on my path to pursue the performing arts. Yet it was my goal when I was appointed as a Top Star that I wanted to be the leading role of 3 performances. I have already decided on just doing 3 lead performance when I was appointed a Top Star so there's no direct relation (to the sienne's death).

How did the troupe members react to your retirement news?

There was a little break between the closing day of "Le Grande Escalier" which was a few days ago, and the next performance, so I announced the news to the Cosmos Troupe members via LINE message. I'm not too sure how they react yet, but because we're splitting in two teams of rehearsals, I'd like to meet them directly and respectively on the first day of rehearsals.

What did you learn in the long time of supporting Top Stars?

About the things I've learnt in Takarazuka? I spent half my life there, and (Takarazuka) in terms of shaping me as a person, I'd say that I've learnt almost everything there. The greatest thing I've learnt is to be honest and sincere to myself.

So you wrote a LINE message your troupe members. How did you tell the Top Musumeyaku Haruno Sakura?

I told her at an appropriate time during the "Le Grand Escalier" performances earlier when we met each other directly. I can't say her reaction without her permission...

Message to fans

It's because I have my fans, it's because everyone is here, that I was able to overcome (setbacks). I think I can never repay these (sentiments) no matter how hard I tried. It really was a grand love (from them). But in my remaining Takarazuka life, I will try my best to repay the best I can and to repay even the least, I want to deliver the most amazing stages. Please look forward.

You also told your classmate (Snow Troupe Top Star) Ayakaze Sakina about your retirement news?

Of course, I contacted her. Even though it was a LINE message only. Because of the pandemic, there wasn’t much communication as us classmates or for our troupes (Cosmos Troupe and Snow Troupe). That was truly regretful, because had there been more interactions, I would have learnt more about various things. But she’s a classmate I really cherish. I never dream that I would be staying the longest ever since entering Takarazuka Music School and the Revue, but that’s how it turned out.

What is your future ahead after graduating?

I still haven’t had a complete vision of it. Before April 27, I want to stay completely focused in this world, and beyond that, I hope to be able to find things that make me excited and thrilled.

What did your mother – who was also a Takarasienne – say?

My mother also said, "Do your best"

What are your memories for your 18 years of your Takarazuka life?

There was really a lot. But what changed my conscious, or the turning point for me was the Takarazuka Revue 100th anniversary. At that time, I felt it’s because of the weight of history, and how the seniors have so much love, that this Revue could continue on (its business). And that’s what caused the media to pay attention even more, that it’d be great for Takarazuka Revue to continue developing even further. And to do that, it means I have to enhance my performance, that really change of my conscious (of performing).

What do you hope to leave for the juniors?

What should I say.. Something to leave for them, I’d rather say that I’m looking forward to seeing their future activities!

How was your 18 years of Takarazuka life?

It was a very exciting Takrazuka life.

How did you feel performing again after standing on the stage of the Takarazuka Grand Theatre in the show with the meaning of "the grand staircase"?

I was really nervous on the opening day. I remember only being so nervous, but then I heard the wam applause. The "Le Grand Escalier" had the happiest, and warmest ambience I have felt for the past 18 years."

What kind of troupe do you want Cosmos Troupe to be?

I hope everyone is healthy, and sincerely wish them to be happy.

Her graduation performance will be "110 Love Songs" "Razzle Dazzle" that will be performed in the Takarazuka Grand Theatre from 2025/1/1 to 2/2 and in the Tokyo Takarazuka Theatre, from 2025/3/15~4/27.

[estrella-zoe39]

i love dumping random shit onto my tumblr anyway weird discussion of the most random fandoms combined go! mostly discuses love as core themes of stories.

i think my favourite pieces of media are those that just dont make sense if you dont view them as a love story. i came across this discovery as i was watching code geass ep 17 when lulu goes insane when he realises the one thing thats in his way is also the person he trusts completely. there is no other genuine explanation other than love for the reasoning of his reaction in that scene. with shirley he had this mellow yet sorrowful reaction when he realised he couldnt be with her anymore. not saying there wasnt a part of him that didnt love her but with suzaku? he goes berserk. whatever he felt couldnt have happened if he didnt love suzaku.

other good examples of this are frieren, orv, and house. there are more my brain is just kinda fried rn and i think these three are good examples of like. varying levels of how explicit the message is. (theyre all obvious af tho)

ill start with frieren because i think if youve even like. heard about it youll know but himmel and frierens relationship really is the core of like the entire story. a boy who loved too soon and a girl who loved too late. frieren just isnt. frieren when you take that away. frieren at its like core is about love you cant just remove that because then the story wouldnt be the same it probably wouldnt even exist!!! and im sure everyone knows this its just surprising how frieren isnt officially a romance manga considering its entire premise

another example is orv which is a bit harder to know if youve only read the webtoon. orvs story just wouldnt exist if hsy didnt love kdj. if she didnt write yjh and then kdj wouldve died, plain and simple. and if kdj didnt love the story back then he wouldve also died. hsy, yjh, and kdj at their core are their love for each other. hsy spent 12 years writing a book everyday just for kdj to keep on living and in kaizenix she waited 50 years for him. yjh spent the entirety of orv learning how to love from kdj, through fighting alongside him, through protecting him, through seeing him die, even when he learned he wasnt real he still believed him, and in the end yjh was the one who let kdj be known in every universe. his mission was something that he only could brave through if he loved kdj. and he did. speaking of kdj, i think its very obvious to everyone but his self-sacrificial nature is due to him only knowing that as a love language. something else is how without kdjs love, orv also just wouldnt exist. if his love for twsa, for the chars, for STORIES, didnt exist, he wouldnt be alive. if he didnt keep on molding twsa, to be alongside every yjh and co, to suggest new plot points, he wouldve never came to love it.

onto my last example, house. now i think you gotta be a very specific type of person to catch them (its called not being homophobic) but man are house and wilson like. house the show itself. their love defines the show, from the first scene to the last. he only took that first case which started everything because of wilson. half of his stupid antics are because of wilson. his love starts and ends at wilson because he knows wilson will be the one person who will always be there consistently for him. because no matter what happens, like house getting sent to trial by tritter, or house failing to save amber, they will be together, whether they want to or not. so when wilson is diagnosed with cancer, he breaks. the one person who he thought would always be there for him. isnt. in fact, he'll die first. and so, he does everything. he listens to wilsons stupid fucking ideas because he needs wilson to be there for him, he needs wilson at his grave, not him at wilsons. thats why he gives everything to wilson, his vicodin, his attention, and even his life. the only reason he dies is so he can be with wilson. none of this actions can be done without love in them, absolutely none. i think my favourite quote of them is "if house chops down a tree, and wilson isnt around to hear it, did it really fall?" it just sums up their stupid, needy, insane, and romantic dynamic so much.

all of these pieces of media need love in them to be them, so i hope ive loved them more than they could ever want, despite some of their flaws 🩷🩷🩷

[gabessquishytum]

This has been haunting my head forever, but as we all know Robert Smith was the leading inspiration for Dream in the comics with more than a bit of Neil sprinkled in there (and a few other goth rock bands like Bauhaus' Peter Murphy) and I just can't get over the image of a goth rockstar Dream.

It's the late 70s, and our boy Dream is riding a creative high of LSD and pedal effects to the top of the pops. They're calling the band he fronts, name and members are up to you or whoever takes this idea on, Goth bc they're too dark for New Wave but are just upbeat enough to steer clear of Televison's particular brand of Post-Punk. It's a newer label but a fitting one considering how dour and moody the genre has gotten since Ian Curtis's death. One he despises as he claims he's very happy with his current success and how his life is going.

But he's not happy. He hates playing to the newly forming stereotype of his fans, but he isn't. Celebrity Marriages hardly ever last and his relationship with his novelist wife is crumbling around him. He loves his son but the touring schedule is killing all of his free time. He's also pretty deep into substance abuse but he wouldn't admit it to his big sister let alone the random journo who has a camera in his face while he's trying to catch a 5:30 am flight to start his newest tour. He's just burnt out and creatively stuck as the label tries to pigeonhole him into this new subgenre, which he doesn't want anymore. Life, his life, can't be doom and gloom forever even though that's where it looks like it's heading. Forever being hailed as the Nightmare King.

Meanwhile, three radio stations over, Hob Gadling is desperately trying to hang onto life. He's a bit older now than when he first broke out onto the music scene as a rambunctious coat rider of the Sex Pistols, but he's still going strong. Punk has always been his outlet. Life sucks and you keep on living despite it. It tried to kill him not long after he debuted with substance use, but he powered through it and got clean. His wife died in childbirth, but he stuck around to raise his son. He even took a three-year hiatus and completely missed how much the sound had changed from his younger years. Even as post-punk has risen in popularity and the friends he knew have either died or changed their sound completely, he won't give up hope! Punk's not dead and neither is he. No matter how long his hair gets or if he grows out of his leather jacket.

The two meet rather coincidentally. Hob just happens to be opening for Dream on the Europe leg of his tour. Unsurprisingly the tension around Dream's band has become a powder keg and when he finally snaps and fires his guitarist, his bassist also leaves. With half the band gone, Dream considers calling it quits right then and there. Fuck the new album, fuck the last fifteen or so dates. He wants to go home. But Hob sees how close they are to finishing the tour and puts his foot down. They will finish the tour! So he offers up his services to Dream. He's not bad with a guitar and if Dream can cover the bass, then he'll play all night if he has to. Because out there on stage? That's life and he wants to keep making people happy and give them something that might transcend time and space. To never die bc his name is there among the annuls of rock history.

And in time, Dream will come around to his new friend. He will learn to appreciate the zest for performing and living his new friend has. He will also think he has the greatest body known to man and will forever laugh at the terribly done anarchy A Hob has tattooed on his ass, but that's neither for here or there. For now, Dream pulls himself together and gets his bass out from the dark pits of hell the roadies call gear storage. For the show must go on.

Oh god I want an entire novel length story around this. It’s fantastic! I have so many thoughts about these two!!

Hob is falling in love with all the new sounds that he’s hearing. He spent his time on his hiatus being a suburban dad, and now he’s back on the scene is just feels amazing. He can’t get enough of Roxy Music and David Bowie and Elvis Costello. And he’s determined to drag himself back up among those names! He’s got so many ideas of where punk can go! And he’s fascinated by Dream and his band. The lyrics are a little dark and wallowy, but Hob understands that actually people need to hear that. Life in the UK isn’t easy, particularly for young people. They need something loud and desperate and real. Little does he know, Dream feels like what he’s doing is so far away from being real. He feels likes such a fraud. He can’t get off the hamster wheel except by shooting up and passing out.

Hob recognises all of this in approximately 0.5 seconds after meeting Dream. It makes him pretty sad, but he’s determined that he’ll lift Dream out of his funk. If nothing else, he’ll make him love music again.

So when Hob said he was OK with a guitar, he was lying - he's actually a bit of a genius, and it's fair to say that Dream falls a little bit in love with him about half way through the sound check. Instead of hiding in the dressing room and licking his wounds over the band breaking up, he actually watches as Hob opens for him. Hob is very classic punk, it's all very "fuck the government, fuck me up the arse" kind of stuff, but Dream doesn't get bored for a single second. Hob is just that entertaining, and his riffs are insane. Dream itches to write a song for him. And when Hob ends the set with a jokey little song that his five year old son allegedy wrote the lyrics for (lil Robyn is very punk, just like his daddy) Dream’s eyes actually get a bit misty. It's probably all the smoke.

And there's really no time to get emotional! Dream’s drummer, Constantine, thankfully didn't walk out with the rest of them. So somehow, with Hob’s virtuosic guitar skills and sheer determination, plus Dream’s refusal to fail yet again, they actually make a really decent show. Dream feels a tingle of the old spark that he used to get when he first started out - it probably has something to do with the way Hob upends a bottle of water all over his head half way through the show and grins like a maniac.

After the show they crash in a local hotel. Hob calls his kid from the payphone and Dream wishes that he had the courage to do the same. Instead he takes some pills so he doesn't have to feel the high from the show gradually wearing off into nothingness. He doesn't know why Hob comes and sits next to him in the dark, pressing against him from thigh to shoulder. He stays for the whole of Dream’s trip, in fact, humming something quiet and classic. Dream feels quite ashamed of himself, and for the first time he thinks that maybe he'd feel better without the drugs. Maybe.

As the tour gets off to a slow start, Dream starts to notice that Hob is having some kind of positive effect on him. Just little thing. They get breakfast together, so Dream actually eats something, which is unusual. Their little arguments don't get out of hand, because Hob never lets them escalate. When Dream is angry and spitting at the world, Hob is sure to point of something positive. Not that Hob doesn't get sad, too - he just deals with it differently. He goes for long walks, and turns off the news when it gets bad. He gets himself a snack when he's irritable, and laughs about it afterwards.

Dream writes him a near impossible guitar solo and it feels like a "thank you".

They have a sweet, unexpected first kiss. It's 2am and they're standing at the edge of the road, waiting for a mechanic to come out to their broken down tour bus. There's no one around to see, so Dream rests his head on Hob’s shoulder. He's sore, and weary. Hob turns his head slightly and tucks an arm around him, and it just happens. They kiss. It is, of course, the first of many.

And you can bet that Dream kisses that anarchy tattoo a million time, too.

[lucyandthepen]

(give me that) can't sleep love | cyj

you’ve been managing yeonjun flawlessly for a few good years now, but there are just some things you can’t keep under control. the obvious solution? a blind date that skews towards the unexpected.

pairing: solo idol!yeonjun x reader rating: T genre: romance warnings: none! like the narrative has a swear word like idk once? word count: 3.5k 

author’s notes: yeah it’s not actually valentine’s day but we write for a completely new fandom because we simply have no restraint !! just kidding, i’ve actually been hoping to extend my writing for other groups, but i haven’t yet because i’m extremely slow and a bit fickle. this is my first time writing for anything txt, but i hope to do so a bit more in the future! 

if you like it, please consider reblogging to help spread the word!

Maybe your mom was right. Maybe the entertainment industry just isn’t for you.

She’d actively warned you against dedicating your time to, well, anything involving the glitz and glam, but you just hadn’t listened. There had been good opportunities, great experiences you’d never get anywhere else. For the most part, your choices had helped that expectation become that reality; you’d met people not just anyone got to meet, and you’d definitely had a substantial amount of unique encounters.

Still, you were aware that the only reason you’d ever gotten the chance to taste a little bit of the high life was because you had Yeonjun on your side. Choi Yeonjun — the rising star of the idol world, with a better career trajectory than the guy who owned Apple, it seemed. His job was the access pass to everything you enjoyed. Unfortunately, your ticket to all the good things was also the key to your prolonged misery.

As his manager, you have a ton of roles to play — logistics coordinator, scheduler, alarm clock, wardrobe checker, and, on one unfortunate incident, last-minute make-up artist when the original girl had been a no-show. You were supposed to be busy at every turn, but Yeonjun on the job was something of a well-oiled machine, learning how to feed himself while you were on the phone and follow the line-up to the letter as long as he was awake enough to do it. It’s possible you could blame him for all the downtime you got that had led to the bulk of the problem.

Actually, you aren’t sure when it started or even how. Maybe it had happened somewhere in the middle of all his showcases and shows, sandwiched between the constant fever of communication and movement. Maybe it had come up in those hectic car rides where you’d spent a ton of time reminding him of what to do and what to expect. Or maybe it had grown with every time you had to wake him up in one of many lonely hotel rooms, with his head half-buried in the pillow to muffle the sleepy groans he’d use to respond to your soft voice.

Whenever it was, all you could be sure of was that you liked him. A lot. Maybe even with the time you’d come to know him, after all these years, a part of you was ready to say you loved him.

But that was the biggest barrier in the job, wasn’t it? Managers are supposed to stop their idols from dating, not want to do it with them. For the most part, you’ve been successful in holding yourself back from doing something stupid, which is technically the bare minimum for you. These days, though, you aren’t sure what it is; maybe you’re just on edge from all the work in this year’s promotional stint, and that kind of contributes to a weakened mentality, or some kind of wack explanation like that, but you find yourself more often losing your train of thought when you’re with him. Even without detailing the specifics to your friends and co-workers, they’ve noticed something was bothering you. They’d urged you to relieve yourself of your duties a little, maybe hire a co-manager to do all the menial stuff, but you know that’s not really the issue. Only one person — Sunyoung, Yeonjun’s wardrobe stylist — had managed to hit the nail on the head semi-accurately.  

“Look, I get it,” she’d said one evening, after she’d shooed Yeonjun out of the dressing room so he could strap on his in-ear piece and prepare for the stage. You were supposed to be running around like a headless chicken, making sure everything was in check, but you were just slumped on the couch in the dressing room playing some dumb shark game your nephew had downloaded onto your phone. “You’re tired. You’re lonely. You can’t even go out for a cup of coffee without worrying about Yeonjun. But he’s fine. You can relax a little.”

“I’m totally relaxed,” you’d mumbled, watching your shark devour a poor surfer on your screen. “I’m fine.”

“Then you should get out more. Leave all of this behind and meet new people. Go on a date. Listen,” she’d covered your phone with her palm, and you heard the telltale music of your game coming to a bitter end. “Do something fun. Go on a date, seriously. I can set you up. It doesn’t even have to be anything serious, ____________! Just do something not work-related for once next week, and get this toxicity or whatever out of your system.”

You didn’t have the heart to say no or the courage to admit that nothing really would happen if that date wasn’t with Yeonjun, considering how far gone you were, so you’d just agreed.

Sunyoung had set you up for a Valentine’s Day date. Ironically, while the point was supposedly to get your mind off of Yeonjun on that day, he had a scheduled fan sign in Sinchon that you couldn’t miss out on. You had to pack an extra set of nicer clothes and a make-up bag that Yeonjun had eyed questioningly but silently as you’d entered the van.

“So how long is this fan sign?” He’d asked instead, immediately turning his attention to his phone the moment the van had started moving.

“Until six.”

“Then I don’t have another schedule, right?”

“No.” You don’t really ask why he’s curious; Yeonjun enjoys his personal time, as any celebrity does. “You’re free after. The van can take you home, or wherever else you need to be.”

He’d hummed appreciatively, fixated on his phone, and the rest of the ride is consumed in silence until you’d arrive at the venue.  

Yeonjun is whisked immediately into hair and make-up, and Sunyoung emerges from his dressing tent a few moments after he disappears inside, portable clothes steamer in hand. “Hey; did you get my text?”

You shake your head; you’d spent the car ride irresponsibly ignoring your phone, opting to gnaw on one of your nails instead.  

“I sent you the details of a reservation slot in this nice Italian place near Dongdaemun. Just drop my name and they’ll lead you to the table.”

“Look, I don’t really know if I want to do this,” you mumble sheepishly. “Blind dating isn’t my speed.”  

“Just go. It’ll be fine. If you don’t like him, you don’t like him. Just give it a shot. If all else fails, just enjoy the pasta,” she’d said with finality, bopping the nozzle of the steamer on your shoulder as she walks away.  

Yeonjun is out of the dressing room in twenty minutes, and even then, you’re not sure why it takes that long. You’ve consistently held the belief that Yeonjun doesn’t need make-up to look good, and you can hardly tell when he has it on, anyway. Still, it’s nice to see his stylist pushing his hair up into a neat, tiny quiff, and he’s changed from his standard white tee and jeans to something that resembles a casual suit. You guessed they did it for Valentine’s Day — emulating the coveted boyfriend look, and all that.  

“How do I look?” He asks you, right before you lead him onstage. His eyes follow your hand as you fix the front of his jacket quickly.  

“Great,” you reply. “As usual.”

“So until six, right?” His mouth is lifting into a grin that you can’t really understand.  

“Until six,” you confirm, now a little curious. “You got somewhere to be?”  

“Not sure,” he looks down at you enigmatically. “It’s my off time, so we’ll see what happens.”  

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, even though there’s no heat in your words. You know he’s not dumb enough to gallivant around doing things that will get him on Dispatch’s radar.  

He just laughs, giving you a small wink before he hops onstage, taking two steps at a time. The voices around you are drowned out by the screams that ensue once his fans see him.  

From then on, it’s just the same pattern for the next two hours — you, standing on one corner of the stage beside a guy from security, watching hundreds of girls in a line titter and scream and fall to their knees in front of the table where Yeonjun is seated at. They’ve all got albums in their hands, offering them to him reverently for a signature, and he takes them all good-naturedly, scrawling his name and some short, practically unreadable message somewhere around it while chatting with them about food he likes and what movies he’s into these days.  

Since it’s Valentine’s Day, a ton of girls come with romantic gifts — flowers, chocolates, goodies baskets. One girl even brings a large teddy bear, plopping it down in front of him unceremoniously and scaring Yeonjun into accidentally miswriting his signature. You and the rest of his management team aren’t really strict about prohibiting gifts, but Yeonjun refuses all of them — nicely, of course, but to the disappointment of many fans. Every time he says no, he glances at you, like he’s worried you’re going to tell him off if he says yes. You’d wondered once before if he was just trying to pin the blame on you, but you know he’s not cruel like that. Today doesn’t make a difference; he rejects people with apologetic looks as he gives their albums back, and you can see their dejection as they trod off the stage. The teddy bear girl had left the toy by the stairs in her disappointment.  

Yeonjun starts his closing ment at a quarter to six, and you tap the security guy next to you to remind him to bring him straight backstage after he’s finished before dashing off and ducking into the dressing room to change. You hear deafening cheers coupled with Yeonjun’s cute little goodbye! that signal the end of the fan sign, and you’ve just finished combing your hair back when Yeonjun walks in, idly patting his hair to see if everything is still in place.

“You look nice,” he observes casually, shrugging off his jacket. You try to avoid looking at him, even if his shoulders are so impossibly broad that you can’t really ever keep them out of your peripheral vision. “Do you have plans?”  

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you admit, unsure as to why you feel so guilty for saying so. You’re not dating, you have to remind yourself. And you’re allowed to go out after work.

“Meeting someone special?”  

“I’m not sure. Could be. I don’t know who I’m meeting, if I’m being honest.”  

His expression is unreadable; his fingers are twirling his marker in quick, hypnotizing circles.  

“Well, have fun,” he finally says, moving to hang his jacket on the back of a chair. “You should take the subway or something. Rush hour, and all that.”  

“Thanks for the tip.” His words sound pretty dismissive, but you’re not sure why you don’t just leave right away. Maybe you’re expecting him to say something, although it’s really more about what you wish he would rather than what he reasonably would, and he just continues to stare quietly, still toying with the Sharpie. “If you… need anything, just call. You know?”  

“I know,” he replies simply. “But I won’t bother you on a date. That’s just plain rude.”

“I’ll still answer. You know you’re more important than a blind date.”  

“Am I?” He looks amused. “Sounds like you take this job too seriously. Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably just go home after all. There’s a wildlife documentary I’m dying to catch.”  

You’re pretty sure you hadn’t meant the job, but you don’t correct him considering how that would out you. “Okay. See you bright and early tomorrow. Remember you’ve got a radio interview at nine, so can you please not stop by Starbucks before you go home? Please?”  

“Sure, sure,” he waves you and your nagging off, and you bolt out of the door, feeling kind of stupid and a little flushed.  

You take Yeonjun’s advice and get on the subway, except the first two trains Dongdaemun-bound are full to the brim and you have to squeeze yourself into the car of the third train by elbowing a couple of annoying teenage boys. The other problem you run into is that the train station exits are a fair way away from your destination, and you aren’t used to running in heels. You clip-clop your way down the sidewalk and hit every red light for the pedestrian crossings, much to your ire. At one point, you stop in the middle of the crossing and consider just storming back to the opposite end of the road and going home, but the subway station is too far away for that choice to make sense at that point anyway.  

By the time you get to the restaurant, you’re about fifteen minutes late and have to sit on the chairs for walk-in customers to give your feet a break. The guy at the front of the house has the decency to wait for you to catch your breath and even quietly point out that a lock of hair is stuck to your lip gloss before he asks if you have a reservation.  

You nervously pick at your dress and comb the ends of your hair as you follow him. You notice someone is already seated at the table, back to you and looking over the menu. You think about all the things that you want to say — sorry for being late, have you been waiting long?, I totally understand if you want to just leave — but there’s a weird nagging in the back of your mind that grows as you approach the table.  

Maybe Sunyoung had known you had a type, so to speak —lean, sharp, nicely dressed. Technically, that wasn’t such a difficult set of characteristics to find, but the fact that they were all rolled up into one package seated at your table, so similar to the guy you’ve pinned as ideal, was just kind of spooky. Even the fact that your blind date was laughing to himself at God knows what, alongside the fact that the way his angular shoulders moved up and down comically the way his would, isjust weird.

That, or…  

All thoughts of apologizing fly out the window once you reach the table. All you can do is stare, your ears ringing and your fingers clutching your wallet tightly. Your mind has completely disconnected from reality, and the first thing that tumbles out of your mouth is loud and a little crude.  

“Literally, what the hell?”  

All the guy at your table can do is laugh harder, clearly because he’s Lee Freaking Yeonjun, and he’s finding this situation sidesplittingly hilarious.  

“Yeonjun,” you hiss, your hand flying up and curling into a fist in an attempt to restrain yourself from grabbing him by the collar. “What are you doing here?”  

It takes him another half-minute to sober down, and he’s still chuckling a little as he answers. “Waiting for my date, obviously.”  

“Explain,” you demand, pointedly ignoring the looks couples from another table are giving you.

“Okay, but you have to sit down first,” he motions to the seat across from him. You pull it back and plop down onto it, gaze unwavering. He pauses, kind of dramatically, before continuing. “So there’s a set course meal, but I know you don’t like shellfish, so I thought—”

“I don’t want an explanation of the menu!” You shut your eyes, trying to block out the scene for a second. This can’t be happening. It makes no sense. “I want to know — wait, is this a prank?” 

“What? No, of course not.”  

“How are you here?”  

“I took the van here,” he says, once again elusive. “I actually thought you’d get here before me, but then I realized you probably had to walk a long way. Sorry.” He has the decency to look sheepish at this point.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m on a date?” He shakes his head. “What’s not clicking, ____________?”

“Don’t sass me. Please. Do me that one courtesy, if nothing else.” He watches you down your water in one go, still looking politely amused. “Did Sunyoung put you up to this?”  

“Actually, I asked her to rope you in.”

“Because?”  

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” He looks incredulous. “Because I like you. I thought that was kind of obvious from the get-go.”

Nothing is making sense to you. Your head is starting to hurt a little, maybe from the situation, maybe from the cold water you’d drunk too fast. “How was it obvious?” You thought you had been kind of obvious, which was why you had attempted to stay distant and pretty aloof for the past few months.  

“I listen to everything you say.”

“You have to,” you point out wearily. “That’s literally supposed to be our professional relationship.”  

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have done it so well and so frequently if it were anyone else who were my manager,” he tries to reason, then continues when you look unconvinced. “And the gifts. I don’t take them.”  

“So?”  

“So, I don’t have a reason to not take them, technically. I just don’t because I don’t want you to think I’m accepting other people’s affections.”  

“That makes no sense. They’re your fans, so that has nothing to do with personal affections. You’re terrible at this.”  

“Okay, fine — but so are you!” His voice transitions into something a little accusing. “It’s not like you’ve been good at showing me you like me either.”  

He pauses, and for the first time in your life, you see something cross his face — uncertainty, maybe, or anxiety.  

“You do like me, don’t you?”  

The fire of indignant anger fueled by your initial shock dies down, and you’re left feeling a little embarrassed now. The entire walk here, you’d been torturing yourself with the fantasy that you could be somewhere else with Yeonjun on a date, but now that he’s seated across you in the flesh, you have no clue what to do or how to react properly. You toy with your napkin, but you feel his eyes burning into you.  

“Fine. I do, but,” you raise your voice a little at the conjunction; he doesn’t even take you seriously, choosing to look relieved instead. “But I’m not supposed to, Yeonjun. This is bad.”  

“Why? We’re at an old people restaurant. No one’s going to recognize us.”  

“Because I’m not supposed to go on dates with the idol I’m managing.”

“Be honest,” his bottom lip juts out. “Is that all you think of me?”  

Your lips thin out into a tight line; it’s easy to say no if you’re cheeky like him, but you’re pretty sure it’s easier to fire a manager for dating off-bounds than it is to cut off an idol’s career for the same reason.  

“Can’t we be, you know,” he points between the two of you. “Just us? Not manager and idol. Just you and me. Just for tonight. And we can see how it goes.”  

You hate that you cave so easily. You hate that you know you do because you like him so much. Your hand comes up to your face, trying to rub the ache away from your temples. A small, triumphant grin is growing on Yeonjun, like he already knows what you’re going to say. It occurs to you that after all this time you’ve come to know him well, he may have reached the same level of familiarity with you as well.

“Fine,” you mumble, and he doesn’t even contain his joy, pumping his fist into the air embarrassingly. “Fine. Just for tonight.”  

“Just for tonight,” he agrees. “Then we can see how it goes.”  

When you finally decide to meet his eye, you can’t help but laugh softly. He’s looking a little smug, and you want to smack him, or maybe just kiss him a little, but you just nudge his foot under the table. It doesn’t do anything to faze that little shit-eating expression on his face.  

“Don’t think this gets you off of waking up early,” you warn, but you never do get to threaten him effectively with just how soft your words are. “I’m still hauling you out of bed at seven.”

“As long as it’s you,” he grins. “And no one else.”  

“Shut up,” you try to bite back your smile, ducking your head instead to look at the menu when you feel it growing anyway. “Order your food.”  

You know he’s not looking at the menu even as you pretend to peruse it. Still, he falls quiet, eerily so, and you think he’s just staring until you feel something soft land on top of your hand.

Your eyes lift again to his face, and he’s still smiling, albeit a little more serenely, without that joking expression he’s practically trademarked. His hand squeezes yours tightly, and even when he loosens his hold, his palm never leaves yours.  

“You really do look beautiful tonight,” he says softly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, _______________.”  

[freesia-writes]

Lil Life Update for Y'all <3

I've been a lil cryptic or back-n-forth, I think, and just wanted to share a little bit about what's been going on. I say it's not for attention but who knows what motives lurk under there, LOL. It's mostly because I love you all and want to let you in, also hope that it's encouraging or connective for anyone else who's experienced the same, and also I just miss the community I have sooooo loved here. 🥹

I'm a 34yo female with 2 kids aged 4 and 7. I had depression like crazy during and after my second pregnancy especially. In Aug 2021, my primary doc suggested I try something like Zoloft since I'd been complaining of irritability, no capacity, constant worry, and other anxiety symptoms. When I did feel some relief and felt encouraged that I could "feel like myself" again, I pursued solutions for other issues I was noticing. Over the last year and a half, it's been quite a ride. ADHD symptoms led to Adderall for 4 days, then Wellbutrin for a few months, then Buspar for a few months, then Strattera (tapering up and then back down) for about 3 months, then Ritalin for 1 month, which I thought was helping until we realized that the entire month of October was basically an increasingly manic episode.

Whew.

We're talkin 2007 Britney here (ok I didn't shave it but I cut my hair off into a pixie). Spent thousands on a new wardrobe of the "dark academia" style. Bought Disneyland tickets. Invested in a photography mentorship. So much energy and inspiration. Then we realized it was getting out of hand.

I had also been tapering off a lot of the meds over the last two months, so it was just a crazy cocktail of chemicals that made my brain finally go kaput. I finished the last dose of Zoloft on November 5th, and that was the last of the meds, so now I'm off everything. My therapist thought the mania was medication-induced due to all the changes plus the addition of the stimulant, so the goal was to try to allow everything to settle down and see what "baseline" is for me right now.

And it has been frickin HARD.

Cervical vertigo. All-or-nothing sleep and appetite. Extreme sensory sensitivity. Random itchiness. Racing mind. Total inability to focus. And the worst part has been the mood swings.

I'm basically having all the symptoms of bipolar disorder in a rapid-cycle format. It may be cyclothymia, or it may be the withdrawal effects from all the meds, but regardless... It's been quite the roller coaster. The nerd in me has been fascinated by the experiential knowledge of it all, since I majored in Psychology and have always loved learning about it, but the overall negative effects on me and my family have been difficult.

I'm someone who has always relied completely on being highly capable and in control. I find my worth in my productivity and competence. And it has caused increasing stress throughout my life. I've been praying for years that God would break me of it, and I can see how he is using this to do precisely that -- lovingly trying to answer my request to be freed of this relentless pursuit of the illusion of control. He's inviting me to simple, joyful life of trust. The perspective shift is so freeing when I realize that I don't need to have it all figured out because he already does, and I can just rest in his loving guidance and look to him for the next step instead of trying to plan out every possible outcome and strategy. I went on a reflective retreat in the Santa Cruz mountains and just felt so encouraged and loved in the way he invited me to let my shoulders down and to ground myself in his warm provision and care.

But the change doesn't happen overnight.

So in the middle of a total storm of bipolar symptoms -- days of mania followed by days of depressive episodes and being so new at it all that I don't know how to navigate "normal life" with all of that -- I'm also trying to rewire 34 years' worth of the way I think and act. BUT it's a blessedly simple process: the only thing I have to worry about is this moment. I can't affect the future or the past. So all I have is right now, and I can turn to God for guidance, encouragement, insight, or anything I need in this moment, and he is so faithful to give it. But man, it's easy to forget. ;)

Literally me with that right now, trying to figure it all out on my own before I remember I can't and don't need to:

Anyway, this got LONG, surprise surprise, but I've always enjoyed being vulnerable for the sake of connection and potential encouragement. And selfishly, I'd LOVE to hear from any of you who may have had similar experiences. Right now the fixation of my [very limited] capacity is on my photography business, but I've been feeling drawn to writing more and more, and have attempted a lil drabble here and there. So I'm just patiently waiting for the inspiration to return. :)

I have so appreciated the love from you all. I also haven't been as active with reading/reblogging/supporting/etc as I was, and that's just where I'm at right now, but please know that my heart is with you even if my brain is not, LOL.

If you made it this far, you get a gold star. Or a Howzer hug. Or somethin. :)

[narnian-neverlander]

Reaching Out [Adam Warlock x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: The Sovereign are responsible for some of the biggest tragedies in your life. But when you meet one of them that just seems different, you find yourself reevaluating your stance and reaching out to him.

Word Count: 1,6k

Warnings: Guardians 3 spoilers, talk about canon typical violence

A/N: Haven’t written/posted sth in about… 5-6 years??? But of course Will Poulter being a literal and figurative golden boy is what gets me back to it 🤷

This was really just supposed to be a prelude to a scenario I actually wanted to write, but it kinda got away from me, so have it on it’s own

Best friend or not, when you’d come back from a mission of your own to learn that Rocket’s kleptomaniac tendencies had put you smack dab in the middle of a crossfire with the Sovereign, you’d had half a mind to stuff and mount him to a wall. You’d spent almost your entire life hiding from that nation and now you were back on their radar. After just barely escaping Ego and the Sovereign army by the skin of your teeth, you’d immediately started packing, ready to run and hide again; they would come for you, that hadn’t been a question of if, but when. And you would not put your newfound family at risk by staying with them.

Except… they’d refused to let you leave. Every last one of them. They’d sat you down and demanded an explanation at the very least, so you’d done just that. Told them about how the Sovereign had considered your people a threat, an abomination even, due to your shapeshifting abilities. About the destruction of your planet, your people and finally finding a temporary safe haven on the little mud-ball known as earth. It’d been quiet for a long moment after that, then Gamora had shrugged and with a very blunt ‘What’s one more target on our backs?’ the discussion was over and Drax was carrying your bags back to your room before you could utter a single word of protest. You would never admit it to any of them, but you’d cried yourself to sleep that night. People you could rely on, who’d risk their lives for you - you hadn’t had that in a very long time.

The memory of that day had been fresh on your mind when your retrieval mission at Orgocorp’s headquarters had gone sideways; severely outnumbered with the Sovereign and the High Evolutionary’s lackeys on their way, you’d gladly stayed behind to give your friends a clean escape. The fact that you’d ended up in the hands of the people you’d been hiding from your whole life didn’t matter if it meant giving the others a chance to save Rocket.

You’d only arrived on Knowhere to the aftermath of the attack of the Sovereign’s newest weapon, but whatever you’d been expecting hadn’t been… him. He was different from any Sovereign you’d ever come across. The golden-skinned race of people weren’t exactly known to be particularly individualistic or open-minded, but the Warlock constantly asked questions in such innocence and naivety, it was almost endearing - and frustrating to the High Priestess to no end. The incredulous bark of laughter that had escaped you when he’d flat out told her that he did not like how hurting people made him feel had earned you a few new bruises to the face from the annoyed woman, but it’d been worth it. There was something absolutely hysterical to you about their perfect super weapon apparently having just a bit too much of a mind of his own, only further proven when he’d openly opposed his mother and had insisted on keeping the Ravager’s pet as his companion.

And then he’d saved Peter. Unprompted, a choice all his own; maybe the very first of it’s kind he’d made. As baffling as it had been, you’d seen a lot during your travels of the universe, so maybe, just maybe, a Sovereign with a kind heart wasn’t completely unthinkable. So when you leave the cantina, tears still fresh in your eyes from having said goodbye to some of the people you called family, and find him sitting hunched over on a flight of stairs, dirty, bruised and looking so incredibly lost and alone, you decide to do the unthinkable yourself: you reach out.

There’s plenty of people buzzing about, already repairing the damage the battle did to Knowhere and helping the new arrivals settle in. You grab a blanket from one of them as you pass and weave your way through the crowd. He doesn’t even realize he’s your target until you drape the blanket over his shoulders, making him flinch in the process. Wide, surprised eyes follow your movements as you settle down next to him on the stairs, but he pulls the fabric tighter around himself anyways. There’s a beat of awkward silence during which you realize you hadn’t exactly thought this approach through in it’s entirety, but there is one thing that comes to mind that you decide to ask him about. “You know, between you trying to kill us, my best friend almost dying and some lunatic almost destroying our home… I don’t think I ever actually caught your name. It can’t just be the Warlock, can it?”

“Adam. My name is Adam.” he answers and you give an acknowledging nod as you hold out your hand to him. “Alright, it’s nice to kinda officially meet you, Adam. I’m (y/n).” He stares at your offered hand with furrowed brows and it occurs to you that in all likelihood, the guy has no idea what a handshake even is. “I’m fully aware of who you are; (y/n), the shifter.” Dropping your hand back into your lap, you honestly feel like backing off and just leaving him be. But you don’t. “Right… I’m sure Ayesha told you everything about me…” He seems to brighten at the mention of his mother, but it’s gone just as quickly and replaced by the same exhaustion he’s had in his eyes since you approached him. “She did. To help me with my mission, she gave me very detailed reports on all of you. But-“

Soft music playing from the speakers above you interrupts him and a light chuckle leaves your lips as you recognize the band as one of your favorites from earth; you catch Rocket’s eye from across the square and he gives you a grin and a wink, earning a shake of your head and a laugh in return. Bringing your attention back to the golden man beside you, you find his focus on the crowd and your friends, curiosity written all over his features, accompanied by a small, albeit sad smile. He’d quite obviously never seen a celebration before, had had no victories to celebrate. Hadn’t known the sacrifices that so often went hand in hand with triumph.

“But…?” you prompt gently and he brings his golden eyes back to you. He studies you for a long moment and you’re honestly not quite sure what exactly it is he’s looking for, but he seems to find it all the same. “But… I’m starting to think she was… mistaken about some of it. The things mother told me about the Guardians, specifically about you… don’t align with what I’ve seen for myself.” Humming thoughtfully, you start tapping your foot along to the song as the crowd starts letting loose and picking up pace. “Well… forming your own opinions, your own path? Admitting that not everything that you were taught is necessarily the right thing? That’s all part of growing up. Of becoming your own person. It’s a good thing.” He vehemently shakes his head at that. “It doesn’t feel good. My stomach hurts and it’s like I can’t breathe and I feel so… so…” He struggles to find the right words, but you know exactly what he’s talking about; you’ve been there yourself. “Small? Helpless? Despite your powers?” When he nods in affirmation, you continue. “What you’re feeling is fear. You’re scared. Scared about change, about the unknown that now lies in front of you. It’s perfectly normal, everybody gets scared sometimes.”

If possible, his shoulders slump further and he seems to curl into himself even more. In spite of his tall stature, he seems so incredibly small in that very moment and it makes your heart clench. “Everybody gets scared… I don’t have everybody to guide me, though. I do not have anyone left...” You don’t mean to, you truly don’t, but you can’t help the inelegant snort that escapes you at that; one that erupts into full blown laughter when he gives you a look that can only be described as somewhere between scandalized and actually hurt. “Please”, you manage between wheezes, “you really think we’re gonna save your life and then leave you to fend for yourself? Nah, you can stay here with us - only if you want, of course.” He blinks at you, once, twice, before he says “But… I tried to kill you?” His deadpan delivery makes you laugh yet again, even if it is the truth. “Yeah, we’ve all tried to do that to each other at one point or another, actually.” You find Nebula, gleefully dancing with some of the kids and a grin spreads across your face. “Some on more than one occasion. But here we are, one big, happy, messed up family.”

Adam still looks as puzzled as ever; why would you willingly form a family with people who’d tried to murder you? It’s obvious he’s overwhelmed with… everything, really, so you decide to drop the big, life changing conversation topics for now as you get up and dust yourself off. “Listen, all I’m saying is, you’ve got people here who are similar to you in some ways. Maybe sticking around and learning from them could help you. Either way, I think you’d fit in just fine around here, golden boy.” Big, hopeful, golden eyes follow your movements as you offer your hand to him yet again. “Come on, let’s go find you a place to rest up, okay?” There’s no confusion or hesitation this time as he takes your outstretched hand and let’s you pull him to his feet. Despite the state he’s in, he’s warm, you note, like a bunch of tiny golden suns are burning right under his skin. And as you tug him along behind you, through small alleys and groups of dancing people, he holds on tight and you decide you like how his hand feels in yours.

[12-seconds-to-live]

(Un)Lost: Half a heart

Pairing: F12022/3!Grid! x Fem!Driver!oc

Warnings: DNF’s, angst, a little bit of love, episodes of anxiety.

Lando P.O.V.

Charlotte Robyn-Jones, the girl I fall in love.

Some people say that I’m just a lucky guy. To be young, full of energy and to be chosen as a formula one driver for McLaren. But even being so talented doesn’t make you feel complete, even when you’re surrounded by people who tell you how good you are, how loved, how lonely.

By the end of the 2021 season, my attention of how the standings finished for formula two wasn’t important at that time, so when the news of the driver for Williams came as a surprised. Another girl, I thought, wrong, she’s something else. I kept myself quiet when she was around just waiting for her eyes to look at mine, knowing that at the end, her smiled always showed up.

Charlotte is beautiful, intelligent, polite and loved.

I always wanted to know if she feels the same as me when the attention is higher. Nobody can deny how well is she doing this year and what the future may bring to her, I hope something good.

When Carlos introduced me to her I was scared, I feel my cheeks red and my anxiety higher that ever, I wasn’t brave around her but the way her eyes light up when she met someone new, how she talked about her mother, how she always laughed with the boys, almost everything about her made me smile.

The day she was included in the groupchat with the drivers, I decided to text her, I was nervous but she was funny and tell me I was the first of the boys to talk to her. We looked for each other in the mornings and almost every night we spent talking about things outside our carreers.

I was falling in love

No.

I’m still falling.

The problem is me, scared of a non-existing future, but at the same time I know that she is the better half of me.

I looked for her every morning when we arrive at the paddock, hoping she would be sitting in the front of her hospitality waving to every person who said hello to her, cracking jokes with the mechanics as she ate her favourite snack.

Every place I walked into, I was looking for her, hoping she wouldn't be looking at me first as I was embarrassed, of not knowing how to express my emotions, let alone tell her.

I don’t even like coffee but she is like a warm cup of coffee in a cold morning, she'll make me shiver without warning, make me laugh as if I'm part of the pranks she was always into with Daniel or Pierre, she’s the full moon and I’m the stars, not outshaining her, no, I’m 

She was like a warm cup of coffee first thing morning, waking me up and setting me up for day, or like the first bite of my favourite meal that I always wanted to repeat.

Charlotte Robyn-Jones made me feel things I had never felt before.

She invited to spend a week with her dad and Carlos’s family in Mallorca. We spend the day doing many activities with the others, but when it was time to sleep, she sit next to me in my room’s balcony, sometimes in silent, she trying to teach me a bit of spanish or talking about whatever come to our minds, but in my mind was the feelings I have, pictures of us.

My last night with them I was brave and I went for the kiss.

Once she told me that she likes to go straight to the point, she hates waiting, she hates when you can’t tell her the truth, maybe she knew about me. I told her that she always looked beautiful when her eyes shine looking to the sky, how her green eyes seemed like almost change to a different shade. She looked at me with a smiled and told me that the sun made mine look like color olive with a small shade of yellow and she really liked it.

I took her hand and she asked if she can kissed me, I did it. My hands cupped her cheeks, her hands went to my back, like a hug, I didn’t want to let her go.

I learned too much about her, she feels lonely since her mom passed away. How she is still picking her broken pieces even when she is always smiling and trying to make everybody happy. She wanted to grow up into F1. She is scared of dying and left things to say. She hates to wake up in the cold mornings to go to the gym. She hates to feel uncapable to love and being loved.

“I’m not gonna leave you, I promise to love you. Teach eachother to love. I’m here whenever you need me even if I’m thousand miles from home”. 

“I finally see what it means to be complete”

And I kissed her again.

You're going to realize it one day- that happiness was never about your job or your degree or being in a re-lationship. Happiness was never about following in the footsteps of all of those who came before you; it was never about being like the others.

One day, you're going to see it--that happiness was always about the discovery, the hope, the listening to your heart and following it wherever it chose to go. Happiness was always about being kinder to yourself; it was always about embracing the person you were becoming.

One day, you will understand that happiness was always about learning how to live with yourself, that your happiness was never in the hands of others.

It was always about you. It was always about you.

📍London, UK

Liked by charlotterjones, carlossainz55, mclaren and 1.102.031 others

landonorris With you, I’m happy being me.

user1 THIS WASN’T ON MY BINGO CARD

user2 SOMEONE CHECK CARLOS

carlossainz55 glad to see you man up, cabrón

charlotterjones London or Madrid?

landonorris As long as I am by your side

user3 CHARLOTTE? OH MY

user4 Carlos and Lando are going to be real family fr

mclaren @/williamsracing now we are family

williamsracing  💙🧡

danielricciardo Charlando ❤️

maxverstappen1 you owe me 50

intro

part one

part two

Taglist: @evans-dejong @omgsuperstarg @bibissparkles @hoely-maria @mochimommy2002 @noope306 @eugene-emt-roe​ @80sloverry​ @rens-daylight @honeydanny​

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter one — new beginnings

WORD COUNT — 2,403

WARNINGS — none

NOTES — i'm legit sobbing i can't believe this series is already 2 years old

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

This morning was the last one you’d spend in your childhood home. After 17 years of memories, you were saying goodbye to the place you were overjoyed to call home. It wasn’t bad — that was something you were sure of — but it was upsetting. This place is where you came home after being born, where you spent birthdays and holidays and had almost all of your firsts in. You learned to walk here, to talk, to read. It was here that you decided you wanted to be a ballerina, only to decide you wanted to be a teacher just a week later. It’s where your mom lived, where you lived. And now, for a very good reason, you were giving it up. 

Your father was trading away his two-bedroom, floor to ceiling windowed, eleventh floor condo for a lovely blue suburban just a few hours away. No more big city, no more 10 hour shifts at the office. Finally, your dad was getting married.

His fiance, Maggie, was the most wonderful woman you’d ever met, and damn near perfect for him. Her sons, who look nearly identical to her, were the most well-mannered teenage boys you’d met. Thomas, her eldest, was the same age as you — give or take a few months — and one of your closest friends. 

Chuck was her youngest, and was turning 13 early next year. He was shy, but once he had warmed up to you, he became the funniest kid you’d ever talked to. He shared all of his interests with you, even if you didn’t know what he was talking about half of the time. 

Over the past three years, you’d had plenty of time to get used to Maggie and her sons, seeing as they’d spent every other weekend here in the city for the past year or so, so it wasn’t as though you were completely uprooting your life. You’d already seen them as family, and have for a while. Every time they came to town, you and Thomas would make the most of things, wandering the city for things to do or look at or buy until well after sundown, while Chuck normally spent his time with Maggie and your dad. 

You had no reason to be sad, and you weren’t. It was just nostalgia, rooted deep within your chest, of the few vital memories you had left of your mother that had all taken place in this condo. 

“I know this is hard for you, honey,” your father said as you carried your last box of items through the living room. 

“I’ll be okay dad, don’t worry.” You assured him with a childlike smile. “This is a good thing for us, you know? And I’ll have Thomas and Teresa to help me out, so I won’t be completely lonely and friendless.” 

Your father nodded, his lips pressed together tightly as he rested a hand on your shoulder. Whether he was comforting you or trying to comfort himself, you didn’t know. Still, he took the box from your arms and walked out the front door, leaving you to take one last look around the place that had once been your home before walking out yourself, closing the door and leaving that part of your life behind. 

Though the drive took nearly three hours, it felt like half an hour. Most of your time in the passenger seat of your father’s sleek black Camaro was spent messaging your best friends about how much you already missed them, and replying to other school friends to thank them for their well-wishes and promises to meet up soon, even though you knew it would never follow through. 

Traffic-jammed highways quickly turned into two-lane blacktop, surrounded by farmland and forest, which then faded into cookie-cutter homes and family-owned stores. It would be quite an adjustment compared to bodegas, high rises and packed streets, but you knew you had no choice. 

You’d been in this town quite a few times before, and the route to your new home was quite familiar, seeing as some weekends it would be you and your father making the trip instead of Maggie and her family. A left turn on the main road, right after the only cafe in town, then a right turn, then another left. 

Maggie’s house was tucked into the right corner of the cul-de-sac, and it still looked as charmingly beautiful as ever. With dark, gray-blue siding, a lovely white painted front porch capped with a shingled awning, and deep red brick supporting the foundation, it was like it was built straight out of a fairytale. The garage extension jutted out of the house, and its wall marked one end of the porch, while the other was supported by a bay window that looked into the kitchen. To the very left, a white-painted fence and gate led into the backyard that, while you couldn’t tell from the front, was fairly large, and decorated entirely by a beautiful garden, wicker furniture, and a light gray brick fire pit. 

The second the car was in park, you were hopping out of the vehicle, ready to pull your bags from the trunk and bring them to your new room. It had been the office/storage room for Thomas and Chuck, but Maggie cleared it out as soon as they told you that they were engaged. There was a room downstairs near Chuck’s that wasn’t being used, but it was isolated and therefore would be your father and Maggie’s shared office so that he can work entirely from home. 

In her last FaceTime a few days ago, Maggie showed you the room, already filled with the furniture you’d sent from New York weeks prior. One window inside faced the front of the house, and the other faced the side yard and part of the neighbors backyard. 

You pulled your duffle bag from the trunk just as the moving van that had been following you from the city parked on the street. Thomas and Maggie had stepped outside to help bring boxes in, and you greeted them both with short hugs and a wide smile before asking where Chuck was. 

“He’s inside,” Thomas rolled his eyes. “Been hiding in his room all day.” 

There wasn’t much heavy lifting to be done, since your bed, desk, dresser, and nightstand table had already been moved in, and the boxes contained mostly clothes, personal items, and whatever technology your dad needed to be brought with him. The rest was sold or given away, considering Maggie had a house full of stuff on her own. 

By mid-afternoon, boxes covered the floor and most other surfaces in your room, and you were elbow deep in a box of hangers and whatever clothing wouldn’t fit into your bags when Thomas poked his head in the door. 

“Having fun?” You could hear his mischievous smile in his words as he stepped inside. 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. Does untangling a mess of hangers and tank tops sound like fun to you?”

“Nope,” Thomas winced, crossing the room and dropping onto your bare mattress. “Glad you’re here, though.” 

“Me too,” you said, “I think.” 

Thomas lifted his head to look at you. “You think?”

“Well, I only know you and Teresa, and I’ve never had to deal with living someplace where everything closes at 7pm.”

“Everything does not close at 7pm,” he scoffed. “The diner doesn’t close until 10pm, and the convenience store closes at 8.”

“Oh, wow, a whole extra hour for the convenience store,” you mocked the boy, who scoffed once more at you. “My point is, I have a lot to get used to, and it’s not exactly like I can say  I don’t like it here and everything goes back to the way it was.” 

Thomas sat up. “You’ll be fine, I swear. You’ve got me and Teresa, plus you’ll be meeting our friends in a few days.”

You only nodded, working through the mess of clothes and hangers as Thomas fell silent for a few moments, typing on his phone for a bit. 

“Do you wanna do something with me and Teresa?” He asked as you began putting the hangers into your closet. 

You immediately perked up at the mention of Teresa. “Of course I would. I haven’t seen her in months,” you said, “Why? What does she want to do?”

“We’ll probably take you to the cafe, or go to hers for a movie night,” Thomas said. “There’s not much to do around here.” 

“That’s fine,” you shrugged, “I’ll be fine with whatever, you know that.”

Thomas made a quick noise of acknowledgement and returned to typing on his phone, before getting up and walking past you toward the door. “Alright, well she’s down. I’ll come get you in like a few hours, maybe.”

“Oh-” you started, looking at Thomas as he left the room. “Okay, then,”

You continued to untangle and pack away your clothes, mind wandering to almost any thought that crossed your mind. Shortly after Thomas’ departure, though, a knock sounded at your bedroom door before opening. In the doorway stood Chuck, silently observing the room now that you had begun to move into it. 

“Chuckie!” It was his least favorite nickname by far, especially when Thomas used it on him, but you couldn’t help yourself. To you, he’d always be 9 years old, hiding behind his mother’s leg in your condo’s living room. 

You stopped what you were doing as he stepped into the room, meeting you by the bed to greet you with a wordless hug. He ended up helping you out with the hangers, talking adamantly with you about how his friends were spending the night next weekend to watch  Star Wars with him, and how now he and your dad could do more stuff together since he wouldn’t have to wait for the weekends to see him anymore. 

After the box full of hangers was organized and put away, Chuck left and took the broken down box with him. You opened the one you’d put all of your knick knacks and other items in, beginning to organize them around the room when you pulled out your favorite mug, wrapped delicately in layers of bubble wrap and newspaper. 

You decided to take it down to the kitchen immediately, peeling the layers from it as you headed back downstairs. It was a gift from your grandmother, a white mug with a black handle, a silhouette of a ballerina painted onto one side. She gave it to you when you were nine, a tribute to your mother, who used to be a ballerina herself. 

You found a space for it on the bottom shelf of the cupboard of mugs, smiling gently at it. Somehow, this was what cemented the fact that you were in a new home. That you’d gone through a positive change for once. For the most part, the life you used to live was long gone, and you had much more to look forward to, despite how terrified you were.

The next couple of hours included you dressing your bed in its sheets and pillows and blankets, plus rearranging and re-organizing things in your room. It was a little small, sure, but you didn’t mind, as everything fit perfectly. Now, all you were doing was waiting for Thomas to get you to bring you to Teresa’s house.

When he finally did, the sun was beginning to set and Maggie was helping your dad organize his DVDs in the entertainment center under the TV. They muttered quick goodbyes as you headed out the door, hopping into Thomas’ old truck and heading to Teresa’s house. 

You arrived at the familiar white-siding home in no time, and you already had Teresa in your line of sight before you had closed the door to the truck. You both ran for one another, crashing into one another in an excited, bone-crushing hug in the walkway to her front porch. 

“Jeez, why don’t you greet me like that, babe?” Thomas said, casually walking up the pathway. 

Teresa pulled back a bit, glaring over your shoulder. “Because I see you every day, Thomas. I haven’t seen N/n since June.”

“That shouldn’t matter,” Thomas muttered under his breath, obviously defeated as a pout formed on his face. 

You and Teresa laughed before the brunette girl spoke up, grabbing your hand. “Come on, I’ve got everything set up inside. Movies, snacks, and I ordered pizza from the takeout place across town. I wanna hear everything I’ve missed out on since I saw you last.” 

Thomas trailed behind you as Teresa led you inside her home, despite knowing you’d been there quite often over the years. 

You spent over four hours at Teresa’s house. By the time you were pulling back into the driveway, the entire town had gone quiet, lights turned out as everyone wound down for the night or were already asleep. 

The first hour of your time was spent catching Teresa up on anything interesting that had happened in New York, then she and Thomas did the same for you. They also took the time to explain the school and how things worked in a small town as best as they could, but you quickly decided you’d just learn as things went on. You managed to watch two movies, devouring whatever food Teresa had set out for the three of you relatively quickly. 

Once you stepped inside, it was quite clear that everyone else in the house was already asleep. You and Thomas managed to sneak upstairs without waking anyone, bidding one another a quick ‘goodnight’ before heading to your own rooms. 

Soon after, you found yourself in an oversized fundraiser shirt your dad got from a work trip to Arizona years ago, laying in bed as your eyes scanned and took in every inch of your room. Thinking over every detail, about how different it felt, how this new space held every aspect of you and your life up until this moment. And as you thought, you felt your heart grow and swell within your chest, getting lighter and lighter. 

This town, these people, had yet to prove themselves to you, to show you if you belonged or not, and you were eager to see it all, to experience everything it had to offer. All you had to do was give it a chance.

series masterlist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine (open!)

[dreaminrainbows]

✨Masterpost✨

Perfect now

"Sweetheart" he says softly, always so soft. He moves the hand that was scratching Harry's scalp to his jaw, cupping his cheek "i want to tell you something i never have before." This gets Harry's attention as he moves to rest his chin on top of his hand on his chest, looking at him with tired, heavy eyes. Louis smiles softly at him as he starts to slowly caress his cheekbone and the thin skin under his eye." Or Harry sometimes has bad days, but Louis is always there to make it better

It's just us (in this world)

Harry expected many things when he moved to London for university. He expected wild parties, to study hard and get his diploma, to meet a couple of cute alphas to have some fun with. Harry genuinely expected to experience life to its fullest. What he didn't really expect was to meet Louis. Or Harry is happy with how his life turned out, he really is, he's just not happy that their unborn baby likes to keep him up at night. Louis is always there to keep him company and take care of him

Can't keep my hands to myself

Louis has new tattoos, Harry breaks the rules. Or Louis teaches his baby a lesson, but not really

For you i would lose my mind

He’s been waiting, hasn’t he, waiting and waiting, on the other side of the world while his man, his husband, his Daddy, not theirs, was throwing himself at fans every night. Letting them touch him, choke him, rip his clothes off of him like Harry doesn’t exist. Like Harry hasn’t spent a better part of the last twelve years of his life mapping Louis’ body, learning him and knowing him better than he knows himself, better than he will ever know himself. Like Harry hasn’t spent half of his life learning what Louis likes and what he dislikes, what gives him pleasure and what doesn’t, where to touch him and how to touch him, how to give him everything. Like Harry doesn't live and breathe Louis Tomlinson, like he hasn't spent every second of every day trying to be the best baby for him. Like every single fibre in his body doesn't scream Louis' name every time he so much as glances at him. Like Louis’ isn't his and his only. or Louis is a total menace on stage and Harry has had enough of it

Just let me adore you (pretty please)

"I think you are quite lovely, pup." Louis shrugs his shoulders, he shrugs like it's no big deal, "And quite pretty, may I add." "You…y-you do?" Harry asks bewildered. No, no, this cannot be real. Surely this is not real. He probably fell or dropped and hit his head and now he's lying in some ditch on the verge of dying and this is just his oxygen-hungry brain showing him his wildest dream before completely shutting down. Or Harry is convinced he'll never have a chance with Louis, Louis thinks Harry doesn't like him, all it takes is one bad party to realise how wrong they both were

I'll drive all night to keep you warm

Louis is hastily trying to put on his boots and the stupid laces just don’t want to fucking work. Maybe it is the fact that he is in a hurry and they can probably smell it on him or maybe it’s the fact that his hands haven’t stopped trembling since Niall called him, to tell him he’s lost Harry. Because Niall has lost Harry!! Harry is a whole Harry- tall, gorgeous, beautiful, the sweetest Omega Louis has ever known- Harry, and Niall has lost him. Niall had called him in panic, because when one loses their friend at a party they do definitely call said lost friend’s best friend knowing damn well that said best friend’s Alpha has been under the impression for the past year that said lost Omega is his (minor details), to go and find said lost friend because he couldn’t find him anywhere at the party nor his coat, but can’t be arsed to go out looking for him himself.

Flowers for your crown

Louis places a kiss on Harry's sternum before laying his head there, looking up at his Omega whose fingers are playing softly with his hair. "Are you thinking about pups again?" Harry asks him softly, smiling down at him. "You have your pup face on." Harry giggles as an answer to his raised eyebrow. His pup face probably means a dopey smile and crinkles by his eyes that he usually sports every time he thinks about their future children. "Can you imagine?" He tells Harry with wonder in his voice, "you'll be all swollen and big and gorgeous carrying our pup, the most beautiful Omega," he daydreams, imagining Harry pregnant, "and then we'll have our little angel with your eyes and my nose." He can already picture it, a little bundle of joy created by them. "Soon, Alpha." Harry tells him the way he usually does, but there is a new layer of softness in his eyes and the way he smiles at Louis, like maybe this time he believes it too. *** Or Harry has a little secret that is not really a secret and Louis is oblivious.

You are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad)

It's not Harry's fault Cheekbones is drop-dead gorgeous and Harry feels like he would literally drop dead if Cheekbones looked at him with his ice blue eyes for more than the minute it takes to order. Or Louis is a hot bartender and Harry is pathetically obsessed with him

This is our place (we make the call)

“Lou, Lou,” Louis is woken up by a soft poke into his shoulder and an even softer sounding voice. It takes him a few minutes for his brain to actually start functioning again. “Haz,” he grunts, groaning as he lifts his head from the pillow he was drooling on just now. He turns around sluggishly to lay on his back instead of his stomach to look up at his boyfriend who's standing next to their bed. The lamp in the hallway shines enough light into the room for him to see Harry standing in his pink satin short PJs, pigeon-toed, his knees locked and his toes digging into the carpet nervously. He's looking down, pinching his lower lip with the thumb and index finger of his right hand and hugging himself with the left, shiny chestnut shoulder length curls falling around his face, almost hiding it.

I'm trouble with you

“Harry,” Louis says in a soft voice, ”in less than a year you'll probably move out and I need to know now, I need to know tonight if I'm going to lose you forever. I'm done guessing!” He says demanding, but soft, his voice low and almost trembling. Harry's whole body is shaking. All of the feelings he tried to bury with studying, alcohol and weed, or sex are coming to the surface now and he can't deal with that. Can't deal with Louis sounding like he is actually afraid Harry is not going to be in his life. Because if Louis is afraid of losing Harry it means that he cares and Harry cannot deal with Louis caring. Every single illusion he's built in his mind of painting Louis as the bad guy will crash down along with all his resolve and walls and he cannot (!) have that. or the friends to enemies to lovers aka idiots to lovers aka they just don't talk until they FINALLY do

Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you

The arrestee stops squirming around as both Liam and Niall look up at him like deers caught in a headlight. Their frightened looks almost makes him laugh but he does his best to keep his composure neutral if not a bit annoyed. The arrestee, whose face was obscured by their long hair, lifts their head tossing their hair back from their face, a sly smirk plastered on their face upon locking eyes with Louis. “Sheriff,” Harry purrs as he sees Louis standing in front of his office, hands akimbo, “please tell those buffoons to unhand me immediately,” he asks, fluttering his lashes towards him like any of his tricks have ever worked on Louis. They have, all of them, but he's not about to show that in front of all his personnel.

I just wanna be yours (wanna be yours, wanna be yours)

Harry studies his sixteen year old self’s face for a long moment and it's truly pathetic how in fourteen years nothing has really changed. He's had enormous success throughout the years, has a couple of Grammys to prove it, yet he'd still be Louis Tomlinson’s vacuum cleaner in a blink of an eye. Louis does like his coffee hot and Harry would gladly be his coffee pot. He groans again, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He's been trying to get a grip on himself for the past fourteen years, the only grip he's gotten is on his man.

[blank-house]

usually i just lurk in fandoms and read the answers to other people's asks, but i litr can't hold back anymore. THE STAT RAISING SYSTEM HELLOOO???? i was already obsessed and now this too? how exactly does it work, like if i’m spring but then choose a lot of composed options, do i become winter at some point, or do i do a mix of spring and winter behaviours + will there be any sort of indicator in the game of which stats you’ve raised like a pop up/menu where you can see your 4c/li stats? tysm!!

AH YAYYY SOMEONE'S EXCITED FOR THE STAT RAISING WOO! I'm so glad you asked because I had spent the better half of December last year thinking about it. And now I can finally ramble about this lol

But yes stats! There would be an indicator made so you can easily track the 4C's and the LI affections. As for how the the attribute points work, you won't get to change your season once it's been assigned (it would be, realistically speaking, weird if we make your behavior and speech switch after establishing that this is how you would normally act) but we do make it a point to clock whatever attribute is your highest stat.

So when you start a new game, besides establishing how an MC would act, we also assign you a set of starter points based on your season. For example, if you get Fall then you have a high amount of Compassion, medium amount of Charm and Composure, and a low amount of Confidence. Other seasons would get a similarly mixed bag of these attributes.

As you progress through the game and acquire points from your choices, the balance could start to shift in what is then considered to be your highest attribute, but since you don't get to change seasons again you would just be a more Charming Fall or a Confident Fall instead and the cast will recognize this change in MC.

So if you happened to be a Summer MC that suddenly grew more composed and less confident, you might have a cast member pull you aside to ask you if something's wrong. In a similar vein, if you're a Fall MC that shot up in confidence, they would muse over your new spunk.

Let me actually grab a bit of text from the end of the extended spring demo as an example. (Scroll past the blue text if you'd rather not be spoiled of any content even if it's a blurb).

If confidence is the highest stat: If Spring: mc “Oh, sweet, sweet, Cam. Frequency doesn’t dictate camaraderie. If they show up, then they show up. No need to invite them.” Deja chuckled from above you. de “Flashing your fangs, [name]? Where’s the usual sugar?” From where you laid, you grinned, bearing your proverbial weapons. Being straightforward wasn't usually in your books but you learned to take a page from your roommate. mc “I'm simply saying, the world’s not over if they're a no show, no?” If Summer: mc “Eh, who cares?” Cameron pouted, now completely tugging at their hoodie's drawstrings. ca “I know you like to speak your mind, but damn— harsh.” mc “I mean they’re good people but you don’t gotta twist yourself into a knot just because they’re not here.” mc “Who needs them, right!” de “No holds barred as always.” You shrug yourself, lips pulling back into your trademark grin. If Fall: mc “I mean… just because we’ve been in each other’s company doesn’t mean we’d all be friends.” Silence. Cameron and Deja offered you varying degrees of astonishment. You pursed your lips from their reaction, knowing full well what must be running through their head. And oddly enough, you didn’t feel guilty about it. Slowly, a smirk curled on Deja’s lips. de “Someone missed their daily dose of compassion this morning.” You scrunch your nose, fingers brushing against one of her braids as you swat it from your vision. mc "I'm okay if they're not here but if you want them to be, Cam, of course you're welcome to send them a text.” If Winter: mc “We don’t always have to invite them everywhere, you know.” ca “I mean, yeahhh, sure. But like, they’ve grown on me. Didn’t they on you?” mc “Ehh.” Your lackluster reply had Deja snickering. de “You never cared to say no before. Did one of them hit a nerve?” You rolled your eyes. mc “No. I’m just saying—” de “And that’s the thing, you. Saying something. Did you finally discover you have a voice?” You leveled her an unamused look but she only laughed harder.

It's the same scenario regardless, but because some of the seasons are less inclined to say something out loud, it's more realistic if your friends realize this change and react based on that.

That being said, we won't check for these changes often, since it's more obvious that you've changed after enough time has passed.

And other than these narration differences, attributes also have a hand at how a choice might unfold-- kind of like a DND check, if you have enough composure then you can successfully lie about this thing and if not you'd get caught. Or if you have enough compassion then the cast might feel inclined to let you in on a secret earlier etc, etc.

The attributes play an important role in the game, but like I said in a previous ask regarding the seasons-- please don't get hung up on attributes! They're more for story purposes and they won't have advantages or disadvantages when it comes to the romantic routes. I just think they'll add a wonderful layer to the immersion. ^^

~*~*~*~

Let me know if this is still confusing and I'll do my best to clarify again otherwise thank you for the ask!