#i had something in mind for the 20th one not the 19th

[f1shart]

brandi looking pitiful while skip broke presumably shakes his ass

this image broke me

[caesium-55]

—everything is orange. [ iv ]

pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader

summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.

note: omg im so sorry for not being online lately. i got a writing part time job now so... i may not be as active as before. hope yall are having a great day! not edited. not beta read.

masterlist.

Everything inside your studio is gray. The walls, the couch, the floor, the instruments. It's the kind of room that will make a sad beige mom over the moon.

But when you open the door and the sight of one Lando Norris greets you, looking devilishly handsome in his dark blue button up shirt and black pants and Nike sneakers with his curls concealed underneath his dark blue bucket hat, the studio suddenly doesn't feel as gray as it usually is.

“Lando?” Your brows rise towards your hairline. Truthfully, he’s one of the last people you expected to see inside HAN Ent’s building, much less outside your studio.

“Hi,” he smiles charmingly at the shock in your voice, showing all teeth and smile lines. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You stammer, still not over your shock, “S-Sure.”

You step aside to grant him space and allow him to enter your magic shop. Lando’s eyes curiously roam around the studio and you close the door behind him, nudging the houseplant further to the wall using your foot to avoid getting tripped on it in the future.

“Take a seat. Please,” you invite, gesturing towards the couch. Lando takes the invitation and sits down. He looks too big on the couch, you note. He has long legs and an athletic build. Perhaps, it’s time to buy a bigger one.

“Nice place,” he compliments.

You want to snort out loud but refrain yourself from doing so.

Lando is saying things out of politeness.

Your studio is shit.

You know that.

It used to be a stock room that was converted into a studio when Yoon PD-nim offered you that deal, that's why the room is graciously small. They soundproofed the walls, painted everything gray, shoved in a few pieces of recording equipment and called it a day.

It's still quite nice of Lando to compliment the place though. You might hate this place but this is your wizard’s tower, your witch’s hut, your magic shop, and you feel pride swell in your chest when someone thinks your little corner is cool, even if you think he’s lying.

“Thanks,” you say sincerely. “How did you know I was…”

“I asked Jinnie,” he says simply.

“Ah,” your tone falls flat.

A moment's pause.

“So this is where you’ve been working?”

You nod. Suddenly, you feel conscious.

Your studio isn't really in the best state right now. When you work in a creative fever, you tend to make a mess. Being messy enhances your creativity. The sprawled papers with lyrics, the empty styro cups of coffee lying around, numerous pens and pencils (you don't even know why you feel the need to bring a lot of them) and rubber erasers, and your snacks. There's a mountain of crumpled paper in your trash can.

“Sorry, the place isn't really….” you trail off, making vague gestures with your hand. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“It's okay,” he chuckles. “I called, you know. And texted. You didn’t return any of it.”

“Oh, my phone’s charging,” you say, beginning to feel bad that you accidentally ignored him. “And my notifs are silent.”

“That explains it.”

“Shouldn't you be resting?” you asked. “You have a flight tomorrow.”

It's currently the 19th. Lando is set to leave for Japan on the 20th. His team wants him in Suzuka by September 20 and not later than that. They already had a field day when Lando announced that he's flying with you. At first, he wanted it to be just you and him. His team wouldn't let him because he can be a PR nightmare if given enough freedom so they let his manager, Kyla, tag along.

You’ve mistaken Kyla as a member of the PR team. Turns out she’s his manager.

“Is it a sin to want to spend a few hours with my girlfriend before I go?” he flutters his eyes innocently. You snorted.

“Fake but okay.”

“I’m being sincere here, girlfriend,” he pushes his lips into a pout. “Did you eat already?”

“No,” you answer.

“Should we grab something together?”

“Should we?” you humor his suggestion. It's been a few hours since you’ve eaten. You’ve skipped both breakfast and lunch.

“I think I can call a restaurant and make a reservation.”

“It's near midnight,” you point out, glancing down at the Rolex decorating his wrist. Isn't he aware of how late it is?

“So?”

“Restaurants are closed by now,” you state.

Lando shrugs.

“I can make the effort of finding those seafood pasta you like.”

Your brows furrow.

“What do you mean like? I never said I like those.”

“But I thought…” Lando blinks. “I’ve read it somewhere…”

“Huh?”

“You're from Jeju, right? You grew up eating seafood so you like seafood and you once said you have a palate for Italian food. I tried…liking the pasta with seafood. I hated it but I ate it anyway.”

Your jaw hangs open at the revelation.

This is single-handedly the sweetest thing someone has ever done to you.

You don't know whether to be touched about the sincerity or to cry because of his idiocy. You can definitely do both but you refuse to do both. You have an image to maintain.

“Didn't I tell you that the company manipulated my public information?” you ask incredulously. “Yes, I was from Jeju but I didn’t eat seafood much. I have a mild allergy—”

“In seafood?” you see his eyes widen into saucers. Oops, you shouldn't have said that. “Wait, you had an allergy attack, didn't you? On those lunch dates we had? Why didn't you tell me so early on?”

“I thought you liked it!” your voice raises slightly, panicked. You're caught. He isn't supposed to know about this.

“I didn't?! I loathe seafood but I ate a few bites because I thought you liked it!”

You blink at him. That is the sweetest while simultaneously the most stupid thing someone has ever done for you. You drag a hand across your face, a groan escaping your mouth and yet you’re smiling. You shake your head at him.

Points for Lando Norris for making you capable of feeling frustrated and another feeling you cannot name.

“We’re idiots.”

There is a stretch of silence before Lando speaks up.

“What do you want to eat? And please tell me the real one.”

You began listing the first three things that appeared inside your brain, “I like…. ramyeon, natto, and tteokbokki.”

You have a palate for convenience store food. Food that you can find in busy night markets. Food that is sold by street vendors. The kind of food that tastes like absolute shit if cold but tastes like home if microwaved into the right amount of temperature. If you venture in your imagination hard enough, you can taste your mother’s cooking after a few bites. But you don't tell Lando that.

“We can eat that.”

You raise a brow.

“The ramen, the chicken, and the tteokdokdok.”

“Tteokbokki,” you correct him gently.

“Tteoktokki,” he repeats.

“Tteok.”

“Tteok.”

“Bokki.”

“Bokki.”

“Tteokbokki.”

“Tteokdokki.”

You shake your head, “Tteok-Bo-Kki.”

“Tteok-Bo-Kki.”

You snap your fingers, nodding in approval, “Better.”

“I literally said the same thing.”

“You didn't.”

“Where will we eat this tteokbokki?” He says the tteokbokki slowly, careful with his pronunciation.

“There are night markets nearby,” you tell him. “It’s crowded though. I know a good convenience store that’s a good drive away. It’s usually empty. Do you go to convenience stores?”

You suddenly feel stupid for asking.

Do multi-millionaires like Lando Norris go to convenience stores? It’ll make much more sense if he books restaurants or employs a private chef to cook for him at home. Do they even have a palate for instant food? What do rich people snack on? You don't know. You're not rich. Even after becoming famous, you’re still not rich enough to live the life of luxury.

This just highlights the difference of the worlds you and Lando live in.

“I do. Just not frequently,” he shrugs. “We can go to the convenience store if you want. I don't mind.”

“No, it’s fine. We can eat anywhere you want. Jinnie might have a few hotel restaurants in mind.”

“But do you want to eat in hotel restaurants?”

His question makes you pause and Lando immediately takes your hesitation as a no.

“We can eat anything you want to eat. This is your place anyway. Show me around.”

You bite your lower lip as you contemplate. Should you or should you not? That is the question.

When your eyes drag themselves back to Lando’s face, you see that he’s already looking at you intently as he awaits your answer patiently. You want to shrink back at the intensity of his gaze.

“Well then, do you want to go on a convenience store date with me, boyfriend?”

Despite the hesitation he’s displayed earlier, Lando grins at your offer.

You take Lando to your favorite place in all of South Korea. Google Maps says it's a three hour drive away. You arrive there in two hours and a half.

Maybe it's a sign to change careers.

You used your Jeep Wrangler. Lando offered to drive but you shook your head and hopped on the driver’s seat, him taking the passenger seat.

You won't allow anyone to drive your car. It's a rule of yours.

The last time you allowed someone to drive your car, your Hyundai jumped over a sewage canal. Lando might be a professional race car driver and that alone spoke multitudes of his driving skills, but you're so traumatized with the incident with your Hyundai that you physically can't allow anyone, professional driver or not, to handle the steering wheel of any other cars you own.

Cars are expensive. You can't buy another car. You’ll bawl when you see the money departing your bank account.

You palm the steering-wheel with your right hand. Your left hand lays flat on the back of the passenger seat, behind Lando’s head. Your upper body is rotated towards the back, full focus activated as you reverse the car in expert ease. Lando is observing you, you can tell. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your side profile.

“You okay?” You ask Lando. The man has gone uncharacteristically silent when you’ve started reversing the car. You hear Lando let out a breath. Almost shakily. You cannot tell for sure.

“Yeah,” his voice breaks like a boy undergoing puberty and you have to thin your lips into a line to prevent yourself from laughing. “Nice parking skills.”

“Thanks,” you say nonchalantly. “You sure you're okay though?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he rubs his throat. “I think the seatbelt’s a little too tight.”

Once the car’s perfectly parked, you kill the engine and exit the car. Lando follows suit.

“I don't know why you have to drive for almost three hours just to visit this place,” Lando gestures to the surroundings. “There's nothing here.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Come on, boyfriend.”

You pat his shoulder and lead the way. A bell chimes loudly as you push the door open. You step inside, the British racer only a few steps behind you. You tug down your mask.

“What's this place?” Lando questions.

“24-hour convenience store,” you answer. “But no staff.”

“No staff?” he asks. “So self service?”

“Ah yes, that’s the word. Self service,” You say. “Quite nice, right? We have complete privacy and good food. Two best things in the world.”

“Careful. Your introvert is showing.”

You snort, “First time coming to a place like this?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “No staff? Does nobody attempt to steal things?”

You shrug, “Probably not. Ramen is not worth going to jail for.”

“This shop will make a million dollar loss in an hour if it's in another country,” Lando says, his nose wrinkling. “Like in the UK or US or something.”

You beckon Lando to follow you through the aisles, “This way.”

“You even memorize the places of things,” he comments. “You come here often?”

You hum a yes. You stop in front of the freezer and open it, pulling out two plastic cups.

Lando’s forehead creases, “Just ice?”

“This is an ice cup,” you explain.

“Are we going to wait for the ice to melt before drinking it or….”

You stare at him incredulously before promptly bursting out in laughter.

“What's funny?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“Nothing, sorry,” you clear your throat. You don't know why you find that funny. Your humor is broken. “They sell pouches of juice or coffee and you pour it into the cup.”

Lando’s head tilts. He looks like a confused baby owl.

“Here, I’ll show you,” you walk up to a nearby shelf and grab a Kuromi pouch. It's peach-flavored. “This. You pour it here.”

You gesture to the ice cup. Lando’s mouth forms a circle in realization.

“Cool.”

“There are a lot of flavors,” you add, gesturing to the shelf. “Peach, apple, mango, strawberry, orange…”

You read out the flavors for Lando because you know he can't read Hangul. Lando wordlessly picks a grapefruit-flavored pouch. You nod.

“Good choice. Oh wait, we forgot to get a basket. Can you?”

Lando nods and leaves. When he comes back, now with a yellow basket, the two of you continue to browse down the entire store. You explain each of the food. He said no to most of them. Lando is a picky eater, you learn.

The two of you fill the basket near to the brim. You pay for each item, even though Lando insisted that he do it, and you occupy the table that faces that floor-to-ceiling glass window, overlooking the darkness of the night outside.

“Here,” you hand him a plastic fork. Lando accepts it, his brows furrowed. “You were struggling with the chopsticks.”

A shy smile makes its way to his face, “Sorry.”

You wave your hand as if to say it's no problem and plop down on the chair beside him. Lando digs in with his Buldak Samyang carbonara while you stir your Yoppoki Tteokbokki with yours before taking your first bite. You immediately let out a moan of pleasure.

“Is it delicious?” he asked.

“Very.”

You eat until your cheeks fill, chewing slowly.

“Oh wait, you should post something.”

“Now?”

“You took pictures of me earlier, right?” you know he did. He tried to be slick about it but you’d know if someone is taking a picture of you. “Put it on your story.”

“And delete it?”

“No. The world already knows we're dating anyway. Well, fake dating.”

Lando pulls out his phone and shows you the pictures in his gallery. There are aare a total of four pictures. Three are blurry. The other one is blocked by his finger.

“That one is good.”

“What do you mean good? It's blurry.”

“Blurry is an aesthetic.”

Lando shakes his head but opens his Instagram and begins to edit the photo you’ve chosen, “Help me with the caption?”

“I’m not good with them.”

“Me neither.”

“Your first caption was pretty good.”

“You think so?” he sounds hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders.

“Just say something like ‘her’ then put a period.”

That's the limit of your creative powers for the day.

Lando nods and begins typing. He’s typing quite long for a word with three letters and a single punctuation mark. He shows you the caption.

Your brows furrow.

He laughs, “I’m funny.”

“You’re really not,” you shake your head. “Put it in your drafts.”

“So I’m not posting it now?”

“You post it after we leave the place,” you say. “So we’ll be gone by the time the fans see it and decide they’ll come here.”

“That's very smart.”

“That's not being smart. That’s just common sense,” you state flatly.

“You know, I always thought you'd be a cold person.”

You raise a brow, not entirely sure if you're understanding him correctly. Cold is an adjective. It's used to describe temperature. You're uncertain if it can be applied to use as an adjective to describe a person.

Lando must have sensed your confusion that he adds, “Ice queen.”

Oh.

Yeah.

Okay. You understand it now.

“You used to look so cold and cool,” Lando says. “Ice queen. But also an IDGAF attitude. Very intimidating.”

You have no idea what IDGAF means but you nod your head and act like you understand him anyway. You make a mental note to search it up on the internet later.

“But you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you echo.

“You’re actually pretty sweet,” he adds.

“I’m trying to be kind.”

“You don't have to try. You already are.”

“The companies make us act sometimes.”

“What?”

“Like, before debut,” you begin. “There are companies that assign certain images to their idols. They give them parts to play like directors do to actors in movies. Like, oh, you look like this kind of person so you have to act like this kind of person. They take a look at your visuals and decide what role you’ll have. They took one look at my face and told me that I have to be a strict and serious person who is scary and cold and unbothered. I didn't want to do it because I tend to smile really easily before and I just wanted to have a lot of friends, you know?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“When you’re intimidating, you tend to not have a lot of them. Despite that, I followed the role. Many praised me for it and others just….well, they didn't like it. The company was happy, though. They told me I was good at acting. But it's just…sad that the person I am on the screen is not real.”

“Yeah, that's honestly sad. I can't imagine doing that for my team. I’ll suck at it. Imagine me cold and serious,” Lando makes a serious face but he ends up doing a The Rock Smoulder. You have to stop yourself from laughing out loud by thinning your lips and twisting it.

“You're doing it, though. For the team. This whole fake dating thing,” you gesture to yourselves.

Lando mutters something under his breath while stroking his chin. You don't catch it.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. I think your eyes are pretty.”

He's changing the subject. He does it so swiftly, too.

“I know, I thank my mother every day for it,” you joke and Lando chuckles softly. “But don't be jealous, you have pretty eyes yourself.”

He turns into a lovely shade of pink. You can see it. You don't speak of it.

“It changes colors sometimes,” you continue, pointing at your eyes. “Like, it’s kind of gray in the dark. But if the sun shines on it, it has three colors.”

“You stare at my eyes a lot, do you?”

“Well, if a certain thing is pretty, you can't help but stare, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess that's why I stare at you a lot, too.”

You laugh, the sound airy, shaking your head. What a flirt. The cute kind.

“I’m quite the head turner, aren't I?”

“You are,” he agrees seriously.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smirks, confident.

“Careful, you might fall for me, fake girlfriend,” he says cheekily. You have the desire to shatter his ego so you did.

“You're handsome but you're not my type.”

His smirk falters. You give a chortle.

“What's your type then?” he asks, leaning slightly forward. His eyes reflect anticipation.

You fall into a momentary thoughtful silence, “For starters, attractive men who can drive very fast cars. With a racing license this time. Not like me.”

Lando smiles at your light attempt at a joke. Good to know that he finds the dark humor surrounding your career-ending scandal funny.

“I am an attractive man,” he gestures to his face. “With a priceless face and I drive a very fast car. Formula one or sports cars. Oh and would you look at that? I have a racing license and a regular driving license.”

“You are an attractive man,” you agree. “But again, not my type.”

Lando dramatically puts his hand against his chest, right above where his heart lies and acts like you just shot him dead on the spot.

“Hmm, what else? Ah, plays golf,” you list another trait of your ideal man.

“I play golf,” he crosses his arms, leans back against the back of his seat, and lifts his hips a little as he adjusts his sitting position on the chair, manspreading a little. This is one of the subtle things men do that women cannot help but find attractive. You’re also a woman. Of course, you find that attractive.

You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. Lando laughs at you.

“A few years older than me.”

When Lando opens his mouth, you cut him off, holding up a finger, “I’m older than you.”

By months only but still.

“In the standards of your fake birthday, I am older than you.”

You huff, shaking your head. He is right, to some degree. The world thinks he is older than you because HAN Entertainment decided to lie about your birthday.

“Looks good in red.”

“You know, orange is a mixture of red and yellow. Technically, it's still red. So I look good in red. One plus one equals two. I am connecting shit.”

He raises two index fingers in the air and connects them together to put further emphasis on the words he imparted in a sage-like manner.

“You're not connecting anything.”

“Hell yeah, I am. I am so smart, I should just be McLaren’s chief strategist. Maybe then I can finally get my first win.”

You cannot help but raise an amused brow.

“Fine, if you're so smart Mr. Strategist, what's plan A to your victory?”

His answer comes immediately, no hesitation and he utters it with so much confidence in his chest: “Sneak into Red Bull and steal their car.”

You abruptly burst out laughing, the sound filling up the entire convenience store. You cannot hold it in anymore. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself down.

You don't laugh pretty. You're very much aware of that. You sound like a dolphin when you do. But Lando is so funny that you forget to feel conscious of the weird sound that leaves your mouth for a whole five seconds before you remember to compose yourself and stop.

“You don't have to cover your mouth when you laugh, you know?” he says. “Or try to stop yourself from laughing. Just laugh if you want.”

You give him a look. Why is he turning serious all of a sudden?

“Wait, red?” Lando does a double take once you’ve composed yourself. “Don’t tell me your ideal type is….”

His forehead creases. You nod.

He says, “Carlos?!” the same time you say, “It’s Kim Mingyu.” How did he even come to that conclusion?

Oh wait. Red. Older than you. Drives fast cars. Racing license. Makes sense.

You blink at each other.

“Who the hell is Kim Mingyu?”

“You don't know Kim Mingyu?” you pull out your phone, open Google Photos, and search for the folder named: 민규❤️❤️❤️. The folder contains 7659 photos of Kim Mingyu.

“Fake boyfriend, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Kim Mingyu,” you show your favorite Mingyu photo.

The one where he’s wearing a black fitted shirt, his cheek against the back of his hand, and the veins in his arms bulging. He’s serving major boyfriend vibes.

Lando rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t look that good.”

“No, Lando, you are not seeing it,” you hold the phone closer to his face.

“I am seeing it and I am saying he’s not good looking.”

“Lies.”

“I'm not lying.”

“It's Kim Mingyu.”

“And?”

You pull a face, retracting your phone. “Come on, he’s quite good looking. And tall. Very tall.”

You once have to stand beside him in an ending ceremony in Inkigayo. You barely even come up to his chest.

“I’m tall.”

“You’re shorter than him.”

“You're killing me here.”

You chuckle. You pat his shoulder in faux sympathy.

“There, there. That's okay. You're my boyfriend anyway. Don't be jealous.”

“Damn right, I am.”

You snort.

“But you have to stan Seventeen though. After your race in Suzuka, we’ll try to binge GoSe.”

When you’re too full to finish the rest of your tteokbokki, you drag Lando outside the convenience store.

“Sand?” he questions.

“Sand,” you state.

“There's sand in my shoes,” Lando complains.

“Take it off and like,” you make the motion of flipping your shoes upside down to remove the sand inside. He does as you’ve told him but he seems to be not fully satisfied with it. There is still sand inside his shoe.

“This won't do,” he says. “I should have brought flip flops.”

“Let's go barefoot,” you kick off your shoes and neatly place them on the foot of a nearby coconut tree. You motion for Lando to do the same, but you’re met with hesitance.

“What if someone steals them?”

It's a valid concern to have, you suppose. You look around you. Darkness is all that can be perceived.

“Who’d steal them? Cheonyeogwisin?”

“I don't even know what that is.”

“Just leave the shoes here, Lando.”

The sand feels good underneath your feet. A bit ticklish. A little too familiar. You turn on the flashlight of your phone and jog up to the shore.

“Wait for me!” you hear Lando scream from behind you.

“Palli!” you yell back, voice almost drowning in the wind.

“I am palli-ing!”

You roll your pants up to your knees and soak your feet in the cold waves, shivering. You turn around just as Lando body slams you and the two of you fall into the ice-cold waves. Your jaw comes slack, eyes wide. The two of you are now drenched from head to toe.

Lando bashfully smiles, “Sorry.”

“Lando!” you splash him in his face.

Lively shrieks fill the silent night sky. The stars twinkle with mirth at the two of you, the line between fake and real blurring.

Lando flies out just four hours after you arrive in Seoul proper. You feel bad for bringing him somewhere far and not giving him enough hours to rest. Then, he tells you: "It's one of the best nights I've ever had."

He sounds so sincere that you have to stop yourself from blushing red.

In the schedule Jinnie gave you, you are only required to make an appearance in the race proper on the 24th. You have the 20th, 21st, and 22nd to work on your single before having to fly out on the 23rd. Regardless, you fly to Japan on the 21st with Jinnie in tow, two days earlier than your original schedule.

Jinnie doesn't question nor protest against your obvious disobedience on the appointed schedule. You're glad she didn't.

"Lando?" you question after seeing the man standing behind your hotel door. It's nearly twelve and you've just checked in the hotel with Jinnie. "What are you..."

"Just checking in," he smiles. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Don't you have a race tomorrow?" Despite your question, you sidestep to let him inside your hotel room. "You should be resting."

"That's okay. I'm well rested. Are you going to watch the FP1 tomorrow?"

You shake your head, "I'm going to work on my song."

"Oh," his face falls. "Why'd you fly in early then?"

You shrug.

Honestly, you don't know either.

It's an act based purely on impulse. Not your finest moments.

"Maybe I can watch?" you say. "I'm not really sure."

You don't want to get mobbed again.

ORACLE has a rather large fanbase in Japan. You know there will be curious fans who'll await your appearance in the race. And while you're glad that your PR relationship with Lando is receiving the right type of attention from the public, you still hate having this much attention on you.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lando says.

"I'll go," you decide with finality. "I mean this is why we're doing this in the first place, right? Make people believe that we're real."

Lando's lips form a line.

"I suppose."

"Then, I'll be there."

The song making can wait.

Once again, Jinnie takes charge in deciding your clothing. You’ve long since given up on protesting or even suggesting your ideas. You have to get used to it again. Wearing whatever is given to you like a doll. After all, you are to return to the stage of KPop again.

Today’s WAG OOTD is a Miu Miu black dress, a black leather jacket, and Gianvito Rossi strappy sandals. Nothing too impressive. It's just the free practice sessions after all.

Jinnie hands you the McLaren ball cap and you grimace.

“How's the song coming up?”

“I’ve been trying to combine my demos and see how it sounds,” you reply. “But I have a concept in mind and I jotted down a few phrases for the lyrics.”

“I got an email from Yoon PD-nim today. He’s strongly suggesting you use a racing concept for your single.”

Strongly suggesting.

Translation: commanding.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Fuck it.

He’s really going to use the scandal and hope it’ll make you rise from the ashes like a phoenix reborn. The problem is that you're far from a phoenix. You’re human. As disappointing that may be but that is the cold truth. You're uncertain how people will react if you use a racing concept. You cannot afford to risk this over something like this.

You have one chance. And if KNetz reacts badly on your song and your MV, you’re never going to have another chance to go back on stage, to go back home.

Yoon PD-nim is too thoughtless at times. You want to shake him.

Jinnie drives you to the paddock and drops you to the parking lot. You expect that you’ll have to find your way to the garage again alone. Your knees are trembling as you step out of the car.

To your surprise, a staff member of the McLaren team—you assume he works for the team because of the orange polo shirt—approaches you as you exit the car.

“[Name]?”

“Hi,” you offer a polite smile.

“I’m Rick, I’m one of Lando’s mechanics, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces.

“Pleasure is all mine, Sir,” you say, dipping your chin into a small bow.

“Come this way,” he beckons. You follow him.

“Did Lando ask you to pick me up?”

“Well, he insisted on picking you up but the race was about to start so we had to force him to stay put in the livery and he wouldn't stay put until we said we’ll pick you up. Said people might flock over you and you don't like it when it happens.”

Your heart warms.

“That's very thoughtful of him. And sweet.”

“That's Lando Norris for you,” he says. “He’s always treating all the people he’s working with kindly. He only has to be polite but he even exerts effort in helping and making our work easier.”

“That's true,” you agree. “I can attest to that, as his fake girlfriend. He only has to treat me well when there's a camera but he’s even going as far as offering friendship.”

The rest of the walk to McLaren was peaceful. Or at least as peaceful as you hope it can be.

[hooked-on-elvis]

The "Street suit", worn onstage by accident (1975)

TWO-TONED STREET SUIT | Other names: Penguin suit Used only once onstage, on August 19, 1975, at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada, during the Midnight concert. Elvis wore the suit with a Black Macrame belt. Info from website elvisconcerts.com (Jumpsuit index)

According to the rumors, Elvis was late for the show that night and he had no time to change his clothes, so he just walked on-stage wearing what he had on at the moment: the Two-toned Street suit.

Elvis during concert in August 19, 1975, at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada.

This sounds a little off to me, to be truthful. If EP in fact wasn't intending wearing the Street suit onstage then I wonder the reasons why: Did he get distracted and forgot to change his outfit in time? Maybe he was visiting with fans backstage or too busy chatting with guests/friends/family in his suite while resting before another concert could begun? (He performed the dinner concert the same night at 8:15pm and wore the Totem Pole suit for it); perhaps something happened with the other outfit he planned to change into for the second concert, considering he didn't want to wear the Totem Pole suit for both concerts the same night; or Elvis simply felt like wearing the Two-toned Street suit because he felt more comfortable in it at the moment. I guess we'll never know what actually happened.

UPDATE: I learned reason why he probably wasn't properly dressed for the August 19th concert. Thanks @deke-rivers-1957 for commenting on this post and sharing your knowledge on what was going on in Elvis' life in those days. I see I was only trying to be optimistic while guessing why Elvis wasn't properly dressed onstage in August 19, 1975 because it went through my mind it could be due to illness someway but I chose not to mention this possibility before. Thanks to you, we have an answer to share here. There you go:

Friday 15, in August 1975 "Late in the evening Elvis leaves Memphis for Las Vegas, very likely in the Jet Commander, but the place is forced to make an unscheduled stop in Dallas when Elvis has difficulty breathing. After resting for several hours in a motel, he recovers sufficiently to continue on the trip." Excerpt from book "Elvis Day by Day: The Definitive Record of His Life and Music" (1999) by Peter Guralnick and Ernst Jorgensen.

Using my words to finish the explanations, Elvis was visibly not okay since, at least, August 15, but all signals were ignored by him and the ones around him. On August 18, 1975 Elvis opened another engagement in Vegas, at the Las Vegas Hilton, but he was visibly still not in good shape. In the book, Ernst Jorgensen says "Elvis had to sit down for much of the performance". The 19th was the second concert night at the venue. Apparently, other than the "wrong suit" situation during the second concert that night, the shows ran smoothly — During the first concert that night, Elvis wore one of his proper performance outfits, the Totem Pole suit, as mentioned before. A possible reason why for the second concert he was dressed casually can be explained from what happened in August 20. On August 20, Elvis told his manager, Col. Parker, he wasn't feeling good enough to perform. Colonel Parker told him to perform that day again because "no prior notice had been given". After the concerts in August 20, the remainder of the shows at the Las Vegas Hilton for that season (it was suppose to be a two-week engagement) were "canceled due to illness". On the 21st, Elvis was back in Memphis and he was hospitalized at the Baptist Memorial Hospital.

The way I see it now with the accurate information, Elvis was trying to say he wasn't feeling okay and this suit was likely his way of showing he was ready to go home. It's only mentioned he was vocal about his illness on August 20th, but knowing this "Street suit" concert was the second that night on the 19th, Elvis was probably not intending to even perform a second concert when he wore his off-stage wardrobe during a performance that night. Maybe backstage he was trying to convince Parker to let him cancel the second show for the night and he didn't succeed in his attempt but it was too late to change his outfit for the show, or, perhaps, knowing a little of Elvis' personality, he was probably not dressed to perform just to piss Colonel Parker off, a way of showing his will needed to be respected and taken seriously.

I confess I really was trying not to imagine EP was sick during that concert, but that's the backstage story behind the "Two-toned Street Suit" worn onstage in 1975.

LET'S SEE THE KING IN ACTION WEARING THAT SUIT:

Elvis had several different colored "two-toned street suits". He wore them during 1975 and 1976. This was the only one which was worn on-stage. Excerpt from website elvisconcerts.com (Jumpsuit index)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

VERSIONS OF THE TWO-TONED SUIT

About that, it's a part of Elvis's personality, as his friends told over the years, "when Elvis likes something, he goes all the way". From general off-work activities (going to the movies, amusement parks, riding motorcycles, collecting guns/police badges, and so on), to food and also to his wardrobe choices, Elvis overdid things when he liked something.

The King owned clothes in the same model in different colors, usually his favorites (blue, red, black and white). Below we have an example of this, before going to the Street Suit.

Two-toned Street Suit

EP had at least four of them: two are black and white with the variation between them being the reverse color scheme, another one goes in two shades of blue and a fourth suit goes in brown and beige tones.

The one he wore onstage is in the second picture below, this time worn casually, as usual. On the photos in both sides of that one, Elvis is wearing the reverse color scheme suit - same model but white with black side stripes and black lapel. On the latter pictures Elvis is wearing Two-toned Street suits in blue and another one in brown/beige tones.

Sometimes Elvis would wear the Two-tone suit jacket as a coat, over his actual stage wear:

The King wearing the Chicken Bone suit with the jacket of his blue shades "Two-Toned Street Suit" over his shoulders.

Elvis performing at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada, on August 19, 1975 (Midnight concert).

Note: Those are only the pictures I could find of this one suit model Elvis had in different colors but it wouldn't surprise me if EP had more of them, which I imagine it would go in red-white or red-black color schemes or even all white/all black versions, but I haven't found pictures that can endorse this theory, so far.

[takaraphoenix]

Polympians Event!

Clarifying right off the gate: This does NOT mean exclusively Percy x poly Olympians, it means any god/Percy ship.

EDIT: I made a sideblog for the event: @polympians-event

EDIT 2: Here's the link to the AO3 collection!

What is the Polympians Event?

What I have in mind is an open event for any and all god/Percy ships. You ship Percy with only one god? Fill the prompts with only that ship! You sail many different god/Percy ships? Fill each prompt with a different ship, if you want! A full Percy/Olympians poly ship, OT3 or any poly constellation? Primordial gods, titans or non-Olympian gods? Any god(s)/Percy ship goes!

I've seen, in recent years, that god/Percy ships have gained quite some traction and I love that, so much. But while there are bigger ships that do have their own events, there are also the tiny rarepairs that don't get these chances, and even with the bigger ones, not everyone has the time/energy to participate in all their ships' events. So one blanket event, where the biggest of god/Percy ships and the rarest of god/Percy ships are equally welcome.

Are there rules to this?

Yes, but only the most basic. No ship bashing or harassment of other participants. The event is open to all god/Percy ships, which means people will participate with your NOTPs too. Don't like them? Don't read them. Instead, focus on the new content to your own ships! If you can't be a civil, normal person about this, then this event isn't for you.

Whether you want to write smut or not is entirely up to you, but you ought to tag appropriately!

What's the plan?

I chose the dates of the Lightning Thief quest for this event! Meaning it will run from May 28th (Percy waking up at CHB) to June 21st (Percy returning the Master Bolt and Helmet).

That length works out well for there to be 12 prompts, and you would have two days to post each prompt, plus an additional 13th prompt on the last day, to keep with the theme of the Olympians.

I'll get an AO3 collection started to which you can submit your entries on AO3 and, if there would be interest in it, I could start a sideblog specifically for this event to which entries (with proper ship tags so you can filter out your NOTPs) will be reblogged as a signal boost.

What are the prompts?

May 28th/29th: Roman

May 30th/31st: wedding/marriage

June 1st/2nd: The sea does not like to be restrained

June 3rd/4th: family focus

June 5th/6th: jealous/possessive [god]

June 7th/8th: role-swap AU (god!Percy/demigod![god])

June 9th/10th: Modern AU/no powers

June 11th/12th: metamorphosis/shapechange

June 13th/14th: godly gifts

June 15th/16th: Aphrodite ships it

June 17th/18th: Percy accepts godhood

June 19th/20th: yearning/pining

June 21st: Mythology

And because I'm bad at phrasing short prompts, here some explanations on what I had in mind with them, though you are of course free to interpret them in whatever manner you read them!

Roman: could mean the Roman aspect of the god, a Roman!Percy AU, or whatever else you want to make of it!

family focus: Are Percy and the god married with children of their own? Percy as step-parent to campers? The god meeting Sally, Paul and/or Tyson?

metamorphosis/shapechange: the gods have a track-record of turning people into animals or plants. Does this mean full animal, or catboy/other hybrid? Is this angst or fluff?

godly gifts: magic powers granted to Percy, or literal physical gifts to court, or something else?

Aphrodite ships it: Aphrodite as wing-woman, hyping and helping, can also very much include Aphrodite/Percy since she would be her own biggest shipper

Mythology: could be a mythological AU where Percy takes on a role from the past, or specific elements of a tale that recur, anything

Let me know if you're interested so I know I won't be hosting this just for myself!

[stephaniebrownslover]

Hİİİİ YET ANOTHER ANON

Can I ask about Creepypasta ages headcanons in your main AU??

THANK YOU FROM NOW <333

HIIIIIIII NEW ANON, YOU'RE SO SWEET<3333

Okay thank you so much for asking, you guys are literally spoiling me, like I'm having a little heart attack whenever someone asks me something.

I don't want this post just be numbers so I'll give a random fact about main characters' most important birthday day and something about non-human characters, hope you don't mind. It's mostly angst and I'm so sorry about that.

YOU'RE WELCOME AND I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT<333

I know most of the ages sound ridiculous but it's really hard to attach them all together :(

Characters' Ages And Facts About Main Characters' Most Important Birthday

Au's ships: TicciWork, NinaKate, MaryJane and Bloody Angel(probably should've said this earlier)

Current year: 2014

Main characters

-Jeff The Killer: 20

Jeff got burned at the age of 15, at his most important birthday. His parents were seeing a therapist while Liu was still in prison, and his therapist made a suggestion to Jeff's parents to organize a birthday party for cheering Jeff up. Jeff can never forget the day he was burned alive because his whole life was shaped by it. That's why he hates his own birthday and attacks if anyone tries to celebrate besides Liu.

- Clockwork: 20

Clockwork's most important birthday is the 18th age. Because that was the first year she wasn't on her own. Jeff, Toby, Nina were close friends of Clockwork at the time and each had their own small-scale celebration. For the first time, Clockwork didn't hate her own birthday. That's how she got into the habit of celebrating other people's birthdays, if she felt good about something stupid like that, the people who cared about her might also deserve to feel good in a stupid way, or something like that.

- Hoodie: 25

According to Brian, the most important birthday is the one he celebrated at the age of 10. His family had taken him to see a theater as a gift, and little Brian was so impressed that he was literally obsessed with theater performances and musicals after that show. Even though 10-year-old Brian is the reason why he is where he is right now, Hoodie never blames him for following his dream.

- Masky: 26

His most important birthday is the 20th, when he started working under Slenderman's orders. The year he realized that his life would be like this and that he would have to spend more than he hoped in this job, that fighting would only cause him to die sooner. Obviously, he didn't care about himself, he'd rather die than live this way, but he didn't want to leave Brian alone.

- Ticci Toby: 19

15th birthday. The last year he celebrated with Lyra and his mother since he was a proxy at the age of 16, he celebrated rest of his birthdays as a proxy. Toby doesn't remember all of his memories, and although most of the time his memories are more like pieces, he knows that two women named Lyra and Connie are worth worlds to him. And every time the fragments of that birthday come in front of him, he feels nothing but happiness.

-Eyeless Jack: 21

↺Actually, if he was still alive, he would have been 34. Because he was 21 when he died during the ritual in 1980.

The most important birthday is the year he received the letter of admission to medical school at the age of 18. He had received this a letter a few days ago, and he and his family had thrown a big party to celebrate it. Although he spent his 19th birthday, his first year of studying med, with his family, the most important thing for him is his 18th age.

-Jane The Killer: 22

21, when Mary proposed to her on her birthday. Jane was in a very emotionally repressed state after all her trauma, and Mary could no longer control her feelings for her. While Jane and her lover Mary were sitting in a fashionable restaurant, Mary proposed to Jane. And when there was a lot of opposition because the age group was generally old due to the cost of the restaurant, Jane kissed her on the lips so as not to discourage Mary. The best birthday of her life.

-X-Virus: 17

7th age. That year, he had gone to the zoo on a school trip and celebrated his birthday with the animals there instead of people. This is the biggest proof that he prefer animals' existence to humans. Of course, he might have been happier if a monkey hadn't stolen his food, but little Cody wasn't mad at the monkey then. And when the monkey saw that Cody was upset later, he gave him some of his food anyway.

-Nina The Killer: 19

16th birthday. She and Jeff hadn't made up yet and it was a day when she was really hurt emotionally by him. Her close friend Kate, who saw this, tried to kill Jeff. Although Nina could hardly stop her, Kate was convinced later and they went to hang out at Kate's special place together. Kate was a really special friend to Nina, and she liked that she knew that Kate opened herself up so much. And when Kate dropped her home in the evening, she found Toby and Clockwork were clumsily trying to celebrate her birthday, she cried because of cuteness.

-Kate The Chaser: 20

The first year she spent with Nina as a lover, 20th age. They had become lovers a few months ago, and unlike other proxies, Kate did not remember anything about her past, so she had no memories to miss. Nina had known her since she found Jeff at the age of 15 and was after him. They became close friends when Kate was 17 and Nina was 16, and they started dating when Nina was 19 and Kate was 20. Their relationship began when Kate took pity on Nina and helped her, and Nina helped her during difficult times where Kate tried to expertize in proxy work. The year they became lovers, Nina organized a special day just for the two of them, knowing that she wouldn't want a big party, and Kate's favorite moment was when they watched the sunset with one head phone.

Main supporting characters

-Homicidal Liu: 18

-Sally: 13

↺If she was still alive, she would have been 55 years old. She died in 1972.

-Ben Drowned: 12

↺If he had continued to live, he would have been 32 years old. He died in 1994.

- Puppeteer: 23

↺ If his heart was still beating, he would have been 37 years old. He died in 2000.

-Zero: 24

-Nurse Ann: 27

↺If her heart had been alive, she would have been 33 years old. She died in 2008.

-Bloody Painter: 17

-Judge Angels: 17

-Mary Vaughn: 22

Supporting characters

-Lulu: 16

-Laughing Jack: 214

↺He was produced in 1800.

-Nightmare Ally: 15

↺If she was still human, she would have been 55 years old. She died in 1974.

- Kagekao: 29

↺If he was still a human, he would have been 34 years old. He died in 2009.

-Rouge: 32

-Jason The Toymaker: 134

↺He was produced in 1880.

-Laughing Jill: 114

↺She was produced in 1900.

Background characters

-Slenderman: 2500+(?)

↺It is not known exactly when he was born, some say that there are drawings of him even in ancient Egypt.

- Emra: 25

↺If she was still alive, she would have been 37 years old. She died in 2002.

-Dr. Smiley: 33

-Cat Hunter: 30

-Zalgo: ?

↺It is estimated that his existence endured back even before the earliest times of humanity.

-Weeping Forest: 16

↺If she had not undergone this change, she would have been 56 years old. She died in 1974.

[yournowheregirl]

thank y’all for your patience for this part and as a treat it’s an extra long one and posted just in time for dolly’s birthday (today, the 19th) and my own (tomorrow, the 20th). see you around for part 6!

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 5: baby i’m burnin’ 

For a just a moment as he looks into Steve’s big hazel eyes, Eddie’s entire world stands still and just two questions echo through his mind.

One: what the hell is Steve doing here?

Two: how much of that song did Steve hear and will he be able to connect the dots?

Okay, technically he has three questions but he doesn’t have time to think about any of them because the longer he’ll stay here, the longer Steve will have time to decipher the puzzle that’s lying right in front of him, right there in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie obviously can’t have that, so he stands up, drops the guitar onto the floor, pushes past Steve and heads towards the exit. He hears Pat and Tish say something, some kind of protest but it doesn’t register in his brain as he slams the door shut behind him.

It’s still coming down in buckets once he steps outside, but it still better than staying inside, to be in the same room with Steve and those damn puppy eyes of his. He jogs to his van, patting his jeans pockets in search for his keys, only to come up empty. 

Fuck. The keys must still be in his leather jacket. Which he left upstairs. Inside the bar.

For a moment, Eddie contemplates just walking all the way back to Hawkins but the continuous rain pour stops him from doing yet another incredibly stupid thing. He kicks the side of the van - it already has enough dents so what’s one more? - and turns on his heel to go back inside.

Only to be once again greeted by Steve.

“Get lost, Harrington.” Eddie bites out before Steve can even get a word in. He pushes past Steve once again, not-so-accidentally bumping into him to really get the point across. 

“Eddie, wait!” Steve grabs him by the wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. 

“Let. Me. Go.” Eddie’s eyes are flaming with anger as Steve nods slowly in response, fingers releasing their grip but lingering just a moment before they completely move away. 

“Eddie, please, just listen to me for one second.” Steve pleads. “I came here because you didn't show up at my place tonight and I was worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?” Eddie snaps. “You should’ve thought about that before you ditched me for some fucking date. Thanks for the heads up by the way, really appreciate it.”

Eddie’s already moving back towards the bar when Steve speaks up again, annoyance written all over his voice. “I ditched you? You were the one who didn’t show up at my house in the first place!”

Is this guy for real? Does he really not see the problem of having a friend over during a first date? Eddie feels his blood boil hotter by the second, and since Steve is probably staring at him with those big doe-eyes of his, like he did nothing wrong, something inside Eddie just snaps. He whips his head around, his wet hair flinging water droplets through the air. 

“Yeah, because you had a goddamn date coming over and so excuse me for not wanting to be a fuckin’ third-wheel with the guy I’m in love with!”

The silence that follows is deafening as Eddie slowly realizes what he just said. 

Oh fuck.

This was not how this was supposed to go. He had a plan, he had moves, he had this whole thing figured out before Dustin dropped the bomb about Steve’s date. Then the plan changed and Eddie made a vow to never say another word about his feelings for Steve to anyone. 

Until now, apparently.  

“You… you’re in love with me?” Steve asks, his voice almost a whisper over the sound of the pouring rain. 

There’s no use in lying at this point, Eddie’s pretty sure that his face is saying everything that Steve needs to know right now. He could deny it all he wants, but deep-down he know that Steve’ll see right through him. He always has. 

Eddie nods slowly, his anger making way for embarrassment and anxiety. He looks away, his racing heart prevents him from looking Steve in the eye. His shoulder sag as he somehow finds the courage to talk again. 

“Just… just go. Go be with your date or whatever. I’ll.. I’ll just back off. We don’t need to see each other if you don’t want to and- and I totally understand if you don’t wanna be friends anymore. I mean I get it, totally get it and-”

But before Eddie can finish his sentence, Steve interrupts him, suddenly standing much closer than before. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. “Why not?”

“Oh my God.” Steve almost whines. “Because you were my date, Eddie!”

Wait, what? That can’t be right.

“I… no. No, we weren’t going on a date, we were having a movie night.” Eddie stammers. “A movie night that you forgot about and- and- no, this wasn’t a date.”

“Tell that to the freshly made pasta and wine I had to put in the fridge because you didn’t show up.” Steve scoffs. He runs a hand through his wet hair, then over his face, shaking off the remainder of water. “Or the dozen roses I bought to put on the table because this-” He gestures between them “-was supposed to be a date.”

The roses. Those goddamn roses that Dustin told him about, they were for him? Eddie’s mind is reeling with all this new information, unable to form a coherent thought. 

“Wait, did you forget that we were going on a date?” Steve asks. He ducks his head in an attempt to force Eddie to look at him. When Eddie finally does, he’s taken aback by how soft Steve’s eyes are, how surprisingly amused he looks by all of this.

Eddie thinks back to earlier that week, when he was loitering around Family Video after his shift at the garage. He and Steve had been talking like any other day, though Eddie had been particularly flirty in that moment, teasing Steve till his face was beet-red and followed by a bright smile and a quiet ‘shut up, Eddie’. 

Customers had come in then, demanding Steve’s attention. But right before he attended to them, Steve had turned around, almost looking shy.

“What are you doing on Friday?”

Eddie shrugged. “Other than contemplating my existence and overthinking all of my sins? Not much.”

“Good.” Steve had laughed. “You wanna come to my place for dinner and a movie? I’ll be making my Nana’s pasta primavera.”

“Ooh, you know how the way to my heart, Steve.” Eddie said, dramatically lying a hand over his heart. “As long as you provide the food, I’ll be there.”

Steve had beamed at him right then and there, like Eddie had personally handed him a ten-thousand dollar check. “Great! It’s a da-” 

The sound of a customer repeatedly dinging the bell on the counter had interrupted the rest of his sentence and Eddie hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But now… now he knows exactly what Steve was going to say. 

It’s a date.

Silence hangs heavy in the air. The downpour muffles the ringing in Eddie’s ears as he tries to wrap his head around all of this. 

Steve wanted tonight to be a date.

Steve wanted to go on a date with him.

Steve likes him. 

What the actual fuck.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Steve mutters. He grabs Eddie’s hands, thumbs softly running across his knuckles and it’s only then that Eddie realizes that his hands have been trembling all this time. “You wanna go back inside? The rain-”

“You… you like me.” Eddie chokes out.

“Yeah, thought that was kinda obvious at this point.” Steve laughs. “But apparently, it wasn’t so I’m sorry, I should’ve-”

Eddie shakes his head, squeezes Steve’s hands a little tighter. “No, no way. If anyone should apologize it’s me. I should’ve just called you when Dustin told me about your date and I should’ve noticed that you were asking me out and I-”

“Eddie…” Steve says softly. 

One of his hands lets go of Eddie’s, only for it to move up to his face. His thumb softly brushes away the droplets of rainwater on his cheek, on his jaw, on his lips. There’s an unspoken question in Steve’s eyes, asking for permission as they wander down to Eddie’s lips, then back up again. 

A simple nod from Eddie is enough to answer that silent question.

Steve’s hand comes to join the other on Eddie’s jaw, cradling his face so gently, like he’s holding a precious gemstone. The way he pulls Eddie towards him, however, is anything but gentle and Eddie almost trips over his own feet, grabbing onto Steve’s waist for balance. And despite the coolness of the rain water, Steve feels warm underneath the soaked pink fabric of his button-down.

There’s a second where Eddie thinks he sees Steve hesitating - his breathing heavy, eyes once again asking for permission, as if Eddie’s ever going to back away now. Eddie fights the urge to roll his eyes and leans in, pressing his lips against Steve’s.

As far as first kisses go, Eddie has had a few. Always rough, always rushed, always dirty. Never with anyone that mattered, never with anyone that cared, never like this.

Because this isn’t anything like those other first kisses, because Steve’s kisses are soft, gentle even. It’s like he’s saying sorry over and over again against Eddie’s lips and it’s this soft gesture that somehow manages to set Eddie’s entire body on fire, burning from the inside out in the best way possible. 

The rain water makes it easier for their lips to glide against one another and it instantly makes Eddie crave more. His grip on Steve’s waist tightens, making Steve gasp in response and Eddie makes good use of that split second to lick his way into Steve’s mouth. 

Steve tastes like rainwater and mint and Eddie fights back a smile - he must’ve taken a breath mint before coming here, a boy scout always comes prepared after all. The taste of it, of Steve, is frankly addicting and Eddie kisses back harder, but still as slow as before, reveling at the soft sounds Steve’s making at the back of his throat. 

They have to pull away for air at some point and Eddie groans in annoyance. He needs to make up for lost time and this wasn’t nearly enough, oxygen be damned.

“As romantic as this is-” Steve laughs when Eddie places kisses all over his face - his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose. “-can we please go back inside? This rain is ruining my jeans.”

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Eddie grins and with a final kiss to Steve’s lips, he pulls away to go back inside and escape the rain.

-xxx-

Pat and Tish are a bit weary when Eddie walks back inside the bar with Steve in tow and even Steve’s usual charming smile doesn’t seem to deter them from glaring daggers at him. 

Eddie’s heart melts a bit at their protectiveness, but he assures them that they talked things out, that things are good now. Pat nods approvingly and invites Steve to come talk to her later and even though her glare has faded, Eddie is still a little scared of her on Steve’s behalf. Tish, on the other hand, immediately squeals with joy and tries to pull both of them in a hug, only backing away when she realizes that they’re soaking wet.

“We need to get you boys some dry clothes.” Tish says.

“No, no, we’ll be on our way.” Steve shakes his head. “Don’t wanna be any trouble.”

“Nonsense. You’re one of us now.” Tish lovingly pats his cheek. “C’mon, we got plenty of clothes in the lost and found and if that fails, we always got Pat’s closet to dig around in.”

Steve looks so very confused and Eddie just laughs, head thrown back as they follow Tish back upstairs. She hands them a cardboard box filled with various clothing items that had been left in the bar over the years and directs them to Pat’s part of the closet.

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” Tish says, walking back to the hallway. She turns around in the doorway, a knowing smile on her lips. “Oh and by the way, these walls are pretty thin, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Okay, bye Tish!” Eddie says quickly, face turning pink at the implication of her words.  He clears his throat and turns to Steve. “Sorry about her.”

“Nah, it’s alright. She’s got nothing to worry about.”

“Wow, we’re, what- ten minutes into this whole relationship crap and you’re already saying you don’t want to jump my bones?” Eddie asks, mock-offended. “Not off to a great start there, Steve.”

“Oh, I’m not saying that.” Steve cocks his head to the side, smirking. “Just saying that I’m not that easy.”

Eddie scoffs. “What? You need winin’ and dinin’ to get in the mood?”

“Certainly helps.” Steve shrugs. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that Eddie can’t quite explain. That is until he remembers what Steve had told him earlier - about the wine and the roses and the dinner in the fridge - and he suddenly feels his face heat up again. There’s a lot you can say about Steve, but he’s definitely a man with a plan. 

“Anyway…” Eddie clears his throat. “Let’s find some clothes yeah?” 

Lucky for them, the clothes in the lost and found box actually fit them pretty well. Sure the jeans are a bit baggier than both of their usual styles, but at least they don’t need a belt to keep it from falling off. But much to Eddie’s dismay, Steve has to take off his button-down since it’s completely drenched

That moment of dismay is short-lived because now Eddie is faced with Steve’s bare chest on full display. He’d seen it before, way back when at Lover’s Lake but he didn’t allow himself to spare Steve a second glance. Didn’t allow himself to look, but oh boy is he looking now. Even with all the scars swirling around his skin, he’s still one the most beautiful men Eddie has ever laid eyes upon. Plus, there is that chest hair that had been torturing him since the moment he spotted it peaking out of that same pink button-down.

Steve catches him staring, right when he’s about to pull on some bland white t-shirt over his head. He stops, lowers his arms and smirks at Eddie. “You do know you’re staring, right?”

“I know.” Eddie nods, smiling. “Think I’m allowed to at this point, don’t you?”

He watches as Steve lets the shirt drop to the floor and his heart speeds up when he notices that Steve is staring right back at him, dark eyes roaming up and down his body. But it’s the look that does it, that look of hunger and desire in Steve’s eyes, that sets Eddie’s insides aflame.

It’s as if Steve can read his mind, because soon as Eddie takes a step forward, Steve does as well, meeting him halfway. There’s a moment where they both just look at each other, waiting who’s going to cave in first. In the end, Eddie isn’t really sure who was the first to lean in, all he knows is that this kiss is vastly different than their first.

No longer soft and tender, the kiss is feverish and frantic with hands roaming over damp, bare skin, pulling each other flush against each other. Their first kiss made Eddie’s brain go all soft and gooey, but this kiss... This kiss makes it go static. Hyper aware of every single one of Steve’s movements, every swipe of his tongue, every bite of his teeth, every nail that digs into his skin.

Steve seems to have a similar reaction, judging by the way he’s desperately moaning when Eddie’s hands find their way into his hair and pull his head to the side for better access to his mouth.

“Be quiet.” Eddie pants against Steve’s lips. “Thin walls, remember?

Steve whines, face scrunched up in annoyance and pulls away. “Fine.”

“Aww Stevie, what’s wrong?” Eddie teases, nails scratching against Steve’s scalp. “You seem a little worked up but… didn’t you say you ain’t that easy?”

Steve’s eyes darken, his breathing heavy as he takes a step back and runs a hand through his hair. It’s literally unfair how hot he looks when doing that and Eddie just wants to pull him right back for more. 

“You… you must know what you’re doing to me with that damn accent of yours.” Steve croaks. He looks flustered, even though he definitely had his tongue halfway down Eddie’s throat just moments ago and it makes the flurry of butterflies inside Eddie’s stomach grow ten sizes.

“Darlin’, I don’t know what you mean.” Eddie winks.

He hears Steve cursing under his breath as Eddie turns around to dig through the lost and found box again. All of the shirts are objectively terrible or don’t fit him at all and even though he knows he’ll just need to pick something dry to wear, he still wants to look good. He has a reputation to uphold after all.

And it’s like the universe is smiling down at him because at the very bottom of the box, Eddie finds a black button-down. A Western cut shirt, in fact, complete with contrasting red piping and embroidered roses underneath the collar. 

Oh, Steve’s gonna love this.

He’s rolling up the sleeves as he turns around, only to find that Steve’s too busy looking in the mirror and messing with hair to notice him. Eddie clears his throat and Steve finally tears his eyes away from his reflection 

“Well, fuck.” Steve groans once he notices what Eddie’s wearing, unable to keep his eyes off Eddie for another second. 

“I believe that now it’s you who’s staring, darlin’.” Eddie smirks

“Oh, I think I’m allowed, don’t you?” Steve says, parroting Eddie’s words back to him. He closes the distance between them again, pulling Eddie by his belt loops. “We better go back downstairs.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not sure how much these walls can drown out if we stay here much longer.”

-xxx-

The bar is open once they get downstairs and Tish immediately pulls them aside and puts two plates of spicy fried chicken and cornbread in front of them.

“On the house.” Tish smiles. “It’s your first date after all.”

Right, tonight was supposed to be their first date. Eddie had almost forgot about it with all the hassle that happened earlier. But it’s clear that Steve hasn’t because he picks up their plates and redirects them to a booth in the far corner of the bar. He’s a real gentleman too, offering to let Eddie slide into the booth first, only to squeeze against him as soon as he sits down. 

Eddie realizes then and there that he’s never been on a date before. 

Not a real one at least, and despite his usual skepticism, it’s actually pretty nice. Now that most of the awkwardness is out of the way, the conversation flows easily, the flirting too, actually. Mostly because Steve continues to be enamored by every vaguely Southern-sounding thing that rolls off Eddie’s tongue while Eddie only pretends to be annoyed by Steve’s cheesy pick-up lines, even though he secretly loves them.

It’s…

It’s easy.

Just like Steve said all those weeks ago, when he broke up with Emily. And then again after he saw Eddie perform right there on that stage. Eddie hadn’t really believed him back then, but now… now, he’s might just start to believe it.

Believe that loving Steve is the easiest thing he’s ever done.

Eddie’s leaning against the wall, with Steve nestled in between his legs when he hears it. A familiar beat, followed by some piano and brass instruments. He immediately pushes Steve out of the booth, scrambles to the feet and pulls Steve towards the dance floor.

“Wha- what is happening?” Steve stammers.

“You look at me that way. I know what your eyes say, your eyes reflect love and desire.” Eddie sings along, a bright smile plastered onto his face. “I see that you need me, I need you to please me. You touch me and set me on fire.”

He pulls Steve closer to him, swaying his hips along to the music. It takes a second for Steve to get the memo but then he’s slinging his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and beaming right back at him.

“I cannot resist you, each time I kiss you, then everything goes up in flames.”

Now Eddie’s not much of a dancer but he can move his hips alright and the sweet sounds of this particular Dolly Parton song will get him moving any day of the week. And the same goes for Steve so it seems, as the smile on his face doesn’t fade once. 

In fact, only grows larger and larger when Eddie grabs his hand and spins him around, his head thrown back with joyous laughter when he falls back into Eddie’s arms.

“Baby, I’m burnin’, out of control. Baby I’m burnin’, body and soul. Hot as a pistol that’s flaming desire, baby, I’m burning you got me on fire.” 

Steve suddenly changes course, one hand snaking around Eddie’s waist, while the other is holding Eddie’s hand tightly. Before Eddie knows what’s happening, Steve dips him, actually dips him like some professionally trained dancer, to the beat of the song.

“Where’d you learn that?” Eddie pants as Steve is still holding him in place.

“What, you thought you were the only one with a secret past?” Steve asks smugly

Eddie doesn’t even get a chance to answer the question because Steve’s lips are back on him in a split second. Not that Eddie minds of course. He could stay like this for hours, safely wrapped in Steve’s arms, feeling warm all over as their lips move in sync against each other.

“Baby I’m burnin’, you got me on fire…”

Eddie’s outfit is inspired by this amazing fanart by themdelakrem!

tag list: @cheatghost @henderdads @unclewaynemunson @goblin-eddie @trikigirl271 @alienace @legitcookie @gothbat99 @fandomcartographer @stevethehairington @blank1eboi @this-earlobe-is-naked @fruitandbubbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @stereoteleversion @wrenisflying @spectrum-spectre @hotluncheddie @punkharringtxn @remislupinsthevoiceofgod @panicatthediaz @thegingervulcan @sharkruption @goodolefashionedloverboi @thelastwalkingsoul @undreamingscatworld @starrystevie @magipemuseum @mightbeasleep @corrodedcoughin @linkydinky06 @hardboiledeggs @gamerdano @limpingpenguin @blackpanzy @piningapple @teelagurl558 @theokatz @moonlightmirrorball @milf-harrington @raisedbylibrarians @eddiemunsonswife @catateme9 @stranger-poets-society @munsonsduchess @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @uwujinniee @bejeweledbaby @hardboiledleggs @hamiltonsteele @edgelordesworld @quickenedheartbeat @episcogoth @purplepluviophile @bornonthesavage @ninjapirateunicorns @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @medolie71 @knitsforthetrail @dilutedpondwater @he-she-steveharrington @plasticcrotches @smallspaceplant @mandalynn @m-owo-n @ceaselessly-watching @aralana765 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @occasionalartthings @lucasrightarm @punctualhowell @sultrypickle @spicemallow @platinum-sunset @batxsignalsx @lovelyscot @sillysparrow @freyaforestafay @im-justatrashcan @airiervessel

[vickyvicarious]

Okay, so this is one of several (I believe?) timeline errors in Seward's accounts. It happens in a few other places but I think nowhere so egregiously as here, with a week of time added in since yesterday's date. I recall that last year there were theories about Dracula affecting Seward's mind in some way, similar to how he affects Renfield and Lucy. While those can be fun to play around with, I'm certain the 'official' explanation is simply that Stoker got mixed up on his timeline and failed to notice that he'd added a week between the 19th and 20th.

All that's backstory though. Because it has only been a day for us, it's perhaps easier to miss, but if we assume the timeline mentioned in the actual text of the entry is what Stoker was envisioning, then... Renfield has seemingly been chained to a wall and in a straightjacket for a week straight:

For the first week after his attack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to himself: "Now I can wait; now I can wait." The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at him. He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the padded room, but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something of their old pleading—I might almost say, "cringing"—softness. I was satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved.

That's... I didn't really put it together last year, too caught up in the actual dates we're given, but. That's horrifying.

I love the delivery of Renfield's "now I can wait." But something about the amount of time it took makes it so creepy and so sad. He's been raging and fighting for a week, and it's only now when he can finally calm himself enough to go back to his more strategically placating approach towards his captors. (And it seems the moon has prompted this change within him... more thoughts on that later.) Indeed, only when he does so does he regain any semblance of his former freedom.

"They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The fools!" It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself dissociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the others; but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together; or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well-being is needful to him? I must find out later on. To-night he will not speak.

I think this passage proves how Seward's view of Renfield is very tied to his own personal feelings, and is thus anything but professional and objective. In the past, he's been overly indulgent of Renfield when he wants to discover a new madness that he can put his name to, and has even been tempted to go further; in his previous entry he felt hurt by Renfield ignoring him and then escaping, and lashed out with dismissive assumptions of delusions he must be having, and locked him up/restrained him. Apparently, kept him restrained until he resumed his former more placating behavior. Seward is fascinated by Renfield partially out of ambition, and partially out of this idea that they have some kind of bond or he has some unique understanding of Renfield.

And yet that idea upsets him too. He knows that he himself is abnormal in some way, perhaps is very conscious of or worried about this fact, and kind of scoffs at/dismisses the idea that Renfield might view him as someone who is on the same 'side' or understands his perspective. It sort of feels like Seward wants Renfield to be open with him and confide in him but only in a respectful way that acknowledges him as mentally/status-wise superior. If Renfield treats him as equal to the attendants, that is failing to acknowledge his superior status and intellect and training. If Renfield treats him as an ally opposed to the attendants, then that implies the two of them are of equal status and that Seward's being viewed as mentally on a level (and thus mad at least to an extent) rather than superior. Even as it partially soothes his hurt feelings the idea kind of upsets him, and he kind of scoffs at it.

The last possibility he brings up is that Renfield is using him. But Seward tests that right away and it doesn't seem to go anywhere yet: the cats that previously were Renfield's greatest desire today do not interest him in the least. I keep feeling like there's a weird balance of Seward being very willing to see Renfield as very calculative and secretly harboring murderous plans, but at the same time not having much ability to recognize when he himself is being manipulated by Renfield. Like this pleading/cringing behavior. On the one hand he has definitely noticed it is a deliberate action in the past, but at the same time he seems to consider it an indication that Renfield can be 'managed' again and set loose from his padded cell/restraints. (Not that I think releasing him is a bad idea, but it is an interesting disconnect from how Seward has kind of looked at it in the past, I guess?) Seward often notices when Renfield is trying to get something from him but doesn't necessarily refuse it, or still lets his own emotions/ambitions influence his response. I feel like it comes down to a lot of ableism in his faith that he is smarter/more able to see through and manage Renfield, and thus can afford to sometimes indulge Renfield's efforts to use him. Meanwhile I feel like Renfield has deliberately played into that at least sometimes in order to get his own way, and Seward doesn't recognize how clever he actually is.

Happy thought! We shall to-night play sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help; to-night he shall escape with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow in case they are required….

I love the way he pauses and then says "happy thought!" He truly is just having a sudden idea, and his curiosity is overwhelming his ethics/common sense here. Honestly, in this entry? It reminds me a lot of Dracula once again. I can easily see Dracula thinking this to himself with a few minor changes.

Perhaps on May 15th, before reminding/taunting Jonathan never to sleep outside his own rooms. Or even better, on June 29th when Jonathan asks to leave right then and he gets his wolf idea:

Happy thought! I shall to-night play predator nerves against prey ones. He tried to escape before without my help; to-night he shall have the chance to escape with it. I shall show him the door, and have the wolves ready outside in case they are required….

...look, I'm just saying, Seward is super creepy this entry.

[c-rowlesdraws]

Idk what a perilla is or why it has something to do with pickles, but she’s adorable

Perilla Pickle's name has a story behind it! The friends who found her originally named her Pickle after they caught her nuzzling a large jar of homemade pickles in the kitchen. I wanted to keep Pickle but give her an additional name, so I started thinking of types of pickles and vegetables that could be pickled, to keep her new name on-theme.

The wikipedia page for pickled foods helped. Out of my shortlist of potential names, I chose Perilla. Perilla is a genus of herb, with different varieties used in East and Southeast Asian cuisine (shiso in Japan, kkaennip and deulkkae in Korea), and traditional Chinese medicine (紫蘇). I found out about Korean pickled perilla leaves, kkaennip-jangajji, via Maangchi's fantastic Korean cooking YouTube channel, so I'd already had the name Perilla as a high candidate before I started looking at Wikipedia for further inspiration. What boosted it to number one ultimately was the alliteration and the rhythm ("Perilla Pickle" is fun to say), and also that "Perilla" sounds like it could be a "normal" name, maybe for a sweet, naive heroine in a 19th or early 20th century novel. It made me imagine my cat dressed up like a Beatrix Potter illustration. And a name that brings that sort of image to mind is definitely the one to choose.

[clonefandomevents]

Trans Clone Week 2024 Prompts!

Prompts are here! We have three prompts, a quote prompt, an image prompt and a battalion prompt for the first 6 days! Choose one, choose them all! Day 7 is a free day, anything you like or a prompt you couldn't decide between for an earlier day.

Day 1- July 14th:

Kamino Guard-

-Cadets

-Gender Affirming Technology

-Snuggling

-"For my part, I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream." Vincent Van Goh

('Becoming' banner by Jasper Alexander- https://www.tumblr.com/sunshineprincejeremyknox/744761034799202304?source=share)

Day 2- July 15th:

212th-

-Trans Commander

-Gender Affirming Dirty Talk

-Intimacy

-"Will I be something? Am I something? And the answer comes: You already are. You always were. And you still have time to be." Anis Mojgani, from “Here I Am”, Songs from Under the River: A Collection of Poetry

(A State of Mind by Robert W. Chambers- https://images.app.goo.gl/7BF1f723M5GKoGJDA)

Day 3- July 16th:

501st-

-Clone Gender Expression vs Other's Expectations

-Vod'e Cultural Gender Markers

-Tattoos

-"God has given you one face, and you make yourself another." - Shakespeare

(Barbie and Ken- https://images.app.goo.gl/4LEZ424od96RffeY7)

Day 4- July 17th:

104th-

-During Wartime

-Trans4Trans

-Hair Braiding

-"Invigorated by the possibility of reinventing my own body. The meaning was mine, as long as I was with those who had the vision and vocabulary to understand my creation." -Nick Krieger

(https://www.tumblr.com/sunshineprincejeremyknox/722124686135361536?source=share)

Day 5-July 18th:

Coruscant Guard-

-A Senator/Natborn Finds Out

-Internalized Transphobia

-Nightclubs(79's)

-"Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known." -Chuck Palahniuk

(https://www.tumblr.com/sunshineprincejeremyknox/742328449316880384?source=share)

Day 6- July 19th:

Original Units-

-After the War

-Gender Euphoria

-Community

-“Always remember that you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else.” -Margaret Mead

(https://www.tumblr.com/sunshineprincejeremyknox/722349367302012929?source=share)

Day 7-July 20th:

Free Day!! Create any and everything for your favorite clones!

[vivianvixen]

Back in the days of yore, baby Vivian would ask her parents when Children's Day was, since we had Mother's Day and Father's Day. My parents would give me some platitude about how every day is children's day! But they could've also just said "20th of November," an answer I would probably have found more satisfactory.

Recently this one guy in an explicitly leftist space commented how the Y-chromosome clearly leads to brain damage or mental illness or something. If you've ever wondered whether internalized misandry is a thing, yeah turns out it is.

So let me talk to the boys, more specifically cishet boys: you're actually great. Well maybe not you personally, I don't know all of you and I bet some of you are real pieces of work, but, like, being a cishet dude? That's great, I love that you are that thing!

You being born a straight cis male added to the beautiful patchwork quilt that is humanity. You are not the default. You are a vibrant splash of color on the human canvas. Even vanilla is a flavor.

Maybe you've heard about how great you are in a very different tone, one that suggests you ought to be placed on a pedestal above others, and that doesn't sit right with you. Well it doesn't sit right with me, either! So take this from someone who probably agrees with you on a lot of things: you can still be proud of who and what you are, because truth be told you are not on a pedestal, you are more than likely down here in the mud with the rest of us. So let's get together and bake that mud into bricks, then build a big tower we can climb to fight God!

So next time some dudebro asks "oh but when's International Men's Day, huh?!?!?!" you can, instead of delivering whatever scathing remark you had in mind, hit them with "the 19th of November." Love yourself for what you are, because God (whom we are about to fight) knows I do.

[wiltedprayers]

Lewis Nixon as a poetry movement: The objectivists.

so, I thought it'd be nice if I did a little analysis of Lew's character through different periods of poetry— to be more precise, modernist poetry (late 19th century-mid 20th century). Nix was a socialite and Yale student, so he probably went on to study the classics and more cemented poetry movements like Renaissance poetry and (maybe) the English romantics. however, considering the nature of his character (and I am talking about the HBO dramatized version, not the real-life Lewis Nixon), I think he'd be more interested and moved by the contemporary poets of his time (early 20th century). this is especially because of their disruptive philosophy regarding poetry: the avant-garde movements of the time (which included poetry, but also extended to theater, film, and plastic art) were many, incredibly present in the politics of the period, and brought a new perspective to the study of poetry that remained throughout the century.

the objectivists, which were not exactly a 'movement' and more of a small group of like-minded individuals, believed in the sincerity and objectification of poetry: they treated the poem as an object and had an intelligent approach to their writings, greatly inspired by the previous Imaginist movement and the history contained within their poetry.

the core group of objectivist poets consisted of Louis Zukofsky, Carl Rakosi, Charles Reznikoff, Basil Bunting, Lorine Niedecker, William Carlos Williams, and George Oppen. they were most present during the 1930s.

their poems were characterized by line breaks that disrupted a normal speech rhythm and had deliberate syntactic fragmentation (something present in 19th century Emily Dickinson's poetry, for example). they weren't inherently absurd (like Dada poetry) and usually touched heavily on political topics, given that most of them were left-wing and/or Marxists. they exploited small and everyday words like 'The', 'Is', and 'A'.

excerpt from Louis Zukofsky's "'A'—22":

why do I think Nix would've enjoyed their poetry? well, for one, I think he would've appreciated the innovation and simple wording used to convey strong emotional points; Nix, unlike characters like Webster, doesn't believe in flowery language and always came across to me as a concise, fast man. he held no love for his years at Yale and always looked at things from a different perspective which, in my opinion, is what made him such a fitting intelligence officer. I think Nix would've been attracted to the objectifying nature of this type of poetry; seeing the poem as a real thing in a way in which it allows us to be sincere with ourselves.

it's worth mentioning that most objectivists came from poverty or marginalized backgrounds, which greatly influenced their writing. naturally, there'd be a real dissonance between Nix and these topics for obvious reasons, but there's no reason to think he'd be put off by them. if anything, I see Nix as a learner, an observer, a very curious man. this is all conjecture of course, but treading into more modern and avant-garde art movements seems like something he'd do in an attempt to distance himself from his structured 'prep school' type of education. while Nix is not precisely a rebel, he's also not one stuck in ancient conventions, and he's not afraid to defy authority (see his reticence regarding sobel and sometimes sink, his approval of Dick's fake patrol, etc). he'll adapt very nicely to social etiquette because that's the environment in which he was raised, sure, but he doesn't really care for it.

excerpt from Carl Rakosi's "In What Sense I Am I", which I think fits Nix’s character rather nicely:

we can see the disjuncture in the way Rakosi presents his sentences, purposefully creating an organized mess of his paragraph to make his poem seem like its building itself off piece by piece; this is just so incredibly Nix in my opinion.

another poem, this time a piece by Lorine Niedecker:

once again, the structure of the poem is loose, and very short. It's concise and to the point; Niedecker's use of "Ah" also showcases the objectivist poetry style, one where everyday expressions and simple sounds take center stage.

to wrap this up, I think Lewis Nixon (as a character!) would be much inclined to a certain type of poetry present mainly in the modernist period of the early 20th century. one that's disruptive, innovative, and contemporary, that isn't afraid to focus on an intelligent use of prose by the poet; this poetry movements (imagism, objectivism, and early confessional poetry) are very tied to their sociopolitical context, and fundamentally change the discipline, which will continue to evolve artistically throughout the rest of the 1900s.

if you'd like me to analyze other BoB (or even the Pacific) characters through poetry and art, please let me know! gotta admit, I wrote this in a frenzy at 3am because I just could not stop thinking about a fictional character's likely poetic inclinations. would appreciate any kind of contribution on this subject too! this is, of course, just my opinion :) feel free to disagree!

[shallyne]

The Diary of Feyre Archeron Ch 4

CHAPTER FOUUUUUUR! YAY!!! All chapters on A03

Words: 1.6k

TW: signs of a panic attack, death, implied murder

July 19th

It's barely daybreak and we already got bad news. Mom had a stroke last night, so severe that she's now in a coma. I tried talking to Nesta but she didn't reply and just left, Elain still seems in shock. I don't know how I feel, it all just seems going downward right now and there is no way to stop it. Is it possible to feel nothing about mom's stroke? Maybe I am in shock but I don't feel like I am in shock, I just, I feel nothing. Does that make me a bad person? Maybe it does, maybe I am a bad person but if I am a bad person, then mom is a bad person, too.

I'm trying not to think too much about it, Elain and Nesta are more important right now because they do feel something, and I want to make sure that they know I am there for them if they want to talk. I doubt they will but it's always nice to know that there is someone, right?

Also, should we tell dad? Should we tell him soon or wait for some news? He's going to be devastated, like we were when we lost everything because of his antics.

I shouldn't go down this route right now, maybe another time.

Well, I guess it's time now to get ready for school, maybe Rhys will distact me from this shitshow my family is right now.

July 20th

Rhys told me today that he needs to talk to me soon about something important, whenever I have time. I only have time next Saturday and he was okay with meeting in the little park close to school then, so it can't be urgent.

OMG, maybe he's asking me on a date? That MUST be it!! I don't know how I am just thinking about it. Maybe I can borrow a dress from Nesta for Saturday and wear a little makeup. I don't know much about makeup, maybe Elain can help me. This is so exciting. FINALLY!! I'm totally saying yes but not instantly, he took long enough to ask me on a date.

I'll let my hair open, I know he likes it. I did it once and he told me I looked pretty, so that's a given. I also have this perfume I'm only wearing for special occasions, I'll use that, too.

Maybe I can get some details about it in the following week.

This is the best day of my life!!!!

Also, Ianthe has been a bitch to me. Rhys had told me she kept flirting with him after he rejected her a bajillion times and I told her to go away after she tried AGAIN. Unbelievable, right?

Such a shame she smashed her hand in her locker door in the PE changing room where no one could see us her.

I hope it heals just fine, would be sad if it didn't.

July 21st

I'm trying to draw and I just can't. Everytime I try I'm staring at a blank canvas, which is just as blank as my mind. I thought the maybe-date with Rhys would inspire me at least a little but it's impossible. I have a creative block. Even thinking about picking up a pencil or a brush takes all my energy, I never felt this way about painting. Painting was always my escape, I was always good at expressing any feeling through art. Now, I just get angry. I want to take the canvas and throw it away. I like having this diary but it's not the same as painting, I can't express myself in words like I do in sketches and paintings, or even scribbles. That part of me just feels empty now, like someone stole all the colors, all lights and feelings and shapes. It's a void.

Elain looked at my canvas and told me to give it a few days, maybe she's right. It's a stressful time for us all. We will get through this and then we go back to our normal lives because everything will be okay.

I'm trying to tell myself that at least, like Elain does, but there is always a little voice in my head that doubts any happiness will come our way.

The feeling of impending doom is still there, gripping me everyday, reminding me that all is not okay. Maybe it's just a puberty thing, I'm sure Nesta and Elain went through the same thing. I wouldn't know, talking about feelings in the Archeron household is like eating a steak as a vegan. You don't do it.

July 26th

Rhys is dead to me.

He and his stupid father don't exist anymore, not in my world. They are dead. DEAD.

Rhys hadn't invited me to ask me on a date, I didn't get ready, borrowed Nesta's dress, let Elain do my makeup, use my good perfume, because he wanted to ask me on a date. No, he invited me to tell me that he is the reason for ruining my life. My whole family's life. That we have NOTHING! Okay fine, it's his father's fault but what's the difference? I AM SO ANGRY. He just moved here to ruin my father's business because of some stupid deal my father broke. Speaking of father, my father is just as dead to me. He can rot in hell, I hope he rots in prison. My sister's are suffering because of HIM. Because of his decisions, because of Rhysand's family. I hate my father, I hate Rhysand's father, I hate Rhysand.

I must have looked just as distraught as I feel because Nesta knew instantly that something happened when I came home. I told her everything, her and Elain, and she is seething.

I can't believe I fell for Rhysand, I can't believe I fell for a fucking lie.

I'm just so angry I can barely breathe. I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe.

How am I supposed to see Rhysand everyday at school and not scream at him, at the unfairness of it all. How can I ever look at myself, live with myself, for falling foe his tricks to get close to me like a fool.

It was all a lie.

Dad's business was a lie.

Our life was a lie.

Rhysand was a big fucking lie.

I can't breathe.

July 31st

I'm sitting in a train.

The last twenty-four hours five days felt like a bad nightmare, one I just want to wake up from. But it's not a nightmare, is it? It's real.

Mom is dead. They said it was the stroke. Rhysand said it wasn't. I don't know why I believe him but he looked genuine. Maybe I am a fool for trusting him in this but Nesta seems to believe him, too.

Ruining my father's business wasn't the last of Rhysand's father's plans for my father. My father ruined a big deal, now Rhysand's father ruins his life. Meaning that he sends out his men to kill the people my father loves. Which includes my mother. And his daughters.

I think this is how shock feels, feeling like an empty shell. Every movement feels robotic, only muscle memory making me move.

Nesta told me that Rhysand's brothers knocked like crazy on the front door, the tall one was even short of breaking the freaking door down, to warn them about the threat on their lives. Meanwhile Rhysand dragged me out of that diner, kicking and screaming. I didn't want to listen, I didn't want to touch him, but he didn't budge. He brought me to my sisters. Telling me the plan.

The plan to send us away, to a friend who can help us. I think his name was Jurian. We are traveling to him now, he lives in a little city near Austin.

After that we won't be the Archeron’s anymore, we will live under another name, in a city far away.

I don't even know why Rhysand helped us, why would he care. He used me as a pawn for his father and now he helps us running away? I know that he said he never used me but the timing of befriending me seemed convenient. He also said he wouldn't track us after we got our new identities in Austin, but I don't know if I believe him. Maybe his friend will rat us out.

I made a promise to myself when we entered the train station this morning. I promised to keep Nesta and Elain safe, whatever it takes. They used me, they got my mom but they won't get my sister's.

Also, dear diary, this will be my last entry. Nesta wanted me to burn my diary, so it couldn't be tracked to us, but we compromised and I would keep it hidden wherever we end up. Never touch it again.

It was nice to have you as a silent companion as long as it lasted.

Bye

Excerpt from a group chat between Rhysand, Morrigan, Cassian and Azriel

Azriel: They just left Jurian’s house.

Cassian: so, that's it?

Morrigan: no contact anymore, it's to keep them safe, Cassian

Cassian: I know but how sure can we be that Aamon’s men won't track them down?

Rhysand: they won't

Cassian: but can we be SURE

Azriel: yes

Morrigan: Rhys, have you told Feyre?

Rhysand: no, it wasn't the time

Morrigan: there will never be the perfect time to tell someone you love them but it was your last chance

Rhysand: I know

Cassian: maybe it won't be forever

Rhysand: maybe

Morrigan: maybe

Azriel: maybe

Feysand Taglist:

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @starfall-spirit @rhysiedarling @corcracrow @sydney-fae25 @tothestarsandwhateverend @aayo-whatt @dreamlandreader

[illbewritinghere]

Thoughts on Indika

I love media with themes of nuns, I remember watching Sister Death with my wife and enjoying it. I have to say I picked up Indika just by looking at the cover art, I had no prior knowledge about the game. Looking at the trailer I assumed it to a Monty Python-esque escapades of a Nun. It is, but it is so much more than that.

The Story (spoilers)

The story takes place in 19th to early 20th century Russia and is about a girl named Indika. She lived with her father who ran a bike shop. When she was 15 she met a gypsy boy, they became friends and soon they fell in love. The boy asked Indika to run away with her to the city where they can start a new life. Indika reluctantly agreed and the boy convinced her to let him steal money from her father's store. However, the boy gets caught stealing by the father. He drags him out of the store in front of Indika and asks her if she knows the boy. Indika was just a child and seemed to be scared of her burly and mean looking father, out of fright she said she didn't know him and her father shot and killed the boy right infrot of Indika.

This snapped something in her. Watching the love of her life killed in front of her own eyes by her father. She felt tremendous guilt, maybe if she had said she knows the boy her father would not have killed the boy. She did not want to accept her fault and blamed it on the devil. Ever since then, she started to hear the devil in her head, and blamed every bad thing she did on the devil. Her father after realizing this, sent her to a Nunnery to become a nun.

Fast forward maybe ten years later, the game starts with Indika performing the everyday chores of a Nun. She is disliked among her peers even though she is very polite to everyone. Probably because the orthodox people she is around do not like the fact that she has the devil residing inside her head.

One day she was tasked with delivering a letter for which she had to travel to another town. Things take turn for the worse however when Indika was cornered by a person who tried to rape her. Fortunately she was saved by an escaped convict, Illya. She felt indebted and helped Illya escape the authorities.

On her journey, she finds out Illya has a decomposing arm which he refuses to amputate. Illya is a religious man and he believes that in a farway land there is a rumor of something called the Kudets which performs miracles in front of your very own eyes. Indika decided to follow him to find the Kudets because she believes that it could also help her rid the devil from inside her.

Through out her journey, we get to see the human side of Indika, she seems to question her faith while still blindly following it, she shows sexual attraction towards Illya but still abstaining from it. Every time she would think of questioning her faith, we'll hear the devil talking and Indika would shut the voice up by conforming to her beliefs.

Things took an unfortunate turn however when the decomposing arm of Illya got progressively worse and Indika had to cut it off to save him. Once Illya realized that Indika cut his arm off, he was furious and decided to go find the Kudets alone. He believed he was special and the Kudets would allow God to perform a miracle and heal his arm. Because of this he thought Indika was jealous and did not want him to witness the miracle, even though she only tried to save his life.

They eventually reunited and finally managed to find the Kudets. It was a jeweled crown in a cathedral. The priest would not let them near it and in a scuffle he was shot and killed by one of his own guards. Illya ran away with the Kudets and Indika was captured by one of the guards.

She was taken to the gallows where was going to hanged for the murder of a priest. In an effort to save herself she decided to pay the jailer for her release with a sexual favor. When she was getting raped she spoke to the devil in her head who made her realize that god and the devil are only with her own mind, one cannot exist without the other. She managed to trap the jailer by throwing a cupboard on top of him and escape.

In the finale she reunites with Illya who seemed to have been wandering the streets as a lost cause. He sold the Kudets to a pawn shop as it did not perform a miracle. Indika visited the pawn shop and prayed to the Kudets herself in a effort to rid her of the devil but by that time she had already realized that it was all in her head. At the end when she looked at the mirror, she did not see the devil, rather she saw her own reflection.

Thoughts

Indika tells the story a young girl who did not have a direction in life. Just like every child she was not religious but was made to be one. She suffered from schizophrenia but people made her believe it was the devil whispering to her. Throughout her journey there were many events which made her question her faith but she never strayed from her path as she wanted to be a good nun. In the finale, when she stops seeing herself as the devil in her own reflection, the game leaves it for the player to determine if the Kudets actually rid her of the devil, or she realized that it's all a charade and stopped having faith.

[is-the-19thcentury-man-okay]

How do I keep my 18th century man from trying to explore the high arctic? I've tried to distract him but it hasn't worked :( I feel worried about the risks

I assume this is a typo and you meant to say 19th century man? I still know a thing or two about late 18th century Georgians and early 20th century Edwardians because long nineteenth century and all that, but 19th century men are my main hobbyist interest.

That said, Lord Nelson fighting a polar bear (which allegedly took place in 1773 when he was a midshipman) in this 1806 painting by Richard Westall has caused so many problems!

You would think an early 19th century man would be unaffected by the siren song of the Discovery Service with the Napoleonic Wars still raging, but no! They really had Captain Philip Broke of HMS Shannon—yes, that Captain Broke—up in the arctic in 1807 chasing French warships that were harrassing British whalers, and also making new charts of the area with inadequate surveying equipment. (It's true, read "In Arctic Waters" by Michael Barritt in Broke of the Shannon and the War of 1812 ed. Tim Voelcker.)

Not even literature is safe—there are all those dramatic passages about the arctic in Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, and before you know it your 19th century man thinks the polar wilderness is the embodiment of the sublime!

If he's a mid 19th century man, there's the added pressure of seeking employment in a bleak economic climate, and he might see an arctic voyage as a sure path to career advancement no matter how many times you tell him John Ross was lucky to be rescued and no his officers were probably not wearing elegant coats and black stocks like that; sometimes explorer narratives embellish the truth.

Some diversions to take his mind off the high arctic include:

Take a course at the Royal Naval College! He's probably some kind of math nerd if your man thinks he's cut out for the Discovery Service.

A tour to improve his draughtsmanship—get him into nature with the excuse that he's developing his artistic skills to draw flora and fauna on an expedition.

A good old-fashioned vacation. He could just need a break from constantly being assigned to a ship and/or processing his experiences from one or more foreign wars.

Sometimes you can successfully redirect his polar passion into something like hydrographic surveying and cartography. Reassure him that it's just as imperialist, but with less scurvy and cannibalism. Any voyage, even if it's not very long, is going to give him the homosocial bonding he probably craves.

[ohboycharlie]

THE ELEVATOR ଓ｡˚.CL16 (part3)

part1 and part2 pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: cupid takes the form of an elevator

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Oh hello there nice to see you again." I was trying so hard to resist the smile on my face when he said that because I was going to make him swallow back his words.

"Oh hi, I honestly did not know anyone else would be up at this ungodly hour so excuse my appearance." Yea, I TOTALLY did not know he was going to be awake. 23rd floor. "No no, no worries that's fine. Your apartment, your comfort right?" "Hahaha true that." 22nd floor. "Anyways what is your name btw if you don't mind me asking?" Yea sure as if I minded. "Not to be critical but I just met you twice and you already know what floor I live on so I don't want to endanger myself by telling you my name" 21st floor. "Ah, I see you are a true woman" TF. "Excuse me? Was that supposed to be a good thing?"

He knew he fucked up. "Oh god, I did not want it to come out that way it's just that you are careful like every woman and as you should but I am a nice person. No wait even the bad ones say that uh I am Charles btw." "I know. I see your face everywhere" 20th floor. BAM! The elevator rumbled and started making noises and then we stopped.

But before I could scream, Charles did the job for me. "oh merde ça se passe putain! oh god uhm ho paura di questa situazione esatta!" This bitch was stealing MY show. "Uhm okay first of all calm down ig? and second of all I understood nothing from what you said" He looked at me as if I just slapped him. "You don't understand the two languages spoken here?" He was speaking while hyperventilating but I still took offense. Before I could say anything he spoke up. "I said I'm scared of this exact situation. This has been my nightmare since I don't know how long."

This bitch did not just say that. I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE NOT HIM. "If you knew about this nightmare, why would you take a flat this up? That makes no sense and also breath and have water here." He gulped down the entire bottle rather ungracefully. "I did not have a choice. Every other flat was taken." I did not know what to make of it so I looked up to the camera and just shook my hand near my neck as if to tell Maya the show was over. Fortunately, Charles was busy screaming for help. The elevator started in a few minutes and I could see he was more than eager to get off.

"I apologise for what you had to see, I am usually never like this" I had to say something to make things less awkward so I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. "You drive fast cars for a living which has a very high chance of crashing yet you are like this just because the elevator got stuck?" 19th floor. "Hey, Tom Holland played Spider-Man yet he is terrified of spiders." He made a good point so I just nodded along. It was insanely silent for the next three floors and I had never wished for the ground to open up and swallow me more.

"So...where do you work?" "Uhm here and there." The way his eyebrows rose was a clear question itself yet he decided to voice it out. "Why aren't you telling me the exact place?" 15th floor. "Dude, I did not tell you my name, what makes you think I would tell you where I work? Give me one good reason not to be cautious of you." I knew I made a good point when he hesitated to answer. "Uhm maybe because everyone knows me and if anything were to happen to you, my reputation would be, what's the word for gâté in English? uh, I don't know my reputation would go bad so why would I risk it?" 14th floor. "Exactly. Everyone knows you and loves you. They would never question you. So leave it. Let's just be elevator buddies." "But isn't this friendship a bit one-sided? I know nothing about you yet you know everything about me."

What a conceited little bitch. "Charles Leclerc is your name and you drive for Ferrari in a Formula 1 car. That is all I know about you. I honestly do not have the time to keep up with F1 gossip and does that mean whatever the media puts, is true about you?" 13th floor. "That is still more than what I know about you!" "Well then remember me as the mystery elevator girl." I shrugged. "Sure okay." It was again silent until the 8th floor when my phone rang. I didn't know the signal reached inside. It was Maya and I knew it must have been important for she would never call me in that situation. "Hello?" "Dude the guy, he recognised Charles and is not threatening to call the police." "WHAT THE FUCK. HOW" "I don't know, I told him I paid a hefty amount and that he should just shut up but you know what he said? He said prenez votre argent, I am going." "Girl you know I do not understand French" 7th floor.

"He said he doesn't want the money." "Stop him somehow I don't know. Maya, we can be in real trouble please." "I'll see what I can do" I cut the call knowing Charles heard every second of it. His face was filled with concern as I turned around. "Is everything alright?" How could I tell him he was going to be the reason I would be in jail. "Yea yea, everything is fine just a work-related issue. Nothing serious." I could see he knew I was lying but he didn't press the issue further.

Finally, the elevator opened and we parted ways with a bye. I immediately turned around and went up to my house again so that the guy could not run away. As soon as I reached I knew I couldn't alert the person that someone was coming so I had to open the door with my keys but the thing was, I could not find my keys. As I was struggling to open the door for a good 5 minutes, I heard the elevator opening. Oh god no no no no don't be him please please but I knew my prayers were for nothing when I heard his scream. "YOU!?"

[masha-nikita]

How strong is his Mars?- Walter Model

This is a continuation of my series on the Wehrmacht- “How strong is his Mars?” to test a theory in Astrology community- you’ve got to have a strong Mars to be competent in the military.

Is that theory true? Let’s find out with Walter Model.

A Pisces Mars can be pretty random- this Mars cannot fully explain “why I take this action??” It instinctually knows what to act on—pretty randomly, mind you. It generally leads to bipolarity and unsteadiness, unless a “personal truth” can be fully reached (after a lot of randomness and struggles).

As previously explored in Manstein’s Pisces Moon, Pisces is dissolution of boundaries. Since Mars is basically a forward moving action / goal-oriented momentum / how one overcome obstacles with force, its scattered force does not make a particularly effective Mars. Not a good placement for military leaders, but a good placement for poets and philosophers.

this Pisces Mars doesn’t distinguish one operation from the next one, nor does it put different actions into categories. Model probably sees “let the generals all sit down and name this attack Operation XXX, and make a decision” the dumbest approach and a waste of time. From the moment the war starts to its very end, everything is a huge flow of messy motions- that’s the gist of Model’s Mars.

Some astrologers would comment Pisces Mars as “too soft and nice to other people, too accommodating, too indecisive”. I think that is a dumb take if you take a closer look at Walter Model, whose eyes even the Führer dreaded.

This is indeed not the best Mars out there- Pisces Mars is simply too random, too scattered, too sentimental, and that weakens Mars significantly. It’ll make him an excellent tactician but a shitty strategist. On its own, it is only a 5-ish score Mars, but it is very well-supported with one important aspect, so its score is bumped up all the way to 8.

This Mars has incredible support from the Neptune-Pluto conjunction- but this is also Model’s greatest curse. Neptune-Pluto was a really long and really powerful generational aspect that lasted throughout the late 19th to early 20th century.

Neptune being the collective dream state, its combination with Pluto signifies “dreaming about the ultimate destruction, power, and transformation, the Ex-Machina-like CULT OF PERSONALITY that would end all history with a final history, whose mighty wheels crush little individuals like worthless bugs.” Everybody from that era was under this NEPTUNE-PLUTO influence, and you could infer where a person stands with this CULT OF PERSONALITY ZEITGEIST (be it formed around Hitler or Stalin) from their personal chart.

Erich von Manstein has his Sun in opposition to this aspect, it means his personal ego opposed and despised this cultish shit. But for Model, it is of the strongest support for his Mars, and is also harmonious with his Sun, his ego.

It doesn’t matter if Model knew on a rational level the whole NAZI shtick is a piece of shit, NEPTUNE-PLUTO was a Lovecraftian power, a pitch black Eldritch God that raised from the deepest of abyss of collective madness and lifted his poor little soul up. There is no way that a Pisces Mars could resist a dragon born directly out of that era.

In other words, without the power of this NEPTUNE-PLUTO, Model’s Mars is just a mopey little sad Pisces creature that acts randomly and goes with a messy flow. But with this support, his Mars becomes magical- not necessarily psychic, but magical. This random Mars all of a sudden makes miracles.

Model could notice some random thing on the battlefield, and by this Neptune-Pisces intuition, totally out of nowhere, decides to do something else, and it turns out to be a surprisingly good call. He had to personally run around with his soldiers or else his Mars would not work this magic.

PLUTO sextile Mars alone is a powerful boost, with or without NEPTUNE’S magical touch. Pluto-Mars allows him to simplify the worst conditions down to the ugliest of truth (the kind of horrible truth about the frontline that would give von Brauchitsch heart attacks and von Bock stomach ulcers), and he would not flinch and does not care at all. Oh, the war condition is a total disaster? Nah, Model does not feel a thing, he keeps going. Pluto the Roman god of Hell can drag a person through very cruel conditions, and the native actually loves it.

This chart unfortunately belongs to a sad soul. Model has a Leo Moon in opposition to his friendly, kind, and humanitarian Aquarius Sun. Due to Leo’s nature and its adversarial aspect, this overbearing Moon wants to behave like Sun, and totally beat down this Aquarius Sun and kicks it around, like a tyrannical mother.

Leo signifies AUTHORITY, and Moon is generally one’s feminine mind, archetypal MOTHER figure, ie, “what would lead you back to your mother’s womb of the subconscious, in order to find your deepest comfort zone”. Model finds his comfort zone in “authority”. I cannot explain it better than Asuka’s abusive mother, and how come this bad mother drives Asuka to fight to death in Evangelion’s final scene.

War historians’ often make comments about how Model was a war realist (who sees the whole reality). But, in my opinion, it is more likely that the Pluto-Mars aspect allows him the soul capacity to stare down the ugliest of truth and not flinch.

For this reason and on the ground of reading his chart, I strongly disagree with Thersites the Historian, whose comment I paraphrase here- “Model has been brutal with the Red Army, so he was afraid of being handed over to the Soviets. He figured it was a better option to kill himself.”

In conclusion, when the huge spirit of that ZEITGEIST fell down, that fanatical and deeply disturbing dream of the collective false god died, Model died with it.