#it's a you problem and you need to sort that shit

[angelofthemornings]

This is something that really interests me. First of all, it's been done in the romance industry for forever. (That's how you get titles like The Billionaire Sheik's Secret American Mistress, you've got the whole setup right there.) (We'll discuss the racism in calling love interests of Middle Eastern descent "sheiks" at a later date.) People who like romance do in fact read them for SPECIFICALLY the tropes and their predictability. This isn't an insult towards the romance novel as a medium, but an acknowledgement that people who read romance novels are doing so for a very specific reason (the comfort of predictability) and are going to seek out situations that turn them on with the assumed knowledge that the plot is going to do the same old XYZ and end up with a HEA (happily ever after) every time. (There's probably a whole master thesis somewhere in how said predictability makes women feel like they're in a safer space to explore desire or whatever, but I'm not the guy to write it. The point is, a romance novel has a mission and is a highly efficient machine. If you don't believe me, ask somebody who's genuinely into romance or pick up something like Romancing the Beat which is about how and why to write a romance novel.)

The *only* problem here is that this is starting to splash over into "normal" books marketed at people who read novels for different reasons. Personally I would read, say, a tragic fable about an emotionally scarred assassin who falls in love with the prince she's supposed to kill, but I don't want to know how it ends, I want some solid worldbuilding and a meaty plot, I want a hint that the woman has emotional depth and isn't a stock character, and I want to know if it's actually going to be a tragic fable or some goofy shit where they go on the run together and bicker the entire time. Some of this is compatible with a romance novel's goals and some of it isn't. If you're trying to catch a more average fantasy fan into your net, just saying "it's enemies to lovers!" does nothing for that demographic. I need a summary and maybe a couple sample pages.

I don't know when or where the wires got crossed, but they did, and marketing other books like they're romance novels doesn't work. For the most part, actual professional advertisers know this and if it's a real ad you can expect the book to be targeted towards romance readers alone, but the people on BookTok trying to get you to read, like...Iron Widow or whatever by doing this are barking up the wrong tree. People who don't read romance novels are also sort of starting to expect this type of advertising for "normal" books without realizing that this form of advertisement was meant for speaking to a different audience. (No, Crime & Punishment does not have any fucking spice!)

(I do have no problem whatsoever when they advertise specifically romances this way. I'm not the target audience for those, not gonna criticize.)

do publishers realize that advertising books using fanfic tropes spoils the experience of reading an original story. stop telling me it’s enemies to lovers and there was only one bed and unrequited love hurt comfort golden retriever black cat timeloop major character death. why do i give a fuck if i don’t know any of the characters and now plus i already know the entire plot of the story. that’s what ao3 is supposed to be for

[captainmiffy]

Erm.. so getting over C.ai reader x Simon Riley 😜😜

As a former victim and abuser of c.ai, that shit kinda rewires ur brain and fucks you over. So how would Si deal with u tryin to get over that shit??

Cw: author hasnt played cod 😞😞, probably ooc Simon, mentioms of c.ai duh, mentions of cheating NONE HAPPENS !!, cuddling, probably shit grammer

- C.ai user!!reader You promised to yourself that you’d quit c.ai once you bagged a man

- C.ai user!!reader I mean if your emotional and romantical needs were being met, why would you ever need a jumbling code and artificial personality to quell your yearning? Oh you sweet sweet summer child..

- C.ai user!!reader Like someone’s starting bot prompt you met the big lovely man, Simon ‘ghost’ Riley!! Seriously we’re you the mc of some ao3??

- C.ai user!!reader Once yall end up bunkering down, becoming official and all that, you decide to delete your account

- C.ai user!!reader It was totally an easy and fun experience :3 the fucking guilt trip they give you about deleting your account had you debilitating and refusing and sobbing for a week

- C.ai user!!reader Who after any slight emotional turmoil or distress would run back to the app store, and make an account, delete it, and then come crawling back once more you could totallyyyy stop whenever you wanted!! (Lie)

- Bf!!simon Who notices how you pull back, how the affection and love always had to be on your terms and never his

- Bf!!simon How you were never making time for him and he was expected to drop everything for you when you came to him

- Bf!!simon Who noticed how secretive you were with your phone, always turning it away from prying eye

- Bf!!simon Who thought you were cheating and confronts you about it, emotions twisting and gutting the both of you

- Former C.ai!!reader When confronted is confused and out of sorts. ‘What do you mean cheating? Im devoted to you.’

- Former C.ai!!reader Your face is flushed and wet with tears, humiliation burning, searing, in which you have to confess about the truth

- Bf!!simon Who is admittedly confused. ‘Generative ai? Love, what the bloody hell does a robot got to do with you cheating?!’

- Bf!!simon Once getting his bearings and understanding, is confused. Why would you need these delusions when you had him right here? You loved him and not it, right?

- Bf!!simon and Former C.ai!!reader Talk about their grievances and struggles

- Bf!!simon Who admits to feeling neglected, an afterthought on the back burner

- Former C.ai!!reader Who confronts their problems and reflects on the reasons they rely so heavily on a sanitized and simulated version of reality to get through the day, making sure to validate and understand the hurt you put your love through

- Former C.ai!!reader Taking it one day at a time, trying to make it harder to get their ‘fix’. Talking to friends and Bf!!simon about their needs and feelings, not having the app store on their home screen, redirecting to other devices and activities to distract from that ever present vice (yall should comment ur strats for quittin if ya have em!!)

- Former C.ai!!reader Who during those moments of weakness and wanting to retreat back to that familiarity, to a place where nothing held consequences nor meaning, reached for Simon Riley and not some digital simulation

- Bf!!simon Who feels happy to know you could rely on him, that you trusted him enough to trust him with something so vulnerable and close to your heart, that he helped you redirect to a better life style

- Bf!!simon and Former C.ai!!reader who cuddle up at night, crickets singing, warmth resting heavy upon them, with Former C.ai!!reader sleeping peacefully knowing that no amalgamation of averages could ever replace this moment

Loeky ths was incredible self indulgent but idc— also srry for any weird characterization of reader,, i havent been on c.ai for nearly a year!! so its difficult to reflect and remember the mindset and habits i had back then.. Also if ur trying to quit c.ai,, I commend you!! Good on it and keep on going, it gets easier :))

[wiseatom]

for @stonathanweek's first round of stonathan sunday prompts!! based on the following: "I thought that was our arrangement now. I get to kiss you and you get to shut me up."

“I thought that this was our arrangement now,” Steve mumbles into Jonathan’s skin, breath hot, words slurred and strung together by the trail of open-mouthed kisses he’s leaving along Jonathan’s jaw. “I get to kiss you,” he continues, and then there’s teeth where Jonathan’s neck meets his shoulder and a hiss coming from his own mouth— “and you get to shut me up.”

That had certainly been the arrangement — not that they’ve ever come to a verbal agreement on it, and that was kind of the point in the first place. The thing is, when the one person who ties you together doesn’t want to talk to either of you, and the only thing you have to talk about is her, not talking at all is usually the best option. If it had been up to Jonathan, back when this all started, not talking would have meant not interacting at all, and of all the things he was losing sleep over, not having to interact with Steve Harrington wouldn’t make the short list, or the long list, or any list at all, really. 

(It hadn’t been up to Jonathan, which didn’t come as a surprise, because nothing Jonathan actually wants is ever up to Jonathan.)

There had been a series of arrangements prior to their current arrangement, and none of them involved Steve until they did. After returning back to a considerably more apocalyptic Hawkins than he’d left it, there hadn’t been any choice other than to stay, and staying meant several things — first, finding a place to stay, their old house long-since sold. After that had been sorted — with Will posted up with Mike in his bedroom, Holly and Nancy sharing so that his mom could take Holly’s room, and Jonathan taking up residence in the basement — everything else seemed to implode, like the universe felt it had to make up for the fact that something in Jonathan’s life fell into place with relative ease. Being in close quarters with Nancy meant the truth about Emerson had nowhere to hide, and despite the fact that it didn’t look like either of them were going to college any time soon, if at all, she’d been mad enough and hurt enough to end it between them. Jonathan didn’t think she’d understand, because she never does, when it comes to things like this, but it still hurt; he also didn’t think it was possible to never see someone you shared a living space with, but Nancy manages fine enough to make it look easy. 

It’d be nice to have someone to talk to about it — or anything — but Argyle had fled back to California the moment the sky had started bleeding red, and Jonathan doesn’t blame him for it. His mom is focused on El and Hopper and Will, always Will, never Jonathan, and he doesn’t blame her for that, either. And Will, who Jonathan knows would listen — who would probably love to listen, who would somehow be able to say exactly what Jonathan needs to hear — has enough going on without Jonathan adding the weight of his own trivial problems for his baby brother to bear. Jonathan doesn’t know how to blame Will for anything, so he doesn’t. 

He does blame Steve. Because Steve is there — always has been, lingering in the edge of his peripheral, and no matter how hard he’s tried, Jonathan has never been able to block him out. He blames Steve, because Steve knows what it’s like to be iced out by Nancy; he blames Steve, because he knows the truth about what’s happening in Hawkins, all of it, without Jonathan having to explain; he blames Steve, because Steve had been the one to find Jonathan sitting on the hood of his car in the high school parking lot as he was burning through the last of the weed Argyle had left behind, and it was Steve who had plucked the joint right out of Jonathan’s fingers and taken a hit, and it was Steve who’d asked him about Nancy and Steve who’d said shit that Jonathan didn’t want to hear and Steve who’d only shut up when Jonathan made him, when kissing Steve to get him to quit seemed like a better idea than decking him. 

It still hadn’t been a good idea, and Jonathan fully expected Steve to deck him instead — but Steve had kissed him back, open-mouthed and filthy and a little mean, and that had been the start of it. He doesn’t think they ever finished that joint, and he knows for a fact they’ve barely spoken a word to each other since then. Come to think of it, he’s pretty sure this is the most Steve has spoken to him in the past two months outside of propositioning him, which is weird, because Jonathan has never spent so much time with someone without really speaking to them before, and he spends a lot of time with Steve. And that, really, is the other thing — it’s really hard to spend so much of your time with someone and not end up caring about them, even if that someone is Steve. 

Because, yes, Steve is there, and he knows, understands what’s going on without Jonathan having to explain, which is why hooking up with him is easy: they don’t have to talk or explain. They already know. 

But Jonathan— well, Jonathan wants to talk to Steve. Jonathan wants to talk and be heard, wants to be heard and be listened to even more, and he thinks Steve might be good at both of those things. After all, he’s silently shown up for Jonathan in other ways — he stares back, a challenge, when Nancy’s eyes are on them any time they have to share the same space; he stays close when they’re on patrol together, like he’s trying to become Jonathan’s shadow; and sometimes, he’ll randomly swing by the Wheeler’s house to pick Jonathan up and just drive him around, no words or funny business, startlingly and uncannily always seeming to know exactly when Jonathan feels like the walls are closing in on him. In terms of physicality, the vibe has shifted entirely, so much so that Jonathan doesn’t even begin to know what to do with it. He doesn’t know when Steve stopped kissing him like he had something to prove, can’t pinpoint when everything they do together started to go soft around the edges, but it’s where they’re at. Even now, with Steve biting kisses into his neck — it’s not a mean thing, meant to hurt, the way it had been when this first started. It’s softer, more controlled, a clear effort being made to make sure it’s good, something Jonathan likes. 

He’s not sure why, but it kind of makes him want to cry. 

“I know,” he finally says, a little breathy. Steve’s hands slip under his shirt, settling on his hips, thumbs tracing circles into his skin, like he’s detected that Jonathan is coming to a conclusion in his head and is trying to give him more evidence to support it. “I just,” he starts, and then stops, because he’s not looking at Steve, but he’s right there — he’s right there, and they don’t talk, and Jonathan is worried that if he tries to, he’ll lose Steve altogether, and Jonathan doesn’t know how much more loss he can handle. 

And then he remembers it’s already the end of the world, and he could die tomorrow, and he doesn’t want to go as quietly as he has lived. 

“Maybe I want a different arrangement,” he manages, addressing the car ceiling. The bravery he felt to ask the question in the first place — do you want to talk, or some variation of it — has since evaporated, gone to become one with the cycled cabin air. His fingers tighten their hold in Steve’s hair, holding him in place when he tries to pull back. “Maybe I want to kiss you without shutting you up.”

There is an excruciating moment where the words hang between them, where Jonathan’s awareness has honed in on the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears and Steve’s breath on his neck and Steve’s hands on his hips.

“Okay,” Steve says, and he doesn’t sound mad or weirded out, and the breath Jonathan didn’t realize he was holding breaks free from his lungs, his shoulders relaxing with it. “Okay,” he repeats, and when he tries to pull back this time, Jonathan lets him, fingers slipping from Steve’s hair. It’s dark, most of the interior lights in the front seat rather than the back, but he can still make out Steve’s face, the earnest way he’s looking at Jonathan. “I can— we can talk, too. Is that what you want?”

Jonathan can’t remember the last time someone has asked him what he wanted. “Yeah,” he says, and to his horror, his voice cracks, right in the middle. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, I—yeah.” Another beat, an uncertain silence, and then: “Is that—okay?”

“Of course that’s okay,” Steve answers instantly. He looks properly upset, like the fact that Jonathan even asked is an affront to him. “Jonathan, I thought you didn’t” —he cuts himself off, looking down to Jonathan’s lips, and then the position they’re in, sprawled all over each other in the backseat, and then meets Jonathan’s eyes again, the rest of his sentence unspoken, but understood— “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t say,” Jonathan says. 

“No, you didn’t,” Steve agrees. He leans forward, kissing him again — uncharacteristically soft, shy, even, before he pulls away completely. He stays close by, though, settles into the seat next to Jonathan, facing him, without being on top of him the way he was. One of his hands returns to his own lap, while the other settles on Jonathan’s knee, a comforting, steady weight through the denim of his jeans. “Alright,” Steve continues, suddenly alert. “What do you want to talk about?”

What Jonathan had thought to be the hard part — asking Steve to talk in the first place — seems easy in the face of Steve’s question now. There’s so much he wants to talk about that he doesn’t know where to begin — about how he’s scared, every single day; how he buried his brother once before, and doesn’t want to do it again. About how his mom keeps throwing herself into danger without any regard of how anyone feels about it, and Jonathan feels a lot about it. He wants to tell Steve that every time they’re patrolling together, he’s started to worry about Steve, too — about how losing Steve is shaping into just as scary of a thought as losing Will or El or his mom, and how badly that scares him. He thinks all of this might be too intense for their first real conversation, and he thinks about how nothing they’ve done in the past two months fits into any definition of normal or conventional, and he thinks that that’s not a bad thing. 

“I don’t know,” he says instead of any of that, because self-preservation is a useful skill for when you’re trying to survive an apocalypse and for when you’re trying not to scare someone away. “I didn’t get that far.”

Steve laughs, languid and easy, his head rolling to the side. “Just—start easy,” he suggests, nudging Jonathan’s leg with his own. “Tell me about something you like.”

“Something I like,” Jonathan echoes. 

“Something you like,” Steve says again, accompanied by a curt nod, sending a fluttering feeling throughout Jonathan’s chest. He thinks that if they make it through this, come out of the end of the world on the other side alive and well, he’d very much like to visit New York, take the camera he knows had the wrong name on the gift tag, and bring Steve, too. “Like— music,” Steve prompts, when Jonathan still hasn’t responded. “I know you like music.”

Jonathan shakes his head with a laugh. “We’ll be here all night if I start talking about music,” he says. 

“Our former arrangement meant that we were going to be here all night anyway,” Steve replies with a wink. Jonthan likes that word – former. “Go ahead — I’m all ears.”

And Jonathan does. 

[syndrossi]

Okay but the comedic potential of the Daemon and Ned duo in Restoration AU is insane.

Ned will 100% have to become the new Hand of the King because he's the only one of the Lords of Westeros that Daemon can have confidence in. And gods this job is going to be difficult.

Not only will Ned have to clean up the mess Robert left behind, but he'll also have to work as a personal psychologist (when Daemon bursts into his office screaming that he's going to kill everyone who pisses him off) and a parenting expert (when Daemon demands his parenting advice).

At first Ned will be afraid that Daemon is Aerys 2.0, but will soon realize that he's just very emotional and dramatic, and as much as he'd like to burn down all the houses involved in the rebellion, the "your sons will rule after you" argument almost always calms Daemon down. I even hope that after many years of working together, some sort of friendship will develop between them.

The one nice thing about Daemon seizing the throne back and having dragons is that it'll be easy to erase a lot of the debt that Robert built up. Lannister debt? Easy, seize Casterly Rock. Debt gone, coin gained. Tyrell debt? That was Robert's problem, and they'll be rewarded with power likely anyway. Faith debt? Daemon couldn't give two shits. Iron Bank debt? For the low price of not having to worry about dragons, that debt will be forgiven, a la Jaehaerys and the Iron Back centuries before.

And given Daemon's grudge against Volantis, he's likely to shake them down for some coin along the way. (Along with a few of the houses that made out well for being allies of Robert's.)

But yes, still lots of headaches for Ned, given how sensitive Daemon is about Rhaegar's death (along with his sorta-grandbabies). While I don't see him jumping to murder for every annoyance, he will need to be talked down from extreme responses at times. Ned would be smart to recruit Baelon and Aemon for assistance there. I like to think that once Jon grows comfortable with Daemon, he's also ready to judge the hell out of his poor decisions with typical teen sass.

[greghatecrimes]

rating the house md cast based on how I think they'd treat me if I showed up at the ER with my rarely-diagnosed mast cell disease*

*=this was supposed to be funny and memey but then i took it too seriously and thought about what it would actually be like irl. based on their canon personalities + behaviors, not real world medical care. inspired by a similar post from @/ditzydiitsi.

(context: mast cell diseases are basically yr body having allergic reactions to things you're not actually allergic to. i end up in the er when i've done everything i can do (except stab myself with an epipen) + am still reacting.)

cuddy: she is so busy. I see her once for two minutes the entire few hours I'm there. she talks to me long enough to prescribe the steroids I need to suppress the reaction and tells the nurses to watch me and keep epinephrine on hand just in case i spontaneously explode into anaphylaxis (which, given mast cell diseases. fair.). she prescribes a different steroid from the one i asked for/that my doctor normally uses, though, and it gives me more side effects. 5/10.

house: only came down to the ER because cuddy told him what my diagnosis is. horrible bedside manner, but he hears my medical history and symptoms and 1) starts DDX-ing and asks if i've ruled out SM (systemic mastocytosis), and 2) immediately blasts me with max dose dexamethasone, pepcid, and benadryl to keep the reaction from going any further. then he orders a bone marrow biopsy (textbook "gold standard" for disproving mastocytosis) once I tell him SM hasn't been fully ruled out in my case. -5 points for the extra procedure & the soreness it would leave me with, but +3 back because he'd take me seriously when i tell him local anesthetic doesn't work on me (EDS things). he'd tell the team to knock me out with propofol when they do the biopsy, no versed sort of shit here. he'd probably want a blood sample so he can do genetic tests/look at my genetic mutations just for funsies, since i have multiple genetic conditions (both with kinda vague/unclear causes), and tbh i'd let him. i leave with steroids, proper pain management post biopsy, and answers. 7.5/10

wilson: only gets given my case because mast cell diseases fall vaguely under hematology (and oncologists usually end up specializing in both hematology & oncology). is incredibly kind to me but is also very busy, and most of my contact is with the nurses. probably also wants a bone marrow biopsy to rule out SM, but gives me a card to call the hospital and schedule one at my convenience. forgets to prescribe me steroids when he discharges me, but remembers an hour too late and then calls them into my pharmacy for me anyways. 7/10

cameron: she's an immunologist. the second i give her my diagnosis, she knows what's going on. she asks me what's worked to control the reactions in the past and gets me exactly that. treats "conservatively" after she ensures i'm not going into active anaphylactic shock (i.e., starts with a slightly smaller dose of steroids instead of hitting me with max dose all at once) and then gives me a second dose when the first one doesn't quite kick it. checks on me every 25 minutes or so and brings me a blanket when she finds me nearly out cold on the bed from the iv benadryl. she squeezes my shoulder when i thank her for it. then she asks if i've ruled out other mast cell diseases and offers me a referral for more testing if i want it. she does take a bit of extra blood to run some diagnostic labwork of her own just in case. finally, she makes sure i'm no longer actively reacting before discharging me, sends me home with a prescription for steroids (and the referral), and tells me to come back right away if the reaction comes back or if a new one starts. 10/10.

foreman: takes longer to get to me than i'd like. when i finally get to talk to him and explain the current problem, my history, and my diagnoses, he raises his eyebrows in surprise and asks "are you sure? i've only seen a single case of [your disorder here] in all the time i've been practicing medicine." I pull the paperwork with my genetic test results out of my bag for proof, and after he sees the confirmation he apologizes and takes me seriously. it takes a few hours before i see him again, but when i do, he discharges me with a prescription for tapering steroids for the next few days without me needing to ask. 6.5/10.

chase: is genuinely shocked by my diagnosis but takes me seriously once i show him the papers. probably ends up giving me a different steroid from what i asked for/what my doctor uses, though, like cuddy did. i see him more than foreman and cuddy, but less than cameron. sends me home with multiple-day-steroids but they're the wrong kind that aren't tapering and that give me more side effects. overall average. 5.5/10. +1 point for comphet if he's got the long hair.

thirteen: as soon as she hears i have chronic genetic conditions & sees my age on the chart, she's all in. she sympathizes and empathizes with me, but won't tell me why. starts with small doses of steroids + benadryl + pepcid and stays in my room with an epipen to monitor me herself. asks if i have an internist managing my case (i do, but lord knows she'd offer to be mine herself if i'd said no, since internal medicine is her specialty) and makes sure i'm getting proper care outside the hospital. when the reaction doesn't stop after the first round of meds, she gives me the second round and then stays and chats with me to distract me from my anxiety. we end up talking about my wife and i (GAY), she listens to me vent about my backstory, and i show her pictures of my cats. she keeps me longer than anyone else would have, save for cameron, out of an abundance of caution, and stays past the end of her shift to do so. when she discharges me, she sends me home with the tapering steroid prescription i need and with her name and work phone number. she'd tell me to call her if i ever needed a second opinion or a new internist to manage my case. 10/10.

kutner: when he hears my diagnosis, his first reaction is "cool." immediately asks me what's worked in the past, gets my preferred meds on board, and then stays for a few minutes to ask me about my medical history because he thinks it's super fascinating. says yes when i ask him if he wants to see a trick after i mention being hypermobile (i stand up from the bed and both my hips crack loudly + at the same time. then i touch both palms flat to the floor with zero struggle), and he only winces a little at my hips cracking. we chat a little while he monitors to make sure i'm not gonna die of anaphylaxis and we end up talking about fun nerdy stuff, like video games. i show him my cat pictures and he shows me cool animal pics he has saved too. mostly turtles, geckos, etc. 7.5/10.

taub: passes my case to kutner before he even sees me. his shift is almost over and he has a date with a hot nurse from gen surg he's not going to miss. 2/10. he gets two points for giving my case to kutner specifically.

[writteninthesewalls28]

Love is a stranger

Chapter 1

Based on „Call your mom“ by Noah Kahan

Chloe Baker, unpublished romance author who tries to escape her past day by day meets Lando Norris at a friends birthday party and immediately feels something. But their love is not supposed to be, there is a rough path ahead of them, filled with hidden secrets and long-lasting trauma. Is their love strong enough?

A/n: The first chapter is here, not completely happy with this, but it doesn‘t matter… anyways. Feedback is always appreciated.

Warnings: low self-esteem, further into the series also talks of depression, panic/anxiety attacks, just general angst

Taglist: @landofotographyy @nickie-amore

"Love is a stranger" series Masterlist

It is supposed to be a little gathering. „Nothing too big, you know I don‘t like it crowded.“ The words of my friend replay in my head as I stand in the living room of her little house in the countryside of England. I cling to my glass of water in my hands and watch all the other people having fun and chatting to one another while I just stand there. 

Anna invited around 20 people. She calls that a small gathering, I call it a party with at least 10 too many people. 

Sometimes I wonder why us two even get along because of how different we are. 

She begged me to come, said it would be a good opportunity for me to go out again and meet new people, said that I would not have to worry about any old friend being there since she herself does not want to have any sort of public birthday party anyways. Not after everything that has happened. 

She did not need to add with you, it silently followed her words through the look in her eyes that made my heart clench and my stomach feel even heavier in my body like it does anyways. 

I am the problem, I am very well aware of that. 

I step outside the house and welcome the fresh air hitting my bare skin underneath my tight dress. I feel trapped inside of my own body, my own thoughts. And sometimes all it needs is a little time for my own in the nature, listening to the sound of the birds. 

Anna put out a couple of garden furniture and I let myself sink into one of the sofas, softly exhaling when I felt my back slowly resting against the comfortable material. Just at one glance one could see how much effort my friend put into this small party, even arranging a little fireplace in the garden that I only notice once I step outside. 

I silently wonder why no one else is out here when it is so damn relaxing to watch the sunset with the soft noise of the bright flame right in front of you.

At the same time I am glad that I can have this place all for myself, not getting drained by another meaningless small talk or constantly having to think about my posture, my outfit, my body language. Simply just being. No expectations. No rules. 

Anna has always respected my boundaries. She never understood them though, how could she? No one does. 

Showing up to this party is my way of showing that I care. 

I feel bad that I am not able to stay invested in this gathering, talk to a few more people, present myself. 

But I am so tired. Tired of this. Of life.

I close my eyes, lie my head back. Allow my thoughts to quiet down, to let me be. 

Until somebody decides to ruin that silence by exiting the house and stepping into the garden. I hear the footsteps echoeing on the wooden floor beneath and slowly open my eyes. I turn my head ever so slightly and glance at a man around my age that I have only seen from afar tonight. 

Everytime I saw him, he was surrounded by other women who talked eagerly at him, but I don‘t think he was even listening to any of them. 

The black clothes on him seem uncomfortable and the soft smile on his lips reminds me of my moms look on her face when she was trying to get me out of bed when I only had been 15 years old and already realized how shit life was. 

I look away again, focus on the bonfire in front of me and try to not think about this guy next to me anymore. I feel the sofa shifting under his weight as he surprisingly sits down next to me, but I keep my gaze focused on anything but him. 

I know I should be doing better, I should be talking to him, playing the role I am always supposed to play when other people are around.

But his presence doesn‘t give me the urge to fill the silence. We are just two strangers sitting next to each other, enjoying the fire. 

Until he breaks the silence with his soft voice that I immediately feel addicted to in the weirdest way. 

„You don‘t like small talk?“ His words aren‘t offensive, instead he seems seriously interested. Like he actually cares about who I am besides the brown hair and green dress.

„Sometimes I am just tired of trying to be someone I could never be. So I just don‘t do it.“ 

„That‘s… very honest.“ 

A faint smile covers my face. „And that‘s what people say when they don‘t like my answer.“ Millions of moments race through my mind as I think about all the times people said these words to me. 

„Fair.“ I feel his gaze resting on me, travelling over my body whilst I still don‘t look at him. I can‘t resist the urge any longer and turn my head, just to be met with the worlds bluest eyes I have ever seen. His dark curls are perfectly styled and I know for a fact that he definitely didn‘t do that hairstyle himself.

A moment of silence sweeps through this interaction as we both stare at each other mindlessly without a single care in the world. 

I don‘t think I have ever met a man like him before. He just sits there, not expecting anything from me, but having a look in his eyes as if he admires me from the bottom of his heart. 

You wrote too many romance novels. 

Yes, I wrote them because I didn‘t believe this sort of love could even exist. Because I needed something to cling to so I wouldn‘t turn insane. 

„Are you famous or something?“ I ask, the words leaving my mouth before I can think about it again.

He nods. „I guess you could say that.“ His eyes trail off into the distance and I see something truly hurt in his face. 

„That must be exhausting.“ 

„Yeah. It is.“ He looks into the flames of the bonfire, the smile on his lips fades with every word a little more and I get scared. Because this stranger weirdly means something to me. 

For the rest of the night, we don’t speak. But we don‘t leave, either. We just sit there quietly next to each other, watching the sunset and listening to the wood cracking. Together, but still alone. 

————————

I leave late that night. Later than I thought I would when I just arrived at the party. 

When I say goodbye to Anna and hug her, I catch the guy from outside looking at me again and for a minute, I feel tempted to ask Anna for his name, but in the last second decide against it. 

He deserves someone better than my broken soul. 

I try to stick by that thought the days after the party but fail miserably. Somehow, these blue eyes don‘t seem to leave my mind and I would give it my everything to only stare at them once again. 

The days go by, I follow my daily routine, going to work in the publishing house I work at in the central of London as an editor and late at night trying to write another romance novel that I know is not going to get published, just like the other five manuscripts that sit in my drafts. 

But somehow, my thoughts trail off every once in a while, remembering the quiet night by the bonfire and when I think about the stranger‘s voice, I get goosebumps all over my entire body. 

The thought of what could‘ve been makes me feel better in the mornings when I don‘t want to get up. When I don‘t know how I am supposed to be able to brush my teeth or get dressed. In the silent moments of struggle that over all these years start to feel normal, fake scenarios have always helped, but they have never been as real as they are right now because there is a face that somehow ends up in every single one of them. 

Until it isn‘t fake anymore. 

Until I sit at my desk one evening, deeply focused on the scene that I am trying to write, when I receive an instagram notification all of a sudden. 

I get scared for a minute. I never get any DMs. Slowly, I take the phone into my hand and I believe that it suddenly weighs a lot heavier than it does normally.

I stare at the screen, at the notification and forget how to function normally, before I am finally able to open Instagram. I click through the app as if it is my first time using it even if I have already used it for quite a while now to advertise my unpublished books. 

And when I find my way to the messages, my hand freezes as I look at the picture of the account that sent the message.

The guy from the bonfire. 

It doesn‘t take me an eternity to recognise his face, I would have been able to tell these curls apart everywhere. 

“Lando“ is what the account says and I remember his answer to my question if he is famous. I guess you could say that. Who is that man? 

Before opening the message, I take a deep breath. How did he find me on here? I didn‘t tell him my name or anything else about me. 

My fingers shake a little as I open the chat and find myself looking at a voice note. A voice note. 

I am going to hear his voice again. 

This time without much hesitation, I click on the Play-Button and the soft tone of his voice fills the air. It feels intimate, like this totally should not be happening to me right now. 

“Hey, stranger. Or… Chloe. Before you freak out, I asked Anna to tell me your name, I am not some creepy stalker or anything. Please believe me.“ It is hard for me to follow the next part of the message when mentally I am still not over how beautiful my name sounded coming out of his mouth. „Um… I don‘t really know why I am doing this to be honest.“ A quiet laugh escapes his throat and even though I cannot see him, I imagine his soft smile in front of my inner eye. „I guess I just wanted to say that I really liked meeting you the other day. And that I find you a lovely person.“ My heart starts beating in an unsteady rhythm and silence fills the air as if he is trying to think about another thing to say. „Bye, Chloe. Hope we meet again someday!“ He ends the voice note. 

I don‘t know what to think, I cannot believe what I just heard. He thinks I am lovely? And he wants to meet me again? 

I must be dreaming. Such a wonderful man, a man who could have every woman he wants, is interested in me?

I feel flattered, who wouldn‘t? But I am also very well aware that I don‘t deserve him. Because I always end up as the problem, it has always been like that and will never change. 

Just because this feels like a dream come true, I can‘t forget about all the times that history has repeated itself.

I am too broken to be loved by him. 

————————

I don‘t answer. 

I catch myself thinking about him more often than I should, but I don‘t answer. 

I don‘t even contact Anna to angrily ask her why she would talk about me with a stranger. 

I guess I am too scared of what I really think of him and that makes it impossible for me to write an answer, even when it is the thing I want most. 

Two days after I got the voice note, in a moment created by unexpected bravery, I record a message to send back to him. 

Only one try, no second thoughts. I just do what my heart tells me to do, something that normally doesn’t happen to me. Not after all that happened. 

But with Lando, everything has been different so far.

“Hello to you too, stranger. To be honest, I thought I wouldn‘t answer this. But I guess that wouldn‘t be fair to you. Meeting you that day was unexpected, not in a bad way though. I don‘t do well at parties, but you changed that a little for me. So.. uhm… Yeah. Just wanted to say thank you for being there. I‘d like to see you again, too. Someday. Maybe.“ 

I stop the recording and click the Send-Button before I listen to it again. I hate hearing my voice on tape and I know if I would allow myself to hesitate, I would never even send it in the first place. 

I take a deep breath, stare at our chat and remember that I can check out his social media and find out what for a celebrity he is. 

The first picture I see when I click on his profile shows him in an orange-colored suit that looks like it is made for racing and a neon-yellow helmet with weird symbols on it. 

I skim over his profile, the amount of followers and only then my gaze finds the words written in his bio.

Race cars in Formula 1 with @McLaren 

An F1 driver?

I never really had any contact with the motorsport world in general, but I noticed the F1 genre getting more and more sales on the book market in the New Adult section and considered buying one of these books, just for fun. 

I scroll through his Instagram a little longer, catch myself looking at some of the pictures in more detail than I should and every smile of his sends a wave of goosebumps over my body and something in my stomach twirls around. 

And still, I think it maybe wasn‘t the right decision to answer him. I only cause problems wherever I go. Sooner or later, he will realise that I am too much, just like everybody else. If I let him close to me, he will let me fall again and I really really can‘t go through this again. 

But there is this connection, I felt it at the party and I even feel it now. There is something between us that I can‘t ignore. That I don‘t want to ignore. One last time, I am going to get my heart broken and then I‘ll know that the concept of love is not for me. 

But I just need to know.

[hylianengineer]

I am realizing, after the fiasco that was my rheumatology appointment, that I have way worse medical trauma than I realized. Like, this shit is taking over my life.

I don't know how to even begin to deal with it, though, because the usual advice for trauma is 'just go to therapy! :)' and I have specific therapy-related trauma. It's a mess. I'm also intimately aware that contrary to popular belief, therapy does not fix everything, or work for everyone.

Especially not CBT which is the kind almost every therapist does. I need, I dunno, DBT or something else different. CBT already stopped working for me.

Honestly what I really need is a doctor who will listen to me and prove my stupid traumatized fears wrong about how no one in healthcare ever listens to me or cares about me or tries to help, but I can't really ask for that because dealing with my traumatized disaster of a self is not in their job description. I've been really tempted to look for a trauma-informed PCP but unforutnately I desperately need someone who can handle my chronic pain and I think if I tried to work with someone else it'd just get worse. My current PCP isn't even good about it, just the best I'm likely to get. My mom recommended him because she's spent years trying to find anyone she could work with about her pain and everyone else was worse.

I need to talk to my psychiatrist I think. She might have ideas about if therapy would help or what type or other things I could try. I'm also a bit uncertain that I'm allowed to call her office and go 'I need to move up my next appointment no I don't need you to change my meds I need to talk about this problem with the only person I trust who has relevant expertise.' She's not my therapist. That's not her job. But... I think she'd help anyway. Helping me find a therapist is at least sort of maybe related to her job description?

I think that's part of my trauma, honestly. This thing where I can't ask people for things and then I don't get what I need because I don't ask.

I look back at that rheumatology appointment and the days afterward and I can see how triggered I was, how it warped my interpretation of the situation into assuming the worst of everyone involved. It was probably mostly miscommunication rather than actual hostility, in hindsight. I'm also quite certain I was experiencing PMDD symptoms at the time which did NOT help, but it's not like this is the first time I've been triggered like this. The worst, yes, but not the first.

It's also really hard though to know what the right amount of grace I should give people about this stuff because I have a long history of behaving like a doormat. How do I not behave like a doormat and also not assume the worst of everyone? I don't know.

How much does it matter if no one meant to hurt me, when they very much did and continue to do so? When it happens nearly every medical appointment I ever have, and nothing I can do seems to make it better. How the hell do I deal with that?

[extremely-judgemental]

Always fun to come across 'her sisters owe everything to Feyre' content. What kind of relationships do y'all have in life that you 'owe' something to others lol? There isn't supposed to be any owing. The moment you 'owe' anyone, there is a clear power imbalance and it means the one who is 'owed' is exploitative.

[raylazuko]

New headcanon.

That Diluc and Crepus are alike in a lot of ways and I get the impression that Crepus also lived vicariously through Diluc in terms of “I couldn’t be a knight so you go do that” even if he may have had some reservations with the Knights himself but wouldn’t wanna alienate them because of his kids or because of business reasons.

That Crepus and Varka have a begrudging mutual respect for each other but do not agree with each other’s tactics.

Crepus, like later Diluc, finds the knights inefficient. That he was working to bring down the Fatui in his own way secretly. There is some underground vigilante anti-Fatui group that Diluc later joined because he has contacts in Mond when he gets back.

Diluc is a kid and delluded into thinking the Knights are perfect and Crepus doesn’t wanna crush his dreams.

Then reality happens.

That Diluc has noticed some corruption already and has his reservations and annoyances. That that night was his final straw. That he’s relieved to be out of the Knights but feels like he let his father down but also has a weird feeling that he did the right thing by him.

And that he later learns more about the underground efforts and just how stupid the knights are being and that diplomacy doesn’t solve everything.

But he doesn’t wanna alienate them too much because of his begrudging respect for Kaeya.

And also he’s annoyed and slightly jealous that Kaeya took his position.

He secretly wishes Kaeya would leave but if he told Kaeya everything he knows it would destroy him. Or he just wouldn’t listen.

Or that Kaeya does know and wants to change things from the inside.

Or he stays because he thinks that’s what Crepus wanted and actually sees Diluc as disrespecting their father’s wishes.

Or Kaeya stays because the knights treated HIM well, and he doesn’t have any other family left. They ARE his family. His dad abandoned him and he doesn’t know where his mom is (if shes alive). If he has other siblings they’re probably working for the Order. His adoptive dad died and his adoptive brother views him as a pushover for staying perhaps.) Let’s also not forget that Kaeya was probably pressured into doing whatever he was forced to do as a kid as being an heir to the Abyss Order basically. He probably doesn’t know HOW to say no or stand up against institutional injustice. Anything is better than where he came from. So he mostly just distances himself from the Knights by hunting treasure hoarders for fun and gathering intel because his position is literally useless.

I also think Jean’s hands are tied because she’s also barely legal and has too much pressure and is probably going off some some handbook and can’t reorganize things too much to not piss of Varka when he gets back. Plus they’re short-staffed. It’s very likely Varka groomed Jean in some way to succeed him and just put way too much pressure on this kid so now all she knows is how to work. Yeah I don’t like Varka lol.

For Kaeya it’s like “don’t bite the hand that feeds”. Kaeya leaving the knights would lose him EVERYTHING and he cannot risk that. There’s also a real chance that Varka knows about his past and if he leaves, he would become a target due to him being potentially dangerous.

It’s just a big mess all around and Ragbros+Jean are dysfunctional adults that had unrealistic pressures put on them as kids.

[fappellmoan]

and ok! maybe i hate answering the sex life questions like girllll its lacking 😩😵‍💫 ‘nothing but your hand’ and a vibrator is not cutting it but ughhhhhh everything sucks and i’m back in my hometown like who’s even gay here. 😐🫤but lets not linger on that! ok but also i dont wanna talk about drinking or drugs either. ive been trying to work out more a little bit i took i nice long walk today and have been trying to do some richard simmons workouts its so like. ok come on movement! 😻 my body deserves to feel good… sleep is never gonna be a strong point but in my defense i’m not trying to limit the screen time that much and i love to sleep and nap during the day. cause im inexplicably exhausted all the time …. and well i don’t like to lie to the doctor like they need to know what’s going on 🙄 and yes i stopped taking that new medication cause it sucked badly

[clumsypuppy]

adhd comix

[trannybeatrice]

i hope tumblr user soundgarden dies

[prince-of-goths]

bitches be like 'uhm, men aren't policed for their feelings' and then belittle them for their feelings and whine about men opening up to them

[arolesbianism]

It's so miserable making side characters for a story and getting attached because now not only are you obsessed with a guy that only exists in your head even if they existed out of your head they'd still be basically just in your head. Like no you guys have to trust me they're so deep and intricate no none of this stuff ever comes up you just have to believe me and like them as much as I do

[rawliverandgoronspice]

oh nooooo not me forgetting to not go on zelda youtube and being forced to reckon with the sheer magnitude of its fanbase's unchecked racism

[thelovers-thedreamers-and-me]

the downside to being a sitcom neighbour sort of person is that when rough things happen and emotionally fuck u up a lil bit, it also sounds completely made up