#max actually writes

[goose-books]

new maxpoem dropped (transcript under the cut + in alt text)

2:35 grindstone // max franciscovich

there is a knife in my hand.

there is a knife i am holding in the palm of my hand.

i hold it by the blade. when i squeeze the blood runs down through the webbings of my fingers and the sting is hot.

if i uncurl my fingers i will let go of the knife and it will not hurt.

if i let go of the knife i will forget pain. suffering and fear will dull and scab over and my eyes will close. when i squeeze i remember it hurts. i remember i am dangerous. my eyes can close. i can cut with a touch. if i let go of the knife it will not hurt to make a fist. if i let go of the knife i will make a fist. if i let go of the knife in my hand i will forget there is a knife in my hand.

when i squeeze the sting whets my thoughts and i see the world in all its brutal glory and i touch nothing i could ruin.

there is a knife in my hand.

there is a knife i am holding in the palm of my hand.

[cyberels]

later, loser.ᐟ ᯓ★

˗ˋˏ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ˎˊ-

☆ ellie discovers the quickest way to get a girl underneath her

daily click! palestine masterpost

☆: sometimes i start writing without a plot in mind to get myself out of a funk and and and this is what i came up w lol so sorry if it’s doodoo ass

☆ warnings -> mention of blood, injuries, all that good shit that comes with skateboarding, probably really inaccurate skating talk, drugs, tbh probably really bad writing but bare with me here, no concept of stranger danger from reader when she sees a hot girl (ellie) for plot reasons lol

☆ skaterboarder!ellie yayyy she wears glasses because i said so &&&&& also ellie works at a vinyl shop and reader works at a bakery :)

☆ ☆ ellies playlist! ☆ ☆

u don’t have to listen but i made it to listen while i write and i thought it’d be fun to add

my masterlist

ellie was no stranger to making mistakes, she’s human, it happens… however, she usually doesn’t make this many stupid choices within the span of one single hour.

today, ellie was running late.

mistake number one.

she practically flew out of the door and hopped on her board, mumbling a half assed apology to her neighbor who she accidentally shoulder checked on her way out when she put on her headphones.

she’s probably going way too fast, but she’s been skateboarding for years, she can handle it. she still has the penny boards that she started skating on when she was 12 hanging up in her living room, right beside some of her other boards she’s had since then that she’s either destroyed or replaced. she weaved in and out of the people walking practically effortlessly, not caring if she was pissing anyone off, they’d live. she’d never have to see them again, anyways.

she opened her phone to turn on her music.

you, on the other hand, were taking your time; you had a good while until you had to be at work. you’ve created a habit of looking for ladybugs in the bushes outside your apartment complex after you noticed that the plant is home to many of the little insects. usually you just glance at the plant as you pass by, but today, you fully stopped to look.

unfortunately, you were unaware of ellie being just feet away from you.

guess you’re no stranger to mistakes, either.

granted, ellie would have had enough time to stop… if she was paying attention.

which she was not.

mistake number two.

you hear a string of curse words behind you. you barely manage to turn around before you’re pushed into the bushes by a girl who promptly lands on top of you. her skateboard rolled away pathetically. it’s almost like it was embarrassed, too.

if there had been any ladybugs, they were definitely squashed now.

you open your eyes slowly to find the other girl hovering just above you. her necklace dangles temptingly close to your lips as she pushes herself up. she's still on top of you, her face just inches away from yours. she blinks a few times, slowly taking in the situation. she seems lost in thought, the wheels in her head turning painstakingly slowly as she tries to comprehend what's happening and her part in it.

she’s taking way too long to get off of you, though, which only serves to frustrate you more.

“hellooo? can you get up?” you mumble through gritted teeth to the girl above you, turning your head to the side to avoid her gaze.

in hindsight, you probably should’ve asked if she was okay, but right now all you wanted to do was get up and pretend like this never happened.

you don’t even want to know how many people saw you fall.

“oh— oh fuck.” ellie stuttered, taking one last glance at you before she moved herself onto the sidewalk, not finding the strength to stand up fully just yet.

she grabbed her headphones that had been flung off in the impact. small scrapes lined the side of them, but at least they probably still worked. she put them around her neck, letting her head fall back in her hands. she took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her emotions and the situation.

you sigh as you get up, and ellie can tell you’re mad based solely on how the exhale of air sounded.

“uh… you good?” you ask after an uncomfortable pause, eyeing the other girl. it was obvious you didn’t really care, but at least you tried to be polite.

you were still taking your time collecting yourself, brushing leaves out of your hair and wiping blood from your hands onto your jeans (thank god you wore black jeans today). you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow, but other than your scraped up hands, you were fine.

just really pissed off.

ellie looked up at you and then immediately looked back down, running her hands over her face once more. “yeah, i’m… good.”

you roll your eyes as you hold your hand (the one with the least amount of scrapes) out towards ellie, offering to pull her up. you can't help but feel pity as she sits on the sidewalk. not in a sympathizing way, but more of a "damn, this girl looks pathetic" way. she hesitates for a second, but then grabs your hand and smiles weakly.

“thanks.”

as much as you know that this situation partially is your fault, you’re still annoyed. you had spent so long getting ready today just to have some idiot push you into dirt.

when you speak again, your words come out harsher than you intended… not that you minded. “yeah. watch where you’re fucking going next time.”

ouch.

okay, maybe (keyword: maybe) ellie had caused the worst part of this, but she wasn’t going to sit here and take you blatantly being rude when you’re just as much to blame as she is. “maybe if you didn’t think you owned the sidewalk, i wouldn't have ran into you.”

you reach down beside you and grab her, now shattered, phone and her (also shattered) glasses. you raise your eyebrows as you look over the broken screen.

“maybe if you were paying attention.” you pause, wiggling the phone in front of her face. “you would’ve realized i stopped walking.”

she snatched her things back, she didn’t have a comeback for that.

her phone was fucked… usable, but the screen was shattered so badly that if she scrolled on it she’d probably slice open her thumb. small price to pay, she figures.

it’s not like she’s gonna buy a new one… but she would have to cough up the money for new glasses, though. damn it.

“why the hell did you stop walking anyways?”

you hesitate, looking back at the bush sheepishly, vaguely gesturing towards it as you speak again. “i— not that it’s any of your business— i wanted to see if there were any ladybugs on the leaves.”

“…oh.”

well now ellie just feels like a dickhead, because that’s actually really cute. that was not the answer she was expecting.

you continue looking away and ellie sighs, attempting to push past you to grab her skateboard.

mistake number three.

the second she takes a step, she falls into you again, her ankle completely giving out underneath her. you catch her, your arms wrapping around her hips as you hold her up.

ellie has never wanted to die more than she did at this moment.

her face was literally sandwiched in between your chest. she pushed herself back, hopping slightly.

what the fuck just happened?

“oh my fucking god. i’m so sorry. i– oh fuck, this is so awkward.”

yeah, awkward was one word for it. you stare at her blankly for a moment before you kick her skateboard towards her.

you could feel her touch lingering on your body like she was still there. if your hands were just a little lower you would’ve…

“its– it’s fine. dude, are you sure you’re alright?”

you sound more like you care this time, at least.

not that you do care, or anything,

just trying to make sure she wasn’t seriously hurt.

that’s all.

“i’m fine.” it was an obvious lie, but she was preoccupied with thinking about how she was going to skate to and from work if she could barely walk… she’d have to deal with it, she decided. there wasn’t any other option for her right now, she was already late.. “i’ll be fine.”

“very convincing.” you reply, looking her up and down. “you’re not seriously about to get on that thing again, are you?”

“not that it’s any of your business, but i don’t have any other choice, i’m gonna be late to work and this is all i have to get me there.”

you narrow your eyes at her.

no way this girl was reckless and stupid.

“what? you can’t be serious… you’re still going to work? are you an idiot?”

ellie doesn't answer right away, glancing down at her skateboard for a bit. you’re right, she should call out, but she hated the prospect of missing a day of work. money had been tight, even one missed day would be hell for her and her bank account.

“you gonna give me the money i’d lose if i called out?”

you opened your mouth to reply, but she was already flying past you, very clearly having a hard time but also very clearly not caring.

“don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk next time, dumbass!” she yelled, leaving you standing in the same spot just watching her leave.

…and kinda wishing she’d come back.

just so you could get the last word.

when you walk into work, it’s unfortunately obvious that you’re pissed off, if the way your manager immediately asks what happened as soon as you clocked in was anything to go by.

you’re thankful for the excuse to rant, though.

“god, abby, where do i even start? i literally just walked out of my apartment and some girl on a skateboard slammed into me and we both went flying into a stupid plant. got a face full of bush and not even the good kind.”

“jesus,” abby laughed, picking a leaf out of your hair. “was she hot?”

“was she hot? is that seriously all you’re gonna say?”

“...well?”

“i hate you so much… but yeah, she was.” you admit, defeat obvious in your tone. you’re well aware that this would’ve been a lot easier for you if you didn’t find the dumb skater attractive. you’d been close enough to her face to see every detail… her freckles, her eyes, her lips— damn it. you couldn’t get her out of your head.

this felt like a sick joke.

abby clapped her hands together. “this isn’t a completely bad thing! did you get her number?”

“no, abby, i didn’t get her number. i was too busy trying to get her away from me because she was stupid and annoying.”

“you’re no fun, could’ve got yourself a skater girl.” she frowned. “are you okay though?”

“you should’ve led with that question, you know?” you huff, looking at the scrapes on your palms again. “i’m fine.”

“yeah, yeah. i should’ve.” abby tosses a pastry towards you. “here, for your troubles, on the house. go sit down in the break room for a little bit, you look like a mess.”

“gonna ignore the last part. thanks, abs.”

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

“jesus fucking christ.” ellie mumbled to herself, hopping off her board before she opened the door to the small vinyl store she worked at.

“late again, williams— oh. oh wow. you look like shit.” austin, the owner of the shop spoke, nudging ellie as she walked by. he was wearing a stupid smirk on his face which made ellie more aggravated.

asshole.

“real nice.” ellie grumbled, putting up her skateboard and backpack. “sorry for being late, won’t happen again, i just— some people are so stupid, you know?”

“by ‘some people’ do you mean you?” he laughed, spinning on his chair. he mocked the way ellie spoke, doing a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like her.

god, he was a 30 year old man-child, but he pays her… so… whatever. she’ll deal.

“ha-ha. good one.”

“ya gonna tell me what happened or are ya gonna leave me guessin’?”

“what happened is people don’t know how to walk anymore.” she scoffed, taking stock of the money she had to count before putting it in the drawer. “so fucking stupid.”

“by the looks of it you don’t know how to walk anymore, either. you gonna be able to work? i’m not payin’ ya to sit around, so if i need to call someone else in…”

she glared at him, trying to see if he’d explode if she stared hard enough.

he was right though, unfortunately, ellie was walking like she had just learned how to. it wasn’t the worst injury she’s ever got from skateboarding, but it was definitely inconvenient.

“yeah, i’ll be fine.” ellie snapped, shifting her weight to her good foot to avoid making her injury any worse. “jesus christ, it’s a twisted ankle. i’m not missing a limb.”

“but—“

“drop it.”

he put his hands up in mock surrender, the smirk still on his face. “oooookay, okay. whatever you say williams. you were still late though, let’s go back to talkin’ about that. what’s the count at now? is this the fifth or sixth time this month?”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. shit’s hard when you don’t have a car.” ellie sighed, punching in the numbers on her register. “i’ll do better. today was not my fault, though.”

“am i gonna have to be more strict with you? everyone else shows up on time, you know?”

“yeah, yeah. whatever.” ellie rolled her eyes, trying to focus on work and push the pain out of her mind. “everyone else has a car.”

ellie really did not like austin. his whole holier-than-thou attitude irked her to no end.

still, it beat being jobless, so she knew she shouldn’t complain.

“don’t let it happen again.”

“i won’t, i swear. i’m really sorry.”

“right, okay, i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, you alright out here?”

she bit her tongue, holding back a groan.

austin ‘going to the bathroom’ was his way of saying that he’s gonna get really fucking stoned and then sit around and do nothing all day. this was a daily occurrence, at this rate.

“yeah, yeah, i’m good.” ellie mumbled, shoving away the annoyance she felt when he walked past her.

austin was a dickhead, but he was never outright mean, not really. he just… he thought he was better than everyone. a classic ego-centric prick.

as much as she hated him, she did like having a job— and being able to afford a place to sleep at night.

“ohhh, ellie, i gave you more shifts, like you asked.” he said before he walked out, smiling at her. “take a look at the schedule when ya get the chance.”

he has to be kidding.

she’s been begging for more shifts since god knows how long ago, and he decides to give her more now? when she doesn’t even know how she’s gonna be able to make it to work?

amazing. just what she wanted!

“great.” ellie muttered, shooting him a glare even though he was already gone. “more hours that i don’t know how the hell i’m gonna get to.”

she shook her head, austin wasn’t worth getting this pissed about— especially when he did try to do what she asked.

the store was never busy in the morning, so she sat in austins chair, finally taking a second to herself. she went over her options on how this was going to go.

she could have asked dina for a ride, if dina wasn’t off on some work trip about three hours away for the next two weeks, taking her and jesses shared car with her.

terrible timing.

she’d take public transportation if it was reliable and also if she didn’t have a few bad experiences with it already.

that wasn’t really a good option.

uber was definitely not an option. she already was going to have to buy new glasses and eventually pay for her phone to get fixed, she wasn’t about to drop $50 a day on ride.

she was screwed.

nothing was working out for her right now— the universe was laughing at her, just like it always did.

she wanted to kick and scream, but that wouldn’t help anything, plus she wouldn’t be able to kick very well right now.

oh well… she’d be fine, she’d just have to push through it.

her phone buzzed in her pocket and she winced when she seen the cracked screen again, it was so wrecked that it barely let her type in her password.

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

──── ✧《✿》✧ ────

was ellie stupid for agreeing to go out of her way when she was already struggling to walk? yes.

does she care? no.

jesse was a good guy, he’s done a shit ton of favors for her, so this was the least she could do.

she’d never been to the bakery, but she always smelled it when she’d pass by, and it always looked like it’d be good. she did deserve a little treat after the day she had, anyways.

thank you jesse and jesse’s money.

when ellies shift is over, she feels so much worse than she did earlier, and austin repeating that ellie looked like shit over and over again wasn’t helping.

ugh.

“you’re a wreck, williams—“

“—goodbye austin, byeee. i’m leaving, out the door, shifts over. see you tomorrow.” she slammed the door shut, letting out a frustrated sigh as she got on her board again. “god. fuck off.”

the bakery wasn’t far, it was literally right across the street, but it felt like it was miles away to ellie. she leaned on the wall for a second to catch her breath before she walked inside.

it was a cute shop, one of those places you see on pinterest or instagram, with the led light signs and fake plants, it was actually really nice. she doesn’t know why she never came here before.

“let me know if i can help… oh god. it’s you.”

she looks over at you and she starts to wish the fall had just killed her on impact.

“please… pretend like this morning didn’t happen. i don’t want to deal with arguing right now.” ellie sighs, not giving you time to reply to her before she goes into saying her order.

she looked at your name tag as she paid, she could barely see what it said, her eyes squinting slightly as she tried to make out your name.

you scribbled little smiley faces and stars around your name, which was cuter than ellie would like to admit.

“go sit, i’ll bring your stuff to you after i box them, ‘kay?”

“i can wait here.“

“sit.”

“fine.”

she sat at one of the booths, attempting to use her phone without losing a finger. she wasn’t even paying attention to the content, just scrolling mindlessly as the memories of this morning replayed in her mind over and over again.

she was hoping to never see you again.

maybe coming here was a mistake.

“here.” you say after a few moments, placing the boxes on the table. “enjoy.”

you were being kind, but she could read behind the curtness of your tone.

you thought she was dumb. she could always tell by the way you talked to her; that look of disdain on your face.

“thanks.” she said, and then the silence took over again. it was obvious that neither of them wanted to start another conversation after the way the last one ended.

ellie couldn’t help but notice how just scraped up your hands were. you had bandages on them, but the blood that seeped through was bright red, like it was demanding to be looked at.

demanding ellie to feel bad for what she did.

damn it, she really should’ve just paid attention this morning.

would’ve saved her a lot of trouble.

she got up, sucking her teeth and hissing as she shifted her weight. she leaned on the table for balance as a few curse words left her mouth.

“god, you’re the dumbest person i’ve ever met.” you declared, confirming her suspicions.

she scoffed, trying to shake the pain away from her ankle.

man, this sucked.

“shut the hell up.” ellie snapped. “you don’t have to be so snarky, you know? i’m already dealing with the consequences of my shitty morning, you can drop the whole, ‘i’m better than you’ bullshit. if you listened earlier, you’d have known i said that i have no other choice.”

“i did listen, idiot. i don’t mean to sound like i’m trying to be better than you, okay? i’m sorry. but you seriously don’t have anyone that can help you out? do you have friends?”

“i have friends, asshole. they’re just either busy or i don’t want to inconvenience them. what’s it matter to you anyways?”

you don’t really have an answer, you’re not sure why it matters. maybe it’s because ellie looked really miserable, or maybe it’s because it had been partially your fault that she’s hurt… or maybe both. but you couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt about the situation she was in.

“i have a car.”

ellie paused, looking up at you. she wasn’t sure if she heard you correctly, or if this was just some weird, shitty joke.

“okay? congratulations?”

“don’t make me spell it out.” you reply, annoyance clear in your tone. “i’m saying, you’re obviously hurt, and it’s kinda my fault, so… if you needed a ride…”

“no.”

“don’t be stubborn. look, i get it, we’re not on the best terms right now, but i can’t just let you go like this without at least offering, y’know? plus, you seem like you could use the help.”

ellie’s mind was screaming at her to accept— it was logical. you offered a ride, she needs a ride, she should accept your offer.

“i could be a serial killer for all you know. you don’t even know my name.”

“yeah, okay. you? a serial killer? i’d just run away. not like you’d be able to chase after me.”

“hey, i can run pretty damn fast, you know?” ellie hissed. if she wanted, she could definitely chase you down… but she’d rather not do that at the moment. that was probably not a great idea. “hell, i could be an axe murderer.”

“what’s your name?”

“huh?”

“are you dumb?”

“…it’s ellie.”

“‘kay, ellie, now i know your name and if you’re observant— which i doubt but i’m gonna play devils advocate— you know mine. nice to meet you. now we know each other. i’m not gonna sit here and play 21 questions, do you want me to take you to your place or not?”

“what if you kill me anyways?” she asked, she was kidding, she just wanted to piss you off.

“i am not gonna fucking— you know what, you’re annoying. never mind.”

“wait. i’m sorry.”

fuck.

maybe this whole thing about you wasn’t so bad. you were just— abrasive.

she swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. “i’ll take a ride.”

“what’s the magic word?”

“die.” ellie hissed. “you’re not funny.”

“almost! that’s four words. do you want a hint?”

ellie stared at you blankly for a few seconds before answering. “i am not saying please.”

“you just said it.” you grinned. “look, i get off at 6:30, that’s like… 20 minutes from now, if you don’t mind waiting. i’ll come get you when i’m off, sound good?”

“yeah. that sounds good.”

this is such a bad idea.

[peoplesprincessgeorge]

nortrell + txt posts = true

[franeridart]

The Housecat Philosophy - Ep 37

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[ghostly-cabbage]

We need to talk about the worst thing about making AUs....

The fact that then when you inevitably think about crossovers you don't want the crossover with the canon you want it with your specific AU. Your brain worms, your circus, but THEN WHAT?

Oh, yeah, to understand this crossover you need to go read this entirely different fic/series? Girl help 😭 you can't do that

[koinotame]

quick apology fic to xiao for missing his bday </3 which doubles as a character study of xiao and an exploration of how you as the player interact with the self aware characters in self aware au

it’s been a couple of weeks since you last used him.

or has it only been several days? whether it’s days or years, it all feels like the blink of an eye to him. the flow of time is somewhat of a nebulous concept for someone like him, especially since you first appeared.

it doesn’t matter. however long you take to come back, xiao will wait dutifully for you.

he spends most of his time when you’re not making use of him subjugating threats around liyue and fighting off any unwanted foes. perhaps you’ll come back faster if the area is freer of enemies. you’re kind, after all. you seem much happier when it’s peaceful.

lately, when there’s no demons for him to quell, he’s found himself returning to the same spot on wangshu inn’s upper balcony. it’s the spot you always drop him off at before disappearing. it’s not the place at the top of the inn’s roof he’d pick on his own, though you do sometimes take him up there as well.

you’re not actually there, but if he closes his eyes it almost feels like you are.

his birthday was a couple days ago. as usual, the traveller had suggested he write you a letter. as usual, he wasn’t sure what he could possibly convey to you that you would be happy to receive.

the traveller insisted anything from him would make you happy, but xiao doubts that.

it’s easier when you’re here. it’s easier when you’re here and he can submit himself entirely to you and doesn’t have to think for himself.

he’s been dreaming more lately, particularly of you. he doesn’t know what you look like, and after he wakes up he can never quite remember what you looked like in his dreams.

waking up after dreaming of you is always hard for xiao. it’s shameful how badly he wants to go back to dreaming of doing such mundane things with you, and it’s disgraceful how long it takes him to pick himself back up afterwards.

he wonders if you’d like doing dull things like that with someone like him.

he wonders if he deserves that.

probably not.

he left the letter at the railing of that same—your—spot, along with a serving of his almond tofu (he might not like dreaming, but he hopes your dreams are as sweet as his have been lately), some dream solvent (the traveller had mentioned you seemed to want more) and a small bundle of qixing (you frequently go out of your way to collect it).

you never touch it.

…after a couple days, he decided to move the offering to his room. it stays there, on his windowsill where the sun touches it in a way that reminds him of your warmth, untouched.

it doesn’t matter, he tells himself. he’ll wait for you for as long as you want. even if another thousand years pass before you appear again, he’ll continue his duty and wait.

and then he blinks and suddenly finds himself in front of the adventurer’s guild in the court of fontaine.

another blink and he’s back at wangshu inn, this time heading towards the kitchen. the familiar aura of your possession fills him with a warmth he doesn’t think exists outside of you. he zones out for what feels no longer than a couple seconds, and suddenly there’s thirty servings of almond tofu in front of him.

your mood drops.

dissatisfaction seeps through you and into him. something deep in his gut squirms.

you set a large amount of sweet flowers to boil, then seem to fuss with something he can’t quite see or grasp. smiley yanxiao gives him a curious look, but doesn’t (cannot) comment any further.

in another couple of seconds—your teleportation hardly fazed him when you first started using him, let alone now when he’s so used to your presence—he’s in front of the liyuean general goods store. you buy up the entire stock of milk, and only milk.

your mood hasn’t improved. if anything, you seem even more downcast.

the milk dissipates as soon as it’s been bought, safely held in your near infinite storage.

he’s behind mondstadt’s hotel next, jumping down the railing and towards the local general goods store. again, you buy up all the milk. next you head for the good hunter (is that what it’s called? he thinks that’s what the traveller called it some time ago) and purchase as much of their sugar as you can.

tendrils of something truly unpleasant move upwards and wrap around his neck.

he finds himself in wangshu inn’s kitchen again. barely any of the sweet flowers have been processed, but you take the two packs of sugar anyway. you put him to work immediately.

usually, he finds the process of cooking much to tedious and drawn out. with you, he doesn’t mind.

you seem a bit more satisfied this time, and xiao finds himself ashamed of having made a few more of his specialty dish instead of only regular almond tofu like you’d wanted him to.

while you seem a bit happier now, he still finds himself in front of inazuma’s goods store. again, you buy all the milk. you talk to the restaurant owner up the stairs afterwards. some confusion creeps into him through you, but it doesn’t last long.

he’s in sumeru next. more milk makes its way into your inventory, and you visit the local tavern for good measure, though this time you don’t buy anything at all.

exiting the building, you seem to notice there’s a stove just outside of it and walk over in excitement… and straight into the clay oven.

a sharp pang of panic shoots through him and he jerks backwards. it takes him a second to realise it’s your panic.

immediately, you pull the astrologer from mondstadt out and have her set down her little hydro puppet. you then walk him through it, which does absolutely nothing except soak his clothes.

your panic doesn’t subside.

i’m sorry.

he blinks and finds himself in front of dihua marsh’s statue of the seven, the fire and the tinge it brought with it disappearing in seconds.

it’s rare to be able to make out what you’re actually saying as opposed to just feeling your vague emotions and intentions. are you that worried about him not performing up to standard with this little damage?

he’s yours to use. a little singe like that would never hold him back.

you don’t bother with fontaine.

something like shame curls up his body and makes a home near his ears.

soon after, he’s back at the inn’s kitchen again. yanxiao doesn’t even look in his direction this time as he gets back to work under your guidance, making even more almond tofu. he makes sure to take greater care to avoid displeasing you again.

your mood doesn’t pick up this time, but you seem to have calmed down a little. he’s not sure why (or what use you could possibly have for so much almond tofu), but it’s a small comfort.

part of him wishes he could be there with you properly to comfort you, but he knows better.

he might be your formidable weapon, but that’s all he is. he has no false illusions about his role or purpose to you, no matter how much he wishes he could be the one you turn to for comfort. he isn’t suited to something so delicate. he’s accepted that a long time ago.

your dejection doesn’t retract, even as you move him around a bit more.

then you sit him down at a table at the inn’s terrace and pull out a plate of his specialty.

your presence lingers for a bit, envelops him like a gentle dream, then falls through the cracks of his existence and disappears.

happy birthday, xiao.

he wonders if he deserves this much effort from you for something as inconsequential as his birthday.

probably not.

he hopes he’ll dream of this next.

[arkhammaid]

max has always been fascinated by the way the tifosi treat charles. it's fanatical, pure insanity, the way they grasp for him, hands reaching out to touch. and that was before charles won the WDC, way before, even back then when they still had seb in ferrari.

he has seen the jokes, the cursed jesus!charles picture and tifosi kneeling in front of it, he has seen babies handed to charles as if they're asking for a blessing- he has seen many things, which just prove to him how much the tifosi love charles. they love him more than seb, more than schumacher, heck, on some days one might think they love him more than ferrari.

but the insane thing is... charles loves them equally back. he bleeds red, he drives red, he dreams red, he wins red. it's his color, mind, body, heart and soul and the tifosi know it.

their behavior doesn't change when lewis joins ferrari, their favorite is still charles. but it starts to change, when charles beats his ongoing streak of WDCs, claiming his own.

it's then, when max begins to see the true power of tifosi and their belief.

or

tifosi * their belief in charles + a ferrari WDC win (by charles) + a sprinkle of insanity = man turned god charles leclerc

OR

in which i'm too lazy/busy to write a proper lestappen fic worthy of this idea (maybe in the future, maybe i'm opening the docs rn to set up a draft, maybe-) which is very much PJO/greek mythology inspired, based on the idea that gods only have so much power if mortals believe in them. but what if millions of mortals start to actually believe and pray to someone they think is blessed, the predestined, a god to them?

heavily inspired by these infamous pictures and this incredible fanart (and ofc the jesus!charles poster, yk which one i'm talking about...)

[not-equippedforthis]

really love characters who have varied panic responses. kirk stating himself that he does not panic outright, externally, not in high-stress dangerous situations, but instead becomes tense and level like a wound string, on-guard: mostly because his role as captain necessitates that he maintain level rationality even when facing potential death as his training as 'the guy who tells you what to do when shit hits the fan' requires, but also because his childhood experiences taught him early that drowning in the desperate haziness of panic won't help you survive. especially as kirk already follows his intuition so deeply. he learned to grasp and contort the feeling. spock is the main person who represses his emotions, of course, but kirk does it to those deep-set, personal ones (this includes how he doesn't reveal anything truly personal about himself willingly 90% of the time, only what others already know/shallow anecdotes) in a much more subtle way that's really interesting to me. certified expert at avoiding the subject as long as he isnt caught out on the lie. professional bluffer.

in terms of past or parents we dont know much!!! hes known as the heart-on-his-sleeve guy!!! like yes he yells, he gets irritated, excited, hes a whirlwind of quick-thinking and plans and intuition, he goes out of his way to connect with his crew and shows it, when he puts on a little act or bluff he puts his heart into it and clearly enjoys the dramatics so much, at times he wears his heart on his sleeve, he laughs openly and is honest to spock about what he means to him, he's very sun-coded to me in a burning, passionate way, always intertwined with the stars and seeking them out, but when it comes to genuine deep-set turmoil? we dont actually know all that much about him??? hes so full of emotion and character (i love fics where spock characterises jim's mind/bond as a whirl of colour and sensations, hes a quick thinker!!! intuitive!! lively!!!) and yet its still so outwardly surface level. tarsus iv gets mentioned like twice? so especially here where kirk gets briefly jumpscared by the creature, because like:

its subtle but his eyes. his eyesss!!!!! kirk commands with his emotions but there's always some sort of level of control to it, or he transforms them into something that spurs on others or uses them to ascertain a goal: seeing unguarded fear/distress in his eyes even if its faint and brief (in this instance) makes me go insane every single time. like!!! its such a small moment!!! he isnt even panicking!!! really, he just got jumpscared!!! its insignificant!!!!!!! but seeing a two-second flash of actual, naked apprehension is just...oughhh,,,,,,,,,

oh god, and dont even get me started on the galileo seven episode where he assumes a tense level-headedness throughout the whole thing, irritated and apprehensive but not panicking, making sure he maintains intelligent rationality, even when he has to leave them behind, but when spock and the crew are confirmed safe and the bridge is occupied the camera pans to him and his eyes look like they're fucking watering and he's so achingly relieved. don't even talk to me. im. fuck.

he shows so so much but at the same time reveals so little.

[catscidr]

yall holy shit he's finally real (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

one step closer to writing fics about him agsnfgshnfs im Vibrating with excitement. give me his personality so i can write smut. immediately

[goose-books]

goose-books productions: a 2023 review

only [checks watch] two months late! view the image in higher quality here; read past years-in-review here; and thank you as always to my beloved @yvesdot for the template!

i shan't be dishonest; 2023 was not exactly the year of max. but i still got a lot of good writing done! transcripts + commentary under the cut, and, uh, take the godsong character roster again.

cws: animal death (february), pregnancy/miscarriage + body image issues (july), addiction (september), self-harm-as-metaphor (october)

january

what’s that? godsong ran away with me for another year? well, it does that. in the second of a plotted trilogy, anna (roughly: what if aeneas were a very sad lesbian?) and her lieutenants visit a soothsayer. ichari wants to kill for her, btw. anna please let them kill for you,

“Have we got to sacrifice an animal?” Sascha said, tilting his head. “Let you dig around in the entrails?” “If you’d like,” the Sibyl said, upper lip wrinkling. “But I’m haughty enough to believe I can make do with a bit of holy blood. Not you. Annadrijanna, if you would give me your hand.” Anna didn’t move. Her eyes widened, very slightly, as she stared at the hand the Sibyl had extended to her, palm up. Ichari’s hand was on their knife again before they could blink. Damn the gods and Avender’s Sibyl, and damn Anna’s quest, the moment she needed it they could have their blade in the prophet’s throat no matter what holy punishment tumbled down on their heels— “It won’t be like the other,” the Sibyl said, nodding to Anna’s right hand. “I keep my tools clean. Far less messy than entrails.” From their cloak pocket they drew a glinting silver pin, topped with a bead of pearl. “Just a prick, that’s all.” Ichari couldn’t tell if Anna’s chest was rising and falling beneath the robes, or if she had calcified entirely. “Anna,” they said, soft, warning. Almost pleading. Just give me the word, Anna. Just say the word. “You’ve a lot of ghosts clinging to your robes, Annadrijanna,” the Sibyl said softly. “I need a bit of life.”

february

while anna’s doing that, ambergris is causing problems. raised in regency patriarchyville, she recently befriended a dragon and received Powers; now she’s working toward 1. making it seem like her family’s manor is haunted 2. killing her parents and 3. having gay sex. not necessarily in that order.

Blood and yolk still stuck to her hands, gumming the webbing between thumb and forefinger. But it was a pretty picture, the mews desecrated, the falcons gone mad and tearing open their eggs. The duchy would whisper that Pyranimia had forsaken even the birds, that the Armindale fortune was suffocating in broken shells, and no one would consider that it was only nature, that rabbits and snakes and stable cats would swallow down their young if they got hungry. But not here, Ambergris thought, serene, picturing what her mother would say when she learned of the mews—the slight twitch of her mouth before her face settled back into glacial calm. Not you. You wish you could. You’re starving for it. But you won’t be rid of me now. You don’t know that yet. But I hold you in my hands now. If I were really a sorceress, I could twist up your body, ruin the organs that made me, the ones that hurt you. Or I could take them out and let you go free. She could sympathize. Abandoned by the goddess, she too might have withered and waned, and come to loathe the children sapping her strength as they grew inside her body. But her mother had made Ambergris too well for that—too cold to love a child or a husband, too cold to shrink from blood. You took the knife from your chest and put it in mine, Ambergris thought. But the gods have been watching. My god has been watching. The storm is building. And before I ever let you eat me, Mother, I will finish a daughter’s work and drain you dry. She raised her hand to her mouth, where her thumb met her forefinger, and licked away the blood.

march

in the spring i wrote a very long paper about antony and cleopatra (the shakespeare play, and also the people, and also the echoes of their story in the aeneid). which got me thinking about the deliberate narrative parallels between dido and cleopatra, which got me writing a ten-minute play where they have a one-night stand. happens to the best of us. i’m very proud of how this one came out, actually, but i have no idea what to do with it. target audience of weird lesbian classicists?

D: I want to be someone they don’t write tragedies about. C: (to the audience) Well. How charmingly ironic. D: If I could just—have—if I could just—just a life. Just someone who loves me. Just someone who won’t go away. Something boring. Something monotone. I don’t care how good I look burning. I want to stop being on fire. C: You have absolutely no sense of flair. D: I miss my sister. (A pause. She looks to C.) C: Can’t help you there. I had mine killed. D: (exhausted) Happens.

april

fans of the aeneid, please enjoy The Scene In Which The Protag Loses To A Tree. if godsong ever drops i will accept a 10-page double-spaced essay about how it is in conversation with the jason & medea myth.

Anna set his jaw. He braced his wooden hand against the trunk, then stepped up onto the coil and reached for the golden branch. It was slick and cold under his fingers, closer to stone than wood; Anna took hold and yanked. The branch slid from his fingers. Anna grabbed the trunk so he didn’t fall backward, ice jolting up his spine. The serpent hadn’t moved. Again he tried to snap the branch. A whisper of leaves as it bent, but there was no give; again his sweat-damp hand fell away. The word that slipped from his mouth startled him, because it was the sort of word no one used in a temple, something Caradorra had been scolded for saying in front of their mother. Another glance at Sascha. The serpent hadn’t stirred. Anna wiped his hand on his robes, straining up on his toes, and wrapped his hand around the base of the branch. If he could saw at it—but his sword lay gleaming and useless in the grass, his calves starting to ache, the branch warming under his touch. Please, Iv, please, please, please— He ignored the flicker in the corner of his eye: movement from the lakeside. But then came the hiss, rising like steam from the water thrown at the charred walls of a burning city, and his blood ran cold. Breaking from the lake, wet and shimmering, came an enormous frilled head. The second serpent, awake and alert, slitted yellow eyes fixed on Anna. It moved faster than thought—legs bunching, coils rippling, launching itself for the tree. “Sascha, down!” Ichari shouted from the treeline, and the gun went off, louder than godly thunder, and the branch beside Anna burst into splinters, and as he gave a last desperate yank the golden branch snapped cleanly into his hand.

may

while working on the actual plot of godsong, i was also fleshing out the backstory, and ended up stumbling into the personalities of anna’s parents (a t4t4t throuple! let’s go gay people). so here’s a bit of anna backstory from the perspective of his mother, who is wonderful and nervous. did you know anna was chosen for priesthood at age 11? probably had no long-term psychological effect on her at all.

It was a celebration for Eli’s records: three days and three nights of festival feasting, of singing and dancing and hymns, of the temple bells ringing a clangorous echo from dawn until dusk. In past years, after past Ivtouchings, the celebrations had been citywide but quieter, briefer—the ceremonial anointment before the temple doors, to mark the new priest as a new melody in Iv’s living voice, and then a song. But it had been three hundred years since Iv had plucked a child from the rings of Ivander to holiness. No simple ceremony would suffice. On the first day, the older Ivtouched helped Anna atop an oxcart, the horns of each ox wrapped in gold ribbon, and led him in cheering parade through the city’s spiraling roads to the temple. In the street, in the surging shouting crowds that followed on foot, Radi cheered her voice hoarse and tried to etch the picture into her memory: the brilliant blue of the sky, the loose tail of ribbon flapping from one oxhorn, the glint of the sun off the bronze-painted spokes of the cart’s wheels. All of those details she might have set to canvas, with a small enough brush and a steady enough hand. But she knew even then that she wouldn’t try. There was no replicating her son’s smile, so broad it must have ached, or the dazed look of joy in his eyes. As if he were dreaming and praying not to wake. As if some curtain had unveiled before him to show him the heavens in shining vivid color, the world created for him anew. Someone else’s hands would mark him holy; someone else’s hands had dressed him in the dark Ivtouched robes, billowing out behind him in the breeze. He wasn’t quite tall enough. The hem was pinned up so it didn’t drag. Every few minutes atop the cart, Anna’s hand drifted down to hike the fabric up, more twitchy than deliberate, each yank a quiet spear through Radi’s heart.

june

please refer to my february comments on that list of ambergris’s.

Ambergris regarded them coolly. She had pulled them around the back of the orchestra into a corner: curtained from the rest of the room by a clot of musicians, the strings near too loud to speak over, the lanterns throwing warped shadows over the floor. “I apologize,” she said, slow, “if I startled you, Captain. I’d like a word.” Ichari’s heart still pattered at their ribs. Again they forced down the shaking need to wipe that faint smirk from her face. “You’ve had a few. You satisfied yet?” “Y-you’ve met my husband,” Ambergris said, “twice now.” So she had been watching, then, probably sunken into the shadows like a grotesque. “Twice too many times,” they said, curling their lip. “You aren’t impressed.” “Don’t let me offend your wifely sensibilities.” Ichari flashed their wickedest grin to see if she would squirm. “But you’re too pretty to go to waste on an ill-dressed fool’s limp cock.” Ambergris didn’t flinch, but her eyes widened slightly. Big innocent eyes, Sascha’s eyes, with all the guilelessness of a kitten. “Am I?” “Too good for him? I’m sorry you had to find out this way, duchess.” “Not duchess,” Ambergris said, “yet. I find—I know I’m too good. Am I pretty.”

july

more backstory, this time in second person about ambergris’s mother, who gets a POV in the book proper. not a very fun POV, but there's generational trauma to explore. creusa is the doctor that's been called in to help jonquilla through a miscarriage; she is gnc as fuck (jonquilla voice: you're insane).

Four weeks Creusa tends your bedside—four fuzzy weeks drifting in and out of fever, your thoughts racing like loosed horses, as you bleed out the last of your hoped-for heir. You loathe her for it, with a bright-hot intensity you can only grasp for moments at a time between unconsciousnesses. You loathe her for daring to pity you, for helping you sit up to drink down your pain relief; you loathe her for doing it well. You loathe her because she is fresh and young and rosy-cheeked and you are soft and lumpy and pathetic. You loathe her because she is beautiful despite all she does to destroy it, despite the way she prowls the manor in trousers, despite the fact that you have never once seen her suck in her stomach. Beautiful the way you were mere years ago. Beautiful enough to make breath catch when those worn fingers tuck her shorn hair behind her ears. What gives her the right to see you like this? What gives her the right to sprawl out in your home, in your chambers, in all her impropriety? What gives her the right to choose to be—this? Does she have a husband somewhere who lets her run free? Children she tends to with the same slight curve of a smile she gives you? Sisters? Brothers? Who does she fall into bed with at night? You want to step inside her skin, to pry it up, to take her apart and see how her heart beats. She’s had her hands in enough of your blood. You want to hold her organs. Your dreams come in tatters. Your stomach swollen to bursting again. The endless hallways. Dittany soaring away from you. Children squirming in your gut. Creusa stroking your hair. Sometimes those are not dreams, you think; sometimes your eyes flutter open and she is there, patient, quiet, calm. As she always is, except for the crease in her soft rose-petal lips, because when you are asleep she does not smile at you. She watches you as if she is afraid for you. She watches you as if she is guilty of something.  There are other dreams, too. Dreams you refuse to remember.

august

in august i had a Medical Experience. but first i finished the draft of godsong2, because i never fucking lose. this bit is from the very last scene, where no one is doing well.

Most days she shaved her face each day after morningsong, when she had the strength and a passable mirror. In Ivander she had not needed to, but she liked the look of it, the cleanness; in Armindale Manor she had been particularly careful. Sascha must have noticed, or picked it up from her face, because he scrambled wobbling back to his feet. “I’ll fetch a razor, eh?” “Sascha—” Ichari started, but Sascha waved a hand. “I’ll do it, Anna,” he said, earnest. Her twinge of warmth was faint; she inclined her head slightly. They had done something like this before, Sascha scrunching up next to her to wind his fingers through her hair—hair, Anna realized distantly, that was soot-choked and tangled now. He had spun her waves into a thick braid, then a number of tiny ones, chattering all the while; she had repaid him for it once with a spiraling swirl of mehndi across each of his fluttery hands. Now, though, when he held the razor up to her face, there was a new trepidation in the set of his lips. It took Anna too many sticky seconds to realize he was trying and failing to settle the terrible shake in his hands. “Sorry,” he said, blanching, when Anna looked at him. “Ah, I’m sorry, I…” “Armindale,” Ichari said, soft. Gentler than she had ever heard his name in their voice. They held out a palm. “S’okay.” Anna tilted her face toward them. Sascha scooted back to wrap his arms around his knees and watch Ichari sliver the hair from her chin, one hand braced against her cheek, their hands callused and cold and kind.

september

and we've reached the part of the year where school hit me like a Fucking Train. here's some carronash. that is, MILF julius caesar x neopronouns mark antony, in an extremely uneven borderline-religious-worship dynamic that has swallowed the latter's entire life (more about their deal here). you know, out of context here, they almost look sweet.

Ash shut xir eyes so xe wouldn’t see her hear it, and xe croaked, “I need a drink.” Her chest rose and fell beneath xim in silence. Somewhere beyond xir walls, a cart rattled over the streets. “I know,” Ash said, panic starting to rise cold in xir throat. “I know—I know, but it hurts, I need a drink, Julienne, it hurts, I think I’m going to die. I think I might fucking die.” I know you do, she had said the last time xe’d told her xe needed a drink. I know you do. I know you know why it’s a bad idea. And she had kissed xir forehead like an anointment and held xim when xe shook with frustrated sobs. Nothing now. Just her hand combing through xir curls. “Julienne,” Ash said, near a whine, the craving a spidery itch beneath xir skin. “Ash,” Julienne said. “Am I asking too much of you?” It didn’t sound like a condemnation. Xir insides curled anyway. “No,” xe said, small as a scolded child. “No, I just—I just…” “If it’s too much,” she said, soft. “If you can’t bear it. There’s no shame in that.”

october

i posted this poem here, but we’ll see it again! i think it’s kind of heavy-handed, but that's what happens when you try to articulate an insanity.

2:35 grindstone // max franciscovich there is a knife in my hand. there is a knife i am holding in the palm of my hand. i hold it by the blade. when i squeeze the blood runs down through the webbings of my fingers and the sting is hot. if i uncurl my fingers i will let go of the knife and it will not hurt. if i let go of the knife i will forget pain. suffering and fear will dull and scab over and my eyes will close. when i squeeze i remember it hurts. i remember i am dangerous. my eyes can close. i can cut with a touch. if i let go of the knife it will not hurt to make a fist. if i let go of the knife i will make a fist. if i let go of the knife in my hand i will forget there is a knife in my hand. when i squeeze the sting whets my thoughts and i see the world in all its brutal glory and i touch nothing i could ruin. there is a knife in my hand. there is a knife i am holding in the palm of my hand.

november

no nano this year :( i was being crushed by school and mentals, unfortunately. which sucks, because i've had a streak since 2018! but alas. next year. i did write a little more godsongverse backstory, set in anna's old city and starring the book's hector and andromache figures (ira and lucia, respectively; imi and nia are their twin toddlers).

Here was a part of the war that would not be told: that sometimes it would be late, very late, the sun sunken into the earth and the children in bed, before Ira came home. That Imi and Nia were asleep, Lucia suspected, was not an effect but a reason, because sometimes her heart-knit lover was nigh unrecognizable in the doorway, hunched and haggard, bathed in gore, and the twins would have been terrified. Blasphemous, maybe, for Lucia to see the dried blood cracking in rivulets on Ira’s skin and think of Iv’s shattered face. But even blasphemy was better than the other reason she shied from the thought—that likening Ira to the holiest of martyrs felt like giving up. Giving into what she suspected everyone else already thought inevitable. After the first night she had stopped fearing the worst. There would have been no missing the uproar in the city. Her fears were simpler: how much blood there might be, how many times Ira would wake in the night. But unless the wailing rose high enough to shake the temple down, the sixth wall of Ivander stood, and Lucia sat at home with the spinning and waited.

december

and… would you look at that, more godsong. i did write non-godsong things this year! but most of them are short stories i'm hoping to send out for publication, so i'm not keen on sharing yet. this, however, is literally a godsong x hadestown AU that i’ve been calling spadestown, and if i ever finish it i Will be posting it here. in a beautiful alternate world, godsong is an annaspades romcom. (it's not even that in this AU.)

Lying on the bed watching Anna write, Spades said, “You know xim. The queen.” Not an accusation, exactly. But a search for solid ground, an escape from the ice shifting under her. At the desk, Anna tapped the end of his pen against his lips. Distracting lips, unfairly plush. “Yes,” he said after an absent moment. “It is—natural. Xe returns every summer.” “Only here?” “As far back as I remember.” Anna blinked; Spades watched it sink in. “But not where you come from.” Spades shrugged. There were gods where she had come from, too. Not the sort one poured drinks for. “I suppose we can’t all be holy,” she said, reaching out across the narrow span of the room to his chair. Anna took her hand, his skin warm against hers, his pen calluses already familiar—the tip of his second finger, the inside of his third. When she closed her eyes, Ash’s grin flashed behind her lids. Xe must have known who she was. Gods always knew. “Sing it again,” she said, patting the bed beside her. Anna was staring at the page. He hummed another bar under his breath. Spades thought she might have to get up, to close the journal for him, to slip the pen from his hands and kiss him and hope he kissed back instead of dreaming louder. Then Anna said, “Sing what?” Spades tipped his chair back to hear him yelp. “What do you think, dipshit?” “My song?” Anna said, and there was his little winking smile. “Or our wedding hymn?” There was only one bed in the attic room, so they slept curled together. Invariably Spades woke with silky hair in her mouth. Not bad, she figured, for a night always warm.

and that's a wrap! i know i didn't post much this year, but i'm still hard at work at various odds and ends. thank you for sticking around, and i hope everyone reading this has a wonderful 2024!

[beaulesbian]

Rang a few times, then went to busy signal.

[kevindavidday]

allison chronic divorcee until renee confesses and they live happily ever after but this trope is not for the angst...its for the idea of putting the foxes in multiple weddings just andreil watching allison walk down the aisle and going "five months" "i say three" and renee being the only one who's super upset over these weddings but doesn't realize she has a chance (she's the only one who has a chance)

[jounosparticles]

jouno’s eyelashes - a quick analysis

yes im analyzing jouno’s eyelashes. im obsessed with him what can i say.

one thing i’ve noticed throughout my many rereads of jouno’s segments of the manga is that he is actually given eyelashes in a lot of the panels he is present in! often times they’re just thin white lines but they’re definitely there. here are some examples.

now, if we recall back to what harukawa said about eyes a long time ago:

the darker ones eyes are, the more tainted or corrupted a person is. someone who is doing good and/or feeling good may have whiter eyes. to rephrase, one who’s eyes are dark are typically doing something corrupt and/or are in an emotionally bad state. we see this numerous times throughout the manga with many characters, the shade of their eyes changes with their emotion at the time usually.

now what does this have to do with jouno? well, i believe his eyelashes are used to display his intentions since he keeps his eyes closed constantly.

now, there are definitely some exceptions to this. panels where his eyelashes are small could be hard to colour this way, so im looking past a few instances for that purpose.

anyways, i believe looking at his eyelashes in this perspective also hints towards his betrayal of fukuchi, since you can see he has good intent. more on this later.

i'd also like to preface this by reminding you that jouno believed he was in the right with most things he did. he was sure the agency was in the wrong for a long time, times where his lashes were white while dealing with the agency was likely because he believed himself to be doing what is good.

now, starting with his debut in chapter 57, his eyelids are almost completely black as he arrests dazai

his eyelashes appear a bit darker as he torments people i find.

such as shortly after he slices kunikida's notebook and asks tetchou to kill yosano.

one scene i actually want to put a lot of emphasis on here is chapter 78's interaction between jouno and kunikida.

here is his face when he first walks in, he's simply making small talk over how a terrorist attack is awful

we can see his lashes pretty well.

we can also see it well when he's talking about his asian pear. maybe he just really likes them.

however, as the conversation progresses onto tormenting kunikida, his eyelids casually grow darker.

they're not completely black yet, but you can tell he is enjoying bothering kunikida despite his claim of innocence.

after this, you can see his lashes are a little brighter as he announces that yosano is going to be executed.

this makes sense remembering that he is under the belief that yosano is guilty of terrorism and is getting the punishment he believes she deserves.

after this, jouno walks away as kunikida cries out in anger.

his eyelashes are almost completely black here, likely because he is getting nothing but personal enjoyment out of kunikida's grief. he isn't doing good by this and this could definitely be seen as corrupt behaviour.

a huge contrast to what i've been saying falls in chapters 71 and 72, the cafe scenes.

you can see the white of his eyelashes in nearly every panel he's in.

what makes this different than when he was bothering kunikida is that bothering the cafe owner was moving his case forward. he believed he was pursuing justice and doing what is right by extracting important information here; as opposed to doing nothing but mentally torturing someone who isn't improving his case. from his perspective, his actions weren't tainted in anyway except possibly approach, but since he was doing what was right his eyelids were painted white.

another example of this is in chapters 60 and 61, when he is fighting the agency for the first time.

and when the agency escapes and he's surprised to find out the pursued terrorist group would have allies in chapter 62.

i found that these three chapters had a lot of small panels where you couldn't really see the detail of his eyes, but generally they were white as he caught the criminals. they were also white as they escaped, since he was likely confused that people were easily supporting the group he perceived as evil.

my last example of this is his eyes being very white as he tortures the bank robbers in the flashback scenes in chapter 92.5.

he believes that he is seeking justice here. the robber gets what they deserve, and his intentions are what he believes in just which explains his eyes being white.

anyways, to summarize this all: jouno's eyelashes colour often displays his morality. his lashes seem to be coloured more white when he is doing what is morally right from his perspective. even if what he is doing is considered brutal by most, his eyes glow white if it is in pursing of justice or good. in contrast, if what he is doing has no overall benefit and he is just distressing someone for purely his own enjoyment, his eyelids often are coloured much darker.

however, as i said above i believe this subtly hinted at jouno's betrayal of fukuchi.

in chapter 92, we can still see by his eyelashes that he has the right intentions when hunting for the agency.

and towards the end of the chapter we see his eyes still have a small white streak, implying his bluff on actually being willing to switch to the other side. at the same time, the thinness of the lash could be so small because he is lying to his superior as well, which i suppose could also be seen as tainted behaviour.

however, after fukuchi's plan is unraveled we see the brightness shine again.

as i stated above, when he isn't doing what he believes is right or is tormenting people for no reason but his own enjoyment, his eyes look black. but if you look at the image below you can see his eyes are partially coloured white, hinting that he was going to do what was right. it is subtle colouring, i assume that is partially due to the fact that his face was rather small on the page. but regardless it is still noticeable.

and what do we know? he did switch up and betray fukuchi shortly after saying this.

with that in mind, there's one scene i deliberately avoided bringing up until now; the scene i believe heavily tries to avoid hinting at jouno's betrayal of fukuchi. im referring to the scene where jouno confronts aya.

as i said, if jouno is acting corrupt towards someone for his own fun, his eyelids are dark, but if he's doing something that he believes is just his lashes remain partially white. i believe that out of context his eyes would likely be black as he torments aya, however since he secretly had good intention they would have actually been white.

however, the readers had yet to know the context of his approach until the end of chapter 93, so they needed to hide the fact that he may have had good intent here.

so harukawa kept his eyes covered (or coloured his face differently) throughout the scene.

the most we see of his face in this whole scene is his side profile, which is small enough to not need to colour his eyelashes in.

i believe this was an intentional choice to keep the readers from guessing that he was doing something he believes is right here.

anyways, to sum up this segment i believe that jouno's eyelashes in chapter 92-92.5 subtly hinted at the fact that he was indeed siding with aya and was preparing to betray fukuchi.

in conclusion, i believe jouno's eyelashes hint at his true intent a lot. they show that he is a good person hiding behind a facade. the shading of his eyelids is a lot more subtle than how most character's eyes look in the manga, which i believe helps add more to jouno's somewhat moral ambiguity. he is an incredibly well-written character and i can't wait to see more of him!

[adventuringblind]

Catch me because I'd hate to fall

Charles Leclerc x reader

Synopsis: Reader is afraid of heights and a game of truth or dare puts them in the last place they want to be.

Warnings: panic attack, flashback, not proofread (We die like the Ferrari strategists)

Notes: Google translated French, no use of Y/N, Charles is a simp

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Truth or dare is a game for teenagers who are determined to learn eachothers secrets. Or that's what you originally thought.

Racing drivers are not normally the type to sit around on the floor playing games that are used for diabolical purposes. Or that's what you had assumed.

You had been wrong on both.

It's a calm weekend, no races or PR obligations. Max thought it would be nice to have a small get-together with some of the drivers who are currently in Monaco.

Charles thought it sounded like a wonderful idea and convinced you to join him at Max and Kelly's apartment for dinner.

"It this a casual thing? Or do I need to dress up?" You rummaged through drawers looking for something that felt right.

"I think it's casual, but if wanted to wear a ballgown I wouldn't stop you because I'm happy when you're comfortable." Charles days from across the room where he is currently getting dressed.

"What if I wore pajamas?"

"My prior statement still holds true. You are the most beautiful human regardless of what you're wearing." His smile makes a hint of red creep into your cheeks. You've been dating for two years, and he still manages to make you get flustered.

You ended up settling on a pair of jeans and one of your charles' t-shirts. A small dinner with friends didn't call for anything much.

You examine yourself in the mirror, making sure everything looks correct before charles appears behind you. An exaggerated look of amazement crosses his face.

"See! Gorgeous! Beautiful! Completely stole my breath away!"

You spin around and place a quick kiss on his cheek.

When you arrived there were already people there. Lando, Daniel, Pierre, Carlos, zand George (most with their respective significant other).

After a pleasant dinner and a few drinks, everyone found themselves laughing at the dumbest thing while sitting in a circle around the living room.

"I have the most amazing idea!" Daniel practically screamed at everyone. Everyone eyed him nervously as his idea's somtimes were not the most wise. Lando Max makes a gesture for him to continue since his outburst got everyone's attention.

"We should play truth or dare."

You looked at Charles nervously. This game never led to anything good back in your high-school years. But the air of the room made you relax and agree to it.

Before anything could start, shrles leaned into you and whispered "You don't have to play mon amour if you don't want to." His words only reassured you that you would be okay playing.

"You suggested the game you go first," Max pointed at Daniel. "Truth or dare, mate?"

"Dare obviously"

The game went perfectly. Everyone is laughing, doing weird and embarrassing things, and sharing stories.

Until it came back to you.

Lando, who had just finished attempting the alphabet backwards, made eye contact with you.

"Truth or dare?"

You feeling a bit risky decided on "dare."

Lando rubs his chin for a moment. "Okay, I dare you to go up to the roof and recreate that one scene from the titanic with charles."

"You mean the one where they are dangling over the edge of the boat?" Pierre asked.

"Yup! Exactly! All happy and lovey dovey, it'll be so cute!"

It seemed harmless. But the mete mention of the top of the building had your breath caught in your throat.

Charles having noticed this leaned in discreetly once again and whispered "don't feel pressured to do anything you don't want to."

You, however, were terrified of everyone discovering your deathly fear of heights. Charles knew because anytime you got on a plane, it was rough. You used to not be afraid, but after having to jump into the safety of firefighters from twenty stories up in a burning building, things hadn't been the same. Falling had become something that haunted your nightmares.

Regardless, you shook your head and went to get your shoes. Since Max lives close to the top anyways, you decided on the stairs. Only hoping to delay the inevitable for a while.

The top of the stairs came too fast. Having opened the door to soon.

The night air brings you back to the present and reminds you why you were here. You could blame the shaking on the crisp Monaco air, but that would be a lie.

You step onto the roof, everyone shuffling out behind you.

One foot in front of the other, closer to the ledge.

Charles never lets your hand go. "I promise that if you back out I will not laugh and I will not let them say a single thing about." He pauses and turns you to face him. "But if you get on the ledge, then I promise I will not let you fall." His eyes and voice are determined and concentrated. Every ounce of you wanted to just leap into his arms and run away. Yet the other emotion, the pride he has for you for making it this far, makes you push just a little more.

Soon your toes are one step up from the edge. An inch of cement guarding you from what could be a disaster.

Your body shakes, your mind going white at the thought of falling. The feeling of your stomach flipping as you fall to your demise.

Inhale. One foot up. Exhale. The other meets it.

Your eyes screw shut. Your body is practically giving out on you.

Charles stands behind you now. His arms encircle your torso and waist. Tying you down to reality as everything else slips away.

Your eyes open. Then they fall.

It's the same thing. The heat makes you want to take the leap. Into to safe embrace of first responders. When did it get so hot? Why are you sweating so much?

There was no time. The building was about to collapse. They are shouting. Comforting words of encouragement. Maybe you can jump.

Your arms go out to help you balance. Then you lean into the pull of gravity. But you don't budge.

"Amour!"

Charles, why was he in the building with you?

Realization came flooding back through your senses. Charles' arms straining to hold you in place.

"Shift your weight towards me, you can do it." His voice gently coaxing you made you realize the building is safe. There is no fire.

You shift your weight backward and fall in charles. The both of you gracefully find the ground.

Warm tears roll down your cheek as Charles refuses to let you go from his embrace.

"I'm so sorry," you sob.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers.

The night ended quickly after that. Lando apologized for giving you such a dare, and you countered that he didn't know.

Later that night, fast asleep in Charles' arms, your dreams were not haunted by the smell of smoke and your body flipping through the air. Instead, you were meant with Charles holding you upwards to touch the clouds.

[magicalrocketships]

☔

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Oh, I'm sure I've talked about this before but L U C K I L Y I retain zero information, particularly when I'm tired, so this means I get to explain it again.

SO, the plot which I won't ever write because it gets pretty dark and it also requires me to make up an injury (I got the idea from the first series of Chicago Fire, where the dude whose name I've forgotten (no, really, I retain no information anymore) has a life-changing made-up ?neck? injury where he requires surgery and it will take one year+ to recover from the surgery so he self-medicates and then it's miraculously fixed by a dazzling new surgery in one episode after making it an entire plot for an entire season):

Canon divergence somewhere along the way, maybe the pandemic doesn't happen, maybe he never really got as publicly involved in streaming, whatever, but what's key is that Max doesn't have anything really going on outside of racing and it's this year

So Daniel's left RB/Mcl, and Max is focused focused focused on racing and maybe he gets his first world championship a year earlier but whatever happens, he doesn't build that strong sense of home outside of racing (no cats, no partner, no online streaming, just what's becoming an unhealthy focus on racing and winning at all costs)

Then there's an accident. It happens off-track, so it's not a racing incident, and it's not Max's fault. His car gets hit. And Max is injured. He breaks something in his neck (I am assured this injury does not exist in the manner employed by Chicago Fire. For the purpose of this imaginary not-to-be-written fic, it 100% exists).

Max is told he can't race, maybe forever, but likely for at least a year post surgery

(and at this point I'm just going to c&p from the chat fic doc I saved months and months ago, and it's going under a cut with a content warning here for suicidal thoughts, some mention of disordered eating and childhood abuse, look after yourself, pals)

surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story (~3k)

Anyway max realises that he has exactly one (1) thing in his life, racing, and it's just come crashing down and he's v emotionally unhealthy as we know and has nothing else going on so when he loses racing he believes there is literally no other reason to keep going plus he's in hospital

anyway daniel ignores all of max's emotionally unhealthy bans on hospital visitors and sneaks in to see him and he's like... "something is very wrong here"

he leaves and max thinks he's chased him away but then daniel comes back later that day and he's like, "you don't have to have the surgery in this hospital, you can have it done in any of these places *presents a list* so pick a place and we'll go there instead"

so yeah they just go somewhere else and daniel rents them a house and just hangs out with a secretly suicidal max who sees precisely no reason to wake up every morning if he's not racing

and daniel has precisely zero idea that max is still here/alive/whatever just because daniel is there every night and every morning and max doesn't want daniel to have to see him like that

ANYWAY max is very clearly not in a good place and his dad sends him messages telling him how he can improve his recovery and get better faster

it becomes more difficult for max to hide the fact that he's alive mostly by virtue of not being dead right now

and he's had the surgery or whatever and he's looking at a 12 month recovery so he's definitely out for the whole of the next season so daniel's like, "It doesn't matter how long recovery takes, take your time" which of course he has precisely zero idea of how to deal with since he's been racing so long and has nothing else in his life

Something happens idk he breaks a glass and Daniel finds him with cut hands and a piece of glass idk and Daniel's like, "a new crisis! I can help with that! this is clearly not something that max has been dealing with daily for weeks now, it's a new thing!"

so he's like, IT'S THERAPY TIME BABY, no more clutching a handful of broken glass and bleeding everywhere, superdaniel is here to help

yada yada finds max a therapist and max HATES IT, HAAAAATES IT, he's uncomfortable and the therapist makes him feel worse and he still wants to like... not be here if he can't race today, he can't wait a whole year

and daniel asks him how it's going and Max lies because why wouldn't he and he's been doing miserable things his entire life that he didn't want to do so what's another thing on top of everything else

meanwhile Daniel's like... hmmmm this is scary Max looks worse

and he sits in on a therapy session and half way through he's like, "nope, we're ending this, sorry, bye, you can have the money for the whole hour but we're never speaking to you again"

points out to Max that that therapist was awful and why didn't Max just tell him how awful it was and how it made him feel

Max, who's never had a choice over anything in his entire life: "..."

anyway he gets max to try another couple of therapists and in the end there's one who is NOT monstrously awful and does not make Max feel like he wants to scratch his own skin off

so Max gets THERAPY and it becomes clear that max's childhood was weaponised beyond belief and he doesn't even know what foods he likes and doesn't like

because he never got a choice and he was always on some kind of food plan that his dad could withhold or not according to how max was doing in every other area of his life

well of course, he gets a whole year of therapy and it turns out his dad was an abusive asshole and he is BLOCKED from Max's phone

and Max has to do things like "make sure his life has more than just racing in it"

so he reads a book

the first one he's ever read

he tries food and tries to figure out if he likes it or if it's just a source of energy he has to eat anyway

he gets a PLANT

it DIES

anyway whatever he gets therapy and he lives in a house with daniel and is allowed to feel some things because he never really felt anything before

and daniel goes off and does some promo stuff idk and films some shit from the house and max is maybe in the background or something and no one's heard from him in ages and in fandom it's all like MAX IS IN DANIEL'S HOUSE etc

and the drive to survive people get in touch and are like, can we interview you for the series even if you're not on the grid, do some stuff about your recovery etc etc

and max is like... i guess

he's not, like, actively suicidal any more because his life has actual pillars of stuff that isn't just racing

his life isn't just like dependent on one jenga tower of racing with the pieces falling down

like, he can't wait to get back to racing but he's like, six months in to therapy or whatever and he's been living with daniel and it's... nice to just... watch movies with him and eat stuff and play computer games (daniel banned racing games so max has had to... compromise)

and maybe there are some... warm feelings

some best friend shit when he's never had real time for a best friend

some "i could probably spend more time with daniel in a forever kind of a way and not get tired of it" you know

BUT ALSO, daniel blowing up his life for max, he saw max in that hospital room and didn't once question what it would mean to him to step back and just... fuck shit up so that max would be okay

anyway drive to survive team show up and they do a bit of interviewing and it is VERY CLEAR that this isn't a natural fit for an episode because Max has, for once, got some shit to say

so they come back with an idea for a spin off documentary that's just Max and this injury and getting back to driving

because Daniel has kind of been fielding red bull this whole time, saying "he's not racing this year, leave him alone, give him some space", and he's got to go out and talk to them or do some promo stuff with them, whatever, he's going away

Max says the timing is good because he can do the main body of the interviewing about what's come before etc, then Daniel can come back and do his bits

and then the docu team are like, "where do you think you'd be right now if you hadn't crashed" and Max looks at the camera and says, "dead, I think" and the team know they're on to a winner because Max has realised that actually, driving like you don't care if you're alive if you don't win isn't actually okay

anyway Max does the documentary interviews and Daniel comes back and Max tells him he can talk about whatever he wants, it's fine but when the team ask him about helping Max when he realised he wasn't coping, Daniel won't give any details and says it's Max's story to tell and he just wanted to make sure his best friend was okay

not realising that he looks very much in love during this idk

ANYWAY SOME TIME PASSES and they do a bit more documentary stuff and Max is preparing to race again and Daniel is doing some stuff with red bull and he flies out somewhere to do an interview and photoshoot for some magazine or other.

The first clips from the documentary are released and they're on youtube and clipped up for instagram and Max posts them but the first picture is just like, 'this contains discussion of suicidal thoughts' etc

Daniel is preparing for this photoshoot and interview

anyway the first clip is about Max in hospital and they go straight in for the kill, Max saying, "I didn't want to live if I couldn't race.

"I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to speak to anyone, I shouted at the nurses, I just wanted to get somewhere so I could figure out how not to wake up again. And then Daniel walked in.

"He didn't know how bad it was, he didn't know anything specific, but he knew something was wrong and he got me out of there and he brought me here and got my surgery moved. And he didn't know he saved my life that day. He won't know until he sees this. But he saved my life that day."

END OF CLIP ONE, start of clip two

"You were suicidal," the interviewer says

"Yes," Max says. "The only thing that stopped me was that I didn't want Daniel to find me. He'd moved me to a different hospital and he'd rented this place for us so it was close to the doctors, and every day I woke up and he never knew that he kept me alive just by being here."

"But he found out in the end."

"Not how bad it was. Just that it was bad. And he got me help. And when that help didn't work, he got me more help. He's the best friend I've ever had, and I still haven't been able to tell him how bad it got."

end of clip two, start of clip three

except this clip is DANIEL

"I snuck in to see him in hospital. he wasn't doing great. He was kind of lost, and I didn't really know what I could do, but, like, I figured he needed some space so I got him some. Different hospital, different views, nothing to remind him about racing."

"But he was struggling?"

"Yeah," Daniel says. "He struggled. It was hard to see him when he couldn't race. He's my best friend. It was hard when he wasn't doing so well. But he's doing great now."

smile smile etc Daniel being happy

then a final max clip i think

"Do I still have that drive to win? God, yes. I'm going to win. That hasn't changed. I just want to live as well. I want to wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that, and win."

then a final slide with the documentary logo on and some suicide prevention helplines, idk

ANYWAY imagine Daniel, if you will, at a photography studio about to have pictures taken, crying his eyes out in the toilets because he's just found out Max wanted to die

so Daniel, who is always very professional, entirely bails on both the photo shoot and the interview so he can go home because he needs to see max

and Max lent him his plane because that's a normal thing excessively rich world champions have so it's not a fucking nightmare getting back from... wherever the interview is, somewhere not that far away in europe

and Daniel chooses to respond to Max's documentary clips on instagram

[ASIDE, my beloved friend as I was telling her this over Telegram, in response to that above: WHY????

Me: because this is MY 4am hurt comfort fic baby]

so anyway he makes a text post that just says Max is the bravest and best person he knows, he's fought so hard to be here, and that there hasn't been a day in Daniel's whole entire life that would have been better if Max wasn't here on this planet, and he's so glad he stayed

and then another one which is like, if anyone else feels like they don't want to go on, please stay, people love you, here's some helpline numbers etc

and Max just replies to him with a blue heart

important to understand that this is my four am comfort fic so it is ENTIRELY appropriate that Daniel walks through the door and both hugs him and starts to cry

and Max hugs him back but does not cry because Max has broken through a lot of shit in therapy but he is not a crier

but he IS accidentally in love with Daniel

and Max makes some Choices in his life, as Daniel does, but this choice involves touching Daniel's cheek and glancing at his mouth and then up at Daniel and Daniel kind of nodding and then there is a KISS

which is badly timed really considering that today has been very emotional and Daniel is still crying and has been travelling etc and they've never actually addressed any of this

so Daniel needs a moment and he goes into the bathroom to stare manfully into the mirror and wash his hands and face and when he comes out Max doesn't let him say anything, just launches into a multi point in-person powerpoint about how they should be together

[my friend: maxplaining his way into a relationshippp]

which Daniel, it turns out, entirely agrees with, but he's really kind of emotionally burnt out right now and would really just like a hug and a sit down, so he tells Max yes, of course, but could they just talk about it later and hug right now

How good is Max at listening to instuctions to stop talking?

not marvellous it turns out but daniel kind of likes it when max gets enthusiastic about stuff

even if the stuff in this case is a multipoint argument in favour of them being quite gay together

OH OH OH now we skip forward a bit

to when Max is racing again

first or second race out there for red bull

and daniel is kind of tied to red bull again

anyway Max WINS

hurray etc he's a conquering hero with a recovered broken neck

so once he's out of the car idk he's done the bit with the team and he spies daniel and goes over to hug him, which the cameras in general love, and then he goes off to do some kind of next step celebratory thing, cool-down room, whatever

only partway there he's like... um

has a feeling, one or two, you know the kind of thing

max hasn't historically been very good at feelings

or healthy choices

but anyway, he decides to act on this one, which is to go back to where Daniel is, and kiss him

which is as much of a surprise to daniel as it is to the whole of the media who are still around to film him

and then Max just turns back around and heads for the podium, so there's a very nice accidental shot of Daniel, afterwards, just smiling and ducking his head and touching his thumb to his lip

which turns into a very popular gif

for reasons

Anyway!! there is a LOT of discussion about Max losing his edge now his focus is not only racing

the documentary talks a lot about Max's childhood abuse and limited food intake etc etc but doesn't mention his dad by name

Daniel races again somehow but probably not in the fic

daniel ends up losing some bet or other and has to do a computer game live stream from his living room of some cosy game idk and the whole thing is interupted by max just living his life in the background

max getting up and sleepily saying morning, max going for a run and kissing him hello, max going in and out of the sim, idk, the two of them making weird noises at each other because they still do that

OH I forgot they buy a house together like immediately after getting together

somewhere green again and it's in both their names because they've lived together for a year already and whatever

and still don't tell anyone they're together even though red bull has them residing at the same address

and ZERO people realise until after the kiss on screen

and obviously the docu clips suggest they've been staying together

and Max gets to say to Christian that they literally own a house together when he expresses some degree of surprise at kissing in public

not their fault no one noticed

Forgot to say that max and Daniel get filmed driving about and max stalls his car and doesn’t know if he likes olives and maybe they forget they’re being filmed

And also that when the documentary finally airs all its eps Netflix on Twitter are like “lol bet you can’t figure out which bits we filmed after they got together and which were before because we certainly can’t, lol”

And Daniel’s in the comments, like “do I get a prize if I get it right”

He gets 9/10 clips right but no one but max knows

Anyway when they buy their house max has zero shits to give about the decor so daniel just gets a decorator in and the only thing max wants is a fancy catio for when they’re not there and his new cats want to go outside

Daniel arranges this because he’s a sucker for max.

anyway that's general plot of surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story, the end.

[artfartt]

Ok what if summer camp au?