#newton likes his girls tall

[sea-owl]

@animelover4157

Here's their prompt!

I have always had an idea where Colin’s biggest threat for grabbing Penelope’s attention isn’t a suitor or Eloise.

No no no.

Colin’s biggest threat and nuisance is that he consistently have to fight a big ass dog (like a mastiff, cane corso, Saint Bernard, etc) that Penelope somehow convinced her mom to keep while in the countryside and is the very definition of a Velcro dog. It growls at any potential suitor that shows an interest in Penelope (it’s the reason why She doesn’t have suitors but Penelope is not aware of that).

For Colin, it does something worse. In the rare chance, that it is not next to Penelope, it will purposely move itself right next to/on top of Penelope so Colin cannot sit anywhere near her while it stares him down. This causes to Colin and the dog to race and wrestle one another to get to Penelope’s side with Colin losing 80% of the time and him glaring it down. Penelope thinks that they are playing and are getting along but is completely oblivious of the actual situation.

Tiny woman with a big ass dog. Classic.

Here's what I'm thinking.

So the Featheringtons were out in Ireland to visit Portia's brother, Mr. Finn Carroll, and his family. During their family visit one of the cousins introduced Penelope to the puppies their dog recently had. One of those puppies became attached to Penelope.

"Aw Portia look at that Penelope made a friend!" Finn said as he slid up next to his big sister.

"No," Portia immediately said.

Finn fully looked at Portia. "No?"

"No," Portia repeated. "Finn, I do not need a dog in my house."

"Oh, come on, Porshie!" Finn said, pulling out his puppy eyes and the childhood nickname. Tricks with a proven track record for him on getting what he wanted from his sister. "Let my niece have a puppy! You're already taking away her title as baby of the family!"

Portia sighed, rubbing her pregnant belly. "Finn, I am not dumb. We were both raised with an Irish Wolfhound. That dog will most likely get bigger than Penelope, and they're made for hunting large prey!"

"Yes, but you also know they make great companions!" Finn argued. "And doesn't Penelope need a friend?"

Portia will later blame her pregnancy brain, but when the Featheringtons went home, they brought a new puppy named Artemis with them.

Well, much like the goddess she was named after Artemis was a girl's dog and hated most men. She tolerated a few like the male staff, and she tolerated Lord Featherington on a good day. But most of the time, she stayed by Penelope's side.

"It is like she is sewn to your side," Felicity commented once as Artemis laid across both her and Penelope's laps.

Penelope laughs. "She just loves me."

Artemis barked in agreement.

At her full-grown height, Artemis was about the size of a small pony and was taller than any lord Penelope had ever seen if she stood on her hind legs. Artemis faithfully sticks by Penelope's side despite Portia's groans of dog hair in Penelope's dresses. Penelope only giggles when Artemis's response is to fully lay on her.

Artemis loves her life with Penelope and would only really change one thing. One tiny annoyance in her life.

That damn Colin Bridgerton. He's trying to take Penelope away from her! And he doesn't leave when she growls at him like the other men! He even growled back at her once!

The fool tries to race her too on the rare times she is not in her rightful place by Penelope's side. Why the fool thinks he'll win against her, she'll never know.

Today just so happened to be one of those days. Artemis was out in the park with her family. She was playing with Felicity and Penelope. The two girls throwing a ball attached to a string and having Artemis chase after it.

Artemis sniffed the air and stopped. She smelled Bridgertons. Looking around she spotted the family. Now the Bridgertons themselves weren't a bad thing, a few in particular she could do without and one wished was never around.

Well, it looks like today won't be the day Artemis's wish comes true. Just as she spots Colin Bridgerton he spots her as well. They stare at each other for a moment before both take off towards Penelope.

Artemis stared smugly at the Bridgerton as she once again claimed her prize of being next to her favorite human. Her head resting in Penelope's lap as Penelope pets her.

"One of these days Artemis I'm gonna beat you," Colin swore.

Penelope giggled. "It's so nice for you to play with Artemis Colin. I'm sure she loves racing with you."

Artemis turned her stare onto Penelope, headbutting her in the red head's torso. Playing? Absolutely not Penelope. Can't you see he's trying to steal you?

"You are coming to my family's country party? Colin asked Penelope.

Artemis stares back at Colin. Why hasn't he left yet? He's lost the race.

"Yes," Penelope replied.

Artemis huffed, leaning herself fully on Penelope. Going to Aubrey Hall meant a long carriage ride, AND Colin being around every waking moment. He was worse in the countryside where he had Penelope and Artemis trapped in his family home. Well at least Penelope won't be going to that bad smelling place she goes to ever few nights. Artemis hates when Penelope comes home smelling like that. To the point she almost considered getting Colin to go look for Penelope one night when the rest of the family. If only Penelope didn't lave her in charge of Felicity.

On the trip to Aubrey Hall, Artemis lay on the floor of the carriage by her family's feet. The rock of the carriage lulling her to sleep. At least with this trip, Artemis will have more space to run around temporarily before returning to London for another few months.

Another family was arriving as Artemis' own family were getting out of the carriage.

"Oh Portia!" The mother of the other family greeted Portia.

"Hello Mary," Portia said.

The older women started talking, meanwhile Penelope struck up a conversation with the older daughter.

"How are your first impressions of Aubrey Hall Kate?" Penelope asked.

Oh Artemis has heard of Kate. She likes Kate for how frustrated she makes Anthony. It's funny to watch when Artemis is visiting the Bridgertons with Penelope.

"H-hello."

Artemis looked around before feeling the wet nose of another dog boop against her leg.

Looking down, Artemis saw the smallest dog in her life. Was it a dog? It smelled like one, but how is a dog this small?

The smaller dog stared at Artemis. "I'm Newton! Newton Sharma!"

Oh this is Kate's dog.

"Artemis Featherington," Artemis said. Bowing her head a little so she wasn't towering over the smaller dog.

Newton began to tap his two front feet. Was he nervous? Artemis laid down to be at a more even eye level with him. "Perhaps this will be better to talk?"

Newton lets out a little yelp, one of excitement and moves closer. "Yes! Have you been here before?"

Artemis nods. "Many times. How are you dealing with your interloping Bridgerton?"

"You mean the Viscount?" Newton asked. Newton moved his head a little. "Well, I did knock him into the Thames the other day."

Artemis barked out a laugh. "I'll have to remember that the next time Colin races me near it."

Newton's feet did a few quick taps. Did he have to go? Artemis wondered if she should ask him if he needs privacy.

Before she could Artemis caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.

Artemis let out a whine. Oh great Colin has made his appearance and he has that mischief making smirk of his directed at her.

[divine-donna]

body talk

seeing challengers was a mistake guys because all i can think about is challengers and how much i love challengers and how cinema is back after people declared the death of cinema like three years ago and how much i wanna go see challengers again—

anyways uhhhh did challengers make me hop onto the mike faist train? yes. because i love a man that clearly worships his wife and kisses boys.

character: art donaldson

for vibes: "physical" by olivia newton-john

context: stanford university. 2007.

if you had a choice, you wouldn't be working as a receptionist in the gym. instead, you'd work in the infirmary. it was more in line with your desire to pursue sports medicine.

your father himself was an athlete who sustained a career ending injury and went into sports medicine. you wanted to follow in his footsteps.

but for now, you were working as a receptionist at the gym for your federal work study. college wasn't going to pay for itself unfortunately and your parents could only provide so much support.

art donaldson recognized you while you guys were at a party. "you're the person at the desk in the gym!" he sounded so excited. almost like a puppy.

"yeah..." you look down at your red solo cup. "you're like a regular. with tashi duncan."

"you know her?"

"well, i've talked to her a few times. she's great." who wouldn't like her honestly? you weren't the biggest fan of tennis but whenever tashi duncan played, she always managed to make it magical.

"you're also in my bio class, right?"

"you're in my bio class?"

"oh don't tell me you didn't notice."

you shrug. "i didn't. you're not very...noticeable, i guess."

art took personal offense to that statement.

okay not entirely. because to some extent, you were right. he wasn't as noticeable as some of the other people in class, like the lacrosse player on the guys team or the girl from the basketball team, both of whom you seem to be close with.

growing closer to art was just a matter of being in a lot of classes together, something you didn't realize during the first month of college.

to be fair, it was a lot.

but the good thing about having a lot of classes with him was that it meant you always had a go to person for group projects. and god were professors adamant about assigning group work.

at the very least, you had a workout buddy when you guys were free. sometimes, you were even joined by tashi duncan. so it was cool to be able to work out with a famous tennis player.

perhaps the gym is where you started to notice art's...physicality.

he wasn't entirely imposing, aside from being quite tall. but he had a surprising amount of muscle. perhaps the tank tops he wore didn't help much. it left little to the imagination.

because of your familiarity with the body and your desire to go into sports medicine, art called you when he was feeling a bit sore.

he opens the door with a smile, seeing you with your bag and clementines. "what's the fruit for?"

"just in case you get hungry." you step in and remove your shoes. "just lay down."

"bed or floor?"

"whichever you prefer. the bed might be more comfy. we'd have to move stuff around if you were on the floor. oh and take off your shirt."

"what?" he could feel his cheeks beginning to heat up.

"take off your shirt. a massage won't be that effective with your shirt on."

"alright. umm..." art just does what you ask of him, taking his shirt off and setting it aside on his desk chair. he gets on the bed and lays down, front side down.

you pull out a bottle of lotion and crawl onto the bed, straddling him at his waist. you are unaware of how red he is feeling you against him.

you feel around his back for bit, asking him where in particular is tight. once you got a good idea, you squirt some lotion onto your hands, rub it a bit, then begin to massage.

art would be embarrassed from the sounds that came out of him. but he was craving for the relief from his overworked and tired muscles. he could feel just how deep your hands went in, twisting and rubbing. your hands felt so good. they glided smoothly and your touch soothed him greatly.

"damn dude. when was the last time you massaged yourself?"

"don't know." he mutters, burying his lower face into his own pillow. he could feel himself growing warmer all over his body.

your palm pressing into him, dragging itself through his muscles, rubbing baby lotion into his skin so he's soft.

your hand reaches a part of his lower back, your palm rubbing through the muscle. and he moans.

you stop for a moment. "something wrong?"

"no...nothing's wrong..." he mutters.

"you sure?"

"yes. keep going."

he enjoys the way your hands move lower, and lower. he wants them to sneak to the front. massage him a different way.

your hands linger on a particular spot of his back though, feeling the defined muscle. there's something particularly...satisfying, about running your hands over his body. you were tempted to feel more. especially his arms.

art's arms were utterly gorgeous, as if sculpted out of marble by a renaissance artist themselves.

"i think you're all good."

"all done already?" he smelled like baby lotion. whatever that mean.

"unless you want me to massage elsewhere." you get off of him and he turns on his side to look at you.

the tank top you were wearing was a little bit tight.

art gently grabs your wrist. "magical hands you know."

"it's beneficial to learn how to massage. for your own betterment and health. though i will happily help you with the spots you can't reach."

he rubs circles into your wrists. "are they tired?"

"a little. it was because i took an exam yesterday. writing in those blue booklets is absolute torture."

"that's fair." his eyes flicker up to yours. the room was warm, the atmosphere right. "do you...like my body?"

"it's nice. you're very beautiful." you smile.

art pulls you forward, your legs hitting the wooden bedframe of the shitty college provided furniture.

"do you want to feel it?"

you bite your lip. "i think i do."

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Nineteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Cuss words and a weeeee bit of angst, no Jasper tonight - but I promise I’ll make it up to y’all!

Notes: Tomorrow afternoon I’ll try to sort out the bugs with my taglist, tonight I just want to get this posted for y’all to enjoy because I had a stupid long day and Tumblr is wanting to test me for some reason.

Word Count: 2058

Series Masterlist

• January 27, 2006 • Forks HS, WA•

Reader

Bella was noticeably absent from school yesterday and there’s a rumor floating around that she had made a trip to the ER Sunday afternoon. I had texted her yesterday to check on her as soon as I heard the whispers, but I received nothing but radio silence on her end.

I was in the middle of typing her another message as I headed in the direction of my final class of the day when a hand at my shoulder stopped me.

Snapping my head up, my eyes were immediately drawn to the neat row of stitches in Bella’s hairline.

“Holy shit, what-?” I gape, worry for my best friend taking hold of me.

“I um, lost control of one of the dirt bikes, hit a rock and it got me pretty good.” She sheepishly glanced at the floor while explaining herself quietly.

“I heard yesterday you had a trip to the ER on Sunday, I was worried sick about you!” My free hand gripping one of her biceps as I lightly berated her for not texting me back.

Her eyes met mine and something in them shifted, like she didn’t expect me to be so invested in her wellbeing.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” I suggest and tug her towards the exit to the student parking lot, “We’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Aren’t you girls supposed to be in school?” Cora, the sweet hearted waitress at Carver’s Cafe, teases us as she sets down our shakes in front of us on the bar.

“It’s just one of those days.” I give her a half smile, stabbing my milkshake with a straw.

She nods understandingly, glancing at Bella’s injured forehead before moving on to other customers.

“Mike invited me to the movies.” She blurts as she scoops off the whipped cream into a discarded dish between us, neither one of us liking the topping.

A gasp slips out before I could reign in my surprise and Bella immediately shushes me.

“It’s not like I want to go with him!” She whisper-yells defensively.

“Well, what did you tell him?” I lean forward to press her for more details.

“I said yes, but!” She holds up a finger to delay my response, “I want it to be a group thing. I can’t deal with this potentially turning into some kind of date.”

“So you want me to come to be the awkward hand-holding buffer?” I smile to myself as I stir my melting drink.

“I’m asking Jake to come too and probably some of the others from school, I just have to find a weekend when everyone is free.”

“Oh thank god!” Her look of shock causes me to elaborate, “I’m not sure I could handle thwarting his advances towards you on my own, that’s a tall order for a wingwoman against Mike Newton on a mission, Bells.”

She groans and slumps back in her seat, “This is the worst, why couldn’t I have just said no?”

“Because you’re a nice person and even slightly hurting someone’s feelings is the worst thing you could do. I get it, I would’ve done the same thing.” Sighing, I slump down in my seat too.

“It sucks being a girl sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” My head lolls in her direction as I ask her sarcastically and we both let out a giggle.

As soon as I walk in the door from my girl-date with Bella, I shoot a text to Quil:

Hey, you down for going to the movies? Bella is getting some friends together to go at some point in the near future, Jake will probably be there too.

A ping chirps from my phone before I even set my backpack down:

Absolutely, just let me know when and where Y/n/n.

I smile to myself - happy to get him out and hanging with other people, Quil has been struggling recently with Embry dropping off the map to spend time with Sam Uley. Somehow Sam is managing to dig his claws into the young guys of the tribe one by one, there also seems to be a gag order in place to not talk to anyone since Embry is ghosting us.

I just hope Jake and Quil aren’t next, I don’t think I could handle more people abandoning me.

• February 20th, 2006 • Port Angeles, WA •

Reader

This group-movie-thing has got to be the newest and worst idea Isabella Swan has ever had.

Somehow in the shuffle under the dim lighting in the theater, Jake pushed his way between Bella and I, causing Mike to snatch up the other available seat next to her before I could even think of switching sides.

Huffing, I settle for sitting in between Jake and Quil, nervously meeting Bella’s panicked eyes as the opening ads begin playing.

I lean over and bump Quil with my shoulder, “Boys are mindless beasts.” I jokingly whisper.

“And girls never shut the fuck up in movies.” He whispers right back without missing a beat, devouring the bucket of popcorn while his eyes stay glued to the silver screen.

I turn my upper body to face him with a look of shock, this fucker-

But Jacob shushes us before we could get into it. I let out an exasperated sigh and cross my arms as I settle in for the movie, fucking boys.

Ya know, last time I went to the movies I told Bella I would choose the next one.

Well, as my luck would have it, the boys beat us three to two on what to watch. Which means I’ve been left to suffer through gory after gory scene in this stupid action movie.

Cringing behind my hands as I squint, legs tucked up to my chest, Mike suddenly announces, “Okay-I think I’mgoingtothrowup.” And bolts from his chair for the exit, all of us turning to watch him run.

Bella turns to look at me questioningly and I gesture to follow him, all of us rising to leave.

“What a marshmallow.” Jake jokes as soon as we exit the theater and I try to stifle my laughter at the accuracy as we watch Mike dive for the bathroom door. “You should hold out for someone with a stronger stomach. Someone who laughs at the gore that makes weaker men vomit.”

“Yeah - I’ll keep my eye open for that.” Bella laughs, like actually laughs and it makes my heart a little happier to hear the sound from her again.

“I feel bad, he probably has that flu that’s-going around.” Bella’s voice trails off as I watch Jacob slide his hand into hers, but she drops it and twists around at the bottom of the stairs while we wait for Mike.

“What, I can’t hold your hand?” Jake’s offended tone immediately sets alarm bells off in my head and I turn to Quil, my eyes staring a hole in his chest.

“Of course you can, I just think it means something a little different.” I can hear Bella backpedaling to avoid hurting his feelings and it makes me cringe so hard I tune out their words.

Obviously this conversation needs to happen between them, but the urge to step in and come to her rescue fights my rational thought.

“Hey, let’s give them some space.” Quil whispers to me, steering me to the other side of the bathroom. Mike’s sounds of vomiting echoing as we pass and it makes me wince, poor dude can’t catch a break.

“But-” I look over my shoulder to check on my friend and see nothing but Jake’s tense back.

“I can see her from here and she’s fine.” Quil’s eyes never move from Bella, I can tell he feels the same way about their conversation.

“I knew this would happen sooner or later, but right now?” I speculate out loud.

“Jake’s always had the best fucking timing.”

“Really?” I ask questioningly.

“Of course not, dumbass - it was sarcasm.”

I punch his shoulder and he recoils from me at the same time a haggard-looking Mike Newton emerges from the men’s bathroom.

“Well, I need to go home.” The marshmallow announces, interrupting whatever was happening between Jacob and Bella on the stairs. “I-I was feeling sick before the movie. What is your problem?”

Quil hurriedly pushes me towards them, somehow already sensing a shift in the conversation.

“You, you’re my problem. Feeling sick? Maybe you need to go to the hospital. Want me to put you in the hospital?”

Quil surges past me to play mediator at the same time Bella grabs Jacob’s wrist.

“Jake! Jake-Jake, the movie is over, what are you doing?” I standby uselessly and watch as Bella tries to calm him down.

“Hey man-” Quil lays a hand on his chest to get his attention, but it fails.

“You’re really hot… You feel like you have a fever, are you okay?” I watch as Bella’s hands move along his arm, concern flooding her voice and moving her hands.

“I don’t know what’s happening. I gotta go.” Abruptly Jacob rushes for the exit, leaving the four of us dumbfounded in the corridor.

“Dude is weird.” Mike quips, but we ignore him, worried about our friend.

The car ride home with Quil was… Awkward. Jake blowing up on Mike ended the night on a sour note, but his behavior had my mind racing.

It’s so obvious he’s in love with Bella and I’m worried I might eventually find myself in her same shoes. I chew on my lip nervously as I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, too fast for it to be with the beat of whatever is playing on the radio.

Quil leans over to shut the music off, “Alright, what’s wrong?”

At first I’m not really sure what to tell him, the anxiety of having the conversation I know we need to have is eating me alive.

“I’m worried about Jake.”

“Jake will be fine-”

“No, I know that. I’m just worried about what’s going on with him.” My hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“I’m not following, Y/n/n.” His eyebrows bunch together as he turns his face to study me.

“He’s in love with her.” I glance at him for a second before turning back to the road. “And-and I’m worried that we-”

“Pull over, please.” He asks gently and immediately I begin to panic internally.

Slowing to a stop on the shoulder of the deserted road back to Forks, Quil reaches up to turn on the car cabin light before turning to face me fully, “Y/n.”

Slowly I let go of the steering wheel and face him, worried about what he could possibly unleash on me.

“You’re my best friend, plain and simple. Jake and Bella are not us, I don’t have feelings for you like he does for her.” A puff of air blows through my lips as I deflate in relief, but he grabs my hands and continues. “You’re my sister for all intents and purposes, you don’t need to worry about that.”

My breaths are a bit shaky as I come down from the anxiety high, “I just don’t want you to think I’m close to you because I’m looking for something…” I look down at our joined hands and squeeze his. “After him, I just can’t.”

Tears begin to make my vision swim, it hurts every fiber of my being just thinking about potentially wanting someone else.

“I don’t know what happened with Hale,” my breath hitches at the name, “I don’t need the details about that whole situation, but I’m not here to replace him. I don’t want to, I just want a best friend that won’t leave me.”

“That’s all I want too, I can’t take anyone else leaving.”

Quil leans over the center console to pull me into a hug and my body relaxes.

“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers before letting go and leaning back into his seat.

Putting the car back into drive and continuing to the reservation to drop him off, a little sliver of dread worms its way into the cracks of my heart.

Everyone that says they aren’t going anywhere eventually goes somewhere, it’s like jinxing yourself with hard odds to beat - impossible.

Next

Teaser

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

Sorry it took so long to fix!

[atouchofireland]

PR Perception & Consequences: Luke Newton

[This analysis is from the perspective of a lover of story with a Masters in Publishing & Writing, with ties to a publicist with 20+ years experience.]

I didn't watch Bridgerton until a while after s2 came out. Partly because I hesitate with new shows and mainly because I hate waiting years between seasons.

I LOVE Derry Girls because it clicks with my mainly Irish family. So, I knew who Nicola was as Clare before watching Bridgerton, but nothing else.

That leads into the LN assumptions.

From what I can tell as a general viewer of the show and Social Media, he came from musical theater and Disney stuff in the UK before landing the Colin role in his mid 20's.

During this time, aka 2019/2020-2023, LN had a gf named Jade for that whole time.

Media reported that they'd broken up some time at the end of filming in June 2023. Then, there is some reports saying he got with his current partner, mere months later in at least 8/23 if not sooner. (Nic is known for keeping her even longterm relationships a secret, but Luke's previous gf would post a few pics and vids here and there.)

This is where PR should've started to protect his image before the first premiere and press tour even happened.

At this point, late 2023, Luke has not posted even a hint of his supposed app gf anywhere. Then he leaves for a 6-month world tour with his friend, of 5 years that he has easy chemistry with, but now they both are not with longtime partners.

LN leaned into the romantic press interviews with his friend because he was comfortable with her and it promoted the show.

Here's where his friends as PR shows dumbass judgment.

I believe I saw something about the app gf attending the 1st premier in London, before the tour, but it wasn't paparazzi-d. Whereas, after the WT, the 1st LN news was pap photos with this girl at the after party 2nd half premier. Basically, PURPOSEFULLY taking the romance illusion away from the couple that the actors built for the months leading up to this.

Bad PR leads off from here: self-described introvert Luke goes to Milan with 'gf',' fair enough it's fashion week. But, THEN he's BACK in Italy on "holiday." Getting paparazzi pics of him they didn't even get on his World Press Tour. Then possibly in Greece, continuing some vacation? So much of this shit makes zero sense both PR-wise and normal person-wise.

For example of good PR capitalizing on lead roles: Nicola is on a movie rn, she's part of A-list representation, she's possibly a future bond girl. Johnny Bailey was shooting a drama, Wicked, and his Bridgerton cameos at the same time. Simone is starring in a motion picture out soon.

The rumors of LN's friend Rory running his socials is horrible because: 1) Rory seems like a douchebag who wants more shirtless pictures of himself on his non-famous account than of his gf. 2) He puts Luke's skinny "similar to his gf" wannabe influencer gf on his instagram without hyping up any on Luke's actual work and projects.

This all gives off the vibe of this friend being resentful, taking advantage of Luke breaking up with his longterm gf and deciding to get more built for the show, and convincing him he needs the "hot rebound" for himself and image. As always, that gross straight man is wrong. All his friends say he's so sweet and quiet and genuine.

How I perceive him from his own press: Had a supportive, longterm gf who was also an aspiring actor as they were both coming up in their early 20's. LN started working out so much to get lean & abs to feel on-par with the other Bridgerton guys. Him and his gf grew apart, maybe even felt resentment, while LN was shooting so long for BS3. Shooting raps.

This is the overall perception that makes me and I think many others so mad: Luke had a sweet, curvy, talented gf for 4 years. And he was a thicker tall guy, not fat, not skinny, not ripped but amazingly curvy in the male way that's rare. He got all built for Bridgerton when Nic refused cuz it isn't necessary for the characters. And after all this real-life and on-screen romance with a mid-size woman, after becoming a "muscly man," he shows up with a stick-figure wanna be dance influencer.

His actions of allowing his pr/friend to paint him as if he gets "hot women" now that he's "desirable" is what makes me fucking sick about the perception of him and I think this is why so many Bridgerton fans in the SM sphere got the ick.

[calqlate]

NOVEMBER SONG

SUMMARY: Yamaguchi Tadashi always saw himself as a side character. However, there came a day whereby he did not want to live like that anymore. He wanted to be seen, to be noticed, to be perhaps, loved — all because of a single person: you.

PAIRING: yamaguchi tadashi x gn! reader

GENRE(S): pining (one sided)

WC: 1559

NOTE(S): inspired by baek yerin's november song + dw it has a happy ending

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST (italicised blogs are unable to be tagged): @deeomi

Yamaguchi Tadashi was that boy: the awkward, quiet boy who sat in the corner of the classroom right next to the windows. He never spoke unless he was spoken to, and he only talked more than he needed to with Tsukishima. He was always seen by girls as Tsukishima's friend, the one that can be used as a channel to get close to the tall blonde. (Yamaguchi had always felt bad for them, because Tsukishima never paid them much attention in the first place.)

Yamaguchi always saw himself as a side character. If he were to appear in a fairytale, he would be the page boy appearing on page fifteen, or perhaps even the faceless gardener drawn in the background. For him, just being there was okay, as long as he was not disrupting the flow of anything. It was okay if Tsukishima was the focal point and he was the 'but'. As long as he was not a forgotten face, he was okay with it.

However, there came a day he did not want to live like that anymore. He wanted to be seen, to be noticed, to be perhaps, loved — all because of a single person: you.

It was funny, was it not? To have lived like an extra of a major production but wanting to be noticed all of a sudden? To be the star, the protagonist, the hero? (Maybe he did not want to be the hero, per se; he just wanted to be seen as a someone for once.)

"What's wrong with you?" Tsukishima asked one day, his patented impassive, blank look still on his face, "You're happier and, I don't know... jittery, these few days."

"M-Me?" Yamaguchi stuttered, then rushed to fill in that dubious reply with a scoff, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes," the blonde sighed through his nose, "Yes, you do."

Yamaguchi did not say anything else. Arguing with his friend would not get him anywhere; Tsukishima was perpetually right all the time. Winning an argument against him would be doing the impossible. It would be akin to proving that Newton was lying when he proved that gravity exists.

So it was natural that Tsukishima was proven right once again when he caught Yamaguchi staring a tad bit too long than usual at a particular person. Tsukishima recognised them: it was [F/N] from the next-door Physics class.

"So, [F/N]?" Tsukishima said after class, a hint of mischief in his golden-brown eyes.

Yamaguchi immediately turned a few shades darker of red, wishing he could disappear into his hair or thin air, he did not mind which.

"You can't be just simply staring at them, you know," the taller male said with a little sigh, "They won't be able to notice you that way."

"I just don't want to embarrass myself," the freckled male said meekly, then added in a softer voice, "I'm just... me. There's nothing special about me."

"No, there is," Tsukishima said, "There are things about you that make you special."

There was a brief pause as Tsukishima frowned, before he elaborated, "Being caring, for instance, and being nice. Not everyone has a soft heart like you, Yamaguchi."

Yamaguchi's jaw fell slightly, and he stared at his friend with wide eyes. Tsukishima had never really complimented him before, so this was something new and big. Monumental, even.

He smiled, "Thanks, Tsukki."

Catching a person's attention, however, proved to be difficult. He did not know how Tsukishima managed to do it, but he was surely envious of whatever the blonde had that he himself was lacking in. However, he thought of a plan that he found always proved to be successful in almost every drama his mother watched.

"[F/N]?" he said one day as he approached you, your name rolling off his lips easily yet oddly, like it was meant to be.

You quirked an eyebrow up at him, beckoning him to continue.

"I-I was wondering if you'd like to study together," he said, stuttering unintentionally at the start, to which he mentally berated and kicked himself for, "Additional Mathematics, especially. I can't quite grasp linear law." That was a lie; he was rather good at Additional Mathematics, and his best topic was linear law.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, "But aren't you good in Additional Mathematics?"

He winced internally. Drat, he was caught. Time to deploy Plan B.

"I was thinking it could be more of a revision session," he said before any doubts could cross your mind, "I can't prepare with Tsukki either; he has tuition classes."

"Oh, okay," you said, shrugging your shoulders slightly, "How does Saturday afternoon sound?"

"Sounds good," he said, smiling and hoping it did not look too creepy or off-putting in any way (because God forbid he scared you off after his very first interaction with you), "We'll do that."

The revision sessions did prove to help; Yamaguchi got closer to you. Perhaps it was even a little too fast-paced than he originally thought it would be, since he clearly did not plan too far ahead when he realised a harmless little crush turned into a full-blown and slightly dangerous love. Every little accidental touch sent both of your hands jerking away from each other, every slightly prolonged glance sent both of your cheeks burning whenever they were caught, and every smile set both of your hearts pounding furiously against both of your ribcages.

"You're in love with them," Tsukishima blurted out one day during lunch, which caused Yamaguchi to choke on his rice.

"W-What?" he said as he pounded on his chest, looking at Tsukishima with wide eyes, similar to that of a fish's.

"[F/N]," Tsukishima said casually, picking a cherry tomato from his lunchbox with his chopsticks.

Yamaguchi covered his face in his hands, "Is it really that obvious?"

"Anyone would know," Tsukishima said plainly, "It's that obvious."

A pause followed as Tsukishima chewed on the cherry tomato, then, "Aren't you going to confess?"

"M-Me? Confess?" Yamaguchi stuttered as he dropped his hands to his sides, "It's not that easy, you know!"

"What century are you living in, Yamaguchi?" Tsukishima asked with a snort before closing his lunchbox, "It doesn't matter who asks the other person out. Anyway—" — The blonde paused and stared at his friend before continuing — "Don't you want to make a lasting impression on them?"

Yamaguchi bit his lower lip. He was never one to be macho or manly in any way. He was the shy and gentle guy; he would be a stammering mess with pink-tinted cheeks. However, Tsukishima had raised a valid point. It was time to "man up", like Tanaka-senpai had always said, and make the first move, like chess.

Tsukishima stood up, taking his lunchbox with him.

"Be confident," Tsukishima said, patting the dark green-haired male on the shoulder before walking off, "I know you can do it."

And so he did; he puffed his chest out and summoned every ounce of willpower he had to brave through the confession, to enunciate his words clearly without hesitation.

He expected rejection. Which person, in their right mind, would say yes?

Apparently, you were that person, which pleasantly surprised him.

He always wondered, what exactly did you see in him that made you agree? He hoped you were not just doing it out of pity, or worse, using him to get close to Tsukishima. (A lot of people liked Tsukki better than the plain old Yamaguchi anyway.)

However, you always reassured him gently, all while taking his hands, that you did it because you reciprocated his feelings. You were not lying to him in any way, neither did your actions have any underlying meaning. You were willing to be together with him, to be his other half, to be the one supporting him at one hundred percent.

Whenever he felt down, whenever he felt useless, whenever he felt like the world was against him for some unknown and odd reason, you were always there to give a hug, to tell him that everything was going to be alright, and that you were physical proof that you were there and would not be going anywhere. It was during times like these that Yamaguchi knew for sure that this love was meant to be his and it was uniquely his, that a bond like this would never come again in his entire lifetime.

Even if this love was broken, trampled on, and tested, it would never fade. Both of you would always come back together, like unlike poles, the right puzzle pieces filling in the gaps.

Maybe this love was not romantic according to society's standards, but that was okay. It was the bond and overwhelming feelings that words could not describe make this love special, one that cannot be recreated.

He hoped he could be the one for you, too: the shoulder you could cry on, the first person you would share good news with, the Mr. Right in your happily ever after. That future was close in reach, but he did not know that. For now, he was content with the way he lived with you, and that was perfectly fine.

As long as the two of you were connected, like two single lines diverged together into one, everything will be fine.

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (3) - But It Was a Trick and the Clock Struck 12

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 6,673

Opening of Chatper 3 Under the Cut! 🖤

Ofelia tosses and turns beside the fire in the bedroll she’d found, trying to adjust her body to the feeling of sleeping on the ground. Oh, what she’d give for a cot of some kind instead. Sleep isn’t something that usually comes easy anyway, her nights are usually prone to recurrent nightmares... Still, as tired as she is, it remains out of reach.

Astarion never returned for the stew, and he’d only come back a little while ago. She’d watched him cross the camp in the darkness, moving quietly as he stalked towards the bedroll next to hers. She’d pretended she was asleep, peeking out of a tiny gap in her lashes to see him hover beside her for a moment, red irises ablaze in the light of the fire. He’d looked predatory, like how a lion would whilst stalking its prey, but the look disappeared in an instant and he’d gone to lay down in his bedroll.

She rewinds to the beginning of the day when they first encountered each other. He’s got a mouth on him, that’s for sure, but she can’t really complain when she's just as willing and able to exchange blows. He’s pretty, there’s certainly that. The milk-white of his skin would put porcelain to shame. Tall, sharp, perfect hair… ugh. He’s probably the prettiest person she’s ever seen, or one of them if the others hadn’t also been so weirdly attractive. Even Lae’zel with her tiny little nose… and bossy attitude...

I may have issues. She sighs and rolls over, feeling stupid.

She can’t help but wonder about Astarion’s eyes- she’s never seen a color like that bar contacts- which she’d sported once upon a time when she used to go out and do something worth getting dressed up for. She trails off, thinking about her old friends… there were a couple, both just as partial to black clothes and dark make-up as her. Oh, what fun they used to have- tripping over their platforms, getting piercings and tattoos. She sighs again, her heart twisting as she glares up at the stars.

[starry-night-rose]

“I wish I was with you.....six feet under the ground”

Character Playlist / Character Inspirations

Full Name: Elizabeth Heather Shelley

Nicknames: Lizzie (herself, family, others), Beloved Bride (Ernest, belongs to @rosietrace ), Missy (Trinity, belongs to @rosietrace ) Mademoiselle Couturière (Rook)

V/A: Minami Tanaka (JP) Kathryn Newton (EN)

! Twisted from Lisa Swallows from Lisa Frankenstein !

Age: 18

Birthday: January 1st

Horoscope: Capricorn

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Height: 154 cm (or 5’1)

Hair Color: Chocolate Brown

Eye Color: Dark Blue

｡.•*¨*•♬✧

Homeland: Shaftlands

Family: Unnamed Mother (deceased), Unnamed Father, Unnamed Stepmother, Unnamed Stepbrother, Unnamed Step Sister. Ernest Shelley (“Husband”)

Dominant Hand: Left

Dormitory: Terrovania (belongs to @terrovaniadorm / @hallowed-delights )

School Year: Third Year

Class: 3-B (no. 13)

Best Class(es): Alchemy, Potions, Astronomy

Worst Class(es): P.E

｡.•*¨*•♬✧

Favorite Food(s): Gummy worms, Pizza, Lollipops, Cherries

Least Favorite Food: Steak

Hobbies: Watching Silent films, reading/writing poetry, singing, listening to vinyls

Dislike(s): real Bugs, Cheerleading, Hot Weather

Talent(s): Sewing, Fashion Designing, Reanimation

Sexuality: Bisexual

｡.•*¨*•♬✧

Personality: Lizzie is a very eccentric girl who seems to always have her head up in the clouds. Lizzie can however be very quiet and a bit of a recluse, seldom speaking until she feels comfortable. Once out of her shell, Lizzie is a very passionate and much more lighthearted! She can be very energetic at times when excited. Lizzie can be seen as a girl with many quirks who likes to do things her own way. She hates it when people tell her how to live her life and will do anything to break free from their confinements. Lizzie cares for her loved ones fiercely as they mean everything to her.

｡.•*¨*•♬✧

TW for Parental Death, and mentions of corpses

Backstory: Lizzie was born to two loving parents in the Shaftlands. Her father was the groundskeeper for a historic cemetery and as such, Lizzie was exposed to the macabre from a young age. To her, the cemetery grounds was just one giant park for her to play in! Life seemed idyllic until it was all shattered in an instant. Lizzie was in the car with her mother when they got into a horrible accident leaving Lizzie the only survivor. Lizzie was crushed by the passing of her mother, becoming more of a recluse and diving more into the macabre. Shortly after, her father shockingly remarried another woman with two children of her own already. This gave Lizzie a whole new stepfamily which enraged her. She felt like her father had seemingly moved on quickly from a woman who seemed like the love of his life. Lizzie’s new stepmother did not tolerate Lizzie and as such, Lizzie would seek solace in the cemetery. She soon had a favorite tombstone, complete with a lifelike bust statue of the deceased. His name was “Ernest” according to his tombstone and had died unmarried. Lizzie would spend all of her free time at his grave, finding his “company” pleasant

One starry and clear night, Lizzie made a wish upon a star over his grave stating “I wish he were here with me” and promptly left when it suddenly started thundering despite there being no warning in the forecast. While at home alone, all cozy in her pajamas, she heard a knock at the door. Expecting to see the pizza delivery guy, she opened the door to find a tall, filthy, and rotting corpse standing outside. Terrified, she screamed, slammed the door, and ran for her life. Though, once she remembered the corpse’s face, it all made sense to her. Lizzie’s wish had come true! He was here with her. Feeling remorseful for how she acted just then, she opened the door and let Ernest in. The pair soon became oddly close with Lizzie fixing him up as best she could. There did come a problem however. Ernest seemed to be missing vital “parts” such as a hand or an ear. To combat this problem, Lizzie and Ernest stole from the mortuary on the cemetery property, using the body parts to add to Ernest. These new parts were somehow solidified by using Lizzie’s stepmother’s tanning bed surprisingly. When the time came for Lizzie to return to NRC, she brought along Ernest with her, having him pose as another student.

｡.•*¨*•♬✧

Triva!

The necklace with the pendant that she wears was from her late mother. She almost never takes it off

Lizzie has a less strained relationship with her step-siblings, they mostly leave her alone

Lizzie is almost never seen without her sunglasses! She has a distaste for the sun

Lizzie is a great poet and has even had a few of her poems published before in the town newspaper

She’s always seen with Ernest in tow, the pair is almost never seen apart

Lizzie often is experimenting with different makeup looks! Ernest does fall victim to her experimenting most of the time

Lizzie is shockingly good with an axe!

[theriverspath]

Holidays at the Device-Pulsifer's: A cozy Good Omens fic

Rated G. Written as a contribution to the holiday party on @sendarya's discord server.

Jasmine Cottage had never been so full. The sounds of voices raised in laughter, and occasionally song, mixed with the merry music coming from a stereo in the den. Children’s footsteps pattered quickly through the rooms, followed by a half-hearted, “No running in the house,” from one of the adults. The rich, savory scents of turkey and stuffing were highlighted by the sweet tang of cranberry sauce and warm mulled wine.

There was a knock at the kitchen door. Newton set down the vegetable peeler he had been using on a pile of potatoes. His wife appeared from the hallway before he had a chance to open the door, though. She smiled and gave Newton an, “I’ve got it,” wave. A gust of cold air swirled around the little room as she greeted more guests.

“Hey, Book Girl! We brought the pudding!” A tall, lanky figure strode into the house. Their long, auburn hair was plaited down their back. Among their all-black attire, the only nod to the holiday season was the faint glint of sparkly red woven into the thread of their jumper. Behind them was what appeared to be a shorter man. The winter wind whipped his blonde curls into a halo around his head. His tan jacket was unbuttoned to reveal the cream and gold plaid of his own jumper. He carried a covered dish in one hand and a rather nice bottle of brandy in the other. He shook his head at Crowley’s grand entrance, then turned a fond smile to the day’s hostess.

“Anathema! How lovely to see you! It was such a nice surprise to receive your invitation. Thank you for thinking of us.” The kitchen quickly warmed again once the door was closed. Anathema took the dish and bottle from Aziraphale, and placed them on the nearly-full table in the middle of the room.

“Well, Adam insisted. You know how he is when he gets an idea in his head. Newt and I thought it was long past time we had you here, anyway.”

“Speak of the devil.” Crowley said, leaning against the counter by the range. They gestured with a mug of the spiced wine toward the hallway door. A teenage boy rounded the corner, holding a fussy toddler on his hip. He nodded a greeting to Crowley, then turned to Anathema.

“She wanted her mother,” he explained, shifting his grip on the child to hand her over.

“Oh, this must be Agnes!” Aziraphale’s expression lit up at the sight of the tiny human. Crowley meandered over, making a silly face at Agnes’s tear-stained one.

“Yes, she’s just learned how to walk and is running us ragged.” Anathema’s voice softened with a mix of love and exasperation. She reached out to take her daughter, but Agnes seemed to have a different idea. Her gaze slipped past both her mother and Aziraphale to land on Crowley. She let out a pleased, “Ah!” and launched herself out of Adam’s arms toward them.

On reflex, Crowley extended both hands to catch Agnes. They barely registered Azirphale deftly rescuing the mug before it could spill. They found themself with a handful of happy baby, and their surprise dissolved into a bright smile.

“Hello there to you, too.” Crowley's smile was rewarded with an enthusiastic squeal and something that sounded like, “peedee.” They looked to Agnes’ mother for a translation.

“That’s ‘pretty.’ Agnes thinks you’re pretty.” Anathema’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Well, who can blame her?” Aziraphale chuckled. He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a pair of dark, round glasses. “I believe we neglected to ensure you were wearing these when we exited the Bentley, dear.” Crowley realized that they were looking down at Agnes with unshielded eyes. Yellow, slit-pupil eyes that the little girl had just declared were pretty.

Crowley retrieved their glasses from Aziraphale. Agnes tried to remove the frames when Crowley put them on, but they gently caught her hand and distracted her with a little bouncy motion like they were dancing.

“Ok, this is lovely, but if you’re not here to help chop potatoes, I’m afraid you’ll all have to leave the kitchen.” Newton made a shooing motion. “I’ve got too much to do before the turkey’s ready, and you’re all in my way.” 

Anathema and Adam exchanged a look that said they’d heard this exact tone from Newt on more than one occasion. Anathema leaned over to plant a quick kiss on her husband's cheek, then herded Adam back down the halfway to join the others in the sitting room. Agnes watched her mother go, and Crowley lifted their eyebrows in a silent question to Aziraphale.

“Go on. I’ll stay to help. Many hands and all that.” Aziraphale handed Crowley’s mug back to them. He slipped out of his jacket and replaced it with an apron he noticed hanging from a hook near the door. He looked down at the side dishes in various stages of preparation and wiggled his fingers in anticipation. “Now, what can I do first?”

Behind their glasses, the corners of Crowley's eyes crinkled at the angel’s obvious delight. Then, they wandered after Anathema and Adam. Agnes squirmed to be let down, but continued to cling to their hand as they walked together into the room full of light and cheer.

[spiderandthesims]

The early morning sun painted the sky orange as Tobias set out from his farmhouse, eager to explore the countryside. The air was fresh and filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the earthy undertones of fertile soil. Tobias walked along a dirt path, his steps light and purposeful, his eyes taking in the beauty around him. 

He wandered through fields of tall grass, the blades whispering as he passed. Birds flitted from tree to tree, their songs filling the air with a cheerful melody. Tobias stopped occasionally to dig for treasures.

As he approached a familiar bend in the path, Tobias spotted two figures ahead. Newton, stood chatting animatedly with Birdie, the girl who had captured Tobias's heart. Birdie’s laughter rang out, clear and musical, as she listened to Newton, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Newton noticed Tobias first, waving him over with a friendly smile. Tobias approached, his steps measured, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. Birdie turned to see him, her expression brightening as he joined them. Tobias smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through him at her welcoming gaze.

They stood together for a while, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other’s company. Newton continued to talk, gesturing animatedly about something that had happened recently. Tobias listened, his eyes drifting to Birdie, who seemed to glow in the golden afternoon light.

Eventually, they parted ways, with Newton and Birdie heading off in one direction and Tobias in another. As he continued his walk, Tobias couldn’t help but replay the encounter in his mind, the memory of Birdie’s smile lingering with him like a cherished treasure.

first // previous // next

[the-fiction-witch]

Seventeen P15-P20

Media The Maze Runner

Characters Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Sweet

Series Seventeen

I headed inside the classroom even if everyone was already busy with the reading 

"Mr Newton, Particular reason you're twenty minutes late to my class?" Janson snapped

"I locked my key in my locker again" I sighed 

"I have half a mind to give you a detention" 

"It's Thursday." I remind him

"Alright, I'll let you off" he sighed 

So I went and took my seat I guess that is the one perk of being the scholastic team captain I can't get detention on Thursdays and Mondays.

I felt the little box burning in my bag I wanted to know so desperately what she had given me, but Ratman is a cunt and if he saw me get it out in his class he'd confiscate it for sure and I'd be lucky to get it back at all. So I just kept my head down and imagined whatever could be in the little box... 

I was first to arrive at the maths room we always used for the scholastic team being first as always. I sat down grabbed the little box from my bag and opened it up, inside the little black box were a few little items, A little orange lollipop, a little chocolate bar, a little pressed flower and a little keyring much like her own but this one had black flowers and a cartoon style slushie cup with the same style of scroll with the words 'You carved open my heart'. 

Awwwww I'm gonna cry! 

Immediately I put the keyring on my bag so I could carry it everywhere with me and put the little box in my bag so I could keep everything safe till I got home, soon enough everyone headed in ready for practice 

"Right kids let's get going!" Jorge says as he arrives eager to start up everything 

I didn't really pay much attention as we did practice questions and such as usual, even if I didn't really try too hard as I knew I didn't need too

"And top again, Is Miyoko!" Jorge says giving her applause and everyone else sighed, God, damn Miyoko.

Miyoko Lee, she wasn't actually in my class but in our year group even if she's literally 12! She was homeschooled until nine and has skipped almost half the years she's been alive. I mean it was fair to skip her as she is honestly as close to a genius as I have ever known, she's just insanely smart and untouchable I couldn't even take the piss or be mean to the little squirt as she is minho Lee head of the track team's little sister. 

"I don't know how we're meant to compete with her" Nick complained 

"Well if you boys did you're practice more maybe you could compete with Miyoko. But you're all on the same team" Jorge explained "Ohh just a sec-" He says heading out to talk with a passing teacher

"You know you could save all you're showing off for the next actual competition?" Jeff said 

"가서 엿 먹어도 돼" was her response

"Uhh... Team captain? you gonna do something about this?" Nick asked

"Look I've already been beaten up by a member of the track team, I'm not doing it again"

"That's fair" 

"Alright kiddo's get off home before the track meet's over so you don't get boxed in," Jorge says as he got back to the room everyone very quickly began to scamper I got my stuff and wanted to get home too but as I headed out I noticed how busy the track field still was as the track meet would not be over for a good half hour. I knew I should start on the walk home but...

I headed over to the track field sneaking in through the tall fence, seeing the tall bleachers full of people mostly parents and those who supported the team, they were setting the tracks up for another heat, the lights on bright making it strange as the track looked as bright as a summer day but just beyond the fence was the autumn darkness, The track team stood warming up as well as the team from the other nearby school, The small group of flag girls by the track meaning my sister and Zoe both of them looking bored. But drawing all the attention were the cheerleaders doing a route as the track was prepped, all the usual stick jumping, kicks, arm waves, pompom's all kind of a blur honestly.

The whistle blew for the heat and everyone took their lanes so the cheerleaders moved off the track and that's when we caught eyes, Y/n at the back of course pompom's in hand much as I had seen her earlier in the day I smiled and gently waved to her and she happily waved back the pompom swishing as she did but the race started and was kicked to cheer with the other girls. 

I found myself a spot on the bleachers and watched everything going on even if I did have to put my headphones in as it just got way too much for me. I didn't really pay much attention to the track meet only clapping when everyone around me did and even then only when I really noticed but I made sure to watch the girls, doing all their little cheer routines even if y/n often got shoved up the back I still found it impossible not to watch her. 

I often had to force my thoughts away when they did kicks and lifts given it often exposed the small white shorts she wore under the cheer skirt. But eventually, the meet was over, I honestly have no clue who won but I jumped out of my skin when y/n sat beside me with her bag and her pom pom's I quickly took my headphones out and did my best to smile 

"Hi y/n"

"Hi newt," she smiled "I thought you weren't coming?"

"Ohh well Scholastic got finished early, so I came to see you"

"Awww that's so sweet, But you could have got out early"

"I know, but I wanted to see you" 

"You're too sweet sometimes" she smiled "Did you like you're present?"

"I did very much, but you didn't have to do that"

"I know, but I wanted to" 

"Thank you very much, I've already put it in my bag"

"I can see, it's like we match" she giggled 

"Yeah it is a little" I laughed 

"I need to get going my dad will be waiting, But I'll see you tomorrow newt"

"Yeah see you tomorrow, have a nice night"

"You too" she smiled grabbing her stuff and scampering away towards the car park waving as she went I smiled and waved until she left my view 

"Ummmmm" I sighed happily 

I walked home and saw my mum busy with her cross stitch in the living room, sitting on the sofa watching some Tv, and my dad sat in his chair with some paperwork. 

"Hey kiddo, how was school?" he asks

"It went good" I smiled trying not to smile too much 

"Did you do it?" 

"do what?" She asks 

"Did you?" He asked again

"I did" I smiled 

"Good job, I'm a man of my word Pizza for dinner"

"Yes!" I smiled "I'll be in my room"

"Alright we'll call you down for dinner" 

I headed up to my room throwing my bag on my the side close to my desk but I had a heart attack "ahhhh!" I jumped as I saw Thomas sitting on my bed one of my snowglobes in his hand

"Hi," He waved 

"What are you doing in my house!" I yelled snatching my snowglobe from him and setting it back on the shelf 

"Your parents said I could wait up here" he shrugs getting up and fiddling with stuff around my desk

"Why are you in my house?" I complained stopping his hands from touching things 

"I came to visit, you weren't here," he says flicking through my notebook 

"Fine, what do you want?" I snapped taking my book and putting it back

"What's your problem?"

"I... like things very specific, I don't even let my sister in here," I told him "But it's fine, what do you want Tommy?" I sighed sitting on my bed and he sat on my chair

"Well I came over with some news, I figured you'd want to hear it as soon as possible"

"Oh? what?"

"I don't know maybe I shouldn't tell you, you've kinda been a dick"

"You're in my room, without consent. I think being a dick is fair"

"Fine, I'll go-"

"No. sorry Tommy, what did you need to tell me?" 

"That's better, given the news I'm about to give you I imagine you're gonna really wanna thank me" he smirked

"Am I?" I rolled my eyes "What is it then?"

"Well, I had a word with the head of the drama club this afternoon"

"Right? about?"

"About the Winter Musical" 

"Oh? how do you know? it won't be announced for like a good two weeks?"

"She wanted to tell me,"

"Why?"

"Honestly she wants me to try a drum up... more boys for drama club"

"That's fair I mean it is you and Aris that's it so makes sense"

"So I know the musical"

"All alright don't keep me in suspense, Are we doing Le mis again?"

"Nope."

"What is it then?"

"Heathers."

"Wh-WHAT!"

"We are doing Heathers the musical."

"How the hell are we gonna do that!"

"What do you mean?"

"Uhhhhh... Multiple deaths, mentions of suicide, of rape, many, many swear words and... the whole of a dead girl walking?"

"Apparently there's a high school cut"

"Ohh yeah that makes sense" I nodded "That's cool but why couldn't that be a text?"

"Because I told Teresa."

"Okay..."

"and she told y/n"

"What!"

"She told y/n. and apparently, she is going to be auditioning"

"Y/n is auditioning for Heathers! awww she'd make such a good Veronica"

"And the head of drama has asked me specifically to help bring more guys into drama club for this production under hint that I could have any role I want so I'm sure for a price I could make sure someone else gets a role they want"

"Are- are you suggesting"

"I have it on good conscious given head of drama asked me and because Teresa is head cheerleader and has basically already picked that she's gonna be Heather Chandler, we could help make sure"

"Yes?"

"That Y/n gets put as Veronica,"

"Yes!"

"And you as her JD"

"YES!" I yelled giving him a huge hug "Wait-"

"What?"

"uhhh I can't sing"

"Newt. this is high school theatre none of us can sing"

"But you really think you could?"

" you're first, really it's between you and Aris."

"Yeah that's what I'm worried about... aris is good, like really good"

"True, but I will do what I can to help butter her up, I kinda already knew you would, so auditions tomorrow at lunch"

"Tomorrow! I can't prepare an audition in... 19 hours. and also sleep"

"Newt, you're not telling me you know every lyric to those songs"

"....good point"

 "and I and Teresa will help butter the head of drama we promise"

"Wait... so, does Teresa-"

"Yes. she's my girlfriend of course I told her you have a thing for y/n"

"WHY!"

"She promised she wouldn't tell her, she's my girlfriend Newt I tell her everything"

"and yet I still got beat up for talking to her?"

"she has to keep up like she doesn't know, and I told her after"

"Well, thanks for telling me I'm just kinda worried how we're gonna pull this off I mean I can barely talk to y/n without stuttering and blushing like a mess you think I can handle a whole musical next to her? Have you ever seen a live version of dead girl walking, Veronica sits on JD's lap and rips her shirt off! y/n does that to me I'm gonna explode! Literally" 

"You'll be fine, you'll have months of prep to get to know each other better by the time you actually need to perform you two will be dating," He says "Now... I'm not hearing a thank you for telling you, getting you an audition and potentially getting you the girl of you're dreams"

"Thank you, Tommy"

"You're welcome"

"Pizza's here!" My dad yells from downstairs

"Coming!" I yelled back 

"You guys have got pizza?"

"My dad bet me A pizza if I talked to y/n today"

"Aww, I love your parents"

"They are great" 

"May I stay for a pizza slice?"

"You may Tommy," 

Admittedly I was so very sleepy I had been up all night, I must have listened to the soundtrack about six times to make sure I knew all the words. But I was getting more and more nervous the longer the day went on, I knew the lunch audition was coming and now I was shitting myself. 

"You ready?" Thomas smirked as he was basically pushing me down the hall 

"No, I'm not ready," 

"Liar, let's go, lover boy," he says kicking me into the drama room 

"Ohh that's more people than I thought" I gulped 

The large room with mirrors across one side and the smaller version of the stage in the main hall, and there were more people than I had hoped. 

"You said privately"

"I never officially said private"

"it was implied! I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die" I muttered hiding in my hoodie

"Let's get you a seat" he smirked pushing me to a chair beside him as he sat next to Teresa giving her a kiss "Hi babe"

"Awww hi" she giggled 

But that meant I'm sure intentionally I was next to y/n

"Ohh Hi newt"

"Ohh uhhh Hi y/n"

"I figured I might see you here, isn't it great we're doing heathers!"

"It is, it's amazing. you're gonna audition then?"

"I'm gonna try" she giggled "and you?"

"Ohh uhh well I uhh I thought maybe I'd wat-" I began but Thomas elbowed me "Yep yeah I am"

"Ooohh no no don't tell me I wanna be surprised" she giggled  

"Okay kids, Lets get this show rolling" Mrs Mary spoke up taking the stage

"Okay, kids. First I am going to let you into a little secret. Our department is low on funding. We are likely the lowest priority in the whole school, as I'm sure we all know high priority goes to the track team" She began

"Wooooo!" The track team yelled excitedly 

"Yes, yes" she sighed "Even the art club gets funding before us. So this is a shoestring of a budget. and the way we make our budget to keep the club alive is, Ticket sales." she explained "Which we have been severely lacking. I have produced the best musical ever written several times but that doesn't seem to be enough. So Fine! I'll sell out we're doing Heathers the musical"

"Yay!" Many cheered

"Yeah yeah, you little vipers. But I'm doing this not for art even if I will do my best to make it it's best. We are doing this for money. So I want advertising, recommendations, I want your families flying in from out of state to see you in this because by god if tickets are not sold out we don't go on, do you understand me!"

"Yes Mrs mary"

"Good. Now I have also asked my drama club to gather some cast members outside of our art and drama bubble, mostly because this musical has a cast of seventeen hundred, and because maybe that will bring in some new parents, siblings and really just dealing with the same ten of you is giving me a migraine. Now because of this, I am going to make sure anyone who auditions is cast somewhere be that onstage or off, but I will be putting focus on our new people. You drama rats have had your turns, Now, as I'm sure any of you who have goggled the script or ever seen this show will know full well this is not an easy musical, there are vocal moments, costume changes, impressive set and staging. this is gonna make the summer production of Grease look like a kindergarten Alice in Wonderland." She explained "So, I warn you now for any who don't know the musical well. There are no easy roles in Heathers. And to every girl hoping to be Veronica, I must remind you Veronica is in almost every song number, every scene, and is most of the script. if you are not prepared for that level of work, I suggest you go. The same goes for whomever if hoping to be our Jason dean. It's hard work, a hard role, even for a theatre brat."

[joandfriedrich]

Hi! I've watched the 2017 Little Women miniseries and wondered your opinion on it. I really enjoyed that version of Friedrich but I hate how they whitewash Jo and demonize Amy!! It's so unnecessary:(

Hello there! I want to preface my post with saying that it has been a few years since I have seen the miniseries, so if I got some details wrong, please be kind and help to correct me.

This version of Friedrich is one of the closest portrayals of Friedrich, especially in terms of looks, and certain moments that hadn't been seen in other versions are present here, such as Jo witnessing Friedrich helping a little girl to carry a coal bucket. I wish there was more of his best moments here, and I was a little sad that there was a moment where Jo got mad at him for disliking her writing for the magazine, as that was not in the novel, overall, I think Friedrich was handled very well here, just wish there was more of him.

In regards to Jo, I guess I never thought of portrayals of her in any way as being "whitewash". Laurie, most definitely, but what of Jo? According to the book, Alcott describes her as "very tall, thin, and tanned, with clumsy limbs that gave her an impression of a colt." Yes, Jo is described as having a darker complexion, but could it really be considered white washing? White washing is defined as "to alter (something) in way that favors, features, or caters to white people", and this seems closer to what has happened to Laurie, who described as being "dark", but Jo is described as "tanned", which is different, and tanned, as we know it, is described as someone who spent time in the sun enough for the skin to darken. Laurie's dark skin was natural, while Jo's was man made. In my opinion, Jo wasn't white washed, but rather her tomboy tendencies have been downplayed. I would like to see more portrayals of Jo has having more of an olive complexion, which we do see in the 2018 modern film, but I wouldn't say it's white washing.

As for Amy, I generally am not a fan of productions that use one actress to play child Amy and adult Amy, as I feel it often makes Amy look bad, whiny and immature, making the audience forget that she is a child. I think compared to some other productions that I have seen, I don't hate this version of her. While I think they should have has a child play young Amy, Kathryn Newton wasn't the worst actress to play child Amy, believe me, I have seen at least two where they play Amy with this high pitched whiny voice all the time and their mannerisms looked more cartoonish than realistic. I do like her adult Amy, as I think it's one of the best adult Amy's out there (this could have something to do with this production adding more scenes from the novel of her time in Europe to help this).

I think the worst version of Amy is the 2019 film, between the writing and the delivery, that Amy was just awful. My mom had practically seen every version with me, and she said that never before had she disliked Amy as much as the 2019 film. The way she coldly burns the manuscript and explains her reasons like a sociopath, then later gets whiny about why "no one is happy for me" when it's revealed that Aunt March is taking Amy instead of Jo. This version, in my opinion, really demonized Amy, playing her as this incredibly annoying, selfish, and acted as if she deserved her happy ending despite not showing the proper growth and maturity that is found in the book, and even a bit in the 2017 miniseries.

In short, the 2017 version may not be my absolute favorite, but it has overall great actors, beautiful scenery and music, and many moments from the book that hadn't really been explored in any other version. I would recommend this version more so than the 2019 film.

[vang0bus]

just existing aint enough so when it comes to my own birthday ill forgo the bags of stuff for a chance to prove ive earned them just a fork and knife and cup so i can eat my words and swallow all my pride and newtons first mistake was telling me that i could drop your heart and it would never break like an apple from a tree it might get bruised but it would take something greater than just gravity to crack its little walls and if you give me twenty bars ill write a hit but give me love and ill mishandle it newtons second son made his home there in the shadow of the handsome older one made an outline for a life he could be proud of when its done made his name but kept it strictly to himself but soon he grew too tall for the unmoving shadow to cover much of him at all but the firstborn didnt mind cause he was still best at basketball and he reminded him most any chance he got and you could give me peace on earth complete with proof you gave me love but all i wants the truth newtons third date was with a girl he wouldnt know he didnt love til far too late so i met him where desire merges with i-278 and he sat me down and gave me all his thoughts he said your birthdays coming soon and id be remiss if i didnt make some attempt at lassoing the moon even though to these festivities you say you are immune i cant help it see what else are fathers for and so he laid me down his laws so plain and clear and i just sat there fighting back the tears and he gave me all the love that i can take seems theres laws that even i cant break yes he gave me everything that i can take seems theres love that even i cant break btw. if you even care

[tagthescullion]

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: T Summary: Luke’s quest companion is dead. He’s alone, defeated, and not too far from Los Angeles, where Thalia’s estranged mother lives. Angry and hurt by Beryl’s indifference towards her late daughter’s fate, Luke might take justice into his own hands.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Newton

The house Luke had chosen was huge, which meant they might have more security, but there was less of a risk of being caught red-handed. 

He spotted the family sitting down for dinner and his stomach growled. 

Luke tried to ignore it as best as he could while he climbed to the second storey, towards a window somebody had left half open. 

He dropped silently into a soft beige carpet. It looked like a girl’s room. There was a unicorn pillow he bet Annabeth would’ve loved, but he hesitated to take it. He had no doubt the parents could replace it, but stealing from children felt indecent. 

He walked down the hallway, keeping an ear out in case any member of the family decided to come back upstairs for whatever reason.

He spotted more windows open in different rooms. He shook his head, rich people were so careless.

Finally, Luke found what appeared to be the main suite. He hadn’t been sure how old the other children of the house were, and at any rate, at 17, he was tall enough to fit in men’s clothes. 

The room was spotless, not a single detail out of place. The couple had no visible closet, but walking down a narrow passage, Luke discovered an overflowing walk-in closet. 

“Good gods,” he whispered. It was twice as big as the bathroom all his siblings and the unclaimed demigods shared back at Cabin 11.

Luke picked a pair of jeans that looked his size, and nicked another to have a spare. He took three shirts and a thin sweater that didn’t appear to have been used in the past decade. 

As he was leaving, he took a quick look into the bathroom. On one of the sinks, he spotted a can of deodorant. He really, really needed that.

He heard a man laughing down the stairs and hurried down the hall, back towards the room he’d come in through. 

He leaned out of the window and swore under his breath. Coming up had been relatively easy, but a thin, irritating drizzle had dampened the edge he’d used to climb.

He poked his head out of the room. A man –presumably the owner of the clothes Luke had taken–, was walking towards the main suite. 

Luke was sure he’d left everything untouched. Unless this guy had a sudden urge to reapply deodorant at 8 in the evening, he shouldn’t notice anything was out of place.

Luke didn’t want to stay longer than necessary, but walking downstairs now would be too risky. 

Instead, he slowly walked out of the room he was hiding in. He checked the next door –a bathroom–, the one after that –a baby’s nursery–, in front of that, he found a plain room. 

The bed had a dust sheet and nothing else. Luke hoped it was a guest room. 

He crouched behind the bed, out of sight of the door. It had been ajar, so he hadn’t wanted to close it fully, in case anyone thought to check.

He heard more people walk upstairs. A mother telling her kids goodnight, and walking into the nursery.

The woman stayed there for a while, singing lullabies that made Luke sleepy. After what felt like an eternity, she left the area. 

Luke waited a while longer. He had no watch, so he could only guess it had been long enough by watching the moon move in the sky out of the window. 

When he did stand up, his back was in pain, and his knees were cramped. 

He was careful to walk down the hall in absolute silence. He went down the stairs step by step, trying to avoid any creaking.

Luke put his hand over the entrance door’s doorknob. It wasn’t locked, only bolted. But if any of the neighbours saw him walking out of the house at whatever unreasonable hour that may be, they would talk, and Luke wasn’t sure how far away he’d be by then.

He opted for a backdoor, big houses always had those. 

Before he left the entrance hall he took a chance with the jackets hanging from the coat stand. He found $5.75 in loose change, and a wallet with $150. He took it all.

On his way to find the kitchen, he almost stepped on a dog’s tail.

“Gods, I’m sorry,” he muttered. 

The dog had leaped up and started wagging his tail cheerfully.

“You’re not a very good guard, aren’t you?”

Luke patted its head. The dog –Luke squinted in the dark to read its tag: Newton–, Newton took it to mean he should follow Luke around now.

“No, no,” he whispered. “Stay here.”

The dog ignored him.

Luke shook his head but kept walking. As long as his new buddy didn’t bark, he didn’t mind the company.

He found the kitchen at the end of a hallway and to the left, as if the architect had tried to hide it as far from the rest of the house as possible.

It wasn’t as tidy as the rest of the house: dirty dishes filled the sink, and somebody had spilled sauce on the counter. He wondered whether the family had a maid who had to deal with all of this.

They had locked the door to the yard, but the key was on the counter, so Luke didn’t have to use his superpower, as Thalia used to call it.

He opened the door slowly, wincing at the high-pitched whine it gave as the hinges turned.

He was partly out of the house when Newton barked.

“Shit!” He yelped. “Shhh! Shhh, you’ll get us both in trouble!”

The dog’s tail had stopped waggling. He looked sad.

Luke scratched him behind his ears to shut him up.

He listened for any sound upstairs, but nothing could be heard.

He searched the kitchen for any treats. In one of the cupboards he found a bag of dog snacks. 

He left some in Newton’s bowl and waited until the dog was tucking in before rushing out of the door.

Luke let out a sigh of relief when he’d closed it behind him.

He sprinted across the backyard, sneaking out of the same hole in the fence that he’d used to get in.

Luke tried to find a gas station that wasn’t the same he’d gone to before, they were bound to remember a dirty teenager with a big scar on his face walking around alone.

He walked until his feet hurt. He was tired, hungry, and thirsty. Once or twice he thought he saw something twitching in one of the sidewalk bushes, but after close inspection he decided his mind was playing tricks on him.

Luke guessed it had been a couple of hours when he finally saw the colourful lights of a gas station two hundred yards or so away.

The houses had thinned, and the street had become a long, dark road.

In the gas station cafe, a bunch of early commuters were already having coffee. 

Luke read the time from a big clock up on the wall behind the counter. 6.21. 

He bought a large espresso with a couple of chocolate croissants, which tasted so heavenly he could almost forget the repulsed expression of the man who sold them to him.

After devouring his breakfast, he tried to wash his hair on the sink as best as he could, and changed into his stolen clothes.

His fingers traced the scar on his face. He wondered if it would ever fade completely. He didn’t think so. He tried to avoid catching his reflection in the mirror as he dressed.

He felt surprisingly clean in the new outfit. The shirt smelled like lavender soap, and the deodorant was refreshing. He had to roll the cuff of his jeans a bit, but otherwise the fit was good.

He walked out confidently. 

“Excuse me,” he asked the cashier. “Would you know where to find the closest bus station?”

The man did a double take. He took in Luke’s new appearance. He hesitated before answering. Luke worried that he’d try to call the cops on him instead, then he remembered that he could certainly pass for 18 these days, it wasn’t as it had been when he’d been on the run with Thalia and Annabeth.

“There’s one fifteen minutes down the road,” the man said after some consideration. 

Luke nodded in thanks and left quickly. 

The bus station was open already, with a couple of buses ready to go.

“Where to, kid?” 

Luke smiled at the woman selling tickets. “Los Angeles, the sooner the better.”

“There’s a bus leaving in 50 minutes,” she pointed at platform 7.

“I’ll take that.”

It cost $43, leaving him a good margin for when he arrived in LA. Or for whatever eventuality arose on the way. 

The bus wasn’t all that full, which suited Luke fine. The less people staring at his disfigured face, the better. 

He wanted to stay awake until the bus started; that would’ve given him the opportunity to have a quick glance at whoever boarded with him, it wouldn’t be the first time he ran into monsters on long-distance travel vehicles. His exhaustion got the best of him, however. 

The moment he sat down, his consciousness gave away.

[katyliz415]

lil nas x said mpreg rights | my favorite songs from the plague year (2!)

2020 playlist | 2019 playlist | 2018 playlist

full tracklist under cut

arizona / ms. white // blaze & sybil's lullaby / ben dickey & alia shawkat // don't wanna / haim // brothers / hanggai // guitar song (live) / frou frou // the wellerman / the norfolk broads // julianna calm down / the chicks // let the tall ships sail / walter martin // my lagan love / the chieftains w/ lisa hannigan // ain't got no (i got life) / nina simone // silver dagger / dolly parton // infatuation / sophie // travelers / andrew prahlow // ode to billie joe / bobbie gentry // all together now / ok go // stil love / great caesar // rooftop dancing / sylvan esso // robert henry / the westerlies // doom days / bastille // in waves / house of waters // thunder clatter / wild cub // dear august / pj harding & noah cyrus // slow dancing / aly & aj // pledging my love / fawn wood // sono inochi / kaho nakamura // harlem / jazzboy // whiskey c'est mon ami / pine leaf boys // fabulous / c.u.t. // hainamady town / toumani diabete & the london symphony orchestra // runaway (guitar acoustic) / aurora // difyrrwch / the trials of cato // with you (a sweet little love song) / valeria june // half a mind / freddy & francine // in his arms / jack ingram, miranda lambert, & jon randall // angel island / the brother brothers // montero (call me by your name) / lil nas x // sahara / debanjan biswas & akshay dabhadkar // symptom of your touch / aly & aj // halfway tree / the east pointers // kiss me more / doja cat & sza // jubilee / the war and treaty // mara / jack garrett / ooh ahh! / miguel // fraulein / colter wall & tyler childers // the medicine man / keb' mo' & old crow medicine show // fruits of my labor / waxahatchee // buzz / maddie medley // whipporwill / chance mccoy // train song / feist and benjamin gibbard // garden / nahko and medicine for the people // down the road / stan rogers // rita mae young / the record company // last laugh / elise davis // empty threat / chvrches // find yourself / lukas nelson and promise of the real // dog in a manger / smooth hound smith // don't lose sight / lawrence // krivo polska / hazelius hedin, esbjorn hazelius, & johan hedin // i wish i was the moon / neko case // pizza day / lucky chops // surefire (piano) / wilderado // pilgrim / john mark mcmillan // live for it / moon taxi // remember when / tinashe // this can't be love / dinah washington // getaway / vincint & tegan and sara // without your love / the paper kites w/ julia stone // breath i breathe / ayla nereo // be and bring me home / neko case // jalebi baby / tesher & jason derulo // colors / black pumas // water me down / vagabon // stay (little dragon remix) / valerie june // shade of yellow / griff // cloudy day / tones and i // wine, beer, whiskey / little big town // song of my returning / phil ochs // skate / silk sonic // magnolia blues / adia victoria // i need my girl / aly & aj // rumors / lizzo feat. cardi b // long tailed winter bird / paul mccartney & idris elba // worry no more / amos lee // can't do much / waxahatchee // butter / bts feat. megan thee stallion // love's been a little bit hard on me / juice newton // devil like me / rainbow kitten surprise // in the image / beverly glenn-copeland // hands up / bent knee // verona (stripped) / geographer // coming home / honne feat. niki // oba, la vem ela / jorge ben jor

[small-strong-bookish-butch]

Listening to Maintenance Phase and hearing over and over, paraphrased:

This drug/diet/etc doesn't work unless you literally commit to it for the rest of your life

Once you go off the diet, your body will regain the weight because it's trying to not starve

The science behind this drug/diet was backed by drug/diet companies to make it seem like it worked better than it actually did

There were extreme side effects to using [insert drug name], but people used it because they feared being fat so badly

The [low calorie] food was marketed as such so that people wouldn't feel "guilty" when they ate more of it (and therefore bought more of the food to overcompensate)

The cost of the diet and healthcare industry being so fatphobic and fearmongering is much more expensive (and generates so much more money for the above industries!) than more helpful, universal solutions (covering health care for everyone, having free food for kids at schools, accepting that some people are just naturally fat and that's okay and normal, etc)

The data of [diet or weight loss drug] was not accurate and/or overblown and/or a bad sample size and/or proven to not actually work and they sold it anyway

and re-reading Thick and thinking about these passages:

“This is the violence of gender that happens to all of us in slightly different ways. I am talking about a kind of capital. It is not just the preferences of a too-tall boy [who prefers Olivia Newton-John in Grease], but the way authority validates his preferences as normal. I had high school boyfriends. I had a social circle. I had evidence that I was valuable in certain contexts. But I had also parsed that there was something powerful about blondness, thinness, flatness, and gaps between thighs. And that power was the context against which all others defined themselves. That was beauty. And while few young women in high school could say they felt like they lived up to beauty, only the nonwhite girls could never be beautiful. That is because beauty isn't actually what you look like; beauty is the preferences that reproduce the existing social order. What is beautiful is whatever will keep weekend lake parties safe from strange darker people.

Whiteness is a violent sociocultural regime legitimized by property to always make clear who is black by fastidiously delineating who is officially white. It would stand to reason that beauty's ultimate function is to exclude blackness. That beauty also violently conditions white women and symbolically precludes the existence of gender nonconforming people is a bonus. Some of the white girls I went to high school with may not have been beautiful. They may be thin when they should be fit or narrow of jaw when it should be strong. But, should power need them to be, social, economic, and political forces could make those girls beautiful by reshaping social norms. As long as the beautiful people are white, what is beautiful at any given time can be renegotiated without redistributing capital from white to nonwhite people.

As others have noted, Wolf does not do much work on how economic and political conditions produce a white hegemonic body as the ultimate expression of beauty. More precisely, Wolf demonstrates that as the sociopolitical context of whiteness—the political, state-sanctioned regime— tussles with historical forces like falling stock markets, mass media, suburbanization, and war, it will reshape an acceptable beauty standard for women that adjusts for body types, but never for body color. That was not Wolf's argument, but the absence of such a critique rather proves the point: beauty is for white women. It is a white woman's problem, if you are a feminist, or a white woman's grace, if you are something else not feminist. Beauty, in a meme or in the beauty myth, only holds as a meaningful cultural artifact through which we can examine politics, economics, and laws, and identity if we all share the assumption that beauty is precisely because it excludes nonwhite women.”

[shoeshineblue]

THE INVISIBLE MOUNTAINS OF WICHITA KANSAS

I arrive in Wichita at night, driving an elderly black lab in an elderly white Jeep from New Mexico to Kansas. Belle is my girlfriend’s dog. She has arthritis and dementia. She would have been content to live out her life in the Oklahoma panhandle where we stopped to pee. I built her a dog ramp, which is a long parallelogram made of wood and carpeting, designed to wedge into a passenger side door that creaks and no longer opens all the way. It is an arthritic situation but she is a good girl and we manage. The great brown nothingness of the desert cross-fades into the greener nothingness of Kansas. I have started over so many times that any sense of wanderlust has been exhausted out of me. I’ve built lives in Missouri, Washington, Idaho, Montana, Oregon, New Mexico, and now Kansas. In each place I leave behind all of the components that could sustain a person indefinitely, only to do it all over again.

My approach to exploring a new home is always the same. I ride my bike everywhere. A bike ride gets me in close to the invisible borders and restitched seams of a city. I ride past factories that only run at night and piles of scrap metal, tall as apartment buildings. I ride the skatepark where fear is grown then eaten through pain and repetition, and you can bum a cigarette off a fourteen year old.

Wichita allows its ghosts to live in the broad daylight of its progress. An abandoned factory meditates in a field, a dented limo is for sale, a boarded up corner store is a few blocks away from a multimillion dollar library. An

new city folds into a older city, then unfolds back into tallgrass prairie, where the only commerce is between rodent, serpent, and hawk. It is sliced up by rivers that binge and purge on spring rains and old railroad lines that have beat out the same rhythm for 150 years.

The first train to arrive in Wichita came in the dead of night in 1872. Twenty seven miles north, Newton, Kansas celebrated their first railroad a year earlier. Frederick Harvey stationed one of his famous Harvey Houses there. Despite the runaway progress of the railroads, dining had been barbaric and out of step with the sleek new world. Harvey Houses offered young capon in hollandaise sauce, prairie chicken with currant jelly, and with each oyster mounted on a cracker, the world became a little more dignified.

Sunday mornings in the midwest are quiet before church lets out. I have the streets to myself. Paved paths run for miles along the river. Skunks eat cat food from porches and snow egrets pluck catfish from the water. Canadian geese have stopped migrating because the retired woman living on Back Bay Boulevard has slowly domesticated them, generation after generation, with a simple fistful of seeds and a Simon and Garfunkel song that she hums into the Wichita wind.

In the late 1800’s, members of the Wichita Bicycle Club would ride 50 to 100 miles on high wheeler bicycles. This was years before roads were smooth and the advent of the pneumatic tire. By the 1900’s, newspapers like “The Daily Free Press” out of Winfield, Kansas, and “The Topeka Daily Capitol” hired fleets of bicyclists to deliver their papers. These bikes were the classic paper boy cruiser with balloon tires and swept back handlebars —a simple, comfortable machine that turns kids into adults and adults back into kids. These bikes would eventually be hacked and modified to become the first mountain bikes, ridden down the fire roads of Marin County,

California by a mix of disenchanted road racers and athletic Dead Heads.

My bike is ugly. This is no accident. It is secretly expensive, but I let it wear its scars and scratches so it can be locked up unmolested. It is a simple bike from a simpler time. I can take it apart and put it back together while drunk. I originally built it with a friend in Portland’s oldest bike co-op while listening to Madonna’s greatest hits. It has been hit by a car and bent back into alignment. It has dodged rattlesnakes and chased road runners in the foothills of the Sandia Mountains. It has done everything I have ever asked it to do. It is easy to fetishize a bicycle—a sleek, naked object with nearly all of its working parts exposed. Nothing is hidden except for the bearings, sealed away from the light and distractions of the world so they can fight their private war against friction. A bicycle is a kind, forgiving, perfect machine.

The cobblestone of Wichita’s arts district fades into the dirt and gravel paths that hug the Santa Fe line. The houses along the tracks are overgrown with weeds but the kettle grills are clean and well loved. Motorcycles are propped up on blocks with broken little headlights. Puncture resistant tires are necessary for this kind of urban industrial exploring. The ground is always churning a previous generation’s broken glass back to the surface along with ancient shards of limestone and tenpenny nails. The past is sharp, not smooth. Ugly riding is best done in ugly clothing on an ugly bike. Neon lycra will clash with the chainlink fences and barking dogs. Do not ride your thousands of dollars worth of carbon fiber through a world that still rests on the shoulders of steel. Blend in. Move like a feral cat from alley to alley—ears back, unnoticed. Feel the terrifying glory of being alone and riding where you are not supposed to be.

The old Beachner grain elevator on 21st street is a midwestern ruin. It crumbles and bleaches in the sun like the Colosseum in Rome or the

theatre at Epidarus. Its chalky silos make the blue Kansas sky seem Mediterranean. I ride into the abandoned truck lanes among piles of tires and broken concrete to reach the foot of the tower. The industrial graveyard sings a siren song to my bike, begging it to stay and rust and rot. Birds and small mammals repurpose the shadows to eat each other in the rubble. The food chain keeps eating until the last thing is chewed. Each time I ride to the grain elevator to touch the old monolith, I have the heavy feeling that I don’t belong there, that I should let the dead rest. The silence near the silo is absolute. Crows fly but do not caw. The wind does not rustle the weeds. I say something to hear the sound of my own voice, and it is swallowed quickly by something unseen. Maybe it’s the nature of decay. Even sound dies when it is no longer needed.

This is all part of an industrial corridor where old railroad lines divide the neighborhoods, creating a thoroughfare for trucks and bars and steakhouses that are forever “under new ownership”. Smoke billows from a nearby factory and it produces the most seductive smell, a bit like fried chicken mixed with pure cane sugar but with a forbidden chemical umami. I imagine it is what dogs experience when they are drawn to a pool of antifreeze dripping below the family car. I should ignore the smell and hold my breath but instead I think about lunch.

I’ve always loved the way factories look at night. From the right distance, they become small cities with lights beaming through steaming layers of metal. The piping moves like an improbable highway system, connecting one building to the next.

Train tracks ran through the west wing of the cosmetics factory where my parents worked. My first job was working at the same factory. It was difficult, repetitive work and I had to learn bizarre ways to occupy my mind, but it was one of the great lessons of my life. Everything I ever had as a

child; every meal, toy, bike, and pair of jeans was paid for by the raw hours my parents spent working the production lines. It’s a brutal equation, but my parents are masters at living within their means. While their coworkers were on the hamster wheel of debt with new Cameros, bass boats, and other status items of the midwestern 80’s, my parents were driving Japanese sedans into obscene mileage and paying off their modest house. I learned that work will build you a life, but after that you have to find a true way of living it. This is complicated because, as individuals, we are a mess of wants and needs and expectations. It’s hard for me because I like to write songs, toss noodles in a wok, tell jokes, and make friends with cats. Nobody is paying me for any of this, especially the cats, so work and self live separately.

My first instinct in Wichita is to fall back on what I know. I am hired to cook at a nice restaurant and I work there for exactly one day. The shift goes perfectly, but I have already lived this moment so many times. My heart is no longer in it. That type of high volume, high octane line cooking is best left to those who are still in love.

The city announces approval of a new central library to be built in a field on the west banks of the Arkansas River. Before ground is broken, I know I will work there. I ride by the site regularly, and for a year I watch dirt and grass become steel and glass. I interview my way in and land myself a challenging job that peels me like an onion skin, revealing my strengths and weaknesses. I find that I can process a lot of information and that I am a decent teacher, but I also learn that I can wreak holy havoc on an Excel spreadsheet. I can’t make the little boxes do what they are supposed to do so I click on them until they no longer do anything at all. The image of the quiet librarian sitting behind a desk and moving in a slow current of work does not apply to this job. Thousands of books and materials need to be

processed daily. I train clerks, negotiate large debts, and calm the nerves of unstable people. I track and perform forensics on a large print copy of The Grapes Of Wrath that has taken a mysterious joy ride though several library branches and has somehow put late fees on an elderly woman’s account. She is furious and swears up and down that she would never read Steinbeck. I make a joke about sour grapes and she laughs. The job fits me like a glove.

Great workers are everywhere. They are easy to spot in the service industry, where hustle is on display, but there are other forms of greatness. My car mechanic has the bedside manner of a pediatrician. I sit at diner counters if I can watch an experienced short order cook—someone who has spatulas for hands and can hear the inner thoughts of an egg. I note the economy of movement, the steady breathing, and the stillness in the face. Great workers will witness the full length of our species. They will build the first and last thing.

In the summer of 2017 I witness a perfect worker.

I break up with my laundromat. There have been too many lost quarters and blown out dryers. I am tired of the absentee owner—someone who comes in the dead of night to collect their fortune in change. Notes are posted on the bulletin board complaining of lost money, faulty washers, and dirty bathrooms. Most of them written in all caps.

To find a new laundromat, I look to the sky for smoke and follow the smell of chicken. A small jaunt north puts me in the Hispanic neighborhood, and there is a laundromat across the street from “The Chicken Man” who smokes whole birds in the parking lot of a used tire shop. On weekends, the empty lots fill with fruit vendors and people selling sweet corn, decorative blankets, and framed prints of the Santo Nino de Atocha. The

intersection is a Brigadoon. Most days the lots are empty, but on some days they turn into an impromptu market. Then it disappears again.

I walk into the new laundromat with a toppling pile of laundry. The double doors are awkward and an orange falls out of my open backpack. I don’t even eat oranges. It is caught before it hits the ground by a man in a starchy white shirt. He gives me a quick nod and places the orange gently back into my backpack before rushing off with a broom. All around there are houseplants, pinball machines, and a jukebox that plays Madonna’s Greatest Hits on a loop.

For the first time in my life I try a side load washer. I have always known the side loader is the superior machine, but laundry—like spaghetti and meatballs—is about memory and mothers. After a lifetime of watching my clean clothes come from the top of an off-white Maytag, it’s an emotional leap to trust the cold stainless steel washer with the porthole window. But you have to grow up sometime.

The floors are spotless. Every machine works. All of this is the work of one very industrious man—the man in the starchy white shirt, the orange catcher, the owner, operator, and lone employee. I usually read at the laundromat, but this time I watch the maestro at work. He does not cross the floor without picking something up or relining a garbage can. There is no wasted movement, and he works in a counter clockwise pattern— addressing washers, dryers, and folding stations systematically. Occasionally, he pops a few quarters in a pinball machine, lights it up, and leaves the extra plays for the chubby kid patiently waiting to take over. By the time the kid finishes the game, the man in the starchy white shirt has redistributed his fleet of wire push carts. All the while Madonna sings “La Isla Bonita”. Last night “she dreamt of San Pedro”. Today she turns this

laundromat into a dance floor.

The foundation of physical grace is good footwork. If the torso moves smoothly, know that the feet are skilled. I’ve seen one common move among many trades. I call it Plato’s Pivot, because I like to think that people have been doing this move since they were building the Parthenon in sandals. I learned it by working as a pizza cook, where I had to move quickly within a small space with another cook. The idea is simple. Turn one foot out in the direction you need to go, pivot the hips, take one long step, re-square the hips as the second foot drags into position, then reverse the motion exactly to return to your original position. The molecules of air should still be brushed aside to ease your return. This puts you in two balanced stances with the fewest amount of moves. I’ve seen cooks do this move, but I’ve also seen nurses, mechanics, and laundromat owners do it. Once I was watching an episode of Law and Order and saw a lawyer do Plato’s Pivot while revealing evidence. He pivoted to the judge, then re- squared himself to address the jury. I imagine the actor worked in a kitchen between auditions. Once Plato’s Pivot is in your feet, the Earth will forever glide beneath you.

I finish folding my shirts as Madonna explains to her Papa that he really shouldn’t preach. She’s made up her mind, she’s “keepin’ her baby”. She’s “in an awful mess and she don’t mean maybe”. I tuck my socks into one another and I agree with her. “What she needs right now is some good advice”. The owner and I exchange nods as I leave. Nice, efficient nods. No need to break his momentum.

By the summer of 2020 I am living alone in a large old house, two blocks from the Little Arkansas River and four blocks from the regular old Arkansas River. The rivers duck and weave until they meet in downtown Wichita. I have my own washer and dryer and no longer need the maestro,

but now I am in Covid lockdown and miss the small duties of life. I miss rummaging for quarters and waiting in lines. I miss the guilt of staying out too late at the bar. I miss playing music. I occasionally go to barbecues, baseball games, and street corners where I gossip with my neighbors, but these are stolen moments in a game of cat and mouse that we are playing with our health. Then I get into a hot summer fling with a drive-in theatre.

The Starlight Drive-In operates in a nostalgic dream. It is surrounded by mobile home parks, a roller rink, and a BMX track, where kids smoke in the berms. As the pandemic settles over us, drive-in theaters find themselves with a valuable asset: space. A bike ride to the Starlight Drive-In is an ambitious ride south along the riverbanks, and for a stretch, it becomes feral. People live in the woods and under bridges. I once saw a beautiful woman bathing nude under a bridge which was alarming in a thousand ways.

By bike, I can easily sneak into the Starlight through the tree line, but why would I do that? Why not give my money to help polish a rare gem? I strap a lawn chair to the rack of my bike and unfold it on one of the gravel mounds where you would park a car. I use a little transistor radio to pick up the audio and I brought a nice bottle of claret to pair with the chili cheese fries they sell at concessions. I’m a cheap date. I think about how simple and romantic this might be if I weren’t just one dude in a lawn chair, but whatever. Things converge and things fall apart. On the horizon a radio controlled plane does loop-de-loops in the last bit of light, and next to me an entire family snuggles under a single heavy blanket in the back of a Ford F150. Moments like these seem to contain everything, but I’m a world in a raindrop kind of guy. This is initially charming to women, that so much can be had with so little, but after a few years of this, the world must feel a bit small. Thus the one dude and one lawn chair.

Tonight’s feature is 1987’s “A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors”, a movie that features a young Patricia Arquette and a killer song by Dokken. The last surviving children of the parents who burned Freddy Krueger find themselves together in a psychiatric hospital. They try group hypnosis in an attempt to have a shared dream so they can finally put the old demon to rest. That’s kind of what it is to watch a movie with other people, a shared dream. The bike ride and the chili cheese fries and the wine make for a great first half of the movie. I’m having the time of my life, but by the second half I start nodding off in my chair. If there is one message the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise promotes, it is don’t fall asleep! That’s when the Freddy Krueger gets his sharp little hands a- cookin’. But there I am, shifting around in a lawn chair on a mound of gravel on a hot summer night, batteries dying in my dumb little radio, not sure if I’m still in the shared dream with everyone else or completely on my own.