#okay. Now we’re done. back to silly posting

[dear-ao3]

the 2024 formula 1 silly season and drama master post, part 2 (part 1 here)

Hello and welcome to ah fucking fuck auto caps fuck fuck fuck how do i turn off auto caps AHA there we go okay. take 2

hello and welcome to the great and very insane formula 1 2024 season drama post, part 2. if you are new here or are just looking for part one (which contains the previous 16 (?) races, the off season, pre season testing and everything else, that can be found HERE. (a word to the wise: open it in a browser, not the app, and preferably on a computer to avoid crashing. its fucking long). 

what the hell is formula 1? car go fast. fastest cars in the world zoom around tracks at top speeds of over 300kph, piloted by the top 20 drivers in the world. it might not sound dramatic, but oh man. you will Not be disappointed. this post focuses on the drama, the insanity, the sheer what the hell how is this a serious sport. no legitimately. we've just about seen it all this year. grindr, dogs, watersports, ice cream brands, its all here.

the point of this post? to educate, to catalog the insane drama, and to just have a good time. people like to gatekeep this sport, there is also a lot happening. i try to make it easy to understand. again, probably best to start at the beginning of the post because it does a pretty good job of explaining things, which i began way back in january, and can be found HERE (again, shes long, be careful)

and, as usual, if you do not want to see this post EVER AGAIN, block the tag #saph explains silly season 2024

and a second caution, i assume this post will be getting long as well. including this one we have minimum 9 updates left!

anyway, those of you who have been following along the whole time, welcome back! i know we got a little delayed. and i know we’re on a new post, so lets just briefly take a second for me to explain what the fuck happened. first i had an anatomy test, second i work 2 jobs with fuck ass hours, third tumblr decided to stop letting me look at any of my drafts, fourth tumblr support ghosted me about the drafts issue and the post was half saving half not so i just decided fuck it, were going with post 2, electric boogaloo, and fifth, i decided to start typing this instead in a google docs so. many changes. if you're new here i am usually more on top of this.

but here we are. were back on street circuits. we’re in baku, azerbaijan, for the start of the last third of the season. 8 races remain, world championship titles are still within grasp of multiple people. the drama is dramaing. and today is september 22, 2024 and lets fucking go. 

first and foremost, on account of the fact that this post is late (again, see above), were going to have to do a bit of a speed run. if you're new here, i promise that this is not representative of my normal dedication to the update post. and for those asking, yeah, ill probably compile it somewhere better than a tumblr post after its all said and done, but we don't have time for that now. 

what we do have time for is the Off Week (and like some of the media stuff). and it was filled with silliness: 

george russell decided to wear what can only be described as slightly ugly yellow short shorts with his taylor swift shirt that he got at the eras tour. this was baffling for several reasons, the main reason being that i don't think the internet knew that he was capable of wearing a graphic t shirt

fernando alonso got his aston martin valkyrie finally. in case you are unfamiliar, a valkyrie i think is the worlds fastest street legal car. he posted tweets about this that made it seem like he wanted to fuck the car. hilariously, the car broke down an hour later.

we also had the very thrilling conclusion to grill the grid. oscar won and he somehow managed to look more pleased about his grill the grid win than his first race victory. 

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nico rosberg went to the green awards and he wore a fantastically insane teal blue suit. yes i know hes not a current driver. but you all like hearing about him so ask and you shall receive. unfornunately i cant find a picture of it though

and also not a current driver is mick schumacher, but my roommate asked me to include that he was seen on his girlfriends instagram being bad at golf. like. exceptionally bad at golf. like he hit a tree 20 feet in front of him.

also playing golf was lando norris. except he managed to look like try bolton from high school musical 2.

he also talked about the world driver championship with his friend max fewtrell while they were playing golf. unfortunately i lost this link in the sea of technical difficulties, but the gist of it was that he was saying that there is still hope for him to beat max in the championship (hes about 60 points behind right now). lando doesnt usually talk about the championship because he doesnt want news outlets to paint him as “desperate” so this was interesting

charles leclerc had an insane off week. first he rear ended someone in monaco. then he spoke at a yacht conference. he was not scheduled to speak at said yacht conference, he was there doing something else and they were like hey you're cool people know you, heres a microphone. he alsp ended up on a weather channel while promoting a karting event he was doing for the jules bianchi foundation (his god father, the one who died during the f1 race in japan 2014). he also changed his instagram pop and re centered it because some random tiktoker told him it matched his aesthetic better.

oscar piastri posted a photo of himself sitting in the cockpit of a plane and then promptly deleted it. because he posted it on 9/11. for anyone who doesnt know what that is, that was when some terrorists hijacked commercial planes and few them into the world trade centers in nyc and the pentagon in washington dc

max verstappen also posted a plane pic with himself and lando norris, but he did not delete it.

we also had the return of daniel ricciardo’s jpg instagram account, which is kinda like a finsta for photos that hes taken. i think lando started this a few years ago. 

heading into the race week we certainly got a weird ass batch of pr. including but not limited to:

lewis hamilton was back on top and slaying in the fit game. as was yuki. 

lewis hamilton also exposed george russell as listening to katy perry pre race. katy perry and taylor swift (this was after he claimed that he liked listening to old school rap music.) though, lewis then started singing wrecking ball???? confusing vibes all around

george was not off the hook yet tho because some intern definitely make him say skidibidi toilet or whatever the thing is idk, i might be gen z but im not insufferable, okay? actually george in baku was just all kinds of unhinged

george and alex also got up to something, what it is no one knows but it is clearly something

max pulled up to the paddock de aged about 10 years. picture one is of him in baku in 2015 (i believe he was 17) and picture 2 is this year. no i am not kidding. 

and franco walked into the paddock telling everyone about argentinian mate (which is a drink, not a friend)

and max shoved a microphone out of the way so everyone could gossip

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then of course, we had some slightly more relevant drama

haas announced that ollie would be replacing kevin at baku. in case you forgot, kevin magnussen received a total of 12 penalty points over the season so far, which means he gets one race ban. how did he get the points? well he was mostly wreaking havoc on everyone else so that his teammate, nico hulkenberg, could drag his car into the points. lets all remember the time in saudi arabia where he managed to get 20 seconds of penalties by basically driving like a mad man just to make sure that nico could keep his position after he pit stopped. anyway, nico was kind of pissed about the race ban situation and said “maybe the guidelines for F1 penalties need to be reviewed as the stewards ‘want to get involved’ no matter the contact.”

in any case though, k mags was out. and ollie was in. we’ve seen ollie before. notably he subbed in for carlos sainz at the saudi arabia gp when carlos had appendicitis. he managed to get points as well. since then, he has been announced as a haas driver for 2025 and is now subbing in for k mags (haas, later in the week called him a super sub. clearly no gen z person read that over.) he can do this because ferrari has a haas engine so they share reserve drivers.

adrian newey finally got employed. i know! i can hardly believe it either! but he did! and youll never guess where! 

ferrari? no that would be too obvious. 

mercedes? nah

williams? no too much of a shit show

aston martin? ding ding ding! just the right amount of shit show! 

that is right. newey is going to aston for 2025. 

apparently he was offered a “good package” according to himself, which i assume means pay and also the fact that lawrence stroll made him a shareholder? stakeholder? whatever its called. in the team itself. basically he has a lot of power. 

he said that he always wanted to work with fernando and lewis. and he couldn't do both. and aston had a better package than ferrari. 

fernando looked positively evil during all the announcement pictures. and called the team "definitely the team of the future" and for those of you who don't know, fernando is positively evil. hes just been stuck in a shit box and we havent seen very much of him, but man does he know how to evilly slut it up. so that will be fun to see.

by contrast, people said that lance was not excited enough. and well. lance 1. has resting bitch face and 2. never really looks excited about anything. also he lives in a world where take your child to work day somehow became his job. (his dad owns the team).

lewis hamilton was asked what he thought about adrian not going to ferrari, and here's what he had to say:

"i feel like, while I have mentioned before that it would be an honor to work with adrian, i have been privileged to work with two championship winning teams that didnt have adrian."

mclaren announced pato o ward would do FP1 in mexico. who is pato o ward? hes one of mclaren’s indycar drivers and one of the f1 reserve drivers. he is incredibly charming and definitely runs his own social media as seen here:

mclaren Also claim they figured out who their number 2 driver is and they claim its oscar. i say they claim because the statements were a lot more complex than that. essentially, according to andrea stella, the priority is to the team first, then lando and then oscar. so they didn't outright say that oscar is the number 2 driver and i am willing to bet real money that this is because mr mark webber, oscars manager, has something in oscars contract that prevents him from being a number 2 driver. this is of course because mark webber was one of the most infamous number 2 drivers in f1 history to none other than menace war criminal sebastian vettel, who in their time as teammates, managed to win 4 back to back world champions. or, top to bottom if you're mrs darbus from high school musical. 

lando was asked about this and he said that yes, the team does support him. though he would not expect oscar to give up a win for him and that it is more complex behind the scenes. i suppose we will see if there are any papaya rules coming out this weekend….

and oscar said "i think the main point is its not purely just going to be me pulling over for lando every single race, because thats how none of us, including lando, wont want to go racing, if we feel that someone has done a much better job on a weekend, whichever way it is, we want that person to be rewarded."

max verstappen commented on the mclaren situation as well. which was funny mostly because red bull has one of the most defined number 1 and number 2 drivers of any team. he said "you look at it form oscar's perspective, he is closer to lando than lando to me. they have to deal with that."

and allow me to put on a tin foil hat as we are about to talk about the future of the red bull seat. because all i have to offer here is a baseball hat and a red bull can. 

a long time ago we talked about the red bull cans. the ones that red bull makes to promote f1. at the end of last season red bull put max and checo on the red bull can. this season at the start it was just max on the red bull can. well. now checo has reappeared on the cans too. and i will tell you what i think this means. it means that checo is not getting swapped this season, which was a possibility for awhile. 

but! there is more! 

daniel ricciardo made an instagram post this week. and it was very interesting. but most interestingly he was wearing a red bull hat.

which he does occasionally, no big deal really. he did race for the for several years, he technically does currently. BUT then he showed up TO THE PADDOCK wearing the red bull hat.

which is Big Interesting. usually you show up in a statement outfit or wearing the team kit. and daniel is not a red bull racing driver. he is a visa cashapp racing bulls driver. they might be owned by red bull but they are Not the same team. so why the red bull hat. in the paddock. well, the rumor is that hes taking checos seat for 2025. and the rumor is that this will be announced before mexico. so checo can have a proper send off. 

and with that. the baku lore. 

theres a lot that has happened at baku. as i said its a street circuit. and i think its the fastest street circuit. but over the years theres been some notable events. 

such as the great kimi raikkonen radio for gloves and steering wheel:

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they gave mini kimi this week gloves and steering wheel in honor of that

the max and daniel crash in 2018 when they were running p1 and p2 respectfully

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and of course. how could we forget. charles’s infamous “i am stupid” radio.

speaking of charles, he crashed again in fp1. not quite in the same spot, but nearly. he took a picture with the marshalls. 

then in fp2 he rage quit, basically saying that the car sucks. 

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but he was back and better than ever in practice three because he managed to top the time charts. welcome back fuck ass ferrari.

some other teams definitely experienced the lows but not really the highs of baku during practice. like lance stroll who came on the radio to say “this is not a car” (good thing they have adrian newey now, right? 

franco colapinto also cut his ear before practice on the neck strengthener stretcher thing that they all use and the team wanted to give him stitches but he was like no no no i need to be in the car in about 5 minutes im not doing that. so he jammed on his helmet and jumped in the car. he also crashed and when he went to the medical center he took off his helmet and there was blood everywhere and they were like no no no you cannot race! and he was like no! this is not from the crash! and then explained it and they let him do qualifying. 

also im pretty sure? ollie bearman crashed? in practice? but frankly i don't have time to google it so whos to say. 

but alas. qualifying. 

i know i know this is kind of a shitty update. i promise ill go all out in singapore. i PROMISE. 

so as i said. its a street circuit. high speed. 90 degree corners. and also windy as hell. we also had the dynamic duo of karun and harry in the commentary box. 

max led the first practice, george led the second and i think charles led the third. or some order like that. 

slipstream here is almost essential (slipstream: going behind another car to reduce the wind drag so you can go faster) 

charles has the last three pole positions (first in qualifying) here in baku, but he has never won. by comparison, red bull have never had pole here but they have won. 

and franco has never been to baku before. 

i think that's all the exposition that we need here. 

q1 started with max complaining about his car. “the car is jumping around like crazy on the rear axle” he said. despite this he was sitting in p3. 

the mid field battle though….the mid field battle was heating the hell up. mostly because none other than franco colapinto, who if you will remember, has never been to baku before, had split the two ferraris. he was in third for the moment, .109 seconds behind carlos sainz and .159 seconds ahead of charles leclerc. we still had a lot of qualifying left to go, so this was probably not going to stay, but it was still insane. he was pushing insanely hard, nearly kissing the walls. clearly he had learned from his crash in practice. 

the two mclarens waited until the very end of q1 to do their final flying push lap, and oscar made it through, but tragedy struck for lando. 

lando was in the middle of his last flying lap, time was ticking down, and there was a Very Brief yellow flag on the track. now, according to rules, you cannot complete your flying lap if there is a yellow flag. so lando pitted and was stuck down in 17th and out of qualifying. this would be the first time that he was out in q1 since vegas last year (which if i remember correctly was also not his fault) 

now though, of course nothing is ever that cut and dry. people thought that there had been a mis showing of a flag. yellow flag means that a car is stopped on track, white flag means that a car is going slowly on the track. and people thought that there had been a yellow flag shown when it was actually supposed to be a white flag (if there had been a white flag then lando would have been able to keep doing his flying lap) lando himself said that he had no idea what people were talking about because there is a light on the steering wheel that lights up when flags are called and he had a big yellow light. so it was clearly a yellow flag. 

if you're concerned about lando being able to pull it out of the bag, id like to point you in the direction of the mexican gp last year where lando qualified 17th and finished 5th. on a track that was hard to overtake on. he can be absolutely insane when he wants to be. worry not gentle reader. 

in any case. also out in q1 was daniel ricciardo, valtteri bottas, zhou guanyu and esteban ocon.

and notably, williams, who was on fucking fire this weekend as we already saw, finished q1 with alex albon in second (ahead of oscar) and franco colapinto in 8th. pierre gasly had somehow managed to also get into 4th. and nico hulkenberg was in 7th with ollie bearman in 13th. i told you the mid field battle was heating the hell up. 

q2. everyone zoomed straight out of the gate. they didn't want to get lando norris’d. but, speaking of that, if lando managed to get no points in the race and charles managed to win, charles would overtake lando in the drivers championship. mark webber himself told this to charles, who was absolutely baffled. 

in any case, charles was kinda suffering right now and that was because he was not getting slipstream from carlos to make his lap faster. meanwhile, carlos seemed to be actively trying to give charles the slipstream because he came on radio to say “he keeps missing the tow” 

and amazingly, franco colapinto was 4 tenths AHEAD of alex albon. alex albon who had not been unqualified by his teammate once since the start of 2023. ex red bull driver alex albon. that alex albon. 

max topped the times in q2, followed immediately by charles. insanely, fernando alonso managed to drag the aston martin to fifth. and franco was right behind him in 6th. by comparison alex albon was in 10th. 

and from q2 we lost ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda (who has never qualified lower than 8th in baku), pierre gasly, nico hulkenberg and lance stroll. so yes, ollie bearman managed to outqualify nico hulkenberg. this is ollies second ever f1 race. 

steaming on forward to q3. 

we had, for review, in q3 the following: 

both ferraris, both red bulls, both mercedes, both WILLIAMS (has not happened since vegas 2023), plus fernando alonso and oscar piastri. 

right out the gate it was wild. 

“red bull! theyve re found their mojo! or have they!” karun said. red bull were in 5th and 6th and not entirely sucking for the moment. 

everyone did one flyer and then came out at the end for a second flyer. 

here were the standings: 

charles, carlos, oscar, george, checo, max, lewis, alex, franco, fernando

and everyone was making it to the line and all was going smooth until-

wait a second what is that

could it be! alex albon! with the air box fan still on his car! surely not!!!

oh but it was! and harry and karun were like oh wow so unfortunate for williams tisk tisk

meanwhile ted jumped on the radio to Loudly announce to everyone that this was insane and if i have time here i will put the rant he ranted cause it was Fantastic.

and what do you know i have time

so we had 3 minutes left qualifying and everyone was pulling out of the pits for their last flyer when oscar hopped on the radio to say

"the williams still has the air box fan in"

"oh what an error! disaster for williams!" karun and harry said. they speculated if the marshalls could get it or if the session needed to be red flagged. but alex threw the fan off the car.

and then they asked "ted have you ever seen that before?" and ted did not hold back:

"ITS A MASSIVE YELLOW FAN HOW COULD YOU MISS IT???!!! HOW COULD THE MECHANICS MISS IT???? I CANT BELIVE THEY WOULD MAKE SUCH A MISTAKE DOWN AT WILLIAMS! SUCH AN EXPERIENCED BUNCH OF GUYS AND GIRLS! WHAT IS GOING ON AT WILLIAMS OPERATIONALLY? HOW COULD YOU SEND A CAR OUT LIKE THAT?"

alex, obviously, got fined for an unsafe release 5k euros. he also had to throw the fan off to the side and got slightly covered in dry ice. he did not get to the a second flying lap. 

franco did tho!

and here were out qualifying results: 

p1: charles p2: oscar p3: carlos p4: checo p5: george p6: max p7: lewis p8: fernando p9: franco p10: alex  p11: ollie p12: yuki p13: pierre p14: nico p15: lance p16: daniel  p17: lando p18: valtteri p19: zhou p20: esteban 

oh ho ho but we werent done yet. because pierre gasly got disqualified from qualifying. for failing fuel flow regulations. and lewis was going to have to start from the pit lane for changing his power unit. 

everyone, and by everyone i mean oscar max and checo, pretty much said that charles was going to get pole no matter what, they knew this coming in and the best they were trying for was second

onto the race. 

notably, this is considered a checo track. this was one of the three races that max did not win last year. because checo won it. its a track that he does well on, evidenced by the fact that he qualified above max in qualifying. so people were expecting big things from him.

and so, we head into lap 1.

charles managed to hang onto the lead. checo passed carlos straight out of the gate for third and max managed to pass george to take fifth. lando had managed to get ahead of nico and up into 13th. notably, franco held onto 8th and ollie was able to hold onto tenth. 

someone who was not doing well was lance stroll, who came on the radio saying that he had a puncture. this was from contact with yuki. lance had to pit for fresh tires and was pretty immediately thrown to the back of the grid. 

by lap 2 lando had managed to get past daniel and was in 12th, he was trying to get past yuki next, which he managed by lap 3. yuki also lost a  spot to nico. 

also slaying in the mclaren was oscar, who took fastest lap. then charles took fastest lap.

and lewis hamilton, who had started from the pit lane, was up to 16th. already. somehow. though he was displeased with the tires, sayig that “this tire is pretty bad” over the radio. 

yuki meanwhile was clearly having a problem because he had started going very very slowly. thought the pit wall said that he had no problems. this would later turn out to be false but we will indulge them for the time being. 

franco was STILL ahead of alex albon on lap 6. STILL. 

lando on lap 8 managed to push his way into points positions, overtaking ollie bearman for 10th. though this was where things were about to slow down for him because in front of him were alex, franco and fernando, who were all very close together and would be hard to get past. 

george was back in bad luck hell as a plastic bag entered his airbox. will he ever catch a break. 

on lap 11 nico hulkenberg finally caught up with ollie bearman and passed him for 11th. 

and max’s car was not working. to potentially no one’s surprise. “i have zero bite in the car” he said. and this was probably true because checo was a whole 6.5 seconds ahead of him. insane gap. 

several pit stops later that i will not detail out because we simply do not have the time, alex albon ended up in 4th and lando ended up in fifth. and oscar was about to get undercut by checo. 

“mojo seems to be back for checo perez” harry said, correctly. 

mojo was back for him indeed. and now he was right behind lando. 

and if you will recall, according to mclaren themselves, priority at mclaren is the team first, then oscar, then lando. but oscar was ahead of lando. so what did mclaren do? 

they asked lando do hold up perez, but not compromise his own race. 

remever a long time ago when i said mclaren wouldn't have any internal drama this season? man how i was wrong.

lando managed to hold up perez for around a lap or two before he got past. this was crucial because this was during when oscar was in the pits. 

thanks to lando and the power of the papaya rules teamwork, oscar ended up coming out in 4th, only .706s ahead of checo. 

mclaren are working together everyone! mclaren are working together!

meanwhile, turns out that yuki did indeed have problems because he retired on lap 17 with a hole in his sidepod from the contact with lance on lap 1. this was now two races in a row where he had had to retire for reasons out of his control. 

several more people pitted. and eventually charles was back out in front, oscar was in p2. until he wasn't. no, he didn't dnf. he overtook charles! he was in p1! he popped out of nowhere! nowhere being 2 car lengths back and just flooring it to spring around charles like a little silly slinky! karun called it a “good, fair and robust defense,” which sounds like its descibing notes in wine. but this was not wine. this was the baku gp. and we were only half done. 

ollie bearman was defending against lewis hamilton, holding on tightly to 14th place. 

charles was still behind oscar and he could not get past, despite the fact that he was still very much in spitting distance. “they are pushing like crazy or they have more grip than us” he said. 

carlos got past both lando and alex albon and was up into 4th

this brought max up behind lando. max was on 11 lap old tires and lando was on 24 lap old tires. but lando still defended like hell and managed to hold onto sixth. max was 0.632 seconds behind lando on lap 25 when he said that “my brakes are not working.” this was hardly a surprise. max has hated the car since china.

also experiencing technical difficulties was sir lewis hamilton. he was stuck down in 14th and was first told to do “everything you can do to get the surface temp down” of the tires. he said “im trying” then several laps later on lap 29 he came on the radio to say “are you seeing how i have to drive this thing?” “yes,” bono, his engineer said. “quite effective though.” 

max was still half a second behind lando. mclaren faked a pit stop call over the radio to get max to pit. he did not. 

but, george russell did manage to pass him. which was “not good for max’s world champion aspirations.”

this was also when ted very bafflingly said that “if i had a sofa in the pit lane i would be jumping up and down on it” im not sure what that was in response to. 

meanwhile, ollie was still holding off sir lewis hamilton. and charles was trying to get oscar to pit again by lying over the radio. it was not working. 

lando did a pit stop finally and came out a whole 15 second behind max. he was hoping to catch max by the end of the race. but it might be tight. lets go last lap lando. 

“lando, imagine andrea on your shoulder saying ‘zero wheel spin’ in every exit,” lando’s race engineer said. if you're confused, everyone else was too. 

10 laps to go and here were the order of affairs:

oscar

+.449s charles +1.865s checo +2.989s carlos +16.530s george  +1.909s max +11.535s lando +9.715s fernando +2.589s alex +2.451s nico +4.667s franco +1.590s lewis +1.261s ollie +1.791s pierre +9.205s daniel +23.919s esteban  +.789s lance +3.862s valtteri +3.631s guanyu 

lando was determined. he took fastest lap on lap 43 and was 8.8s behind max

at this point, the leaders were starting to lap the cars in the back. “the back markers are starting to come up,” checo’s engineer said to him. “its going to get messy.”

“hold onto your hats and if you don't have one go get one and hold onto it” harry said. harry would turn out to be correct. 

we had the top 3 all running very close to eachother, that was oscar, charles and checo and “welcome to the party carlos sainz!” who was now 1.2 seconds behind checo in the four way battle for the lead.

definitely not leading was lance stroll, who retired on lap 47 with a brake problem. 

oscar managed to pull ahead of charles by 1.5 seconds, finally knocking him out of DRS range. so now it was a three way battle for second. and charles had “no rear tires. no rear tires at all.” 

and, just like i said he would, lando managed to pass max on lap 49. he was closing the gap slowly in the championship. 

“verstappen’s day goes from bad to worse,” harry said. because lando still had fastest lap, so he would score 3 more points than max. which is important if lando wants to beat max in the championship (though i think hes still like 60 points behind)

meanwhile! franco managed to pass nico hulkenberg for 10th! he was in the points!!!! at his second race!!! 

but this was short lived because there was a crash! a big smackeroo! between carlos and checo!! checo was mad, carlos didn't know what happened. 

what happened was that carlos was trying to pass checo but checo did not move over. it was deemed an equal fault accident. both of them were utterly confused at what happened and apparently spent 20 minutes in the medical center being utterly lost and aparently saying that sometimes this sport sucks. and! contrary to what several people said! checo did not bang on carlos’s helmet after the crash. 

the crash actually caused chef's dad to have a heart attack. he is stable now.

and well. this clip of george from the post qualifying interviews definitely didnt age well:

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but! since we were a matter of a few laps from the end, this meant that the rest of the race was finished under a virtual safety car. 

which meant 

OSCAR PIASTRI WINS THE AZERBAIJAN GP

and george inherited p3! 

and on his own merit too! no safety cars, no team orders, no weird shit! 

“yes!” he whispered over the radio. 

he almost fell getting out of the car, then gave us all the “one moment” hand gesture before properly celebrating. 

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he also got driver of the day! 

(this was marginally better than george russell, who said over the radio “i cant get any rubber (to pick up on his tires) all im getting is leaves”)

gunther steiner also hosted the post race interviews. which was interesting. 

george said that the most difficult part of the race was “driving full gas into a wall of carbon fiber on the penultimate lap…the vsc should have come out sooner” 

charles bashed ferrari because they didn't do any high fuel runs in practice. 

oscar was entirely pleased. “i managed to overtake and hold onto it for the next 35 laps..one of the better races of my career.” and honestly, oscar winning a race straight after mclaren basically announcing that he was their number 2 driver is nothing short of hilarious.

and! mclaren was now leading the constructors championship by 20 points! for the first time in ten years!!!!

the top three had a moment outside of the car that was filled with baffled: 

and oscar's engineer tom got to stand on the podium with him. he usually takes a selfie with oscar after each race he podiums at, but he was too excited to so george took this picture for them

(george also aparently demomished oscar in a game of uno on the plane, immediately humbling him)

george also shielded himself from the champagne on the podium

the cooldown room reacted to the crash in a very straight forward manner:

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and very quickly cause its midnight and the singapore gp starts in 8 hours, the post race, speed ran: 

-mark webber told off laura winter for thinking that oscar didn't have good tire management

-alex albon was “super happy, that's a lot of points for us” (williams finished in 7th and 8th). he cut his own interview short when ollie bearman arrived, saying “I can go, im happy to go” and then waving comically. 

-williams was so pleased with this result they blasted everyone with champagne. and they overtook alpine in the constructors championship! this was also their best race finish all season

-(and a quick note, if youre going to really blame logan for being that shit of a driver here, please remember that the car he was driving was several rounds of upgrades behind alex's pretty much the entire time he was driving it)

-ollie became the first driver to ever score points in his first two races for two different constructors because the double dnf pushed him up to 10th place. he said that there was not much difference between the haas and the ferrari, the ferrari was just red

-franco continued to charm everyone and flirt with the reporters. 

-they interviewed george and lewis and the camera had to be adjusted for george's height. it was comical and resulted in my favorite edit so far of the season (sound on)

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-lando looked pleased and happy for once. he said about holding off checo that “i didn't hold him up i just had to cool my tires a little.” he was delighted to be leading the constructors for the first time in ten years and he defended alex albon saying “i struggled to get past alex for a while, which is common, alex doesnt make mistakes.” he also ratted on max for going to fast during the VSC and said “i didn't complain, facts were stated.” and to sum it all up he said that “im executing things well, i’m very quick…i’m not going to be the happiest guy, but i am never the happiest guy….car is performing well everywhere…some red cars behind us seem to be our biggest competitors right now” 

-by comparison george insulted all of pirelli. the tire people. “pretty infuriating that it (the pace) changes this so much….its black magic, people who make the tires don't understand the tires…..for 20 laps we had a car not worthy of points and for 20 laps we had a car fighting for victory and the only difference is the tires.” 

-lewis was notably upset after the race and walked through the paddock with his helmet on, not wanting to talk to anyone. but he did talk to franco and ollie and congratulate them on a job well done defending against him and racing against him. franco even fangirled over this on his instagram. 

-charles was clearly upset with ferrari. he was so upset he posted a thirst trap.

-and oscar. oscar was very happy this afternoon. and his mom was there! she doesnt usually come cause it scares her, but nicole was there today! 

-mclaren celebrated with a hell of a lot of champagne. both oscar’s wina and lando’s insane recovery, and the fact that they were leading the championship. red bull have been dethroned, at least for now. 

-there was so much champagne that lando took off his socks to spray it. all seems well at mclaren. 

-at least one thing is for sure, oscar had a better time here this weekend than last year when he got food poisoning and only ate four pieces of toast

and with that. we head into singapore. quite literally as it is starting in a few hours. again, i apologixe about this post. its a little sad, but the next one will be better. pinkly promise. 

see you all soon!!!

[quietwingsinthesky]

actually i guess the real lesson is that if someone tells you the thing they want to avoid so they don’t get triggered, and you think that’s a silly thing to upset them and ignore that to talk about it anyway, you should maybe not do that. i think that makes you a bad person.

[lordsukunas]

piggyback rides

synop: you want trueform!sukuna to give you a piggyback ride and he doesn’t know what it is. that’s it.

tags: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader (referred as woman once, refers to self as ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ once), ooc sukuna (only bc he’s less of an asshole), possessive behavior (kind of?), mentions of sukuna-typical violence, likely historically inaccurate, not proofread. i couldn’t determine whether or not he was actually wearing a haori or something similar - correct me if i’m wrong n i’ll change it!

notes: basic ass title ik... erm sorry! another post in two days is a miracle so i’m a little proud of myself. half-assed ending lol... anyway, this is just a silly lil drabble!! any interaction is much appreciated, enjoyyyy! :3

“what.”

the first set of crimson eyes dart down to look at you, the other set still tracking the scuttling servants. you’re situated quite snugly in his expansive lap — two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest. “what the hell is that?”

you nibble the inside of your cheek to suppress a smirk. finally, you know something that sukuna does not! and it only took three years. “it’s where i get on your back and you carry me around. quite simple, truthfully.”

he snorts at the slight condescension in your voice. for something so agitating, you have quite the ego. “mm. and why should i do that for you? you can walk on your own, unless your legs are mysteriously broken all of a sudden.”

“because,” you say with a huff, “it’s fun. don’t you want to bond with your queen?”

anxious eyes of passing maids sneak glances at you, your little huff drawing their attention. sukuna shifts you in his lap, turning you to the side, and the massive sleeve of his robe moves to obscure your form from their undeserving gaze. “we have bonded enough.”

“and it would not hurt to bond some more!” you counter. sukuna’s stubbornness is something you absolutely adore about him, but not right now. “can the mighty king of curses not spare a moment of his day to entertain his wife’s wish?”

he falls silent at this, and you can practically see the gears churning in his big head. he’ll cave. if there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the sorcerer, it’s his curiosity.

“... fine,” he grunts. after scooping you up and setting you down, he stands up and gestures with his hand. “so how do we do it?”

your lips curve up into a smirk. “okay, turn around so that your back is facing me.”

sukuna turns around, folding one pair of arms over his chest.

“then, crouch down a little.”

a beat passes, and then he crouches down, back muscles flexing underneath the dark fabric of his haori.

you step up behind him and slide your arms around his neck. his adam’s apple bobs, and the other arms move to cradle your butt. “if this is an attempt to choke me, it isn’t work.”

he always thinks someone’s out to get him. you roll your eyes. “no. if i wanted to kill you, i likely would’ve attempted forever ago.” you lift your lower half onto the lower part of his back, and your legs wrap around his hips.

another beat passes. “is that it?”

“yep.”

sukuna adjusts you, his hold on you becoming more secure as he rights himself to his full height. the warmth of your breath ghosts across his ear, and he can smell the scented lotion you applied this morning.

why hadn’t he done this before?

“soooooo,” you drawl, and he can hear the smile in your beautiful voice without even having to look. you’re so close — he hears the little inhale before you speak, the nearly imperceptible huff of laughter once you finish. “what are you just standing here for? we gotta walk around, explore the estate! it’s not fun if we’re just stuck in one place.”

“i am not a servant,” he warns, voice gruff, but he starts to move towards the throne room’s exit anyway. anyone unfortunate enough bows, mutters a jumbled greeting to the both of you, and scrambles out of the way.

it’s no secret that sukuna is more... benevolent, when you’re around. but that is a double-edged sword — if someone dares to disturb your peace or inconvenience you in his presence, they’d be facing a swift death, along with their parents for giving birth to such vermin.

“apologies, my spectacular husband.” you lean forward a bit and press a kiss onto his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick stain. “now, please, venture forth.”

he rolls his eyes. “if you command me again, woman, i am going to sprint.”

the teasing lilt quickly disappears from your voice, and your arms tighten around his neck. “n-no, that isn’t necessary.”

sukuna’s pace increases, now a brisk jog instead of a leisure walk, and you can hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “oh? is it not?”

“it isn’t!” you squeak. a little embarrassing, yes, but you know how fast sukuna is — you’re positive that if he broke out into a full-speed run, you’d be sick by the end of it.

“let’s find out and see.”

[kazuhaiku]

love story

summary: kinich makes a surprise visit to fontaine and wants to spend the entire day with you, no excuses.

warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff, might be ooc kinich (it's just my interpretation on his personality as of now).

notes: silly little kinich fic as my first post >< reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

“kinich!” you exclaim from the hunters’ guild, a huge smile on your face as you see him walking towards you, a nonchalant look on his face as usual. “hey! i didn’t know you were visiting fontaine. you should have told me!”

“it wouldn’t be a surprise if i tell now would it?” kinich replies, ajaw beside him nodding in agreement. “what are you doing in the hunters’ guild? did you receive a new commission?”

“mhm,” you hum in reply. “lumine and paimon are taking a day off so i’m taking over their commissions for today!” you hand him the list of commissions that are currently available to do and you swear you can see a faint glint of disappointment in his eyes when he sees how many commissions there are to do. “i’m-”

“let me help.” kinich abruptly cuts you off. “you’ll get this finished faster when i’m helping. i’m allowed to help, right?” his eyes flicker over to katheryne who is smiling amusingly. 

“yes of course, if that’s okay with y/n?” katheryne eyes you knowingly. despite katheryne being a robot, she has a clear understanding of the tension between you and kinich (a little too well, if you must say).

you clear your throat. “oh um- yeah of course you can help!” kinich smiles at your answer. he keeps the piece of paper containing the commission details inside his pocket.

“come on, no time to waste. we have lots of things to do today.” kinich exclaims almost excitedly, and you can’t help but wonder what plans he’s got for you today (because why else would he come all the way from natlan to fontaine?).

kinich indeed wasted no time because as soon as there was a fight, he jumped straight into it, killing the enemies almost instantly. before you know it, the commissions are all done hours before your predicted finish time.

kinich wipes the sweat away from his forehead, acting as if he didn’t just do all the commission for you. he turns around and gives you a big smile. “we’re done now, yeah? you’re finished with work?”

“um, yeah…” you stare at kinich as if he just ate a spider.

kinich tilts his head to the side. “what? why are you staring at me like that?”

“no it’s just,” you let out a small laugh, suddenly finding kinich’s actions a bit funny. “aren’t you acting a bit too… desperate?”

“d-desperate?” kinich stutters, a red hue filling his cheeks. “i don’t- i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

you raise your eyebrows. “really? so you did all my commissions in under ten minutes, used every single teleport waypoint instead of exploring the land like you always do, and made me watch you do the commissions instead of letting me help?”

kinich’s cheeks turn darker as you speak, and he immediately covers his face, as if his plan has been busted. “okay, you’re right. i’m… desperate.” he removes his hand from his face, pulling you into a tight hug. “i missed you so much, okay? my work lasted much longer than i had expected, and there was no time for me to write a letter to you.”

you can practically hear the pout in his voice. you gently pat his back, consoling him. “i missed you even more, kinich. how long has it been since we last met?”

“four weeks.” kinich says almost instantly.

you hum. kinich lets go of you, however, one of his hands is still holding one of yours tightly. he doesn’t say anything, and only focuses on caressing your hands, as if you are going to disappear when he lets go.

“kinich,” you call out, and his head whips up. “i’m not going anywhere.”

“i know, i’m sorry,” kinich sighs. “i had so many plans for us today but now i can’t even think of what we should do first.”

“well, considering i- we finish the list of commissions earlier than i had expected… why don’t we start from the top of the list?” you suggest. kinich’s eyes lit up, however, there is a glint of confusion behind it. “of course i know about the list. we’ve been dating for, what, four months now? i know you keep a list whenever we go out.”

kinich makes a sound of surprise and he lowers his head, slowly grabbing the piece of paper from his pocket. he hands it to you silently. “you know me too well, y/n.”

you smile, opening the paper. there aren’t many things on the paper, considering that he listed only five things; explore the court of fontaine, stop by the cafe there and have a nice little coffee date with y/n :), ride the aquabus (seems like fun), visit the opera epiclese, visit the chioriya boutique and gift y/n an outfit!

“wow…” you gasp in awe. “chioriya boutique? how’d you know i like her outfits?”

“remember the letter we last sent out to each other?” kinich asks and you nod. “well, you briefly mentioned her. how you love the outfits she makes and you made a little note on the side saying how you really want an outfit from her but you don’t have enough mora to buy one.”

“that- kinich that letter was probably sent a month ago! how do you still remember that?” you ask, surprised that he remembers the small detail.

kinich only smiles in response. “well, no time to explain. come on, let’s ride the aquabus! i’ve been dying to ride them ever since i got here.”

he pulls you and starts running, almost making you tumble. well, since he’s really excited, you can’t really complain. a happy kinich is a sight to behold.

[pearlescent-poppies]

I’m sick and tired of the Flower Husbands discourse. Like really truly it is just making me so upset now. They are my comfort ship. They are. My first tattoo is a poppy with the ESMP1 quote. I want to hold them in my hands and give them all of the good things in the world. When I see people calling them toxic and abusive, it really hurts me. And there’s not a tag to filter out all of it, not all of them tag “toxic flower husbands”. I get it, okay? I do. I get why you might see them like that. But if anything? If we’re going to see Flower Husbands as the most toxic duo, take a look at every other relationship Jimmy has in the Life Series (with the exception of Tango) and you’ll find the same thing. He’s the butt of the joke. He’s the canary they all poke fun of in his cage. He doesn’t care. But Scott does care. If Desert Duo never left the desert, Scott never stopped crying at Jimmy’s grave. Did you watch his series all the way through? Did you see his ideal afterlife? That Jimmy welcomed him home because that is what they had together? Did you hear the way Scott’s voice got sad talking about how quiet and weird it was not to have Jimmy with him? Have you not watched as Scott uses every single opportunity possible to bring up Flower Husbands? He misses Jimmy with every fiber of his being. Jimmy misses Scott too. Did you watch Last Life? Do you know what Martyn did to make Jimmy give him back the life? He promised a life together, Martyn says it himself! That it was all romantic promising to run away just the two of them. How Jimmy was so hopeful. So naive because this was the beginning, he’s not got all of the hope anymore. Jimmy has had to move on. Jimmy made himself move on. 30 seconds. Do you not imagine him turning away from that interaction resigned to his choice a single tear rolling down his face before he rejoins his boys in their shenanigans? Cause I do. That was a man he had devoted his life to. And yeah, maybe it was because of a joke and a silly a poppy. But do you know what a poppy means? Remembrance, dreams, death, and hope for a peaceful future. Do you know what the white daisy, blue cornflower, and red tulip meant at Jimmy’s grave? Purity, life, reanimation, hope, and true feelings. Do you think a character who conveys a message like that capable of the abuse you accuse him of? Scott’s general air of cattiness is just his character. Hard edges that once you’ve chipped away at, reveal someone who is extremely dedicated and fiercely loyal even and especially to his own detriment. Scott will make jokes about finally being free once his husband dies to the war, but I really think that’s just him preparing for the inevitable. Jimmy was going to die. Canary or not. They all were. So why not make a joke out of being lambs in a slaughterhouse. Isn’t that one of the main ways people cope? Scott loved his husband. Still does and will continue too. Jimmy is the same. But he let go. Had to. He would never have forgiven himself for dragging Scott down with him. How many times do you think that man apologised to Tango for dying first. How many times do you think that man apologised to Tango for dying first before they even lost their third life in the first place? I honestly think Scott himself sums this up best: “I don’t always put myself first and sure I’ve made plenty of mistakes and I’ve hurt people. But I’ve always done my best.”

So next time you wanna call them toxic, rewatch the series and think about this post.

[sixhours]

One Day at a Time - Chapter 4 - Gestation

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

He’s browsing at the trading post when he sees Charlie again. He’s checked off 14 more days in his little calendar, and each time he picks up the pen, it stirs a bittersweet feeling of anticipation and sheer terror in his gut.

He’s picking over the trades, looking for new sneakers for Ellie, when his eyes fall on something else.

Footed pajamas, impossibly tiny, the little plastic price tag still clipped to the sleeve. His hand drifts over the yellow fabric, faded but minky soft. Warm. Good for winter.

Sarah had pajamas like this once…a sleep suit with a hood and little round ears peeking up from the top. He hasn’t thought about that outfit in…well, decades. The memory of her toddling toward him with those silly little ears poking up from her downy head is so vivid that he can almost hear her trill of laughter and he has to lean on the table to catch his breath, the yellow onesie still clutched in his hand.

“Joel? Are you okay?”

Charlie’s voice comes from over his shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie, and he turns around.

“Yeah…yeah just, uh…yeah, m’fine. What’re you doin’ here?”

He hides the pajamas behind him, balling them up in one large fist.

She holds up a white package. “Heard they had TP. Figured I’d better get down here and snag a roll before it was all gone. You?”

“Lookin’ for stuff for Ellie.”

“Find anything good?”

“She won’t think so.”

Charlie smirks. “Teenagers, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, shoving the onesie deep into his bag and making for the counter. He drops off a sack of old clothes into the donation bin, all the stuff Ellie has outgrown, and watches as Charlie does the same with her trades.

They find themselves outside, the warmth of late spring making everything smell fresh and green. Charlie’s button-down shirt floats over her jeans in such a way as to hide her midsection, but her proportions have changed. Her face is fuller, her breasts are swollen, and her skin looks so soft and smooth and—

He coughs and looks away, feeling a brief wash of shame for noticing her. Again.

“So you’re, uh…still…”

“Yeah…I’m still,” she says.

“That’s good,” he says, and means it. “Feelin’ okay?”

She shrugs. “A little tired…but yeah. I feel better. So far, so good, I guess.”

He nods thoughtfully and bites his lip, thinking of the calendar next to his bed. He can almost hear the days falling away.

“Look, I…uh…I shoulda said somethin’ before now. I…know I haven’t been the most…uh…I’m not trying to get out of…anything.”

She blinks up at him, brow furrowed, waiting for him to make sense. He winces, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I wanna help,” he tries again. “However I can. I know it’s not easy goin’ it alone,” he says, looking down at the bag with Ellie’s clothes and the onesie tucked at the bottom. Then he’s thinking of Sarah, of long nights spent pacing and rocking and soothing.

“You’ve done enough.”

“Oh,” he chokes out. “Uh, I, uh…s’pose I deserve that.”

Her eyes widen, cheeks turning a faint pink. Now it’s her turn to fumble her words.

“Oh…I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…you’ve been good. You’ve helped. I–shit. I’m sorry.”

There’s a painfully awkward silence as this sinks in and he bites back a smirk.

“We’re pretty fuckin’ bad at this, huh?”

“Yes,” she sighs. “We are.”

This admission seems to ease something between them. Before he can lose his nerve, he continues.

“Could I come to your next appointment? Is that somethin’ people still do?”

She nods slowly, considering this. “I have one next week. It’s not very exciting, but…you could come with me.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’m not sure you will,” she says. “The midwife is…intense.”

“I’ve heard,” he says. “I think I can handle it.”

He can’t handle it.

The midwife, Joanie, is cold and abrupt and downright abrasive. He can’t imagine this person welcoming anyone, let alone his future child, into the world. He wants to put his arm around Charlie, turn her around, and tell her they’ll find someone else.

But he can’t. Jackson has one midwife. And the town doctor is a 76-year-old man who “doesn’t do babies”.

The woman is dressed in a long, flowing caftan, gray hair pulled neatly into a braid down her back. She looks like a hippie but her eyes are sharp, and her tongue is sharper.

“You brought the boyfriend this time,” she says as Charlie settles on the makeshift exam bed, a chaise lounge with a sheet draped over it. Joel can’t help but notice that Charlie doesn’t bother correcting her.

“You can sit,” Joanie says to him, gesturing to the chair next to the chaise. When he doesn’t move, she throws her hands up. “Or keep hovering. Whatever.”

Joel crosses his arms and barely restrains a snarl. Charlie shoots him a look as she slides her unbuttoned jeans down to her hips.

I told you.

The woman performs a cursory physical exam in silence. It’s obvious they’ve done this routine several times, and neither seems to feel the need to explain it to Joel.

The midwife is frowning, digging into Charlie’s belly with pointed, demanding fingers, feeling around until Charlie winces. Joel clenches a fist at his side, resisting the urge to snap at the woman for being so careless and rough.

“Growth is on track. You’re measuring at sixteen weeks.”

She pulls out a speaker attached to a wand–he vaguely recognizes it from appointments with Sarah’s mother at the beginning–and a tube of gel. She covers Charlie’s lower abdomen with goop and presses the wand in, levering it this way and that, seeking the sound of a second heart. There’s a long moment where he thinks they won’t find it–that this will be the day it all goes to hell.

But then there’s a familiar but distant echo, a rapid pulse of sound, the memory coming back to him across thirty-five years and an apocalypse. It’s the sound that once filled a small room in a sterile hospital. He remembers it as a black-and-white flutter on the ultrasound screen, fast and vigorous and alive .

Mine , he thinks dimly. He sinks into the chair because his legs no longer want to hold him.

The midwife, satisfied she’s found what she’s looking for, holds the wand steady and looks at her watch. It’s the shortest fifteen seconds of Joel’s life and he doesn’t want it to end.

“One-twenty-six. You can sit up.”

Charlie does. Joel notices she doesn’t bother trying to button her jeans. He vaguely remembers Sarah’s mother needing soft, stretchy things, and wonders if Charlie has anything like that.

“Any cramping?” Joanie asks, flipping through a file.

“No.”

“Still bleeding?”

Charlie hesitates for a fraction of a second. “A little. Not every day.”

Joel’s eyes snap to her at that, but she’s not looking at him.

The midwife frowns. “Given your advanced maternal age and your history, I don’t like to hear that.”

Her sharp eyes focus on Joel. “You’re, what, sixty?”

“Fifty-seven.”

“Mmm. Sperm quality after fifty is a crapshoot,” she sighs. “You’re looking at an increased risk of genetic defects.”

Joel grips the arm of the chaise hard enough to rip it from the frame. He’s going to kill this woman.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” she continues. “Maternal-fetal medicine in this country was a shitshow before cordyceps, and the pandemic might as well have sent us back to the dark ages. I’ve seen one death for every five live births. Maternal survival rates are better, but only slightly.”

She’s looking at Charlie. “I can’t tell you you’re going to be okay. I can’t tell you your baby is going to be okay. I can only tell you what I think will help your chances and then…we wait and see.”

Charlie nods, her face drawn into a flat, emotionless mask as she takes this in.

“No more patrols. Light duty work only. No lifting. I can give you a doctor’s note for the council to reassign you if your regular job is too strenuous. No sex,” she says, looking pointedly at Joel. “And if the bleeding gets worse–if it’s bad enough that you need a pad–you go on bed rest immediately.”

Her eyes shift back to Joel. “Stress is a baby-killer. Your job is to take care of her and make sure there is no stress. None. If you can’t do that, you need to find someone who can.”

He grinds his teeth so hard he thinks he hears a molar crack.

“We’re done. I’ll see you next week,” she says dismissively.

And then Charlie’s off the chaise and ushering him to the door before he can open his mouth to give the woman hell and they’re stepping out into the rain. They make it to the end of the street before he stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says, hating the way his voice shakes, recognizing the animal clawing within his chest as barely contained rage.

“I did–I warned you,” she frowns. “She’s rough.”

“No–I mean, the bleeding. You said you were fine.”

“I was. I am,” she says flatly. “You heard the heartbeat.”

“S’not what I meant and you know it,” he hisses.

Her lip curls in a snarl. “You fucked me once . You think that gives you the right to—to everything?”

He blinks. “That’s not what I said.”

“Then what are you saying?”

When he can’t answer, she turns and walks away. The sight of her retreating back hunched against the rain only serves to stoke the fire of his anger further. Her shirt is getting soaked.

Where the fuck is her jacket? She’s going to get sick.

He catches up and grabs her by the arm, turning her around and holding her in place.

“You heard her. How am I supposed to take care of you if you won’t fuckin’ let me?”

Only then does he see the tears in her eyes, rain mingling with salt on her cheeks. Guilt stabs at him and he loosens his grip.

“I don’t know,” she hisses. “I can’t just…be that person with you. I don’t fucking know you! I don’t even know your middle name, but we’re having a fucking baby. Or maybe we’re not, because our odds are shit, and I should have taken care of this when I had the chan–”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Without thinking, he pulls her to him, wrapping her in his arms until he’s holding her in the middle of the street. “Stop. Please.”

She shudders but doesn’t push him away. The sky rumbles, threatening a downpour.

He ducks his head, speaking softly. “It’s Arthur.”

She snorts into his shoulder. “What?”

“My middle name. S’Arthur. After my grandfather.”

She makes a noise that sounds like a sob…or a laugh. He can’t tell. The sound stirs a frantic need within him and he grips her by the shoulders.

“Move in with me.”

“What? No.”

“Just until the kid gets here. Let me take care of you both.”

She looks up at him, eyes ringed with dark circles. A raindrop splashes on the tip of her nose and drips into the divot above her upper lip. 

“Do you even want this? I need to hear you say it.”

Any lingering anger melts away. He thinks of the soft yellow onesie still tucked into the bottom of his pack.

“I do,” he says, hoping the two little words are enough to hold her, to convince her.

She ducks her head with a watery sigh, close enough for her hair to brush at his chest. “Let me think about it.”

He nods. “Alright, but…not too long, okay? You’re, uh…”

He trails off as the back of his hand touches her stomach, just grazing the fabric over her bellybutton, before dropping back to his side.

She sniffs. “Yeah. I’m well aware we’re on a schedule.”

“Okay…okay then,” he nods, resuming their walk toward town. They’ve almost reached the trading post when she speaks again.

“It’s Sarah, by the way.”

The name takes his breath as it always does, pulls at that black hole in his heart that even Ellie can’t completely fill.

“I don’t under–”

“My middle name,” she sniffs. “You didn’t ask, but…it’s Sarah.”

He doesn’t trust himself to speak, just ducks his chin in a nod. Sarah. Of course it’s Sarah.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

That night, she appears on his porch. The rain has let up, but her hair is still damp, matted to her temples. 

“I’ll stay with you,” she says without preamble. “Under one condition.”

He blinks. “Anything.”

“We don’t talk about the kid. No names, no what-ifs…no…playing house. I can’t do any of that,” she says. “We take it one day at a time and…see what happens.”

“If that’s what you want,” he says, swallowing hard.

She nods, satisfied. “Alright. I can bring some stuff by tomorrow.”

“Good. That’d be good. But I uh, need to tell Ellie,” he pauses, thinking. “Can I make dinner for you? For the three of us, I mean?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not playin’ house or whatever,” he clarifies, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “Just…figured the news might go down better with food.”

She nods slowly. “I could do that.”

“You like spaghetti? S’Ellie’s favorite and it’s hard for me to fuck it up.”

“I like spaghetti,” she says, smiling a little. “I get off work at six.”

“Tomorrow,” he says. “Six. See you then.”

That night, instead of staring at the ceiling during his usual sleepless hours, he moves most of his clothes into the spare bedroom closet and cleans his stuff out of the attached bathroom.

As he works, he thinks of Charlie’s unbuttoned jeans straining around her womb and the climbing summer temperatures. Soon there would be no hiding her stomach under a jacket or sweater.

Jackson was friendly, but it was still a small town. People got bored and they talked, and anyone who paid attention would have seen Charlie and Joel together. There were already enough rumors about Tommy Miller’s broody older brother and his mysterious adopted daughter, the one who wore long sleeves even on the hottest days and carried a switchblade.

Ellie.

Another pang of guilt gnaws in his gut. He’d done enough damage to their relationship as it was, and now he’s about to drop a fucking bomb.

He finds himself knocking on the garage door the next morning, hands rubbing restlessly at the thighs of his jeans as he waits for her to answer. He realizes it’s been a few days since he’s talked with her beyond a simple “hello” in passing, or to pass the salt at dinner, or to ask where she’d put the TV remote. He chides himself; Ellie is independent by nature, but she’s still a kid, still his responsibility. She’s never going to trust him again if–

She answers the door, rubbing her eyes and blinking owlishly up at him. She looks so young when she first wakes up, hair tousled, sleep lines on her cheeks.

“Hey, I uh…we’re, uh…having dinner at the house tonight. Makin’ your favorite. Spaghetti.”

She raises an eyebrow. Joel doesn’t usually cook if he can help it; the caf is easier and less prone to burning things. “What’s the occasion?”

He swallows hard. “There’s somethin’ I need to talk to you about. And…Charlie will be there.”

“Ooooo-kay,” she yawns. “Love a good third wheel situation, I guess.”

“S’not like that,” he shakes his head. “She’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she smirks, then sighs dramatically. “I guess I can make room in my packed social calendar for dinner. As long as it’s spaghetti. Maria’s sauce, right? ‘Cause yours is…yikes.”

She sticks her tongue out to drive the point home.

He snorts softly. “Yeah. Maria’s sauce. And garlic bread.”

“Cool.”

He nods, and the moment draws itself out, that awful, awkward, twisting silence filled with all the things he can’t say.

“So…was there something else?” she asks. “I gotta get ready for school.”

“No…nope,” he mutters. “I guess not. I’ll see you tonight, kiddo.”

He doesn’t quite burn the garlic bread, but it’s pretty fucking dark. He’s scraping the crumbs into the sink when Charlie appears at the door with a salad in hand and a backpack slung over her shoulder. She’s wearing an oversized blue button-down over soft black leggings. For comfort’s sake, he hopes the jeans have been retired for a while.

“Thanks,” he says, taking the bag, frowning at its weight. “You’re not s’posed to be lifting stuff.”

“I can handle a bag of clothes.”

He grunts, gestures to the salad. “You can put that on the table. Ellie’ll be over in a few.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“You can sit,” he says, perhaps too gruffly, placing her pack by the stairs. On the stove, the reheated marinara starts to bubble, spitting red flecks. He rushes to take it off the heat.

Ellie arrives just as Joel is setting the last bowl on the table. She nods in a wary greeting to Charlie, then helps herself to spaghetti and salad and bread.

“So what’s up?” she asks around a mouthful of food, forgoing any small talk—his kid, through and through.

Joel swallows hard, looks at Charlie, who simply shrugs as if to say this is your show .

He opens his mouth but the words are stubborn and nothing seems right.

You’re going to be a big sister.

Your old man is going to be a dad again.

I fucked up and we’re having a baby.

He’d never had to worry about this with Sarah. On the rare occasion a date went further than dinner, he’d been cautious to a fault. He’d been considering a vasectomy before the pandemic but time and savings were sparse. He probably could have had the procedure done back in the QZ, but Tess had been his only partner, and she’d had a hysterectomy in her thirties. An operation that would put him out of commission for any length of time seemed like an unnecessary waste of ration cards.

He realizes he’s lost in thought, and they’re both watching him, still waiting.

“So, uh…Charlie’s gonna move in with me for a bit,” he says. “I’m givin’ her my room, and I’ll take your old one…if that’s okay.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. “You two aren’t… together ?”

“No,” Joel mutters, meeting Charlie’s eyes across the table. “S’temporary. She just needs a place for a bit.”

“Weird, but…fine with me,” Ellie shrugs, then turns to Charlie. “Joel’s good at taking in strays, it’s kinda his thing. Case in point.”

Charlie smiles a little at this, takes a sip of her water.

“She’s, uh, gonna have a baby,” Joel continues, focused on his plate, pushing the food around.

“Oh shit, congrats!” Ellie grins at Charlie, then looks back at Joel. He can’t meet her eyes.

There’s a heavy silence. Joel grips his fork until the design in the handle makes an imprint in his palm. He waits for Ellie to do what she does so well, to pick up the hints, put the pieces together, and say the things he can’t.

“Wait,” Ellie says, looking back and forth between them, mouth dropping open in a scandalized O .

“You didn’t—”

She coughs then, choking on a mouthful of food, and fumbles frantically for her water glass.

“Joel,” she says when she can speak again. “Tell me you didn’t.”

All he can offer is a tiny shrug.

“Holy shit ,” she breathes, fork clattering to her plate. “You slut !”

Not for the first time, Joel wishes she had a proper full name–Elspeth, Eleanor, Elizabeth, Eliza–anything that, combined with a solid middle name, made for a convincing and forceful reprimand.

“Sarah Elizabeth Miller” was always effective when his first kid was being a little shit, even if he rarely had to use it.

As it is, he can only growl Ellie’s short-and-sweet name under his breath and watch it roll right off her back. She doesn’t miss a beat.

“Wow, I can’t…I mean, you just said you weren’t even together –”

“We’re not,” he grates out. “It was a…a one-time thing.”

His face is so hot, he can practically feel the vein throbbing at his temple. He wonders if his second kid will give him a fucking aneurysm before his third kid can even be born.

“Thanks for that, now I need to bleach my fucking brain,” she says. “Gross. So, so gross. Dude, you’re like, sixty .”

“I’m fifty-seven,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, so really fucking old . Do you not know how babies are made ? FEDRA school was shit but even they taught us how to put on a fucking condom—”

“Ellie, we didn’t—“

“Don’t, dude. Just stop. You’re really fucked up, you know that? Like, I know I have issues, but this is fuckin’—”

She’s interrupted by a muffled snort from the other side of the table. Charlie has clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes are brimming with tears. She’s going to fucking cry because his kid is an asshole and he is an even bigger asshole and this has gone all fifteen kinds of wrong.

Joel would like to die, right now, face down in a plate of spaghetti with his face the color of marinara—anything to end this godawful conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie gasps, and it dawns on him that she’s not crying at all–she’s struggling not to laugh. “I’m so sorry. It’s just, I haven’t–this is just–holy shit .”

She breaks out into a peal of giggles, leaving both Joel and Ellie in stunned silence.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, heaving and hiccuping as she tries to catch her breath. “Everything has been so awful and serious and…this is just so…so…fucking funny –”

Ellie blinks, looking back and forth between Joel and Charlie in wide-eyed amazement.

Something in Joel’s chest unfurls from its tight, anxious knot, and when he meets Charlie’s eyes, he can’t help but return her grin.

“You two are fucked ,” Ellie pronounces, but there’s a slow smile spreading across her face.

“We are,” Joel agrees. “We’re fucked.”

“Totally fucked,” Charlie agrees, then giggles again.

Ellie shakes her head in disbelief, digging back into her spaghetti. “Welcome to the fucking family, I guess.”

Joel shows up for work the next day feeling lighter than he has in weeks. He’d finally slept . Ellie, while completely disgusted, hadn’t disowned him; she’d even hugged him before returning to the garage. And Charlie had made herself at home, joining him on the couch to watch a movie after dinner.

Maybe this could fucking work.

His newfound peace lasts about as long as it takes for Tommy to find him and clap him on the shoulder.

“What’s this I hear about you takin’ in strays?”

Joel scowls, picking up an extension cord and trying to untangle it from a pile of the things. “Don’t believe everythin’ you hear.”

“So Charlie isn’t shackin’ up with you, then?”

“S’not like that. It’s temporary.”

“Uh-huh.”

He shoots his brother a look over his shoulder, weighing his options. The rumor mill isn’t churning as fast as he thought or Tommy would be all over it by now. He rolls his eyes, knowing what comes next will be just about as bearable as a tooth extraction, aware he can’t put it off any longer.

“She’s gonna have a kid.”

“Right,” Tommy snorts. “Your kid?”

Joel turns and holds his brother’s gaze.

“Holy shit,” Tommy breathes. “You’re serious?”

“You’re gonna be an uncle again,” Joel says dryly.

Tommy whistles. “Well, don’t that just beat all. How the hell–”

“The usual way,” Joel grumbles, turning back to his work. “Can we not do this here?”

But Tommy has never been easily deterred. He practically launches himself at his brother for a bone-crushing hug while half the work crew looks on, bemused.

“Christ, get offa me.”

Tommy doesn’t. When he finally pulls away, grinning and gripping Joel’s shoulders, he’s almost teary-eyed.

“Maria’s gonna be thrilled.”

“I doubt it,” Joel mutters, thinking he’s already not held in high esteem by his sister-in-law. Knocking up a girl twenty years his junior is hardly going to redeem him.

“Does Ellie know?”

“Yeah, we told her last night. She’s…about as excited as you’d expect.”

“Damn. I can’t—I mean, I always thought—after—“

Tommy sobers, and the word lingers heavy between them.

After .

“I know,” Joel says, realizing with a dull ache that his brother is the only other person alive who understands the gravity of the situation…the only one who knew Sarah as more than a sad story in their history.

Joel closes his eyes and sees his brother at twenty, Sarah’s tiny arms wrapped around his neck as she clings to his back, laughing wildly as he dives through the sprinklers on the front lawn.

He blinks the memory away, busies himself with the extension cord again. He doesn’t even remember what he wanted it for, but he needs to do something with his hands.

“But it’s good, right? This is good,” Tommy says, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Joel swallows hard. “It’s good.”

Tommy grins, then frowns just as quickly. “Oh, man. The midwife–”

“Yeah, she’s awful.”

“Maria damn near killed her when Izzy was born.”

“‘Bout ready to myself,” Joel mutters.

“And…you and Charlie ain’t…?”

Joel glares at him in answer. 

“Alright, brother. Damn, man. A kid…and at your age…”

Tommy laughs and ducks just in time to avoid the extension cord as it whips by his head.

[reverie-starlight]

hello ^^ May i request night routine with semi, oikawa and suna?

of course! this is so cute, I love it!! also I wasn't sure if you wanted HCs or not, so I did a little drabble/scenario for each <3 also, oikawa’s ended up being MUCH longer than semi and suna’s and for that i’m sorry, i just had so much fun writing his section. 

also I’m SO sorry this took months to post, I’ve been extremely busy with midterms and exams and school in general. Thank you so much for requesting!

{nightly routines with them- suna, oikawa and semi}

warnings: none! just fluff. and i’m sucker for oikawa using spanish pet-names after learning the language and living in argentina, so shush let me enjoy it. 

gn!reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

suna

You checked the time on your phone and sighed. It was getting late, but you didn’t want to move from your position on top of your boyfriend. His hand stopped running along your back. You made a noise of protest and buried your face further into his neck. He chuckled. 

“Y/n, we should start getting ready for bed. We both have an early start tomorrow.” 

You frowned and shook your head. “No. Please, can we just stay here for five more minutes? I’m so tired.”

“I’ll carry you to the bedroom if you’re that tired, baby, but we really do need to get ready.”

“Fine, I guess.”

There was some shuffling and murmured apologies as Suna got up and disrupted your comfortable position, then you were up in his arms and being carried away. 

This is often how nights with your boyfriend started- one too tired to leave the couch the other dragging them to get ready. It had been integrated into your nightly routine at this point. 

He plopped you down to the bed and kissed you on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

You reached out for him and took his hand. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To get the bathroom ready so we can get our routine done? Are you that tired that you forgot?” He teased, snickering when you swatted his finger away from your face with the hand you were holding.

“I don’t want you to go, though, can’t we skip it tonight?”

“Baby, you’re going to be frustrated tomorrow when you realize you went to bed without doing it.”

“But I don’t want you to be far awayyyy,” you dragged on and he rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll carry you there, then, you clingy baby. But we’re not skipping a day.” He picked you back up from the bed and journeyed to the bathroom.

“Mhm, I love you, Rin.”

“Love you too.”

He sat you down on the counter and kissed your cheek. “Open,” he requested.

You obliged, and he started brushing your teeth for you, making sure to be gentle while still doing a good job. When he was finished with that, you rinsed your mouth out and leaned against him as he brushed his own teeth.

He sighed as you nuzzled into his neck, fairly certain you were falling asleep on him again. If his mouth wasn’t full of toothpaste he definitely would have given into the urge to kiss your head. He rinsed and wiped his mouth. Since you were facing the other way, you couldn’t see the slight smile on his face or the adoring look in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around you and stared at the sight in the mirror, eternally grateful that he was lucky enough to spend yet another night with the love of his life. 

oikawa

Nights with Oikawa had become... chaotic since moving in together in the best way possible. You had your doubts that this part of your routine wouldn’t get old quick, but nearly a year later you were still taking part in this silly little tradition that you both adored. 

You tried to be nonchalant as you looked at the time on your phone. It was getting late now, and in the Oikawa-L/n household that only meant the games were about to begin. You felt bad for your neighbours downstairs who had to put up with this at least four times a week. 

“Tooru, can you get me some water please?”

“Of course, my love, with ice?”

“Sure, thank you.”

The second he was out of sight, you were sneaking off to the bathroom. If you could just get there undetected, you might have a chance at winning-

“Going somewhere?”

You shrieked and looked over to where the voice came from.

There he was, leaning against the wall with an annoying smirk and a quirked eyebrow, water in hand. “Did you seriously think I would fall for the water trick? You did this last month too... are you running out of ways to best me, beautiful?”

You scowled. “I am not, I was just retesting it.”

Truthfully, you knew he’d catch on- he was insanely observant, sometimes to his own detriment, and slightly cocky, too. That’s exactly why you had to use it to your advantage to win your little game. He needed to be humbled after almost a month of consecutive wins.

He was clever but you knew how to work around it almost better than anyone. 

Taking the water from him, you rolled your eyes as he laughed. “Retesting it, right. Are you sure you’re not just getting complacent? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you enjoy losing to me, baby.”

He lead you back to the couch and sat you down. “Oh please, you wish. Besides, how do you know I haven’t just been letting you win?”

“We both know you’re way too competitive for that, my love, but it’s a nice sentiment.” 

You grumbled under your breath and took a small sip of your water. He’d eat his words by the end of the night and you’d be living like royalty for the next 24 hours. 

Honestly, you lost sight of the rules after a month of your game. It wasn’t even really anything serious, just a little bit of fun- a way to keep up the playfulness in your relationship. And despite the teasing and your determination to win, neither of you ever took it so far that it turned into resentment. 

It was only a race to see who could finish their routine and get under the covers first, after all. 

Some nights were more strategic and planned out, others were just straight up feral. It really depended on the mood of the instigator (it was pretty evenly split between you and Oikawa starting it from night to night).

Tonight you were going for a mixed approach. 

“Tooru, I love you.”

He smiled over at you. “I love you too, Y/n. So much.”

“So much,” you agreed. “Keep that in mind, please.”

He side eyed you. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said, slowly getting up from the couch, him following suit almost immediately. 

You took a sip of your water again. “Hmm, it’s perfect, thank you baby.”

His eyes widened in realization. “Don’t you da-” he was cut off by some water being splashed in his face. 

You wasted no time running for the bathroom, cackling the whole way as your boyfriend took off after you. “You’re going to pay for that!”

The adrenaline pumping through you right before bed was worth the past few days of purposefully losing and biting back remarks that would give you away. 

You squealed as you felt a hand grab at you from behind and you tried to shut the bedroom door, but Oikawa was a pro athlete. He easily opened it against your full weight and lunged for you. 

You giggled and dodged, running to the bathroom and starting on your face. He came in two seconds later and grabbed your hands. You struggled against him, trying to get your facewipes back, but he pinched your sides and you gave up on that idea pretty quickly. 

He picked you up and pulled you into the shower, laughing along with you. “If I had to get wet, so do you! Stop squirming!” 

You couldn’t even put up a fight with how hard you were laughing at that point. He stood with you under the water, shoulders shaking and trying to catch his breath. 

He finally composed himself a couple seconds before you did and all he could do was admire you. The sound of your laugh was music to his ears and your smile was contagious. Even with messy hair and soaking wet clothes, you were still the most beautiful person he had ever seen. 

“I’m sorry I splashed water in your face,” you said through the last of your giggles. 

“I’m sorry I dragged you into the shower while you still had your clothes on.”

You shrugged and started pulling them off. “I had to shower tomorrow morning anyway, now I can sleep in a bit longer.”

He followed suit once again. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, I’m feeling a little clingy now, actually. I love you so much.” You wrapped your arms around him and pecked his cheek. 

“I love you too, mi vida.”

semi

It was already hours past when you had said goodnight the first time, but you just couldn’t fall asleep. After a while of tossing and turning, you decided to wake your fiancé up. 

“Mmm, what’s wrong? You okay?” He sat up when he felt you shaking him and rubbed his eyes then leaned over to turn a light on so he could see you better.

“I can’t sleep. I’m tired, but every time I think I’m about to drift off I wake back up.” You said with tears in your eyes. Not being able to sleep when you’re exhausted was extremely frustrating. 

He frowned and stroked your cheek in sympathy. “I’m sorry baby, you should have woken me up sooner.” 

“You were so peaceful, I didn’t wanna disturb you. I’m just all out of ideas on what to do now.” You leaned into his hand and his heart fluttered.

He thought for a moment. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and wash your face with warm water. It should soothe you a bit. I’ll have something ready for you when you get back.” 

You pouted. “You don’t have to get up, it’s okay. I don’t want to make it harder for you to get back to sleep.”

“No, don’t worry about me, sweetheart, I just want to make things better for you. Meet me back here, okay?”

You nodded and went to wash your face. Five minutes later, you were drying your hands and focusing on the warmth of your freshly rinsed skin.

“Baby, are you almost done?”

“Yeah, I’m coming now!” You called from the bathroom.

When you walked out into the bedroom, you were greeted with a smile from your fiancé. He was ready and waiting for you on the bed with his guitar in hand.

“You’re gonna play for me?” You cuddled into his side after getting back into bed.

“Mhm, you’ve said before it relaxes you when I play. I thought we could give it a try tonight.”

You thought back to all the times he’s played for you before and how you always felt a wave of calm wash over you. You nodded up at him and got comfortable, still attached to his side. 

He began playing a slow, soft melody that you recognized as one of the first songs he ever wrote for you in the early days of your relationship. He hummed along to it and you felt it from where your head was on his chest. The vibrations mixed with his voice and the guitar were enough to get you sleepy, and this time you were able to drift off without any issues.

When he noticed you were finally asleep, he carefully set his guitar down under the bed and slowly shifted so he was lying down with you. He reached over to turn the light off. 

He kissed the top of your head. “Goodnight, baby, sweet dreams.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[juletheghoul]

Let Me Follow (Part 6)

AN: Phew! So this was fucking torture. I don't even know how to explain how hard it's been for me lately. Interaction on this site has been abysmal-and while I know we do this for fun, it sort of feels like I'm talking to myself sometimes. It's so hard to not take other people's success personally but I am trying! I have such a clear vision of where this story will go, and I have so much planned that I don't want to give up. I figured the best way to build up my self-esteem, build up my confidence was to go back to how I did it in the beginning, just write, and post. I've done my best to edit this myself, but it hasn't been beta'd. Hopefully, it pays off, enjoy! xo (enjoy the softness before the storm😅)

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) angst, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age), Yearning, post-apocalyptic world, piv sex (wrap it up!), the softest version of this Joel that I've written to date, Grief, panic attack / ptsd / nightmare

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It felt wrong to smile, almost silly. How could anyone smile with how things were in the world? With Johnny gone, with the pounding pain in the back of your head, with the effort and the hunger shredding a hole through your insides—you’d wipe it off your face. Had managed to keep it off for a long time, but then an animal had jumped onto the road and Joel’s arm had shot out in a protective gesture and it had creeped back in. 

“Looks like the rest of the way is on foot.” What had started out as a grinding noise, had quickly turned into dark plumes of smoke from the engine, filling the car with an acrid smell. “Shouldn’t be too far now, few hours.” His scowl was in place, but you saw it differently now–saw it for what it was. A mask, a representation of what this world did to you.

“We can manage that.” Ellie was grabbing her pack, helping Luke with the door before making her way towards the direction Joel pointed you all in. 

“Yes, we can definitely manage that.” You smiled at her, wincing slightly at the way your head pounded. 

“You okay, Sunny?” His hand lands gently on the side of your neck, turning your face towards his. “You can walk, right?” His hand sweeps up, prodding gently at the throbbing goose egg on the back of your head.

“Yeah, I’m okay, my head hurts like a bitch though. Need water soon.” His scowl seems so different now, it’s worry you see there now, instead of anger. He nods once, lingering for a moment before turning and leading the way. Luke doesn’t comment on the exchange, just gives you a small smile and follows Joel, but Ellie; she gives you a toothy grin and a thumbs up. 

Hours pass, thick trees give way to open space. A vast, beautiful landscape stretching out before all of you, seemingly untouched. Everyone is quiet, but alert as you all move closer to your destination. 

“How much longer do you think we have left, Joel?” Ellie is lagging a little bit, the hunger and thirst evident in her voice. 

“Shouldn’t be too much longer.” He turns to look at her, slowing down to let her catch up but he tenses at the sounds of horses just over the ridge in front of you. His gun flies up, but there are too many. Instantly you’re all surrounded by armed people on horseback, twenty people at least. “Get behind me.” He raises his hands in supplication, letting the gun fall onto his shoulder. “We ain’t lookin’ for any trouble, we’re just passin’ through.” 

“Drop the gun.” The person in front of Joel has a rifle pointed at him, a lot of them have guns pointed at the four of you. They have coverings on the lower halves of their faces, the one closest to Joel is yelling, and Joel drops his gun. “You-” He gestures to you, Luke and Ellie. “Take five steps back, separately.” 

“How about we just talk this through-” Joel starts to speak before anyone moves. 

“How ‘bout you shut the fuck up.” The man cuts him off, and gestures to the rest of you. 

“It’s okay, do what he says, we’ll be okay.” You nod at Ellie, moving away from Joel, your own hands up. 

“You been near infected?” The man asks no one in particular. 

“There’s no infected out here.” Joel responds.

“The hell there ain’t!” The man answers before whistling, from somewhere behind them another man emerges with a dog. “Last chance for a bullet, if you’ve been infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.” The dog barks, and your heart sinks. Ellie looks to you, big eyes pleading and you take a tentative step towards her, stopping when another of the riders points his gun at you. The dog makes his way over to Joel, sniffing at his feet for a moment before rising up, friendly. 

“Like I said,” Joel calls out. “We’ll just move on.” 

“Now the rest of you.” The man calls out, and the dog sniffs Luke, and then you, moving on lastly to Ellie. Your stomach drops and your hand inches towards the knife in your pocket but after a tense breath, the dog licks Ellie’s hands. You can’t help but take a deep breath in relief. 

“You just bought yourself more seconds.” The man doesn’t lower his gun. “What are you doin’ out here?”

“We’re just lookin’ for my brother, that’s all, nothin’ more.” A woman rides forward at his words, her dark eyes focused intently on Joel’s face. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him. 

“Joel.” He answers, and it’s the magic word. She gestures for them to lower their guns. “Joel Miller, right?” She lowers the covering. 

“Yeah, do I know you?” His voice is thick with confusion. 

“I know Tommy, come on, we’ll lead you to him. Give them a few horses.” She calls out the command to no one in particular, but they rush to obey her nonetheless. 

-

You ride with them, nervously clutching Joel where you sit behind him on the horse they gave him. 

“You’re okay Sunny, just hold on. Don’t squeeze your thighs.” He speaks low and you take a deep breath.

“Sorry, I’m afraid of falling off.” You tighten your grip on him, squeezing tightly around his middle. 

“I won’t let you.” He presses his hand to yours, reassuring you. 

It isn’t long before you arrive at a high wall, with people walking along the top of it. A giant gate is closed to all, until Maria–the woman on the horse gives a signal, and the giant gate opens up for your party. The scene that greets you just inside the gates shocks you into silence. It’s a town, a lively, inhabited, working town. People mill about a central high street, kids play and watch your party move through the street with curiosity instead of fear. 

It’s a lot to take in, working lights and shops seemingly open and in good condition, scaffolding and people repairing things–working together. 

“Tommy!” Joel yells out, startling you and you see one of the men on the scaffolding turn and look, rapidly making his way down while Joel dismounts the horse you’re sharing and runs towards him. It makes you smile to see and hear Joel so happy, to see him find his own brother and it makes you think of Johnny. 

I wish you could have seen this place, Johnny.

–

The food tastes too good to keep any semblance of decorum, instead you shove it into your mouth faster than you can chew it, breathing deeply through your nose in order to fill your belly. Maria and Tommy sit across from the three of you in what was essentially a town cafeteria–Luke had been taken straight to the town doctor and you’d all been assured he’d be fed. 

Joel speaks, Ellie argues, and you keep quiet. Tommy and Maria are an item, and if you had to hazard a guess, Tommy has been less than kind in his description of his older brother. There’s something in the air between them, Maria and Tommy, the two of them versus Joel. A look of judgement in her gaze and it raises your hackles. 

“The house across the street from us is empty, the one next to it too if you wanted your own place–” She looks at you but Joel cuts her off. 

“We stay together. The three of us.” He reaches over, taking your hand in his. Tommy isn’t the only one who’s found someone and it makes your heart soar to have him claim you openly like this. 

“That works.” She smiles politely, Tommy too. “How ‘bout a tour?” Joel nods, and you make your way out, with a full belly and a full heart.

-

The town is well and truly a marvel, the culmination of hard work, strategic location and the well oiled machine that is their patrol. They’ve managed to rebuild a functioning, safe town; full of most of the comforts the world had had before, only on a much smaller scale. You keep quiet as she guides the three of you through their little corner of normalcy, unable to stop yourself from noting where all of the supplies are kept, where the food stores are, how many horses are in the stable. 

There’s a tense energy flowing between Joel and Tommy, something unspoken in the air, an anger, a resentment and you can’t exactly blame Joel for his share of it. His brother has been here, safe and happy, with a purpose–content to leave his brother in the dark in order to protect what they have here. You can almost understand why, there’s something else though, something in the way Maria watches Joel that plants a seed of suspicion in your brain. Your suspicion deepens and if you had to hazard a guess, he’s told her some unsavoury things about the man you’d come to–what, love? The thought is sobering, you push it away. 

Maria suggests showing you where you’ll be staying, mentions getting cleaned up while she moves away from them, gesturing for the two of you to follow, and with a nod from Joel, you do.

-

The house was furnished from before, everything old and a bit dusty, but otherwise in good condition. Relatively clean, working lights, a hot shower. Heaven. You stay in there a little longer than necessary, too content in the warmth of the water to make it as quick as you’d planned. Your little trailer–although having served as an oasis by today’s standards–didn’t hold a fucking candle to this. 

You smile to yourself, picturing Joel melting in the warmth, his handsome face tipped back in unadulterated joy. It almost made you regret not waiting for him, almost. That first time Johnny had rigged up the trailer to catch rainwater and figured out a way to somehow connect the whole thing to a powersource and heat it, that same feeling coursed through you now as the steam filled the ensuite, only now it was painted with a bittersweet brush. You’d gotten good at pushing away thoughts of Johnny and what could have possibly–probably–happened to him, and you did it again now. You forced his breezy smile, his dumb jokes, the comforting piece of home that he’d been out of your mind and focused on getting clean. 

Maria had left some clothing for the three of you in the house, doing a remarkably accurate job at guessing what would fit and once dressed, Ellie had run out of the house, itching to explore. It served you well enough. It gave you time to rest and to regroup. It gave you a chance to think about exactly what it was you wanted to do now that something like this was an option. 

—

The house looks normal, really normal. Not just the normal he’s had to adjust the definition of the word to over the last twenty years, either. It’s just a house. It’s just a suburb, just a neighbourhood relatively untouched, by the ravages of the last two decades. A two-story home with good bones, a home he imagined could be stable for him, for Sarah. 

The thought of her forces the air out of his chest, punches it out of him with the force of a gunshot. He hadn’t let himself think about her in so long that it shakes him, freezes him where he stands on the porch like some sort of statue. It had been twenty years since he’d lost her, and yet he can still smell her hair in his nose, can still feel the weight of her in his arms, can still hear the sound of her voice and it breaks his heart all over again. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and lets the anger, and the hurt, the rage of his monumental loss pass engulf him.

His heart pounds in his chest, the blood it beats booming like a drum in his ears. His vision blurs as he stands there, terrified and bewildered, swaying as though caught in a massive wave and struggling to breathe. His hand shoots out and he braces himself against the wall of the house. He focuses on the brick under his hand, the grit of it digging into his palm. 

Breathe Joel, breathe. 

His lungs fill with air. 

In. Out. Repeat.

His vision eventually clears as he catches his breath, the pounding in his ears lessens and he finally feels like he can move his legs and after a few more steadying breaths, he leaves whatever the episode was, and the memory of his daughter on the porch. 

—

He groans as he makes his way up the stairs and you can’t help but smile, anticipation and excitement and a whole bunch of feelings you can’t, or maybe won’t name swirling in your gut as you wait for him to find you. The scowl is there when he finally opens the right door, his eyes burning into yours but there’s something else there too. 

“Everything okay?” You sit up at the sight of him, pale and no doubt clammy by the looks of him, “Did something happen?” The fear doesn’t creep, it slams into you. 

“No no, everythin’s okay. Just tired.” His eyes soften, but only a little. “You look…cozy.” He raises an eyebrow at finding you in bed, quite obviously cleaned up and relaxing. “Shower working?” 

“Yes, I am very comfortable. It’s a real bed, Joel—real blankets and a real house… lights and hot water.” You can’t help but gush, and smile and kneel up to speak to him, “go, go shower and get clean. Maria brought us some clothes, here—“ you all but crawl out of the bed and rush over to the dresser, grab him a towel and soft sleep things, hurrying to shove them into his hands. 

“Hold your horses, girl—where���s Ellie?” He quirks his head, listening for her.

“She’s fine, in the bedroom down the hall, she was passed out when I checked in on her about an hour ago. Now go! Get clean, mister.”

“Okay okay, Sunny, I’m goin’.” Both his tone and his smile are soft, “be right back.” He grumbles halfheartedly, but does what you ask all the same. 

He takes just as long as you thought he might, the hot water and steam casting its spell on him, just as it had on you. 

“Jesus Christ,” He looks so much softer than you’ve ever seen him, standing at the door in a loose shirt and some boxer shorts, holding his dirty pile of rags, “that was the best shower I’ve taken in years.” He sets down the pile before making his way over to the bed. 

“Life Changing, truly.” You smile up at him, giddy at the thought of having him here, safe and protected, in a real bed. “I had almost forgotten what it was like.” You move in a little closer as you speak, itching to snuggle up to him, but keeping your distance all the same. Despite his kiss, his open declaration in the dining hall, it wasn’t easy to forget being pushed away.

“The little setup you had was pretty good.” He must see the doubt, must see the way your fingers twitch with want and he makes the first move, pulling the blanket up and opening his arms. You crawl into his embrace with a toothy grin.

“Nowhere near as good as this.” You bury your face into the skin of his neck and inhale, eyes rolling into the back of your head when his clean scent hits you, “God, I love soap.” You all but moan it into his neck and he laughs, a genuine, deep rumble that fills your heart with something.

“Yeah I bet you do, I’m sorry about the state of me before. You smell pretty great yourself.” He wraps himself closer too, skimming his nose along any inch of skin he can reach and it’s almost as if the world outside doesn’t exist. This is the only thing that matters. Him, you, this bed—Ellie, safe in her room. 

“I scrubbed a lot, l probably took off a few layers of skin.” You run your fingers through his hair, basking in the feeling of his touch, basking in his voice and the soft caress of his breath against your skin. Ignoring the tiny little voice that warns he might change his mind later.

Stop that, just enjoy a good fucking thing here.

You scold yourself, bringing your focus back to him.

“Me too, reckon I needed it, bad.” His hands move from your back, up to your skull and you wince when he touches the goose egg. “Still hurts? I should go find Tommy, see if he’s got any painkillers for you.” He almost goes to move away and while your heart sings at his readiness to leave the comfort of this to take away your pain, your fingers dig into his back and hold.  

“Don’t you dare.” He laughs, and gets back into place.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll do it in the morning.” He takes another look at where you’d been hurt before tucking you close, and pulling the blanket up over you both. “It feels so strange to lay here, almost normal.” 

“I know, it’s almost too weird.” Your leg lifts of its own accord and hooks over his middle, “I have my knife on the nightstand beside me, but I almost feel like I should have it under my pillow.”

“I know what you mean, been livin’ in fear a long time. That doesn’t just go away after a hot shower and a good meal.” His hand comes down and holds onto your thigh, as though you’d both done this a million times, you smile into his neck. 

“Can we stay here?” The question has been there all day, burning a hole in the back of your brain and into the tip of your tongue, “Do you want to stay here?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t even know what I’d do with myself here.” You bite your lip at his admission, “If you wanted to, I would. I’d go wherever you go.” His tone is soft again, his eyes averted and you can see it’s hard for him to admit that out loud. “I know I’m hard to be around sometimes, but I’m tryin’.” His hand sweeps up your thigh as he speaks, giving himself something to focus on, ground himself with.

“I know, Joely. I can see it.” You lean in and kiss his cheek, pressing yourself closer to him, pushing past the lump in your throat to speak. “Once Ellie does what she needs to do, we can all live here.”

“We’ll have to see how that goes, her and the fireflies.” He says nothing more, and you leave it there.

A yawn slips out and before you’ve even finished, he’s reaching over and turning off the light on his side. His arms, the soft sweep of his hands on your skin, his voice in your ear and his lips at your temple all work their magic and lull you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

His whole body twitches, and that’s what wakes you up, bleary eyed and half terrified. You barely have time to rub at your eye with the heel of your hand before he’s moving again, his head jerking side to side and you call to him, but he doesn’t hear you.

“Joel, wake up,” you put your hand on his shoulder, softly, “Joel!” 

He lurches forward violently, his arms flailing in the darkness and you know he’s still in the nightmare, the terror bleeding through into reality for a moment before he realizes where he is. 

“It was just a bad dream,” you reassure him, keeping your voice soft and calm, “you’re okay, come.” You open your arms to him and even though he’s awake, he still takes a few deep breaths before moving. Whatever he’d dreamt, it had been bad. He breathes hard as he settles beside you, the sheen of terror shining on the parts of his face illuminated by the moon filtering into the room. “Do you want to talk about it?” You run your fingers through his hair, doing your best to soothe him. 

“I–” He frowns, opening his mouth, then closing it, and repeating the action a couple of times before answering again, “It’s just, everythin’.” He lets go of a big breath, and melts into the bed, melts into you. “I just, I dreamt somethin’ bad happened–I think. I don’t even know anymore.” his breath fans across your skin as he speaks, raising goosebumps in its wake.

“I get it,” You press your lips to his neck, “Happens to me too, sometimes.” 

The novelty of this moment isn’t lost on you, the stark contrast between when you first met and now would have been unbelievable to you back then.  

“First night in a real bed, and this is what happens.” He scoffs in the dark. The words are meant to be light, but he can’t hide the annoyance threaded in the tone.  

“Well, we could take advantage,” your thumb brushes against the plump of his lower lip, but you don’t push it further, “what do you think?” He almost doesn’t let you finish your sentence, instead his mouth presses against yours, forestalling any further conversation, and filling your stomach with butterflies. 

It’s almost embarrassing how fast your body responds to him, the trail his hands leave across your skin like an electric current. His palm skates up under the loose shirt and finds the weight of your breast, his thumb brushing over the stiff peak in sync with the groan he feeds directly into your mouth. You scramble to get closer, feeling the frantic energy in his hands and matching it.

It feels so fast, feels like just a moment before you’d been sleeping and not clamouring to eat each other alive. But it also feels so slow, like no matter how hard you both breathe one another in, no matter how quickly you rip off each other's layers, you cannot get close enough, fast enough.

It’s then that the realization hits you. There, on the edge of this bed that isn’t yours, but could be. It’s there when the layers are finally fucking gone, when your mouths are fused together but barely moving, when you’re finally fully seated and your aching pussy is stretched around the thickness of him. 

I love you.

His forehead rests against yours while you sit on him, snug, and tight, and wet. The two of you sharing each other's breath, the nightmare forgotten, or most likely repressed. You try to shoo the thought away and focus on the way he feels, on the way he fills you so perfectly. You focus on the hands that hold onto your ass, on the broken moans he breathes onto your skin.

God, I love you.

It pops up again, unbidden and you frown to yourself, trying again to focus on him. 

“What’s wrong baby?” His eyes are on you now, his frown a mixture of pleasure and worry. “Am I hurtin’ you?” He holds your chin so tenderly, it makes your heart ache.

“No, Joely, it feels so good.” You kiss him, relishing in the fact that you can, but it isn’t enough because he pulls away for a moment.

“You sure?” He cradles your face in his big hands and it’s a double edged sword. It’s everything you never thought you’d have, it’s comfort and belonging, but it’s also a void. A black hole you could fall into, and never crawl out of. It’s a weakness, a stupid, wreckless risk that this world no longer seems to have any space for. You can see it, the black pit of despair in his eyes, the trust and gamble it is to love another person and it shifts like the colours of an oil slick stain on concrete when it rains. From terrifying, to beautiful. 

“I’m okay, I promise.” You press a soft kiss to his mouth again, and lie to both him, and yourself.

---

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[dekusleftsock]

Hey, weird comparison might be a stretch

Okay angy-grrr (yes I’m name dropping you and I’m not sorry <3333) I think made a comment a while ago about how this whole thing between Afo and Yoichi felt incestual, and I’d be inclined to agree.

However, however however however, I do have a few bits of commentary on that sentiment. Specifically in relationships to this scene specifically.

And, alright, no this is not some bs like “pro incest” or whatever, you can talk about topics that are taboo and not necessarily agree with them. I understand that I’m a shipper but I’m inclined to follow my nose where it leads, and my nose says here. So.

We’ve established a lot that the kanji horikoshi used when Izuku says “Give him back!” Is very possessive. Like an ownership over an item.

Okay, because Izuku and afo share one very weird trait—possessiveness. And for literally a month I’ve written and rewritten a post about how I just can’t get behind the idea of Katsuki paralleling afo, because it just doesn’t fucking make sense.

What is it telling us? That Katsuki has become a better person? We already KNEW THAT. The Kudou parallel says something, it says that Katsuki rises ABOVE the fate of the OFA predecessor because he and Izuku accepted their hearts.

Not only that but what is it exactly that we’re paralleling? Afo is defined by ownership (an Izuku trait), an unreliable narrator (also an Izuku trait)—in my opinion, horikoshi isn’t that simply Willy Nilly about parallels. It’s not about shipping to me rn, I’m literally comparing him to Izuku and how Izuku obsesses over Katsuki, IT JUST DOESNT MAKE SENSE.

Besides, wouldn’t this parallel be made significantly earlier, when Katsuki was still acting like an asshole? The kudou parallel was made literally from the start of his introduction, just because he looked so much like him. We didn’t know why this was the case, theories were thrown, and we’re only being told NOW why this parallel exists. But it was built, very carefully, and served a purpose.

And, to add onto this parallel of at the very least afo and Izuku, the portal is very similar to the floating hand.

Especially with the reminder that Katsuki was taken away by dabis hand on his neck (hands always have symbolism in this series after all, it always has a purpose)

If someone, anyone really, could show me some genuine evidence of afo and Katsuki parallels that isn’t just “Katsuki was selfish about Izuku when they were younger” then by all means

But to me, along with the fact that Katsuki called himself IZUKUS NICKNAME, right before a chapter where afo talks about NAMING YOICHI, ummmmmmmm… I gotta say. Things ain’t looking so great in that evidence department. I guess you could argue that Katsuki did the same thing with deku, but deku hasn’t even been said these past few chapters and Kacchan has so????? Idk.

Anyway, this weird overly attached, incestual, codependent relationship is really fascinating to me. I’m not so inclined to say that Izuku and afo are the same since they very obviously aren’t, izuku is just toxic in his silly goofy ways, but I think it’s an interesting thing to point out.

It almost feels like a “fuck you” to people who have been saying Katsuki and Izuku act like brothers for years. Maybe like Horikoshi is saying, “well I guess if they’re brothers they’re incestual too :)”

And that’s gotta be the biggest power move I’ve ever seen. “Oh you wanna read this relationship in that light? How about I show you what that light would look like if it were true :)” AND LIKE. WOW.

I know anime is not new to incest, but I don’t think this is the “random incest for funsies” type of incest, I think this is the incest built off of actually talking about the taboo. The weird. The not so great things we’ve done as humanity, but that exist anyway. Because mha WANTS to talk about the taboo, things we find morally wrong and therefore don’t belong in our stories, but that just makes them all the more incomprehensible were it to be happen in the real world. Art is made to talk about the stories we wish remained unfinished.

[skyward-floored]

Malon and the glasses

A little addition to the Incredibles au glasses fic (found here!) I posted the other day, it takes place during that one, so I suggest reading that first (though you don’t have to to understand this).

This is also in honor of Mother’s Day, cause Malon is the best :)

...

Nobody saw much of Twilight the day he got his glasses, the teenager keeping pointedly to himself.

He barely ate any dinner that night, and quickly asked to be excused, shutting himself up in his room without waiting for dessert. His brothers watched him go, but soon went back to eating, the fight over who got the last slice of bread much more exciting than Twilight’s mood.

Malon exchanged looks with Time after Twilight left though, and once dinner was over and done with, she headed up to the room Twilight and Wild shared, joined by a slice of the cake Wild had made.

Here goes, she thought, bracing herself as she walked down the hallway. Twilight didn’t often get moody, but when he did, he really did.

“Hey honey, can I come in?” Malon asked, knocking softly on Twilight’s door.

A noise of confirmation came from inside, and Malon pushed the door open, greeted by the sight of Twilight sitting grumpily on his bed as a wolf. She set the slice of cake on his bedside table, then sat on the bed beside him, his ears twitching softly at her arrival.

“All right, come here,” she said gently, and Twilight scooted himself over, sadly flopping his head in Malon’s lap. Malon adjusted herself so they’d both be more comfortable, and Twilight let out a breathy sigh, not looking at her.

Malon looked at him a moment, then let out a sigh of her own.

“Oh hon, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want glasses,” she said gently, and Twilight let out a morose sound.

“Does anyone ever want glasses?” he woofed grumpily, and Malon hummed.

“Well... at least you just need them for long distances, you’ll pretty much only have to wear them while you’re driving,” Malon said encouragingly, but Twilight didn’t look cheered up.

“Yeah. I can pull up to school and have everyone see how dorky I look.”

“Hey, I’m sure you don’t look dorky,” Malon said, and scratched a soft hand over his fur. Twilight leaned into the touch. “I’d bet they make you look nice. Sophisticated.”

“Silly,” Twilight added glumly, leaning against her arm. “Like some kind of smart alec. Glasses are just asking for trouble.”

“Now why do you say that?” she asked, and Twilight gave a small shrug.

Malon waited for him to speak further, switching from scratching behind his ears to running her hand along his head, more like how she used to do when he was smaller. Twilight relaxed, and a moment or two went by before he spoke again.

“...I’m already weird,” he mumbled finally. “Glasses are just going to add to that.”

“Twilight, you’re not weird,” Malon said firmly. “Unusual maybe, but that’s just how things are with superpowers. We’re all a bit unusual.”

Twilight gave her a flat look. “Mom, I have five brothers with the same name as me. Not to mention Dad. And Warriors. And Sky. Powers aside, that’s not normal.”

“Okay, okay, you got me there. You know half of the names were accidents though,” she said with a pointed scratch, and Twilight softly huffed.

“I know. I just... don’t want glasses.”

Malon sighed, patting him by the thick fur at his neck. “At least give them a bit of a try, hon. It’s this or no learner’s permit, so you’re gonna have to decide which you dislike more; not being able to drive, or wearing some frames while you do.”

Twilight sighed, and his mother scratched him behind the ears in silence.

“Can I see them?” she asked after a minute.

Twilight hesitated, then slipped back into his hylian form, leaning over and grabbing the glasses case she’d seen Time bring in earlier. He handed it to her and Malon opened it, picking up the glasses and inspecting them.

“Well they don’t seem so bad to me,” she said kindly, peering through them. “The frames you chose are nice.”

“It was those or the ones with these giant rims,” Twilight said with a small smile, and Malon chuckled. “...I guess they could be worse.”

“Can you model them for me?” Malon asked, and Twilight hesitated, looking at them. Then he slowly took the frames from her, and put them on.

Malon studied the way they sat on her son’s nose, how they made his eyes look, and how they looked with the shape of his face. Twilight’s ears flattened in embarrassment the longer Malon silently studied him, and he looked at the floor again, until she gently cupped his cheek and tilted his head back up.

“Look at that. I was right. They do make you look nice,” she said with a smile.

“...You sure?” he asked quietly, and she nodded.

“I’m sure. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother,” she said as she gave him a squeeze. “You look fine, hon. I promise. And if I’m being completely honest... they make you look more grown-up. Mature.”

A hesitant smile formed on Twilight’s face, and Malon reached over and grabbed the plate she’d brought up.

“Wild mixed up another cake, I brought you a slice,” she offered, and Twilight’s ears pricked. He took the plate from her, and leaned on her shoulder as he began to poke at it, his smile growing just a little as he ate.

“Thanks Mom,” he said quietly as he nibbled at it, and Malon nodded, rubbing his shoulder.

“Sure thing, honey,”

Twilight set his head on her shoulder, and they sat there together as he quietly ate the cake, Malon smiling at the sight of the glasses still on his nose.

[seenoversundown]

Sparrow Of the Dawn : Chapter 1

Sam x Willa (Fem OC) Warnings: Alcohol / Mentions of drinking, brotherly banter, dark humor/mentions of death (if you squint), otherwise silly boys being boys.

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary : Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Authors Note: AHHHHH I can’t wait for everybody to read and I hope you all love it as much as I do!! I’m so excited and nervous, feels like I’m waiting for the midnight premiere of Deathly Hallows (part 2) all over again 🥹😭💜

Flower Power - Greta Van Fleet “She’s a sparrow of the dawn, our love is born”

“Oh, HEY,” Jake says sarcastically the second he opens the front door, “Nice of you to show up, Jackass,” huffing out a laugh as he shuts the door behind me. The scuffed-up cherry wood floor creaks under the weight of our feet as I follow him over to where he had been organizing new stock behind the bar. 

“Right.. aaand where’s my paycheck again?” I retort, sliding onto my regular spot and dropping my camera bag next to me. The spot in the dead center of the bar has been claimed as mine since before Jake even opened, the stool now complete with my etched initials SFK under the cushion. 

“Time is money, brother, and I lend you mine for free, so you get me when I’m free. Which apparently to you means 9 a.m.?” I say, clasping my hands on the bartop, “So please, tell me what is so important that I needed to be here so early.” He sourly smirks back at me.

“Yeah, yeah. I have a few new ones in for you to shoot, and I’d like to get it done before we get busy today.” He picks up his clipboard, eyeing his stock list.

 “We finally got the pomegranate Downeast released last month that was on backorder, as well as the pear and the guava passion fruit. Then we have ‘Reciprocal’ from Bissell Bros here in Portland, and ‘Interchangeable #7’ from Blaze Brewing in Biddo. I’d really like to get the blaze shot for our ads because it has the most interesting can art. But, ya know, I trust you.” He reads off.

A year ago, Jake, my older brother, bought this bar located right here in the heart of the Old Port. Back in his senior year of high school he got really into “Black Sails”, this pirate TV show; he practically made it his personality. Naturally, he decided he wanted to run a bar for the rest of his life, so when old man Chuck decided to retire, Jake jumped at the opportunity to purchase it. “Caravel Tavern” has only been open for 6 months and It's been his baby ever since. 

“Wow, Jake Kiszka putting trust in ME? Are you feeling okay?” I feign shock grabbing at my heart.

“Just get it done, you idiot,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

“Alright, alright,” I say, glancing over the options. “Give me like an hour. I have an idea that might work. I need to head to the farmer’s market in town, but I can have the best shots edited and emailed to you tomorrow, and then we can pick the best ones for print.” I grab my bag, digging around for my car keys. “Hey, when is Josh in today? I’d like to get some shots of you guys pouring drinks for the website and Instagram for Josh’s intro post.”

“He should be here by the time you’re done with everything. That is if he’s on time. But let's be realistic, when is a Kiszka ever on time?” He replies as he breaks down boxes with a box cutter. 

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I take a right onto the gravel that’s set behind the farmers market, my rusty 92’ Ford F-150 rattling as I park. I hope to god it’s just a heat shield making that noise. I cannot afford another repair on Edith. She may be an old crotchety bitch, but she has my whole heart. Well, right behind Penelope, my Bernese mountain dog, Penny girl will always be my number one.

Ding 

I put her in park and shove my hand into my backpack blindly searching for the source of the text tone. Finally finding my phone Tweedle Dum🦞 appears on the screen.. I let out a giggle. 

We’re running a special on whiskey sours tonight pick up some eggs, princess.

I switch Jake and Josh’s contact name back and forth between tweedle dee and tweedle dum mainly to keep them on their toes, but I’d be lying if I said tweedle dum isn’t just whoever has pissed me off or been dubbed the biggest dumbass that week. The emojis always stay the same so I can keep them actually straight though. 

You got it, boss, I send back to Jake, winning the title this week for making me wake up at the ass crack of 9am. Which absolutely is early for me. 

Gathering my things, I step out of my truck, immediately being hit with a cold gust of wind, the air causing my eyes to water slightly. I brush away a tear forming in my eye before it threatens to fall down my cheek. For it being the end of March the air is crispier than normal. I pause a moment too long, and a shiver runs through my body. I zip my jacket up a little higher, trying to preserve my body heat. Making sure I have my mesh bag with me, I shut my door and head over to the booths. 

I make a beeline for Linda, a sweet older woman who is here every week selling chicken eggs, various fruits from her garden, and some knick-knack crafts she makes. I have about seven bowl koozies, though I’m not sure I even own as many bowls considering it’s just me, but they are really good for ramen and ice cream. Which I do not eat together. Jake and Josh live in the apartment above the bar, so when I moved back after college, I got an apartment a couple roads away to stay close. 

Our parents moved out of our small hometown, which sits just on the other side of Portland. Padded off to Apple Valley, Georgia trying to settle into a warmer climate or something. They bought a house big enough for just the two of them and a guest room on an acre of land, “just in case any of you boys come to visit” Mom said. In all honesty, Apple Valley is just the same town, different state. They always said they didn’t like the city because it was too big, which is funny to me after spending the last four years in Boston. Everything here seems much smaller now.

“Morning Linda!” I smile and wave at her.

“Oh, Samuel. You’re up early this week. How are you doing, Sweetheart? How’s my Daniel?” She flashes me a warm smile. She’s also Daniel’s biggest fan. Pretty sure she only comes into the bar to see him, even though I met her first. But what can I say? I’m apparently an excellent matchmaker; we just won't mention the fact that she's 72.

I chuckle, “I’m just out running some errands for Jake. I’m on call today, apparently. Daniel’s good though! He misses you, ya know.” I finish flashing her a wink.

She lets out a high-pitched laugh, “I’ll be down to visit with Miss Eleanor. You tell him not to worry.” She raises an eyebrow and smirks at me, “Anyway, what can I get ya my dear?”

“Think two dozen will do it for today.” I hand her a crumpled ten-dollar bill in exchange, “Keep the change, Lin. I’ll see you at the bar or next Saturday, whichever comes first.” I set the eggs carefully in my tote and head toward my next stop, the flower truck.

The beer I’m photographing for the bar has a brightly colored logo in a style reminiscent of comic book art. A bold red can with yellow, blue, and purple adorning the signature name. My idea is to use a bouquet of different flowers to accent the colors and make the can pop. 

I scan through the metal buckets, trying to mentally piece together an arrangement without disturbing the flowers too much. They are far too delicate to be pulling and yanking on them just to try them out for size. Some of the people here, like Linda, make their living posting up every Saturday. 

I reach for a bundle of forget-me-nots, settling on those along with the last of the remaining Irises, a few red Dahlias, Daffodils, and Butterfly Milkweed. Taking a step back slightly away from the displays, I start to rearrange the bouquet to my liking. Extending my arms out in front of me, and changing my angle to make sure I like how the flowers look together. Just as I decide that, yes, these will do for what their intended purpose is, I feel someone aggressively poking my bicep. 

I turn toward the person attached to the finger. Not going to lie; I’m a bit impressed by the force of it, considering I’m wearing a sweater under my quilted jacket, and the woman who’s doing the poking is standing at about 5 foot nothing and looks like a swift breeze might carry her away. I blink slowly at her a few times and raise my eyebrows waiting expectedly.

“Did someone die, or did you just fuck up like, wicked bad?” the snark heavily laden on her tone. 

I close my eyes and let out a long breath, “Uhm, it’s uhh –” I stutter a bit, really trying to play it up, “My grandma died last week, actually. Did you know her? Her name was Althea.” I gaze down at my shoes and drop my head a bit, taking a moment before I attempt to look for her reaction through my eyelashes. If I held my breath long enough, I might just be able to work up a tear. Would that be too dramatic? .. maybe.

“Oh.. uh. No, I didn’t. I’m sor–” Regret immediately paints her face.

“I’m fucking with you.” I let out a small laugh

“What?” her eyes narrow at me, trying to figure out if I’m lying or telling the truth.

“I’m joking, my grandma is fine. Are you okay? Or is it a normal occurrence for you to ask a complete stranger if they’re mourning a dead relative?" Amusement settles on my face.

She lets out an audible groan. Why is she so angry? She tugs down at the sides of her short floral dress and waves a hand out toward my arrangement. 

“Why on earth do you need every single purple flower!?” She exclaims, “And who jokes about their grandma dying?” stamping her beaten-up Doc Marten into the patchy grass. She actually stomped her foot at me. What are we twelve?

I roll my eyes and attempt to alleviate the situation, “Bachelor Buttons.” 

I have work to do and absolutely do not need an attitude from a complete stranger, even if she is cute. I have brothers for that purpose, and they do their jobs well enough.

 “They’re mostly purple but with a bit of blue. They symbolize love if you’re trying to give them to someone important.” I scratch the back of my head and briefly hope she says she’s not. I immediately throw the thought away with a shake of my head. Nope, not opening that door.

“I don’t need Bachelor Buttons.” 

“.. ookaay. You could always d –” 

“I need Irises.” She says, cutting me off, “Specifically. Okay? And I’m fine, but if I can't find irises today because of you count *poke* your *poke* days!” she ends her sentiment with a final sharp poke to my chest and storms away. God damn, her finger is like a tiny dagger.

Listen, growing up without any sisters means I don’t know much about women, but what I do know .. is definitely never believe one when they say they’re fine. 

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As I walk through the door of Caravel Tavern for the second time today, I call out, “Okay, Jake, I’m back with your eggs, Asshole. Where are you?”

I set my camera bag and the eggs down and lean over the counter, checking to see if he’s kneeling behind the bar top.

 “.. Jake?” I look side to side. Where the hell is he? It’s the middle of the day, not nearly early enough for lunch.. Not like the guy takes a break anyway. 

“JAKE WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” I yell through my cupped hands. The sound echoes through the empty space.

He comes running from the back room, a panic written on his face. “Jesus Christ, Sam, what?”

“Got your eggs.” grinning wildly at him. I swear I'm actually his favorite brother. 

“Well, thanks, Samuel, for being useful for one thing today.” He says, before changing his tone, “You okay? You look a bit tense?”

“Yeah,” absentmindedly, my hand drifts to my shoulder, rubbing at the area where angry-flower-girl poked me earlier. “Actually, you’ll never believe what happened to me at the farmers market.”

He’s not looking at me when he hums his response, just putting the eggs in the mini fridge next to the ice well. I slide the second carton over to him.

“I ran into this girl, actually, she ran into me rather. I was picking out the bouquet arrangement for the photos I want to take and she sorta.. Came at me poking?”

He slowly stands and looks at me, his brow furrowed a bit. “She.. came at you?” He pauses. “Poking?”

“Poking,” I point to my shoulder in disbelief.

“Okay, and what did this poking girl want?”

“To yell at me for taking all the irises. I tried to do the gentlemanly thing and suggest an alternative, but she poked me some more and stomped off. She was hot as hell even if she was a bit psychotic.” 

“Well, why did you take all the irises? You also could have taken the other- wait, “ Jake pauses, turning to face me head-on. He sets the empty carton on the counter, “No, whatever you’re thinking about, cut it out,” He points at me, “Did you forget about the last ‘cute but insane’ girl?” 

“Hey, she wasn’t that bad! AND she was really hot?!” both hands raised.

“Sam, she cracked your windshield” he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Just as I’m about to further protest, “Cracked windshield? We’re not talking about ‘the Bride of Chucky’ are we?” Josh says

“Oh, come on guys, you can say her name. And again.. She wasn't that bad.”

“No, every time you say her name she comes back like Voldemort, and none of us need that shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Get your ass clocked in so I get your headshots done, and you can get to work lest Jake have a stroke.” I lean toward Josh and whisper, “You’re already late.”

“When isn’t he late?” Jake sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Well,” Josh claps his hands together, “it is clearly time for my close-up. Sammy, let’s get this shit fest over with.”  

Oh, Josh, ever the dramatic brother.

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I don’t spend a ton of time taking Josh’s photos, grateful that he isn’t afraid of the camera. I barely have to direct him, which makes my life that much easier. If he could work on just not being a pain in the ass the rest of the time, that’d be great. 

A few goodbyes later, and I’m finally off to edit. Putting all my things into the passenger seat and giving my truck some words of encouragement, the engine turns over. Thank fucking god. I live fairly close to the bar, so I decide to not bother with the radio and just listen to whatever comes my way. 

Still thinking about the poking girl, mostly because my chest was sore. I didn’t expect to be stabbed today. I do hope she found her Irises…  

‘Now I don’t hardly know her, but I think I could love her,’

I turn the volume up on the radio, hoping it’ll help me focus on driving and not thinking about her.  

I make it back home, throwing the truck in park and hustling up to my apartment. I’m quickly greeted by my bundle of joy. I set all my things out to edit on the counter and take care of Miss P before I start working.

Taking a walk is probably what I needed to do anyway. 

I got Penelope right after I graduated and moved back up here. Being used to a house full of people to just living alone was.. well, lonely. I think I lasted only a few months living alone before I gave in and went to find a pet. The twins suggested a cat because they’re fairly low maintenance, and their plan was to get a couple cats once their lives settled a bit. Settled ended up being right around when Jake bought the bar, I would hardly call that settled, but it worked out for them. Me on the other hand, I’m more of a dog person. As soon as I saw Penny, I knew she’d be my adventure buddy, coming with me on my walks and hikes and photography trips. It’s definitely easier with a dog, despite what Josh says about how easy it is to train a cat with a harness to adventure with you.

Once she is settled in after our walk, I sit down to edit for a while. Pulling up the photos of Josh, something seems off. Why are half of these out of focus? I think to myself, scrolling through the options. If he could have just stopped talking for two seconds, this one would have looked good.  The longer I scroll through the options, the more annoyed I get. Why did she poke me so fucking hard? Finding myself rubbing the spot on my chest, I force myself to get up for a minute. Maybe I just need to walk around. Wandering into my bathroom, I pull the collar of my shirt down to see the spot, if it doesn’t actually bruise, I’ll be SHOCKED.  

Sitting back down, I take one look at the photo I've been trying to salvage, letting out a sigh. This is awful. 

Me: hey I’m not super happy with how Josh’s pics came out.. Do you care if I just borrow him in the morning to get some new ones? 

Me: Not at 6am tho-  it’ll be Sunday, The Lord’s day, and he would want me to get my beauty rest. 

Tweedle Dum🦞: lol that’s fine bud 

Me: I may come back for a drink tho. Shit has me STRESSED.

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“God, Sam, don’t you ever leave?” Josh calls from behind the bar. 

“You’d think I was tired of looking at your ugly mug all day, but guess not.” My lips wind into a tight smile. “Can I actually get a drink? I’m annoyed as fuck that I hate all the pictures I took today, and a drink sounds like the perfect remedy.” 

“Turning to alcohol to solve your problems, hmm?”

“Shhhhh,” I wave my hands in front of me. “Can I get a Clover Club, maybe? In a whiskey glass.. No garnish. I don’t wanna look like a little bitch.” I groan 

“Let your freak flag fly, brother,” spinning away to go make my drink and tend to the other patrons seated down the bar top. 

This drink really better do the trick so I can relax for five minutes. Honestly, the pressure I put on myself to make sure I do well for Jake’s pride and joy, along with trying to find my own way with a full-time job is a little exhausting. It’s hard knowing that Caravel is his baby; he really doesn’t have much else going on. I swear if he got laid, he’d be a hell of a lot less uptight about it, but I digress. I don’t totally feel like I’m the most reliable person, but I try to make sure he can count on me and I don’t contribute to his stress. Ya know, he’s my brother, and I want him to be as proud of me as I am of him for doing what he loves so much. I don’t think I tell him enough how proud I really am of him. He’s someone I look to for inspiration for trying to pave my own way. I’d never tell him that though, because he’d probably think I was yanking his chain or something. I have a job trial-type thing down in Boston later this week, and I’m really hoping it turns out to be something good. I could use something good right now.

Josh interrupts my thoughts, setting my drink down, “Just how you asked for it in a cocktail glass with extra garnish.”

I sigh audibly, “Ya know, I don’t even care. Gimme it.” I gulp it down in nearly one go. Josh looks surprised at me. Whether it’s because of my eagerness or because he knows I’m terrible at holding my alcohol, I’m not sure. I don’t care. 

“One more.” I close my eyes, waiting for the gin to work its magic on me. Feeling my muscles relax bit by bit, my brow finally straightens out, and I sink down against the wall closest to my seat. I sigh audibly again, though this time it’s one of relief.

The longer I sit here, the more people are trickling in. Sipping on my drink this time, I notice people in all sorts of outfits looking vaguely like anime characters. Gathering in little cliques of friend groups, a few interesting folk bouncing from table to table. I can't tell if time is moving incredibly fast or if the alcohol has made me move slower, but suddenly, I have the realization that it’s packed in here. Since opening, they’ve been able to handle everything behind the bar, just the two of them, with Daniel manning the door, but I don’t think they’re equipped to handle whatever event these people are overflowing from. 

I swig back the last sip of my drink, grab my glass, and make my way to the back room. I toss the raspberry garnish before setting the glass in the sink to be washed. Grabbing the ice bucket, I start to fill it to make sure the front is stocked for them; ice is usually always the first thing to go. I lug the full bucket back behind the bar, and refill the ice well. 

“Thanks, Sammy. Hey,  would you mind bussing some of the tables and asking the people with tabs if they need any refills, please? I’ll make sure I put you on the payroll for the night,” Jake asks, eyes pleading and desperate for help. And really, who am I to say no to him?

“Of course I can. I’ve got nothing else better to do anyway.” I start to reach for a tray. 

“Thanks. I mean it.” he says, squeezing my shoulder, “I forgot PortCon was happening, and we’re close to one of the hotels.” He explains before returning to the drink he's making. 

That explains the costumes. I do my rounds checking to make sure everyone seated in the booths are okay, grabbing the empty drinks out of their way, making light conversation when I can. I bring a tray of glasses, napkins, and various random trash items back behind the bar and set them in the bin next to Jake. Just as I go to take another trip, my eyes catch the door. Of course. Of course, this would happen to me. I can’t have a single day go smoothly if my life depended on it. Good God, someone is out to get me, I swear. 

“Fuck me,” I say out loud. 

“Who is that?” Jake says to me as he’s working on his current drink order. 

“The angry-flower-girl with the dagger fingers,” I pause, looking at the dude standing next to her, “annnd her date.”

“Oh shit.”

Crimson and Clover - Tommy James and the Shondells

“Now I don't hardly know her But I think I could love her Crimson and clover”

&lt;- Prologue Chapter Two ->

Masterpost | Taglist | Jukebox Playlist

Taglist:

@gvfsstardust, @myleftsock, @mindastreamofcolours, @dont-go-home-without-me, @literal-dead-leaf, @lizzys-sunflower, @threadofstars, @mackalah, @klarxtr, @edgingthedarkness, @writingcold, @i-love-gvf, @takenbythemadness, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @ourlovesdesire, @peaceloveunitygvf, @anythingforjtk

[buckera]

☀️ writing patterns ☀️

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10+1 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

because we'll all arrive in heaven alive

buddie | 51.4k and counting | Explicit

Thursday, day 5

Buck was still trying to wrap his head around what had happened, it was all so quick; the rain, the debris, the mudslide and then the moment of radio silence before the chaotic explosion of noise.

“We’re not giving up on him.” Bobby had said at the time, but after four days, it has become abundantly clear that instead of a search and rescue, most people have already started to treat this as a recovery mission; except they still haven’t recovered the person who mattered the most.

And When You Speak, Angels Sing From Above

buddie + Shannon centric | 2.8k | Gen

Eddie should’ve seen it coming; the fancy restaurant, the idle evening walk in the city and the arranged sleepover giving them all night to be alone. In his defense, he was blinded by how perfect it all seemed.

Right up to the moment they got home, tangled into each other, rolling along the walls of the hallway, kissing and giggling at the increasingly silly things that Buck kept saying — then, Buck was suddenly gone from his personal space, getting down on one knee in front of him instead, saying words that rang through Eddie’s ears, without their meaning managing to penetrate the walls of his brain.

It didn’t matter.

no harm, no foul

buddie | 4.9k | Mature

The last couple of days felt… Well, honestly, confusing would be the word Buck would use.

The one thing that became clear in the recent weeks, was that he and Eddie were done pretending that there wasn’t something going on between them. (Right after spending at least two months violently dismissing any notion of such an idea, while simultaneously wondering if the other was doing the same. God, they could be really stupid sometimes… Buck was honestly surprised they even made it this far like this.)

Unfortunately, that clarity still left something else much more blurry; their direction.

we’ve got something permanent (i mean in the way we care)

buddie | 7.1k | Explicit

In hindsight, Eddie should’ve seen it coming from a mile away, after the week they’ve had.

It started out by having two days off back to back — which Eddie had planned on using to lay about the house, maybe with some slow make out sessions peppered in, while Chris was at school.

Apparently, Buck had other ideas.

Keep My Heart Warm In Yours

buddie | 18.5k | Mature

The whole thing started with Youtube — as most things do when 12-year-olds are concerned.

Christopher shuffled into the living room with determination, where Eddie was trying to figure out the settings of his new smart TV and Buck was folding and flipping the instruction manual back and forth, trying to find the beginning of it when Chris shoved his phone under his nose.

Of Love, Hospital Jitters And Christmas Lights

buddie | 6.3k | Teen + Up

“MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!” Buck shouted frantically as he pushed past people and ran through the sliding doors leading to the ER.

A nurse ran up to him immediately, waving to people behind herself for help and Buck felt his fingers go numb with fear as he tried to focus on her face.

You Ring, I Drool

buddie | 8.6k | Explicit

Eddie had long realized the resemblance, but it started to become more and more evident lately — and much harder to ignore.

Simply put; Buck was like a dog. In more ways than one.

If This Is What The Season Is Bringing

buddie | 2k | Teen + Up

December 25th 2021

Buck went straight to the fridge after he kicked his door shut. He really needed a beer right about now.

Okay, so Eddie was leaving the 118. Fine.

Well, not fine, nowhere near fine actually.

Out Of Order, Still In Line

buddie | 6.2k | Explicit

Buck could barely believe that today was finally The Day.

After weeks of power outages, paperwork mix-ups, unauthorised appointments and last minute emergencies, Buck finally made it to the Clinic.

And now here he was.

I Was Betting On Forever (But Forever Comes And Goes)

buddie | 4k | Teen + Up

Eddie was startled awake by the forceful ring of his phone.

He reached over to the nightstand blindly with an annoyed huff and pulled the phone off of the charger. He held it above his face, the brightness of the screen making him squint as he read the caller ID.

Unknown Caller.

Coming On Ever So Strong / Coming Off Ever So Soft

buddie | 14.7k | Explicit

Today

Buck didn’t have the best track record when drunk.

That was probably the explanation why his head was pounding like someone was trying to break into his skull with a sledgehammer. And why there was someone pressed up to his side in his own bed.

☀️✨☀️✨☀️

oh I feel so exposed lmao all those pointed single sentence lines dropped in there, just to set the tone are definitely something I swear by... I also use timestamps a lot cuz I love to jump all over the place and then of course there's my dearest friend; in medias res.

I was tagged by the wonderful @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon and @wikiangela mwuahhh 💛 and I'm totally no pressure tagging @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck and whoever else feels like giving this a go ✨

[theswiftheartsystem]

We got posted on r/fdc let’s discuss.

So we knew this was going to happen, and rather then being sad about this, we’d like to point out flaws in the arguments. Obviously warning for fake claiming.

also warnings for: talks about trauma and abuse, splitting, mental health episodes, psyche wards, ableism, making a joke out of exorcisms.

First off, “disorder salad” on that introduction post we only talked about things we were medically recognized as having or diagnosed with. Also the “it’s always the anime ones” it’s a picrew? A lot of Picrews are in a anime style, and if you go to Louise’s actual alter intro she uses not just picrews.

This one is just making fun of us. I don’t think we have ever fully posted why we are so connected to the character, but I’ll explain now. So when we were little we went through a lot of abuse and trauma. We had a lot of DVDs and a couple were CareBears. And we felt safe when we watched silly little characters like that. It brought us relief. We aren’t sure why we are so attached to Swift Heart specifically, but we have a little who is obsessed with the color blue and rabbits that formed around that time. We even own the original 80s plush which we found thrifting and means so much to us, plus a few other things of the character. We named our system this, not only because it represents our trauma, but also it represents safety, a light in the dark.

When did we self diagnose???? Also in that post we state that we intend to talk about the bad sides. We don’t think this is fun. Yes we portray ourselves a certain way, but we actually have constant flashbacks, panic attacks, and BPD episodes. It’s sometimes a daily thing. For around 2-3 weeks we would split at least once a day. We don’t think thats fun. But also sometimes you can enjoy life and enjoy being plural. When you live like this you learn to enjoy what you have and what you are living with. If we didn’t we wouldn’t survive. How parasocial do you have to be to think A TUMBLR ACCOUNT shows how we are 24/7.

Going back to the Self Diagnosis thing, We were being treated for DID before anyone put a label on it. We were talked to about “how when someone has many parts of them, sometimes fusion can help them feel more whole.” And asked when dissociating and acting strange who we were regularly asked who we where. When we we’re 15, we had gone to the Psyche ward for the 2nd time, and they couldn’t diagnose us, because of our age at the time, but they strongly suggested we get tested for it when we were old enough. And to get them to recommend anything, they have to talk to all the therapists, doctors, and psychologists, especially the ones who work with you. It’s been years since then, and guess what? We still have DID!

Finally the last claim out of the first comment, the Sub-System thing, that wasn’t in the original post, and I’m unaware who edited it in, but the reason we are confused if they are a subsystem, is because they are plural as it’s where dormant alters are stored. They speak as one and it’s quite strange. Not sure how to explain it.

Okay, comment 2:

The difference between DID and OSDD-1 in the DSM-5 is it’s nearly DID but isn’t quite. (Bad explanation, but these people need simple explanations) often times, it’s the alters are not distinct enough from the host, or a lack of blackout amnesia. This isn’t always the case but that’s what they were referring to. Also have you read the DSM-5’s entry on DID and OSDD-1?.. We have, many times actually. Guess what? it’s purposefully vague FOR A REASON. Because disorders are complex and wouldn’t be able to fit everyone if it was to specific.

This is just ableism. We have been told this by people and our life (luckily nothing was done), and we have heard stories about systems going through this. This stuff is incredibly traumatizing to the people who go through it. This kind of rhetoric being treated as a joke is disgusting.

We aren’t online everyday (also you, the person who commented this, have posted 10 times in the last 11 hours)

The stuff we are “faking” are often co-morbid with DID?!?!

I’m pretty sure this comment is trying to be like “they are doing it for attention to deal with their trauma that’s so sad 🥺🥺🥺”

If that’s the case, you are adding onto the problem

if you believe us and feel bad for us, thanks, but posting it on that subreddit just boost the post which can lead to harassment.

That’s literally the words that was told to us. By our former therapist. We believe it’s C-PTSD, but we put that instead of that because some reason we struggle to believe we have PTSD more then we do DID at this point.

Anyway, yeah, we’d thought we debunk/explain why the argument they have is stupid, they have a platform, but so do we.

[this-thing-saved-me]

This Show Saved Me - BTVS 7x22

7x22 Chosen

I will never not find it funny that to stream Buffy I have to go to Disney+. Or the fact that the most recent episode I’d watched (whenever that was) was this one. Since I’m pretty sure I left my rewatch mid-season 3.

But that’s the thing about this particular episode. It’s practically a perfect finale. And felt like the right place to start, because who says everything should happen in order. That’s not always how life works. 

THERE WILL LIKELY BE ABUNDANT SPOILERS FOR A FINALE THAT AIRED OVER TWENTY YEARS AGO. There, that was your warning. And now for some Cole's notes “Story so far.”

Okay, so Buffy’s been through it by this point. The First has annihilated her self-confidence and Caleb has been on the warpath. Spike has told her she’s the one (!!!), whether she fully believes in herself yet or not. (SIDENOTE: yes, I ship Spuffy. Yes, there are very, very valid reasons not to. However I am a big fan of redemption arcs and where they land by the end of the comics feels like as healthy a place as possible with a very real love.)

And Angel shows up trying to be all tall-dark and forehead. Which I get, he’s Angel, he needs to be in the finale. But ultimately he's a delivery boy and he didn’t need to do it in person other than to prompt the first on my list of loves for this episode. 

Which is what I lovingly refer to as the "Cookie Speech." Buffy knows she has more growing to do and she’s self-aware enough to share that with the first love of her life. She’s come a long way from the season of post-resurrection depression, but she’s still not quite ready for what Angel might like her to be (granted he’s JUST lost Cordelia so the fact that he is back at Buffy’s door is a rant for another post.) The idea that things aren’t working for her romantically because she’s not done baking. She hasn’t figured out all that she wants to be. While I love love LOVE this analogy, I wonder if there’s ever really a time in our lives where we are done baking? Besides the end of course. We’re supposed to evolve. We’re supposed to grow.

Spike is her Champion, not Angel. They’ve seen the best and the worst of each other, remember? He knows she needs someone strong, someone with a soul, and despite the bad, she knows he’s earned the right to the title through growing and atoning. Motivated people can change, and that’s something I believe that Spike has shown.

“He had to split” - the joke is LHF and I love it. Does its utterance deserve a place on this list? Yes. Because it's very me-coded. I’d have a very hard time not making the same joke if I had just rendered a man from stem to stern. But I digress. This episode is serious and still silly. It’s the epitome of BTVS episodes. I mean Spike waking from a dream yelling “I’m drowning in Cool Whip,” come on. It’s akin to “the cheese wears me” in off kilter nonsense. Plus Anya later finding her strength in her hatred for "floppy, hoppy bunnies" will never not kill me. (Or her, again spoiler.) I adore Emma Caufield.

Willow is afraid to use magic because of her history with the darkness. Not knowing if she’s stable enough. I can identify with her at this moment after clawing back from my own mental health blip a couple years ago. She went dark. (I went, arguably, nuts) She’s regained her balance but how secure? It’s going to turn out to be really secure because “Oh my goddess” she’s got this. AND…

The fact that Kennedy is there for Willow to help keep her grounded. Her very presence supports Willow but isn’t the deciding factor for victory. Willow needs to believe in herself that she won’t go back over that edge. She touched the darkness and it freaked her the f out. (Once she came back down from the overwhelm and shock of her grief.) I lived in that fear for a long time. And I’m grateful for the grounding I’ve found outside of the support of others, but within myself.

Just for fun, let’s chat about the DND session. Even the scoobies needed to disassociate before the big thing. And self-permission to have fun during challenging times is key. It can’t all be doom and gloom. Sometimes you recharge that nervous energy through Trogdor the Burninator references and that’s more than okay.

Ultimately we have the’ shared power’ speech. “Here’s the part where you make a choice” more specifically. Because they could easily choose to let the First and its legions overwhelm the world and finally be the apocalypse they couldn’t handle. It’s easier to stay down. It’s easier to say I can’t. But where does that get you? Making that choice to take your power back and say I am more than what wants to overwhelm me is a beautiful moment. This moment, where all the Potentials get their piece of the power pie is tremendously moving. I get shivers just thinking about it. Male or female, we don’t need the permission of Slayer power to take back our own. To say ‘no more’ and get back up off the ground. (Although Slayer strength would be badass, let’s be real.)

The bottom line, this episode epitomises what I love about Buffy and the Whedon-verse. Real characters in a fantastic world who battle larger than life caricatures of the demons we fight in our daily lives. This show saved me in a lot of ways. My very first boyfriend got me to watch it back in 2005, which he may have regretted as it CONSUMED my brain for most of grade 12. It was the perfect time for me to experience this show. I credit it for helping me find my voice offline. I was always a nose-in-a-book girl or heavily distracted with FanFiction. I was one of the quietest in my friend group, not really feeling like there was a value to what I had to say. The message that we can choose to be strong and fight back? That’s one that I’ll eternally be grateful for and will carry with me, always. What’s your favourite episode? And why is it “Once More With Feeling”? ;)

(Honourable mention goes to this eye contact where my headcanon is convinced he sees she really does love him despite him telling her otherwise seconds before. THOSE SMG EYES! I can't.)

[cringevalue]

i posted this silly little thing about pre-transition eddie coming out to uncle wayne and i wrote an extra part with steve, but the writing was sloppy so i didn’t include it in the fic. anyway! i’m gonna post it here just for funzies.

tags: steddie, trans male eddie, coming out, a little bit more wayne & eddie fluff

wc: 616

“So, let me get this straight,” Steve started, scaring Eddie a little. Eddie expected everything to be cut off after this — hell, he expected to take a few punches before everything got cut off. “You don’t want to be called Elizabeth anymore? Or Lizzie? Or Lizard?”

“You’ve never called me Lizard,” Eddie said.

“Your Uncle Wayne has.”

“He’s my Uncle Wayne.”

“Fair enough.” Steve put his hands on his hips as he thought about everything, and Eddie groaned. “Give me a second! God damn. So, it’s Edward now?”

“Or Eddie.”

“Or Eddie. Okay. Okay. And you’re a boy?”

“Yes?”

“You’re Eddie and you’re a boy. Got it. So, what now? Do you just want me to call you a he?”

“I mean, yeah? Kinda.”

“Okay. That’s cool, I guess.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Do you like girls now, or…?”

“No. Yes? Maybe. I don’t know. I still like boys. I definitely like boys.”

Steve chuckled. “That’s gay.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’re gay.”

“So… Are you cutting your hair?”

“No, I want to keep it long.”

Steve nodded. “Does this mean I’m actually gay?”

Eddie froze, his eyes widening just slightly. “I… What? Why would this-“

“Well, if you’re a boy, and I’m a boy…”

“Nope.” Wayne walked up and grabbed Eddie’s shoulders. “We’re done here.”

Eddie shrugged Wayne off. “Hold on… You actually like me? All that joking around was…”

“I wasn’t joking around. At least not for like, the second half of it,” Steve admitted.

“So, you-“

“I like you, Li- Eddie. I like you, Eddie.”

Wayne groaned at this point and said, “Fine! Get it over with.”

Eddie shook his fists excitedly as he walked closer to Steve. Steve grabbed Eddie’s jaw with one hand, pulling his face closer.

Steve tasted like mint toothpaste and coffee flavored chapstick, and Eddie tasted like the menthol cigarette he smoked out of desperation before coming out to Steve. Steve’s lips were soft and Eddie’s were more chapped and cracked than usual — he’s always been bad at taking care of his lips and face, but he had been intentionally neglecting that kind of self care since coming out to Wayne, because he thought it might make him more masculine.

“Five… Four… Three…”

Steve tried to pull away, but Eddie pulled him back, chuckling against his lips.

“Two… One! That’s enough!”

Eddie finally pulled away from Steve and turned around to face Wayne, who was refusing to look at either of them.

Eddie put a finger to Steve’s lips to keep him quiet and started making wet sounds with his mouth.

“I said that’s-“ Wayne whipped around, getting ready to pull them away, only to be met with Eddie loudly smacking his lips, holding back a giggle. “God damn you, kid. Say goodbye to your little boyfriend, we still have shopping to do.”

“You can borrow some of my clothes, if you-“

“No!” Eddie and Wayne cut off Steve in unison.

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender. “Jeez, okay. I was just offering.”

Eddie shook his head with a chuckle. “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

He gave Steve one last peck on the lips before getting forcefully dragged away by Wayne.

“I’m gonna beat your ass when we get home,” Wayne grumbled.

—

When they got home, Wayne forced Eddie to do a fashion show to show off the cheapest articles of clothing they got from the men’s section. Just to mess with him, Eddie had walked out in a t-shirt and his new boxers, making Wayne cover his eyes and scream.

Eventually, Eddie got to cuddle up with Wayne on the couch and watch a horror movie.

“You’re not gonna beat my ass?”

“Never.”

[mephinomaly]

[TL] PYSCHOBREAK/Chapter 17

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Rei: In actuality, during the battle to exterminate the delinquents, not a single one of them showed face. Therefore, UNDEAD won the DreFes by default.

That is how it was supposed to go. In the dream, I was able to identify one of the delinquents that was not originally there.

That boy was our culprit. In our dream, it was only possible to exist if we were close to our bodies.

Therefore, in order for him to rewrite history, he would need to be at least nearby.

He must have sensed we were trying to go back in time to do something, so he grew anxious and came to check on us. At that point I discovered who exactly it was and belayed him.

And that is why I did not immediately go on stage, as I was in the audience searching for the culprit. It wasn’t that I was unmotivated, really really.

Koga: Even in the real timeline you didn’t get on stage.

Kaoru: Right~, it was a once-in-a-lifetime debut live, how could you miss it? That’s what you told me since I used to skip class and stuff a lot.

Adonis: I agree. I felt like that too. I was uneasy and scared, I almost hated Sakuma-senpai for not showing up.

Rei: Eh? What are you all blaming me for everything lately!?

A-anyhow, once I had identified the culprit's face, the rest was quite simple. Once I had returned to the real timeline, all I had to do was find him.

Once we had done as such, he lost control of HELLSING and the bots stopped functioning, leading us to where we are now.

Adonis: So the culprit has been disposed of, and the situation has been fixed…?

Koga: That’s great ‘n all, but what about now? What about this current situation?

We’re in the middle of a live!? The culprit’s bound t’be pissed off, since we stopped his plan— it’ll be bad if HELLSING is stopped now!

Fans from all over the country have travelled here to see us perform!

We can’t stop jus’ ‘cos somethin’ came up!

Rei: Kukuku. You are surprisingly sharp, however on the other hand, you can be surprisingly dim-witted and silly too.

Koga: Haa!?

Rei: Look at them.

Koga: You mean HELLSING?

Rei: Umu. Let us become HELLSING’s representatives. I’m not exactly sure what representing our representatives entails but—

The public is unaware of the existence of these fakes, so to them, HELLSING is simple an offshoot of UNDEAD.

Let’s look at it from the public’s point of view. The real Kaoru-kun, Koga, Adonis-kun and I– us four, make up HELLSING.

Koga: …Yeah but, that’s not possible? Ya know, ‘cos you two wimpy senpais insist on doin’ those variety shows?

Kaoru: Ohh, don’t be silly. Variety shows are a lot of work, you know? Whilst it doesn’t tie directly into what we do on stage, it definitely helps.

There’s already a difference in ability between us, the two main attractions of UNDEAD, and you guys. So I guess it just widens the gap between us?

Don’t hold us back, ‘kay? ♪

Koga: HaA!? Bring it on playboy! Unlike you who slacks off all the time, I practise so hard everyday it could kill me!

Watch out! I’ll have you beggin’ for mercy, screamin’ out like “noooo～I’ll never be able to beat Koga-sama and Adonis-sama!”

Rock’n’roll…!

♪～♪～♪

Rei: Kukuku. You’re rather good at lighting a fire beneath Koga, Kaoru-kun.

Kaoru: I was only copying you～？

Adonis: Fufu. I’m happy. We’re starting to look like ourselves again.

If we have each other, we’ll be okay no matter what happens.

I believe that. Believe me, you can entrust everything to me.

Let us put our body and soul into our song and dance. That is what I can do, and that is my joy and happiness.

I won’t let those vampires, I won’t let anyone take the place where I belong from me!

♪～♪～♪

Kaoru: Woah, it’s rare to see Adonis-kun get this hyped up ♪

Rei: He’s always been a quiet but passionate boy.

Well then. We can’t let our kohai out shine us, can we? Let’s do our best too.

Kaoru: Yupyup. Don’t hurt your back though, old man ♪

I’m also pretty pissed at the culprit, so it’ll be a good stress reliever to sing and dance the best I can.

I have to let him know it’s impossible to replace any of us.

So today, I’ll show him how serious I can be.

♪～♪～♪

Rei: (Kukuku. Bravo, bravo. I was worried how things would go but— in the end, everything ended rather amicably, as usual.)

(That world is nothing more. A happy, propitious ending.)

(Ah, it’s so bright…The stage always has been. The stage is filled with a radiance that could burn me alive.)

(I cannot laugh at the culprit. I too, once averted my gaze from this brightness and turned my back on the stage.)

(However, I have no intention to do that now.)

(I will bask in its brilliancy. Even if it turns me to ash, this is my long-cherished ambition.)

(So what now? Are you watching, you foolish, pathetic criminal?)

(Back then, there was a pitiful​ adolescent Sakuma Rei who had lost all hope for the world.)

(―Aren’t you jealous of me ♪)

♪～♪～♪

Tonight, we feast! Breath in HELLSING, and let us into your soul—Us, UNDEAD, will grow ever stronger!

We are UNDEAD!

No matter if an army a million men strong attacks us, even if we are consumed by hellfire, UNDEAD will be reborn from those flames again and again! We will be resurrected!

Until my last breath, nay, beyond that! We will burn brightly for eternity, even in the depths of hell! Join us, and allow this enjoyable feast to begin!

If that is what you desire, this radical, immoral, sweet night will never end!

♪～♪～♪

[ ☆ ]

Chapter 16

Epilogue 1