#out of Bristol and away from everyone else

[breannasfluff]

Ask game- Stranded; Dick Grayson and Danny

“You headed to Gotham, too?” Dick smiles at the only other passenger at the bus station.

The kid grunts and glances at him from the corner of his eye. Rightfully wary. 

“I’m Dick,” he says, undeterred. “Looks like the bus is running late and we’re going to be stuck here a while.”

“Danny,” the kid finally answers. This time he gives Dick a once over, then relaxes slightly. “I’ve already been waiting nearly an hour. It’s freezing. Is the bus normally this delayed?”

“It’s going to Gotham,” Dick says with a shrug. “If a rogue attacked, the schedule gets thrown off.” Maybe he should accept Bruce’s offer of a car so he can drive instead of relying on public transportation. But his apartment doesn’t have parking and even if it did he’d lose the car to thieves in a week tops. “Why are you headed to Gotham?”

“Holiday party. Meeting a friend.” Danny burrows further into his coat like a turtle retreating into its shell. It doesn’t come across unfriendly, just…cold.

Undeterred, Dick continues to prattle on about light topics until he’s drawn Danny into an actual conversation. By the time the bus comes the kid is halfway through a rant about space and a lot more animated. 

They split ways in Gotham. 

“Have fun with your friend! Sorry you’re late for your party.”

Danny shrugs and checks his phone, glaring at the time. “Not much I can do about it. Hopefully they understand. Nice to meet you, Dick! Happy holidays.

“Happy holidays!” Dick waves before turning to walk down the street, pulling out a phone to call Alfred. He’s not waiting for another bus to transfer to Bristol. 

The rogue attack delayed the Wayne holiday party so even though Dick is late, it doesn’t matter. It was only Calendar Man so everyone is still in a good mood. Jason is even there glaring at his phone. 

When the doorbell rings a good 45 minutes later, Dick volonteers to get it. Alfred is busy in the kitchen. Although…who else would be coming over at this time? Gordon, maybe? 

The door swings open to reveal–

“Danny?”

The teen blinks at him, nonplussed. “Dick?”

“Are you stalking me?” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the way to go, but Dick is too surprised to come up with anything else.

Danny gives him a weird look. “How often are you stalked that that’s your first guess?”

“Danny!” Jason appears in the door, shoving Dick to the side. “You made it!”

“Buss was delayed.” With a grin, Danny comes in, giving Jason a hug. “So is this the infamous Dick I’ve heard so much about?”

Little Wing talks about him? Also, Jason has a friend? A…normal friend? His age? Who likes space and isn’t a morally grey ex-con? Dick firms his lip to keep from tearing up. Maybe there’s hope for someone in this family after all. 

“How'd you know?” Jason asks.

“We were stranded waiting for the bus together.”

“Dude. Why didn’t you fly here?”

“No metas in Gotham!” Danny punches Jason’s shoulder.

“Aw, c’mon! You’re only half-dead! That doesn’t count!”

Dick trails after them, hope slipping away. So much for normal friends–this family is doomed.

[natailiatulls07]

Can you do reader is Lando’s little sister and favourite but they barely see each other cause reader is at boarding school and she surprises him at the race. Also cameo of some other drivers too please.

Lando Norris x sister!reader

Summary - Request above xo

Warning - Like one swear one

-

During her last year of primary education, Cisca and Adam both sat their youngest child down and discussed the possibility of boarding school. 

Both knew it would be hard for the whole family to separate. Yet they both also knew that it would make their lives a lot easier. 

With Landos up and coming career in motorsport racing and the rest of their children's careers also slowly building up, neither parent wanted to deprive or abandon Y/n. So with her agreement, they enrolled her into a well reviewed and well known boarding school a few miles out of Bristol. 

Laurence Crawford Boarding.

The first few days, of course she was homesick. Missing Lando more than anyone else in the family. Of course. But eventually Y/n made friends and was becoming more and more independent by the day.

-

“Hey Mum!” The young girl giggled down the phone. She was in her shared dorm with a few friends when Cisca called. “Annie! No stop! Ew!” 

Cisca took note of her daughter's divided attention, taking an easy guess that she was hanging out with a few friends. “Hi sweetheart, am I calling at a bad time?” Even though neither could see each other, she had a warm and proud smile on her face just thinking about how far Y/n has come.

The innocent giggle down the phone grew quieter and quieter. Y/n was walking away from her friends. “Sorry mum, yeah I can talk. We were just having a games night in my dorm…” Ciscas heart just warmed, happy that her youngest child was growing up and maturing.

“Oh no worries, go and hang out with your friends! Have fun!” And with a couple goodbyes and a ‘I love you’ between the two, Y/n was back hanging out with her friends. 

-

Unlike her younger years of boarding, Y/n hadn’t been home from school on the weekend in a long while. She couldn’t; especially with her exams quickly approaching, she was in her dorm studying and revising most  weekends.

This meant the youngest Norris hadn’t seen her family in a few weeks. Of course she had spoken to them but hadn’t been home since the end of January, and they all understood why. It was harder for some to swallow that pill - well harder for one person particularly e.g Lando.

The Silverstone grand-prix was just around the corner and all he wanted was for his youngest sister to be there. Yeah it was selfish but he missed her, to be far the last time the two saw each other was early January. He missed her so much.

“Are you sure you can’t just take the exam early and then come and support me?” His rough voice rang through Y/n's phone whilst she was highlighting her revision. Lando wasn’t even trying to hide his annoyance.

A gentle laugh followed by a sigh was heard from Y/ns side of the call. “I’m sorry Lan…I can’t ask them to move the exam, it’s against the rules of the exam board…”

She didn’t have an exam that week actually, she was lying. Y/n was going to be in Silverstone that sunday. It’s just that Lando didn’t know, oh no it was a surprise.

What he thought was happening was that everyone else from his immediate family would be there, except Y/n. 

Everyone was in on the surprise. All excited to see the pair reunited. Surprises were always one of the things the Norris family loved to do.

-

Y/n - Good luck today! I’ll be juggling revision and watching the race, I hope to hear our national anthem pleaseee  Lando - Thank you angel, don’t wear yourself out Y/n - I should tell you the same thing

Lando thought she’d be tucked away in her dorm room whilst they were texting back and forth. A vast contrast to her current location; in the passenger seat of Oliver's car. The sun was shining through the windshield and down over her bare knees.

Y/n was wearing a white summer dress, some comfortable trainers and her signed mclaren 4 cap. Looking ready to spend the day in the British summer sun supporting one of her older brothers. 

She was smirking. He really had no clue about this. “Okay so he thinks I’m still at school, oh my god I can’t wait!” 

With her gcses, Y/n hadn’t been to a race in a long time and she missed it; watching from her dorm was not the same. In her dorm, she didn’t get that real excitement that would course through her like it would in the McLaren garage.

Looking over to Oliver, he was also smirking. Just remembering how he had to deal with Landos sulking and the clear signs that Y/n was by far his favorite. “Yeah he’s gonna be so happy when he sees you!”

-

Once they arrived, Y/n was quietly escorted through the back way to the McLaren garage. They couldn’t have the press ruining the surprise. Luckily for Y/n, her spot in the garage couldn’t be seen from anywhere Lando would be.

She stood between her parents whilst her other three siblings stood on either side Cisca and Adam. “I’m so excited!” When she was handed her headset, the girl got even more excited because she could hear her brother's voice through the radio. 

He had yet to win his first grand prix and she hoped he would get to that top step of the podium, especially at his home race. And hopefully without him knowing she is here, he will focus on that exact outcome. 

-

It was a hard race, lots of action and stress. Something Y/n liked, she hated a boring race - this sport was about racing, not riding cars in the same positions in several circles. But the most important thing to note from this race was the number four McLaren parked in front of the number one place in Parc Ferme.

The papaya garage was very much in celebrations, including the Norris family. Turning to face her mother with tears in her eyes, she noticed how Cisca also had tears in her eyes. “He did! He did!”

Adam, who is also over the moon with the win, takes her hand and starts to lead her over to the Parc Ferme to surprise the driver. Reaching the Parc Ferme they stand waiting amongst the McLaren staff and up against the barriers.

Lando pulls himself out of the car and makes his way to celebrate with his team. It’s only when he moves to give Adam a hug that he notices his little sister and he gasps. 

“Y/n?” He can’t believe his eyes, he thought she was back in her boarding school revising. 

Immediately the driver breaks from his father's embrace and races to collect Y/n in his arms. The two siblings were laughing and crying together. Finally reunited after a long time, in their opinions. 

After a few seconds, Lando moves to collect her face in his hand gently - trying to see if his eyes are deceiving him, they weren’t. “I thought you had an exam!” He shouts over the cheers around the two of them. 

Y/n just smirks cheekily and shakes her head. “Nope! Surprise!” Soon her smirk turns into a groan when Landos hand moves to mess up her hair, laughing breaking out between them once again. 

Everyone saw. The cameras around Parc Ferme all broadcasting the reuniting of two siblings who just missed each other. “You’re such a little shit!”

Shrugging her shoulders, Y/n smiled. “Everyone was in on it! Our family loves a surprise!” So when Lando turned to look at his father, Adam just nodded - Happy to reunite two of his children.

-

[deadsetobsessions]

A click. The closing and opening of a camera shutter. The whirr of film as it slides across the inner workings of his camera.

Timothy Drake heaved himself off of the concrete roof as soon as the vigilantes left his eyesight. He swaps the film roll, placing the used one inside of the tin with a barely restrained grin. He’d gotten good shots tonight- a confrontation with Harvey Dent, batarangs swooping to cut the new Robin free- and Tim was excited to race back to his dark room in order to develop those candids.

He climbs down the side of the building, the spelunking gear he’d splurged his parents’ money on working wonderfully on Gotham’s stone and concrete buildings.

“Mom, I want to be just like you guys!” He’d said, and his mom agreed to spare no expense for his new hobby. Well, their secretary did, with his parent’s disinterested permission. After all, spelunking is sometimes needed for artifact digs… probably.

Besides, the moment he had brought up Bruce Wayne’s propensity for “spelunking,” his father had immediately sent him more cave scaling stuff in order to “network with the other successful businessmen, Timmy!”

Tim slides away from the alley with full awareness. Even in Bristol, one had to be careful to avoid the multitudes of goons out and about. The Narrows are definitely worse than Bristol and Tim wasn’t about to let his hard work be taken away just like that. As he trudged home- taking a taxi once he was in a slightly more “trustworthy area”- Tim became slightly lost in his thoughts about the identities of Gotham’s vigilantes. Technically there’s only two.

Tim knows there’s three.

Batman.

Robin.

Nightwing.

Bruce Wayne.

Jason Todd.

Dick Grayson.

His sharp mind, now assuaged from the mystery of their identities, worked hard to match the fights he witnessed to the injuries the prolific Wayne family hid the next day.

Timothy Drake thinks he’ll never get bored following his vigilantes.

——

He’s bored. He’s so irrevocably, irredeemably bored.

Tim had been so excited to go, too! Perhaps for different reasons than everyone else because he was here to observe his heroes out of their masks, not for the Annual Wayne Gala that’s the end-all of high society life. As in, if you weren’t invited, that’s the end of your social life. Bruce Wayne held high society in his palms and Tim is only fifty percent sure he knew and/or cared. Regardless, he was prepared to be a pod-son to his parents’ fake good-parents act, and accordingly suffered thirty minutes of cheek-pinching and fake laughs just for the opportunity to see the three Bats in one place.

They’re not here. They won’t be here for another twenty minutes.

Anyways, he’s bored and irritated. Definitely annoyed enough for some bad ideas.

And Tim might not be aware of this fact about himself until much later when he’s more self-aware, but a bored and irritated Tim Drake is bad news for everyone.

He takes after Janet Drake, after all, and Janet Drake is only after Bruce Wayne in influence and cunning.

And his heroes, his beloved heroes, are the targets of his ire tonight. Tim smiles wider, pod-person smile widening to a baring of ravenous teeth incredibly off putting on a nine year old, and immediately changes course towards the delicate jello squares sitting at the buffet table.

The Waynes will be learning the importance of punctuality at their own galas by the time Tim’s done. He swears it. He even has a get out of jail free card!

Just. A small bit of petty revenge.

Tim nabs a bowl full of the jellos, snacking on one as he makes his way to the Wayne family’s most favorite balcony. Everyone knows it’s the one the family members go to when the Gala gets overwhelming. It’s an unspoken rule that no one else may enter it. Tim slips around the blind spots in the cameras.

High society might call someone a bitch in forty different ways, all hidden behind silk smiles and false eyes, but they’d respect the oddest things.

Tim… doesn’t care. He’s been breaking rules since he was seven.

He sets to his task, setting the jello cubes in the places he’d calculated that Jason or Bruce or Dick might step on. Mild revenge, yes, but Tim doesn’t want to bother Alfred too much. The butler had looked a bit tired earlier. Task done, Tim squeezes back into the party and smiles like his life depended on it.

“Brucie!” His dad boomed, and Tim felt his smile widen once more.

“Jack!” Batman’s Brucie personality bounced into the ballroom as the party kicked back up with the host’s presence. “How’ve you been, old chap?”

“The digs have been very fruitful!”

“I see you’ve brought someone with you today! Well, other than your strikingly beautiful wife, of course!”

“This is my son, Timothy!”

“Hello, Timothy. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Oh. My. God. He’s shaking hands with Batman!

“Hi. I’m Timothy Drake.”

“Oh my gosh, Tim!” His mom laughs, fake nails and laugh digging into his shoulders. Oops. Too informal.

“It’s alright.”

“BRUCE!”

Oh my god, it’s ROBIN. Tim’s smile twitches, barely containing his squeals.

“Jaylad? What’s wrong?”

“Someone left jello cubes all over the balcony!”

“What?” Bruce (Brucie, Tim decides is the name of the mask) turns to his parents and excuses himself.

“Mom? I’m going to go network with Bruce Wayne’s son.”

No, he’s not. He’s gonna go watch them lose their minds.

“That’s my boy!” His dad claps him on the shoulder and shoos him off. His mom narrowing her eyes at him but ultimately dismissing him.

Perfect. By the time he gets there, he hears Nightwing- Dick Grayson, oh my god!- asking “O” to figure out who left all those cubes on the floor.

“Drake?” Ah, shit.

“Weren’t we just talking to him earlier, B?”

“Yes, but I haven’t got the slightest idea why he’d leave jello cubes all over the place.”

“Assassination attempt?” Jason asks.

“Whatever it is, it ruined my running shoes!”

“Dick, please, just wash it off or give it to Alfred.”

“Ugh, we can just go ask him.”

“And make a scene?” Jason sounds eager.

“No. Alfred ordered us specifically not to.”

Silence. Tim grins and slips away, making his way through and voiding the cameras as usual.

—-

“Timmy!”

Tim smiles politely at Brucie Wayne while inwardly cheering. His dad looks at him with stars in his eyes and leaves him to work his magic.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” Pod-person smile!

“This is my son, Jason. And this is Dick.”

“Hi. I’m Jason!” He holds out a hand for Tim to shake. Dick smiles at him and Tim thinks he might expire on the Wayne’s ballroom floor.

“Hello,” Tim suppresses his urge to scream excitedly. “I’m Timothy Drake. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Woah, you sound so stiff.”

“Jason!” Brucie Wayne chides. “Anyways, Timmy, you looked like you had something to tell me earlier. Something wrong, kiddo?”

No, no he didn’t. But… they don’t know that he knows their secret. And they don’t know he knows that they don’t know.

Tim acts confused, but then clears up with his expression like he just thought of something.

“Oh! I was wondering why you were late, Mr. Wayne. Did Batman stop you on the way back?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, I know you don’t really like Batman, Mr. Wayne,” Tim cackles inwardly. “But he saves you a lot. Were you stopping crime?”

“I… I’m not Batman.”

“Well, I know that,” Tim huffs. “It’s just weird no one’s seen you and Batman in the same room.” Tim cheerfully ignores the alarm making its way onto the trio’s faces and his dad’s frantic, further away, cut it out motion. “But obviously that’s because Batman’s busy putting on his gear, right?”

“And how do you figure that…?” Dick asks, tense.

“Uh, he always knows when you’re in trouble? He always comes in minutes of you guys getting held hostage. Is his base on the manor grounds? Oh, is it a secret that you’re funding him? Don’t worry! I know how to keep a secret! Can you tell the new Robin that I think he’s the best?” Tim grins cutely up at Batman. Ah, he means Brucie Wayne.

“Sure can, kiddo! Don’t tell anyone else, okay?” Jason swoops in, grinning back Tim.

Eeee!

As he nods, Tim can’t help mentioning the cubes. “Oh, sorry about the cubes! I thought I’d be able to track them with their shoe print if Batman and Robin came to save you guys but I guess that wasn’t going to happen. I’m really sorry!” He uses the “cute duckling” face and Dick visibly melts.

“No problem, Timmy! You should come over to play Clue with us sometime! I think you’d be good at it.”

“Oh! Really?” His words becomes a bit more genuine. “I’ve never played it. My mom and dad aren’t around much so. Um. Would it be okay if we do?”

“This weekend.” Brucie Wayne’s voice suddenly became more firm. “I’ll talk to your parents about it.

—-

As Tim waves the Wayne’s goodbye, he hears from Dick, “You only like him because he said you’re the best.”

And Jason’s reply, “Because he’s got good taste,” made the rest of his night. Not week, because tomorrow, he gets to poke around Wayne manor again!

[f1bordeaux]

The String That Binds Us. (Chapter 1) | ln4, cl16

You fell in love with this sport all because of him. It would be selfish not to thank that boy for his help in getting you here today, even if you both ended on rocky terms. However, after finding yourself in the same paddock as your childhood bestfriend, your mentor, your first true love, and the boy who left you for the bigger picture, you realize that he wants nothing to do with you. So, as fate has it, perhaps you'll end up in the arms of someone else. Or maybe, just maybe, that string that has been tied to the two of you since birth will pull you back into eachothers lives. Warnings : none Pairings : Lando Norris x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader Word Count : 1923 Poetry style | Story style A/n: here, my lovelies, is chapter one. Not proofread srry lolsies. Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

one; y/n. 

There was something about it, something in the early morning rays reflecting off the cherry-red paint that just wiped away all exhaustion previously held in your bones. You were wide awake as you stared at the cars being rolled off the truck and into the garage. It was only five am but the sun had already crept over the horizon well enough to illuminate the sight in front of you. Golds and reds, blacks and yellows all mixed into a work of art nobody else could recreate. This is what you were here for. This is what you were living for.

“Gorgeous, innit’?”

You turned to your left, face to face with two others donning the same uniform as you. The woman who had spoken seemed a bit older than you, but now way had she yet reached her thirties. A man was accompanying her, although his eyes rested not on you, but on the tyres now being rolled out of the truck. He seemed close to her age, his deep-tanned skin a high contrast to hers.

You smiled at her before looking down at your lanyard. It was still so hard to process being here, on a Thursday morning in Bahrain, waiting for the weekend that was about to ensue. You were one of them now. You were an insider, a person that got to see everything on a deeper level. People dreamed of getting here, people worked their whole lives in hopes of getting here and yet here you were, 23 years old and face-to-face with Carlos Sainz’s car. It looked so much better in-person.

“It really is.” You sighed, looking back up. The truck was empty now, they were beginning to close the back door. “I still can't believe I’m here.”

The blonde lady leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of your badge. “Y/n y/ln? You're new, huh?”

You turned to meet her eyes, a large smile on your face. “Yes, I just graduated University.”

“What an amazing first job to have then.” She smiled back. The man beside her now looked at you as he adjusted the ballcap on his head. “I'm Bridgette, but everyone in the garage just calls me Bridge.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” You extended out a hand which she gratefully accepted.

“This is Lorenzo.” Bridgette nodded to the man who offered a toothless smile and his hand. “Enough standing around, we’ve got work to do. Walk with us.”

So you did. The garage wasn’t too far away, just around the corner, but Bridgette loved to talk; that you quickly found out. “Where are you from?” Was her first question.

“Bristol.”

“I hear it’s nice. They’ve got that beautiful river running through it, no?” She asked, looking straight ahead. You just nodded, unsure if she saw your response, but when she kept going you assumed she had. “I’m from Perth. Nothin’ quite like Australia, I must say.” “Isn’t Lando from Bristol?” Lorenzo added. His accent was thick as he spoke.

You nodded again, this time opting to expand on the question. “He is, yeah. We actually grew up together.”

Bridgette turned her head to look at you. “No way! Why didn’t your mate get you a job over at Mclaren?”

A blush coated your cheeks. You didn’t know where it came from, maybe embarrassment, maybe fear, hell, maybe even sadness. Lando wouldn’t have put in a good word for you, not today. Perhaps seven years ago when the two of you were teenagers and on a completely different page, but not now.

“We don't talk like we used to. He was gone a lot but he moved away for good when he was seventeen. He never really looked back, either.” You sighed. An odd sense of pity hung over the three of you. In an attempt to lighten the mood you clapped your hands together and smiled at the two engineers next to you. “But he got me into cars and engineering! So, I owe him a thanks for that.”

Bridgette nodded and pressed her lips into a thin line. “There ya’ go.”

The next few moments were rushed. The three of you entered the garage where people worked on putting everything into place. You were introduced to management and owners, mechanics and bosses. Tyres were being placed on racks, tarps were being placed over backup cars, tool boxes were being passed around. It was thrilling, even if you were just standing on the sidelines watching as it all happened. Soon, however, someone called your name. You were sure it was Bridgette or Lorenzo, but it was someone else. Alessandro, Charles' chief mechanic, was heading straight for you, clipboard in hand.

“Have you been assigned a team yet?”

“No, sir.”

He smiled. “Call me Alessandro. No need for formalities. But anyways,” He looked down at the clipboard then back up at you. “Our front jack guy broke his wrist and I need someone to replace him. Care to run some drills?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. “I would be honored.”

“Awesome.” He nodded over his shoulder. “Let's go get you a suit and helmet, then.”

x

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t get the spot.” Bridgette sipped her coffee. “You absolutely crushed it.”

You blushed, rolling your finger around the rim of your cup. The Ferrari motorhome was gorgeous with its meeting rooms and rooftop balcony, with its relaxation spots and cafe. It really put into perspective where you were and who you were working for.

“Thank you,” You said quietly.

The day had gone by rather quickly. The sun was already setting over the desert and exhaustion clung to your body just as tightly as the uniform you wore. You’d spent hours running drills, practicing the most simple yet vital job-jacking the car up. You did it over and over again, improving with every run. After that you were tasked with doing inventory. Sure, it was a small task, one that didn’t require you to get hands on with the car, but it was still important. You wandered the garage counting tyres, drills, wrenches, going through tool bags and drawers. It helped you get situated in the space, to learn the layout and whereabouts of everything. Once you had finished that, you were offered to help wash Charles’ back up car. You gladly obliged, happy to be finally touching the car at least. You washed the tyres, the halo, the rear wing and a bit of the body before standing back to revel in the beauty of the car. It seemed to shine, even in the dim garage lighting. You felt so fulfilled, so privileged, so at home.

“Alessandro likes to give everyone a shot, he doesn’t discriminate.” Bridgette continued. “Today might have been your lucky break.”

“I’d be happy even being a back-up jack, honestly. Just wearing the fire suit and helmet makes me feel all,” you paused looking for the right word to describe it. “Giddy.”

“Well,” Lorenzo began, setting his phone face down on the table. “He needs to pick tonight so we can have that person participate in tomorrow's practice. You should know if you got it first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Guess I’ll be tossing and turning all night, then.” You joked.

A small laugh cluttered the table. It was getting late, the track becoming more and more empty with each passing moment. The motorhome was silent, save for the three of you lingering around. “We should go grab the last shuttle to the hotel,” Bridgette stood, taking one last swig from her cup before tossing it into a bin. “Are the two of you coming?”

Lorenzo stood up, as did you. “I left my bag in the lockers. I can wait for the next one if you both would like to go.”

“It’s ok,” he said. “We can wait for you at the front gate.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be quick.”

You jogged through the paddock, grateful that the heat had subsided. Lights poured out of each garage, illuminating pit lane in a way the sun hadn't. The sun, harsh and bright, brought a form of intimidation onto the pavement. The lights however, soft and orange, seemed to bring peace. It was a gentle reminder that at the end of the day, everything would be alright.

You dodged into the Ferrari garage, running to the back lockers to retrieve your backpack. Although your head was almost completely submerged in the metal box, you could hear faint-chatter? You leaned back, wondering if Bridgette and Lorenzo had come to find you. No, it didn’t sound like them. The voice sounded much more familiar. It was like listening to one of your favorite songs after a long while.

Lando paused at the entrance of the garage. His phone was pressed into his ear. He stared at you, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed. Did he know it was you? Could he see you? Did he even remember what you looked like?

You swung your bag over your shoulders and closed the locker. As you approached, Lando lifted his brows, erasing the confused look on his face. He surely could see you now.

“Hey, I gotta call you back.” He sighed. “Yeah, everything is good. See you tomorrow.”

A few feet separated you and him. You debated on starting conversation, on asking how he’s been. But you decide just to nod and walk past him. That is your plan until he stops you.

“Y/n?”

You pressed your lips together in a flat smile. “Hey, Lando.”

He looked you up and down. You were uncertain if he found your Ferrari uniform insulting or fitting. What if you were wearing papaya? What if you were sporting  orange instead of red? Would he be looking at you in the same way?

“So you really did make it, huh?” Lando crossed his arms over his chest, smirking as you avoided eye contact.

“I suppose so.”

“Have they assigned you a driver?”

You looked up for the first time since your conversation began. A bit of pride swelled in your chest as you said, matter-of-factly, “Yeah, Charles Leclerc.”

He blinked hard, shocked that you landed not only a job with the most infamous F1 team, but on their star drivers car. Maybe you were better than you let on. Maybe it was more luck. But deep down Lando knew how good you were. He was able to experience it first hand as a kid.

“Wow. Most people remain without a designated driver for their first year. They kinda’ just float around doing all the dirty work. At least, that's how it is at Mclaren.”

“Right.” You gripped your backpack straps like a kid. “Good thing I'm not over there, then.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you fell quiet, only the sound of nearby passing cars and people walking by filled the air. To any bypasser this surely looked sketchy. Lando Norris, Mclarens golden boy, and a new engineer for an opposing team, just staring at one another. How odd.

You broke the silence first saying, “Well I’ve gotta’ go. I have some friends waiting for me to catch the shuttle.”

Lando just nodded, staring at the ground as you walked by. As you passed Carlos’ garage, he called out, “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

You could barely hear it with the way he spoke so quietly. But you stopped, turning your head and offering a real, genuine smile. “Yeah,” You breathed out.

He smiled back. “Good luck.”

[ilexdiapason]

(part one here)

Martyn, as it turns out, only has three phone numbers memorised.

One of them is his own. The second is his mother’s, which he tries, and receives the unfortunate information that the number has been disconnected and leads nowhere.

He finally has some luck with the third, the landline phone number of his house - while nobody picks this up, either, it does connect to somewhere at least. Martyn is able to leave a voicemail explaining that he’s out of the situation he was in that meant he couldn’t come home, and that he’ll be there by tonight.

“Where’s there?” Oli asks, kind of hoping Martyn won’t need a lift to Bristol or anything out of the way like that.

“Nottingham,” Martyn replies, guarded.

Oh - that’s not so bad, then. “I can give you a lift down, if you need?”

“Aren’t you busy?”

“Oh, no.” Oli’s remote working today; as long as he keeps an eye on his emails, nobody should even notice he’s gone, and if he can always call in a family emergency if Martyn does take him up on the offer to drive. It is a family emergency, after all, it seems - just not Oli’s family.

Martyn perks up at the response, though. “Oh, I getcha. Job market, eh?” He makes a cutting motion across his throat, with noise to match.

“No, I’ve got a job! A pretty good one, actually. That’s why I can afford living on my own.”

“Ah.” A silence, and then Martyn flicks the phone back on in his hands. “Oh, god. December 2023?”

“... Yes?” Why did you not know what month it was? Or, from the sounds of it, what year?

“God, my mum’s gonna be out of her wits, that’s awful.” He flicks at the screen - then, sheepish, asks, “What’s your passcode?”

“Here, I’ll -” Oli takes it out of his hands, taps in the shape of a circle “- what d’you want?”

“Oh, I was just gonna google myself.”

Oli pulls up Google. Waits, expectantly.

“Er - Martyn Littlewood.”

And oh, jesus, yeah, that’s a missing persons case. Last seen April 2021, no wonder he was bloody worried about the year, suspect investigated but no proof identified, case well and truly cold.

Martyn must see it in his face the way he’s started, because he grimaces. “That bad?”

“About what you’d expect,” says Oli, turning the phone around to face Martyn. He snatches it, which is unexpected but honestly not out of character for the stuff he remembers from Martyn in-game.

Wait.

“Hold on - how were you getting on SMPs with us lot if you were… whatever you were?”

Martyn grimaces harder. “Long story. Difficult, too. Let’s just say there’s a lotta people who I last saw lunging for my neck, and they’re not gonna stop because I’m here.”

“Are you a wanted man? Do I need to barricade the doors, close the blinds, what?”

“Nah, nah - just keep me away from your computer.” He pauses again to consider that. “Actually. If you’re here, does that mean everyone else is too?”

“What, the other people on the server? Well, they’re not here, but I could message people if you want, say you’ve… I don’t know, turned up at Sainsbury’s?”

“I’m an ASDA man myself,” Martyn cracks, and then frowns at the screen. “So can I go on your Discord? I won’t send anything. I just want to know.”

“Erm - sure.”

He taps through, immediately lights up. “Scott!”

Ah, yeah, he had been DMing Scott this morning. Something about axolotls, if he’s not mistaken. “Yeah! He’s all the way in Brighton, though, I don’t know if I could swing that much of a lift.”

“And Bek. And Eloise, and - oh my god, I need to know what Sausage’s real name is.”

“I’ve never asked.”

“You just call him Sausage, all the time?”

“S’funny, innit?”

Martyn nods solemnly. “It is funny.”

He sits like that for a while, scrolling through Oli’s DM history, muttering names under his breath. “I mean,” says Oli, “we can add you, if you like.”

“God. Yeah, you prob’ly can. Let me try it.”

A few seconds later, and Martyn’s handing back the phone to Oli with a pending friend request to InTheLittleWood in tow. “Don’t know why you didn’t offer that before, if you’re so excited.”

“Couldn’t,” Martyn says nonchalantly.

“Right, and does that have something to do with this missing persons case of yours?”

His face falls. “Yeah, actually. Something like that.”

“Ah.”

They decide to wait until either his mum calls Oli back or Oli is officially clocked out of work to get back in the car. Until then, it seems like it’s time for Oli to get Martyn up to speed on the last… two and a half years, good lord, that’s a while…

(part three here)

[piqu3d]

gambler's prayer

Dick sees Jason everywhere he looks, in every kid he pulls out of a fight, every child he has to hand to the foster system— but when he blinks, reality returns. Logically he’s known that Jason's gone, but three years later he’s still coming to a place of fragile acceptance.

It all unravels when Dick's at J-Mart for a bottle of tylenol at two in the morning and the cashier is wearing Jason's face, eyes green as jade.

Read under the cut, or on ao3.

The flickering, fluorescent overhead light makes the headache building a nest in Dick’s forehead cry out with indignation. The light is bathing the entire J-mart in a sickly green light, forcing everyone inside to squint to see. Dick rubs the pressure point next to his eyebrow as the dude in line in front of him slips two more packs of cigarettes into the large, cavernous pockets of his cargo pants. Gothamites steal to live, sometimes, but this kid is buying six bags of lifesavers and paying with a hundred dollar bill at two in the morning. Dick turns a blind eye when people steal food, even if Bruce probably wouldn’t, but he knows what it’s like to starve. This kid’s just doing it for the thrill.

He takes another pack. It’s comically easy. The cashier, eyes dipped low under the brim of the green J-mart cap, doesn’t say a thing; probably doesn’t even notice. It’s the graveyard shift in one of the most dangerous areas of Gotham. Dick would’ve stopped paying attention a while ago too. There’s a smear of dried blood on the linoleum floor.

Dick sighs, leaning into his left hip. His headache and his morality clash for a moment, and his heart wins out. “Come on, man,” he says. “You took like, six.”

The kid startles and turns to shoot Dick a glare. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“I saw it, just-“

The cashier hands back the change, and the kid snatches it and takes off. Dick lets him off without saying anything else, but watches him clamber into a truck outside, void of license plates. 

The cashier’s pale, thin hand remains outstretched for a moment before he retracts it. 

Dick puts his bottle of Tylenol on the conveyor. “Just that.” He always has some painkillers with him normally, but he was driving in from Blud when he realized he didn’t have any, and a tiny 24 hour J-mart on the edge of Gotham seemed better than waiting until he was all the way in Bristol. This is what he gets for waiting until the last possible second to drive to the manor for the holidays. 

Dick looks at the peeling ad plastered onto the credit card reader. 2-for-1 7-up with a purchase of pepper spray.

“6.68,” the cashier says quietly. 

Dick fishes out his card and sticks it in.

“It errored. Try again?”

Dick pulls it out and waits a few seconds. He tries not to let exasperation eat away at his patience. There’s nobody behind him in the line. Actually, the J-mart’s practically empty. 

At the green beep, he presses his card back in. It errors again.

“Sorry, it gets finicky.” 

“Can I just take one of these right now? I swear I’ll pay for them, I just-“

“Yeah, yeah,” the kid says absently. Something’s familiar in the tone, tugging at something in Dick’s memories that he can’t pinpoint. The cashier rounds the kiosk and fiddles with the reader while Dick turns and wrenches open the lid of the Tylenol. He dry-swallows one of them, and then after a moment of consideration, takes one more. When he turns back, Dick catches a good look at the cashier’s profile as he resets the reader.

His breath is wrenched out from his lungs.

The thing is, Jason's been dead for years. Dick still sees him everywhere he looks, in every kid he pulls out of a fight, every child he has to hand to the foster system-- but when he blinks twice, reality returns. He knows that Jason's gone, and after three long years, he's finally coming to a place of fragile acceptance.

All of it is coming undone in the seconds it takes to stare at Jason Todd in a J-Mart uniform, thin and pale. His adam’s apple bobs as he frowns. ���I think it just needs a minute. You can honestly just take it,” he says, looking up at Dick. A familiar scar curls around his chin, under a faint shadow of facial hair.

Dick thinks he might need the support of the kiosk to stand. “What’s your name?”

The kid stares at him. He’s got a name tag, but Dick can barely see under the dim fluorescent-green lights, much less with his blurring vision. 

“I said you can go,” he says hesitantly.

“Please-“

“Jason?” he answers quietly. “What-“

“Fuck,” Dick says, and his knees are buckling, he’s gripping the magazine rack like he’s losing his mind. And maybe he is, because he looks at a stranger and all he sees is his little brother. “Do you—Jason?”

“Do you need me to call 911?”

“No, no, I don’t… think so,” Dick breathes, rubbing his eyes. He’s scaring the cash— He’s scaring Jason. “You don’t remember me?”

Jason (Jason, Jason, Jason) goes still. “Should I?”

“I’m your— well, this is going to sound crazy,” Dick says, holding onto some thin strand of reality in this dream of a J-Mart in the middle of the night in December.

“Yeah,” Jason whispers. “It sounds crazy. But everything’s been insane for as long as I can remember. I don’t remember you; I don’t remember anything.”

“Three years ago,” Dick says abruptly, because the words are squeezing a vice around his chest. “Jason passed away. I watched his coffin go into the ground.”

Jason’s jaw flexed. “I… woke up in a home for addicts. I don’t remember anything from before that. Even everything since then has been… hazy, but…” His eyes go hard. “You manipulating me?”

“What? No, I would never.”

“Plenty of people’ve told me that they’ve known me, tryna get me to go home with them.”

“Jesus.” Dick is going to be sick. Hope shoots up like a weed, wiggling between the gaps in his brick-and-mortar shields. “There’s a scar on your right shoulder that goes down into your ribcage. Looks like a big bite mark. You got it from Killer Croc when you were fourteen.”

“Shit, man,” Jason says immediately, but it’s thin. “What’s my last name?”

“That wouldn’t prove anything to you, anybody could know that— oh.” Dick looks at his little brother’s green eyes. Jason isn’t testing him. He’s asking him. “It’s Todd.”

“Jason Todd,” Jason says, forming his lips with a furrowed brow.

“I’m your brother. Your older brother.”

Jason pauses, looks at Dick’s face and narrows his eyes. “That’s a stretch.”

“Adopted,” Dick adds. “Bruce-“ (Oh shit, Bruce) “Bruce Wayne adopted us.”

Jason’s eyes go wide like marbles. “No shit. The billionaire?”

“The billionaire,” Dick echoes. “He— we both thought you were dead.”

“Oh,” Jason says, strangled. “Okay.” Something’s odd about his voice— it’s missing a certain inflection, but that could just be lingering trauma from waking up to a world you don’t know.

“Come with me,” Dick says, and it sounds like a request but no matter what he isn’t leaving without Jason in tow.

Jason tenses and stammers, “But— I— I’m on shift ‘till five.”

“You don’t need the job. You’re the kid of a billionaire, remember?” Dick says, as lightly as he can manage.

Jason hesitates. “This isn’t a joke?” He asks quietly. His tone is raw, afraid.  “I’m gonna lose my job if I just leave. I’ll lose everything.”

“I swear to god, Jason. You’ve been wondering what you lost before you woke up, right?”

Jason nods.

“It was a family. And we’re still here,” he says.

Jason bites his lip unconsciously. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, but if you pull anything weird, man, I’m going to punch you and run.”

“Great plan,” Dick says absently, already thinking about the best way to handle bringing him home.

Bringing Jason home.

He can’t just pop up with Bruce’s dead son and say ‘surprise.’ He also needs to test Jason’s DNA— because despite the joy roaring in his blood, there’s still a current of distrust and justified disbelief.

Is it so difficult to think that maybe, for once in their goddamned lives, they received a miracle instead of a tragedy?

He pockets the Tylenol with numb fingers and follows Jason out the door. Jason’s got a backpack with him now, ratty and abused. Dick doesn’t step out of the J-Mart until Jason’s cleared the doorway. He can’t let his little brother out of sight.

The bell to the door jingles as it shuts behind them. The light continues to flicked on the other side of the glass. Outside, the polluted night sky suffocates any sources of light.

Jason reaches in and flips the sign to closed, then locks the door. His slender hands are trembling as he handles the keys, and Dick doesn’t let himself think about how little food he’s been getting living off of minimum wage.

“Do you have a car here?”

Jason blinks up at him. “No.”

“How did you get here?”

His already wan complexion pales. “The owner lets me sleep in the back for workin’.” He looks at Dick like he’s going to judge him for it.

Dick processes this. Swallows. Thinks about his words carefully. “I am very, very proud of you for surviving.”

“Wasn’t intentional, I mean, I don’t even remember the dying part,” Jason says.

“For three years. On your own. In Gotham. No memory. I’m proud of you,” Dick tells him again.

Jason looks at him like he’s insane. “Thanks,” he says, and it’s the tone of his voice that tells Dick he heard him. Good.

“Okay,” Dick says, gently clapping a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. If it weren’t for the change in height and the flinch, the moment could be three years ago. “It’s going to be okay.”

Nothing else matters. If this is Jason (and it is! It must be!) then no matter what, they’ll be okay.

As Dick pulls out of the parking lot, his hands tremble against the wheel.

In the passenger seat, Jason looks out the window, his hands sitting limply in his lap. The J-Mart cap sits on his head, strangely grounding.

The roads in this area of Gotham are unlit and grimy, but the night yawns into darkness ahead of them like a hopeful unknown. Dick grips the wheel, Jason next to him, and hopes this drive, this moment, this dream, never ends.

[onepagelovestories]

I made a discovery/theory that I thought I might share in case it's of use or interest to anyone else!

How big is Valisthea?

TL;DR - It's just Scotland, Cymru (Wales), Ireland, and England but flipped upside-down and photo bashed a bit.

These are just purely my observations, so I'm throwing them into the void!

So, for fan fiction purposes (and just general peace of mind), I really wanted to figure out exactly how big the twins were, considering how insanely quick everyone moves around. This is obviously true for video games in general but I felt it a lot more in FFXVI than other comparable games imo.

There's not a ton to go off of, just some throwaway dialogue lines here and there that give you the general sense that you can move from one location to the next in a day or two primarily by foot (chocobos are a whole other side tangent, as is the Enterprise or whatever the hell Dominants are capable of).

Some of those specific references include;

The trip from Rosalith to Pheonix Gate and back taking an expected 5 days total (with Clive, Tyler, and Wade arriving that night despite the detour through the marshes),

The boat ride from Port Isolde to Drake's Breath taking 3 days,

Someone from the hideaway referencing that they leave for Lostwing each day for work. (Couldn't find the exact example don't quote me on that one.)

Twinsides/Origin being "Hundreds of Leagues" away from The Hideaway

There's probably a few others, but most of the other examples I could find were open to interpretation, merely implying that travel took place in the same day but could be interpreted to have been spread out over longer were it not for 'video game logic and scale'.

That being said, I like things being a little more grounded for head canon purposes and wanted to know how much down time was reasonable in and between trips back and forth.

In general, I feel like the game should have been spread out over the full 5 years. But understanding game development limits, I get why that'd have been a nightmare! So the time skip makes sense practically, and I just choose to headcanon that events are a little more spread out. (Like them taking the full year in 873, from Clive and Jills rescue to destroying Drakes Head, rather than a couple of weeks like it seems in game.)

Shout out to this reddit post for doing an awesome estimate based on an average measure of the aforementioned "hundreds of leagues" quote. This was my starting point.

They concluded that Valisthea was likely closer in size to India or Australia, which I like a lot in terms of Valisthea being a full-scale continent. However, it does mess with the timeline a lot.

Also, I'm from a large country so my sense of what is a "reasonable" distance is pretty thrown off compared to a lot of other places. A 2-5 hour (200-400km) car ride to another city is nothing in my head until you realize that distance would take 1-4 weeks to walk or even ride (Horse metrics. Again chocobos are weird and probably a bit faster due to being all terrain and more robust than horses but are also birds so I don't know what endurance levels carrying heavy loads would be like).

Soooo, I began looking for European contemporaries since the game is very eurocentric (and all the criticisms that come with that).

Which led me to the realization that Valisthea is literally just the UK and Ireland, but flipped.

Now. Am I 100% certain this is what the devs did? Of course not. Is it so damn close that I'm 99.9% certain? Yes. Storm is Britain, and Cymru. The Northern Kingdom and the Iron Kingdom are Scotland but broken up. And Ash is Ireland and Northern Ireland.

Major cities or points of interest all have approximate real-world contemporaries and even follow geographical features on the map in that there are matching rivers, topography and even highways.

The biggest giveaway to me was Pheonix Gate just literally being London, as well as Norvant Valley matching exactly in shape with an upside down Bristol Channel (which would put Caer Norvent in Swansea). Even The Greatwood lines up relative to a major national park (forgive me UK peeps, it's hard to tell from a map alone if that's all one giant forest or several parks smooshed together).

So, if we're working off that assessment, with the quote from Tomes where he mentions that Valisthea is a small continent, then the time/distance ratio makes a lot more sense!

Of course, by our world standards – the UK alone does not a continent make.

But I'm honestly ok with that? I'd rather the land mass be small to match the timeline rather than warp the timeline to match the land mass.

So, here's a list of some of my estimated real-world contemporaries for all major landmarks on the Valisthean Map. Of course, they don't line up 1-1, and are not at all reflective of the locations themselves. It's all just for a relative sense of scale.

Rosaria;

Martha's Rest - Oxford

Eastpool - Reading

Pheonix Gate - London

Rosalith - Cambridge

Port Isolde - Peterborough (ignoring that it's not on the coast)

Deadlands

Cid's Hideaway - Stratford-Upon-Avon

Clive's Hideaway - Birmingham

Sanbreque;

Lostwing - Tauton

Caer Norvent - Swansea

Northreach - Exeter

Oriflamme - Kingsbridge

Kingsfall - Salisbury

Dhalmekian Republic;

Kostnice - Leicester

Drake's Fang - Sheffield

Dhalamil - Derby

Dravozd - Wolverhampton

Tabor - Shrewsbury

Boklad - Lampeter

Ran'Dallah- Tregaron

Waloed;

Shadow Coast - Belfast

Eistla - Kinnegad

Edge of Infinity - Westport

Ravenwit Walls - Wenagh

Stonhyrr - Cork

Other;

Twinsides - Fishguard

Kanvar - Chester

Drake's Breath - Ipswich

Dzemekys - Aberystwyth

Going off of those locations, I was able to get the rough time/distance of certain trips (using google maps metrics in pure walking hours not how long it took them because of *variables*)

Routes;

Rosalith to Pheonix Gate: 86km, 20hrs

Hideaway to Pheonix Gate: 172km, 39hrs (to Martha's Rest: 67km, 15hrs; +Eastpool: 41km, 9hrs; then to Pheonix Gate: 64km, 15hrs)

Hideaway to Oriflamme: 295km, 68hrs (Hideaway to Lostwing: 184km, 43hrs. What shortcut Cid?? +Northreach: 48km, 11hrs; +Oriflamme: 63km, 14hrs)

Lostwing to Caer Norvent: 199km, 46hrs (Benedika and Co were at that fort for days, not hours. Also, how hard did Cid knock Clive out if it took more than a week to get back to the Hideaway after the Garuda Fight?)

Shadow Coast to Stonhyrr: 755km, 171hrs. (Shadow Coast to Eistla: 169km, 38hrs; +Edge of Infinity and back: 181km, 41hrs x2; +Stonhyrr: 224km, 51hrs) meaning crew were gone in Waleod for WEEKS.)

So, all in all a bit longer than in seems in game but still well within range given that they probably shaved off arbitrary travel days for narrative flow.

That being said, I love the potential of more "down time" moments. And it really shows just how often/long everyone would be gone from the Hideaway at any given moment.

It puts into perspective Gav's side quest, "You keep sending me wherever you need to, I'll keep going. Safe in the knowledge that I'll have a home to come back to." And how they all remark that they never seen each other, or how much their trips away together were really meaningful.

(Also kinda excuses the fact it took Clive and Jill 5 freaking years to get together. They were too busy walking everywhere!)

Is it possible to just pop down to Martha's for a quick supply run? Yes. But unless you're on a chocobo, you're camping out at Three Reeds then staying the night at the Inn before heading back. It's more of a 4-7 day trip rather than an afternoon and back.

Anyhow, I hope this all makes sense!

Now, time to go write about Clive/Cid camping overnight in the Greatwood together on Clive's first real night of freedom. 😭😭😭

[wereallbooked]

Our January Wrap Ups!

In January, M read 17 books (everyone say thank you throne of glass) and H read 12! We read books like Onyx Storm, The Courting of Bristol Keats, Spark of the Everflame, The Ministry of Time, and Love, Theoretically.

Our Thoughts below the cut: (spoiler free until the very end, and only minor spoilers there!)

H’s reads:

The Courting of Bristol Keats by Mary E. Pearson: For some reason, the first 100-or so pages of this book felt WEIRD to me. I can't quite put my finger on why, but it was one of those reads where enough is off to make you hyper-vigilant about everything else in the book, and it killed my vibe...until we entered the second act. THEN, it ate and left almost no crumbs. (maybe 2 crumbs?) I really loved Tyghan. I REALLY loved Tyghan's connection to Bristol's lore (iykyk) and I thought the use of dual POV here was an excellent way to differentiate it from the romantasy market at large. 3.75⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Cruel Winter With You by Ali Hazelwood (M also read this, but she didn't want to count it. I am all about that Goodreads challenge): I don't know why, but I spent this entire read picturing Liam Mairi from Fourth Wing as the MMC, which probably added at least a star to my rating. Oops? I know a lot of people thought this man was creepy for his little photography habit, and I think in real life I would also be bothered. However, he is a man written by Ali Hazelwood, soooooooooo. 4⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Flawless by Elsie Silver: When I read this bad boy, it was baby's first cowboy romance! M actually gave this to me for Christmas because I made one too many "we should try a cowboy romance" jokes. While reading, I alternated between intense joy and wondering who Rhett voted for. I think the fact that he was Canadian helped. A little. As I have gone on to read more from this series, however, the things that bothered me about Rhett are only intensified by reading about his brothers (latent misogyny, anyone? a smidge? a hint?). I DID have fun, though, which is what matters in a book like this. I was a big fan of the whipped cream shenanigans. I am also a milk hater, so that didn't bother me too much. 3.75⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hopeless by Elsie Silver: Here's my beef with this one: If you promise me a book about a virgin with a big age gap, I expect a book about a virgin with a big age gap. I feel like Elsie could have committed to the bit a bit more? She gave Bailey a funny mix of sexual promiscuity and innocence, which is FINE, but wasn't what I was expecting. Further, she seemed to shy away from the age gap a bit by making Bailey more "mature". I felt like she could have just....not? If you pick up the fourteen year age gap romance book and get offended by the fourteen year age gap...that's on you. I don't think THAT's the audience Elsie needed to cater to here, but that's just me. 2.75 ⭐️⭐️

Andromeda by Therese Bohman: I contain multitudes! The first half of this novel was really lovely. I really enjoyed the FMC’s (I believe her name is sophie? but we find that out on page 100 or something) voice and description of things. It felt almost Sally Rooney esque, and I am a huge Sally Rooney fan. And then, we got to Gunnar’s POV. I didn’t vibe with Gunnar. I probably should have anticipated this. There are few old men I do vibe with. However, Gunnar killed the novel for me. I got this from BOTM, and they advertised it as exploring themes of modernity. It DOES do this, however, the novels view on modernity and my view on modernity do not mesh. 3 ⭐️⭐️⭐️

The Favorites by Layne Fargo: This was my other BOTM pick this month! Again, I really liked the first half. It’s a Wuthering Heights retelling and the first half is much more loyal to the original story. The feeling of knowing tragedy is at the door but not being able to break through the pages and warn the characters was awful. I recommend! However, the late second and third acts diverge from the original novel, and in order to do so, fundamentally alter Heath (Heathcliff)’s character. This is all to say, I wish Heath was a worse guy overall. I get WHY he isn’t, though, especially after looking into Fargo’s backlog after finishing. Still, I was really disappointed with the novel’s end. 3 ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Homeseeking by Karissa Chen: I really put off starting this one because I was intimidated by it. I don’t know WHY I was intimidated, but it was my BOTM pick for December, and then I let it languish on my shelves for weeks. I should NOT have waited!! It was a beautiful story with beautiful prose. I loved the excavations of Chinese history, the elevation of lesser known consequences of the Cultural Revolution, and the examination of the Chinese-American identity. GREAT stuff. 4 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros: This was my THIRD read. Originally, I gave fourth wing 4 stars, then 4.5 on my first re read, but this read pushed it back down to 4. The Empyrean series is my current fixation. I had no choice in the matter. My main blog is a fourth wing fanfiction blog. Violet and Xaden are verrrryyy important to me. However, the prose in fourth wing is so incredibly clunky. I get terminal red pen brain when reading. I thought a LOT about V and X’s chemistry while reading this time around (for fic reasons, LOL) and their big moments in the first half of the story arc didn’t eat like usual. The insta-lust wasn’t as bad as I remember it being, but then Violet didn’t really seem like she liked him ?? as much as usual anyway. HOWEVER, the second half of the book is where I USUALLY gripe about their development (re: all the actual relationship building happening off screen, what do they talk about, does xaden have a hobby) and on this read I actually caught a lot more of the minor references that show them falling in love! Casualty of the chaotic prose: it’s hard to catch a lot of the one-line mentions. 4 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros: This book is my baby and I love her. She’s the only girl in the world to me. I heard Lexi on Fantasy Fangirls describe Iron Flame as a transition book, and at first, I didn’t agree with this assessment. However, when I thought about it further, I think that’s why I love it so much. When I first read IF, my life was in a transitory period, and I also felt like my whole world had been turned upside down. A lot of people say X and V are annoying here. I, again, disagree. I raise you this: they’re just like me for real. Both of them and the way they react to things are EXACTLY what I would do. Maybe this is problematic, but I do NOT care. The problems I have with FW do all still exist in this one, but they don’t bother me. I don’t have red pen brain here. 6 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Onyx Storm by Rebecca Yarros (read twice. in a row. back to back.): This is our book club read, so we’ll have a separate post for her! However, I will say that my first read was NOT great. I care about these books (see reviews 8 and 9, LMAO) and I was wayyyy too invested in certain theories going the way I wanted (re: Halden and Xaden, specifically). I was so anxious that Xaden was going to do something drastic based on the way he was acting that the entire first read was a 12 hour anxiety attack. I originally rated the book 4 stars, and then, I was minding my own business a few hours after finishing. The ending crossed my mind, and I burst into tears. Repeatedly. At length. So then, I made it a 5 star! On my re read, I was experienced a LOT more of that five star feeling, until the last 100 pages or so when I once again succumbed to dread. A lot of the popular critiques of this book aren’t things I “agree” with. I didn’t expect “good” world building after books one and two, for example. The prose is what it is. But! More on that later. 5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Love, Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood: Ali’s best work? Dare I say? I ADORED this. Elsie is so me coded it felt like Dr. Hazelwood was in my walls. I LOVED how Jack handled her issues. I really enjoyed the sex. Ali is always so freaking funny. This has me cackling. This has me crying. Incredible. 5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

M’s reads:

*spoiler free until the end*

1. Kindred's Curse Saga

- Spark of the Everflame ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

- Glow of the Everflame ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

- Heat of the Everflame ⭐️⭐️

honestly was really excited to read this series bc i wanted to listen to ffg deep dives. i liked the first book well enough and i really liked the premise that the main character is a healer. the second book was good too i thought, and i was really propelled through the series because each book ends on a massive cliffhanger and i couldn't stand it. but then by the third book idk it all became too much - too much going on - too many bad decisions made by the fmc.

2. ACOSF ⭐️⭐️⭐️

love love the series but this was probably my least favorite book out of them all. it felt too long and honestly they fucked too much for me girl pls 😭😭😭 loved the sisterhood developed with nesta, gywn, and emerie and also her own sisters. as per my goodreads 3 stars for the plot and 5 for the sisterhood

3. A Novel Love Story by Ashley Poston ⭐️⭐️⭐️

really wanted to like this one because who doesn't like a book written about a book? but i just couldn't vibe with the fmc and mmc and i couldn't with how it ended.

4. Ready or Not by Cara Bastone ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

okay actually kinda throughly enjoyed this one and it was really fun and super sweet. loved the mmc and the overall nyc vibes. every character was quirky and unique and the situation was kinda insane which i lived for. i would read this again for a spark of joy.

5. All of TOG ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

no words. best series i've ever read idk why i didn't read tog sooner i was so missing out. every book was good in its own way. you didn't ask but here is my ranking of books in the series.

heir of fire

kingdom of ash

throne of glass

crown of midnight

empire of storms

assassins blade

tower of dawn

queen of shadows

*i have more comments on this series in the spoilers section*

6. Onyx Storm ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

most anticipated read fr. enjoyed it. loved the world building and xaden and violet in this. violet was truly girlbossing it up. ALSO loved ridoc in this he has my whole heart. I feel like we got to love all the side characters a bit more here so that made my soul happy. not sure where to rank it in terms of fourth wing and iron flame. i feel like i should have reread fw and if before this but i was too busy girlbossing it up with tog.

1. The Ministry of Time ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

was really not into it in the beginning probably because i haven't read lit fic in a while, but it def grew on me and the commentaries about being mixed race really hit home for me here 💔. def reccomend this to ur wasian besties because i almost cried.

8. Tethered ⭐️⭐️

this is your sign not to read books you see on tiktok because i was like oooh ahhh vampires i LOVE a vampire. not saying i don't love this vampire, but i couldn't get into it just based on the way the book was written and there's so many more books in the series i just knew i couldn't keep going through it. if you want a trashy wattpad vibe book (sorry if u love this book and i just called is trashy but its trashy in a good 2000s britney spears) kinda way.

**spoilers**

- kindreds curse saga: okay so my main qualm with this whole series is that by the third book the way the fmc acts just became too much and it's as if she's having no self-growth at all. like sorry for throwing tomatoes but she kept making decision after decision that led them running on their asses elsewhere. and it just never ended. ALSO i just couldn't with them fucking in the library after they fought a battle and then getting caught. PLS a library. anyways. also another comment is that i was really wanting to read this series because she was a healer but then turns out she doesn't even want to be a healer so i felt a bit sad about that in my soul.

- TOG: i have so many thoughts on this series my life is geneuinly changed thank you parents for buying me the box set for christmas because i could reread these books forever. what truly amazed me about these books were that characters i kinda disliked or hated (cough cough chaol) i truly came to love and understand by the end of the series which is so hard to do as an author i think. like i went from hatimg chaol in queen of shadows to feeling so sorry for him in tower of dawn. not that its not fucked up what he did to aelin and nehemiah but like you really get to empathize with him and his sitaution. and manon too! i didn't really like reading her parts at first but then i loved her by the end. and also i wasnt sure how to feel about rowan in heir of fire bc i already knew he was endgame but now i also love love rowan so much its like he's the perfect balance for aelin. also cannot express my love for the fmc that is calaena / aelin like she is amazing in every way possible.

[paa-official]

Recording No. 19

We didn't get any answers to anything and were just laughed at by Markus. After a few minutes, Xothar and Rundor came to take Markus to the city and interrogate him there. Xornud had called them while we were driving back to the station. I had also seen Rundor wearing a mechanical prosthetic as his hand. He gave me a dirty look when he entered the room.

It was all we could do but wait for Bristol to call so we could go to the Pentagon. And he hadn't called for so long that we drove back to the city that evening and waited for the next morning. But before we went to bed, I took a closer look at my watch. I wanted to turn off the tracker at home to avoid incidents like the one on the base.

Late in the morning, Xornud stormed to our night quarters and dragged us both to the train with two of his soldiers. The five of us then drove to Washington, D.C., where there was a railroad station similar to the one in Nevada. From there, we drove to the Pentagon in our human forms in a black Cadillac SUV, with me and Becka in the back seat.

During the drive, Becka had spent most of the time staring out the window as if she recognized the place. Then, as we drove past a park, I asked her >> Is everything okay? <<

She took a deep breath >> This was my territory. This is where I met Eriny. << she said quietly.

>> In this park? <<

>> No, by the monument. We walked along here once when he was on his way to campus. <<

I did my best to reassure her >> At least we know the Phalanx brought him back and he's okay. <<

She turned her head slowly towards me >> And what if all this doesn't work? Then no one is safe. <<

I exhaled and smiled at her >> It will work, don't worry about that. <<

They gave me and Becka visitor passes and then we followed the three phalanx wearing their disguises. I felt like I was in a movie Jenny had shown me about the Men in Black. And as cool as that feeling was, I was still worried that something could go wrong.

The large meeting room was already filled with people from the defense. Whether soldiers, ministers, officers or programmers, they had all been there. And they were all waiting to hear what Staff Officer Bristol had to tell them. And at the time, they didn't know that there were two aliens among them. And three lizardmen, but they weren't aliens because they were already born on the planet. But as I looked into the room, I also wondered who else could have been a Phalanx.

We sat down in our assigned seats and only a short time later the Minister of Defense entered the room. An older man with black hair and wearing a black suit. I couldn't see much more of him because I was further away from him. Someone on the podium announced him and I could actually see that Bristol was already on the podium, sitting nervously on a chair.

Everyone was quiet as the Minister of Defense walked up to the microphone >> Good afternoon and thank you all for finding the time to be here today. Last night, Staff Officer Bristol contacted me from Area 51 with some startling news. One that I didn't want to believe him at first. And I'm sure you've all heard what's happened to Area 51. Staff Officer Bristol wants to fill you in on the details and he's even brought someone with him. <<

He moved away from the desk and looked over at Bristol, who stood up and walked over to him. He thanked him and took the microphone >> Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for being here. I spoke to someone yesterday who has provided our military with valuable information for many years. I know how ridiculous this is going to sound, but what he told me yesterday is just shocking. <<

He paused for a moment to make sure everyone was listening to him >> There is an extraterrestrial race on its way to Earth to wipe out all of humanity so they can inhabit our planet themselves. <<

Disquiet settled in the room as everyone began to talk to each other. The collective murmur grew louder and louder and the apprehension in the people spread further and further that it made me feel sick. Becka also noticed me getting paler and held my hand tightly >> What's wrong? <<

I had to concentrate when I answered >> The fear in people is... is overwhelming. I also sense anger in some of them. <<

The Minister of Defense took the microphone again >> Now everyone please calm down. Officer Bristol is not finished yet. <<

The crowd slowly fell silent and Bristol spoke into the microphone again >> We don't know much about this species yet, although I had contact with them yesterday. Positive and negative. I would like to invite Agent X to the podium to further clarify the situation. <<

Xornud exhaled, but stood up and took one of his two people forward with him. The people in the room remained quiet as the two walked forward and stood at the lectern. Then Xornud began >> Ladies, gentlemen. My name is Agent X, at least that's what you can know about me. Two days ago, two individuals of the alien species called Griever, asked for our help. <<

While Xornud explained to everyone else what the problem was, Becka leaned over to me >> You still owe me an explanation about your empathy. << she whispered to me.

I looked at her in astonishment >> I told you I rarely use it. And only when it's necessary. Like in the fight against Markus. <<

>> I actually wanted to know where you got them from. <<

I sighed >> I don't know. I was born with it and all my life I thought I was the only one. At least until yesterday. Now I'm not sure of anything. <<

>> Do your parents both have dominant ability genes? <<

>> That's what I thought at first, but my parents are both shapeshifters. I didn't exactly get to talk to them much about the origin of my empathy. <<

>> At least you'll know what to do when we get back to the ship. <<

>> I rather hope I can talk to them about it when our people are welcomed on Earth. <<

Suddenly someone stood up behind us >> Excuse me, Commander Parker here. I have a question. Why don't we send some explosives to the ship? <<

In horror, we both turned around and took a closer look at this Parker. He looked about the same age as the Minister of Defense, maybe a little older. His brown hair had started to turn gray and his skin looked slightly wrinkled. He had rough stubble and a moustache. You could even see a metal cigarette holder in his breast pocket. He'd looked like he'd been cut straight out of the handbook for stereotypical > I-don't-like-him < generals.

The rest of the room turned to him as well >> Excuse me? << Xornud asked.

>> If we know where these aliens are hiding, then we can simply eliminate them very quickly. Then we won't have the stress of dealing with them afterwards. I mean, with our satellite systems we can certainly track them down. <<

>> And why should we take a violent path instead of a peaceful one? <<

>> You saw what they did to Area 51, right? Why would we risk letting that happen again? <<

The humans started murmuring to each other again. This time in agreement. I couldn't believe people were seriously considering this solution. There was a great opportunity in front of them and all they got out of it was war.

I wanted to stand up and say something to him, but the phalanx next to me held me by the arm and shook his head. Xornud had been a little disconcerted >> You don't think conventional weapon technology is going to be any match for the Griever ship, do you? << The commander laughed and spoke proudly from his chest >> You must know that our weapons have improved considerably in recent years. <<

Although the Phalanx held my arm, I still stood up and protested >> The Griever's technology is far too advanced for your missiles to do anything against the ship. It has force fields that can bounce off any weapon you launch. And if you attack first, it will be the last thing humanity ever does. <<

The room went quiet and Parker looked down at me from the elevated position >> And who are you, if I may ask? <<

Xornud cleared his throat >> This... is one of the Grievers. Apath, please show them what your people look like. <<

I looked at him again before taking on my real form. All the people in the meeting room gasped and tried to keep more distance from me. The Phalanx just grabbed his face and sank into his chair in shame. He already knew what was going to happen to him.

But Parker didn't twitch a muscle, except the corner of his mouth, so that his moustache danced briefly >> I was afraid that you were too scared to show yourselves to us. <<

I heard some people start to whisper about me and somehow I was proud of that. Maybe I could have finally convinced people to take peaceful paths. But Parker spoke to the podium again >> If these creatures can infiltrate us so easily, then all the more reason for us to launch a pre-emptive strike. Besides, we don't know if he's not just bluffing with the technology. <<

Again, unease spread. The commander's words turned my hands into fists. I could not accept that such idiots were employed in such high and important positions. During my two months on Earth, I got to know people in a completely different light. They were innocent, unsuspecting and open-minded. But this Parker. I still can't find the right words to describe him.

[edeschmedie]

Finally finished watching Cromwell (1970) yesterday. Out of all Michael Jayston films (current obsession still going strong!) I have been wanting to watch this the most because the English Civil War is a subject in which I am quite interested. Even then, going in, I prepared myself for historical inaccuracies and departures from my understanding of certain events and personalities because that's just what you do when you watch a historical film.

First thing to note is that the film has many good points. For its time, the film looked marvellous. I love the battle scenes and those scenes set in the House of Commons and the royal court – simply beautiful sets. Charles I's entrance into the Commons is my favourite; his flamboyantly colourful clothes set against a sea of MPs in black, providing a powerful contrast between royal decadence and somber Parliamentary sensibilities.

There's also a lot to admire in the acting. Alec Guinness is exquisite as Charles I and the character was played largely in line with my impressions of the doomed king: a sympathetic personal side (his reunion with his family after the war reportedly even moved Cromwell to tears) but a truly awful and weak ruler who didn't hesitate to drop even his most loyal supporters, as convincingly conveyed in the scene where Charles unfairly dismissed Prince Rupert after the Bristol surrender ("You promised mountains and yet performed molehills!"). Masterful performance.

Other supporting performances were strong too. I thought Dalton's Prince Rupert worked, despite the character being so different (read: less flamboyant) in my mind. Jayston's Ireton and Thomas Fairfax (not familiar with the actor, sorry) are even more different than what I imagined. I wasn't sure how I feel about the characterisation of Ireton and Fairfax. Seeing as I know Ireton primarily for the Heads of Proposals (probably the most famous document of that period, certainly influential in the Putney Debates, so there's really no escaping it) the differences stand out a bit. And no mention at all that he's Cromwell's son-in-law. Weird choice since that could have supported the storyline of Ireton being a strong influence on Cromwell, but on the whole I think that didn't take away from the story.

All this would have made the film an acceptable one save for one very key thing. I really couldn't stand Richard Harris's take on Cromwell. I know many biogs (even the ones that are sympathetic, like Antonia Fraser's Our Chief of Men) make allusion to Cromwell's 'changeable moods' but I don't think what Harris did captured what it means. Cromwell was most likely having nervous breakdowns (melancholia was the term used at the time by his physician) at certain periods of time, usually when he was faced with big decisions to make. What Harris did however was something else.

As I said, I don't mind occasional departures from history especially if they serve the film but here they did not. History aside, Harris made Cromwell changeable in a matter of seconds which backfired spectacularly considering that Cromwell is still one of the most divisive figures in English history. A careful balance must be struck between his nervous personality and his well-documented charisma and charm that helped him win supporters. There was no suggestion of the latter in the film. Even and calm tone of voice one second and suddenly booming rage in the next, shouting at everyone around him, even politicians who were on his side. Hard to see why anyone would see a leader in this unpredictable man sorely lacking in charisma. The personal side was more successfully portrayed –in scenes with his wife and when he received news of his son's death – although not enough to make up for the dismal attempt at capturing Cromwell the politician.

Aside from the lack of charisma, film Cromwell wasn't even portrayed as a visionary. It's like all ideas and plans he had for a better England seemingly originated from or were suggested to him by others around him chiefly Ireton. So, no charisma, no vision. Bad combo especially when stood next to Guinness' Charles I.

As the film is titled 'Cromwell', its success would largely depend on whether the character is convincingly played. I don't think it was. The film would have me believe that Cromwell's authority comes solely from his booming voice, as if sound volume was the only thing that matters in leadership. That's mainly why, despite all the good things that recommend this film and despite my willingness to forgive historical inaccuracy, I couldn't really enjoy it.

[modestvm]

PENNY, 24, GMT; SHE/HER. | if you’re hearing VIENNA by BILLY JOEL playing, you have to know GABRIEL MOORE (HE/HIM; CIS MAN) is near by! the THIRTY-FOUR year old HISTORY PROFESSOR has been in denver for, like, THREE YEARS. they’re known to be quite OBSTINATE, but being ALLOCENTRIC seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble JACOB ANDERSON. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those WANDERING EMPTY MUSEUMS, THE GLOW FROM A LAPTOP SCREEN and ROLLED-UP SHIRT SLEEVES AND V-NECK JUMPERS vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the DOWNTOWN DISTRICT long enough! 

full name: gabriel isaac moore. nicknames: gabe, abe. gender and pronouns: cis man, he/him. age: thirty-four. sexuality: bisexual. date of birth: july 15th. zodiac sign: cancer ( loyal, creative, sensitive, insecure. ) place of birth:  bristol, england. occupation: assistant professor of history, university of denver.

born and raised in bristol, the youngest of three with two older sisters. as a diplomatic service officer their father was away more often than not, so gabe was raised by his mother and sisters.

his interest in writing, reading and history was a curveball. aside from his father, the rest of the family's interests were firmly rooted in stem. they were ( perhaps justifiably ) worried that gabriel's interests would not give him much success in life. but he was determined to pursue his passion and after graduating top of his class at bristol uni for undergrad, went on to get his master's and phd in history at st andrew's.

moved to london after graduation wondering what to do with himself and fell into teaching. completed his teaching qual and sought out a role teaching history whilst continuing to research and publish occasionally on the side to keep up with developments in the academic world.

( tw: car accident, injury, depression & ptsd ) was cycling to work as per usual one day when he was hit by a drunk driver at a crossing. he woke up just short of a week later to a shock. gabe had been lucky, really. at least, that's what everyone said -- at the time he couldn't only think that was a cruel thing to say. his right leg had been amputated, originally below the knee but complications did not go his way and so shortly after he became an above knee amputee. otherwise, he was pretty much unscathed - scars here and there the only thing to show of his ordeal now.

slightly reeling and with nothing to really do during his recovery, gabriel turned back to the work he loved. this was something of a relief to friends and family as, not unexpectedly, gabe was diagnosed with ptsd and depression immediately following the accident and suffered during much of his recovery. by no means have either of those things become a non-issue in his life, but they have dissipated and significantly and well, when all else fails… there’s always throwing yourself into work or looking after someone else. he wrote a monograph, a social history of black africans in renaissance england that was eventually published just under five years ago now.

riding on the back of the book's success, a desire to return to academia and for a change of scenery he began applying for jobs. the offer from the university of denver came through and he took it and uprooted to denver. this was where his family’s relief was dampened; they thought it was a rash decision ( they weren’t wrong, but gabe was never one to change his mind once it was set and they knew it ) 

gabe has been in denver for three years now, comfortable in his position at the university but also keen to engage with as many people as possible. he runs a sort of 'history 101' evening class at the community college for anyone to attend.

wanted connections page ! gimme literally everything pls.

[le-souriant]

#MusicMonday Review - March 2025

This month is all about supporting each other. From a multitude of genres to choose from, all these songs manage to express a message of introspection, and hope. Give them a listen, with a word from the artists themselves. 🎧

Seaker – Lately

I’d give you part of myself If I could handle it It ain’t been feeling so easy lately

You gave me your hand Made it real You let me know about it When things weren’t folding so neatly baby

London, England is our starting point, with a ethereal Dream Pop track about offering a helping hand to someone, just when they need it the most, and make them come out on the other side:

"I wrote it during a bit of a difficult time mentally and it's a song about being there for people when they can't see their own worth.

I guess it's kind of a love song, but more a support song. If this makes sense!"

Club Silencio – Somewhere in a Limestone Cave in Pennsylvania

Sundial sayings are always sad Tedious and brief the way things last The last hour’s hidden so watch them all It’s locked somewhere inside a vault It’s all somewhere in a limestone cave In Pennsylvania

If these walls could talk what would they say? What would they say? If these walls could talk, am I right? Am I right?

Now let's go to Barrie, Ontario, Canada, for a Modern Rock track, with an alternative 80s influence, including the cryptic subject matter. It's all a mystery, so you've got yourself to blame for not listening:

"We are a very collaborative band. It began with an idea (Cian ONeill, drummer) to write about sundial sayings and how they relate to ideas of impermanence. I like to think it's from the perspective of a conspiracy theorist talking about the world ending and how there is no time like the present.

The American government stores important records and objects in limestone caves in Pennsylvania. In my experience conspiracy theorists often express sort of nihilistic world view that reinforces the idea of "living in the now" but because of a paranoia about the future as opposed to an openness toward or optimism for it.

Then the other person involved in writing those lyrics (Derek Upham) wrote the bridge and I don’t want to speak too much on what he wrote about. I think they are related to the first verse and chorus lyrics. We have almost always written in fragments where one of us has an idea and then someone else has an idea and so on, and we string them all together. I think it makes things interesting that way.

The instrumental was similar where everyone collaborated and built on each other's ideas."

New State Masses – Curtains Up

Another week has gone too soon of living life in reverse But what we’re not supposed to do Is ever shout aloud or speak so lend me your ear and I’ll tell it all to you

I walked a line untrue for you. So I've cut a mark in the dirt You hoped my bottle was lost too soon to ever shout aloud speak lend me your ear and I'll tell it all to you

Across the Atlantic, we land on Brighton, England for a soulful ballad with powerful lyrics that delve deep into themes of release, and recovery, as band member Pete explains:

"Curtains Up was my weapon and my protection in overcoming PTSD, putting those who'd wronged me in the past and finally turning the tables.

I wrote it at about 1 am and we recorded it shortly after while I still found it triggering to sing the words - I think you can hear that in the recording.

I never thought I'd be brave enough to release it as it is, as it's so emotionally raw but Matt Parisi (my other half on New State Masses) and Ben Hillier who co produced the record said it had to be honest. So here it is."

Ryan McMurtry – Full Picture

One of these days I'll drive away chase the dawn

I'll never see full picture floating down this river tired of gazing at the past and holding on like a ride

We travel west to Bristol, for a warm, atmospheric, Indie Folk song plenty of metaphoric imagery that shifts your attention right into your own imaginative faculties:

"The song is kind of about being lost and trying to get yourself on the right path. I wrote it when grieving someone who had been on a troubled path in life, so I was thinking about that a lot at the time, and also about my own life and whether I was going in the right direction."

Found Instruments – You're Not Alone

Sometimes I don’t feel like myself, and I just can’t figure it out

I thought you were drifting away Sometimes I don't know what to say I keep waiting on you

We end our UK trip, in Walton-on-Thames for a Twin Peaks infused Lo-Fi Dream Pop track, about reassuring a friend that everything will pass, someway, somehow. Breath out and in, it's happening:

"I started writing it with someone and a specific situation in mind but as it developed it became a bit broader which is usually how songs are for me."

Listen to them and much more on the complete Playlist:

[popentertainmentconcertreviews]

XPoNential Festival – Wiggins Park – Camden, NJ – September 22-24, 2023

They say that the 10th anniversary is the tin anniversary, and the 50th anniversary is the gold anniversary. Unfortunately, for the 30th anniversary of the annual XPoNential Music Festival, it seems that it was the rain anniversary.

Mother Nature did not cooperate with the weekend of diverse musical acts jamming out at Wiggins Park in Camden, NJ. Tropical storm Ophelia was battering the East Coast that weekend, and while no major damage was inflicted on the Philadelphia tri-state area, the area was slammed with rain. This caused regular reshuffling of schedules for the Fest on Saturday and Sunday, and the cancellation of some of the acts – including Saturday night headliners Tegan and Sara.

This was particularly a shame because this was the first time in years (if not ever) that there were not at least the last few bands on a couple of the nights playing down the street at the Freedom Mortgage Pavilion, which is an amphitheater and at least partially enclosed and would have provided shelter from the storms.

However, the bands and the die-hard crowds for the most part were hearty sorts – sadly far heartier than this writer – and they often played on throughout the storms. I have to acknowledge up front that while I was looking forward to an entire weekend of good music, I ended up missing the entirety of Saturday’s sets and only was able to see one of the Sunday acts.

I actually sat in my car in the parking lot for about an hour Sunday afternoon in the hope that the rain would clear up enough to catch the Bruce Hornsby and the Noisemakers and Low Cut Connie sets, but the rain just never went away. Which is a shame, I have heard that Hornsby did a fascinating complete reinvention of his 1986 number one single “The Way It Is.”  

Friday, on the other hand, was pretty exceptional. I walked into the park at the very tail end of the performance by Nik Greeley and the Operators. I heard the last couple of songs from their set from across the park, where I went to the Marina Stage to await the start of the next act. They sounded good, I’m sorry I didn’t catch the whole thing.

Next up was Philly-based Don McCloskey. (McCloskey was born in nearby Bristol.) He played to the hometown, rocking a Phillies cap (the old-school one with the fat P!) to share that he was a homeboy. In the lazily milling crowd before he came up onstage, a guy next to me promised he was pretty terrific and put on a great show. The guy wasn’t wrong.

He certainly had a big, rather tight eight-piece band, featuring himself on lead vocals and guitar, another guitarist, a bassist, a keyboardist, two percussionists and two female background singers. They were celebrating their latest album The Chaos and the Beauty, and his music was a mix of Americana, folk, rock and soul. He started out with a romp through the track “I IV V,” which opened with the evocative lyrics “There's gunshots outside my apartment / There's protests inside my head / Bullet holes in these worn-out clothes / Thank God you're in my bed.”

The drama was dialed down a bit with the more relaxed “Dre” and the somber confessional “Unbecoming.” Other standout tunes included “Kill the Lights,” “Son of it All” and “Welcome to the Fitness.”

We next headed over to the River Stage, where Margo Price was about to come on. Price came onstage looking smart rocking a lacy white and gold jumpsuit and scarf. (I only mention her outfit because in the middle of her set she changed into a different one, a frilly red-and-silver cocktail dress.) Like McCloskey – and pretty much everyone else who plays on WXPN – Price offered a gumbo of spicy tunes and musical moods, crossing genres and styles with panache.

Price brought the heat from the jump with her most recent album Strays’ atmospheric opening track “Been to the Mountain.” (She did announce that a Strays II was coming soon.) Then there was the frisky and poppy “Letting Me Down,” the bluesy “Change of Heart” (one of two songs Price played a scorching drum solo) and the sweetly devastated breakup song “That’s How Rumors Get Started.”

The guitar-based psychedelia of “Twinkle Twinkle” was another song in which Price’s playful connection with her crack band was noticeable. Then she rocked out to “Paper Cowboy” (the other song where Price shared drumming duties) and finally closed out on the alcohol-based medley of “Hurtin’ (On the Bottle)” matched with “I Think I'll Just Stay Here and Drink” and “Whiskey River.”

Next up on the Marina Stage was Say She She – made up of singers Nya Gazelle Brown, Piya Malik, and Sabrina Mileo and a large backing band. They refer to their sound as “discodelic,” a musical tribute to ‘70s girl groups like The Pointer Sisters, High Inergy, The Three Degrees, LaBelle, Sister Sledge and Chic. (The band name is a fun nod to that last group, “C’est chi-chi!: It’s Chic!”)

They do rock the soul and dance vibes, adding their own subtle swing vibe to the mix. Their mostly matching outfits add to the disco vibes, shiny silver minidresses and boots which look tres ‘70s, and at the same time oddly timeless. That description not only refers to their fashion sense, but their music and their whole vibe, a fun, dance-based palette of throbbing beats and sweet harmonies.

They did a terrific take on their recent single “C’est Si Bon” – a fun and frisky swinging dance track, which is NOT a cover of the Eartha Kitt jazz standard of the same name. The “delic” version of the “discodelic” descriptor shows up in “Astral Plane,” a sweet song riding on wah-wah guitars and cosmic vibes. Then there were the gorgeous Love Unlimited vibes of “Prism.”

The show also had a bit of extra, unexpected spectacle in the middle of Say She She’s set, when a random fireworks display suddenly appeared over the river, seeming to be coming from across the water in Philadelphia somewhere. I don’t believe it was specifically done for the music festival, although I’m not sure what it actually was for. (Was there a holiday that day which I forgot?) Still, it added a fun bit of pizazz to the show, although since the fireworks were behind Say She She’s audience at the Marina Stage, lots of people turned away from the performance to watch the fire in the sky. Then again, it added to the enjoyment to hear the stomping music backgrounding the fireworks.

After they ended, back at the River Stage, Old Crow Medicine Show did a fun mix of originals and classic covers. These tributes included takes on The Band’s “The Weight” (for which they brought Margo Price back onstage to harmonize with them), a fun romp through Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Proud Mary,” a combustible version of Jerry Lee Lewis’ “Great Balls of Fire,” and an inspirational take on Hank Williams “I Saw the Light.” They also did a sweet version of “Margaritaville” in honor of Jimmy Buffett, who had just died a few weeks earlier. The performance of “The Weight” earlier was also a tribute to The Band’s recently deceased guitarist/songwriter Robbie Robertson, and “Proud Mary” was a nod to Tina Turner, who famously covered the song.

Old Crow has always been an intriguing mix of influences, an Americana string band that loves bluegrass, country, folk, and even a bit of rock. Or, as Wikipedia describes them: “With an old-time string sound fueled by punk rock energy, it has influenced acts like Mumford & Sons and contributed to a revival of banjo-picking string bands playing Americana music – leading to variations on it.”

With decades of songs in their own catalogue, not to mention the aforementioned covers, the group did a deep dive into its songbook. They did a couple of songs from their current album Jubilee (the gospel tinged “One Drop” and the zydeco “Wolfman of the Ozarks). Older favorites include the frontier music of “Wagon Wheel,” the alt-country throwdown “Alabama High Test,” and the crazily entitled jug-band prison song “Brushy Mountain Conjugal Trailer.”

Sunday’s gigs (and undoubtedly Saturday’s, too) were all at the River Stage, because the Marina Stage was undoubtedly a soggy, muddy mess from all of the storms. This worked in some ways – no running around the park from stage to stage. Of course, it also had the disadvantage that it removed the constant flow of performances, because the stages couldn’t be reset for the new acts while someone else was playing. Still, this was necessary and a small price to pay. Well, it would have been a small price if not for the rain.

The sun actually poked through in the early afternoon and the rain stopped long enough for Josh Ritter to get in his set. Of course, due to the weather uncertainty, his show was completely revamped, going from a full band set into a one-man acoustic gig. According to one of the festival workers near the stage, Ritter also threw away his old setlist and decided to make up a new setlist on the fly while performing. This gave the performance a sense of spontaneity that you don’t often see, so that was a really cool bonus.

Probably not coincidentally, Ritter started out his performance with a galloping strut through “Feels Like Lightning,” which seemed a bit fitting for the weather. Other standouts were an atmospheric run through “Henrietta, Indiana” and a fun cover of The Sweetback Sisters’ “Deputy Blues No. 2.” He also impressed with the sweet, devotional love song “Kathleen,” with its hopeful couplet, “I’ll be the one to drive you home, Kathleen.” He then closed his set out with the gorgeous “Someday” and the tongue-twisting “Getting Ready to Get Down.”

After Ritter finished, while the roadies were setting up the stage for Allison Russell to start, the rain started again. At first it was just a little sprinkle, a bit annoying but definitely bearable. But soon enough it picked up speed and intensity, until everyone and everything was getting soaked. Sadly, this was pretty much the end of the festival for me, although as noted above I did shelter in place for a while in hopes that the rain would clear up again.

It never did, but while the weather shortened my weekend, it could not ruin the great vibe of music and fun that ruled the XPoNential Festival. And perhaps if I weren’t a bit of a diva (or if I were a little younger) I’d have braved the rains – like many other hardcore fans did – rather than going all Wicked Witch of the West (picturing myself shrieking “I’m melting! I’m melting!”) I would have gotten to experience more great music.

Still, even as a truncated experience, the 30th XPoNential Music Festival was a whole lot of great music and fun, I’m looking forward to year 31, hopefully with clearer skies.

Jay S. Jacobs

Copyright ©2023 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: September 27, 2023.

Photos by Jay S. Jacobs © 2023. All rights reserved.

[chessiedarlington]

My ‘best friend’ has decided we shouldn’t contact each other anymore.

I feel used.

[redhairedwolfwitch]

Searching For A Home (1/3) - Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: When leaving Barcelona, you say it was to grow as a player and get more playing time, but your real reason is to get over your crush. But the constant moving around and not staying with one club or league for over 2 years has led to speculation you have commitment issues. Turns out that the truth is very different to what has been assumed.

///

“You know why I have to go, right?” you whispered, staring out onto the empty pitch for one final time, glancing towards the twenty-two year old midfielder who let out a soft sigh.

“Si, I do. You want to play more. I will miss you.” Alexia whispered back, turning her head to watch as you walked back down the tunnel and away from Barcelona all together.

“Not the only reason… but I need to get over you, Alexia Putellas.” Whispering to yourself as you set off for your next adventure, your next challenge, your next club, in a completely different country.

///

Portland was nothing like Barcelona, but you threw yourself into the challenge of coming into the NWSL near the end of the season, trying to ignore how much your heart ached as the months went by and your contact with your teammates at Barcelona fluctuated. You had lost contact with Alexia all together, not hearing from her but finding out through social media how she and your teammates were doing, as transfers occurred and people started to spread their wings going into the next season of the Primera División.

You stayed with Portland for another season, developing your skills as your versatility was put to the test, stepping in for any injured players and adapting to the brutality and intensity that the NWSL had, before you were traded for the next season. Portland wasn’t home, but you’d met players that stuck with you as friends, but nobody compared to Alexia.

Portland Thorns trade with Chicago Red Stars announced

Will the versatile player be able to adapt to the cold Chicago winters?

“What the- really? My trade is announced and they focus on whether I can handle the weather?” you grumbled from where you’d been sitting on top of your suitcase, scrolling through your phone.

“Got it!” Tobin announced, revealing that she had managed to zip up your suitcase.

“Muchas gracias, Toblerone!” you grinned as Tobin rolled her eyes at the nickname you’d given her after a chocolate you’d seen at the airport once.

“I am not going to miss you.” Tobin declared but you raised an eyebrow, knowing she was lying.

“Chris! Tobin says she will not miss me!” you called out to your new teammate, who rolled her eyes at you both.

“I’ll miss you teaching everyone Spanish.” Tobin admitted, smirking slightly as you laughed.

“I still tutor online.” you pointed out as Tobin rolled her eyes, gesturing for you to stop sitting on the suitcase and help pack up the rest of your stuff you were moving to Chicago.

///

You withstood one Chicago winter before pulling as many strings as you could to get out of the clutches of the NWSL, begging your agent to send you anywhere else, just away from the league.

Portland Thorns player and Chicago Red Stars mutually agree to terminate contract after one year.

You were supposed to be in Chicago for three years, but one was enough. Chicago would never be home, but you kept in contact with your teammates there, until the media latched their claws into your image.

///

Fourth Club in over Five Years? Does this player have no club loyalty?

Bristol City sign Chicago Red Stars versatile player on free transfer

Who is this versatile player coming into the WSL? 

How long will they stay at Bristol before they move on to the next club?

Fans try to predict where the player will go next and when

///

Rolling your eyes at the headlines that came up when looking at social media about you, you’d seen the bingo cards that fans were making with their predictions too, but you didn’t respond, instead reposting the photo of you signing your contract with Bristol City that the club had posted.

You’d asked your agent to send you anywhere, so going to the mid-table club in the WSL, in England, was an interesting twist that you ended up welcoming. The girls were lovely, understanding your need for change when you admitted you were not happy in Chicago and needed something more, so arriving at Bristol became more than just playing football. You continued in tutoring Spanish online like you had since leaving Barcelona, alongside helping the younger players develop as your versatility to fit in anywhere on the pitch became more than just an advantage when arriving at new clubs.

You’d known that you wouldn’t stay at Bristol long, and you knew the girls at the club knew it too, so when Bristol City finished in 6th place in the WSL, going up two spaces from the previous season, you hoped that everything you had done to help the players helped them individually, and not just at a club level. Because your transfer had just been announced, with your next club taking you closer to Spain than the US and England had, to France with Paris Saint-Germain.

No Club Loyalty: Player trades Bristol City and WSL for Paris Saint-Germain and UWCL

For the move from Chicago to Bristol, you ended up selling most of your furniture and anything that wouldn’t fit in the few suitcases you had, not wanting to risk the shipping costs or possibility of damages. This meant that in Bristol, you ended up either buying new furniture, in the case of necessities, but you didn’t bother buying a lot, this parallel happening for the move from Bristol to Paris. This meant that when your captain ended up coming over to see how you were doing, Irene was concerned, and ended up taking you shopping for a bed frame and a wardrobe so you’d stop living out of your suitcases.

Sticking close to your captain, you developed a bond with Irene, speaking in a lot of Spanish since your French was… anyway, you finally told someone the other reason you left Barcelona.

“I didn’t only leave because I wanted more playing time. I left because,” letting out a sigh, you kept your gaze on the ceiling to avoid Irene and Lucía’s confused looks, “I left because I was in love with my teammate and I didn’t think she would ever love me back.”

///

Jack of all Trades, Master of None: When Being a Versatile Player is Not That Useful

“Wow… whoever wrote that does not know Shakespeare well!” you remarked, sat in the dressing room on your phone until Irene asked about whether you had bought a bedside table yet, raising an eyebrow when you admitted to using your empty suitcase as one instead.

“Alexia asked about you.” Irene admitted, having come back from the international break with her Spanish national teammates.

“What? Why, I… I haven’t spoken to her in four years, but she looks great, from what I’ve seen…” you froze up, feeling your face burn as Irene stared at you for a moment, figuring out the same thing you had. Four years of no contact yet you weren’t over Alexia Putellas?

“Maybe message her? She misses you.” Irene suggested, before announcing she was heading home for the day and that you should too.

You hadn’t even realised how empty the dressing room had gotten after training ended, so distracted by the media slandering anything about you, and Alexia no doubt could have seen what the media had been saying about you since you left Barcelona… that almost stopped you from texting her though, but she had seen that you were typing, and then you stopped, so she texted first.

Hola extraña

Biting your lip, you stared at the text, ‘hello stranger’, eventually typing out your response.

Lo siento. Ha pasado mucho tiempo, ¿no?

Apologising to the Barcelona player, and your former teammate, you admitted it had been a long time, then watched as she began to type again.

Sí

You froze, what were you supposed to say to that one word answer? Your phone lit up, revealing she had sent a follow-up text.

¿Cómo estás?

///

Your first season at PSG ended at 2nd in the division, and reached the semifinals of the champion’s league, falling to Lyon in both cases, whilst Barcelona lost against Wolfsburg. Bristol City ended up going down to 10th in the WSL, the media taking the opportunity to try to bring up how may have ended up leaving the team to suffer by leaving, but your game time at PSG was successful enough to drown it out, plus Irene and Alexia had warned you against paying attention to the media a while ago.

You ignored how shocked the fans and media were when they found out you were sticking around with PSG for another year, keeping to your 2 year contract that you had signed. The pandemic had left you unsure whether you wanted to stay in Paris, but you didn’t have a reason to leave before your contract was up. It wasn’t like Chicago.

Staying in Paris over the off-season, you would have travelled to Spain if you could, but the pandemic made it impossible.

You’d kept in contact with Irene, your other PSG teammates, and Alexia the most, but every so often, you’d hear from your old Thorns and Red Stars teammates too, as they shuffled between clubs themselves.

Fans and the media loved to drag you for your lack of smiles in the photography before games, the intense energy you gave off something accustomed to marmite. Loved by some, hated by others who wanted you to smile. Some people had figured it out though, your smiles hadn’t met your eyes for five years, since Barcelona.

PSG were doing even better in your second year there, ending up beating Lyon for the top position in the Division 1 Féminine as well as heading through the Champion’s League, captained by Irene, beating Lyon in the quarter finals to face Barcelona in the semifinals.

The first leg of the semifinals, Barcelona came to play in France, at the Stade Municipal Georges Lefèvre. Alexia kept her face blank and intense, ready for the match as she lined up. She didn’t expect to see you and Irene walk out to line-up in the tunnel together, but she could see the intensity in your expression and the stiffness in your posture.

Your play style had changed a lot, and it wasn’t just due to PSG. Your time in the NWSL had brought a brutal energy, a raw power she’d felt before when playing against the USWNT with Spain. PSG’s utilisation of your versatility made you a pain in Barcelona’s ass.

The first leg ended in a draw, 1-1, Barcelona getting two yellow cards, whilst PSG got three, including your captain. Somehow you had managed to go cardless, which had confused some fans, but others admired your technique that had started to develop in the NWSL. Either way, Barcelona were scrambling trying to figure out how PSG would play you for the second leg, and, on a lesser known note, if you had re-signed with PSG.

The second leg was a week later, and you were in the starting XI again, standing with Irene in the tunnel of the Amsterdam ArenA, Alexia spotted you before the match again, your stern expression juxtaposed by the playful wink you sent her before your face steeled up again.

Fighting against how much your face burned at the wink you’d sent Alexia, you rolled your shoulders and pushed it all away to focus on this next match. Whoever won, was through to the finals of the champions league.

Lieke Martens managed to score twice, within 23 minutes of each other, but Katoto managed to turn the tables three minutes later with a goal, taking it to 2-1. Two of your defenders had yellow cards before Barcelona started getting carded too, you could feel the frustration on both sides. On aggregate, Barcelona would win 3-2, unless you could turn the tides. Substitutions happened on both sides, and Barcelona’s goalie was even carded as you began to walk the line, pushing yourself further and sending more shots towards goal, and your teammates when they had better shots. Ducking back when Barcelona got the ball back, you were a pain in their asses to deal with, your versatility meaning you were ducking between attacking and defending at a ridiculous rate.

It took until stoppage time for you to get a final attack going, sprinting down the field as Irene sent the ball to you. Your teammates were scrambling to catch up as Alexia scrambled after you, her tackle barely getting the ball as you ended up sprawled out on the grass, almost eating the pitch. Pushing yourself up from the pitch, you removed the blades of grass from your mouth with a grimace. A hand on your back caught your attention before you looked up, spotting the ref giving Alexia a yellow card. The Barcelona captain was lucky it wasn’t a red, but Leila had managed to catch up with you and her captain just enough before she went in for the tackle.

The whistle blowing signifying the end of the match left you glancing up at the sky with a sigh.

“Damn.” 

You approached Irene first, letting out a breath as she pulled you into a hug, the two of you starting to walk around to your other teammates, and the Barcelona players approaching you both. Your eyes widened as you were met by players you hadn’t seen or spoken to much since you’d left Barcelona nearly six years ago, Jenni, Marta and Melanie pulling you into hugs.

“¿Estás bien?” Alexia enquired, feeling guilty for the tackle that sent you to the ground.

“Estoy bien, pero me comí la hierba.” You chuckled, freezing as Alexia’s hand gently cupped your cheek, removing a piece of grass stuck to your face. You did indeed eat the grass on the pitch.

///

Your final game with PSG was on June 4th against Dijon, with both you and Irene scoring a goal each. Both of your contracts were expiring, but Irene’s focus was also on Lucía and the couple’s unborn child, so she had already asked not to be called up to the Spain national squad for the 2023 World Cup Qualification due to the upcoming birth.

You’d known from the first leg match playing against Barcelona that you wanted to head back to Spain after your contract with PSG was up, speaking to your agent about any possible Spanish clubs being interested. You didn’t expect Barcelona to be interested, not telling Alexia or Irene the reasoning behind it, but when Barcelona came calling, you were donating and selling anything and everything that didn’t fit in your suitcases for the move back to Spain after six years.

Official: Barcelona confirm signing of PSG versatile player

Versatile Player Homecoming: 6 Years Later

PSG Player Returns to Barcelona Finally Smiling

“Bet fans didn’t have that on their bingo cards…” you murmured to yourself as you sat on the floor of what had been your place in Paris for the last two years, closing the football news tab without a second thought.

///

Alexia’s stomach twisted as she read over the news report, staring at the serious expression on your face from a photo that the media had used, their dig at your lack of a smile annoying her until she spotted a quote from you.

“There is no home for me like Barcelona.”

She may have let you walk away six years ago, never telling you her feelings before it was too late and you were gone, but the midfielder had kept tabs on you over the years, watching whatever footage she could find of you playing in the NWSL and WSL, before you arrived in Paris and she could ask Irene about you, plus watch your matches with PSG under the excuse that it was research for the UWCL. She’d followed social media closely, seeing the digs the fans made and how the media dragged you through the mud for having no club loyalty. She didn’t understand it at first, then again, Barcelona flowed through her veins, and your excuse at wanting more playing time didn’t make sense as you jumped from Chicago to Bristol to Paris in three years.

You never dated either, or you kept them so private that nobody on social media knew a thing, but it had been six years. The two of you had grown a lot, she was no longer the twenty two year old who let you walk away and leave for Portland, and you weren’t the same player or person you’d been six years ago either. You were a powerhouse and a pain in the ass to play against, but Alexia loved it, and you, even if she kept quiet about her feelings. Waiting for you to arrive in Barcelona for next season instead… for all she knew, you weren’t interested in her.

Oh, she had no idea.

[hvneybxns]

there wasn't anyone else that pulled out this side to him, not even bristol if he was honest. he knew that bristol loved him, he knew that she was his, or he had before everything had gone wrong. there had never been this urge to make sure that she knew, that she was his and anyone else. it had never been like that with stacey, she pushed each one of his buttons, always pulled away just enough that he was forced to drag her back, to hold her close and show everyone that she was his. she created an irrational side to him, one that he knew he would judge others for it they showed it himself and yet he had never stopped her. not till now. because as she pushed him away this time, there was nothing he did to stop her, nothing he found himself wanting her, once upon a time, he would have buried himself in her to forget everything that was happening, now all he could do was bury his first in the nearest wall as she walked away and he was stood without another word to say to her. eyes finding hers once more as he pulled his first from the wall that had lost it's fight fairly quickly, the male turned, leaving just as she had asked.

rational thoughts would tell her that it wasn't meant like that , but unfortunately rational thoughts never seemed to prevail with the brunette . and so she takes the comment personally , hitting a little too close to her heart for her liking , delicate features forming a sour expression that tells of her hurt . and it only gets worse when the male hits her with some home truths , ones she's never quite faced up until now because there never seemed to be any true closure for the pair , none that saw them working out just what exactly went wrong . and so all that were left were bitter feelings . he had almost everything right , except for one part . stacey did want him , more than she could ever process and more than her heart would ever allow . it was exactly why she pushed him away . but telling him that now seemed pointless , he had already made his mind up about her . " you're right ... " she replies in a complacent tone , eerily calm , apart from the slight tremble that threatened her words as she lied through her teeth to the male , " i didn't want you and i didn't need you , and i don't now either " behind cold gaze , there's the hint of vulnerability that she can only hope goes undetected , " you can go . " and she prayed that he did , before he could see her composure come crashing down .