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cassandraclare · 1 month

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New publishing announcement!

Hi guys!

I know it’s been a long time since there’s been news about The Wicked Powers. I’ve actually been sitting on information for a long time because I was not allowed to talk about it. It was making me pull out all my hair, so I am super glad to be able to share the following announcement with you: The Wicked Powers is scheduled for publication, and will be published by Walker Books in the UK and Random House in the US.

There’s a bunch more about this announcement, including the announcement of a brand-new YA romantasy series I’ll be doing called In Fire Foretold. That will be published by Pan Macmillan in the UK (same people who published Sword Catcher) and by Random House in the US.

I know there will be a lot of questions about what my schedule is, why things are coming out when they are, whether I have anything coming out next year (Yes, The Ragpicker King, the sequel to Sword Catcher, and also for those who participated in the Kickstarter, those four books) and the overall future of everything Shadowhunter-related. So I will be doing followup announcements to address all that stuff, but first, here are both press release from my publishers in the US and then in the UK with all the info!

GLOBALLY BESTSELLING FANTASY PHENOMENON CASSANDRA CLARE TO PUBLISH FINAL TRILOGY IN THE ‘SHADOWHUNTER CHRONICLES’ AND NEW DUOLOGY WITH ALFRED A. KNOPF BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS First book in THE WICKED POWERS to release in Spring 2026

(New York, NY, April 5, 2024)—Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, will publish five new books from #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cassandra Clare, whose novels have sold more than 40 million copies worldwide, been translated into 43 languages, and published in more than 60 countries. The new publications will begin in Spring 2026 with the first book in THE WICKED POWERS trilogy, the sixth and final series in Clare’s 23-book, young adult fantasy franchise The Shadowhunter Chronicles. Also slated for publication with Knopf is a brand-new YA romantasy duology, IN FIRE FORETOLD. The news was announced today by Melanie Nolan, VP and Publisher, Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers, who acquired North American rights from Suzie Townsend and Joanna Volpe of New Leaf Literary & Media in a highly competitive auction. Michelle Frey, Senior Executive Editor, Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers, will edit both series.

Cassandra Clare mesmerized readers across the globe with the publication of City of Bones (2007), the first book in the Mortal Instruments series, and was quickly dubbed the “New Queen of Fantasy” by the Wall Street Journal. The Mortal Instruments became the basis for the far-reaching Shadowhunter Chronicles, an intricately drawn world that has seen global success and has been adapted into both a feature film and television show. The books follow the Shadowhunters, a secretive race of humans born with angel blood, whose mission is to eliminate the demons that plague the Earth. Knopf’s first publishing collaboration with Clare, THE WICKED POWERS (Spring 2026), will follow Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn, and Drusilla Blackthorn from The Dark Artifices series as they are drawn into the final massive conflict between the demons and the angels.

IN FIRE FORETOLD is a pulse-pounding YA romantasy duology set in a new world with entirely new characters. The story centers a young woman who must learn to control her dangerous magical abilities in order to save her kingdom, all while finding herself torn between two brothers—the kingdom's princes, born to a cursed royal bloodline. The publication date for IN FIRE FORETOLD, as well as news of additional books to come from Cassandra Clare and Knopf, will be announced.

Says Cassandra Clare: "I am delighted to have Knopf and Penguin Random House as my publishers for this last trilogy in the Shadowhunters world. They truly understand what it means—both for the story and for my readers—to wrap up such an epic tale that has been told over so many years. I'm also excited to be launching my next YA series — a kickass portal fantasy that contains a ton of things I love, from a bold and reckless heroine to a magical wasteland filled with terrifying monsters that must be fought, to a love triangle with two very unusual cursed princes. I can't wait for us to bring these stories to the world."

Says Michelle Frey: “Cassandra Clare is a beloved author whose work has a massive following for good reason: she sucks you into a fully imagined world and never lets go until the last, satisfying page. I have long admired Cassie and am thrilled to be working with her on both the delectable final trilogy in the Shadowhunter Chronicles and the heart-stopping new love triangle she has dreamed up with IN FIRE FORETOLD.”

Random House Children’s Books (rhcbooks.com) is the world’s largest English-language children’s trade book publisher. Creating books for toddlers through young adult readers, in all formats from board books to activity books to picture books, novels, and nonfiction, the imprints of Random House Children’s Books bring together award-winning authors and illustrators, world-famous franchise characters, and multimillion-copy series. Random House Children’s Books is a division of Penguin Random House LLC.

UK/AUS/NZ:

Walker Books will publish three new books, the final trilogy in Shadowhunter Chronicles, the first coming in Spring 2026.

Separately, First Ink will publish a brand new YA duology, introducing readers to a fantastical new world of Clare’s creation, filled with enticing new characters and heart-racing action. With sales figures for Cassandra’s novels exceeding 40 million copies worldwide, translated into 43 languages and published in more than 60 countries, these are exciting and major acquisitions for both publishing houses.

Walker will launch THE WICKED POWERS in Spring 2026 with the first book in the trilogy, The Last King of Faerie. THE WICKED POWERS is the final instalment of Clare’s 23-book, young adult fantasy series, Shadowhunter Chronicles.

THE WICKED POWERS (Spring 2026), will follow Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn, and Drusilla Blackthorn from The Dark Artifices series as they are drawn into the final massive conflict between the demons and the angels. The novel marks the beginning of the final trilogy in Clare’s globally beloved series.

Cassandra Clare Says about THE WICKED POWERS: "I’m thrilled to be taking this momentous step in the Shadowhunter chronicles with Walker! They published City of Bones in 2007 and now we will be bringing this huge epic to a close together. With their creativity and dedication, I know they’ll do it justice."

Denise Johnstone Burt says: “We at Walker are immensely proud to have been Cassie’s publishers from the very beginning, when City of Bones launched the Shadowhunters into the world. Since then Cassie has become one of the most beloved writers in YA fantasy all over the world, and with very good reason. Her world-building and character portrayal are absolutely second to none and her books never fail to mesmerise her fans. I am delighted that we will be returning to the world of Shadowhunters once again in THE WICKED POWERS, and know Cassie will bring the Chronicles to a conclusion with her trademark brilliance and consummate style.”

First Ink will publish IN FIRE FORETOLD, a pulse-pounding YA romantasy duology set to delight all fans of Cassie Clare. UK and Commonwealth rights were acquired by Samantha Smith, Publisher of First Ink and Macmillan Children’s Books’ Fiction, Non Fiction and Picture Book List, from Danny Baror and Heather Baror-Shapiro at Baror International. The duology will be a super lead title for First Ink and will launch with a significant multi-channel communications campaign including national media, influencer and fan events [HBS1] and multimedia advertising.

IN FIRE FORETOLD sees the launch of a brand new world and set of entirely new characters for Clare. The story centres on a young woman who must learn to control her dangerous magical abilities in order to save her kingdom, all while finding herself torn between two brothers - the kingdom's princes - born to a cursed royal bloodline.

Cassandra Clare says about IN FIRE FORETOLD: “I’m so excited to be publishing IN FIRE FORETOLD with First Ink. This story contains so many things I love- it’s a portal fantasy that swings between worlds, where the gritty LA streets exist alongside a dangerous magical world filled with deadly monsters - and a uniquely tough heroine who’s ready to do battle on all sides. Not to mention some gorgeous princes with shady pasts. I know how much Pan Macmillan loves fantasy and how well they publish it so I’m thrilled for this partnership."

Samantha Smith, Publisher at First Ink, says: “Cassandra Clare is a phenomenon author who has delighted and surprised her millions of readers across the world for decades now. As a huge fan of both her YA Mortal Instruments series and latest adult fantasy Sword Catcher, I cannot wait for her to turn her formidable pen to a new, heart-stopping series in In the Fire Foretold and could not be more excited to welcome her onto the First Ink list”

Belinda Ioni Rasmussen, Managing Director at Macmillan Children’s Books, says: “ Welcoming Cassandra Clare to First Ink with a brand new fantasy world is very exciting - both for us and her fans. Her storytelling is second to none and her new duology on our list is the perfect partner series to her brilliant publishing that sits on our Tor list at Pan Macmillan.”

About Walker Books

Home to books for all ages, Walker Books publishes many award-winning authors, illustrators, and literary franchisesincluding Anthony Horowitz, Angie Thomas, Cassandra Clare, Lucy Cousins, Anthony Browne, Patrick Ness, Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney and Anita Jeram, We’re Going on a Bear Hunt by Michael Rosen and Helen Oxenbury, and Where’s Wally? by Martin Handford. Walker Books is part of the vibrant international Walker Books Group that includes Walker Books Australia; Candlewick Press and Walker Books US in America and Walker Productions.

About Pan Macmillan

At Pan Macmillan we publish a broad and vibrant range of books for audiences of all ages, from dazzling bestsellers to influential prize-winners; books to inspire lifelong readers and listeners to enduring classics for generations to come. The fourth largest UK publisher, we pride ourselves on publishing successfully and sustainably and are committed to working together to positively impact culture and society at large.

#press releases #they're just written like that #shadowhunters #the wicked powers #the ragpicker king #cassandra clare #the last king of faerie #twp

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

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Sleep

Katrina Gorry x Teen!Reader

Summary: You fall asleep

"Hi everyone," Katrina whispers to the camera," I just thought I would show you all what I'm dealing with."

It's almost pitch black on the screen as she moves her phone to capture the area. She's in a hotel room, that much is obvious. It's one of those hotel rooms that's got a double bed and a single.

She aims the camera at the single bed, where Clara is sound asleep, pressed up against her pillows.

Then, she draws the camera back to the double bed. It shakes for a moment before it focuses on you. You're curled up against Katrina's side, light puffs of breath tickling at her neck.

Her hand strokes down your bed hair as you fidget around for a second before you settle.

"Got the wifey to bed," She says to the camera," And the kiddo."

You fidget again, eyes fluttering open and closed before you're completely relaxed.

When she arrived at Vittsjö, she hadn't quite expected you. Obviously, there was Clare and then later on Charli but then a fourth Australian on the team wasn't what she expected. She expected it even less when she found out from her new teammates that you were the rising star from the youth programme.

"My parents are both Australian," You had told her when she asked," They're here for work. We moved when I was nine." You had then confessed that you rarely saw your parents due to the long hours they worked and throwing you in football had been cheaper than getting a babysitter for you.

It was at that moment that she knew she'd keep you close. You were barely sixteen, full of energy and a desire to prove yourself so Katrina set herself up as the person to reign you in a little bit.

It was hard at first, all you wanted to do was resist and resist and resist until you nearly snapped your ankle at training and, with your parents on a business trip, you got stuck at Katrina's place.

Suddenly, you had a structure in your life and a routine and (most surprisingly to Katrina) a bedtime. It sucked for the first few days with Katrina watching your every move and scolding you when you tried to wiggle away and leave without telling her.

But, somehow, you managed to settle in with and never ended up leaving even when Clara moved in and suddenly you were competing for Katrina's affection with her.

Somewhere along the way, you ended up between them both every day at practice. You were always within arms reach of them both during training and when you inevitably got called up to the Matildas for the World Cup, Katrina felt more proud of you than she ever had before.

You groan loudly as your eyes adjust to the light of Katrina's phone screen. You lift your head.

"Mini," You say," 'S too early to get up." You moved around slightly until you were fully face-planted in her neck. You did that a lot now, always curling into her in some way or another like a clingy little baby.

She just smiles fondly at you, still recording on her camera.

"I don't want to get up," You mutter, refusing to come out from your hiding place as Katrina cards her fingers through your hair, gently working out the knots there.

"You don't have to get up," She assures you," Go back to sleep."

You're still groggy and already half-asleep but you just make sure to check that it's okay. "Not time to get up?"

"Not time to get up," Katrina confirms, easily manoeuvring you like you're a puppet so you can be in a more comfortable position.

It's hardly the first time that you've shared a bed with her (or fallen asleep on her at all as you do that frequently on the coach) and it's easy to get you into a position that will have you sleep through the night.

You don't fight against her at all. You just allow yourself to be moved around and you yawn as you lay more fully against her body, your hand coming up to rest at the collar of her pyjama shirt.

"Night, Mini," You say even though you're almost completely back to sleep again.

Katrina looks at you, shaking her head fondly before turning back to the camera with a smile. She gives it a thumbs up. "The kiddo's back to sleep."

#woso x reader #katrina gorry x reader #katrina gorry #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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yeeterthek33per · 9 months

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Bittersweet Days (Charlie Grant x Reader)

A/n Requested

Warnings: a little bit of smut at the end. I've marked the section with a star so y'all can skip it if you so wish but marked the kind of end, so y'all could read the last bitty bit, so warning, teeny mention of nudity in the last of it.

Your chest is heaving as you grab one of the blue bottles from the drinks crate, squirting a stream of water into your mouth.

The subs along the line handing the current lineup their bottles during the injury check.

"I swear to fucking god, they're firing on all cylinders tonight, Asllani is on my ass like she's glued to it. I can't focus and I can't mark her either."

The game hadn't been going well. Sweden suddenly picked up the pace like they had fire lit under their asses and Sam was now down with a leg tweak after a challenge from Eriksson.

It didn't help the referee didn't do shit about it for a whole minute. Even Eriksson and Mušović were going the ref about her taking so long to call it.

Charlie hands you a sweat towel and takes the bottle from your hands when you offer it.

"Don't let her get in your head. She's just trying to pick apart the midfield. She's already gotten into it with Mini. Don't bite the bait. Stand your ground, but don't bother trying to chase her around. She's not the one you need to keep an eye on."

"Rolfö is being the biggest pain in the ass to mark. There's no way our backline can keep up with her. Hunty is the only one who can even block her from that side. Ellie's getting drawn out way too quickly, and I have to back track, and it's leaving Asllani open. It's like we're panicking."

You shake your head. What a way to celebrate your anniversary.

Charlie takes the towel from your hands as well and moves to hold your shoulders so you can sit still for a moment, ever eager to get back out on the pitch.

"Babe, you know how to keep the midfield locked, talk to Ellie, she needs you to keep her in line. If she goes, Clare covers, not you. You have to cover the top of the box, you know this." You nod, grabbing the bottle to take one last drink and Tony signals you over.

"Talk to Mini in that midfield. She can cover Asllani, but not while she's playing the way she is. She's getting pushy, and Mini is biting easier by the minute. I might have to pull Sam here, so I'm looking at Chids to replace her. She'll cover where you and Mini can't. Look for the lines, follow your lines, L/n, you got this." He claps you on the back, and you give him a tight nod.

As Sam gets walked off and you all return to the pitch, there's a higher tension in the air than before. Everything just stops functioning. It's like nobody listened, and Sweden is just blocking everything that gets sent in. Sam isn't coping, and she can't meet any headers despite insisting to Tony to let her go back on.

Alex is subbed on for Polky, but she isn't given the time or ability to get much done. Why would he push her there? Their backline won't allow for her style of play there.

In the end, it's just frustrating, and the exhaustion is setting in faster than every other match. Steph is trying to keep the backline in form, but running a full marathon at the World Cup isn't doing her legs any good either.

In the end, the moment the whistle blows at the end of the game. You all just collapse to the pitch. You'd all pushed for effort after effort, but nothing broke through. In the end, the Swedes emerge victorious.

Everything kind of just crumbles down. Sam collapses to the pitch, Steph is already on the ground by the technical lines where Tony is, who's still arguing with the ref. Lord knows why.

The man's patience when it came to terrible reffing ran about as deep as the hole you wanted to dig yourself into.

Everything hurt. Your heart, your head, your lungs, your legs. It all felt like a slap that your grandkids would feel. Like it made your father turn over in his grave.

You felt the pats on the back from some of your teammates and some from Sweden as well.

You push yourself up, legs shaky and muscles screaming at you. You go find Sam, giving her shoulder a quick pat as you kneel in front of her.

"Hey, c'mon cap, that's gotta be hurting your ass. Up we come." You pull her up and wrap your arms around her, and she just grunts and just about leans fully into you.

You walk her over to the bench, arm around her shoulder, and give her a few back pats and a shoulder squeeze, mumbling words of consolation to her.

She doesn't say much, and you leave her with a small kiss to the temple.

Charlie is the first to approach you, having spotted your hunched form and slow limping steps. You can tell she's holding back a lot more than she feels comfortable with. The tears peeking out of the corners of her eyes, and the red of her face make it obvious to you.

"Hey baby, I'm so proud of you."

You bury your nose into her neck the moment she has you wrapped up in her arms. Her hand sits at the back of your neck, squeezing at it slightly, and her other rubs circles into your shoulder blades.

You lean into her slightly, feeling your legs wanting to give out on you, and she quickly moves her arms around your waist to hold you.

You whimper, feeling your knee start to twinge more now that you aren't running on adrenaline. You'd done it in about six months ago, but the pain never fully went away, even after months of physio.

You just stubbornly chose to ignore it after not being able to play and worrying it would cost you your career.

"I know it hurts, sweetheart. It's just a little bit longer, and then we can go back and just stay in for as long as we like."

Charlie only knew because she caught you spraying the crap out of it one day with deepheat after a particularly bad training session, and the cold was starting to set in on it.

"Sorry, I know this isn't exactly the present you wanted for our fourth anniversary." You say half jokingly, and she just gives you a watery laugh, shaking her head.

"Honey, I got my present a month ago when we stepped onto the pitch together before the game in Sydney. That's all I've ever wanted."

Tears only pour harder. "We were so close, though. I could've played harder, I could've done something about that damned midfielder."

"She was just so much more physical than either of you or Mini were prepared for. There's nothing you could've done without injuring yourself or the other player."

"Me losing out on my knee would have been worth it if we had made history."

Her hands grab your face at that, bringing you to look her in the eye.

"No, it's not because we already did that. Because you already helped do that. You putting yourself out permanently should never happen for a piece of metal that will get covered in beer and put on a hook to get dusty inside a display cabinet. You are worth so much more than that. Don't ever put yourself or your career down for that."

"But-"

"No. You've worked so hard to get here. You put your knee on the line just to make the team. It's time to rest. It's okay to need a break. It's okay to say you've done everything you could. It's okay that you couldn’t force yourself to do the impossible. You gave everything, and that's what matters. Sometimes, stuff happens, and you end up outclassed."

You huff a sigh, sniffling lightly. Then slowly nod.

"Okay, okay, I see your point."

She caresses your face.

"Good. I love you."

You give what you can of a smile.

"I love you too."

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Upon return to the hotel, you're all invited for an afterparty and taking the opportunity to let off some steam, you all accept.

You half collapse on the bed in your room while waiting for the bathroom to empty so you can shower properly.

A thought comes to mind. Why hadn't you planned anything more for today?

Charlie woke you up with flowers and delivered (pre approved) breakfast. She snuck you extra coffee in the morning every day. She made sure you had your gear back clean and organised and folded while dealing with everything she needed to do as a player.

She'd made sure you both had the night together last night.

Hell, she made you laugh in one of the most heartbreaking settings a player can go through at a World Cup even though she barely got minutes on the field herself.

What had you done?

Given her a heart attack when you went down and played one game together, that and a terrible apology earlier after the game.

After chatting with Mini, Kyra, and Harper, though try as she might, little Harper wasn't as much help as the other two, you set up a roof top date, rented out one of the top suites in the hotel for the night and promised Tony more media duty for the next month than the whole team combined in exchange for the night off.

So that's where you decide you have to do something.

----------------------

You arranged a little food delivery, snuck out to drop by a few stores, and bought some last-minute flower arrangements and a few packets of rose petals.

You also stopped by a jewellery store to pick up a necklace you knew she'd been looking at while you were out on the team morning walk.

Now, you just had to convince Charlie to stay in with you without it being suspicious.

With it being about thirty minutes before the team was set to leave, you knock on the door to the room Charlie shared with Kyra, ignoring your muscles screaming at you after you'd told Charlie you'd still go with her to the afterparty.

She looked like she didn't quite believe you, and questioned your pain level but you insisted you were fine and that you were happy to go out, knowing she needed to have something to do other than the usual team stuff.

Kyra opens the door, but the moment she spots you, and you give her a nod, she turns back to Charlie. "Hey Cha Cha, your girl's here."

Charlie looks up, a smile gracing her lips but mild confusion joining it.

"I thought we were meeting down at the bus."

You shake your head, immediately having to go over the plan in your head again.

Everything was making you nervous at this point, but you had to fight for your life to not let any nervous tics show. Lord knows your girlfriend would spot them in a heartbeat.

"Actually, change of plans. I convinced Tony to let us skip and found a really nice place for us to go for dinner. I know we haven't had too much time together lately, aside from last night, which I wanted to thank you for."

Charlie's expression softens, and she hops up to come over to you, immediately pulling you in for a tight hug.

"Baby, you don't have to thank me for anything, I'm more than glad for any time we spend together. Saying that, I will take you up on that offer."

You grin and let your lips meet hers for a moment. Of course, you hear a gagging noise from Kyra.

"You two are so sweet, it's actually fucking gross."

Charlie rolls her eyes and turns back to you, arms still around you.

"Come back in about twenty and we can go?"

"Fifteen, I have to show you something first."

"Baby, c'mon, you know my makeup takes forever, twenty, please?"

She bats her eyelashes at you, and you roll your eyes lovingly and peck her lips.

"Fine, twenty."

"Whipped."

"Shut the fuck up, Kyra."

----------------------

"Okay, when you said you were showing me something, I didn't think you meant breaking onto the roof. Why are we coming up this way anyway? You're gonna get us both in trouble."

You seemingly don't hear her protests as you both walk down the hallway to the roof access.

"Seriously, I love you, but now is not the time to fulfil your 'sex under the stars' fantasy."

You roll your eyes and open the door, and start to ascend the steps. She's looking around nervously at the security cameras and nearly stops behind you.

"Y/n, seriously, you're gonna get us into shit with the hotel. We can't be up here. I love you, but why are you bringing me into this again?"

You stop suddenly and turn, grabbing her by the face and kiss her.

"Because you love me, and you follow me anywhere."

She groans, knowing full well she can't argue with you. As much as she vehemently denies it and gets teased for it, she'd follow you off a cliff or into outer space if she had to choose.

You continue up the steps, and when you reach the door to the roof, you step aside and gesture for her to go through first.

"Ladies first."

She huffs at you and moves around you to open the door.

"You're such a little shit, honestly."

Hand to your chest, you gasp softly.

"You wound me." It's said with a teasing smile.

The moment she opens the door, she freezes, tears coming to her eyes.

The roof is set out with an outdoor garden and a pergola with vines wrapping the wood. However, a white clothed table sat directly in the middle, a longer one off to the side with shared dishes that you both love and miss having now that you're away at the World Cup.

The ground and the tables are sprinkled with rose petals, and there's various vases of flowers around.

She realizes now why you'd been so insistent, and when she turns back to you, she can see only pure love and admiration radiating back at her.

The suit you were wearing was perfectly fitted, and it seems the moment she looked away, you'd clipped a small rose to your pocket.

Charlie has to tilt her head back slightly to avoid letting the tears ruin her makeup.

"Happy Anniversary, my love."

Her hand comes up to cover her mouth as she looks back at you, fighting off tears.

"Baby, did you really do all this?"

You give her a shy smile, running your hand through your hair.

"It was last minute, but lately, you've been doing so much for me, and for us as a couple, I had to do something. I love you and appreciate you so much, and I won't ever feel like I'm doing enough for what you deserve. I'd give you the world if I could."

She laughs and grabs you by the hands to pull you closer.

"God, I love you so much. You're doing so much more than you'll ever know. Happy anniversary. Thank you for doing this for us."

You smile widely and cup her cheek, giving her a quick kiss and gesture to the table.

"Hungry?"

She looks over at the food on the table set out for you and nods quickly.

"You got me my favourite comfort foods. Hell yes, I'm hungry."

You chuckle, and you both dish up from the transportable warmers.

You settle down to eat, chatting about the day and looking back on some fond memories from your early days.

"I can't believe I let you sign me up for a whole go-karting season. As fun as that was, you drive really weirdly dangerous compared to how you drive a regular car."

"Do not, I'm just free spirited when I'm in a mini race car, that's all."

"Baby, you intentionally sent someone off the track because they nudged me trying to go around me."

"That was a fair response. Thank you very much. He was an asshole and he was pretty much fine after anyway"

"The poor guy ended up with a broken arm."

You go silent for a second, and Charlie has an amused look on her face.

"But.. he tried to take you out, it was only fair." You pout.

"Yeah, but baby, you got us banned from that go-karting place for life. I'm 90 percent sure they blacklisted you, too."

"Look, I'm just saying Rich asshole wants to lay wheels on my girl. He ain't walking away without a few scars, okay? Plus, it's better than that time you got us kicked from Paintballing."

"They should've kept their dicks in their pants."

"Clearly, they had to, considering you shot all of them in the crotch."

"Their problem for not wearing the supplied crotch guards."

"Yes, and the instructor was clearly impressed with that effort."

"I did try to tell him they wouldn't stop flirting with you, so they needed a reality check. Plus, I did just say it wasn't intentionally aimed that way while we were fighting."

"They were your teammates. We were on opposite sides of the course."

Charlie pouts and moves around her food slightly.

"Still didn't stop them from trying to get your number at the end of it. I saw you giving something to them by the way."

You raise your hands slightly in mock surrender.

"I may or may not have given them the number to that radio station that broadcasts all the creepy voicemails and texts they get from guys who purposefully get given the wrong number."

Her eyes crinkle with laughter as tries to cover the sound, the melodious noise making your heart warm. You could listen to it all day, every day.

"Oh god, please tell me you've got the broadcast somewhere."

"Maybe. It requires payment for viewing though."

Charlie raises a brow at you. "Yeah?"

You tilt your head playfully. "Yeah, sorry baby, only acceptable payments are kisses."

She hums, nodding.

"Remind me later and I'll take you up on that offer."

"Aw, no fun." You pout softly.

"Baby, we're enjoying the night to ourselves. We have plenty of time for kissing."

"Speaking of, Tony knows we're not gonna be in our rooms tonight."

She tilts her head slightly.

"I may have booked us a room for the night separately."

Her heart absolutely melts at your words, and she wordlessly grabs your hand over the table.

You wiggle your eyebrows. "Wait 'til you see the room."

She giggles softly, shaking her head.

"God, I love you."

Your eyes water, heart beating faster.

"I love you too."

Should this be it? The moment you finally used that damn box that's been tucked under three layers of old socks and giving you a world of anxiety?

Not yet.

The velvet lined case was like lead in your pocket though, and if you didn't do it soon, she'd probably get sick of waiting and do it for you.

You knew she knew you were waiting to propose. She was only waiting for you to do it.

You hold it back and suck back tears before she sees them. You continue eating, and her laughter fills the air as you do everything you can to keep her laughing throughout the night.

Later on, under the caressing melody coming from a speaker you had set out beneath the table, you and Charlie sway together. The moonlight filtering through the vines of the pergola leaves a soft dappled glow across your skin and surrounds.

Your heart flutters as her hands trace the contours of your shoulders before moving back to settle on your neck.

A tender smile tugs at your lips, warmth spreading through you as you feel her fingers play with the hairs at the nape of it.

You can feel the squeeze of your fingers on her waist beneath them, holding her like you never want to let go. Your shared breath intermingles in the space between you, a bridge between your shared love making your heart race.

You take the moment to just ruminate. Your heart replays the moments that have brought you here.

The shared completion of your dreams, the laughter, the moments of disappointment, and the hard times you got stuck in that you had to work out how to navigate.

In all of it, one thing remained consistent.

Charlie.

Your rock. Your love. Your confidant. The person who stood by you at your worst and raised you up at your best. The woman you were so sure couldn't possibly return your feelings just four years ago.

And yet here you were, stood embraced under the moonlit glow of the night, just hours after a fourth place finish at the World Cup.

And yet here you were, holding the love of your life in your hands, her holding you like you'll slip away at a moments notice. That's when you know you're gonna marry this woman.

This beautiful, light, courageous, caring, kind human being was yours.

Her fingers in your hair send shivers down your spine and her lips murmuring sweet nothings to you course through your gut like your blood flows through your veins.

You live in the moment for as long you can before you can tell exhaustion is starting to set in a little between the both of you.

"Come on, love. I can tell you're tiring a bit there. Wanna head in for the night?"

Her lips meet yours softly in a brief but reassuring kiss. "I'm not done with you yet."

Your lips move to her neck with light ghostings across her skin.

"We've got time, baby, all night if you want."

Her sigh and slight head tilt urge you on.

"Lead the way then."

---------------------- **

Under the soft sheets of the bed, you lay propped up on your side, elbow holding your head above the blonde girl beside you, fingers gently tracing her stomach as the breathlessness relaxes into calm once again.

Charlie moves to turn onto her side to face you properly.

"Please tell we didn't let that food go to waste up there?"

Your laugh from there makes her pout slightly.

"I just gave you some of the best three orgasms you've had and your first thought is that?"

Your tone is teasing, and she whines, shoving you lightly.

"I just feel bad is all." You reassure her quickly.

"Don't worry, I made sure my assistants had the food wrapped up and put in storage for now."

"Assistants?" She cocks a brow and you move to straddle her bare waist.

"Yup, my assistants."

"Uhuh, also what makes you think these were the best three orgasms I've had."

You gawk slightly, hands now settling on her ribcage.

"Oh, you've had better have you?"

She braces, slightly hands settling against your wrists, knowing where this is going.

"Mhm, maybe."

Your gleam turns mischievous, and your fingers start to twitch at her sides.

"Is that so?"

Her laughter rings out as you tickle her, squealing slightly and trying to shove your hands away as you relentless torture the poor woman.

"Baby, please! I'm sorry, that was a lie! Please!"

"Oh, was it now? Who gave you the best, huh?"

"You did! you always do, nobody else!"

You slow your ministrations and lean down to take her lips with yours as she calms her breathing again.

"Damn right."

Her breathing turns to soft sighs as you trail your kisses down, resting at her abdomen, tracing the soft lines of her stomach.

It's like everything hits you all at once, the moment she's in your lap, rocking her hips into your hand, your lips trailing up her neck and she breathlessly whimpers your name when your fingers curl inside her.

The moment her legs start to shake and the high of her orgasm reaches, it's out of your lips before you can stop it.

"Marry me."

It catches her off guard, her eyes shooting open slightly as she cries out, clenching around you.

**(if you wanna read the proposal)**

Her breathing calms, and her head moves forward from having been lulled back.

"You wanna repeat that?" It's not said with anger, only a soft undertone of surprise.

Your cheeks turn red at that. You mutter it again.

"Please marry me?"

You don't expect the soft laugh that accompanies it.

"Baby, that was the most unorthodox way you could have proposed."

The tips of your ears are now burning too, and you turn your head slightly to avoid her gaze but she grabs your face and kisses you hard.

"God, yes, I'll marry you."

You grin hard and kiss her again.

You pull away, slipping out from under her to grab your discarded suit pants from the floor, digging out the box.

A soft sigh, leaving your lips as you, still naked, lower yourself to your good knee.

"I was planning on doing it after dinner, but I half chickened out, and now I'm doing this. I wanted to give you a proper proposal, one that you deserve and one that'll you'll remember for the rest of our lives. While the second half may be true, I'm disappointed for not doing it earlier."

She moves to the edge of the bed, tears starting to slip down her cheeks.

"I love you so much. You've been there for me when I wouldn't let anyone else in. You've been my rock, my whole world. You supported me when I was ready to give up. You've lifted me up when we've both been triumphant and you've given me every bit of your heart you could and I love you so much for it and I want, if you'll let me, to spend the rest of our lives repaying it by giving the same back to you."

You pop open the ring box.

"Charlotte Layne Grant. Will you do the honour of making the happiest woman in Brisbane, Australia, and marry me?"

Her laugh is choked up with soft sobs as she nods. "Of course I'll fucking marry you."

Her hands pull you up onto the bed again, kissing you hard and you catch yourself from falling onto her entirely, ringbox still in hand.

You pull away just enough, tears now streaming down your own face, too.

You show her the ring, and she finally gets a glimpse of it. It's a custom, rose gold ring with roses and a deep set diamond with two rubies set on either side at the top. There's also something engraved on the inside.

The moment she reads the inscription, she covers her mouth to stop her sobs.

You look at her worried.

"Is it okay? Are you okay? I didn't know if-"

She tackles you back onto the mattress, and you nearly fall off the bed entirely, just barely managing to catch yourselves.

"I love it, it's perfect."

On the inside, it says.

"To my love, my life, Charlotte Layne Grant-L/n"

"May you forever shine at your brightest, my superstar."

You help her slip the ring on, and her arms immediately wrap around your neck, and you bury your face in her hair, just sitting and holding her.

You finally did it.

You're marrying your superstar.

----------------------

#charlotte grant x reader #charlotte grant imagine #charlotte grant imagines #charlie grant x reader #charlie grant imagines #charlie grant imagine #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso #woso imagine

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vettelsvee · 2 months

Text

JUST LIKE YOU | Oscar Piastri Prologue

<- PREVIOUS PART | JUST LIKE YOU MASTERLIST | NEXT PART ->

warnings: curse words, my very much created version of the vettel family (seb is married to diana vettel, his former race engineer), claire's parents being trash. christmas time! english not being my first language so sorry in advance for any mistake <3

taglist: just tell me in the comments if you wanna be tagged in the following parts!

a/n: would you like me to post Sebastian and Diana's fanfiction, History?

2022 December 20th Switzerland

Claire

If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that there was no way in hell I should be here, on the other side of the world, getting off a plane after nearly 25 hours of flight and a layover, and just two days shy of turning twenty-one.

Or maybe there was.

I don't know.

My parents were not at all pleased that their only daughter preferred to go with a woman, a mother and married to my uncle's arch-rival for a decade now, to try to solve the little existential crisis I was having now that I had only about five months left of university.

My uncle's wife thought the same, but since I had never liked her, if my parents' opinion didn't matter to me at all, hers mattered even less.

Mark was the only one who encouraged me to go to Switzerland to see Sebastian and Diana Vettel. I'm sure that more than the conversation he had with the engineer, seeing me crying and with smudged makeup after the three and a half hours of video call with the woman, was what convinced him in the end. Obviously, we didn't achieve my goal either: figuring out what the hell to do with my life once I finished the damn studies.

Seb must be in the arrivals area. Emily wanted to go with him. I'm sorry I couldn't go, someone had to stay with Charlie and Matilda.

After seeing Diana's message and answering her not to worry about anything, I hurried out of Zurich Airport as quickly as I could in search of the father and daughter so as not to keep them waiting much longer, all while controlling my nerves about meeting them again.

We were in the midst of the Christmas season, and that was possibly the main reason why even the last nook of the airport was crowded. Also, why my fear for crowded spaces was growing.

I tried to stay calm, focusing on the noise my suitcase wheels and my sneakers made against the pavement. I breathed in and out several times until I felt the anxiety decreasing, while at the same time I had to force myself to keep moving among the crowd when I could barely pass through, ignoring the curious stares of those around me, and the occasional stupid comments about how today's youngsters didn't have manners.

Every time someone passed near me, I tried to recognize one of the two faces I was expecting to see, but it seemed that the mission of finding the Vettels was going to end up being much more difficult.

"Clare, Clare!"

A childish voice shouting my name made me stop in the middle of the road and turn in the direction of the sound, trying to figure out where it was coming from. In the distance, apart from the crowd, next to a pearly white Tesla and a girl with curly, completely blonde hair, I spotted a tall figure with long hair, a headband misplaced on the forehead, and sunglasses.

Sebastian had his hand raised in a greeting gesture, telling me to head towards them.

"Clare, it's great to see you again!"

The blonde wrapped me around his arms, and all I could do was laugh at the mere thought of telling my ten-year-old self that I would feel so comfortable with the person I once hated the most in the world.

"I would say the same, but I'm really tired and not in the mood to talk," I lied, although partly it was true. What I didn't want was to face that conversation, at least not yet. "I missed you. Well, I missed you all," I admitted.

"We've been apart for a month, Webber. Both you and I, and Di, and your uncle, thought it was going to be longer."

"Thank my mental breakdown for that then, and also that your wife is my personal Tony Stark," I laughed.

"Again with the Marvel references?" he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "I won't judge: Di is my particular MJ, or my Gwen except she isn't dead."

I didn't have time to answer or to calm my laughter because Emily, with the typical energy of an eight-year-old, approached me bouncing around. The eldest of the Vettels reached a little below my chin, and I realized she was no longer the baby that Seb and Di used to take to the paddock every race weekend and with whom I used to play. I assumed it was the same for Charlotte and Matilda.

"Look what I drew for you!" the blonde said proudly as she handed me a paper.

I took it and admired it tenderly, carefully observing the childlike strokes that seemed to represent her parents and her sisters, with me as a special guest, as if I were one more in the family. Obviously, there couldn't be missing a Christmas tree to our right, filled with presents.

"It's very beautiful, Emily! Thank you very much," I responded as cheerfully as I could given my weariness. "Do you want us to show it to Mark when we get home and I talk to mom?"

"Yes!"

The German looked at us after putting my belongings in the car's trunk and intervened again:

"Emily has been counting the days for your arrival," he revealed, leaving me a little surprised.

"And Charlie and Matilda too. Matilda speaks baby language, and we don't understand her, but she claps every time when we talk about you," the girl added. "Since mom told us you were coming to spend a few days with us at Christmas, we asked Santa in our letters to bring you a present."

"Well, Di and I were also looking forward to your arrival," the retired driver blushed, scratching his head shyly.

I didn't know what to say, and Vettel seemed to realize it. He tried to say something else, but he ended up just telling us to get into the car because there were still about forty-five minutes to go to the family house.

I sat in the back of the car at Emily's request, and as I chatted with her and her father about how the family was doing after retiring from Formula 1, how they felt about the upcoming filming of History, the documentary where they would talk about their lives and uncover things that hadn't been made public before, and especially about the topic that worried me the most, where I could do my internships for the last semester of university, I let the whirl of thoughts invade me gradually.

After all, it wasn't every day that you set aside your own family to spend the most family-oriented time of the year with another family member less, going to the other side of the world.

Unfortunately, I didn't think that the people who created me, especially my father, would say that all this confusion I had been carrying for longer than I'd like to admit, and that I had kept silent for so long, was just an excuse to continue living off the cuff or because, simply, I didn't feel like continuing to study.

"Are you okay, Claire?"

The concern in Sebastian's voice brought me back to earth. I saw his eyes staring at me through the rearview mirror, quickly diverting his gaze from the road.

"Yes, of course. I'm just tired from the trip, as I told you before," I lied. The forced smile and tension in my voice showed the opposite.

"Are you going to be with us for all Christmas holidays?"

The girl's question, so simple and innocent, made all my pent-up doubts increase. I knew there was a remote possibility that I hadn't made the right decision, and after hearing that, I was becoming more and more sure.

Diana reassured me more times than I'd like that they didn't mind having me there as part of the family because I already was. My parents told me to do whatever I wanted, that I was old enough to make my own decisions, and that if it wasn't now, it was only a matter of time before I left for any little thing.

The disdain and arrogance with which they gave me their response made me pack my bags and call Mark to pick me up as soon as he could.

"Yes, Emily. Claire will be with us for all Christmas holidays" the German replied for me.

"Why aren't you going to spend the holidays with your mom and dad?"

I felt the knot that was already in my throat tightening more and more. I looked at Seb, begging him to help me while I tried to find an answer to the innocence of the girl without being rude or revealing to her that maybe I didn't have as cool parents as hers.

"Emily, sweetheart, that's not something you ask," Sebastian immediately reprimanded his daughter as calmly as he could, stroking her leg from his seat.

"Sorry..." the little one said with a melodic voice. I thanked him with my eyes, to which he responded with a simple tilt of his head.

"It's okay!" I hastened to say to avoid saddening her, wrapping my left arm around her. "Sometimes, parents and kids... argue, but in the end, they always make up and recognize their mistakes. Does that happen to you with mom and dad?"

"Yes!" she responded immediately. "I also argue sometimes with my sisters over toys or food, and mom scolds us, although dad almost never gets mad at us."

The conversation continued without any further altercation or mention of anything I didn't want to hear. I greatly appreciated it because time ended up passing faster than I thought, and in the blink of an eye, I could already see the dark wooden structure with white tones where I assumed the family lived.

When I spotted Diana, with Matilda in her arms, greeting us as if her life depended on it, and Charlie playing with Clifford, the family dog, I knew I had arrived at one of my second homes.

"Home sweet home, girls!"

Before the blonde even had a chance to turn off the engine and say anything else, his daughter and I were already running down to go towards his wife.

Emily, without even greeting her mother beyond a slight wave, went to play with her middle sister and with the Great Pyrenees. Diana shook her head, laughing at her daughter's attitude. She put little Matilda on the ground and, to my surprise, she started running through the grass trying to catch up with her sisters and the dog.

"Has she learned to walk already?" I pointed to the little one while the redhead gave me a hug.

"I thought you were coming so we could talk about you and your future, not so you could see the not really important progress of my family in the month we've been apart."

"I can see you didn't have sex with Seb tonight, huh? What a mood," I whispered sarcastically in her ear. She burst out laughing and started hitting my arm.

"Don't be silly! Come on, let's go inside. It's cold and we have a lot to talk about. I don't want you to catch a cold."

Calling her daughters next, who initially resigned themselves to go back home, I finally headed inside with Diana. Seb approached us shyly, as if he didn't want to bother us. Seeing him out of the corner of my eye, and out of respect, I let him pass in front of me and slowed my pace a bit, falling a little behind the couple, but that didn't stop me from seeing how the German took his wife by the waist and gave her a short kiss on the lips, showing the affection and complicity that I already knew they both had.

I wish I had something like that in the future but, as my parents must have known, who would want me with my shitty attitude?

"Claire, sweetheart, make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."

Diana disappeared, and her daughters and husband followed her. I decided to listen to her and sat on the couch, taking a blanket that was on it to wrap myself up. After a few minutes, I spotted her again, now approaching Seb to exchange a few words in a low voice while sharing quite a few caresses for my taste and, once again, another kiss.

In a matter of seconds, the engineer disappeared and reappeared with a tray in her hands that had a couple of glasses, several beverage cans, and a colorful variety of snacks that I didn't recognize.

However, some of them were typical Australian ones. The ones from my home. My home.

I hated that Diana Vettel was one of the most amazing and humble people I had ever met because each time she made me feel more like I wanted her to adopt me, regardless me being 21 already.

"Damn, it's like you bought the whole supermarket," I commented under my breath as a defense mechanism to avoid bursting into tears.

"For you whatever it takes, darling," she answered, sitting next to me and taking a bit of the blanket to wrap herself with it too.

I stayed silent, moved by her words. Since I didn't know how to start our conversation, nor did I know if it was the right time to have it, I just looked at Sebastian, who was now in some kind of greenhouse with his daughters, teaching them what seemed to be how to plant some kind of vegetable or who knows what.

"I know it was hard for him, but he's happy," the redhead suddenly spoke, pointing to her husband. "I tried to convince him not to retire yet, and he tried everything to get me to accept the offer to be Mick's engineer at Williams," she explained. Did Diana turn down the offer to be Schumacher's engineer this upcoming season? "But I guess it was time for us to be a normal family."

"You've always been a normal family in my eyes," in a strange way, yes. They had lived from Emily's birth in 2014 until just a month ago more in any other country in the world than in this house. I would swear that it would even feel strange for them to be here for so long. "And you, how are you?"

The woman seemed surprised by the question. I knew her well, but not as much as I would like, and I knew that this was one of her typical reactions. I also knew about some difficult things for her thanks to my uncle, and others because they became public, like the alleged leaked porn video starring her and Sebastian.

However, all the negativity didn't detract from the fact that my admiration for her was maximal since I met her in 2012.

"I know you're in charge of the F1 Academy with Susie," I continued, seeing that she was still in her trance, "but I guess it's not the same as being on the pit wall directing your husband and trying to make the sport a little more inclusive in all aspects."

"You said it, it's not the same. I miss and, at the same time, don't miss being in Formula 1," she finally confessed. "Feeling so undervalued when you're trying to give so much more than your maximum... it's tough. It's hard to feel like you're enough and that you're worth something, not to mention the constant thought of whether you really deserve what you've achieved."

"For me, and probably for Seb and many others, you're more than enough, Diana. I told you when I was ten, and I still think the same: I want to be like you when I grow up."

"And I told you that you don't have to be like me, but your own version," she added. "No matter what happens, you always have to be yourself, Claire, not trying to be someone you admire."

She lowered her head, shaking it, and then raised it again to look directly at me. I saw how the greenish tone of her eyes was covered by tears that, in a way, made me feel bad for her because it wasn't my intention to make her feel bad.

"You'll become like me if you want then, darling," she continued, her voice almost breaking. "I'm more than convinced, and I'll help you as much as I can to make it happen. After all, that's why you're here, right?"

Damn, the topic I just didn't want to talk about had finally come up, but I knew I had to address it.

I didn't know if I preferred to face my uncertain future or my partially dysfunctional family.

"Yeah. That my family sucks is another reason why I'm here," I grumbled.

"What happened, darling?" she took my hands and pulled me closer to her. I rested my head on her shoulder, and she started stroking my hair, as she had often seen herself do with her daughters. "We can leave the conversation about that extensive work world for another day, but not about your parents. I know it's affecting you no matter how much you try to show otherwise with that armor you put on."

The sigh that escaped my lips was heavy, as if I needed it to start slowly unloading the heavy burden I had on me.

"I don't know why my parents don't understand me," I started, my voice directly charged with frustration and, let's not say it, sadness. "I don't know what the hell to do with my life," I heard Diana scolding me for the curse word, but I didn't care, "and it bothers me that they can't put themselves in my shoes when, look, they've already been in my shoes."

"Claire..."

"Damn it, Diana, I'm their only daughter. If they don't want to support me, they could just refrain from giving it to me, not tell me that all this is an excuse to keep studying or... I don't know, not to start working or whatever bullshit they come up with."

The woman looked at me with compassion, nodding her head. She didn't know it, but something inside me was sure that she did understand me, and it hurt that it was just a person who hardly belonged in my life and not those who had given it to me.

"It's normal for you to feel this way, in the work field I mean," thanks for changing the subject, Mrs. Vettel. "I went through it in early 2011 when I saw that my graduation was getting closer and, therefore, the end of my contract as a trainee," she replied. I knew she wasn't the only one, I knew it. "If ninety percent of me sensed that they wouldn't renew me, the remaining ten percent thought I wouldn't even continue working in Formula 1. Obviously, with too much luck and thanks to a lot of Seb's influence, it was the opposite."

She took a sip of water, put a small Reese's in her mouth and, putting her hand in front of her mouth, continued:

"They say that choosing what you want to dedicate yourself to, supposedly, for the rest of your life is the worst part, but no one warns you that the end of the journey is the worst part of it," she said honestly. For God's sake, was this woman good at everything? "I know how hard it must be for you to feel this way, especially when you expect support and being understood from those who should give it to you the most. Luckily, you have your uncle and your aunt, just like I had my uncle and my aunt."

"Eloise is my uncle's wife, that doesn't make her my aunt. Not to mention the shitty behaviors she has towards me," I corrected her coldly.

"I've also been a victim of that snake, and I ended up blaming it on your uncle, so don't worry."

"The thing is, it's frustrating, you know?" I continued, ignoring the last thing she had said. "Knowing that you can't be honest and you have to constantly pretend to be the perfect daughter."

"Nobody's perfect, Claire, and as long as you're here, with us, these days, I won't allow you to be," the redhead assured me. "You can be honest about anything without fear of being judged by us, because it won't happen."

I looked up at her and was surprised. It was the first time someone, besides Mark, had taken my side and understood me.

"You're not going to take my parents' side?"

"I don't have to excuse them when I think they're not right," she revealed. "Being a parent is... difficult, and when you're all born, you don't come with a manual on how we should educate and raise you under your arm, and they don't give it to us later either, right? But there is something in which I understand your parents.

"In what?"

Diana Vettel directed her gaze towards where her daughters and husband still were. She chuckled softly and glanced back at me, giving my thigh a little tap.

"You'll understand someday if you ever become a mother, or care about someone so much that you always want them by your side."

Before I could even respond, she got up from the couch, swiftly tossing off the blanket, which ended up falling on my face. Her bare feet thudded heavily on the floor as she moved quickly, heading towards the stairs, forcing me to run to catch up with her.

"Where the hell are you going?" I shouted, breathless, gripping the staircase railing to catch my breath.

She didn't respond beyond telling me to watch my language, as the girls might hear us. I admired her as a mother, but sometimes she was so good at it that it exhausted me. The only consolation was knowing that Seb often let out curses in front of their daughters and prayed to whoever was with them not to tell Di, as he fondly called her.

"Diana, I would truly appreciate it if you could let me know in advance if you're planning any outings. I've been on a plane and in an airport all day, and there's nothing I want more right now than to crawl into bed and pray that jet lag doesn't hit me."

"Shush," she immediately responded as she sat down in front of the computer on the desk in what seemed to be her office. "I've been thinking about something for a few days now, and we need your uncle's help."

My uncle? How was Mark going to help me with my existential crisis, to shelter me in his house?

No way. I'd have to endure his wife, and I'd pay all the money in the world not to see his face.

"Mark isn't going to help us, I'm telling you," I replied, getting a bit annoyed by the uncertainty. "Who do you think he is, Cinderella's fairy godmother or something?"

"No," she said, scrolling through her FaceTime contacts until she found one labeled M. Webber, just below another one labeled Lara, followed by a bunch of heart emojis and weird faces, "but he might be able to help you land an internship."

"Mark already has a lot on his plate," I began to say as the redhead pressed the call button. "Dealing with Eloise, for example, takes a lot of work, and..."

"Hello, Mark!"

My uncle's smiling face and raised hand filled the screen. I knew his smile was a bit forced because he had heard the comment I made about his wife, but as always, he turned a deaf ear.

"Well, well, what's going on over there, ladies?"

"You must be kidding..." I muttered, earning a smack on the arm from Diana. "Fine, Mark, fine," I finished, shooting them both a disgruntled look.

"The thing is, putting aside formalities, after your niece more or less told me about the little problem she has with your brother and sister-in-law, and after I've been mulling over what we talked about the other day, I've come up with something," the engineer explained.

Mark furrowed his brow slightly, a bit confused and apparently a bit worried by the words of his former teammate's wife.

"Go ahead, it's all yours."

"Claire is a bit confused about what to do with her future," I stifled a laugh. I wished it was just a bit, and all this didn't feel like it was making me want to tear my hair out, "and she also has to do her final year internship. I thought that, if possible, we could help her do it in a Formula 1 team."

My eyes widened in surprise, and I shouted "what" louder than I had ever said anything in my life. My heart started pounding at the mere thought of me, Claire Webber, in a team of the sport I loved most in the world. I even started to feel dizzy with the idea.

"Are you kidding me, right?" was all I could say to Vettel.

"Do you want Claire to be Diana Vettel 2.0?" my uncle asked with a hint of sarcasm. "Are you planning to create a pilot project and then implement it with your daughters?"

"Neither one thing nor the other," the woman replied, quite agitated, crossing her arms. "Your niece doesn't need to be the second version of anyone. She's already her own version."

My uncle fell silent, realizing he had screwed up royally. Diana, on the other hand, tried not to make a big deal out of it, although she knew it might have affected him. She asked me to take the chair from what used to be Seb's desk and sit next to her, and so I did.

"According to the Teaching Plan of the University of Melbourne, Claire should start her internship period next January. The season doesn't start until March, but she could try to request some kind of leave," Diana explained in detail. I was pleasantly surprised that she had informed herself so much, and especially that she offered to help me.

"Don't worry, Diana. I can look for another place to..."

"As I told you before, I haven't forgotten that since we met in 2012, you've been telling me that you wanted to be like me," she interrupted. "Every time we've had the chance to spend time together, you've emphasized your dream of wanting to be part of this world, so if you not only have the chance but also the talent to make it happen, that's how I'm going to try to do it."

I nodded, accepting her proposal and everything that came with it. If this was my chance to pursue my biggest dream, and I could do it hand in hand with my own Tony Stark, then I had to make the most of it.

"So I should go starting from early March, right?" my uncle wanted to know, seemingly agreeing with everything.

"Yes, but I think it would be even better if she went to the preseason tests," the redhead asserted, getting closer and closer to the screen. "Maybe that way she can make herself seen and, perhaps, do something to get noticed by a team..."

I stopped paying attention to the conversation they were having because my eyes drifted to the back of the image emanating from my uncle. I saw as the door behind him slowly opened, revealing the figure of a guy I had never seen in my life.

His light brown hair fell slightly over his forehead. The color of his eyes was also brown, though a bit darker, and they stood out quite a bit against his fair skin. His shoulders slumped downwards, his gaze was almost downcast, and he seemed to move with such calmness that I didn't know if it was because he was tired or because he was just naturally laid-back.

"Mark," he began to say, "am I interrupting or...?"

"No, no, no worries! Come in and make yourself comfortable, Oscar!" my uncle replied. "I'm talking to Diana Vettel, who you surely already know," he greeted her with a wave and asked how she was, "and this is my niece, Claire."

"She's the one you've talked to me so much about, right? The one who's my age, studies Aerospace Engineering, and is almost as passionate about Formula 1 as I am."

Who the hell was Oscar, what the hell was he doing at my uncle's house at seven-thirty in the evening, and why did he know so much about my existence?

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teejaystumbles · 1 year

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The thundering waves are calling me home to you The pounding sea is calling me home to you. On a dark New Year’s night On the west coast of Clare I heard your voice singing Your eyes danced the song Your hands played the tune T’was a vision before me. We left the music behind and the dance carried on As we stole away to the seashore We smelt the brine, felt the wind in our hair And with sadness you paused. Suddenly I knew that you’d have to go Your world was not mine, your eyes told me so Yet it was there I felt the crossroads of time And I wondered why. As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea A vision came o’er me Of thundering hooves and beating wings In clouds above. As you turned to go I heard you call my name. You were like a bird in a cage, spreading its wings to fly “The old ways are lost” you sang as you flew And I wondered why.

The thundering waves are calling me home to you The pounding sea is calling me home to you.

more siren au stuff because I am trying to accumulate a playlist and went for Loreena McKennitt in search of folksy music I love - and I found the perfect song for inspiration. <3

@moorishflower

#srsly LOVE Loreena so much for decades #own art #siren au #this is like what if Dream showed up at land and Hob is like WHAT NO DON'T GO #idk moorish fix up something if you like #dreamling #dream the endless #hob gadling #loreena mckennitt #the sandman fanart #the sea the sea #Spotify #teejaystumbles

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dilemmaontwolegs · 11 months

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Running From The Flames {Epilogue 1/2}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: parenting - that should be a warning lmao, sexual themes

F1 Masterlist || Previous Chapter - Epilogue 2/2

There was only one word to describe my life and that word was: chaotic. That being said, I still wouldn’t change it for the world.

The family calendar on the fridge was completely full and colour coded so we could all see where we were needed on any given day. Even so, I still lost track of my husband or our kids at least once a week.

“Sydney, honey, have you seen your father?” I asked the spitting image of Pierre who was in the race simulator. He was always in the machine, practising for his upcoming debut into Formula 4 now that he had turned 15 and could move up from karting.

“Picking up Addie from the airport.” He barely looked away from the triplet of screens in front of him as he answered with all the attitude of a teenage boy being interrupted in life. “It’s on the fridge.”

I looked at the calendar and realised I was looking at the completely wrong day. “Shit.”

“Ha,” he laughed loudly as he navigated the virtual track of the Red Bull Ring. “You forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” I said as I scanned over the correct day and saw I had a board meeting to prepare for tomorrow. “I just thought it was Tuesday today.”

“Whatever you say, maman. You can tell me I’m your favourite, I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t have a favourite, I love you all equally. Now, can you finish that game and go do your homework? You still need to pack your bag for the weekend too.”

Addie was coming home from London for the week, taking a little break from her own busy schedule, to watch Sydney’s first race with us in Austria.

It had been difficult to let her leave home at 18 but she had worked hard to get a place in the Arsenal Women’s Under 21 team. I had left home at the same age and Pierre had left even earlier, so we were hardly the exemplary figures to deny her. All we could do was make sure she stayed safe and she knew she could call either of us 24/7 if she needed help. It was also never that long between visits, making plenty of stopovers in England as we travelled.

The travelling for work was tiresome but so far we had yet to miss a football match on Saturday or a karting race on Sunday. It did help being our own bosses so Pierre and I could manage our schedule around the kids. He had been running Strauss Fashion for the better part of the last ten years, after Granny finally retired properly, while I had been the Chief Technical Officer at Alpine, which Grandpa had purchased.

When Harry passed away three years ago I found myself suddenly thrust into the ownership of the team and though there were plenty of offers to sell it, I decided to take the leap of faith and see where the journey would take me. I hadn’t looked back and so far we had two Constructors' Championship wins with our seasoned pilots, Gabriele Minì and Oliver Bearman.

We had come so far, it was hard to believe until I saw the wisps of grey hairs among the dark strands.

“Maman!” I was pulled from my reminiscence and looked at my watch to realise how quickly the afternoon had gotten away from me as Clare bounded through the front door and leapt into my arms. “Maman, look!”

Clare had been a wonderful surprise that completed our family two years ago. After Sydney’s unexpected and frightening early arrival Pierre had been reluctant to try for another child, though he had always wanted three. I thought maybe he would change his mind after the terrifying memory faded with time but then a few years passed, we both got caught up in work, and after that it seemed too hard to imagine returning to sleepless nights with a newborn.

But, the universe had other plans for us. What I thought was a long-enduring hangover, after celebrating the rebranding of Alpine into Gasly Racing, actually turned out to be morning sickness. Those final weeks before her birth were stressful enough to send Pierre to his doctor for a vasectomy but thankfully her arrival went exactly to plan and he could breathe calmly once again.

“Hello my Clare-bear, wow, you have another bracelet.” You quirked an eyebrow at Charles as he arrived with Clare’s backpack on his shoulder and her spare carseat under his arm. “Uncle Charles has absolutely spoiled you.”

“Of course. A princess deserves it,” he stated proudly as he placed her belongings down and nodded his head to the simulator. “Is he all ready for the big day?”

“He is, I’m not sure I am,” I admitted as I put Clare down and she immediately went to interrupt Sydney by climbing onto his lap mid-race. If it was anyone else they would have received an earful but he just paused the game and listened as she told him all about her day at Uncle Charles’ house. “God help me when he gets to Formula One, I think I’ll have to revert the car back to a slower predecessor for my own sanity.”

Charles laughed but I wasn’t completely joking. The cars were so much faster than they were when he and PIerre raced. Though the safety features improved along with the technology that made them rockets on wheels it was still difficult to imagine putting my little boy inside one and sending it off.

“You could keep him as a reserve driver,” Charles offered before shaking his head at the thought and taking a seat at the kitchen island. “But he’s stubborn like his father, he’d just find another team to race for.”

“No way, I can at least trust my own team to keep him safe. Same goes for Marc.”

Charles chuckled at the mention of his son who at 8 years old he was already a junior karting champion. “He said someone called him Il Predestinato after his race last weekend.”

“Yikes, I’m sure they meant it in a good way.”

The front door opened again and Addie blew in with all the gusto of a tornado, whipping around the rooms to greet everyone before she was up the stairs to her old room. Entering a little more sedately was my husband, his arms laden with more suitcases than anyone needed for a week away, especially when she still had a wardrobe full of clothes upstairs.

“You are lucky you only have sons,” Pierre said to Charles as he kicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t work out enough anymore to be carrying this shit.”

He dropped the suitcases in front of the elevator and hit the call button rather than carrying them up the stairs before pushing them inside as the door opened. After a few bad winters, where not even the central heating could keep the aches of my bones at bay, Pierre had made the call for the elevator to be installed and it had been a godsend in moments like this when heavy items needed to make it to the floors above.

Sticking his head up the staircase he called out, “Addie, your entire life and everything but the kitchen sink is heading your way.”

“Thanks, dad!”

“What was that about?” I asked after he joined us in the kitchen while the coffee machine churned out our usual drinks. “I thought she outgrew the ‘I’m too cool to hangout with my parents’ phase.”

Pierre's lips pressed together and he took a seat next to Charles, picking up Clare who had left Sydney to return to his practice. “Elias.”

“Vettel?” Charles asked, his eyebrows lifting when Pierre nodded and pushed his mug away so Clare couldn’t reach the hot liquid.

“They have been out on a few dates, apparently. I’ll have to ask Davis about it, assuming he went with them, it’s not like it’s his job or anything. Did you know that?”

I shook my head at the news, cradling my mug in my hands as I leaned against the bench and wondered if she had ditched her bodyguard once again. “He’s a sweet boy from what I remember, much like his father.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t care who his dad is,” Pierre grumbled before repeating, “You are so lucky you only have sons, mate. Teenage girls are stressful.”

“Ah, but I have two boys who think it is funny to have a competition to see who can fart the loudest,” Charles said as he took a sip of his drink.

“I mean, that’s kind of funny,” Pierre said with a smirk.

Charles sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. “Not when one always pushes too hard to win.”

The sip I was taking went the wrong way and I spluttered as Pierre laughed, “It’s all shits and giggles, until someone giggles and shits.”

“To think my poor mother went through this too. Drives me insane, mate. Bet you’ve never had to worry about that?”

“Thankfully, no,” I answered after recovering from choking on coffee. “But it also wasn’t bad enough to stop you from having another.”

“And on that note, I should get going. Mia won’t let me back in the house if I don’t pick up her favourite carbonara on the way home.” He smiled as he thought of his wife’s pregnancy cravings. It was the same one she had when she was carrying Marc and Antonio so it came as no surprise at the gender reveal when the backyard was splattered with blue confetti. “Thank you for letting me borrow Clare.”

“Any time,” Pierre chuckled as he clapped his friend on the back. Charles had been busy reinstalling all the baby gates and safety locks in his home, despite the baby boy not even being born yet, and wanted a toddler to help test his craftsmanship. “I won’t complain about a little free babysitting.”

Charles placed his empty mug in the sink and before kissing the top of Clare’s thick wavy hair. “Bye petite chérie, I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye Uncle Charles,” she said with a wave, but it sounded more like Unk Cha and made him laugh as he approached the simulator.

I saw Sydney pause the race and Charles crouched down beside him, sharing a few quiet words of encouragement for the upcoming debut race. I couldn’t help feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many supportive people and my smile grew as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist.

I turned to meet his lips over my shoulder and the magnetism that attracted us was still evident even after 17 years. Of course, like any relationship, there had been times when stress led to arguments and I would find him hours later in a spare bed, wide awake because he couldn’t sleep without me beside him. Those fights never lasted long enough to even remember what they were about and forgiveness came easy.

I turned in my husband’s arms and draped mine around his neck to admire him. Pierre was truly like a fine wine. Age had made him even more handsome and the small wrinkles at the corners of his lips and eyes were a testament to a life that was full of smiles and laughter.

“Addie said she’ll watch the kids tonight,” Pierre whispered in my ear as he gently swayed to the melodic tune of his voice and I hummed with contentment. “And I got us a table at L'Ambroisie. You’ve been working so hard I thought we could do with a night away, just the two of us.”

“You think I don’t know your game, baby,” I whispered back, all too aware Charles was still chatting with Sydney and imparting some real world advice. “Wine and dine, pretty words, a hotel room. There’s only one thing you want.”

His lips curled into a smile against my cheek. “You know me too well.”

“You would actually get a full night’s sleep if you put your foot down.”

Pierre looked over at Clare who had helped herself to a banana from the fruit bowl and as if sensing she had been caught she looked up with an innocent smile. “How can I tell her no when she looks like that?”

“Mhmm, and that’s why she keeps climbing into our bed. You are a big softy.”

His smirk was flirty and fun as his arms tightened around me, pulling our bodies flush together. His breath was hot on my neck as he hid his face in the curtain of my hair. “Not tonight, ma femme. Tonight you will see just how hard I can be.”

Pierre backed up with a smirk but not before he sucked at the sensitive skin above my racing pulse. He knew exactly what he was doing and the smugness showed as he whistled a little tune on his way to help Clare peel the banana.

Shaking my head, I made my way to the stairs and said goodbye to Charles with the message to remind Mia that our plans for a spa day had been booked - but that didn’t mean he could slack off from the ankle massages he was giving her each night. He gave an amused salut but I didn’t see it as I pressed the button for the elevator. He was well used to the reminders by now, it wasn’t his first rodeo.

Knowing my evening plans had changed I went to my office and shut the door to silence the music drifting down the hall from Addie’s room. As CEO of Gasly Racing there was an endless stream of paperwork to be checked and signed, especially with the new expansion plan for the factory about to break ground. On top of that were the invites to attend fundraisers or speeches to prepare for the various charities I was ambassador for such as Women's Refuge.

When I finally emerged with my inbox up to date I could hear the laughter of all my children from where they lounged in front of the tv and the sound never ceased to make me smile. I had missed the sound since Addie moved out because it was rare to have all five of us here at the same time and I was reluctant to leave even for just one night when it came time to pack an overnight bag.

“We are allowed one night away, mon amour,” Pierre said as he stepped into the master bedroom to see me hesitating to step inside the wardrobe. “You and me, no interruptions.”

I relaxed into his embrace and sighed as he brushed my hair over one shoulder before kissing my collar. “And what were you planning that was so important it couldn’t be interrupted?”

His chuckle sent a shiver of delight down my spine and his fingers trailed down my ribs to the hem of my shirt before they slipped underneath the material to caress the soft skin over my stomach. I had to take a shaky breath when his thumbs caught the waistband of my skirt and I held it as I waited for them to hook underneath.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear and my lips parted in anticipation of his dirty words. “To sleep.”

“Huh?” I blinked twice, peeking over my shoulder to see his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

“To sleep. Why, what were you thinking?” He tried to look innocent but when he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and his hand slipped down beneath my skirt he let the truth show. “Did you want me to tell you how I am dying for a taste of you? How I can’t wait to have these sexy legs wrapped around me when I make love to you tonight? I don’t need to tell you, baby, I’ll show you.”

I knew he could feel how damp my panties were for him from the smirk on his face and I almost whimpered when he withdrew his hand from where I needed it. “Now pack your bag, and make it quick, I’m absolutely ravenous.”

I bit my lip at the depth of his tone and knew exactly what it was he was dying to taste. I didn’t even look at what I was packing, tossing the first items that touched my hands before he stopped me and grabbed one dress instead.

“This one,” he said as he held a colourful sundress that I rarely wore anymore, a soft smile warming his eyes. “It’s my favourite.”

Click here for the final chapter. 🥺

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts @alwaysclassyeagle @dr3lover @adalynneva

#pierre gasly x poc!oc #pierre gasly x oc #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #running from the flames

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fanaticsnail · 6 months

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I remember you mentioned having a Mihawk playlist, and the way you manage to find songs that perfectly fit the vibes of your fics and enhance the reading experience is one of the things I love about your writing

So I was wondering if you could share some of the songs on your playlist? Or even some songs that you associate with certain characters/tropes/scenarios?

I always love it when you send me asks, @sexc-snail.

I absolutely DO have a Mihawk playlist. I share the playlist construction with another creator on Tumblr who I love, cherish and adore: @sordidmusings. We add to it as we write, recommend songs as they come to us to help with words in works.

I could get into a long, long rant about music so I will add a page break here ❤. Lots of song recs to follow for the OPLA cast so far.

I am a violinist; have been playing for 25 years this year (I AM GETTING OLD, JEEPERS CREEPERS). Music is a great, passionate love affair for me and I adore learning about songs and pieces new and old. Here are some recommendations for songs and vibes I associate with the characters and the tropes.

I never add lyrics to my fics so the readers can visualize their own favourite melodies where they see fit, but I do have tunes in mind when I write them. The only fic I've really centralised a song about is the "You Should Be Sad" Mihawk fic I wrote a while back and the Koby series I'm writing.

Here are some song recommendations: all songs are Spotify linked. Enjoy a peek into my madness.

For the Characters

Luffy:

Long Way Home: Walk off the Earth, Lindsay Stirling

Following the Sun: SUPER-Hi, NEEKA

La Isla Bonita: Madonna

Zoro

Work Song: Hozier

Promise: Voyager

Cold Shot: Stevie Ray Vaughan

Sanji

Love Story: Indila

Know You Girls: Franz Ferdinand

Family Line: Conan Grey

Nami (She gets four, because she's amazing and I love her)

Runaway: Aurora

My Mother Told Me: NATI, Cullen Vance, Jonny Stewart

Outside: Ellie Golding, Calvin Harris

Queen of the Kings: Alessandra

Usopp

Mechanical Instinct: Aviators

The Higher Ground: Red Hot Chili Peppers

Eastside: Benny Blanco, Halsey, Khalid

Buggy

Be Your Shadow: The Wombats

Gasoline: Halsey

I Wanna Be Your Slave: Maneskin

Shanks:

The One that Got Away: The Civil Wars

Atlantis: Seafret

Barton Hollow: The Civil Wars

Mihawk

Seven Nation Army: Postmodern Jukebox

My Heart With You: The Rescues

The Snake: Lana Lubany

Koby (He also gets four, because he deserves only good things, and because Morgan Davies is Aussie like me)

Grieve No More: Patty Gurdy

Siuil A Run: Ella Roberts

Mad World: Jasmine Thompson

Again: Flyleaf

Helmeppo

Fighter: Christina Aguilera

Torn: Natalie Imbruglia

Elastic Heart: Sia

Garp

Sharp Dressed Man: ZZ Top

Under a Violet Moon: Blackmores Night

Billie Jean: The Civil Wars

For the Tropes

Unrequitted Love (My all time favourite thing)

Wrecking Ball: Beth

Can't Help Falling in Love: Tommee Profitt, Brooke

I Found: Amber Run

Comptine d'un autre ete l'apres-midi: Yann Tierson

Derniere Danse: Indila

Only in my Mind: Kenya Grace

Over and Over: Three Days Grace

Broken Pieces: Apocalyptica Lacey

Too Close: Alex Clare

Stupid Heart: Sorana

Enemies to Lovers

FMLYHM: Sether

Closer: NIN

Hella Good: No Doubt

Play With Fire: Sam Tinnesz, Yacht Money

Why'd You Only Ever Call Me When You're High: Arctic Monkeys

For when they give into their feelings:

Surrender: Natalie Taylor

As the World Caves In: Sarah Cothran

Freeze You Out: Marina Kaye

Say Yes To Heaven: Lana Del Rey

For when they give up but feelings are still there

Lose you to love me: Selena Gomez

Liar: Camilla Cabello

Darkside: Alan Walker

Say My Name: David Guetta, Bebe Rexha, J Balvin

Only Love Can Hurt Like This: Paloma Faith

I See Red: Everybody Loves an Outlaw

If you made it this far, thank you. This was a labour of love. Happy listening ❤

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female-malice · 5 months

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In the early morning hours of April 22, 2021 – Earth Day – nine women aged between 20 and 68 turned up at the Canary Wharf branch of HSBC carrying hammers and chisels. Wearing patches that read “better broken windows than broken promises”, they proceeded to smash the building’s windows, before sitting down on the pavement to await arrest. The Met were called at 7:10am, and before long all nine women were arrested on suspicion of causing criminal damage.

The nine were Jessica Agar, Blyth Brentnall, Valerie Brown, Gully Bujak, Miriam Instone, Tracey Mallaghan, Susan Reid, Samantha Smithson and Clare Farrell, co-founder of Extinction Rebellion (XR). As members of XR, they were taking action against HSBC pumping £80 billion into fossil fuels investments in the five years following the Paris Climate Agreement, going directly against the pledge to keep global temperature rise below 1.5 degrees.

Their trial started in October, with all nine pleading not guilty. Amazingly, Farrell let go of her lawyer, deciding to self-represent, writing and delivering the closing remarks in court herself. “It’s painful for me to be part of a society so immoral, so off track, it is set to destroy the next generation, and billions of lives are likely to be lost on the current course, and my heart asks me to do the work which has the best chance of affecting a change of course,” she said to jurors. “Never before has there been such grave responsibility on a generation of people to succeed in such dire circumstances. It’s beyond serious – we have all the information and there is no room for failure, every day counts.”

On November 16, over two years since the HSBC protest, jurors found all nine women not guilty. Below, we speak to Farrell about the outcome of the trial, taking inspiration from the suffragettes, and the importance of faith within the climate justice movement.

During the trial, you decided to ultimately let go of lawyers and self-represent. How did you come to that decision?

Clare Farrell: Well, I kept a lawyer at the beginning and I delivered my defence with a lawyer asking me questions. But I sacked him – and I’ve sacked him before, so he doesn’t mind, it’s fine! – just before we went into the summing up, which is the closing part of the trial. I did that because I wanted to be able to address the jury again myself, and if you’re represented by a lawyer or a barrister, they have to do the summing up for you. As activists we do this work to speak truth, and I think some people find it quite difficult to be represented – they feel that they should be taking responsibility themselves, and they also feel they have a lot to say.

I saw that during the action against HSBC you wore patches which read ‘better broken windows than broken promises’, which is a phrase coined by the suffragettes. Do you think Extinction Rebellion and the suffragettes have much in common?

Clare Farrell: Yeah – well, I hope so! We were very inspired by the movements of the past when we set up XR, and the suffrage movement is obviously a relatively recent story of radical political success in this country’s history. Also, the Chartists broke windows before them, so I saw it as part of a tradition or lineage in British political life and history.

What’s also interesting for me is how present the suffrage movement felt in our trial because we had the colour scheme – the white, purple and green – and those patches. Those things were raised in the courtroom because they were there on the day, they were part of the action. So I felt greatly supported by the suffragettes in a strange kind of way while I was on trial.

You said in your speech that the prosecution didn’t dispute that the climate crisis is making the world “totally uninhabitable for hundreds of millions of people”. Was this a bit jarring for you, given that you were essentially on trial for trying to address the climate crisis issue?

Clare Farrell: I think this is what’s really difficult about the way that these trials are happening in the court system at the moment. Because the judge said very clearly, this is not a case about the climate crisis; they said this is going to be a case about the defences that are available through the Criminal Damage Act. Did they do the damage? If yes, have they got an excuse? If they can convince you they had a lawful excuse under this little thing called ‘belief in consent’, you can let them off. If they can’t, then they’re guilty.

You’re trying to speak to a bigger picture, which is being somewhat described as irrelevant by the court system, but obviously, it is the entire point of what we’re talking about. So there’s a real paradox at play. We were very lucky, because the judge let us make arguments based on two other defences, which included ‘necessity’, which is when an action is to prevent death and serious injury, and ‘protection of property’, the idea being I was damaging some property to protect some other property. And then there was ‘belief in consent’. So when we gave our evidence, we had to speak to all of those three defences. Then at the end, he took two of them off the table, but a lot of people don’t get given that room to talk.

There’s another trial coming up in February, for other people who broke windows. They have a different judge, and it’s actually a judge who has put people in prison before for talking about climate change to a jury. So if he deems it irrelevant, those people could have a completely different experience, even though they’ve basically done the same thing, but on a different day at a different bank.

It shows us that when the jury has a chance to hear what you have to say, they understand the seriousness and the efficacy of this kind of action when you’re in an emergency. If they’re not allowed to hear any of that, then it’s very easy for a judge to say, ‘well, look, that’s them on the video, they broke the window, it wasn’t legal, you just have to find them guilty’. And then that’s that. So it really depends on the day that you get arrested, the day that your court gets listed, which judge it is, which police officers are there, which prosecution barristers you’ve got, which jurors you’ve got… the whole system is very unpredictable.

How did you feel when you heard that you were found not guilty?

Clare Farrell: I just cried. I was grabbing hold of the desk, gripping the table. And I cried. I’ve never been through anything like it in my life. The whole process of the trial was just so hard on [my] soul and body and everything. It’s physically hard, it’s emotionally hard, and it’s kind of made worse by the fact that it’s so fucking boring, because most of the time nothing is happening.

Also, you can’t tell from looking at a jury what they’re going to do. You spend weeks looking at these people from across the room and thinking, ‘I really hope you like me’! On the day when the verdict came, it was remarkable that they were only out for two hours. That’s not very long, because they had to decide on nine defendants so they’d have had to discuss each person individually, at least a little bit. So they must have really been pretty sure about what they wanted to do. The person who read out names and said ‘not guilty’ seemed very pleased to say it, to put it like that! And there was one juror who was leaning back in his chair with his arms folded and grinning, because he was obviously really happy to let us off.

What would you say to critics of Extinction Rebellion, who are maybe more sceptical and don’t believe that radical action can result in progress? Or maybe don’t believe that there’s a climate issue at all?

Clare Farrell: I would hope that our trial has shown where ordinary people’s heads are at. It proves that the reality we live in – in terms of what’s being done at a corporate level, and what’s being done at a government level, and the rhetoric of Rishi Sunak – I hope that this is just proof that all of that is completely out of step with the general public. The general public don’t want their kids to die. They don’t want to live in a world that collapses. More and more people realise that that is precisely what is gonna happen. And they don’t want it!

I think there’s something to be said for these kinds of actions which can be an awakening for people. People are always complaining about tactics, saying people don’t like being disrupted or they don’t like what you’re doing because it’s annoying – but if you can see that someone’s in mortal danger, it’s very normal to want to tell them. I think it’s also proof that when people spend the time having an in-depth conversation about what’s taking place, there’s no question in people’s minds about what is the right thing to do. I hope so, anyway.

I hope so too. Those are actually all the questions that I had, but is there anything else that you’d like to add?

Clare Farrell: One thing which is on my mind a lot at the moment has to do with faith. I’m not a religious person, but my reflections since the trial have been quite a lot about how faith exists for me and also how it seems to be very lacking in our wider society in Britain. We live in a materialist, cynical context, which is enormously problematic because I’ve spoken to a lot of people over the last six years who’ve said to me, ‘it’s nice for you to try, but realistically, you’re never going to win – it’s too big, it’s too difficult, the power is too entrenched’. I feel like one of the key requirements for us is to find a sense of faith and in that understanding ourselves to be part of a greater whole, and not just discreet little beings that are separate from one another.

I feel really extremely lucky to have had an experience like this where we were able to win a trial and go home and think, ‘oh, right, what do I do now?’, because I thought I was gonna be in prison for Christmas. What do we do with our freedom?

The HSBC 9 are crowdfunding to cover their remaining legal costs and raise money for other activist groups’ legal costs. You can donate here. You can also read an open letter written in support of the HSBC 9 here.

#cc

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trans-axolotl · 11 months

Text

Image description: [Screenshots of pages from Brilliant Imperfection by Eli Clare. Text reads:

Your Suicide Haunts me.

Bear, it’s been over a decade since you killed yourself, and still I want to howl. I feel anguish and rage rattling down at the bottom of my lungs, pressing against my rib cage. If ever my howling erupts, I will take it to schoolyards and churches, classrooms and prisons, homes where physical and sexual violence lurk as common as mealtime. I know many of us need to wail. Together we could shatter windows, bring bullies and perpetrators to their knees, stop shame in its tracks.

Once a week, maybe once a month, I learn of another suicide. They’re friends of friends, writers and dancers who have bolstered me, activists I’ve sat in meetings with, kids from the high school down the road, coworkers and acquaintances, news stories and Facebook posts. They’re queer, trans, disabled, chronically ill, youth, people of color, poor, survivors of abuse and violence, homeless. They’re too many to count.

Bear, will you call their names with me? It’s become a queer ritual, this calling of the names—all those dead of AIDS and breast cancer, car accidents and suicide, hate violence and shame, overdoses and hearts that just stop beating. The names always begin wave upon wave, names filling conference halls, church basements, city parks. Voices call one after another, overlapping, clustering, then coming apart, a great flock of songbirds, gathering to fly south, wheeling and diving—this cloud of remembrance. Then quiet. I think we’re done, only to have another voice call, then two, then twenty. We fill the air for thirty minutes, an hour, a great flock of names. Tonight, will you sit with me? Because, Bear, I can’t sleep.

I remember your smile, your kindness, your compassionate and fierce politics. I remember our long e-mail conversations about being disabled and trans. I remember a brilliant speech you gave at True Spirit, a trans gathering in Washington, DC. I remember you telling me about how you’d disappear for months at a time when your life became grim, how you’d do anything not to go to a psych hospital again. I remember your handsome Black queer trans disabled working-class self. And then, you were gone.

The details of your death haunt me. You had checked yourself in. You were on suicide watch. I imagine your desperation and suffering. I know racism, transphobia, classism colluded. The nurses and aides didn’t follow their own protocols, not bothering to check on you every fifteen minutes. You were alive and sleeping at 5:00 a.m. and dead at 7:00 a.m.; at least that’s what their records say. Did despair clog your throat, panic coil in your intestines? In those last moments, what lingered on your tongue? I know about your death as fleetingly as your life.

Bear, I’d do almost anything to have you alive here and now, anything to stave off your death. But what did you need then? Drugs that worked? A shrink who listened and was willing to negotiate the terms of your confinement with you? A stronger support system? An end to shame and secrecy? As suffering and injustice twisted together through your body-mind, what did you need?

I could almost embrace cure without ambivalence if it would have sustained your life. But what do I know? Maybe your demons, the roller coaster of your emotional and spiritual self, were so much part of you that cure would have made no sense. You wrote not long before your death, “In a world that separates gender, I have found the ability to balance the blending of supposed opposites. In a world that demonizes non-conformity, I have found the purest spiritual expression in celebrating my otherness.”

Yes, Bear. I know that truth. Your otherness was a beautiful braid— your hard-earned trans manhood looping into your Black self, wrapped in working-class smarts and resilience, woven into disability, threaded with queerness. I saw you last in an elevator at True Spirit. You told me that you were spending the weekend hanging out with trans men of color. I can still see your gleeful smile, sparkling eyes.

Friend, what would have made your life possible with all its aches and sorrows? I ask as someone who has gripped the sheer cliff face of suicide more than once. Calling the names exhausts me. Your death exhausts me. The threat, reality, fact of suicide exhausts me. Its arrival on the back of shame and isolation exhausts me. Bear, will you come sit beside me tonight? I’m too exhausted to sleep.]

From Brilliant Imperfection: Grappling with Cure by Eli Clare, pages 63-64.

This passage has stuck with me since I first read it and I find myself returning over and over, especially in the times I want to be gentle to my grief.

Thought I'd share it with you all right now <3

#personal #suicide tw #psych wards tw #grief #disability justice #psych abolition #mad liberation #mad pride #antipsych #recommend this book so so so much. dm me if you want a pdf #poetry #trans

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acourtofthought · 10 months

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Love - SJM Style

Obviously the actual falling in love part is amazing but before her characters get to that point, we have a lot of this:

Rowaelin -

You are a child, and a spoiled one at that. And,” he said, those green eyes holding nothing but distaste, “you are a coward.”

And then she said one of the foulest things she’d ever uttered in her life, bathing in the pure hate of it. “Fae like you make me understand the King of Adarlan’s actions a bit more, I think.”

“First thing,” he breathed, “we’re not friends. I’m still training you, and that means you’re still under my command.”

Chaol / Yrene -

You didn’t seem to mind the privileges that came when you snapped your fingers and Kashin ran here. Perhaps he’ll grow tired of you stringing him along.”

“You’d be surprised the people that opiate makes you consider. Who you’ll find yourself willing to sully yourself with.”

“Did she pick Dorian, then? The queen. I’m surprised she could stomach either of you, given your history. What your kingdom did to hers.”

“Yet you were assigned to me because your Healer on High saw otherwise. Saw that no matter how high you climbed in that tower, you’re still that girl in Fenharrow.” A laugh came out of him, icy and bitter. “I knew another woman who lost as much as you. And do you know what she did with it—that loss?” He could barely stop the words from pouring out, could barely think over the roar in his head. “She hunted down the people responsible for it and obliterated them. What the hell have you bothered to do these years?”

Aedion / Lysandra -

She knew Aedion would agree to the plan, even if he still hated her.

“You can go to hell,” Aedion snapped. “You can go to hell, you lying bitch!”

Lorcan / Elide -

Aelin had been brutalized, their very location betrayed by Lorcan to Maeve, and still he tried to follow. Right through the sand still wet with Aelin’s blood.

Elide let out a soft, vicious laugh. “Of course you didn’t. Why would you have intended for your wondrous queen to sever the blood oath?”

Lorcan blinked at the words, the hatred in them, stunned enough that he let her walk past this time. Elide didn’t so much as look back.

“The only thing that I am jealous of, Lorcan, is that she is rid of you.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. But Elide’s face did not warm. “I don’t care,” she said, turning on her heel. “And I don’t care if you walk off that battlefield tomorrow.”

“I have never heard Lorcan apologize for anything. Even when Maeve whipped him for a mistake, he did not apologize to her.” “And that means he earns my forgiveness?”

Quinlar -

“She’s a spoiled party girl. What did you expect?” “She’s not stupid, Hunt,” Isaiah countered. “Everything I’ve seen and heard suggests otherwise.”

His teeth flashed. “I don’t care what you call me, Quinlan, so long as you do what you’re told.” Fucking alphahole. “Immortality is a long time to have a giant stick up your ass.”

Feysand -

Rhysand ran an eye over me. “I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned.

Even as he said my most private thoughts, even as I burned with outrage and shame, I trembled at the grip still on my mind.

I stared at him, sending as much hate as I could into my gaze. He’d been the one who’d caused all this. He’d told Amarantha about Clare; he’d made Tamlin beg.

I bared my teeth. “Go. To. Hell.” Swift as lightning, he lashed out, grabbing the shard of bone in my arm and twisting. A scream shattered out of me, ravaging my aching throat. The world flashed black and white and red. I thrashed and writhed, but he kept his grip, twisting the bone a final time before releasing my arm. Panting, half sobbing as the pain reverberated through my body, I found him smirking at me again. I spat in his face.

“Don’t get me started on what you did to me Under the Mountain.”

“I didn’t ask for your approval.”

“I think we can agree that I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing.”

“I’m not your enemy, Feyre.” “Tamlin says you are.” I curled the fingers of my tattooed hand into a fist. “Everyone else says you are.” “And what do you think?” He leaned back in his chair again, but his face was grave. “You’re doing a damned good job of making me agree with them.”

“No, because it’s so much easier to pretend it never happened and let them coddle you.”

“Luck? Yes, how lucky for you,” I said quietly, but not weakly, “that the rest of Prythian was ravaged while your people, your city, remained safe.”

His laugh was bitter, soft. “I thought so. Perhaps you should take some time to figure that out one of these days.”

“At least I let them see who I am, broken bits and all. Yes—it’s to save your people. But what about the other masks, Rhys? What about letting your friends see your real face? But maybe it’s easier not to. Because what if you did let someone in? And what if they saw everything, and still walked away? Who could blame them—who would want to bother with that sort of mess?”

Nessian -

“What are you looking at?” Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

“If that’s what a bastard-born Fae warrior can do, no wonder my sister has become so entangled with the High Lords.” Bitch. Bitch for the insult to him and to Feyre. “Did it bother you more that you wanted it, or that it was a bastard-born nobody who made you feel such things, Nesta?” “It’s been a long winter. Beggars can’t be picky, I suppose.”

What did he care? What did he care? He had enough shit to deal with.

“And what do you deserve?” A slow smile, indeed a plains-cat readying for the kill. Then, “Certainly more than a bastard-born nobody.” Bitch. “What a fne partner you are, Nesta. Remind me to bring a book on military strategy the next time. Maybe you’ll stand a chance then.” A cold, fat look. “It’s easier, isn’t it,” Cassian breathed, crossing the distance again, not caring who saw them standing in the bay window “To wield the words and the coldness as armor to keep everyone from seeing where and who you failed and how you did not care until it was too late.”

Only hatred gleamed in her eyes.

“Well, I see it, Nesta Archeron. And all I see is a bored and spoiled girl—”

“Is it Nesta?” “Not everything in my life is about your sister, you know.”

Nesta had made it clear enough she had no interest in Cassian—not even in being in the same room as him.

“I’ve made my thoughts clear enough on what I want from you.”

He didn’t know why the hell he cared. Why he’d bothered.

She’d made it clear enough in those initial days after that last battle that she wanted nothing to do with him.

“I was dragged into this world of yours, this court.” “Then go somewhere else.”

“Stop following me. Stop trying to haul me into your happy little circle. Stop doing all of it.”

“Your sisters love you. I can’t for the life of me understand why, but they do. If you can’t be bothered to try for my happy little circle’s sake, then at least try for them.”

“You think I can’t hear that male in your bedroom, trying to quietly put on his clothes and sneak out the window?”

Elucien are coming along quite nicely -

“You betrayed us.”

Her eyes went frank and cold. “I was to be married in a few days.”

“She wants nothing to do with me.” / And as for here …” He shook off my grip and headed for the door. “I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes.

“You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?”

“He brought you a present.” Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“Where’s Elain?” “I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #feysand #nessian #mating bond #rowan and aelin #elorcan #sarah j mass #elain x lucien #lucien and elain

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madamepestilence · 3 days

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A PSA on American Politics

My blog has largely become an America-centric political blog, especially regarding the US 2024 election. I've made a few posts about it, as well as a video essay. (Note: Claudia de la Cruz is no longer a viable candidate; I'll explain in this thread.)

I'm going to speak to y'all directly now.

The Democrats. The Anarchists. The Communists. The Socialists.

Listen to me.

The whole Vote Blue No Matter Who method is only supporting fascism. I'm not sugarcoating it: Biden is a fascist, people who vote for him are voting for fascism, and if you're voting for Biden just because you're scared of Trump winning the election, you are a fucking coward.

I know I'm going to get flak for that, but it needs to be said - I'm not babying Democrats and fellow leftists. We're grown-ass adults and we need to strategize like adults. Both Trump and Biden are fascists; this isn't about, "minimizing the damage," this is about preventing fascism.

So what is my plan? Do I have solutions? Yes, I do, and here they are:

Part I: The 2024 US Presidential Election

Don't vote for Biden. Don't refuse to vote either - anyone who tells you voting is useless is trying to deceive you.

Vote for third party Independent presidential candidate Dr. Cornel West, Ph.D.. Dr. West is a triple-college-educated self-described non-Marxist Socialist candidate for the 2024 US presidential election.

You may initially have your doubts for a few reasons, so let me assuage them for you.

Whataboutism A: What about Trump and Biden?

Biden is not any better than Trump. Trump openly admits his racism, sexism, xenophobia, etc. because the Republican party no longer needs to hide these factors.

We live in a state in which the Democratic party will constantly try to compromise with the Republican party, and the Republican party has had such a significant portion of their party indoctrinated into the alt-right that it's their political base now.

See: (YouTube:) Innuendo Studios: The Alt-Right Playbook: The Death of a Euphemism

Biden just continues using euphemisms to hide his fascist rhetoric. Biden is also directly monetarily and militarily supporting a fascist apartheid colony -- Israel-occupied-Palestine -- who are committing a holocaust in Palestine.

He has also supported known fascist political figures, such as the known fascist Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni. Trump and Biden are both fascists - the only difference is how openly they admit their fascism.

We cannot let this system continue. In the modern United States, the American Democratic and Republican parties effectively have the same goals. The Democratic party may claim that it wants progressivism, but it has shown quite the contrary.

Democrats get elected by comparing themselves to the Republican party by being, "not as bad," while Republicans have to come up with increasingly jarring reasons for election - as, the Republican party already achieved their past goals, and have to move the goalposts - and make implications that the Democratic party is not advocating for drastic enough nationalism.

Capitalism and fascism are compatible with each other, as are the primary American politics parties - they are malleable and are merging into fascism. This is the main danger of neoliberalism.

See: (YouTube:) Innuendo Studios: (The Alt-Right Playbook:) Endnote 2: White Fascism

For that matter - I would not be surprised if Biden uses the lukewarm world war occurring right now--

(and yes, I'm calling it that - there are global efforts to support Palestine, embargoes against Israel-occupied-Palestine, polarization about Palestine and Israel-occupied-Palestine, a war in West Asia spearheaded by Israel-occupied-Palestine, Iran is bombing Israel-occupied-Palestine for their genocidal fascism, Iran directly threatened the US if the US retaliates for Iran's anti-fascist action, and even Irish Member of Parliament Clare Daly directly called out Biden for fascism and claimed that Ireland disowned him)

--to declare emergency powers to gain an, "emergency," term (fascist dictatorship). If Trump gets elected, he would also have the possibility of doing the same.

We are entering fascism. It needs to be stopped.

Whataboutism B: What about the Spoiler Effect?

The Spoiler Effect is largely a concern I've been presented with by cowards who want to vote for fascist US president Biden in the 2024 election.

Historically, the Spoiler Effect hasn't really been a problem in the US. Our election system may be the worst election system currently in use, but people have been so focused on the parties they care for that it hasn't really been an issue.

Furthermore, most people have a drastic misunderstanding of how the Spoiler Effect works. People assume that because the Republican and Democratic parties are currently in power that there are no other options.

This is not how elections work or have historically worked in the United States.

When parties have fallen out of favour in the US, they have historically been replaced by different parties. This has happened multiple times.

See: (Wikipedia:) United States presidential election § Electoral college results

and compare to

See: (Wikipedia:) List of United States presidential elections by popular vote margin § Timeline

to see the drastic and broad revisionist application of, "Republican," and, "Democrat," to refer to multiple different parties.

If you're completely unfamiliar with the concept of the Spoiler Effect (or are just interested in viewing alternative voting systems),

See: (YouTube:) Primer: Simulating alternate voting systems

With this in mind, and with our collective agreement that the Democratic party does not have the interests of the people in mind, we can fucking replace the Democratic party with an actually leftist party.

Independent leftists, the Communist Party USA, the Revolutionary Communist Party USA, the Party for Socialism and Liberation, even a new leftist party (that might even merge the leftist front into a Commu-Socialist Party) -- any leftist party vs. the Republican party?

It will lay bare to the world once anew what a Leftist vs. Fascist party system looks like.

Remember the drastic contrast between the German Democratic Republic (a real socialist country) vs. Nazi Germany (who, by the way, were masquerading themselves as socialists because it was popular, despite initially building camps for communists)?

Let's not let the fascists in power again. A truly leftist America is the only way to the future. Fuck your moderate politics.

We have a problem right now and we need drastic change right now, not gentle fidgeting while we compromise with fascists and let people suffer in the meantime.

Also See: (YouTube:) Innuendo Studios: The Alt-Right Playbook: Always a Bigger Fish

Whataboutism C: What about Gerrymandering?

I'm gonna keep this one short and blunt: Not voting is only going to reinforce gerrymandering. Vote your fucking representatives out and get better representatives. End of.

Whataboutism D: What about Claudia de la Cruz and the Party for Socialism and Liberation?

To be blunt, De la Cruz has not shaken up enough support to cause the national news concern. Dr. West has.

It's even gotten to a point where national news have been trying to avoid discussing Dr. West -- as it keeps increasing support for him -- to instead discuss known fascist candidate Robert F. Kennedy, Jr..

On a secondary note, the PSL has an internal Conservative 5th Column, and has frequent issues with discrimination.

This runs the risk that De la Cruz may be a Republican plant, and even if she's not, the PSL is not currently the kind of party we want to put in power.

Whataboutism E: What about known fascist Harlan Crow?

For those unfamiliar, I've received complaints about Dr. West's campaign receiving funding from known fascist Harlan Crow. The primary person who shook up a stir wanted an explanation from Dr. West, and apparently didn't look for one.

This amounted to... $3,300. That's not much.

Crow donated $500 directly to now-dropout Republican presidential candidate Chris Christie, as well as a whopping $100,000 to Chris Christie's political action committee, Tell It Like It Is.

Dr. West only received about 30% of the equivalent donation Crow granted to Christie. Dr. West has a history of interacting with another Conservative, Robert P. George.

During his life, Dr. West's beliefs have not changed and he's wisely using the system he's been placed in -- and taking advantage of smaller Conservative news media as a pinging board to get airtime on national news media -- without being bought out.

Dr. Cornel West actually directly responded to these concerns, having directly argued that any donations he have will not have any strings attached, and that he cannot be bought out.

Whataboutism F: What about poseur politics?

To be fair, I haven't seen a single person bring this up, but I have no doubt this worry is sitting in the back of people's minds. I'd like to assuage this concern pre-emptively.

Dr. West is fortunately not a poseur. Dr. West has a long history of participating in leftist politics, including, but not limited to:

Civil rights protests inspired by the Black Panthers and Malcolm X in his teenage youth

Supporting social spaces in neglected areas such as prisons and churches

Becoming the first black person to graduate from Princeton University with a Doctorate of Philosophy (Ph.D.) with a dissertation called Ethics, Historicism, and the Marxist Tradition (later renamed to The Ethical Dimensions of Marxist Thought)

Protests and divestment to help free apartheid South Africa

Participating in the Million Man March

Being arrested for protesting the shooting of Michael Brown

Being the senior advisor for 2000 Democratic candidate Bill Bradley, then Green Party candidate Ralph Nader

Obstructing the front of the US State Department in protest of Israel-occupied-Palestine's oppression of Palestine in 2000, including similar free Palestine protests in 2007 and 2011

Being an advisor for 2004 Democratic candidate Al Sharpton

Being arrested for participating in the 2011 Occupy D.C. and Harlem Wall Street protests

Affiliating with the Revolutionary Communist Party USA in 2014 and directly contributing to the formation of the Stop Mass Incarceration Network

Rescinding support for Barack Obama in 2014 after realizing his imperialist tendencies

Participating in 2017 counter-protests against the Unite The Right Rally, in which he directly commented that Antifa saved their lives

You don't have to worry about Dr. West being a poseur. He's been doing this for a long time.

Whataboutism G: What about Project 2025?

If you believe that winning a single election is going to make the fascists spontaneously give up on Project 2025 -- which you're likely basing on the specific year in the project's name -- you are a fool.

They're going to continually attempt it until they succeed. We can't let fascists into power, and this includes Biden.

Vote for Dr. Cornel West.

Whataboutism H: What about Ballot Access?

Dr. West has actually been very intelligent with how he's working for ballot access across the US. However, it's not a magic black box - you as a voter need to actively help him get ballot access.

If you don't know how to do that, Dr. West has a website with an interactive US state map, which include instructions for how many votes are required to gain ballot access in each state.

Dr. West also provided the actual necessary legal documents to gain signatures, instructions for how to get votes from people, and even created political propaganda -- both free and merchandising -- to help raise awareness for Dr. West's political action.

He was also wise with how he's gathering ballot access. In states where Independent candidates have an actual chance of ballot access, he's remained Independent.

In states where it's not really possible, he's either joined a local leftist party, or created a new party called the Justice for All Party, which allows him party backing for ballot access.

With this process, Dr. West has successfully already gained ballot access in 5 states: Oregon, Utah, Alaska, Colorado, and South Carolina.

If Dr. West is creating events, he has a page where he show's he's going, of which he's already done many nationally. Alternatively, if you'd like to create your own, he also has a page where you can host campaign-approved volunteer events.

If you're wondering about how well Dr. West listens to people, he largely interacts with any news media - even if it's small - to discuss his campaign and beliefs. I also reported some broken links on their website, and within a few days all of the reported links were prepared.

Dr. Cornel West will make an ideal socialist president.

Part II: Legislative, Judicial, and Local Elections

We cannot let this start and end at presidential elections. We need to seize power in all parts of politics.

Affiliate yourself with leftist parties - or create your own - and run for local elections. It's become clear that socialism is extremely popular in the US right now, and the US has a rich history of socialism.

See: (YouTube:) Second Thought: America's Forgotten Socialist History

We also need to go past that. We need to seize power in the legislative and judicial branches of the US, in that order. Using those same leftist parties, get leftists elected into positions within Congress and the House of Representatives, and push the US into majority leftist legislative power.

Once this has been achieved, we need to combine a leftist president with the majority leftist Congress and House to pass legislation to create term limits for the Supreme Court.

We can then have further legislation passed for SC Justices to be elected by the common people, rather than fucking appointed by whoever happens to be the current president.

This can let us fill the Supreme Court with more leftists, and having seized all three branches of government, we can begin major modifications to the US Constitution - or even retiring it for a new US Constitution - to initiate the socialist age of the US.

Whataboutism I: What about the history of attempts of Socialism/Communism?

Hakim, a West Asian leftist YouTuber, has excellent videos on what actually caused the fall of the Soviet Union, the mistakes of former socialist attempts, a response to a worldbuilder's assumptions about why (socialist) revolutions fail, and instructions for how new leftists can contribute to modern socialism.

(Also, if you're just looking for more blatantly leftist YouTubers, I also recommend Slavic leftist Yugopnik.)

Also See: (YouTube:) Sisyphus 55: The Revolution Will Not Be Uploaded (Also has a donation fund for the Palestine Children's Relief Fund)

Part III: Micronations

Wait, what?

I don't know how much they're going to really help, but it doesn't hurt to have alternatives in the event the US fully sinks into a fascist dictatorship.

If you lead or participate in a leftist micronation, establish mutual recognition and trade routes with other micronations and work on true independence that doesn't rely on the US's assistance (water, plumbing, electricity, internet, etc.).

Utilize your lack of recognition as a country to have dual citizenship, where you can provide for your citizens, but also, more importantly:

PARTICIPATE IN AMERICAN ELECTIONS.

Being a part of a micronation does not absolve you from your duty as an American citizen to fucking vote. Vote in local elections and vote in national elections. Get. Leftists. In. Power.

Micronations are the backup plan in the event of an emergency as a point of resistance against state oppression.

Prioritize voting in American elections. Vote for leftists.

Vote for Cornel West for the 2024 US presidential election.

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halfmoondaze · 1 year

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College au

“Hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you”

“Well…here I am”

“Y/N”

“Yeah?”

“You know what time it is”

“I don’t know, 9:30?”

“It’s 3 a.m.”

“What?”

“Are you aware it’s the first week of the semester? What reason could you have to be at the library right now?"

“Well, not all of us are as talented and good looking as you to be entertainers. So, I’m trying to get ahead of my assignments”

“Well, there’s no need to be jealous”

“Yeah, right”

“Got a lot done?”

“Not really….I keep getting spooked by those weird shadows in the library hallways…I think turns out the rumors of the Clare Hall being hunted are true after all”

“Ok, I think your losing your grip on reality” he said closing your book. “Let’s call it a night, I’ll take you home”

It was clear you and Jack were a very unlikely match, according to everyone else. It made sense considering you were reserved and shy while Jack was charming and outgoing.

You and Jack met in your first year of college. This one night, you were dragged by your friends tot his Halloween party at one of the frat houses. Jack who didn't attended to college, but would rather frequently perform there, would attend to a few of the parties with Urban. And after someone announced the cops were there, you found yourself running to the nearest 7/11 with some of your friends, and Jack and Urban. Following that unlikely encounter, you and Jack remained in touch and hung out whenever he was in town.

And then, came that one November night. A few weeks prior, Jack let you know he was going to be in town and came to campus as soon as he arrived. Even though, he was touring most of the time, he made sure to see you whenever he was in Louisville. He arrived at campus around noon, and by the afternoon, a snowstorm started. So now you and Jack found yourselves stuck.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry about that” he said sarcastically making light of the situation.

“It’s ok. I’ve been through worse”

He laughed.

You spend the rest of the day playing scrabble while chatting the night around, until Jack noticed the tired look on your face.

“Tired?”

You nodded in response.

Then without saying a word, he placed a pillow on the floor, and started looking for a throw to use; when you stop him on his tracks”

“Jack don’t be silly. There’s enough space in my bed. Besides, you’ll probably freeze to dead on the floor”

“You’re shivering” he said pulling you into his chest.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to invade your personal space”

“Don’t be ridiculous, just get yourself comfortable”

“Aww look at you. Looking out for me and shit”

“Don’t get used to it” you said jokingly.

Eventually the two of you drifted to sleep, up until you started shivering.

Then for a brief moment, which felt like an eternity; the two of you got lost into each other’s eyes; and then you kissed. And that was the moment you knew, you it was over for everyone else. You just wanted him. He started leaning in and so did you. Then his soft lips kissed yours; a for a brief moment, the world stopped.

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cannonball5 · 2 years

Text

My head canons for the Girls post graduation:

Spoilers Obviously

First James and Erin were dating in 3x07 and no one can convince me otherwise. Erin and James dated until the end of summer. They were each other’s firsts for a lot of things. Their first “I love you” happens in the middle of their first real fight as a couple. They were each other’s first time which happened about 5 minutes after their first fight. They both got into different Universities and so agreed to break up before leaving for school so they don’t strain their relationships with their friends since they won’t see them as much now (I imagine a last kiss at the train station as one of them boards).

Erin goes to school and studies English and Literature. She gets a job at a publishing house after graduating from University and continues her writing (she will often try to slip her manuscripts to her bosses). She started to focus on YA fantasy when Harry Potter blew up and Erin frequently calls J.K. Rowling her “Nemesis.”

James goes to school in London for University but also because he finds out his mom’s pregnant by her new husband (James didn’t even know she remarried). He decides to be close by to give his new sibling at least a partially stable “Parental Figure.” He decides to Major in Film but also takes a minor in business. Not long after graduating he goes over to his mom’s to find out she’s packed and gone on a vacation with her new boyfriend and that she’ll be “back in a month, tops.” James realizes almost immediately she’s packed all her stuff and probably isn’t coming back anytime soon. Knowing he can’t care for both himself and his little sister (plot twist his mom’s horrible) James moves back to Derry. When he moves back he buys one of Dennis’s old shops and makes it into a nerd paraphernalia store. It does well even before the Doctor Who revival because it hosts regular movie nights showing films sooner than even theaters thanks to some old film school friends.

Orla decides to travel after graduating. She packs a bag (of mostly sweets) and over the next 5 years travels the world. She steps foot on every continent (when she visited Antarctica she had to be stopped from smuggling penguins in her bags), she learned self defense fighting from multiple sources, discovered she’s a prodigy in Yoga, met Kamal when she was in Africa, fought in underground fight clubs, accidentally started a cult, and at one point assisted MI6 with an operation (she may or may not be an inspiration for a Bond Girl). After getting back home she told her stories to Erin who used them as inspiration for a moderately successful YA series. Also Orla is never hurting for money as she apparently partially owns the rights to several international hit songs and movies. She currently owns a Yoga studio with an Ice Cream/Sweets shop attached.

Clare after being in therapy to help with her grief and anxiety she became fascinated by the human mind and started studying psychology. She eventually becomes a therapist and opens a practice back home. While she deals in all matters of mental health she specializes mostly in anxiety. A few years after opening her practice she also starts a Help Line for LGBTQ+ kids and teens (it’s her proudest accomplishment). Clare also starts dating the manager she hired to run the help line. They’ve been living together since 2011 and were engaged in 2012. They adopted 3 kids (2 girls and a boy) as well as 2 cats before they officially got married in 2020.

Michelle lost focus a bit after graduating. With her friends gone she didn’t know what to do. She became a bartender and was actually pretty good at it (she also likes to joke she’s doing what Clare wants to do without the fancy degree and she gets to drink when she does it). After a few years slinging drinks she realizes she wants more out of life. After spending time with her brother Michelle decides to get involved with the Justice system. She starts taking night classes studying pre-law and while she is struggling to find a law school she has a chat with her mom and decides to change course. Her mom asks her how she wants to help people and tells Michelle that while she doesn’t have a medical degree she believes she makes more of an impact in people’s lives than the doctors. After that Michelle joins Law Enforcement to not only help her community and people but also to hold her fellow officers to a higher standard. Michelle now is a Chief Inspector. She also is divorced and shares custody of her twins with her Ex.

Also Erin and James did eventually get back together. They did date other people (James dated Jenny Joyce for about 2 months, a secret he plans to take to his grave), but they started dating again in 2007, exactly 10 years to the day of their first kiss. They got married on the 10 year anniversary of there breakup (Erin liked the full circle feel of it). They got pregnant about 6 months after their wedding and have a daughter, Josephine Deirdre Maguire (they call her Joey).

Sorry it’s so long. If you made it this far kudos to you.

#derry girls #jerin #james x erin #erin x james #erin quinn #james maguire #michelle mallon #clare devlin #orla mccool

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jomiddlemarch · 9 days

Text

Let’s stop all the clocks

“Erin? Erin Quinn?”

Erin looked up from the book in her lap. It should have been one for one of her classes, but she’d decided to give herself a break and read the absolute trash Michelle had been going on about in the long phone calls that cut into Erin’s coffee budget. It was a quick read, she’d give it that, but she didn’t actually want anyone who knew her full name to have any idea she’d wasted even a second of her time on it and she tried to tuck it under a fold of the saggy, oversized cardigan she’d put on without thinking twice as she ran out the door. She’d been late, as per usual Mammy would say, and she’d consoled herself with the anonymity of train travel in a major metropolitan center. It wasn’t Derry. She’d not meet anyone who recognized her from Adam, as one of her lecturers had said, an idiom she’d not heard before but suspected Sister Michael would have adored.

She tried to place the man, who spoke with the same faded accent she had herself, though a little more posh. He looked like a generic example of thirty-year-old man, nondescript brown hair with no sign of a receding hairline, a bit of scruff around the jaw, broad shoulders, the usual American uniform of jeans and some themed sweatshirt, a bit ratty around the cuffs, not sharp in the least. She had no idea who he was, but anyone would admit he was entirely forgettable.

She, evidently, was not, as he knew her well enough to identify her with her head down, her hair bundled back with an elastic, wearing the glasses that had rapidly become more than an aesthetic choice for someone scaling the heights of academe. She’d said that once to Mammy, just so her mother would reply Catch yerself on in her most exasperated manner.

“That’s me,” she said, trying to sound impersonally polite and not guarded.

“You don’t remember me. Not at all,” he said. Grinned. His eyes were blue and he was more handsome than she’d thought. It was the smile and the complete lack of being insulted that she hadn’t a clue who he was that made him appealing. And the blue eyes. His hands were nice too.

“M’sorry, no,” she said.

“Dee. From Peace Across the Barricades,” he said. “Dee Foster.”

All Erin could remember was Clare screaming her head off, convinced the deaf boy was going to murder her in front of them all. And James clumping about in those pink waterproof trousers, calling himself a lad when he was the least laddish boy who’d ever lived.

“You gave me an Ulster Bank key-chain and some Rolo as a gift?” he said. “I think there was also a pencil.”

It came back to her in a flash. Maybe like the one people said you had before you died.

“Oh my God, Dee! Dee Foster!” She repeated his surname, as if she’d ever known it, as if she’d remembered him quite well in a fond, old-timey fashion, and not as the boy she’d made the most gauche pass at, trying to stick out her unremarkable boobs and cock her head to one side while he’d gawked at her in astonishment.

“You’re looking well, Erin,” he said, still smiling.

“Did you even like Rolo?” Erin heard herself ask, the most absolutely stupid question she could have come up with. Michelle’s eyes would have rolled right out of her head at it, if she could manage to keep them open. A set of twins ten months after her wedding had nearly done her in, even when the boys started taking a nap outside of the enormous double-pram that had become her latest and worst enemy.

“They’re all right, yeah? I prefer a Mars bar, if I have the choice,” he said.

“Rolo are nice though,” Erin said. “If you like a caramel center, there’s none better.”

She suddenly heard how she was related to Colm. Any minute now, Dee would make an excuse to flee and she would not be able to blame him.

“Yeah. It’s a funny thing, seeing you here,” he remarked. He leaned back more in the plastic seat. It seemed fleeing was not the the top of his list.

“They say it’s a small world,” she replied. “Doesn’t seem that way on the subway, all crammed together, all sorts—”

“No, not like home and that was a small place,” he said.

“Small in some ways, miles apart in others,” she said. There was a long pause, a sort of companionable one where she was able to recall she had indeed put on some blush and a bit of mascara before she’d left the flat. Apartment, they called it here, though her American friends were always terribly charmed when she spoke as she would have at home. They found it quaint, she knew that, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t the most likable person, so she had to play the cards she had been dealt. Being the winsome and quirky Irish lass had gotten her this far…

“I regretted it, after,” he said.

“You regretted Peace Across the Barricades?” Erin said. “It fell far short of what he wanted, Father Peter, but it was well-meant even if he was rather full of himself—”

“I regretted turning you down, when you wanted to make out. When you asked and told me you hadn’t any moves,” he said. “You were wearing plaid pajamas and a choker necklace.”

She blushed as she hadn’t for a solid decade.

“I shouldn’t have, it’s so embarrassing—”

“I said I regretted it, saying no. Even if you didn’t really know me,” he said. “You were so shy and also, what brass, to make such a proposition.”

“Michelle said you were a ride,” Erin offered.

“Christ, it takes me home to hear that,” he laughed. “Flattered, too, mind you.”

“I should’ve tried to get to know you. Not treated you like a, like a piece of meat. I’m sorry for that,” she said.

“I’m not,” he said.

“No?”

This was the oddest conversation she could recall and she spoke to Orla nearly every week.

“If you’d been more polite then, more considerate, there’d been nothing to talk about now. I wouldn’t have blurted out your name in a train station waiting room because I wanted to talk to you again. To see that smile of yours,” he said. “Make you blush.”

“You’re quite the charmer,” Erin replied. She blushed harder, if that was even a thing.

“You’ve been too long among the Americans, Erin,” he replied. “This is just Londonderry—”

“Derry,” she interrupted.

“Just so,” he said. “I wished I’d gone over to you, when our parents were all there, arguing. I wished I’d gone over and said something, anything, you wanted to answer. Given you the last Rolo, maybe. Taken the chalk from your hand and written something else on that board. Something you’d have remembered me by.”

“You wished it, eh? Past tense?” she said. She could never leave well enough alone and not everyone cared for her endless monologues about the niceties of the English language. She’d have taken the words back if she could.

“Present tense as well,” Dee said. “Where are you off to?”

“Back up to Boston,” she said. She felt the urge to explain what she did there, her studies and such, and clamped her mouth shut. He hadn’t asked and there was a runaway train taken over her tongue, God knows what she’d come out with if she allowed herself the leeway.

“Isn’t that lucky? I’m headed up there myself,” he said.

“Luckier they don’t assign seats on this train,” she said. Fuck it, this was a chance she had to take. “If you wanted to maybe make that old wish come true—”

She broke off because he’d suddenly stood up. He was tall, had probably grown more after she’d last seen him, and she had to crane her neck to see his face.

“Or not. You probably have other things to do, work or something,” she said, trying to claw back any shred of self-respect. Her pride was long, long gone.

“I was only going to get some snacks for the trip,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the nearest shop with its racks of sweets and bottles of water, juice, all the brightly colored health drinks full of chemicals she could never stomach, though they were said to be good for a hangover.

“Oh, all right then,” she said.

He came back with a plastic bag filled with terrible American chocolate and more satisfying packets of crisps, Cokes, those weird cheese-filled pretzels she couldn’t ever get enough of even though they were inarguably rather disgusting.

“I got some Rolo for old time’s sake,” Dee said, then fished out a little plastic square and held it out to her. It said I love NY but the love was a red heart. “And a keychain. This is my move, Erin Quinn. I hope it’s good enough.”

After they’d moved back to Belfast, she kept her housekeys on it, the letters obscured by the scratches on the plastic, the red heart clear. They gave Rolo as a wedding favor, to the bafflement of their parents, and the knowing looks of Michelle, Clare and James. Orla had only nodded sagely and Dee knew well enough by then not to inquire what she was thinking.

@asteraceae-blue I decided to post this one first because it's a sunny Saturday morning here and that felt like rom-com energy, not angst

#derry girls #derry girls fanfic #erin/dee #erin quinn #peace across the barricades #michelle #romance #rom-com #humor #post-canon #takes place in the US so I don't screw up too much stuff about Ireland or Northern Ireland #I know my limits #meet-cute?#more like meet-confused

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