#every day people post images of some guy doing something everyone does with captions like ''this hot middle aged man behavior''
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slightly annoying post. boom. punishable by death.
#i just had to unfollow someone for an annoying ass thirst post#every day people post images of some guy doing something everyone does with captions like ''this hot middle aged man behavior''#what are you talking about. i look like that right now. everyone looks like that. he's not special. shut up#shut up shut up shut up
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Cruel Summer, Part 6
cruel summer masterlist
AN: Today was ~dramatic~ -- I woke up to learn that someone was posting this fic on AO3 and passing it off as their own. It was a BUMMER, to say the least, and it really threw me off. I haven’t posted fic in a decade, and I was really using this as a fun way to remember how much I loved writing (since doing it professionally can seriously zap the fun out of it). And hearing that someone stole my work made me incredibly upset and feel generally violated. I know it’s just fic, but... I work hard to write it and don’t think it’s too much to ask to receive the credit for it? I hope this chapter doesn’t reflect that because I was really excited for this one! Anyway. TL;DR, I ended up creating an AO3 page, so no one can post FOR me moving forward. I’ve updated my Masterlist page accordingly. And please don’t plagiarize, guys, it’s not cool. Okay. Enough of that negativity. Let’s get back to the important things. Like Rowan.
Rain pelts against Rowan’s window, casting a dark, ominous hue over his bedroom. His first real day off from work, and it’s storming outside, naturally. He’d planned to take it easy and go to the beach, maybe go for a long run. But it looks like that’s not happening now. He knows he’s being punished. This is the universe’s way of intervening and letting him know how shitty he is. Rowan can’t shake the image of Aelin’s hurt face. It is seared into his brain. And there’s only one way to get it out.
Rowan lounges back into his pillows and opens his laptop before typing in Aelin Ashryver into his internet browser. Her Facebook profile pops up immediately, but it’s set to Friends Only, and Rowan definitely isn’t brave enough to add her as a friend. Her Instagram appears next, and Rowan nearly jumps for joy that it’s a public profile.
The first picture is of the back of her head, her blonde hair piled high on top of her head in a messy bun, with tendrils curling around the nape of her neck, overlooking her balcony and the view of the ocean beyond. She’s back, bitches the caption reads, and Rowan can’t help but chuckle. Next is Aelin with her entire family at the head of Ashryver Playland in a picturesque pose with the caption Favorite place with my favorite people (minus @dorhav118 who gets in TOMORROW!!!!). The corners of Rowan’s lips curl downward as his curiosity gets the better of him, and he clicks on Dorian’s profile.
Rowan rolls his eyes at Dorian’s bio: “Hot as a pistol, but cool inside.”
His heart tugs at seeing the first picture. It’s from the pool party the other day, when Aelin was still in her white dress. She’s laughing at something Dorian said, her eyes closed tightly, glass of champagne in her hand, while Dorian smizes into the camera. Reunited and it feels so good <3
“Who kicked your puppy?” Manon asks from the doorway, and Rowan slams his laptop shut.
“No one.”
A wicked grin appears on her face as she stalks into Rowan’s room and slides onto the bed next to him. “I have a pretty good idea.”
Rowan sighs as Manon reaches over and opens the laptop back up, her long nails clacking against the keyboard. “Just as I thought.” She looks Rowan over, from the bags under his eyes to his hair, messy from constantly running his hands through it. “We’re going out.”
Rowan looks out the window at the torrential downpour and gray skies. “Out? In that? Where?”
“I don’t know,” Manon admits, “But I’m not letting you mope and stalk Aelin all day. It’s pathetic, and below you, to be frank. There’s got to be something we can do in this godforsaken town when it rains.”
It turns out there’s not that many options for what to do when it rains in the small beach town. Mostly everything is outdoors or beach oriented. But Manon decides that the aquarium is a good indoor activity, and it happens to be next to a brewery – for when they get bored. The pair Uber there, not wanting to deal with the hassle of worrying about sobering up. If Rowan’s not allowed to mope and be pathetic at home, he’s going to do today right. And do it drunk.
Despite it being one of the few indoor activities available, the aquarium is fairly deserted when Manon and Rowan arrive. It’s dark and damp and cool and strangely soothing, and Rowan lets Manon lead the way. She heads immediately for the reptile room, thrilled to see the alligators and lizards and snakes. Somehow Rowan isn’t surprised by this development.
They branch off into a small Amazon Rainforest room, filled with frogs and fish and even more snakes on low hanging branches, and Rowan nearly jumps out of skin when a large bird caws in his direction.
“I fucking hate birds,” he grumbles as Manon cackles in delight. “Can’t we see… cuter animals? Like, turtles and seals or some shit?”
Manon rolls her eyes and leads him straight to the shark tank. It’s open, so they can lean over it and look at the giant creatures. Rowan grits his teeth, only slightly terrified at the image of the fin cutting through the surface of the water.
“You know what you’re feeling is totally false,” Manon comments casually.
“Huh?” Rowan says, trying to maintain his calm façade.
“Sharks aren’t predators of humans. That’s the Jaws effect in action. It completely changed our perception of sharks and actually sparked a hunting frenzy that has put sharks in danger, even though they were just an important part of the ecosystem. Fuck you, Spielberg.”
Manon purses her darkly painted lips and twirls her white blonde hair, leaning over the tank further. Rowan shakes his head at his roommate, who looks like she wants to reach into the water and pet the fucking things. He’s never seen her so affected before.
“Why are you like this?” he asks, and she laughs.
“You’re not thinking about her anymore, though, are you?”
Rowan flicks her off. “I wasn’t.”
“A few more rooms will get you right back to that terrified place and not thinking about her at all. Don’t you worry.” She winks and leads him into an incredibly dark room, which is only lit up with glowing jellyfish. Manon is right, and within a few minutes, Rowan is feeling calm again. He lets the dark and schools of weird underwater creatures soothe him, and after they finish at the aquarium, Rowan is grateful he let Manon drag him out of the house.
“Beer?” she asks, and Rowan nods readily.
“I think I earned it.”
“Shut up, you fucking loved it. Think we should get a fish tank?” she asks, and Rowan shakes his head immediately. Manon is strange enough without tending to creatures from the deep in their apartment.
They brave the rain, realizing they both forgot umbrellas, and make a mad dash down the street. Rain soaks Rowan’s shirt, but he feels light. They duck into the brewery, and Rowan shakes out his hair, spraying water all over Manon, like a wet dog. He’s never seen her look so horrified.
“You’re lucky I set my makeup, so it’s immoveable every day,” she says with narrowed eyes. “First round’s on you, asshole.”
Rowan orders them two beers fairly quickly, despite the brewery being packed with patrons (he guesses this is where everyone goes when it rains). But when he turns around to hand Manon her drink, he’s surprised to see her mid-conversation with the very last person he wants to see.
“Rowan!” Dorian calls him over with a wide smile, and Rowan grimaces as he joins them. “I was just introducing myself to your stunning roommate,” Dorian says, and Manon rolls her eyes. But Rowan knows she’s beaming internally with the praise. Manon knows she’s beautiful and doesn’t let anyone forget it, despite her lack of interest in men.
“Uh, hey, Dorian, right?” Rowan says, pretending like he wasn’t just browsing the man’s Instagram profile merely hours ago.
Dorian laughs heartily. “Rowan, come on. We’re friends. Any friend of Aelin’s is a friend of mine.” He grins again, and Rowan can’t help but stare at his incredibly white teeth. He wonders if he whitens them. He must, because no one’s teeth are that naturally white. Or straight.
“Come sit with us!” Dorian points to their table where Aelin sits with the same two people from last night.
“Sure!” Manon says, the same time Rowan says “NO!” emphatically.
“Come on,” Dorian pleads. “We have a big table, and the place is packed. You’ll be lucky to find standing room otherwise. Please, Aelin would be horrified if I let you leave without saying hi.”
Rowan’s stomach churns, but he feels trapped. He can’t say no. “Lead the way,” he says, and Dorian smiles another blinding smile.
“Great.”
He leads them to their table, and to say that Aelin looks shocked to see Rowan approach would be an understatement.
“Look who I found!” Dorian exclaims, gesturing to Rowan and Manon, who stand next to the table awkwardly. “Chaol, Nesryn – these are two of Aelin’s friends, Rowan and Manon.”
The brunette dude, Chaol, gives Rowan a tight smile and short head nod, but the woman, Nesryn, stands and shakes both their hands politely.
Rowan and Manon slide into the two empty seats, and of course Rowan is directly across from Aelin. She looks at him curiously as he takes a large sip of his beer.
“So, how do you know Aelin?” Chaol asks, breaking the awkward silence.
“Rowan works at the park,” Dorian explains. “And Chaol is Aelin’s ex-boyfriend and my other best friend,” Dorian chuckles.
“It’s not as awkward as it sounds,” Chaol says with a laugh.
Aelin squints her eyes and looks at Chaol. “Mmm… it kind of is.”
Manon snorts. “You’re a handful, aren’t you?” she says, leaning toward Aelin, and Aelin flips her golden hair over her shoulder and shrugs.
“Two handfuls, thank you very much,” she says and feels herself up, showing how her chest spills over her hand, too much for one to grasp fully.
“Aelin!” Chaol chides, and Rowan can feel heat creep up the back of his neck as he stares at Aelin’s ample cleavage as she lifts it up.
Dorian cackles, his laugh piercing through the room as he tips his head back. He reminds Rowan of Manon when he does it, so amused with others’ discomfort.
Rowan glances back at Aelin’s chest, and when he looks up, she’s staring back at him, one brow raised in question. He immediately finishes the rest of his beer, downing it in one gulp.
“I need more beer. Anyone else?” Rowan asks, and to his surprise, Chaol stands and offers to come with him.
The pair stand side by side at the bar, waiting for their drinks, and Rowan is unsure of what to say to his current crush’s former paramour.
“So…” Chaol begins, and Rowan cocks an eyebrow at him as he leans against the bar. “You were at The Mason Jar last night,” Chaol says, naming the dive bar where he’d met up with the guys the night prior. “Aelin booked it to the bar when she saw you,” Chaol continues. “You guys, like, a thing?” he asks, curiosity seeping through his anything but innocent question.
“What?” Rowan says, bowled over. “No. Uh. Not at all.” Rowan is more than flustered. “I thought she and Dorian were…”
And at that Chaol tips his head back and guffaws. A deep, full-body belly laugh, erupts from his mouth. “Dorian?” he gapes, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. “And Aelin?” He shakes his head. “No. No no no. Never.” Chaol pauses. “They kissed once when they were thirteen, but other than that. No. Dorian is her person. Which is why it could never work between us, even though we tried for five fucking years,” he sighs and scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. “But, no. They’re definitely not.” Chaol looks at Rowan, and Rowan feels like he’s seeing through him completely. Chaol smiles softly. “You really thought? Hmmm.”
Rowan is stunned. Seriously stunned. He has no idea how to react. Or how to process this new information. Dorian and Aelin are not dating? They’re just… friends? So, Aelin is available? And has been flirting with Rowan for the past week, and Rowan just shot her down? Rowan rubs his forehead with his hand, which he thinks is the only thing stopping him from banging his head against the bar in shame. Rowan is an idiot.
An idiot who needs to apologize to Aelin. Immediately.
“This was, uh… enlightening,” Rowan says as he accepts his drink from the bartender, and Chaol can’t help but laugh again.
“Did you do something stupid?” he asks cheekily.
“So stupid,” Rowan says, shaking his head.
“Yeah, she was kind of in a mood after she came back from talking to you,” Chaol says, and Rowan groans. Chaol holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help!”
Rowan turns to him fully and examines the brunette with his concerned brown eyes and has to ask, “Not to be rude, but why?”
“Because Aelin deserves to be happy,” he says resolutely. “And I kept her from being happy for a really long time because I’m a selfish bastard,”Chaol admits way too freely. “But, how could I not?”
“You still love her,” Rowan says, and Chaol shrugs.
“I think once you love Aelin you always love her. For better or worse.”
Rowan motions to the table. “I’m gonna…”
Chaol smirks. “Yeah, get to it.”
But back at the table, Aelin and Dorian are nowhere to be found. Manon sighs, obvious to Rowan’s distress.
“She went to sign up for karaoke.”
“Oh no…” Rowan groans.
“Oh, yes,” Aelin says, bounding back to the table, exuberant.
“Don’t worry. I signed you up, too, Rowan,” Dorian says with a grin.
Aelin frowns, her eyes filled with apology. “I told him not to.”
Dorian rolls his eyes. “And I told her that if Rowan wants to hang with us this summer, he’s gotta get initiated.”
“It’s fine,” Rowan says, smiling in what he hopes is a nice and not creepy way to Aelin. She looks momentarily confused, but she doesn’t have time to think about it because she’s called up to do her song with Dorian almost immediately.
The pair sing “Shallow” flawlessly. And now that Rowan knows they aren’t dating, he can see their friendship all too clearly. Aelin and Dorian love each other fiercely; their passion rages through everything they do, but it lacks a spark. It’s platonic, Rowan finally realizes. He’s been such a fucking fool.
Rowan’s name gets called next, and his stomach is is knots, wondering what song they’ve chosen for him. When he gets to the front, though, he nearly laughs. They’ve chosen a song he could sing with his eyes completely closed.
Shorty get down, good lord… baby’s got ‘em up all over town…
Strictly biz she don’t play around, cover much ground, got game by the pound
Getting paid is her forte
Each and every day, true player way
I can’t get her out of my mind
Think about the girl all the time…
He knows the song is comeuppance for calling Aelin friendly last night, but he crushes it nonetheless, singing his heart out, performing for the masses. When Rowan finishes, the crowds go wild, applauding like crazy.
He sees Aelin bolt from the table before he can get back off the stage, and decides to follow her. She heads down the long hall back to the bathrooms, and his long stride helps him catch up quickly.
“Aelin!” he shouts, and he’s grateful that she pauses, but her arms are crossed over her chest, a clear defensive stance that tells him to keep his distance.
“What?” she snips, obviously pissed. They haven’t actually interacted with each other since last night, and Rowan knows she has every right to be angry with him. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? What are you even doing here, Rowan?”
“I’m an idiot,” he blurts out, and he can see Aelin’s face morph from pissed to amused. She bites her lip to hold back her smile.
“I mean, I know that, but why do you think that?” she says, her blue gold eyes glowing with challenge. He takes a step closer to her, and she backs up until she can’t back up anymore, pressed against the side of the hall. He pauses his approach, not wanting to make her feel cornered. If she wants space between them, he’ll let her have space.
“I was so out of line last night,” Rowan apologizes. “You were right. You were just trying to be friendly. I was being a dick. I thought…” Rowan pauses. He doesn’t want to be this tongue tied, but she flusters him, and he can’t get anything out how he wants to. “It’s not harassment when I want to be touched. By you.”
Aelin’s eyes narrow. She looks suspicious as she examines him.
“I knew I was good at karaoke, but damn, I didn’t anticipate this kind of turnaround…” Aelin smirks and takes a breath, and Rowan risks taking another step forward. She holds up a hand and presses it against Rowan’s chest. He didn’t realize how close he’d gotten to her. Warmth from her palm seeps through his shirt, and he breathes heavily. She looks up into his eyes with curiosity.
“Seriously, what changed your mind?” she asks.
“If I say Chaol’s name right now it’s just going to make things weird,” Rowan says, dipping his head slightly, and he can’t help but notice her tilt her head up to him. He zeroes in on her lips, leaning down to get even closer.
“You’re right,” she says with a soft laugh. “You were still a jerk.” Her eyes flick to his lips, and Rowan darts his tongue out to wet them.
“I know,” he breathes softly. “And I mentioned I was an idiot, right?”
Aelin nods and leans in to close the gap between them, the charge, the magnetism between them now palpable, strumming through Rowan’s body, pulling him downward.
“Hey guysss,” Dorian drawls as he walks past them quickly, and Rowan straightens up suddenly. Aelin darts under his arm, freeing herself from being backed into the wall. He sees her take a large breath. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” Dorian looks between them, and then grabs his stomach. “I have to pee so bad. Don’t mind me!” He continues down the hall. “As you were!”
Rowan goes to finish his apology, but the moment is gone, and so is Aelin. He needs a moment to compose himself, and when he makes it back to the table, she’s already deep in conversation with Manon and Chaol and Nesryn about the latest karaoke performance. Apparently in his absence someone murdered “Bohemian Rhapsody” and not in a good way. But Aelin acknowledges Rowan’s presence with a flash of a smile, despite not breaking her conversation.
Manon side eyes Rowan suspiciously, and Rowan brushes her off. He’s not ready to talk about whatever just did or did not happen in that hallway.
Their chatter is aimless but pleasant as afternoon bleeds into evening, and eventually they all decide to disperse and head home. Rowan never gets a chance to speak to Aelin alone again, but when he and Manon are in their Uber heading home, his phone flashes with a Friend Request from Aelin Ashryver.
“Hmm,” Manon hums pointedly as Rowan bites back a smile. He spends the rest of the night in bed, scrolling through Aelin’s social media. As he’d originally planned to do with his day. Only now, he doesn’t feel as mopey or pathetic. He lets the rain, still relentless, lull him to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~
let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters – ask me HERE
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#rowaelin#aelin x rowan#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#rowan whitethorn#aelin galythinius#cruel summer au#amusement park au#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfiction#throne of glass fanfic#tog fanfic#dorian havilliard#manon blackbeak#chaol westfall#karaoke#rainy day#ust
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Monte Carlo : Racecar driver!Cal
Summary: They've been going to the same bar for a while, but have never talked. Then, across the globe, they meet at a club. He's there for a formula one race, she's there as an Instagram promoter for The Grand Prix. Angst and slow-burn ensues.
Word Count: 14k
Warnings: some smut
Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst, ft. Harry Styles
note: I started writing this when i first got into f1 so it's not 100% correct on how f1 operates but that's ok. Also I’m not from New York but i tried my best lol
Nascar stuff to watch if you want a full experience: Hot Lap, Champagne popping.
****************
She’d met him in a bar.
It wasn't a southside bar. The carpets weren’t stained by booze, ashes from used cigarettes and various human fluids, whether that be blood or sweat or whatever else landed on the floor in a dodgy hole in the wall.
Yet, it wasn’t a North Side bar either. They didn’t have the most expensive bottles of whiskey, no ‘hints of aged oak’ or bottles boasting of being over a hundred years old.
No, it was a middle ground. People loitered outside, men in leather smoking with the bouncers. The women there wore strappy heels and weren’t afraid to kick them off to play a game of pool. It was perfect, and there was nowhere else Celeste would have rather been.
The charm of the bar wasn’t even really the bar itself, but a certain regular.
His arrival was always signaled by the scent that would rush into the bar when a bouncer opened the door for him. The stuff he smoked always seemed to smell different, the type of sweetness that was edged, the type of sweetness that told you not to get too close.
No one could help but look at him when he entered. He was beautiful, the type of guy who could afford to relax in a North Side bar where the extra cost for drinks bought you more discreet eyes.
He never seemed to mind the eyes though, and Celeste wasn’t surprised, after all, she supposed a racecar driver of his stature would be used to it by now.
She’d thought he was cute before the bartender had even mentioned that the gorgeous brunette was a famous race car driver. Celeste wasn’t the type to watch cars, whether they be NASCAR or formula one. Hell, she didn’t even know the difference between the two - didn’t particularly care.
Celeste could understand the man - she wasn’t sure of his name - she wasn’t too picky about being seen either. Both of them were young and alive, chasing dreams and becoming successful at an early age.
The driver must have been twenty-three or four, already a known winner. If Celeste could remember correctly, she thought she’d heard he was one of the drivers for Ferrari, which sounded prestigious.
Celeste was twenty-two and at the cusp of finding stardom in the world of modeling. She’d been discovered by a recruiter at aged sixteen and bounced around smaller brands before landing a gig with Victoria’s Secret. Although she’d yet to walk their runway, one of the designers had showed her picture to a friend and just like that, Celeste had become the muse for one of the biggest fashion brands in North America.
She supposed she was lucky, blessed really, to have been in the mall the day the recruiter discovered her.
And likewise, she supposed the driver was fortunate to have been introduced to driving at a young age.
So there the two of them were, two young stars shortening the vicinity between themselves every Friday night or so. Close but not touching, never meeting.
Later in her life, Celeste would wonder if it was odd for the other patrons who frequented the bar. If it was odd for them to be minding their own business and have not one, but two, semi-famous people just decide ‘this is my chosen bar.’ But in those moments when Celeste accepted a challenge in pool, playing against other drunk university girls, Celeste was just one of the people who’d found a little slice of home in a midtown bar.
***
Calum swirled the whiskey in his glass, taking a deep breath and turning so his back was leaning against the bar top. His eyes found her immediately. She was the type of girl that stood out. Even if he hadn’t been told by his favourite bartender that the girl was a model, he could have guessed.
It was hard to tear his gaze from her as she bent over the pool table to line up a shot. Her little jean shorts hugged her ass perfectly, and the way her thighs were pressed against the table made Calum lick his lips. She wasn't a typical model, or at least didn’t have the thinner body type. She was what his friends would call slim thicc, and Calum ate it up every time she entered the bar.
The girls she was playing with were obviously university students from the school down the road. Calum had seen them once or twice, they liked to get drunk and play pool. They were also obviously fans of the model, and to the models credit, she was very kind to them any time they approached her.
“You should go talk to her.” the bartender suggested, “two pretty people like you, it makes sense.”
Calum smirked against the rim of his glass, humming absentmindedly, “does it?”
“You should do it soon, you know everyone’s been taking bets on when you end up talking to her, who approaches who.”
“Really?” Calum turned to look at the bartender.
“No, but it’s a good idea, maybe I should start that up.” he paused, “come on man, you’re a regular, she’s a regular. You’ve both been coming in for what? Six months now? Most Fridays? Except for when you’re off in Italy or Mexico or wherever, winning trophies and she’s doing modeling gigs. The two of you would make sense together.”
Calum shot the last mouthful of whiskey, setting the glass down, “no we wouldn’t.” he stated, tossing a bill onto the counter. He didn’t look up at the bartender, instead, he grabbed his leather jacket that had been thrown over a bar chair and shrugged it on. It was warm and worn, and Calum produced a joint from inside one of the pockets, tucking it behind his ear and amongst his dark curls. His trusty lighter was in his hand by the time he was pushing the door open to escape the bar.
The cold air wrapped around him and Calum’s nimble fingers moved the joint from behind his ear to his lips, the lighter flicking on. He took a long drag and his eyes closed, the warm feeling wrapping around him pleasantly.
He knew he was being a pussy.
Knew that sixth months was six months too many for him to be in the same vicinity of a girl like that and not make a move. Calum liked to take his time with women, which is why he enjoyed going to the bar alone.
His friends didn’t get it. They were all about driving fast, living fast and fucking fast.
Calum would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy speed, he was a fucking racecar driver for Christ’s sake. One of the fastest in the world, if his last race was anything to go by.
But when it came to women? Well with women, Calum liked to go slow.
Besides, he was only going away for a week, maybe a little more. She’d be there when he got back.
***
The pop of the champagne bottle announced the spray of liquor that began to stream over Calum and his friends. Ashton was pointing his bottle towards the crowd and fans screamed up at them, allowing the expensive liquid to drench them as the drivers celebrated.
Calum’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and two of his friends held his head back as Ashton poured booze into his mouth. He was getting used to this treatment, they were only four events into the year but this was Calum’s third win. He was going to drink a little, but he was saving his energy for the next race, it mattered more to him anyways.
The Monaco Grand Prix held a special place in Calum’s heart and he could hardly wait for the week and a half for it to start.
Champagne dripped down the front of his red jumpsuit and Calum shoved his friends away, heart pumping fast. It only ever beat this way when he won first place, something that was happening with more and more frequency.
The air was still tinged with red from the gusts of coloured smoke that had been released as he’d crossed the finish line.
For a moment something else flashed red across his vision, a shirt the model had been wearing the week before. She must have not had any idea when she’d chosen that colour that it had a deeper meaning for Calum. It was the colour of Ferrari, his colour, a colour that always sparked his heart with fire, the colour that promised a race, promised the elevation into paradise that came with a win.
One of his friends grabbing his jumpsuit drew Calum’s attention, and the image of the girl was gone.
***
Celeste lounged in her chair, celebrating a successful shoot with a slice of pizza. As she bit into the cheesy goodness, her makeup artist sat next to her, “you have to see this.” she said, moving her phone where Celeste could see, “it’s from the race practice today.”
“And it’s Formula one right?” Celeste clarified. She felt bad, knowing that she should logically know more about the cars. After all, she was in Monte Carlo for the Monaco Grand Prix. The brand who hired her to be their correspondent for the paid promotion trip had known Celeste had no background with motorsports, so they had a journalist creating her captions for all of her paid posts. But Celeste still felt bad.
“Yeah this is formula one, you can tell because the cars are thinner remember? just watch this.” the girl said with excitement. Celeste focused on the screen, watching as a red car sped down a track, “oh my god, how fast is he going?”
“Fast.” the girl breathed.
There were two cars, a red and a blue. The red tried to skim past the blue and sent them both spiraling out, the blue coming to stand still as the driver got their bearing, however, the red car hadn’t even stopped spinning before it was off again, speed gaining to catch the car that had taken the lead from him during those brief seconds of collision.
The camera angle switched to the camera attached to the red car and even at massively high speeds, the driver was fixing their mirror that had been damaged in the collision, and driving with only one hand.
One more harsh turn had red overtake the other red that had been in the lead.
The clip cut off.
“Did he win?” Celeste asked.
“He did, but this was just a practice, we still have qualifiers and the actual race.” her artist said, “fuck, Hood is insane, I’ve never seen a driver recover from a bump so quick.”
“I’m shocked the bump didn’t have them both like, flipping or something.” Celeste said, “every time I think about race cars I think about how deadly the crashes look.”
“Just be glad you’re not dating a driver.” her artist said.
Celeste laughed, “thank god.”
***
Celeste had been busy most of the day, but she’d heard the notorious Hood had won yet again, not that it was a surprise, apparently. People on the streets were talking about him, his name whispered over and over again everywhere Celeste went to take pictures.
The other model she was with had done the Monte Carlo coverage for the brand the year before, she’d chosen a club and said that it was the place to be the night of the qualifiers and especially the next night after the final.
It was easy enough to get onto the list for the exclusive club, and the fellow model, a girl named Alexa, warned Celeste not to sleep with any of the drivers, “they’re pigs.” Alexa said as they got out of the limo, “only good for pictures and tags but other than that? They talk a big game about liking it fast but these men don’t have stamina for shit.”
Celeste laughed, following Alexa up past the security who didn’t even ask if they were on the list. Alexa and Celeste where the types of girls who surpassed lists, if a straight man ever tried to refuse them entrance to a club, it would surely mark a coming apocalypse and pigs would be flying.
The VIP section of club was alive with people, full of the rich elite, the type of people who flew out to Monte Carlo with the pure intent of watching Formula One racing. Celeste decided, as she walked amongst people with pearls and diamonds adorning their bodies, that Formula One was an expensive sport. Alexa had mentioned early in the day, as the two of them absentmindedly waited for the cars to zoom past where they were sitting in the crowd, that some Formula One cars could cost around fifteen and a half million dollars to make.
Celeste had nearly fallen out of her seat at the number, and her mouth had gone dry as her eyes went to the track, watching the expensive cars who could at any moment flip and waste so much money.
The thought of cars crashing was swept from Celeste’s mind as she was dragged by Alexa through the crowd of people. The racers weren’t hard to spot. They were all decked out in sponsored caps and casual outfits. The only people in the room who didn’t feel like they needed to dress up, because they didn’t. Every rich person in the room was there for them, the racers had all the power, all eyes on them.
Some were surprisingly young looking, and many of them were smaller than Celeste expected. “Why are they so tiny?” Celeste whispered, stopping Alexa in her tracks as Celeste looked at the racers.
“The more weight that’s in the car, the slower it goes, smaller is better… for once.” Alexa teased, “come on.”
Then they were in the midst of the racers, Alexa hugging a man she fondly called Ash. He was a bit bigger than the others, but still not up to Celeste’s standards. Her eyes wandered, a smile on her face flashed to anyone Alexa introduced her too.
A song came on and Celeste’s hand tightened around Alexa’s, “oh my gosh, this is my song!” Celeste said, looking at her with pleading eyes, “come dance with me?”
“You go ahead, I have to catch up with some friends.” Alexa said.
Celeste didn’t need to be told twice, letting go of her friend to escape to the dancefloor. It was out of the way of the VIP section, filled with a younger crowd that Celeste felt akin to. She meshed in, lost within the swarm of dancing people. The song was new, by an artist she’d followed since his boyband years. His new music was rich and fun, the artist making a true name for himself as a rockstar.
Her hips swayed to the music, the beautiful metallic sheer dress hugging all her curves as she smiled and danced with the people who made room for her. She’d never had issues fitting in, least of all on a dancefloor.
When the song finished, she continued to dance, even though the next songs weren’t her favourites. She was just beginning to sweat when a hand grabbed hers, Alexa pulling her roughly, “Celeste come with me now!”
By the time they’d exited the crowd, it was obvious where Celeste was taking her. Standing in the VIP section, surrounded by racers, looking as handsome as ever, was Harry Styles, the very artist that Celeste had swooned over when his song had come on.
Her heart froze in her chest and she stopped in her tracks, pulled harshly again by Alexa, “come on!” Alexa said, “you have to meet him!”
***
Calum was becoming an expert in the art of opening and spraying champagne. He’d won the Monaco Grand Prix, taking the first spot like he was entitled to it, and keeping it until he’d crossed the finish line. His entire body was on fire, heart racing in his chest.
Ashton stood next to him, he’d finished third, which was also impressive. It was obvious that they’d be celebrating that night, after the interviews. Calum was excited about the night ahead, he’d always found Monte Carlo to be a dreamlike city, wonderous and in a way romantic.
He wasn’t sure what would happen that night, but if it was anything like his triumphant day, he knew it would be amazing. Nothing could pull him away from his post win high, and he was sure of that.
***
It was her.
Calum blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. No, it was her. The girl from the bar. The influencer who’d weaseled her way into his brain without even knowing it, was there, a few yards away. She had a glass of champagne in her hand, but it was still full.
Calum recognized the girl next to his influencer, a model named Alexa. He’d met her at a few of his races, she was a brand endorser for a number of the same brands Calum worked for. He knew he was on her Instagram, tagged a few times, pictures of the two of them standing next to each other, her smile much larger than his. Alexa was a nice girl, he enjoyed her, but Calum generally tried to stay away from models, he wasn’t quite sure why.
Alexa spotted him a moment later, her eyes widening as she motioned him over, opening her arms to pull him into a tight hug, “I can't believe you won!” she screamed, “that’s what? Your third race in a row? What’s your secret Hood?!”
Calum’s eyes darted between Alexa and the influencer next to her, still not introduced, waiting politely for his answer.
“Uh-” Calum wracked his brain for a witty response but nothing came, “who’s your friend?”
Alexa didn’t even seem to mind that he hadn’t answered her question, “this is Celeste.” she said.
Celeste held out a hand, “nice to meet you-”
“Calum.”
“Calum.” she repeated his name, a silly smile on her face. The name tasted sweet on her tongue, “I think… have we met before?” she tried to play it cool, but she knew exactly where she’d seen him. This was the mystery hunk who frequented her bar back in New York.
For months she’d been trying to work up the courage to go talk to him, and now there he was, halfway across the world in a club that was too loud, a new title added to his impressive resume.
Calum nodded, “we go to the same bar in New York.” he didn’t even bother dancing around the idea of where they knew each other from.
Celeste’s heart leaped in her chest.
“You two know each other?” Alexa asked in shock.
“Not really-” Celeste began as Calum said “no.” they both stopped, waiting for the other to continue. Both of them blushed, Calum readjusting his guinness cap on his head.
A man with honey coloured curls appeared, arm going around Calum as he greeted Alexa, “who’s your friend?” Ashton asked.
“Celeste.” Celeste answered, holding out her hand to him.
Calum watched every movement, loving every motion.
“I’m Ashton,” the man said, turning to Alexa, “you need a drink.” he stated, grabbing Alexa’s hand.
“Only if you’re buying.” Alexa teased, allowing Ashton to pull her towards the bar, leaving Calum alone with Celeste.
“So you won today!” Celeste said enthusiastically, “that must be so great for you!”
Calum could see her struggling with her words, “you don’t watch F1 much do you?”
“F1?”
“Formula One.” Calum corrected himself with a laugh.
“No, I don't.” Celeste admitted awkwardly, “fast cars aren’t really my thing.”
“Really?” Calum asked in shock, she looked like the kind of girl who would own a luxury car, but maybe he was getting ahead of himself.
“Yeah, I don't know, fast cars, crashes, guess I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat.” Celeste laughed, sipping her champagne.
“I could take you for a drive.” Calum stated, the words left his mouth before he could stop them, “I mean, my Ferrari is down at the track-”
“I’d have to be really drunk to agree to that.” Celeste laughed, the tone of it twinkling deliciously and making Calum smile.
“Then, cheers.” Calum clinked his beer with Celeste’s champagne glass.
“To F1.” Celeste said, already incorporating the new term Calum had taught her.
Calum smiled at her, “To fast cars, crashes and scaredy cats.”
***
“We are not doing this.” Celeste said, even as she got into the car. Calum closed the door behind her, hurrying to his own side to get into the driver's seat, “Calum, your seatbelt is straight out of bondage porno.”
“Watch a lot of those?” Calum laughed, his skin heating as he turned to look at the model who was holding the harness like a seatbelt.
“Calum!” Celeste said loudly again, jaw-dropping as she looked at him, “no!”
Calum grinned, reaching over to help her put the seatbelt on. He hadn’t pushed her to drink more, Celeste had done that on her own. She’d said after a few sips of champagne that ‘it wasn’t every day a formula one racer offered to take a gal out for a drive’ and had downed her glass. Seeing she was serious, Calum had put down his beer, having only had a sip of it.
He was completely sober, unlike the girl next to him. She was a bubbly drunk, much like the champagne that had caused her to be this way.
Calum grabbed the two safety helmets from the back of the car, handing one to Celeste. She looked at it like it was about to bite her, “what?!”
“For safety.” Calum said, putting it on her himself before putting on his own.
“How fast are we going to go?” Celeste asked.
“As fast as you want.” Calum said, putting on his own seatbelt before looking out at the track. He didn’t want to tell her that he would go over 200 km/h on straights, he knew he was being devious but he didn’t care so much.
He’d done this before, never with a model, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to show up and go for a celebratory lap of the track the night after a win. He’d even left his car on the track, having always planned on coming and doing this. Security was always nice to him, partly, he supposed, because he was a winner, but also partly because he was a nice guy.
“Fast.” Celeste whispered, then she looked at him, “wait, not super fast,” she said, then she frowned, “no, fast? Maybe?”
Calum laughed, “I'll just start, and if you want me to go slower, I can, yeah?”
“Okay.” Celeste said, her eyes lingering on the racer's profile, “pretty.” she mumbled, so quietly that Calum almost didn’t hear her. He felt his skin heating, could feel his ears turning red as the car roared to life, the engine purring.
“Fuck.” Celeste said, grabbing at the car door.
Calum laughed, turning to look at her, “we haven’t even moved yet.”
“What if I don't want to anymore?”
Calum took his foot off the brake and the car rolled about two feet, making Celeste grip the door tighter.
“We can stop.” Calum said, easing off the brake again to move another few feet.
Celeste took a deep breath, then turned to look at him, “Murder me.” she stated.
Calum’s breath caught in his throat and he blinked, taking a moment before he realized she meant that he should drive so fast she’ll metaphorically die. He swallowed thickly. “You got it.” he said, voice hoarse.
“Have you ever taken someone out on something like this before?” Celeste asked, suddenly sounding quite sober.
“We call them hot laps.” Calum stated, “I've taken a few athletes out on some, done some drifting, some donuts-”
“Can we do some donuts? I love donuts.” Celeste said as Calum pulled onto the track.
“Sure.” Calum looked at her, “do you trust me?”
Celeste wet her lips, “no?”
The first part of the track was straight and Calum’s foot went all the way down on the gas pedal. Celeste squealed, thrown back into her seat as Calum grinned. They reached 230 km/h quickly and Celeste screamed as she saw the first turn coming into view.
She didn’t tell him to slow down, which Calum appreciated as he adjusted the car for the turn, hitting the apex (the inner corner) perfectly as Celeste squealed next to him. Calum couldn’t help but smile, pushing the car faster again as he came out of the corner.
He knew this track like the back of his hand. Knew it was 3.4 kilometers, nineteen harsh corners that would have him breaking for around 20% of the drive, giving him ample reason to drift just to make Celeste scream. Fuck. He loved it.
There was no one watching, just him and Celeste, and she obviously knew nothing about racing. Which meant he could get away with doing things that had them both thrown around the car, just for the hell of it.
It was the type of track where he couldn’t go as fast as he wanted, he wanted to be able to show Celeste how fast a car could go.
The sharp turns were coming up and Calum was ready for Celeste’s loud scream as the tires skidded across asphalt, he wasn’t ready for her hand landing on his thigh, holding on tightly.
He held the record for fastest lap in the world at this track, having completed it in 1 minute and 13.60 seconds, almost a full second faster than anyone else in the world. In the car he was in now, it would take longer, but driving always seemed fast to him.
He was focused behind the wheel, moving it expertly, taking each turn as Celeste screamed next to him, never letting go of his leg.
To Celeste, the ride felt like eons, every turn threw her to the side, her eyes unable to keep a track of the road in front of them. She simply had to hold on and enjoy it. Part of her did. Perhaps it was her drunken state, but she wasn’t really that afraid. She trusted the man next to her, even if she didn’t understand why.
The car skidded to a halt and just as Celeste thought it was over, Calum lurched the wheel to the side and threw Celeste to the left, as she squealed. The car continued to go in tight circles, a harsh weight pulling on Celeste as she screamed, eyes closed, mind dizzy.
The car stopped and Celeste took a moment to open her eyes, blinking at Calum.
“That was a donut.” he told her.
“Thank you.” Celeste whispered.
Calum laughed, then his eyes darted down to her hand on his thigh, she followed his gaze, offering him a lazy smile, “you have nice thighs.”
“You do too.” Calum said, voice hoarse. It was true. She’s what Calum’s friends would call “thiccer than a sniccer” and it had not escaped his notice.
“Do I?” Celeste asked, removing her hand from Calum to look down at her lap, “you don’t think they’re too big?”
“No.” Calum said honestly, following her eyes now as he looked at her legs. He swallowed thickly, tearing his gaze away, “where are you staying?”
“I forget what it’s called.” Celeste said, a happy smile on her face, “can I stay with you tonight?”
Calum’s mind was blank for a moment. He wasn’t sure what she was asking for. He wasn’t about to take advantage of her, no matter how badly he wanted her thighs wrapped around his head- “uh- sure.”
“Sleep over!” Celeste squealed, “we have to order pizza!”
“I don’t eat pizza.” Calum said as he took off his helmet, reaching over to help Celeste take off hers.
“What?! Why not?!” Celeste pouted, looking very concerned.
“Racecar drivers are supposed to be small, less weight means a faster car-”
“But you’re so big and tall.” Celeste smiled.
“Yeah,” Calum laughed, “so i try not to eat much, don’t want to gain any more weight than I already have, I'm a lot taller than most drivers.”
“That must mean you’re really good.”
Calum smiled, setting the helmets in the back of the car then going to unbuckle Celeste. He stayed quiet, too humble to tell her that she was right.
Celeste turned to look out the window, opening the door once she’d been released from the seatbelt. By the time Calum had gone to join her on the other side of the car she was laying on the ground, “the stars are so pretty.” she mused.
Calum sighed. At the start of his day, he’d expected maybe winning the race. He hadn’t expected to bump into the model he’d been lusting over for months from New York, in a club in Monte Carlo, only to drive her around then lay on the track and look at the stars with her.
Calum got down next to her, his shoulder just touching hers, “the stars are pretty nice.”
“For my part, I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.” Celeste breathed, “Van Gogh. I'm really tired Calum, can you take me home?”
He couldn’t take her home, not really. All they had was his hotel room. But perhaps it wasn’t bricks and mortar that made something a home, perhaps it was something else. Something not solid, not something you could hold in your hands. Maybe it was a feeling.
He wondered what could be home.
***
Celeste blinked, sitting up in a bed that was not her own. The first thing she noticed was the wall of pillows to her left. Curled up in the pillows was a head of dark curls and Celeste recognized Calum. His back was to her, a redshirt covering his broad shoulders. Even in bed, he wore Ferrari’s colours, it was intriguing.
Calum was awake, and when the bed dipped, he knew Celeste was as well. He rolled over and sat up, looking at her, “how are you feeling?” he asked.
“My head hurts a little,” she admitted, “you took me racing last night?”
“I took you on the track.” Calum said.
She blinked at him, “I remember screaming a lot.”
A smile spread across Calum’s face, “yeah, I think you enjoyed it.”
“I think I remember enjoying it.”
Calum got out of the bed, “I'm going to go get you breakfast, waffles and donuts right?”
“How did you know my cheat meal?”
“You were ranting about it last night, wanted to go find a diner to make you some fried chicken and waffles.” Calum answered, leaning against the doorway, “I don't think they’ll have the deep-fried chicken, but they have waffles, and donuts, sprinkles right?”
“Did I tell you all of my favourite foods last night?” Celeste laughed.
“Nah,” Calum smiled, “just your top hundred.” he teased, “I'll be back soon.”
Celeste looked down, realizing she was also in a Ferrari shirt. It was Calum’s, the red of it more worn and comfy looking than the shirt Calum had been wearing. It was large on her and when she got out of bed it went just to her upper thighs. The fabric was not made for a woman, not made to curve over a large bum, as Celeste turned to look at herself in the mirror next to the bed, her eyes took in the way the shirt teased. Every movement had it riding a little bit higher, sneaking a sliver of bodaciousness that she was known for.
Her hair was still wavy from it’s styling the night before but all of her makeup was gone.
She had some sort of memory of Calum wiping a warm cloth over her face.
Yes, now she remembered. He’d brought her to the hotel and had insisted on cleaning her up before letting her pass out. He’d wiped the makeup from her face gently while she ranted about food. She missed American food, missed the diner in New York that she went to every Sunday morning for deep-fried chicken and waffles.
The door to the room opened and Calum stepped in, a box full of food in his hands. He set it down on the tabletop next to Celeste’s side of the bed, then he began rearranging the pillows, straightening out the blanket.
“Thanks for the breakfast.” Celeste said, picking up a waffle.
“Don’t mention it.”
“So… are you headed back to New York soon?” she asked.
“There’s another race in under two weeks, I think a lot of us are going to stay here, and then head to Canada together, France after that-”
“Oh my god, I didn’t know you raced in so many countries.”
“This is round six, there’s twenty-one in total, so that’s still fifteen to go.” Calum said, not looking up at her.
“Fifteen more races? Fifteen more countries?” Celeste asked in shock.
“Yeah.”
“Shit.” Celeste chewed on her waffle.
Calum looked down at his watch.
“Do you have somewhere to be?” Celeste asked.
“Yeah, I have to go do training, then meet up with my team and talk about the race yesterday.”
“You’re a busy guy.”
Calum offered her a smile, “sorry I can’t stay longer and have breakfast with you.”
“It’s okay.”
“Are you going back to New York soon?” Calum asked.
“Uh…” Celeste’s mouth was dry, “I'm not sure yet.” her skin was prickling. She’d almost forgotten about the charming brit she’d met two nights before. The brit she’d gone home with. The brit she was meeting up with in- “fuck, I have to go-”
Calum laughed, “got somewhere to be?”
“Yeah a date,” Celeste answered, shoving the waffle in her mouth, “I need to give you your shirt back-” she said around the waffle.
Calum’s expression had changed, but Celeste hadn’t noticed, too busy looking around for her stuff, “Keep it.” Calum said, “You can give it back to me in New York.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I have a lot of Ferrari shirts.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh huh.”
Celeste grabbed her small clutch purse, finding her shirt and skirt on the ground. She pulled the skirt up her legs, the stretchy material hugging her curves as she did a french tuck with the front of her shirt, “Calum, thank you so much for last night, for everything.” she said sincerely, turning to look at the driver.
“Don’t mention it.”
She stepped towards him and wrapped him in a hug. After a moment of hesitation, Calum hugged her back.
“I’ll see you in New York.” she promised as she pulled away, “we’ll have to meet up at the bar or something.”
Calum smiled, but it was forced, “sounds fun.”
“It will be.” Celeste ran to the door, “good luck with everything! Congrats again on your win yesterday.”
“Thanks. Get home safe.”
“I will.”
Then she was gone.
The twelve hours he’d had with her felt like borrowed time. As if he’d somehow stolen those hours from whatever god or being had kept the two of them apart for so long. And now she was gone. Calum felt like Cinderella at midnight, except it was nine AM and he wasn’t a princess in a Disney movie.
He was a formula one driver with a job to do. And he wasn’t about to let a pretty brunette get in the way of his work, even if she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his life.
****
They’d followed each other that day, the notification lighting up Calum’s phone. The first of many pleasant phone buzzes signaling a message from the model. She’d posted a picture of chicken waffles on her story her first day back in New York and Calum hadn’t been able to resist the urge to message her about it, congratulating her on finally quenching her craving.
Conversation with her was easy. Two weeks into casually talking, she’d sent him a meme about friends, saying ‘us.’ it hadn’t thrown Calum off, he considered her a friend too. After all, the best relationships start with friendship, something Calum had learned after many failed attempts at love.
Celeste even congratulated Calum on winning second in the race in Canada and it had shocked him that she’d watched it. “What are friends for?” she’d messaged back, warming Calum’s whole body.
Their friendship reached a new height when she asked for his snapchat, and thus began the great dog snap challenge. Anytime either of them saw a dog, they’d take a picture and send it to the other.
Calum was busy with work. Ferrari was ramping things up, and Calum had his head in the game. Because of this, he didn’t have time to go home, even though he wanted to. Which was why he was so excited when Celeste messaged him to tell him she’d be in England when he was there for Round Ten of the championship.
Calum didn't ask too many questions, too excited to see her.
It was an hour before Celeste’s flight to England, and Calum wondered if he should message her. He finally gave in, it was late for him and he knew if he didn’t message her, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Before he could text her, his phone rang.
He’d had Celeste’s number since they’d met, 45 days ago, not that he was counting, and they’d never called each other.
“Calum! I’m not waking you am i?” Celeste’s voice was worried.
“No, what’s up?”
“Is it okay that I called you?”
“It’s fine, you sound worried.” Calum sat down, eager to give her his full attention.
“Have I ever told you I'm not into flying?” Celeste asked.
Calum chuckled, “no, you never mentioned it.”
“Well, I am, and I don’t know why this is freaking me out so much.”
“I mean, it is a long flight, maybe that’s why?” Calum paused, “you’ll be fine, I promise.”
“Are you my captain Calum?” Celeste asked sarcastically.
“No, but you’ll be fine.” he paused, “hey, when you get here, do you need me to pick you up?”
“No thanks! Harry’s picking me up.”
“Harry?”
“Yeah.”
Calum opened his mouth, then closed it, he wasn’t sure what to say, “I didn't know you were seeing him?” he offered.
“It’s funny, I met him the night before I met you. He actually has been coming to visit me in New York, so I figured it’s my turn to head out to him, and when I saw it would line up with you being there i had to come.”
Calum’s skin was cold. He’d thought she was coming to see him, but as it turned out, he was only fifty percent of the reason. Was he even fifty percent?
“But I’m coming to your race!” Celeste continued, “the training ones and the final one.”
Her terms weren’t correct but Calum couldn’t be bothered to correct her. “Is Harry coming with you too?” Calum asked.
“Yeah, he’ll be around, but I do really want to see you Cal.” there was a muffled sound, then, “they’re boarding so I gotta go. Talking to you really helped Cal. I’ll see you soon! I’m so excited!”
“Me too.” Calum forced out.
“Awesome! Love ya! Bye!”
Calum’s mouth felt dry, his body still frozen, but he managed to say “bye.” then the line clicked and Celeste was gone, but had she ever really been there?
***
He was late. Something that never happened, but he’d been late with Celeste. They’d gone out for drinks her second night England and had stayed up talking and ordering room service until three AM. Calum had lost track of time, another thing he’d never really experienced.
Shoving his legs into his race suit and pulling it up, he ran past a few mechanics, eager to get on the track. He’d had a call early that morning that some rich person had paid a lot of money to have a hot lap with him.
It seemed to be the day of things that had never happened to Calum.
He usually didn’t do hot laps, and Ferrari knew that. There was, allegedly, something special about the person who’d requested him, but that morning, half asleep when his phone rang, Calum had been too tired to ask.
Calum was used to camera’s being shoved in his face and he pushed through them, approaching the signature red car that he’d be using.
“Calum, what’s it like driving one of the most famous British singers in the world?” a reporter asked.
Calum looked up, for the first time getting a glimpse at who he’d be driving around.
Harry Styles looked as Calum always supposed he would. His hair was perfect, and the black jacket he was wearing made him look like he’d come straight out of an Abercrombie and fitch magazine. Or perhaps another magazine, Calum didn’t keep up with fashion.
Then came the dimples.
Calum could have thrown up.
“You must be Calum!” Harry exclaimed, holding out a hand and offering a smile.
Calum shook his hand, hard, not smiling, not saying anything.
Then he remembered the cameras. Remembered that this was his job. Remembered that as the top f1 driver, driving a man with a huge fanbase, the video would probably go viral. Calum forced a smile, “nice to meet you.” he said politely.
“So let's get to it yeah?” Harry asked, his British accent way too charming.
Calum nodded, going around the car to escape the paparazzi. He put his helmet on and took some joy in the fact that Harry would have to do the same, and maybe it would ruin his hair.
There were cameras in the car.
Calum wondered what would happen next.
“Excited for your race, mate.” Harry said, buckling himself in, “you’ve always been the one to watch.”
“Didn’t know you were a big formula one fan.” Calum mused, the engine roaring to life.
“I wasn’t.” Harry admitted, “we have a mutual friend, she got me into it.”
Calum wondered how far Harry would go. After all, there were cameras in the car, and Calum had heard about Harry and his tendency to stay elusive.
That’s when he realized it was serious. The thing between Harry and Celeste.
Harry had spent a lot of money to be in the car with Calum. He was facing the cameras, despite his desire to mostly not produce content.
And he was talking about Celeste.
Calum’s foot stepped onto the petal and the car lurched forward. He hoped that Harry wouldn’t talk anymore. Hoped it would be a quiet ride.
“How did you two meet again?”
“What?”
“Our mutual friend.”
Calum wished he’d just say her name. But he understood why Harry was being aloof. Understood it protected Celeste from being prematurely exposed to his fan base, for better or for worse.
Calum respected it.
“Met in Monaco. She mentioned it was the day after she met you.” Calum said, making a point to mention Harry. He supposed it would ease Harry’s mind, knowing Celeste had mentioned him… even if it had only been a few days earlier. Calum pushed the car faster and then braked hard for a corner, throwing Harry to the side.
“That was a good race by the way.” Harry said, “You came in first, congratulations.”
“I like Monaco.” Calum said, “it’s a special place.”
“It is.” Harry agreed. Calum couldn’t be sure, but Harry seemed satisfied with their interaction. Calum wasn’t sure what he expected, after all, it’s not like the guy was going to come out and be aggressive with him… even if that’s what Calum might have done in his position.
The rest of the drive went smoothly, with Harry complimenting Calum’s driving and even letting out happy hollers at sharp turns.
As the car came to a stop, Harry turned to shake Calum’s hand, “maybe I'll see you tonight.” Harry offered.
“Maybe.” no way in hell.
One last smile and the gorgeous man was gone, out of Calum’s car and hopefully his life.
***
“Are you sure you don’t want to come out?”
“Yeah, I need sleep tonight, the race is tomorrow-”
“Did… I- Harry told me about this morning, said he was eager to meet you, did you like him?”
“He’s fine, I’m just tired.” Calum lied.
Celeste was silent on the other end of the line for a moment, “but tomorrow night, we’re still on, right?”
When she’d first arrived and they’d gotten drinks, Calum had promised to do the same thing after the race. But when he’d promised he’d assumed it would be just the two of them. Calum didn't want to go anymore, “yeah.” he said.
“Okay, because I had a lot of fun last night Cal. Anyways, have a good night, get some sleep, you’re going to be great tomorrow.”
“You promise?” Calum asked.
“I’m your captain, I definitely promise.” Celeste laughed, the sound was magic, “love ya Cal! Talk tomorrow!”
“Love you too.”
He hung up.
***
Celeste’s arms wrapped around him and when Calum lifted her off the ground, her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, “you did it!” she screamed in his ear, a little too loud, but he didn’t care.
He set her down and Celeste pulled way, keeping him close as she looked up at him, “that was amazing Calum!”
“It was nothing-” Calum brushed it off, looking down. He could be cocky about his driving, but not with her. With Celeste, his heart always seemed to swell.
“Calum, you hit every single apex!” Celeste said and Calum’s heart fluttered even more.
She’d learned a term used in F1.
He didn’t even know what to say so he just looked down at her, unable to stop smiling.
“Harry’s not coming, by the way, he had to go back to London for work.” Celeste said, finally pulling away from Calum, “so it’s just us tonight!”
Calum let out a breath, smile widening, “so where are we headed?”
He didn't care that other drivers were probably going to celebrate at a specific location. He only cared about taking every moment with Celeste…. As friends of course.
Of course….
Who was he kidding, Calum knew he was walking a fine line. Part of him wondered what would happen when she came to England… before he’d found out about Harry. And although those ideas were no use anymore, he’d be damned if he didn’t still take advantage of their time together.
“Let's get drinks?” Celeste suggested.
Calum smiled, “sounds perfect.”
***
Calum stared up at the ceiling and Celeste rolled onto her side to look at him. Calum smiled, turning to look at her too, “what?”
“I’m just…” Celeste studied him, “I haven't really had any guy friends before. All the guys I know try to be my friend just to get me in bed. And we’re here and you’re not trying anything.”
Calum coughed awkwardly, sitting up, “well, you’re seeing Harry.”
Celeste rolled onto her back, hair fanning over the pillow, “yeah.”
“How is that going? You didn’t talk much about him last time we hung out.” it was true. They’d been together for hours and Celeste hadn’t mentioned him once.
Celeste took a deep breath, “I really like him. I think. I don’t know. When I was a teenager and he was in One Direction he was huge. And, like every other teenage girl on earth, I was definitely a fan of his. Being with him feels… well, it’s odd. He’s a great guy but I almost feel like I enjoy the grandeur of him. I enjoy the Harry that I know from social media…” there was a pause, then, “fuck, this is why I’m trying not to get drunk anymore. I always want to talk about philosophy and end up confusing myself even more. Forget I said anything, I’m being stupid.”
Calum looked at her, watching the way her chest rose and fell. Her eyes were closed. She was frowning.
It was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her.
Calum laid down next to her, “I'm sure you’ll figure it out.”
“I’ll probably just do what I always do, stick with it until something really bad happens, then run away.”
“That doesn’t sound healthy.” Calum stated.
Celeste smiled, “Never said it was.” she yawned, “can I stay here tonight?”
“Sure… do you need me to build a pillow wall like last time?” Calum teased.
“For your protection or mine?” Celeste flirted, but Calum knew it was just for the sake of teasing, her expression changed, “why did you have to make a pillow fort last time?”
“You asked for one.”
“So you just built me one?”
“Of course.”
“You’re really sweet, has anyone ever told you that?” Celeste asked, pulling the covers over her body.
“No.”
“Well, people should tell you you’re sweet more often.” Celeste’s eyes were closed and from the wispy tone of her voice, Calum knew she was about three seconds from falling asleep.
“Goodnight Celeste.”
“Goodnight Cal.”
***
Calum stared at the deep-fried chicken on top of waffles. Celeste looked like a kid in a candy shop and Calum was shocked she’d even found a place that served her favourite breakfast. She looked adorable, having stolen one of his Ferrari hats and a shirt.
It was big on her, but he loved it.
“Cal, can you take a pic of me and my waffles?” Celeste asked, handing him her phone.
“Sure.” he said, adjusting the camera as Celeste made a face, tongue out, fingers up in peace signs.
He took a few pictures, smiling down at them before he handed the phone back.
“Do you mind if I tag you?” Celeste asked, “I mean, I am the new Ferrari spokesperson after all.” she joked, flipping the hat so it was backwards.
“Sure.”
He watched her. She was so focused on making the post, it was her job after all.
Calum wondered if Harry would mind that she was tagging him. But… as was plainly obvious, he was just Celeste’s friend.
Sitting there, across from the gorgeous model, Calum decided he’d be just that: a friend. He’d be there for her always, or as long as she wanted him around. He’d take her out for waffles and make blanket forts and support her, even if it meant supporting her with another man.
He’d be whatever she needed him to be. And if that was simply a friend, so be it.
***
“Can you believe you’re almost done the world championship?” Celeste asked.
Calum smiled. It had been five months since they’d met. This championship had felt particularly long for some reason, “miss me already?” Calum teased.
He’d been coming back to New York on his time off as much as he could. He was living for the nights he and Celeste spent at the bar they should have met in. The bar that, if he’d had the balls, could have been where they’d met months before. Could have been where they had their first date-
“Of course I do Cal!” Celeste said, “fuck, I wanted to tell you once you got here, but, I can’t hold it in anymore!”
Calum’s skin felt cold and anxiety overcame it. She’d been getting more and more excited about Harry and any time she had news, Calum was scared what it would be.
“Harry and I are getting married.”
Calum’s mouth was dry, when he opened his mouth to speak it hurt and he had to swallow thickly, giving him the time to think, “congratulations.”
“You’ll come right?”
“When is it?” Calum asked, worried by the eagerness in her voice.
Celeste and Harry had just come out as a couple a month earlier, when he’d taken her to an event. Calum hadn’t looked at the pictures but Celeste had sent him snaps of her dress before she went, and Calum had been so upset he’d gone to a gym to punch things.
“Harry wants it soon, weird right? I didn’t think he was the marriage type.”
Calum bit his tongue. He’d never brought up the night in England when Celeste had told him she worried about why she was with Harry. He wanted to bring it up.
He chose not to.
“Anyways, next month I think?”
Calum’s chest hurt.
“So you’re coming right?” the hope in her voice made it worse.
“I’ll be there.” Calum choked out, “I have to go.”
“Aw really?”
“Yeah, sorry, talk later?” Calum collapsed into his bed.
“Good luck in your race tomorrow. Last one, then you’re coming home.”
Home. He’d wondered before if home was a feeling. He’d felt it every time he was in the bar with Celeste, or grabbing waffles, or with her staring at the stars or even the ceiling.
He wondered if he’d ever feel home again.
***
Alexa looked at Calum. He’d not been impressed to be there. Every time Celeste came out in a new white dress, he’d put on a big happy face, but as soon as Celeste was gone he’d frown again, sitting back and sighing.
“Aren’t you happy for her?” Alexa asked. She’d heard about Calum and Celeste being good friends. Hell, part of Alexa wondered if Calum had surpassed her on the friend scale. Not that Alexa had minded, she was busy and working in LA more and more, which made it harder to keep up with Celeste.
“Yeah. Of course.” Calum said.
“You don’t look happy.” Alexa pointed out.
Before Calum could respond, Celeste called for Alexa’s help and Alexa disappeared. Calum pulled out his phone, opening Celeste’s Instagram. The newest picture was one he’d taken. Celeste bending over the pool table to take a shot. She’d kicked his ass that night, and Calum smiled sadly, wondering if she’d still be up for dodgy bar nights after she was married.
Movement caught his eye and he looked up.
Celeste was standing there in the new wedding dress. It had a form-fitting corset that showed off her curves. Plain white and silky with harsher lines rather than a softly rounded neckline. Beautiful tulle layers of soft white fabric puffed out from under the corset.
She looked like a princess.
Calum’s heart leaped in his chest and he looked at her with eyes that betrayed everything… to Alexa, who was watching him carefully.
“What do you guys think?” Celeste asked, spinning.
“It’s the one.” Calum stated.
“I agree.” Alexa nodded.
Celeste beamed, her whole body alight with happiness as she looked at him, “I think so too.”
Celeste turned to go back into the changeroom and Alexa caught Calum’s eye, she frowned at him and Calum looked away.
Alexa felt bad for Calum, and as she helped Celeste out of the dress, Alexa also realized how much respect she had for the man. He’d said he was coming to the wedding. Alexa wondered if that was true.
***
He couldn’t do it.
He had to do it.
Calum sighed, leaning over the sink and splashing water onto his face. When he stood up, the face looking back at him in the mirror seemed put together.
Calum wished it was true.
The door to the bathroom opened and Alexa peeked her head in, “Cal?”
“This is the men’s bathroom.” Calum said, upset that she was disrupting him when he needed time alone.
“Celeste wanted me to come check on you.”
The anger in Calum’s shoulders disappeared and he took a deep breath, turning to Alexa, “I’m fine.” he lied.
Alexa stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, “you’re at your best friend's rehearsal dinner the night before her wedding. Your best friend, who I might add, you’re in love with.”
Calum swallowed thickly, he wasn’t sure what to say.
“It’s okay to admit it to someone Calum.” Alexa said, “I'm sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Calum sighed, running a hand through his curls, “it’s my own fucking fault.”
“It’s not.”
“It is. I should have said something.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.” Calum said, voice rising, “but I should have. Before the wedding, before the engagement, before-��� he cut himself off, turning to rest his hands on the sink again, head bowed, “it doesn’t matter.”
“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re a really great guy.” Alexa said. There was a pause, then the bathroom door opened.
Celeste stuck her head in, eyes drifting between Alexa and Calum. For a moment she was expressionless, then she smiled, “what are you two up to?”
“Just talking.” Alexa said, “Calum needs to tell you something.”
Celeste entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She looked radiant as ever, in a soft lavender silky dress that Calum longed to touch. It lit up the green of her eyes and the tanness of her skin and Calum’s mouth went dry looking at her.
It had hurt to spend the whole dinner seated next to her, watching her laugh with Harry. Calum could barely stand it anymore.
“So…” Celeste said, “what’s up?” she looked between Alexa and Calum again.
“I’m going to give you two privacy.” Alexa said, quickly leaving.
Celeste turned to Calum, concern on her face, “is something wrong?”
Calum’s heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Celeste waited patiently, searching his face for a sign of what was to come.
This was the time to say it. The time to tell her how he felt.
He couldn’t do it.
Couldn’t bear the thought of making her upset, two days before her wedding.
“You’re not coming to the wedding are you?” Celeste frowned.
“No.” Calum breathed out before he could stop himself. He wouldn’t have said it on his own, wouldn't have brought it up, but now that she had… now that she was verbalizing it, he realized there was no way in hell he’d be able to go. Celeste’s eyes were welling with tears and Calum was quick to wipe them away before they could drip down her chin and tarnish her dress, “hey, it’s not you, I uh- work.”
The lie also slipped out before he could stop it. He couldn’t make her think it was her fault. Couldn’t tell her the truth.
“Work called.” he said, sounding more certain, “there’s a new thing they’re trying on my car so I have to get on a plane.”
“You’re flying out?” Celeste asked in confusion, “but your tournament just ended? I thought you were home for good? I planned the wedding so you could come-”
Calum’s heart broke at her words. He brushed more tears away from her face, hands cupping her cheeks. Celeste grabbed his wrists, looking up at him with those big green eyes.
His voice cracked when he spoke, “I’m sorry.”
Celeste moved his hands away from her face and hugged him, her body pressed against his front. Calum’s arms wrapped around her, “you’re going to have a great wedding.” he said, voice hoarse, “big and white and just what you wanted.”
Celeste cried harder and Calum wanted to go outside and crash his ferrari into a wall.
The door to the bathroom opened and Harry peaked his head in, immediately entering when he saw Celeste crying, “What happened?!” Harry asked.
Celeste pulled away from Calum and stepped instead into Harry’s arms, not saying anything as she cried.
“I got called in for work so I can’t make the wedding, I'm flying out tonight.” Calum said. It was easier to lie to Harry, “Celeste is upset I won't be there.”
Harry studied Calum for a moment, then he nodded, “I'm sorry you can’t make it.”
“Me too.” he paused, “I'll go grab Alexa, she’ll have makeup, I don't want to ruin your night-”
“When are you leaving?” Celeste asked suddenly, turning to look at him.
“In two hours.” he lied, eager to have an excuse to leave.
He was glad Celeste was too shocked by the sudden turn of events to ask many questions or prod him for answers. He didn't have any answers. Knew the lies were weak.
Calum turned to leave but Celeste grabbed his hand, “when do you come back?”
“I don’t know.” Calum answered. He didn't know anything.
He’d go to Italy in a few days, that was Ferrari's home base. He’d learn some more Italian so his mechanics could talk to him, he’d-
“Calum?”
“Yeah?”
Celeste opened her mouth then closed it, then opened it again “don’t hurt yourself.”
“I won’t.” Calum looked at her quizzically, unsure where the sudden warning had come from, “send me pictures from the wedding okay?” he wouldn’t look at them.
Celeste nodded. She said nothing else and neither did Calum.
He left the bathroom, bumping into Alexa in the hallway, “what happened?!” Alexa asked, shocked by the tears that were welling in Calum’s eyes.
“I’m skipping the wedding.”
“Did you tell her you love her?” Alexa whispered, following Calum as he attempted to leave the venue.
“No.”
“So what happened?!”
“Told her I’m leaving the country tonight for work-”
“Calum!” Alexa grabbed his arm and made him stop, looking around to make sure no one was looking at them, “you can’t leave.”
“I’m going to go to Italy-”
“You can’t!” Alexa insisted.
“Why not?” Calum asked, beginning to get angry.
“Just-” Alexa looked around again, voice lowering, “please stay in town. Until after the wedding, then you can go wherever you want, you can be out of here tomorrow night. But… trust me Calum. It’s better if you’re here.”
“Why?”
“I just… I have a feeling.”
“A feeling?” Calum laughed, but there was no humour in it.
“Celeste is my best friend. She’s never said anything to me about you but-” Alexa cut herself off as a server walked by, looking at the two brunettes huddled together in secrecy, “just don’t leave the country. Promise me.”
Calum sighed, “fine. I’ll stay, but I’m getting a ticket for tomorrow night. then I’m gone.”
“Okay.”
Calum studied Celeste’s best friend. Wondered what she was thinking. Wondered what she couldn’t say.
***
Celeste had managed to get herself put together for the remaining rehearsal dinner, it was near done anyways. She’d gone home with Alexa, to the apartment they shared when they were both in the city.
Celeste would be moving out as soon as she returned from her honeymoon and her things were already in boxes, a suitcase packed for the trip Harry had planned to celebrate the wedding.
Alexa watched Celeste mope around. If Alexa didn’t know any better, she would have assumed Celeste had just been dumped.
Except that she hadn’t.
“Your wedding is tomorrow, aren’t you excited?” Alexa asked, passing a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream to her friend.
“Yeah,” Celeste frowned, “but Cal won’t be there.”
“Harry will. That’s what matters right?”
Celeste took a deep breath, “yeah.”
“What are you thinking Celeste?” Alexa asked, a question she’d become accustomed to asking. Celeste didn't open up much, even when prodded.
“I don’t know.” Celeste fell down onto her bed, careful not to drop the ice cream.
Her eyes went to the wedding dress hanging there, then to the picture of her and Calum that they’d taken in Italy months earlier. The two of them at Ferrari HQ where he’d shown her around and explained all the cars to her, talking in mangled Italian to the workers who’d smiled at his attempts.
Celeste groaned loudly, “well. I’m getting married tomorrow.”
“Uh huh.” Alexa didn’t sound too convinced.
***
Celeste paced back and forth, hands on her hips. It was an odd sight but not a surprising one for Alexa who stood there watching the fully dressed bride have a panic attack.
“What time is it?!” Celeste asked suddenly, turning to look at Alexa.
“Eleven forty. wedding is in twenty minutes.”
“Oh my god.” Celeste fell onto a chair, hiding her face in her hands while careful not to smudge her makeup.
“Talk to me Celeste.” Alexa said, kneeling in front of her friend.
Celeste looked at Alexa from behind her fingers, then took a deep breath. For a moment Alexa thought Celeste would actually open up, then her mouth shut, “this is a mess.” Celeste whispered.
Alexa sighed, “Celeste. Is it possible, that the reason you were so upset when Calum left last night, is because you wanted him at the wedding-”
“Of course I want him there!” Celeste frowned.
“But maybe not as someone in the crowd? Maybe as the groom?” Alexa asked.
Celeste looked shocked for a moment, staring at her friend as if she’d just said she believed the earth was flat, “what?”
“You and Calum.” Alexa said softly, “do you love him?”
“Of course I love him.”
“As more than a friend.” Alexa specified.
“I-” Celeste looked distressed, “I’m getting married to Harry-”
“Just answer the question.” Alexa took Celeste’s hand gently.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. He chose work over being at my wedding and left the country last night-”
“He doesn’t have work today, and he didn’t leave the country.”
“What?!”
“He didn't come because he couldn’t stand to see you with Harry anymore.”
“What?!” Celeste said, louder this time.
“He loves you.”
Celeste stood up abruptly and Alexa followed suit. Alexa had expected Celeste to be ranting, but the girl in front of her was oddly silent.
Celeste’s hands were shaking as she pulled out her phone. She hit speaker and the sound of ringing filled the room.
“Celeste? Are you okay?” Calum’s voice was worried.
“You lied.”
“What?”
“You’re still in New York?” her voice cracked. The line was quiet, Celeste bit her lip, “can… can you come, and bring your car please?”
“I-”
“Calum please.” Celeste said.
She’d never been one to beg, but there she was. Begging in her wedding dress.
“I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Please hurry.”
***
Calum got out of the car but it didn’t matter, Celeste was already running down the steps. Her hands clutched the dress, lifting it up as to not dirty it.
She was, in every sense of the word, a runaway bride.
And Calum had never been more in love with her.
He held the door open for the car. He’d chosen the one without a top, it was old but still luxurious. A few girls had told him it was the black version of the car people drove off into the sunset in Grease, but Calum had never fact-checked that claim.
Celeste was beaming. Glowing really. And Calum was smiling back at her, helping her tuck her entire dress into the car before he closed the door and ran to the driver's seat.
The car roared to life, like a battle cry, or perhaps a battle won.
“I need to go to my apartment.” Celeste said and Calum didn’t question it.
She’d yet to tell him anything. But since they were driving away from the church, Calum guessed the wedding was over. He was guilty that it made him happy.
The radio was playing club music, the type of hype music Calum liked to drive to, and Celeste turned it up. Her hair was getting messed up by the air whipping by them but Celeste was laughing, arms in the air.
She looked beautiful. Like a girl going to her wedding, not one running away.
Calum snuck glances at her at the first red light.
He could almost forget about Harry.
Until they drove up to the apartment and Harry was waiting there, leaning against his car. One of his friends was in the driver's seat, but he didn't get out of the car.
The look on Harry’s face was stony and it was obvious to Calum that he knew what was coming. “Calum, I need to talk to him is that okay?”
“Of course.” Calum answered.
Like Harry’s driver, Calum stayed in his car. Watching his best friend, the bride to be, get out and walk towards Harry. They were both dressed for the wedding, and it was odd to see them out on the New York street, even if it was a quiet one.
“Celeste, we need to be at the church-” Harry said.
“Harry, I love you but I can't marry you.” Celeste stated, “and I’m so sorry it took me this long to figure it out.”
Harry was quiet.
“You’re one of the most wonderful people I've ever met.” Celeste continued, “and I needed to tell you this in person, but I can't do this. We’ve only been seeing each other for six months and we’re rushing things, don’t you think we’re rushing things?”
Harry sighed but nodded, he’d had the feeling too.
“Besides, we’re amazing friends and I do love you Harry, but I’m not in love with you.”
“Not the way you are with Calum.” Harry stated.
It knocked the air out of Celeste’s lungs. It was as if everyone had known her feelings except her, and maybe Calum, “I-”
“It’s okay.” Harry held up a hand, “s’ not like I would have been able to live in New York forever, and you can’t give up your sodding chicken and waffles.”
“Don’t bash the deep-fried chicken and waffles Harold.” Celeste said, faking offense, but then she was smiling and so was Harry.
“Come here.” Harry said, opening his arms.
They hugged and Celeste was happy neither of them were crying. It showed that this was right.
“I’m not going to deal with wedding guests.” Harry mused while pulling away.
“Me neither.” Celeste said, “we could both just not show up? That sounds like a good song.”
“You have left me with a lot of material.” Harry laughed, “well, I'll see you around Celeste.”
“See you around Harry.” Celeste said fondly, giving the brit one last smile before he got into his car and left. Then she bounded over to the car, leaning down to rest her arms on Calum’s door, “hey.”
“That looked like it went okay.” Calum said.
“It did. So, my bags are packed upstairs for a honeymoon that I’m not going on… what do you say we go somewhere?”
Calum smiled, “where to princess?”
“Take me back to Monte Carlo.”
***
The sound of the hotel room door opening woke Celeste up, her eyes landing on Calum. They’d arrived the night before and had immediately passed out, both too jetlagged to do much. Calum offered her a smile and Celeste stretched, yawning the words “where were you?”
“Wanted to get you breakfast but I didn't think the stuff downstairs was up to your standards.” Calum said, leaning on a wall. He wasn’t sure where to stand.
They were in Monaco.
They’d talked and watched movies the entire flight but neither had brought up the wedding.
He wasn’t sure where he stood with her. Wasn’t sure what he was allowed to ask.
Celeste could feel his awkwardness as she studied him. Then she stood up, adjusting the Ferrari shirt she was wearing. “Calum?”
“Hm?”
“Come here?”
Calum smiled softly, uncrossing his arms over his chest, he took a few steps forward. Celeste held out her arms and pulled Calum to her, looking up at him, “Calum. Do you know I love you?”
“Yeah.” Calum said, he’d heard it many times, after every phone call, after every ride he gave her home after a hangout.
“Do you know I'm in love with you?”
Calum’s breath caught in his chest and he wet his lips, mind racing. The thought that he was the reason for her ditching her wedding had crossed his mind but he’d pushed it to the side, instead deciding to be, as always, Celeste’s friend.
“Calum?” Celeste breathed his name, brushing her fingers over his cheekbone.
Instead of speaking he kissed her.
He’d gone so long not saying the words ringing through his brain, they could wait a little while longer.
His lips were soft on Celeste’s at first, hesitant, as if he was afraid she would pull away. Only when Celeste wrapped her arms around the back of his neck did he get more comfortable, one hand cupping her face while the other went to her waist, pulling her closer.
Calum pulled away and his entire body shuddered for a moment, in something like pure ecstasy, maybe shock.
Celeste smiled up at him, kissing his lips once more softly, “Are you okay?” she asked.
Calum laughed, returning her grin, he shook his head a little, “I just-” he couldn’t find the right words to explain how he was feeling, Celeste waited patiently and- god, he loved her so much.
She could see it in his eyes.
Calum’s fingers dug into Celeste’s hips and she beamed at him, brushing her fingers against his cheeks. She could feel what was unsaid and almost appreciated it more because he couldn’t find the words to say it. She’d always had a connection with Calum that seemed to be on another level, and moments like this confirmed it to her.
Moments like this. She enjoyed the thought of that, of more to come.
“Are you going to kiss me again?” Celeste teased, eyes darting down to look at his lips then up at him again.
Calum kissed her, not as hesitant as the first kiss. His hands went to her waist immediately, one of them dipping down to just above her bum. His fingers bunched in the red fabric and the cool air met Celeste’s ass. She was in a thong, Calum hadn't noticed yet because she’d been covered by the shirt since the night before, but when his hand dipped a little lower, he groaned into her mouth and Celeste knew he’d discovered the flimsy fabric covering her.
His hand kneaded her ass harshly, and Celeste smiled against his lips, loving the way it felt, loving the way Calum was groaning in anticipation. Celeste pressed against his front, already able to feel his hard on straining his grey sweats.
Then Celeste pulled away and Calum let her go, eyes opening questioningly.
Celeste pulled off the Ferrari shirt Calum had given her, revealing her near nudity underneath. Calum licked his lips, eyes focused on her chest. Then Celeste sat down onto the bed, her thick thighs looking deliciously curvy and grabable, Calum couldn’t hold himself back. He was between her legs before he could help himself, kneeling on the floor and tearing off her black silk thong.
“Calum!” Celeste laughed, fingers tangling in his curls. She’d not expected him to be so eager, expected him to go for kissing first. She had no idea how long he’d been waiting to taste her.
Calum’s fingers danced over Celeste’s calf and he moved it to be on his shoulder, his lips trailing up higher and higher. He kissed both thighs, nipping a little at the skin, fingers digging in as he held her in place.
“So pretty.” he mused, more to himself than anything.
Her fingers gripped his curls when his lips finally met her, wrapping around her clit. He’d had enough buildup. Enough teasing. He wanted to hear her moaning his name, wanted to watch her come undone under him.
The first moan was soft, more like a whimper, and Calum’s whole body felt like it was lit in flame. He sucked harder on her clit, fingers digging into her delicious thighs where they were on his shoulders. Her skin was warm and smelled like flowers, he wondered how she always smelled so good.
Celeste’s eyes were closed, lips parted, sinful, soft noises whispered into the cosmos as her lover devoured her.
Her lover… yes, that is what he was.
Calum was her lover in every sense of the word. It had just taken her a long time to realize it. He did everything for her and as he brought her to her first high, her heart filled with love. Love that had always been there, unidentified and growing. Now that she knew what it was, she was never going to let him go.
Calum licked his lips, looking up at Celeste. Her eyes were still closed, chest rising and falling softly as she chased her breath. He took her legs off of his shoulders and Celeste opened her eyes, looking down at him with a lazy smile. A comfortable smile. As if they’d done this a thousand times, “hi.” she said, voice near a whisper.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Her smile widened, “come here.” she said, instead of answering his question.
Calum moved to be on the bed with her, settled between her legs that wrapped around his waist.
He kissed her shoulder first, then her collarbone, moving up her neck before he reached her lips. When he kissed her, he kissed her gently. One of his hands came up to brush over her nipple, earning a soft shudder from Celeste that made him smile against her lips. “You’re so beautiful.” he told her, kisses traveling to her neck as she wrapped her arms around him, a sigh of content leaving her lips, “fucking love you.” he murmerred.
Celeste’s skin felt warm and her heart lurched in her chest. She knew he loved her, but hearing him say it was different. She brought his lips back to hers and kissed him like her life depended on it, part of her thought it did.
The pressure of his hard, clothes cock, against her sensitive entrance had her moaning within seconds, eager to get rid of Calum’s clothes. Soon, his Ferrari shirt has joined the one she was wearing on the floor and his joggers following soon after.
“I wanna top.” Celeste said against Calum’s lips and he paused, giving her a look but agreeing. He got onto his back and watched her straddle him, lining herself up with him. She sank down slowly, both of them groaning at the way it felt.
He had to admit it was a beautiful view. The first bounce had her breasts moving in a way that made Calum’s mouth water. His hands reached up to cup her breasts and Celeste moaned, continuing to bounce up and down on him.
Calum hadn’t had many religious experiences in his life.
This was one of them.
One of his hands went down to her ass, giving it a test smack that made Celeste laugh, her eyes opening. Her hands went to his chest and she leaned over him, kissing his neck while she continued bouncing up and down. He could see the way her ass was moving with each bounce and Calum groaned, eyes closing as he enjoyed the way it felt.
He was usually the top, usually the one doing all the work. It was nice to just lay back and relax and be doted on, especially since he loved her. Every kiss made him tingle and his heart was racing in his chest.
He felt the way he always felt after a race. It was exhilarating.
His arms wrapped around Celeste, slowing her motions so he could roll them so he was on top. The pace he wanted was faster than the one she had been giving him, and now it was his turn to make her feel good.
She looked so beautiful under him, and the feeling of her breasts pressed against his bare chest did not go unnoticed. He wanted to be kissing her, touching her, loving her.
He angled his hips differently, hitting a spot inside of her that had Celeste’s legs tightening around his waist, “holy shit.” she breathed, moaning loudly.
Her fingers went to his curls again, tugging lightly at the dark strands. Their lips were passionate and slow against each other, tongues clashing, teeth biting. Then Calum grabbed one of her hands, interlocking their fingers as he pressed it down into the bed.
“I’m gonna-” Celeste began but Calum cut her off with his lips, pace quickening.
The whole bed was moving with each thrust, and Celeste’s whines were getting louder as he kissed her. He could feel her fluttering around him, a sign of her impending high. Celeste squeezed Calum’s fingers tight, high whimpers stopping as her whole body tensed, orgasm hitting her.
She was so tight around him that Calum came too, thrusts getting sloppy as they rode out their highs. Their kisses were open-mouthed, both of them moaning into each other's mouths.
When they were both done, Calum stopped gripping her hand so hard, instead, he pressed soft kisses over her face. “Fuck, I love you.” he whispered.
Celeste smiled up at him, “I love you more.”
“Not possible.”
***
The usual patrons of the bar watched the gorgeous couple play pool.
She was dressed in red, a colour she’d adopted to support her boyfriend. The colour made her glow, but her boyfriend’s smile was brighter. He watched her with complete adoration, even when she sunk a ball and got one step closer to beating him.
They were the same people they’d been when they were strangers.
He’d quit smoking, claiming he didn't need the high anymore, after all, he was with the love of his life. He still sometimes brought a cigarette or two to give to the bouncers, chatting with them outside before joining Celeste in the bar.
Celeste still played pool with girls who challenged her, but this time, Calum would come to stand behind her. Watching, his arms looped around his girlfriend, enjoying the way she chatted to the girls like they were old friends.
But they were happier, elevated versions of themselves. They’d always dazzled before, but together, they were an unstoppable force. They had the type of happiness people could only dream of.
Calum had always heard that if you dated your best friends, things would be okay.
With Celeste, his best friend, in his arms, he knew it was true. Her smile was contagious, it always had been. Watching her dance away, her dress teasing him, Calum was thankful for everything that had happened.
There’d been a time he hated himself for not talking to her, but it had led him to where they were now. He’d never believed in fate.
He did now.
********
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#calum hood#calum hood oneshot#calum hood one shot#oc#celeste#softforcal#5sos#5sos smut#5sos oneshot#5sos one shot#calum hood smut#calum 5sos#5 seconds of summer#5 seconds of summer oneshot#5 seconds of summer one shot#f1#f1 calum hood#racecar driver calum hood#au#racecar 5sos#racecar calum hood#nascar#nascar calum hood#oneshot
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nct dream on social media!
excluding weibo, messenger apps, and dating apps
note: this is purely my personal opinion. kinda inspired by my irls :)
mark
he loves to share what he does when he can
on instagram he’s the kinda guy who isn’t really... there
busy boy finding out about news a whole week late
when he posts stories it’s usually like... super vague pictures of music or lyrics he’s working on
probably one or two basic shots of food
AND ESPECIALLY
shares what he’s listening to on spotify I Kid You Not
if mark lee posts a story it’s probably going to be what he’s listening to on spotify
he’s more active on twitter because uh
memes
mostly quoted retweets tbh
his replies are always just “HAHAHAHAHA” or “LMAOOOO” and some goofy one-liner
has mutuals on stan twt because he likes to steal the memes
it’s honestly like ????
tweets mostly in english but korean is always there
you would find him laughing his ass off and why? because one of his mutuals tweeted something off of punhub
“can you perform under pressure?”
“no, but i can perform bohemian rhapsody”
or
“doctor, it hurts when i do this”
“then don’t do that”
I SWEAR TO GOD THIS DUDE HAS THE FUNNIEST TL
not only because of punhub trust me
he’s mostly on local twt just on about netflix shows and music because he doesn’t have enough to time rlly branch out into one community other than his own
has tried uploading his works on soundcloud but just feels more comfortable uploading covers and stuff on youtube
he’d accidentally get in everyone’s recommended because hey here’s a talented man on the guitar who’s goofy and cute
BUT ANYWAYS
overall since he’s a very busy person he’s not too active, but social media kind of gives him a little laugh every once in a while so that’s great
renjun
say it with me, instagram
the prettiest golden hour selfies
your resident pretty boy
says he Doesn’t Care About Fashion but then posts a body shot of his fit smh
can’t complain because he’s mad fine let’s be real here
he has an account for every single social media out there but isn’t always active on every account
i swear to god he;s made a linkedin account
the way he’s probably made a mf foursquare account…
he’s just such an all-around sociable guy he just has mutuals everywhere
i mean the entertainment industry is all about connections so
go get it reonjeon!
makes an appearance in everyone’s social media like he’s EVERYWHERE
jaemin’s instagram? check. jisung’s tiktok? check! chenle’s twitter? check. he’s in everyone’s mentions fr
his stories are always reposts of other posts and of the stories he’s tagged in
work socmed! he makes his career look so comfy and homey from his posts and stories
was one of those guys who used to be super active on snapchat but gave up after insta stories became a thing
mans stalks more people than you think… he’s just a sly dude
not in a creepy way ofc he just gets pretty lost within the internet
you could actually play any trending tiktok audio and you’d hear him sing along every word in the background… what has this mf been doin??? uhm???
sends posts he thinks are funny to ig and twt gcs
mostly to jisung because he’s the only one who actually leaves SOME sort of reaction whether it be double tapping the text or going ㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎ
likes to visit pinterest every once in a while because it’s like a nice eye cleanse
it’s also good outfit and food inspiration in the cases that he feels like creating something non career related
in general he just likes looking for new ideas and sometimes pinterest is just a great outlet for a visual layout like that
renjun and jisung, THESE TWO
they scour the internet together
goin wild with the crack videos with jisung
jeno
this dude is nowhere
like. he has thousands of followers on instagram and for WHAT
twitter page: empty
snapchat: gave up after insta stories
insta stories: DOESN’T EVEN POST SO WHAT’S THE POINT
but he’s like almost always actively liking everything on your timeline
like... every post on your feed is “liked by jeno and xx others”
WHERE IS THIS DUDE
texting him becomes a game through all the different dm platforms online
like will he open his twitter dms today or will he only answer if you furiously facetime him
some days it’s katalk and somedays he just chooses to ignore you
PURPOSELY SO YOU HAVE TO CALL HIM
anyways when he does post on instagram it’s usually just his surroundings and daily activities
or his cats
yeah
does a lot of things with his friends so you’ll probably find him tagged in the dreamies’ stories
but not anywhere else for some reason
he’s more active on twitter!
he kind of feels more relaxed on twitter since it isn’t based on images
tweets out of context things
like a random “fml” out of nowhere and you’re like okay i guess
pretty vague too
doesn’t really make an effort to make any mutuals because it’s kind of like a vent place for him
stays on private
friends only so... about 30 followers and that’s it
people who follow his Instagram don’t really know his twt so it relieves him a bit
food videos on youtube
not mukbangs but like
very nice cooking videos
like have y’all heard of Nino’s Kitchen
he loves that shit BET
the greatest mix between dry sarcasm, humorous attacks and beautiful food
mans just likes real life interactions i guess
haechan
youtube addict!
gamer haechan
he could spend DAYS on youtube and just forget about time and space altogether
just finds the best rabbit holes to go into from music to snails to gaming to fancams
also on tiktok but his tiktok is on instagram ya feel
finds it stupid but so, so entertaining
loves watching those makeup and art tiktoks because they’re so well done
humor tiktoks on his explore page
number one edit fanatic
mans loves watching edits on instagram and how they’re so well made like
he’s truly one to appreciate art
his stories are uploaded on the weirdest times of day
want a video of him serenading the camera at two in the morning? sign yourself up
twitter is lowkey his diary
he just tweets whatever is happening all day errday
sometimes he completely forgets about the existence of twitter altogether so there are days where he’s on twitter every second but there are weeks where it’s just CRICKETS
loves to listen to other people’s playlists
open to new vibes (but no hateful vibes!)
still does snapchat streaks... hm
and who might he be talking to?
his snapchat streaks are always the same shot of the window or some scenery from his apartment
the kind of guy who snaps you until goddamn 4am
make room for online boyfriend hyuck
goes on twitch for the fun of it when he’s too busy to play
finds it real satisfying to just see the streamers engage with the audience while being real good at what they do
either way he’s just always on youtube but when he isn’t he’s usually just consuming content instead of uploading content
but when he does post anything it’s like quality!!
jaemin
unlike jeno, this man is EVERYWHERE
and when i mean everywhere i mean he’s also on letterboxd (!!!) and soundcloud
maybe this is just an excuse for me to force the jaemin film and photography student agenda
this man has customised every part of every profile on social media
except for linkedin
folks, his instagram is just pictures of everyone else but him
even on soundcloud his self-written songs are sung by other members in nct
his insta stories are the only place you can actually hear his voice
insta stories are just food and friends
and by friends i mean wtf moments at the dream dorm
memes all over twitter
steals memes pretty regularly
like he’d always like the tweets before stealing and those tweets would always end up in your tl so whenever he uses those memes in your convos it’s just like
aHa i see
posts “mood” tweets
mostly replies to other people rather than making his own tweets
loves to do deep dives on youtube because he always discovers the cutest music
also gets the best inspiration from youtube
has a few favourite youtubers and genuinely appreciates their content
again, inspiration
watches lots of movies but doesn’t really leave any reviews so he just gives a few stars (or none) on letterboxd
the kind of guy who’s glued to his phone
i don’t blame him
his phone is full of content
still on snapchat apparently
but he’s the kind of dude that just sends streaks every day and updates his snapchat story like never
his streaks... lmao
usually goes for a black screen with a plain “s” or just a random shot of his bedsheets
but if he considers you a close friend he might get distracted and send you a bunch of videos of him playing with filters
he really does think they’re quite the fascination
maybe he’s just bored lol social media is pretty expansive
chenle
he’s like jeno but gives less fucks
so... instagram and twitter are equally chaotic
such a mood
just makes you go WHAT IS THIS DUDE UP TO
this dude is usually just Chillin
and he gets bored so he just brain farts into twitter
whenever there’s a basketball game he’s watching he’ll fill your entire timeline with out of context reactions
also kind of a random out of context dude who posts things at the weirdest times of the day/night
doesn’t give enough fucks to go on private
gets a lot of followers on twt solely because so many people find his life so fascinating like hm...
what might zhong chenle be doing at this time of day
on instagram it’s kind of a different story because uh he might have to think twice about whether or not he wants a certain picture on his feed
but then again, no fucks
so he’s like meh okay sure i’ll post it
pics of food and places he’s been to and laid back selfies and #tbt type beat
NOT WAYV’S TURN BACK TIME I MEAN THROWBACK THURSDAY
but he does a lot of promo for nct and wayv
get that bag boy!
chenle on instagram is like hyuck on twitter: he can go weeks being completely inactive but one day he suddenly remembers the existence of instagram and posts five pictures in a day
all with either no caption or like the vaguest “ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ” or “哈哈哈哈”
if y’all have seen his weibo then y’all would know his twt would be filled with “哈哈哈哈哈”
mentions everyone (especially jisung) in each and every single one of his insta stories
replies to random comments
eternal chenle menpa how bout that
goes on wattpad and ao3 for the fun of it
actually kind of enjoys some of the work on wattpad... his fav trope is enemies to lovers
that one mutual that casually likes all your tweets
he would literally spam like all your pictures/tweets as soon as you guys become mutuals and it’s sweet
comments on everything
always dragged in jisung’s tiktok antics
knows all the tiktok dances by heart even though it looks like he’s so unbothered
thinks tiktok is cringey but HIGHKEY gets into it
jisung
now this dude is on tiktok but he doesn’t really fetch for clout
he likes doing short freestyles
the challenges are cool too and he’s had a few mutuals on tiktok so that’s nice
but this dude screams TWITTER and YOUTUBE
watches shit like vox and jubilee because it’s so interesting to him
has been through a vsauce phase but eventually got bored because they didn’t upload a lot
youtube is there for his deep dives and curiosities
also is subscribed to a lot of youtubers so his recommended page is super diverse
comments on videos with the most candid thoughts
youtube has been a big part of him honestly especially as a child who didn’t really get a formal education
he’s just kind of learning from the internet
doesn’t bother with instagram because... he can post pictures on twt too...
eventually gets instagram anyways so
the pictures/videos jisung sends on lysn bubble are literally his insta feed
but on twitter he’s just kind of vibin
says he goes on twt 5 times a day so there we go
likes those generational tweets and tiktoks that go like
“kids born after 2005 will never understand this”
his retweets bruv
he just retweets funny one liner replies from viral tweets
also keeps up with the news (ehem this was the boy on the political section of daily korean news let’s hear it)
rather than just korea he’s pretty interested in international news too so he’s a pretty outspoken guy
doesn’t really do a lot of tweeting himself though since he just kind of goes “헐” or “대박” or “ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ”
him and renjun are youtube buddies just because. yes.
usually spirals into crack compilations
like renjun, he’s also seen pretty often in other members’ mentions
ESPECIALLY CHENLE THIS DUDE WONT SHUT UP ABOUT JISUNG
but he honestly really likes being mentioned and being active online because he’s spent most of his life either practicing or online so
feels like home huh
kinda gen z spirit there lmao
#this was rushed#haechan gamer!#jaemin film student agenda uh#renjun is THE boy on instagram#jeno... nowhere to be found#mark gettin clout without trying#khchenle is everything#nct dream#mark#jeno#renjun#donghyuck#haechan#jaemin#chenle#jisung#nct#nct scenarios#nct dream imagines#nct dream headcanon#nct drabbles#nct blurb#nct headcanon#nct dream social media au#social media au#nct jeno#nct mark#nct chenle#nct jisung#nct jaemin
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Image Descriptions Make You a Better Writer
Writing is a form of art and imagination that can’t be expressed visually the way most other forms of art can, and yet words can fill your heads with images of places you’ve never seen or even considered before.
So reasonably, it’s probably good to practice describing things to people who can’t see the thing you’re describing. and the best way to do that is to learn to write image description.
What is an image description?
It’s a paragraph of text written to describe the image it’s attached to, and it’s written for those of the internet who can’t see the image because they’re blind or visually impaired. Blind/VI people often use screen readers which read all the text on screen for them, but screen readers can’t understand and describe images, so they rely on someone writing an image description down so that blind/VI internet users can understand the image they can’t see.
It’s a form of accessibility, similar to adding wheelchair ramps and elevators for people with mobility disabilities, or adding closed captions to videos for the Deaf/HOH.
Those accommodations make it possible for people with disabilities to share important parts of life with people who are abled. And image descriptions make it possible for Blind/VI people to enjoy the important parts of life able bodied people experience.
And learning to write image descriptions will improve your writing. Here’s why
If you’re someone who struggles to describe the scenery you’re seeing in your head, it might be helpful to have some scenery visually in front of you to describe.
It can be a nature photography image, architecture, people, background setting, anything. Having the image in front of you and allowing yourself the time to describe it effectively and concisely will improve how you describe these images in your writing.
It’s important to note that you should avoid purple prose while writing these, keeping it from being too abstract. There’s nothing wrong with purple prose and if you enjoy writing it than by all means run wild with it. But, it makes things harder to understand, so avoid it in image descriptions.
Writing image descriptions for memes is a different experience.
Memes are abstract images and it takes knowing the context to understand the joke. And memes are evolving every day. We have a dozen new memes every month and they have their own evolution.
So you’re describing an image to someone who’s never seen your meme, and you have to learn to explain the context in a way that makes sense. It’s not like describing a tree or a building, where the person listening to these image descriptions has some experience with the tree or building and can use some sensory memory to fill in the gaps.
Eventually you learn how to describe images in new ways, how to introduce new and abstract concepts to someone who hasn’t experienced that type of humor much.
And having some experience explaining new, abstract concepts might be helpful if you’re trying to explain some unique world building context, I’m just saying.
Writing image descriptions for screenshots or articles, tweets, and other social media will teach you how to explain all the necessary information and prioritize what your reader should know first about what there is to see. Which, again, when in writing you should learn who to prioritize which details come first and how to build on them. These are probably the easiest images to describe, so they’re a good place to start.
The real reason why you should write image descriptions?
It’s accessibility. You’re literally providing someone a chance to join in on the experience of this post by including the image description. People who rely on image descriptions are left out of the loop when entire conversations are based on just one image that they can’t see and have no context for.
If you’ve ever used Tumblr on mobile and you see post after post where images won’t load due to data limitations, then you have a small idea of what it’s like to be left out of the loop on these posts.
There’s a screenshot of an article headline? Great, but it looks like a grey box to you, so you don’t even know what the headline says, just that people are arguing about subject headlines, timing, politics, and semantics.
There’s a screenshot of a tweet, but it’s a grey box to you so you don’t even know that it’s a tweet. All you see are the lines of people adding things like “queen” and “slay” and “ooh, tea” but again, no context for why everyone likes this image. Or they’re roasting the person in the screenshot, but again, you don’t even know that it’s a person.
That is the best way I can explain the experience of being left out of a conversation to sighted people. You have everyone’s reactions, but not what the conversation is about. Sometimes you don’t even have a reaction, just a series of eight grey slides that have no context added.
How to write an image description:
Most image descriptions are put in (paranthesis) or [brackets] and usually begin something like this:
(Image Description: photo of a grey and white kitten on a tree branch, looking at the camera with blue eyes. The kitten looks calm and unworried. End Image Description)
[Image Description: Distracted boyfriend meme. Distracted boyfriend is me, checking out re-rewriting parts you’ve already finished (the other girl) instead of looking at parts that still need to be written (the upset girlfriend) End Image Description]
[I.D. Screenshot of an article headline from The New York Times that says, “Jeff Bezos set to make another 100 billion off Amazon slave labor.” Author, Guy Steves. Includes photo of bald Jeff Bezos in a three piece suit and a second photo of a 40 million dollar mansion. End I.D.]
Please note, the above New York Times article is fake, obviously, I just made that up off the top of my head.
I don’t have photos, but those image descriptions get the idea across without the photo, don’t they.
Final Note:
I understand if you don’t want to add image descriptions all the time. I feel that way too. There are a lot of things I think about reblogging and then don’t because the image description is too much for me, like very long twitter threads or comic strips for example.
Most of the time, if I have an image I want to reblog, I put it into my drafts folder and add an image description and some tags before I toss it out into the void of tumblr.
An option you have is to go through the notes and look to see if someone else has already added an image description and you’ll reblog from them.
One thing you should absolutely not do is find an image that already has an image description and find a way to reblog or repost without the image description. It’s fucked up and I don’t respect anyone who does that. I don’t know why that happens, but I’ve seen people do that and it upsets me.
Thank you to all the people who express support to this blog and to the image descriptions. I’ve had wonderful bloggers add my image descriptions to their original post, I’ve had them reblog the original post (because there was a response they didn’t want on their blog) and copy/paste my image description with credit given. You’re all wonderful and I appreciate you.
#writing community#writing advice#writing tips#accessibility#writeblr#image descriptions#my post#my advice
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We’re counting down the to the end of the Kickstarter campaign for Mr. Guy, Act 1 and the Origins Anthology! So we had our pal DeusNova42 talk to Mr. Guy’s creator, Jayel Draco, about both collections! They also chatted about why Oneshi Press values collaboration over competition, how we select submission for our anthologies, and what’s coming next for Mr. Guy!
What inspired you to publish comics anthologies that feature the work of other creators alongside your own?
Well, originally we were hoping to get our projects, like PACK and Tracy Queen, published by one of the larger traditional companies. After a lot of shopping them around and talking to people in the industry, we realized that coming in hot like that with projects that don’t fit the mainstream wasn’t really feasible. We also realized that there are a lot of fantastic creators out there whose work breaks the mold, but doesn’t fit the heavily gated shelves of the industry. Not being easily discouraged, we decided to build our own platform for our properties and share it with others who have stories that we believe need to be told and don’t fit with what’s being sold.
What is it about “collaboration over competition” that means so much to you, and why?
As far as the anthologies are concerned, the idea of working together with other creators to fill a worthy collection is a co-op model. As such, it requires a collaborative spirit. The thing is, we can tear each other down to beg for scraps from giant empires who are stuck in their ways from times of old…or we can join forces on these creative endeavors and together be big enough to pull our own weight and carve out a space for ourselves on those shelves. As far as the ideas of larger ongoing team projects like Children of Gaia, for example, I’ve always believed that together we can create far more than the sum of what we can create on our own.
Can you tell us more about Oneshi Press Comics Anthology (OPCA) #10—the Origins Anthology?
OPCA #10 is what we’re calling the Origins Anthology. The loose themes that we play with are often interpreted in pretty fun ways. For example, a story that tells about how something literally began could fit the theme just as well as a story that explores the cyclical [nature] of the greater universe. I don’t want to give too many spoilers about OPCA 10, but there are 13 shorts altogether, featuring a complement of over 2 dozen creators, which provide quite a good mix of takes on the concept of origins. Some are ongoing stories that have been in previous anthologies of ours already, and some are one-off shorts.
What are the most rewarding and the most challenging parts of working with other creators to bring these anthologies into the world?
The most rewarding part of working with so many different creators on these projects is knowing that we helped these creators all grow their audiences by sharing ours with them, as well as them all sharing each other’s audiences with one another and with us. The fact that our contributors keep the rights to their contributions and Oneshi Press foots the cost of printing, giving contributors a chance to buy printed copies wholesale and sell them full price, is a sort of vicarious wish fulfillment. When we started off, we wished someone could have done that for us, but no one did… “Be the change you wish to see in the world,” right?
The most challenging part is honestly administrative tasks, keeping track of what’s coming and going, getting creator bios from everyone for crediting everyone appropriately. Making sure that every page from over a dozen different stories all conform to the same standards for printing. Keeping track of sales versus cost of goods sold. This isn’t our forte, nor is it something we ever wanted to do. It’s just necessary for us to do this for now until we can get some magical unicorn to do it for us one day… Long story short, it’s just so much administrative work.
What do you look for in submissions to the anthologies?
What we look for in submissions to our comics anthologies, aside from the obvious skill in technique from the creator(s), [is] the heart of a contribution and [whether] it feels like it matches our tone. That said, we’re looking for progressive stories that tell things from a different angle than the common tropes. We love stories that aren’t just clever, but also try to give the audience a meaningful takeaway. Expanding one’s perspective is a path to inner peace and peace with others; art has that power. Sometimes that means exploring kindness and compassion; sometimes it means exploring pain and even the concept of wrath. It’s not always what you’re used to or what you like; we’re not providing lip service for the masses. We’re exploring ourselves together. We’re providing catharsis for the masses.
That said, we’re not into shock for the sake of it, we are not into punching down, and we will never accept bigotry of any kind. We’re sex-positive feminists who believe love is equal, black lives matter, trans rights are human rights, and being a jerk isn’t cool. If all that fits with you, you’re who we’re looking for—let’s share our stories together.
How can creators apply to be featured in your anthologies, and what is the selection process like?
Everything you need to know about submitting a contribution to our comics anthologies has been carefully curated and posted on our submission page here. Lynsey and I both receive mail from the contact page and are happy to answer any additional questions.
The selection process is done in three columns:
We consider the skill level in techniques employed both for writing and visuals, and for our preferences there, for column one.
The second column is the heart of the story, how important do we feel the story is, are we going to feel right knowing that we chose to include this story over that one? The heart of the story is broad and difficult to quantify in simple terms: Does it portray an underrepresented character? Does it convey a moral that fits with our values? Does it explore something that is often neglected in the mainstream?
The third column is the theme of our anthology. How well does the submission fit the overall collection? We do always try to round this out and not be too redundant. However, we also try to avoid being too far-reaching.
At the end, the projects that are highest in all three columns are prioritized over the projects that are lowest in all three columns. Sometimes we might have a project that’s high in the first two but really just doesn’t fit the theme we’re going for as well as some of the other submissions, in which case we may consider it for future anthologies.
You mentioned in your last interview that your latest venture, Mr. Guy, is an “art-thology.” Can you explain what that is and how it differs from an anthology?
Typically, a comics anthology is a collection of short comics from multiple series and often from various creators, which are generally bound together under the common theme. For example, our 10th Oneshi Press Comics Anthology is the Origins-themed anthology. Mr. Guy: Zombie Hunter, however, is one continuous narrative all written by myself, but each chapter (or arc) is illustrated by a different artist. So it’s really only an anthology where the art is concerned. Hence the word art-thology!
Did you always envision Mr. Guy as an art-thology? What influenced that decision?
If you’d have asked me 20 years ago, I’d have said that one day I’d illustrate the whole thing myself. I made some early attempts and, having no idea what I was doing, put them on ice. About 10 years ago, I was toying around with the idea of Kickstarting a pilot episode for a Mr. Guy cartoon. Chris Covelli, my long-time creative partner and co-founder on Children of Gaia, even did some CGI of Mr. Guy walking around and toon-shaded. At the time, though, even the workload for a pilot was a bit beyond our scope, and the more we looked into Kickstarter, the more we realized we didn’t quite have the internet reach we would need, nor the understanding of how to run an enticing campaign.
All these years later, as co-founder of Oneshi Press, I’ve helped put out 9 anthologies, and the 10th one is on its way. Mr. Guy was already written in 8-page arcs, each one with a different vibe. It just felt right to want to see each arc done by a different artist. Sort of like a DTIYS (draw this in your style), but for a whole chapter.
How did you approach creators about working on Mr. Guy, and will there be opportunities for other creators to participate in similar projects in the future?
So, the first artist for Mr. Guy, Act 1 is me! That was easy. I just turned to myself and said yes. The next 3—Walter Ostlie, Diana Camero, Jacey Chase—were already on our roster of people we’ve worked with in the past for the Oneshi Press Comics Anthologies. Depending on how well the campaign for Act 1 goes, we’ll decide when to start nailing down the details for who will be working on Act 2, and then eventually Act 3. We do have some artists tentatively penciled in for Acts 2 & 3, but those may change depending on availability as we get closer, and there are still a few open anyway. For most future projects where I need to hire artists in general, I’ll probably start with asking people who have already contributed to our anthologies before doing an open call.
Where can people find Oneshi Press anthologies and other publications?
Oh, I know this one! People can find Oneshi Press Comics Anthologies and our other works right at oneshipress.com.
Visit the Kickstarter campaign to support our creators and Jayel Draco with a pledge or a share!
Mr. Guy Creator Jayel Draco on Collaboration, Art-thologies, and Indie Comics We're counting down the to the end of the Kickstarter campaign for Mr. Guy, Act 1…
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Why Won’t You. Bakugou Katsuki
Request: “Omg will you do a ‘ghost’ part 3?!?! I’m sobbing” “I don’t know how but the second part to ghost hurt me more than the first and I don’t know if I want more because I don’t know if my heart can take it but now I’m invested in this” *insert other people telling me that they’re crying here*
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: Swearing
Notes: More tears? More tears. More tears is good.
*Read Part 1 HERE*
*Read Part 2 HERE*
It all started with an Instagram post. It wasn’t anything crazy, but it was enough to interest the media. It was a simple picture of two hands intertwined, sweetly captioned “Lucky <3,” posted by @redriot.
Initially, Bakugou paid no attention to the post. He had just double tapped and kept scrolling down his feed. So, Kirishima had gotten into a relationship. After his previous confrontation with his old friend, Bakugou really could not care less about his relationship status or who it was with. Or, that’s what he wanted to say.
He was nosy. He didn’t like to admit it, but he hated not knowing even more. His first attempt took him to the comment section. Top comments being from some of the other pros or fans who were speculating who the mystery date was.
@itsdeku commented: Super happy for you guys!
@heyo_ochako commented: I always knew this would happen! Best wishes :)
@pinkyyyy commented: Took you long enough, @redriot ;)
@redriot replied: Hey, it’s not my fault stuff got in the way! @pinkyyyy
@choose_super commented: Am I the only one who thinks that looks suspiciously like @Y/N???
@champi_anne replied: Yooo! I was thinking the same thing!
@raynestorm replied: But she’s dating @thereal_bk??
@ben_crowne replied: @raynestorm is right. @Y/N and @thereal_bk have been together for years.
Bakugou’s brows furrowed as he continued scrolling, seeing more and more people accuse you of being Red Riot’s new match. He scrolled back to the top, examining the picture for any signs that it might be you. At first glance, he didn’t see any giveaways. It just looked like a hand. Until he took a closer look. You had a small birthmark on the back of your right hand. He had always thought it was so cute, that sole little imperfection on your hand.
He nearly dropped his phone. There was no way. It had to have been someone else. Surely, someone else in the city had that same mark. You wouldn’t do something like that to him. You wouldn’t have moved on to someone else that fast. You had to been hurting just as much as him, right?
It seemed like Bakugou couldn’t even leave the house without seeing a screenshot of the image plastered on the front of a magazine or on the entertainment news. He would overhear groups of teenage fans talking about it. Hell, even his own mother had to call him about it when she heard. Was there really nothing else to fucking talk about? It’s not like he cared, anyway. You guys broke up. If you really were the one in the picture, so be it. You were allowed to move on from him.
But, Kirishima? Really? You could’ve done so much better. You were absolutely perfect in every sense of the word. You could’ve gotten any guy to fall head over heels for you, yet you chose Kirishima. Bakugou couldn’t help but scoff at that. You had standards. You weren’t going to stoop so low as to go out with that dumbass. Besides, the two of you had never been friends as far as Bakugou had known. The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself that you weren’t the one in the picture. It was just somebody who had a similar birthmark, because you would never agree to go on a date with Kirishima. Bakugou knew enough about you to be able to come to that conclusion.
That is, until he was making his rounds for the day. He had walked the road in front of your office building ever since the two of you started going out. He used to bring you coffee on the slow days, or he would wait for you by the front, so he could take you to lunch. By now, it was a force of habit for him. He couldn’t just change his course, besides there were still citizens and villains in this area of town. He was a hero. It was his duty to take care of any mischief that might happen. It was just a building anyway. It had no emotional value to him, not anymore at least.
But, he had a habit of lying to himself. He loved to say that he didn’t have a problem with it, but it hurt. It stung his chest knowing that you were sitting at your desk up on the sixth floor, packing up your things, getting ready to take your lunch break. Thinking of you still hurt. Thinking of what the two of you had still hurt. No matter how much time went by, he still had that pang of sorrow in his chest whenever he would see anything that would bring up an old memory of when you were both still ha-
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m waiting for someone,” Kirishima answers, not looking up from his phone.
“Why aren’t you working?”
“Some of us take days off, Bakugou. But, I guess, you don’t understand that concept.”
“Who are you waiting for?”
“Man, why does it matter?” Kirishima mutters, running his hand through his hair before casting a tired glance at his friend. “Why do you even care? What I do isn’t affecting your life.”
“I’m just cur-”
“Eijirou! Hey!” you shout, running towards the red head. Kirishima’s face lights up when he sees you approach.
“Hey, sweetheart! How was work?” He asks, planting a swift kiss on your lips.
“Oh my God! You remember how I was telling you about Kanna?”
“The one who totally broke the coffee maker and blamed it on you?”
“Yeah! I’m still mad about that. But, that’s beside the point. So, I asked Rei why she’s been being a total bitch to literally everyone.”
“Right. Rei always has the scoop.”
“My thoughts exactly. And he was all like, ‘I don’t know. I heard she’s been fucking the boss,’” you continue.
“Is she pregnant?!”
“She is totally pregnant!”
“What did I tell you? I knew she was acting weird at the dinner party last weekend!”
Bakugou watches in astonishment as the two of you shoot the conversation back and forth at a rapid pace, talking with an excitement that he hadn’t seen from you in a long time. Is this what he had been missing? You had never told him about office gossip. Well, you had, but that was a long time ago, and, frankly, he had told you that he didn’t care about a bunch of water-cooler gossip. It didn’t affect the two of you, so why did it matter? But, watching you buzzing with the anticipation to share the happenings of your office made something in his heart swell. You had the biggest smile on your face and you just radiated. It was unlike anything he had seen from you.
“Anyway, enough about my day. How was your morning?” You say, giving Kirishima a playful poke in the side, signalling him that it was his turn to talk.
“Pretty boring, honestly,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “You left for work and I took a nap. I only woke up about an hour ago.”
“I’ve told you that you don’t have to wake up with me. You can sleep in, Eiji. You need the rest.”
“I know, but I just want to tell you goodbye before you leave,” he says, smiling down at you.
He didn’t get it. How could you talk to a guy that you’ve barely been with like this? You hadn’t talked to him like that and the two of you had been together for years. Everything from your playful touches to your over-excited gestures, he just couldn’t understand it. What was so different about stupid Kirishima?
The realization hit him like a bus.
“You’re happy…” He says quietly.
“What?” Kirishima says, turning his attention back to Bakugou.
“Oh! Hey, Bakugou. Sorry, I didn’t notice you were there,” you say, not looking directly at him.
“He makes you happy…”
“Yeah. He does,” you confirm, taking a step towards Kirishima, allowing your new beau to put his arm around your shoulders.
“Happier than I did.”
You don’t say anything. You looked at him with eyes full of remorse, guilty of the answer you wanted to say. Yes. Kirishima had been by your side since things started going to shit in your relationship with Bakugou. He was always the one to listen when you needed to talk. You had spent evenings on the phone with him, letting him offer any advice he could or just discussing the latest episode of your reality TV shows. Kirishima had slowly turned into your best friend, your rock, and now he was even more. He opened his home to you when you left Bakugou. He had let you cry into his chest, reassuring you that none of what happened had been your fault. When you inevitably cried yourself to sleep, he had tucked you securely under the covers of his own bed before going to sleep on the couch. You had woke up in the morning to the smell of French toast and him telling you that he called in sick. “I don’t want to leave you. Not when you’re upset.”
“I’m sorry. Really. I should’ve made you happy,” Bakugou admits.
“At one point, I was happy with you. But, you changed and there just wasn’t an us anymore, you know?”
“We shouldn’t have ended like that. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“It may have never been your intention to hurt me, but that doesn’t change the fact that you did and no amount of apologizing is going to change that,” you say, your voice steady.
His fists clenched, but then he released when he noticed Kirishima move in front of you. “I don’t get it. I hurt you! Why are you not pissed?! You have yet to yell at me about any of this! Why?! How are you so calm about throwing away everything we had? Did our relationship mean nothing to you?! Did I waste the past however many years of my life putting up with your shit for you to stand there and break up with me and not even be mad?!” Bakugou snapped at you.
“Hey, man, chill out. Don’t yell at her like that. Just because she’s not mad at you doesn’t mean you can stand here and yell at my girlfriend,” Kirishima interjects.
“Oh, shut up! This doesn’t concern you,” he snarls at Kirishima before turning his attention back to you. “What about us? I would’ve done anything for you and you know that. Yet, you act like I never meant anything to you! I just want you to yell at me, dammit! Be mad at me for ruining our relationship! Scream at me for breaking your heart! Stand there and cuss me out for never making you happy!”
But you just stand there with that same sad look on your face as you watch him break in front of your eyes.
“Say something!”
You start to pull Kirishima away, wanting to be able to get lunch before you have to go back to work. “Our relationship was failing. And you know what? I stopped caring. I stopped trying to fix it. You weren’t trying, so why should I? So, you want to know why I never yelled, never got angry at you? It’s because I couldn’t bring myself to care enough to be angry.”
#mha#my hero academia#my hero academia imagines#bnha#boku no hero#boku no hero academia#boku no hero imagines#boku no hero academia imagines#bakugou#katsuki#bakugou katsuki#angst#part 3#ghost#kirishima#kirishima eijirou#eijirou#imagine#x reader
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Dani taz, Carmen Sandiego, and Mary Sage
I apologize in advance for how long this post is going to be ;;-;;
Dani
favorite thing about them
I think she’s fun! Who wouldn’t love an artist who’s also into plants, a wlw, living a hotel and also a cryptid vampire creature?
least favorite thing about them
Honestly, she got so little development, I wish we got to see so much more of that. Like how long has she been at Amnesty Lodge?? Why did she get exiled from Sylvain?? What’s her favourite food?? there are so many unanswered questions
favorite line
“Aubrey you feel like home” makes me SO SOFT!
brOTP
Jake Coolice bayybeeee!!! Also Barclay for some weird kitchen antics. Also Thacker! Also Mama!!! So many friends. I might have the incorrect interpretation of that Brotp is or I just might want Dani to be very loved
OTP
Aubrey of course
nOTP
Literally anyone else
random headcanon
I think I say this literally any chance I can get but her nickname is Dandelion and only people she’s very close to can call her that!
unpopular opinion
uhhh.. here’s one that only might get me a callout post. At the moment, looking at canon content exclusively, Dani’s only real purpose seemed to be a prize for Aubrey. I really wish Griffin had some really rad lore to give her and I extra wish we would’ve gotten it
song i associate with them
Dog Days are Over by Florence + The Machine. Also, unfortunately, Riptide by Vance Joy for whatever reason. No thoughts, head song the ukulele's equivalent to Wonderwall I guess
favorite picture of them
Okay I have one piece from @/kyllu as my desktop background and it’s a drawing of Aubrey and Dani having a sleepover and Aubrey has illuminated the room with a fireball. It’s so pretty and I have such vivid memories of the first time seeing it because I was in an airport waiting for my flight home and I genuinely started crying looking at it. Also from the Davenport blog 2020 April Fool’s goof, Dani sitting on top of the roof with the caption “Tonight’s Dani misses home” is also VERY up there.
Carmen
favorite thing about them
I love older Carmens too but there is really something fun about the 2019 version actively rebelling against the way she was raised and who raised her just so she can fight for what’s right. And she’s very strong and was able to make that decision and escape all on her own! Having three “teams” in the show rather than just the two “good guys” vs “bad guys” is something I enjoy
least favorite thing about them
hmmm I genuinely cannot think of anything. I am very neutral about my opinions of Carmen specifically
favorite line
”Player, I made it. I’m off the island. I need to know where on earth I am”
brOTP
I *LOVE* the way her and Player’s friendship is portrayed and I can not get enough of it. They’ve been friends for over 4 years!! They call each other “Player” and “red” because that’s what they're comfortable with, no need to change it. They have a bit of an age gap but they’re still really close and they support each other so much. Geography special interest buddies. Amazing friends, respect each other’s boundaries.
OTP
As much as I enjoy Carmivy I am actively opinionless
nOTP
(ignoring a lot of BAD takes I see on instagram) If I see the words re//d//c.rackle one more time I am quitting
random headcanon
I don’t remember how or why but one time my mom brought up the idea that Carmen has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and I probably think about it every day of my life now. It’s not based on much because my mom hasn’t watched the show but -shrug- Oh also Carmen’s hot drink of choice is hot cocoa
unpopular opinion
Player and Carmen have absolutely no reason to meet up in person, do not force them to and overstep pre-established boundaries. Also, the headcanon that she and Player are siblings simply because they are both brown people who have a close bond fucking sucks.
song i associate with them
I am bad at music
favorite picture of them
I’m pretty sure this doesn’t actually count but there’s this one shirt we made in a TKO game that is an image of Carmen and the caption is “carsvenm sidjsnem” and I cry laughing looking at it to this day and my biggest regret in life is not being able to buy it because the shop page got corrupted before we could save the link
Mary Sage
favorite thing about them
Clint just really WENT FOR IT while making Mary. The concept of her parents owning a Bible Amusement Park, the fact she’s HIDING in said park, the anger, the betrayal, being abused and used as a living weapon by the dgf, she has the highest swear ratio in all of Commitment, the fact she is I think only once depicted standing on level ground with the PCs (almost every mention of her location is her being on top of a platform of some kind because she likes to be tall and dramatic) it’s *chef’s kiss* Let her learn how to trust people again.
least favorite thing about them
WE DID NOT GET HER FOR LONG ENOUGH CLINTON. Also knowing deep down that if Commitment season 2 ever does happen the first thing that will happen is leaving Mary in the middle of nowhere never to be seen again :(
favorite line
“nn-where d’ya want to go?” sticks out a lot
“Everybody wants to hurt Space Cadet!”
“And Mary begins to scream”
“You… Shithead! You were gonna make me kill thousands of people!“
brOTP
Remy! Remy! Remy! You don’t just unload your dramatic backstory on a person you met 5 minutes ago like that and just.... abandon them. They’d be pure chaos together, unstoppable.
OTP
Nadiya uwu
nOTP
Anyone else
random headcanon
Mary finds a lot of comfort in hiding in small spaces. I was going to credit this to being caused by Halleluland but that makes zero sense if anything Halleluland would be a wide-open space. But small spaces are easy to keep track of, hide away from prying eyes and control everything that’s going on with-in them. Absolutely would steal all the available pillows just so she could sit comfy in a closet or something
also she’s bilingual in French because rich kid in Lousiana
unpopular opinion
uhhhhhhhh no idea. I don’t think a lot of people really gave Mary a chance
song i associate with them
Dirty Imbicile by The Happy Fits
favorite picture of them
The one everyone (read: 3 people) in a discord server used as their icon for a couple months because we all thought it was funny (and it was). It was cropped from a comic panel of Mary seeing Kardala for the first time which was drawn by @/ 1010lilfoot
no checking for typos we die like men
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Episode Commentary for Wordgirl “Showdown at the Secret Spaceship Hideout”
As requested by an anon, I’m going to do an Episode Commentary (that’s what I’m gonna call them, they need a name so I know what to title the post and have people know what the heck it is) of the WordGirl episode “Showdown at the Secret Spaceship Hideout”
I’m going to apologize in advance for the number of times I say “also” “can we just take a moment to appreciate” “I love that...” and “Me”
Look at Two Brains Drawings! <3
Me as a villain
This is something I love about this show; they have realistic conversations. This is absolutely a slip-up someone would make if they were having an off day. I make stupid mistakes like this all day every day XD This honestly isn’t my favorite example of this, but it’s a good one none-the-less.
Let’s just take a moment to appreciate this very important image of Huggy doing what he does best and rarely gets to do anymore since coming to Earth.
Hey! Wait a minute!
Well Dr. Two Brains, clearly it works on doubled brained citizens too!
Huggy approves of this crash-land
I have nothing to say about this, it’s just a good bit of dialogue and it must have its moment to shine.
…I have got to start setting reminders for myself like this. Also, I love that she looks at her boots and nods like “yes, yes they are” as if she wasn’t the person who said that in the first place.
And thus, begins an entire episode of Huggy being annoyed and disapproving.
Okay, I’m pretty sure the line was “Change it back” but thanks for trying, I guess.
Anyway, I lowkey love this brief tantrum she throws. It reminds us she’s still a kid. She’s a kid taking on adult responsibilities, and moments like this remind us that she’s not perfect, sometimes she just wants to do something for herself and she will still get upset when things go wrong.
I took this screenshot for no other reason than to prove that the line was “Change it back!”
Nothing gets past these two
Do I detect saltiness in that cheese? That was me trying to be clever. (OMG I have Word set to read stuff out loud so I can catch mistakes easier, and idk why but when it said this sentence I LOST IT)
Also “often uninvited”—implying that there were a few instances where he did invite her.
LOLLYGAGGERS!!
It’s funny because it’s not the weirdest threat I’ve heard on this show.
You don’t know Wordgirl...at all...
Huggy’s annoyed, but at least he has snacks.
Me doing my homework
We all know Pretty Princess is supposed to represent WordGirl in this episode but let’s acknowledge that the horse is clearly supposed to be Huggy—disapproving of the plan, giving her annoyed looks the entire time, but ultimately doing nothing to stop her from procrastinating.
lol poor Huggy
Amazing, done-before-but-I’ll-never-get-tired-of-hearing-it joke aside, I”m convinced that Huggy already knew what procrastinate means, he just wanted her to define it so she’d realize she’s doing it.
Plan failed.
When I said Pretty Princess was me doing my homework, I meant it.
WordGirl was me watching the Gravity Falls finale.
Huggy was my brother watching me watch the Gravity Falls finale.
TBH I just wanted a good shot of this room, but can we appreciate the light coming from the window? Like I feel that there’s no reason to put that much detail into the lighting and they did it anyway. Also, I want to see this window on the outside of the ship.
HE LOOKS AT THE AUDIENCE
I CANT XD
What’s the butterfly room like? Why is there a butterfly room? Why have we never seen this butterfly room because I really want to see the butterfly room!
Me when someone in my family brings home Oreos
Who wants to play spot the episodic easter egg!
This is it. this is my favorite Two Brains line.
Huggy’s been annoyed with her the entire episode because he knew this very thing could happen. He could say “I told you!” he could leap into action, but instead he’s like “I’ve got one last pretzel, just let me finish it…”
Sorry, I didn’t mean to have all this hoo-ha in the screenshot. I thought about retaking it…but you can see the things I want to point out alright so maybe later. I lowkey want to do a separate post on this.
Anyway, this is clearly Huggy’s stuff, and the two things I want to point out are the framed picture of Huggy and an unknown superhero on the left, and various pictures and documents on a bulletin board to the right. I wish we had clearer pictures, I’d love to examine them more, but the framed one does certainly imply that Huggy has worked with or at least met other superheroes aside from WordGirl. I’d also really love to know what those documents are.
Villains traipsing through his ship warrants almost no reaction, but you touch his stuff and suddenly you’re messing with the devil!
I love that he’s still willing to take over her hideout just because the henchmen love it, despite the fact that they “haven’t been too helpful”
I’ve got a couple of things to say here:
1. In the second picture: Strike a pose Two Brains!
2. I gotta rant because this is honestly scary to me. He doesn’t remember writing a book. It takes him a second to realize he wrote it, and it probably was seeing his old name that triggered it. He doesn’t recognize the title. Who forgets they wrote a book?? Writing a book is a lloooooooonng process that takes months to years, it takes up a good chunk of your life, there’s no way you’d just forget it. The mouse brain has more control than we’ve realized, it's controlling his memories. That’s literally the only explanation for just blanking out on writing an entire damn book. It took me months to write a children’s book and he basically wrote an entire textbook! That’s not something you’re gonna bust out in a weekend and forget about!
Another rant! She got most of her superhero knowledge from Steven’s book. Not from Huggy like I’d always assumed. I still stand by the idea that Huggy gave her a solid foundation of training to start with, and she learned more on her own through books like these and personal wisdom and experience. But she got most of her knowledge and tactics not from her own superhero based culture, but from a book by a guy who never was (that we know of) and isn’t a superhero himself. She got more wisdom from some guy observing superheroes than her own heritage. This pretty much confirms that Steven was extremely popular in the superhero community, for him to be able to observe and probably interview for reference that many heroes to get that much knowledge.
They made a movie on his book! I wanna see this movie! It’d be like the Krusty Krab training video episode of Spongebob!
And apparently, it was better than the book..
If you listen closely, you can hear the screaming of every Steven Boxleitner fan
Okay sound started to get a little off from the captions at the end here but bear with me.
First of all, have some fabulous concentrating-Dr.-Two-Brains images! Secondly, he’s in WordGirl’s hideout, he should be on high alert, and hearing WordGirl scream “NOW HUGGY!” causes no reaction. He doesn’t even flinch.
It took several tries to get this image, but it was totally worth it!!!
Huggy is validated by The Narrator. I love when The Narrator steps in XD
And Two Brains just glaring at everyone XD
Yet again, Huggy doesn’t approve, yet doesn’t do anything about it and participates in the activity.
And boy oh boy would I love to see our disembodied narrator try to play Ping-Pong!
That’s all for this episode! The next one I’m doing is Robot Monkey Showdown! I have no idea when that will be up…but I’m hoping very soon, but I gotta crop all the pictures, (or maybe I won’t? would that be a crime? It would significantly cut down on time...) then type out my comments, then put it all into tumblr.
#wordgirl#dr. two brains#captain huggyface#captain huggy face#showdown at the secret spaceship hideout#episode commentary
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Reminder that I’m totally down to give specific warnings or descriptions or help people navigate through the video if anyone needs.
Warnings (aside from the obvious): Long post, lots of caps lock, long rambling with a large degree of incoherence. I titled this “me screaming at the new video” in docs. I was real accurate. It took me over 2 hours to watch this thing because I kept pausing to not shut up. This is 5 pages in docs.
Okay, JUST looking at the cover, I- are those tentacles? IS this a new side? Octoside? I can already hear all the names were going to give him. Oliver, Octavio, October wait no that’s already a Sanders shorts. Okay, intrusive thoughts, that's… Roman’s already a supplier of those. Fandom agrees, “Don’t think about your naked Aunt Patty.” So, maybe Depression? Anger? Or, is it Roman still, after all? Because I see the word Creativity there. Or tentaclereativity. So it’s still Roman, but I’m convinced that his opposite is Virgil, although I’m also sure that they implied Pride in the Halloween episode. Something about “proud of it” and then they said “let’s table that discussion for another time.”
Ugh, Roman’s been doing so wonderful on his own. He’s just been owning up to insecurities, and it’s been great. This is going to be highly related to him. Although, Patton looks like the one trying to block him out? Roman’s concerned, Logan’s miffed, Virgil is angry, and oh my god is that a MOUSTACHE OKAY I’M WATCHING.
Content warning, oh my gosh, they were not kidding. Does that seriously say death and blood and gore? I’m just getting more hype. I mean, intrusive thoughts, I’m sure nothing will permanently, physically happen to them. (Goodbye Fresh.)
Dark circles under Thomas’s eyes, implication of sleep deprivation, or something with Virgil?
“The human connection will make me feel more like a person,” I came here to have a good time and honestly I’m feeling so attacked right now. Credits! Great job everyone! I know everyone worked real hard on this.
Okay, Thomas in his robe, very reminiscent of Excepting Anxiety. Blasé attitude, too. Hmm, trouble sleeping (tires), overstating ‘everything going wrong,’ definitely seems like Virgil’s territory.
Woah there he is. He’s, he’s really angry? And Patton’s voice is strained. What is happening, does Patton know……whatever, or WHOever? Yeah, he’s shifty eyed. He knows. Virgil definitely knows, and it’s not him. Oh man oh man. Oh, confirmed, they’re in on trying to avoid the conversation. GREAT TEAM WORK, PAT! Doing great, buddy.
Roman’s rhymes are amazing. Definitely misery, though. Alright, so Thomas is having thoughts that make Virgil act up, and either he’s telling Patton, or Patton knows because of emotions.
Roman’s so much better at summoning than Logan. And Logan knows?! Ooh, sore spot for them here. Patton oh noooo. That’s easy for you to say?
I love the idea that, 1, Logan Falsehood’d as a reaction and an example on purpose, and 2, that he’s got a limit of one per day.
ALRIGHT! I’ve got it. They don’t want Roman to know because he’s going to, intentionally or not, expand on whatever the thoughts are. He’s Creativity and dreams, it’s what he does and he’s not going to be able to help it, intrusive thoughts, this IS Roman-centric! Poor boy. (Kraken, sushi. Those tentacles mean something. Also the tentacle represents the C, I understand the title image now.) Yeah, they don’t want him inadvertently going into daydream mode.
I have never seen this movie. These are freaking top-notch jokes, though. WOAH, THOMAS. Not good. Really not good. I’m still hype. Oh, is that the sort of death mention that
Television: [has hands]
Me: [strangled squeaking noise]
Okay, I’m having, okay. Okay. Okay. I’m fine. I just. I need. Okay. I’m fine. Need a moment. Freaking out, in, a good way? I just. Really unexpected, even though I saw the hands. Oh my gosh. Can the others see him????? Because they’re looking at Roman they should see him. I didn’t know I could make that noise, but apparently I can. And I can hold it. And make it slowly go higher pitched. Okay. Okay. I’m fine now. Maybe. Okay. Hypening.
OH THEY CAN okay, oh dissonant voice. What sort of overdramatic staff is this dork NO ROMAN.
THE DUKE?! WHAT!!! Getting heavy Warfstache vibes, btw, and why does he have a grey streak? Virgil and Logan are unconcerned about Roman, so I guess he’s fine.
Is this a song? What is his outfit, omg. His mustache is fabulous. His eyes are kinda ringed. in purple?
What is happening, oh my god. Oh here’s the religious commentary, I guess. This is fine, I’m okay with this. But he’s playing Adam AND Eve himself. Dramatic dork confirmed. Oooh, you lack imagination. He IS Roman’s opposite, dang. I was so sure it was Virgil. Also YES green’s my favorite color!
Hahaaaa! Tiny little aunt Patty naked post-it! Patton’s so distressed, Virgil ANGERY. A to Z is incredible. I missed some lyrics there; I’ll catch it when I watch it with captions the next five times. I mean, uh, no, I’d never… ten times. Nice blood spatter! What is he doing to them! What’s with the size thing? Is that a thing he can do? Or creative (heh) liberty due to song?
SNAKE how’d I not guess that from Adam and Chava SNAKE IT’S SNAKE!
I don’t get the hand image. What is that? So far kind of the same sort of vibe from Deceit and Duke- oooh, both Ds. The whole, own up to who you are, stop lying to yourself.
“You’ve got a fiend in me!” “Squeak!”
Oh, oh no, he’s really not quite like Deceit. He’s saying that these things make Thomas evil. Definitely not a Deceit thing to do.
EDITING PRAISE! YOU GUYS. You guys are incredible, you did such a good job.
“I’m your Creativity!” Officially calling those things fart trumpets.
Oh, is he actually Creativity? Okay I’ll roll with it. Oh my gosh it’s only ten minutes into it and I can’t shut up. Virgil is so uncomfortable.
Never bring [Jeffery Dahmer] up again got a GREAT face from Duke. Oh man. Is that true about him trying to repress those thoughts?
WHITE BEAR that episode of Black Mirror might make more sense now.
Impressive hair blowing from Virgil, that’s the hair blowing equivalent of what Dr. Horrible did with his fingers in Brand New Day.
Patton called Roman handsome, and I knew that second most handsome prince bit in the last episode was something he’d say, not just him trying to be all lawyer-y! (Ooh, foreboding music…)
Honestly, Logan was, if anything, even more chill about lying in CLBG, and Deceit in general (his scales are quite smooth). By comparison, he’s going off on the Duke. OOH, I KNEW THAT ABOUT THE WORD DORK!
Ohhh my gosh the costumes are opposites! I, almost realized that, about color theory, and then forgot about the sash. And those shoulder pads are massive, Duke! Did you steal Roman’s puppet chin to make those?
Joan! Haha, I love it, definitely something they would do. Interesting, you can hear an overlay of Joan’s voice, and Duke’s voice. Why can’t the Duke do it as well as anyone else? What did Virgil realize during the twin explanation? Hey, Cayin and Hevel, more Genesis.
Did he mention friends and family? Oh my gosh, self-immolation is terrible, I looked it up. Like, uh, suicide for a public purpose, or to make a point?
Laugh! Dork laugh! There’s the implication of them knowing each other.
Oh, okay, okay. So, Virgil’s anxious, because in and of itself, whatever it was that he was thinking/obsessing over was bad. His anxiety is, well, cognitive distortions. That’s why everyone’s all bothered. Yeah, point to Logan on that oh my god, what is that camera angle, I love it.
Duke is JP confirmed. Ripped off nipples. JP from Wade’s (lordminion777) circle of friends, salty boys. That’s still their official name, right? Anyway, he’s JP.
Oh, I saw dripping off of that hand. That sequence is getting longer every time.
Who are those, I don’t recognize them? “I’m about to smash the Hulk” you guys I think I love the Duke a little bit a lot.
Patton, no, that’s- Patton! “That’s what repression is?” Ooh, tense Virgil moment with Logan. Yet, also touching?
“Well THAT can’t be where the bar is.” !!!
Weird Duke blink during religion talk. It’s so funny looking at this though a Jewish perspective. It’s similar, but just a little off. And we don’t do the 7 deadly sins thing.
Figuratively!
Wait it’s coming from Virgil?! Uh, uh, anxious about being a bad person, subconsciously projecting it onto Thomas?
Patton too?! Oh, wait, yeah, this comes back to repression that makes sense. Oh my gosh, Logan. ! Can the Duke do the Deceit silence thing oh no, no he can’t. Close. Teeth are an improvement I think.
Hey isn’t there an incorrect quote about Virgil drinking shampoo?
Remus?! Oh my gosh are you KIDDING me? A new side, PLUS his name? Oh, oh that’s so clever, Roman. Rome was founded by Romulus and Remus. So clever! And definitely butt trumpets, from earlier, because AVPM’s Lupin had butt trumpets.
Oh, direct shot and reaction at Virgil not hiding anything. And okay, I’ve changed my mind like 10 times, but I think I get it now. Haha, Logan! It was like a pop quiz! And Thomas cursed!
The scream darkened the room, that was awesome. But nobody cared. Ah, secretly a Patton and Virgil arc!
Oh my god, Patton had a look of realization when Virgil was listing off things, is he going to tell him to not skip the callback?!
[Sad poopy noises.] Logan’s on fire today! Yes!
Oh, he’s gone? Ha, nope! Oh it got worse, haha!
Patton, control, it’s happening! Oh, wait no.
Virgil really used to fear him? And, oh, what were those exchanged looks during “just like old times”? Logan and Patton, and maybe Roman figured it out? Does Virgil know that?
Roman!
Nerdy Wolverine. Ahh, cool! Dukey problem! Oooh return of “I don’t like him.”
What, brother?! So that’s an actual thing now? But okay, alright, I guess Logan’s thing from before. NOPE EVERYTHING’S FINE NEVER COMING BACK. Romaaaaan.
Dark sides? “Others.” Oh, Thomas for sure doesn’t know. Oh dear. OH MUSIC it’s swelling oh my gosh, he’s going to tell, he’s going to tell. Gasp! He told, and oh, so sad, and oh no he’s just sinking out?! My poor baby little precious oh I immediately see why Patton had a problem with coddling him.
Oh, oh Thomas is so confuddled. There’s going to be so many angst fics. I will read them all.
Alright, actually a hilarious ad. Way to incorporate intrusive thoughts into it! END CARD holy- REMUS! Oh the deodorant. And again. Nice knife, he’s going to- yep, deodorant. Oh he’s done, but he’ll have another- yep. What the heck is it, actually?
THERE’S A SNAKE IN MY BUTT! PFF that’s going to be some fics also. Officially: I love Remus.
Final thoughts; I’m in love, I was so wrong about “they wouldn’t throw a new side or plot relevance at us with all these warnings,” everyone freaking outdid themselves, this must have happened so soon after Selfishness vs. Selflessness, I love him, I really dug a lot of that humor, my taste in music is way worse than anything Remus threw at us (ask me about that), WHAT WERE THE THOUGHTS with the dripping hand bit, S v. S part 2 is definitely the next one, and I freaking love this video.
#ts spoilers#virgils sanders#thomas sanders#roman sanders#logan sanders#patton sanders#the dark side of creativity#remus sanders#B/k's babbling#long post#sanders sides#new video reaction
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Star Trek Episode 1.4: The Naked Time
AKA: Everyone Has A Real Bad Day Except For Sulu
CONTENT WARNING: This episode contains an onscreen suicide in which a man stabs himself in the stomach and dies later in surgery. No blood or gore or details of the surgery are seen. This recap covers the first scene but does not contain any images of it. There is one screencap of the surgery scene, which does not show the body, and is only there to point out a particularly ridiculous prop.
Here's a story about The Naked Time for you: one year when I was in college I had a Star Trek wall calendar. Each month had a picture from an episode on the top half, with the name of the episode underneath it, and then some trivia about it on the bottom half. The picture for February was shirtless Sulu posing on the bridge, naturally captioned The Naked Time. So one day a friend of mine who didn't watch Star Trek was over hanging out when she saw my calendar, and I wound up having to explain to her that yes, that was an actual Star Trek episode, no it was not a porn parody of Star Trek, yes it was really called The Naked Time, no, no one actually got naked in it. Which was quite the conversation. You try explaining shirtless Sulu with that caption completely out of context.
February was a good month that year.
Our episode begins with the Enterprise orbiting a planet called Psi 2000, because 2000 is the coolest number (except for 3000). Psi 2000 is an old planet, now little more than an arctic wasteland, which is near the end of its life. So near, in fact, that it's about to fall apart completely, and the Enterprise is there to watch (for science). Before they do that, though, they've got to pick up a research team that's been stationed down on the planet surface.
But all is not well, for we soon see that the inside of the research lab is just as much of an arctic wasteland as the outside, complete with a dead person sprawled over a console. Spock and some dude beam down wearing snazzy orange bubble wrap suits and Spock examines the stiff with his Pringles can gun.
[ID: Spock and another man wearing textured orange hazmat suits, faces only barely visible, standing in a room covered with dubiously realistic snow and ice. A body is slumped over the table in front of them, also covered in snow. Spock is pointing a cylindrical device at it.]
The two of them split up, the dude to check out the life support systems and Spock to examine the horrible scene of a shop window mannequin half-buried in snow. His Pringles can tells him that she's been strangled. The dude comes back and reports that all life support systems are off and there are four more dead people, including the engineer frozen apathetically at his post and another man taking a shower fully-clothed. Well, maybe his clothes were dirty too.
As Spock goes to check out this spectacle for himself, the dude wanders back into the main room and gets out a device of some sort that makes whirring sounds. But then his face itches, so, like the competent Starfleet officer he is, he carries on and ignores this. Ha ha, no, I'm just kidding. He takes his glove off, puts it on the dead guy's head, then sticks his bare hand up his helmet to scratch himself. As if that wasn't bad enough, he then leaves the glove off while he messes around on the floor. When he puts his hand on the side of the desk, we see an ominous red spot in the ice. To give the guy the very little credit he deserves, he doesn't put his hand directly on the red spot, but this doesn't matter much because some of the liquid crawls upward and splatters onto his hand anyway. And he obviously notices this, because he shakes his hand, sticks it back into his helmet to sniff it, then puts his glove back on like nothing happened.
Immediately afterward, Spock comes back and tells him to be certain they expose themselves to nothing. Well, have I got some bad news for you.
Spock calls up to the Enterprise to tell them what's going on, and when Kirk asks what caused all this, Spock says it's like nothing they've dealt with before. The drama of this is a bit undermined by two things: one, everything they deal with is like nothing they've dealt with before, and two, Spock says this in a complete and utter deadpan, even by Spock standards.
After the titles, Kirk recaps what just happened, and says that despite it all they're still going to hang out and watch the planet implode because hey, why waste a trip. Spock and the dude—whose name is now revealed as Tormolen—beam aboard and Scotty decontaminates them by making the transporter lights flash on and off for a few seconds. Then they go over to Sickbay to get checked out just to be double sure. This consists of a brief examination which I don't think is going to be much good for revealing any contaminants they might have picked up, but at least we get to see the cool Sickbay examining tables that flip up and down.
Here's an interesting point: in this scene both Spock and Tormolen are wearing black t-shirts instead of their usual colored tunics. We saw this earlier with McCoy wearing the same kind of shirt when he was chilling back in The Man Trap, and he also seems to be wearing one under his short-sleeved blue shirt, which suggests that it's a standard uniform undershirt (especially since Spock and Tormolen put their blue shirts back on over them after they get done with the examination). So...where the hell is Kirk's? Because we're going to see Kirk with his shirt ripped or off many, many, many....many, many times throughout this series, and he's never wearing anything under it. So what gives? Are these not part of the uniform and these three random people just enjoy wearing them? Are they part of the uniform for everyone but goldshirts? Is Kirk exercising some kind of captain's privilege to not have to wear an undershirt? I don't know, man. Star Trek uniforms have never made any sense to me. Also, I’m sorry I introduced that as interesting. I don’t know why I did that.
Anyway, Spock and McCoy snark at each other a bit, but on a less cheerful note we see that Tormolen is rubbing his forearm anxiously. Which presumably means more in this context than it does when I do that about thirty times a day. Kirk comes in to see what's up, and Tormolen mournfully describes how terrible the scene was. That leads to this bit of dialogue from him and Kirk: “I keep wondering--” “You keep wondering if man was meant to be out here. You keep wondering, you keep signing on.” So either Kirk is a mind reader, or this sentiment is old ground for Tormolen.
Spock says he has no idea what happened down there, but maybe they could find something on the record tapes. Kirk tells Tormolen to go get some rest since he keeps going on about how many dead people there were down there, and he and Spock go off to check those tapes. We see Chapel (yay!) and Tormolen looking at his hand while a sinister rattling sound plays (not yay).
In the briefing room, everyone's looking over the tapes. Spock identifies one as a spectro-analysis tape, but it turns out to just be a slow pan of the room where they beamed down. I would say that's not what spectro-analysis is, but spectro-analysis (as opposed to spectral analysis) isn't a thing, so I guess you can have it mean whatever you want. Kirk muses over how bizarre and macabre this situation is, with everyone just frozen and uncaring, and asks for theories. McCoy says it couldn't be drugs or intoxication since the bio-analysis tapes, which were apparently more useful than the spectro-analysis tapes, rule that out. Spock suggests it may be some new form of space madness, which is like regular madness but in space, but he doesn't know what could have caused it since they didn't pick up anything unusual on their sensors. Scotty points out that that just means they didn't pick up anything unusual that they were designed to pick up, so this could still be something entirely new.
Kirk's main concern is this: they have to get the best readings they can of Psi 2000's breakup, and to do that means maintaining a really precise orbit, so they need absolute efficiency and no one getting space madness and randomly dying. He asks if there's any chance that what happened to the science team could affect the crew of the Enterprise. There's a conspicuous lack of any answer to this, which annoys Kirk, but hey, if they don't know what happened, how can they know what effects it's going to have? Anyway, the bridge calls in to report that the expected erratic changes are beginning to happen to the planet, and the meeting ends on that note.
In the rec room, or whatever, some people are playing space checkers (like regular checkers, but in space) and Tormolen is getting some food. He's still staring at his hand and rubbing it against his shirt like there's something on there he can't scrub off. Which I guess there is.
Sulu and friend come in to get some coffee, chatting about Sulu's latest passion: fencing. His friend complains that Sulu has a habit of picking up intense interests every week or so, which I guess is kind of thrown in there as a justification for why Sulu was in the botany lab a couple weeks ago but never shows up there again. The two of them sit down next to Tormolen and Sulu, noticing his buddy's new compulsion, asks if everything is alright, causing Tormolen to snap at him violently.
The two goldshirts get called to the bridge, but Sulu makes one last effort to check on Tormolen before they go. This really sets Tormolen off, making him jump up, knock his chair over, and go on an impassioned rant about how mankind doesn't belong in space. When his friends try to calm him down, he grabs the knife from his plate and points it first at them, then at himself. They get into a tussle, trying to take the knife from Tormolen, while everyone else in the room watches dispassionately. Thanks, guys.
Sulu and his pal aren't successful getting the knife away and all three of them take a tumble to the floor, and as they get up it's revealed that Tormolen stabbed himself in the stomach. I'm...not sure how he managed to do that with a butter knife. Sulu's friend runs over to the intercom and yells that they need medics. Then we hear another sinister rattle and he starts rubbing at his hands like Tormolen did.
After the break, Kirk gives a log saying that unbeknownst to them, a new disease has been brought on board. But this one's not in the past tense, so it just kind of makes it sound like Kirk has precognition. On the bridge, Sulu and his friend—who we finally learn is called Riley—are keeping the Enterprise steady around the rapidly condensing planet. Spock waxes on a bit about how they may be seeing Earth's own future, since before its sun went dark Psi 2000 was very similar to Earth. I dunno what we're going to do with that information, but hey, science!
Everything seems to be going alright so far, except that both Sulu and Riley have caught that bad case of Out, Damn Spot that's been going around, complete with sinister rattling. Kirk can't hear the soundtrack, though, so he doesn't notice anything off. He goes over to talk to Spock about the strange case of Tormolen. Spock thinks Tormolen was too confused to be actively trying to kill himself, but he notes that the man's capacity for self-doubt has always been high and wonders what caused it to suddenly come to the surface like that.
In Sickbay, Chapel and McCoy are operating on Tormolen, but it's not going well, even when McCoy blowtorches Tormolen's wound shut.
[Image description: McCoy and Chapel, dressed in blue Sickbay scrubs, doing surgery on a draped body at a Sickbay table. McCoy is saying, “Closing,” while pointing a device at the patient. The device looks remarkably like a completely undisguised blowtorch. ]
We briefly cut away to the bridge, where there's been a sudden increase in gravity that causes the orbit to go all wonky. Riley's too busy looking at his hands to do his job, causing Kirk to have to do it while Riley sits there and sweats heavily. Back in Sickbay, Tormolen's vitals are inexplicably dropping, and despite McCoy and Chapel's best efforts, he dies. This really freaks McCoy out because Tormolen's wounds shouldn't have been fatal. He calls Kirk to Sickbay, and after taking a moment for a bit of exposition, Kirk heads down.
Sulu and Riley talk about how much they're both sweating, then Sulu abruptly suggests they head down to the gym for a bit of a workout to calm their nerves. Riley is understandably perplexed about this, but that doesn't stop Sulu from sneaking off the bridge unnoticed (somehow), leaving poor Riley with no idea what to do about it.
In Sickbay, McCoy is explaining to Kirk that Tormolen's wounds were not severe enough to kill him, and says that the only reason he died was because he didn't want to live. Um. I don't think you can will yourself to death. Especially not while you're unconscious. But McCoy can't come up with anything else, and he's especially baffled because he says that men like Tormolen don't give up. They can't be trusted to investigate inexplicable deaths without contaminating themselves and they're incredibly susceptible to ennui, but they don't give up.
Kirk wonders if this is a coincidence, with Tormolen dying after having been down on the planet where all those other people died. McCoy can't see how, since they checked everything they could and did everything that was possible. Kirk tells him to check the impossible too. What the hell does that mean? “Check if he was a vampire! See if he died from Kryptonite poisoning! Try sprinkling fairy dust on him!”
On the bridge, the orbit goes out of whack, causing Spock to finally notice that one of the helmsmen is mysteriously absent. He runs over and sets things straight, recruiting a guy called Rand (no relation) to take Sulu's place and demanding to know why Sulu isn't there. Riley is...not very helpful.
[Image description: Riley, a white goldshirt with brown hair and a very drunk look on his face, sitting at the helm on the bridge and proclaiming, “Have no fear, Riley's here!”]
Spock relieves Riley, replacing him with Uhura. That's right, Uhura can run communications and fly the ship. Uhura can do anything.
Spock sends Riley to Sickbay, and Riley goes happily enough, sauntering off through the corridors and opening the Sickbay doors by blowing on them. He goes in and pesters Chapel, first mournfully asking her what happened to Tormolen, then, without skipping a beat, starts hitting on her, causing more sinister rattling when he touches her chin. Then he says that Tormolen's mistake was that he wasn't born an Irishman. Because as we all know, Irish people are immortal. Then he leaves. Well, to be fair, Spock just said to report to Sickbay, he didn't say anything about what to do when Riley got there.
Riley's pretty quickly overshadowed though, because immediately afterwards we see Sulu burst through a door, shirtless, laughing, waving a rapier, and having the time of his life.
[ID: Sulu, wearing only his uniform pants and boots, standing in the middle of an Enterprise corridor, grinning and striking a duelist’s pose with a rapier. The subtitle reads [Music]. ]
Legend has it that the original script was undecided about whether Sulu was using a rapier or a samurai sword, and that the choice was up to Takei, who went with the rapier because he felt that the samurai sword was much too stereotypical for a Japanese character, something he really wanted to break away from because in the 60s it was really goddamn hard for an Asian actor to get any role that wasn't a pile of stereotypes. Legend—and by legend, I mean, George Takei—also has it that Takei spent the time up until the shoot frantically doing push-ups in his dressing room to prepare for his shirtless scenes. He really enjoyed this episode, and boy howdy can you tell by watching him.
Sulu encounters a couple of crewmen walking the other way, who have an astounding lack of reaction to being spontaneously menaced by a really sweaty guy with a sword. At least, up until he charges them, at which point they turn tail and run away. Sulu only finds greater amusement in this, calling them cowards as he climbs up a nearby ladder.
Meanwhile, Spock gets a guy to relieve Uhura, and Kirk comes on the bridge to discuss the strange case of the missing helmsmen. He tells Uhura to send a security team out to locate and confine the two of them, and Uhura responds with a report about Sulu's antics.
Spock proposes a pattern of hidden personality traits suddenly surfacing: Tormolen's self-doubt, Sulu's desire to be a swashbuckler, and Riley...being really proud of being Irish. I guess that's a personality trait.
Before they can go any farther with this theory, there's another disturbance from the planet, only this time the helmsmen can't compensate because their controls aren't working. Kirk decides enough's enough and orders them to warp out of there, but the warp drive also isn't responding. Neither are the impulse engines.
Kirk heads off to see what's up with this, but he's interrupted by Sulu bursting in on the bridge, waving his sword around wildly, and I don't think Shatner's expression as the rapier gets shoved in his face had much to do with acting. Uhura tries to get the sword away, but Sulu grabs her to his side, declaring, “I'll protect you, fair maiden!” To which she responds, “Sorry, neither.” Wow. Censors were asleep that day, huh.
A triple attack by Kirk, Spock and Uhura gets Sulu a Vulcan nerve pinch for his trouble, and Spock has him hauled off to Sickbay, with a surprisingly snarky comment from Spock about “D'Artagnan here.” Kirk goes back to trying to raise Scotty about that engine trouble...but it's not Scotty that replies. It's Riley. He says that he's relieved Scotty of his duties and also that he's the captain now. Apparently they can't shut him off, either, because he goes on to demand double portions of ice cream for dinner and then starts singing “I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.” Kirk's face says it all.
[ID: Kirk, standing on the bridge next to the lift doors with one hand to his forehead, looking extremely frustrated, while Riley sings, “I’ll take you home again Kathleen...” over the intercom.]
Kirk's having a really bad day.
With nineteen minutes to go before they swandive into the collapsing planet, Kirk finally reaches Engineering, where Scotty is doing his best to get in. He says that Riley told everyone that Kirk wanted them on the bridge, then locked the door behind them. Wow. It is really easy to take over Engineering. Not only that, but Riley's hooked everything up to the main panel in Engineering, so they can't use auxiliary control. The only way they can get back into Engineering is to literally burn a hole through the wall, which is going to be tricky because the wall is full of stuff that you really don't want to burn through.
Riley's still singing, and I would comment on the quality of his singing, but that would be very hypocritical of me, so I won't. Besides, everyone else in the episode will do it for me. Uhura reports to Spock that various incidents among the crew are increasing, either because of the sickness or because they're all just worried they're gonna die, so Spock orders her to have the main sections sealed off so they can hopefully slow down the spread of this thing. But Uhura's alert is cut off by Riley, who's also overridden the alert channels. You can do anything from Engineering. Riley tells Uhura that she won't get ice cream since she interrupted his song. Awwww. He also says there will be a dance in the bowling alley later. Hang on, they have a bowling alley? Of all the things you could have installed for entertainment on your starship, you picked a bowling alley? No wonder they're so desperate for shore leave all the time.
Uhura says she can't do anything to cut Riley off, so Spock goes over and presses a bunch of buttons to confirm this. I've noticed a running theme in this show is that no one believes Uhura when she says she can't do something or something's not working. Then again, that happens to Scotty a lot too.
Just then, there's a big jolt, and everyone dutifully flings themselves across the set. My favorite part of this is the brief cutaway to Sickbay where we see McCoy doing a belly flop across Sulu's legs.
[ID: Sickbay tilting to the side, causing Chapel to fall backward onto a bed and McCoy to wind up horizontal on top of a passed-out Sulu.]
He calls up to the bridge to complain about this (apparently Riley didn't bother cutting that particular channel) and says that they're running tests on Sulu but haven't found anything yet. Kirk asks if there's anything he can do about Riley, but McCoy's got nuthin. Not even some tranquilizer gas to pump in there or anything. You're falling down on the job, there, Bones. Literally and metaphorically.
Riley calls in again to give the female crewmembers orders on how to look (thanks dude), including telling them not to wear too much makeup. You don't want too much makeup on this ship, Riley, you better take that up with Mr. Spock and his eyeshadow.
Then he starts singing “I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen” one more time. Which I guess is the only song he knows. You couldn't mix it up a bit there, Riley? Rocky Road To Dublin? Galway Bay? Thousands Are Sailing? No?
Scotty does something that gives the bridge enough power to keep the ship stabilized, but that's not that much help since their orbit is still decaying and they're now sixteen minutes away from faceplanting into the planet (faceplaneting). Kirk takes a moment to sign a PADD for a crewman. Kirk. Kirk, the ship is crashing. You can do paperwork later. He sends Spock down to help McCoy, but tells him to stop on the way to harangue Scotty to go faster.
On his way, Spock encounters a maniacally laughing man who's painted 'love mankind' on the wall, and a goldshirt harassing Rand, because harassing Rand is the main pastime on the Enterprise. Spock tells him to stop that, and he does...until Spock leaves, whereupon he immediately starts again. Helpful.
Spock finds Scotty, who says he's doing the best he can, dammit, and he can't cut through the bulkhead safely any faster, but Spock tells him they don't have time to be safe. This clearly perturbs Scotty deep in his engineer's soul. Not much anyone can do about it now, though.
In Sickbay, McCoy is yelling at the biopsy lab, but they're not responding, so he goes over to yell at them in person. Chapel is left behind with Sulu, who's coming out of the tranquilizer (we can tell because he's thrashing his head around and grunting). Unfortunately Chapel has the contagion from where Riley touched her, and she wanders off.
Things aren't going well on the bridge. Riley is still singing, various people are having to be shoved out of their chairs as they succumb to the contagion, and Kirk is about to lose it. He snaps at Uhura to cut Riley off, and she snaps back at him that she sure as hell would if she could. Kirk has the good grace to apologize, but it's understandable; I think anyone would lose it after that many renditions of “I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen.”
Spock finally makes it to Sickbay, where he encounters Chapel, who starts rubbing his hand and talking about how the men from Vulcan treat their women. Keep in mind that's the Vulcan equivalent of passionately making out, so Spock is understandably pretty perturbed by this, especially when she starts saying she loves him. Spock finally manages to disentangle himself, but it's too late: he's been infected too. He wanders out into the corridor, ignoring Uhura's attempts to get a hold of him, and starts sniffling, which is the Spock equivalent of attacking people with a sword.
Kirk stomps down to Engineering with some security guys in tow, where Scotty is finishing up cutting a Tetris block-shaped piece out of the wall. He reaches his hand right in the still-smoking hole (badass) and opens the door, letting Kirk and the redshirts rush in and apprehend Riley. Riley's a graceful loser, though; he just says, “No dance tonight,” and gets thrown into the redshirts while Kirk and Scotty desperately start pushing buttons.
Meanwhile, Spock finds an empty room to duck into, and tries desperately to get control of himself, collapsing into a chair and muttering some math as he breaks into sobs. This is an interesting scene, because it wasn't originally in the script; Spock was supposed to have a much more light-hearted encounter where he burst into tears after getting a mustache drawn on him by the mad graffiti artist. Nimoy objected, feeling that this was out of character for Spock and missing a great opportunity, so he pushed for the scene to be changed. He had to keep pushing, because the scriptwriter didn't initially want to do it, and then it came in at the end of the shooting day and no one thought they could get it done in time, but Nimoy persevered and did the whole thing in one take right under the wire.
The result is something special: a rare scene showing Spock in a moment of true, open vulnerability, confessing to the feelings he insists he doesn't have, the struggle to keep himself restrained and logical to the point that he can't confess feelings like love and friendship even to himself. It also stands out from the rest of the episode, as aside from Tormolen—whose arc, while tragic, is rather flat--most of the results of the affliction are much more Wacky Hijinks than anything seriously emotional.
There's bad news in Engineering: Scotty's found out that Riley turned the engines off completely, and it would take thirty minutes to start them up again. This is bad, since they're now starting to burn up in the planet's atmosphere and have got about eight minutes left...leading to one of Scotty's most famous lines: “I cannot change the laws of physics. I got to have thirty minutes!”
Well, Kirk isn't going to take the immutable laws of physics as an excuse. He suggests a controlled implosion of the engines, but Scotty says that's only a theory and has never been done. They'd need a row of computers working weeks to find the right formula. Speaking of which, where is Spock?
In Sickbay, Sulu has finally come round, which for some reason involves screaming at the top of his lungs while McCoy watches dispassionately.
[ID: Sulu sitting up in Sickbay and screaming, while McCoy watches him with a hypospray in his hand.]
When he's done screaming, Sulu seems back to normal and apparently doesn't remember anything since he left the bridge. That's enough for McCoy, who shoves Chapel out of her chair (there's a lot of shoving people out of their chairs in this episode) and calls the lab to tell them they've finally isolated the problem. He says that somehow on Psi 2000 water has changed to a complex chain of molecules (it what now) that's passed through perspiration and acts like alcohol once it's in the bloodstream. Except it doesn't cause anyone to lose coordination, or slur their speech, or throw up, or pass out, or have difficulty thinking, or have any effect aside from soul-baring and a lot of sweating. So...maybe not a whole lot like alcohol. McCoy tries to tell all this to the lab, but they just laugh hysterically at him, so he goes off to do it himself.
Kirk finds Spock (...somehow) and demands to know why he's crying in a side room while the ship is crashing. Spock starts talking about his mother and how he could never tell her he loved her. It's very moving, but we've only got five minutes before no one on the ship is going to be telling anyone anything ever again, so Kirk's got no time to listen. Not even when Spock says that he feels ashamed when he feels friendship for Kirk, a touching admission which is somewhat undercut by the fact that Kirk is currently expressing that friendship by smacking Spock repeatedly across the face.
Eventually Spock gets tired of this and backhands Kirk in return, sending him tumbling over the nearby table with such force I'm surprised Spock didn't break his jaw in the process. Kirk starts ranting about the about implosion process and then smacks the nearby console when Uhura tries to contact him, from which he intuits that he's got the infection. Then he starts going on about how the Enterprise consumes everything in his life and he can't have normal relationships. Now, when Tormolen, Sulu and Riley were affected it took considerable time for substantial behavior changes to occur, but Kirk has to one-up everyone so he managed it in about five seconds. Meanwhile, Spock calms down and starts talking about the intermix formula, because...I guess he just got over this by himself. Also, I'm pretty sure five minutes have passed by now.
Scotty comes in to try and get something useful out of somebody, and he and Spock go off to work on the intermix formula, leaving Kirk to angstily make his way up to the bridge. As he steps out of the turbolift, McCoy is waiting to give him the antidote, which he does by ripping Kirk's sleeve open. Even though hyposprays can go through clothing. And Kirk's exposed neck is right there. And a gentle tug at the fabric would have been more than sufficient. Look, McCoy's had a long day, alright, he needs to take it out on somebody.
[ID: Kirk standing in front of the bridge lift doors looking tired and annoyed while McCoy injects a hypospray into the bare skin on his arm exposed by Kirk’s uniform shirt sleeve being ripped open almost down to the elbow.]
While we're at it, the question must be asked: how did McCoy manage to not get infected this whole time? He was in ample contact with lots of people who were infected, while wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and somehow never once had the slightest bit of skin-to-skin contact with any of them? The only thing I can come up with is that he was infected but it was impossible to tell any difference.
On the screen, the planet is rushing past closer and closer while everyone stares silently. In Engineering, Spock and Scotty are cutting even more corners to get the intermix to work in time. They do...something, and the lights go dim on the bridge while everyone reacts dramatically; Kirk goes full throttle by throwing his head back in a silent scream, while McCoy is content to rub his ear and squint a bit.
Then it's all over: the lights come back up and instead of a rapidly approaching planet on the viewscreen there's an open starfield. Spock comes up to say that they were successful, obviously, but with a bit of a hitch: they overloaded the engines and now they're traveling faster than possible. Not only that, but the ship chronometer is now running backward. They're going backward in time! Why is this happening? Who knows. Maybe they just went so fast they came back around again the other way.
They hit the brakes, but not before traveling three days back in time. Well, could've been worse. Spock points out that this is all very intriguing, having, you know, access to time travel now, but Kirk isn't interested in repeating this experiment anytime soon. He tells Sulu to take them on to their next destination. Um. Are you sure it's a good idea to head to your next destination before you've technically departed your last one? You're gonna get some questions from Starfleet about why you're not on the mission you're supposed to be on.
Anyway, the episode ends there, leaving the whole time travel thing a bizarre non-sequitor that comes out of nowhere, adds nothing whatsoever to the episode, and is never mentioned again. This is because this episode was originally supposed to be a two-parter leading into Tomorrow Is Yesterday, which is a proper full-fledged time travel episode. For whatever reason that didn't happen, though, so we just have this weird little endcap that it's probably best not to think about too much.
TREK TROPE TALLY: Crew death count for this episode is one blueshirt (Tormolen), bringing us up to seventeen. We also have our first case of Space Diseases with the Emotions Virus, our first case of a Time Trek, albeit an extremely mild one with the Enterprise getting thrown back three days into the past, and our second case of Uniforms Unformed with Kirk’s tissue-paper sleeve being mercilessly destroyed by McCoy. Next time, we'll be looking at a tale of doppelganger woe in The Enemy Within.
#star trek#star trek TOS#star trek tos season one#1.4 The Naked Time#recap tag#star trek TOS recaps#1.4 The Naked Time recap
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The Tulips Are Too Red
A/N: So, I have a favor to ask of you all. Sooooo many of you have shared such kind words with me, sending encouragement my way in regards to my writing. Many of you even believe that I could be published my day. That still gets to me.
Anyway, here’s the thing, before I ventured into writing BP fics, I created a completely fictional story that I planned to post on Wattpad once I finished the other stories on there. Well, that never happened. I was working on chapters, getting up to three done but stopped as I was busy with other Wattpad fics. However, you guys have really got me thinking about my writing and just future in general.
So, I’m posting one of the chapters that I’ve written in the hopes that you guys will let me know your honest opinion of it. If it’s shitty, please say so. Constructive criticism will only make me better as a writer.
Also, as I was rereading it, I realized that I could really turn this into a BP fanfic as well, a T’Challa x OC story once I finish up the rest of the fics that I’m juggling.
Okay. I’ll shut up and allow you to read. I also won’t tag anyone because this is far from what you’re used to seeing from me.
----
It Is Winter Here
Chapter 1
It is Winter Here.
There are exactly twenty-four hours in a day. In minutes, that number grows to 1,440, and in seconds, it’s a whopping 86,400. Most people don’t think about stuff like that. Time. Unless they’re wondering how much they have left before they can clock off and go home to their adoring wife who’s been slaving over a stove all day. Or maybe their kids who’ve been home alone since they got out of school doing God knows what with God knows who. Other than those scenarios, and maybe a few more, like I said, hardly ever cross the mind.
But I’m not most people.
I tend to think about these things. I think about a lot of things actually. Like how long Craig plans to grow out his hair, or if Tammy will ever realize that that infomercial with claims of a one hundred percent success rate is based on a trial of exactly five participants, four of them, paid ‘volunteers’. I also notice a lot of things. Most of which, again, people are never privy to because of their supercilious concerns.
Like I said.
Not most people.
I watch her, not even attempting to hide my suspicious stare. She’s been sitting in the same spot for over an hour, a People magazine in hand and expensive shades over her eyes. To anyone else, she’s just another patron with plenty of time to spare. To me, she’s a hawk. No one reads the same magazine for an hour straight, especially one with a Kardashian on the cover.
“For someone who literally needs someone to wipe his ass, this guy is one hell of a di*k.” I look over at Candi who has been reading for roughly thirty minutes and is almost halfway through with the 400-page novel. “He sounds cute though. At least, the way she describes him makes him sound cute.”
“So you’d take him to the shop?” Zaria shifts in her seat, eyes staying on the photographic book in her lap. She’s had the same one for over an hour.
Candi giggles and lifts her left shoulder. “He could own the shop.” I roll my eyes and tap my nails against the mahogany wood armrest of my spacious chair. “Candi likes being on top anyway.”
“Candi likes all positions.” I chime, finally throwing in my two cents.
She sighs loudly and flips her blonde locks over a naturally tanned shoulder. “I’m a lover, Nova. You should try it sometime.”
“Oh I think you have enough to give for the three of us, Candi Cane.” I wink and return my eyes to the woman in question. I squeeze the solid chair, ignoring the pressure it puts on my weak nails. She still has that same damn magazine and has again started from the first page, looking over the front cover like she doesn’t already have the scandalous image and cliched caption memorized.
“Guys.” Zaria’s voice brings me back to reality as she pulls down the sleeves of her white shirt. There’s no need for her to do so, but it’s a habit of hers. “It’s time.”
Sure enough, Pat is only feet away from us, that stupid rehearsed smile on his droopy face.
“Already.” Candi pouts and puts her arms in front of her, hands in between her thighs, her busty chest on full display. “But I’m almost done.”
Pat offers a strained smile, chubby fingers going up to adjust his thick-rimmed glasses. “Why don’t you just buy the book, Candi?”
She tilts her head to the side and deepens her pout. “I already spent my allowance.”
“On?” When she smiles wickedly, his Adam's apple moves up and then down. “Candi.”
“Oh relax, Patty.” She giggles again and chews on her bottom lips, untangling her long legs and rising to her full height. “What kind of girl do you think I am?” She pulls out a southern accent and pulls a finger to her mouth, pretending to think. “Or is it woman?”
“I wanna buy mine,” Zaria informs, also standing up, looking like a lost child next to Candi’s lengthy frame. “Nova?”
I get up, taking Candi’s book and placing it on top of mine. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Zaria pulls her sleeves down again and tucks the book under her arm, walking in front of me, leaving poor Pat to deal with Candi while we complete this transaction.
On our way to the registers, I look back and see that the Hawk is walking out, stuffing the magazine in her black Hamilton bag.
She can’t be stealing. It’s a possibility, but judging by the tennis bracelet on her wrist and that rock on her ring finger, stealing seems rather out of character. No. The magazine is clearly hers. I wiggle my fingers and fix my jaw.
Who in the hell comes to a bookstore to read a magazine they already own?
Like I said, hawk.
✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻
The car ride back is long, bumpy, and crowded. The van, overdue for some serious improvements or a junking, has a strong odor. It’s not vomit inducing, but its stench will leave you crinkling your nose when you first get a waft. In the second row, seatbelt stretched and clutching onto a protruding chest, Candi engages in conversation with the driver.
He’s new, probably a tempt, and after a car ride with Candi Wallace, this will be his last time filling in.
“It’s so beautiful.” Zaria murmurs to my left, her tiny fingers and raggedy nails trailing over a portrait of the grand canyon. “The view from the top must be breathtaking.”
I give the picture a few seconds of my time, for her sake. It is nice, but nature has never really stood out to me. Too many elements that I can’t control. “Maybe one day you can take your own picture. That one, I’d maybe even frame.”
Aside from a small smile, she says nothing.
The rest of the ride is filled with Candi’s musing and Pat’s occasional business calls. When we pull up, the driver and Pat flash ID’s; the guard peaks his head in the car to make sure that everything checks out.
After Candi flashes him a wink and places her index finger in her mouth, he gives her a one-over and lets us in.
“He wants me.” She mouths to us and then giggles, clapping her hands together and resuming her goal of bugging the driver. When we pull up to the entrance, she’s the first one out, blowing him a kiss and happily waving. “Call me.”
“Maybe,” I add on, smiling when she shoots me a glare. “I couldn’t help.”
“Jealousy really isn’t becoming of you, Nova.” She raises her chin and saunters through the automatic doors, switching her hips and uttering variations of hello to everyone she passes.
“You gotta admit.” Zaria starts, keeping her book clutched against her chest. “She’s fun to be around.”
I look over my shoulder to see Pat watching us closely. He’s so annoying.
I roll my eyes. “My lady, you and I have very different definitions of fun.” Swinging my arm around her shoulder is easy as we’re roughly the same height. I think I have an inch on her, maybe even less.
She laughs, and I crack a small smile. Those are becoming more prevalent by the day. It’s a stark contrast from our first meeting where she woke me up out of my sleep with screams and sobs that were only silenced by a heavy sedative.
We’ve come a long way.
“Ladies.” Pat interrupts. I suppress my eye roll.
As always, Candi is the first to volunteer. Smiling happily, she keeps her arms up wide and legs spread perfectly. “It’s new.” She informs happily when the man reaches her chest and pouts when he says nothing in reference to Candi’s new bra. When he’s done, Candi mouths ‘as*hat’ to us, and I put myself in front of the man before he gets a chance to call on Zaria.
With a bored face, I let him do his job, sending a glare when he keeps his hands on my as* for too long.
Creep.
When it comes to Zaria’s turn, I take her book from her, sending her a reassuring grin. She doesn’t return my gesture, but I’m okay with that. Her eyes say thanks. That’s enough for me.
Any sign of trust from Zaria is enough for me.
My glare stays on the jerk the entire time. I watch his every movement, waiting for him to try something with her. When he gets to her chest, I feel fingers move about, fighting the urge to ball my fist. I can literally see the discomfort on her part. She’s literally counting the seconds until he moves his hands anywhere else. I don’t know if he can tell that I’m willing to have my level 5 access revoked or if he senses the ardent apprehension radiating from her, but he keeps it short and professional. As soon as he’s done, she’s back by me, reaching for her book.
“Well, he was a meanie,” Candi comments as we wait for Pat to put the key in the panel right next to the elevator.
“Too touchy feely for my liking,” I reply loud enough so Pat can hear. He says nothing. Neither does Zaria. The rest of the elevator ride is in silence aside from Candi humming “Oops! I Did It Again.”
When we finally reach our floor, the three of us stand outside the elevator for our evaluation.
“Well, you ladies seemed to have done rather well today.” Pat smiles, the fat on his face parallel with the rolls that make up his neck. “If you’d like, we can try again next week.” I yawn, wishing that I could just walk away. I’d risk losing my clearance for Zaria or even Candi, but not myself.
Someone has to keep these two from extending their bid.
“Tomorrow the group outing is to the aquarium.” He smiles fondly like this is the best news we’ve heard all day. One glance to a somewhat excited Zaria makes me realize that for her, it probably is. “I think you all would have a fine time.”
“I wanna show off my new bra. I’m game.” Candi grabs her boobs, lifting them with a wink and a smile. “Nova?”
I can literally think of a million things that I’d rather do than spend a day at the aquarium, but one look at Zaria, and I know my decision has already been made for me.
“I guess a day with Happy Feet won’t be too bad.” What I want to say is it won’t kill me, but around here, there are just some words you want to try and avoid. Kill being one of them. It’s for good reason though.
Even I’m not too much of an as*hole to admit that.
✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻
For dinner, we had chicken lasagna with mixed vegetables, garlic bread, and apple pie for dessert. If it sounds magically delicious, you’re magically wrong.
The chicken was bland, the vegetables cold, and the garlic bread might have left me with some cracked teeth. The apple pie was decent, but nothing to brag about. I shouldn’t complain. Yesterday we had beef casserole.
Majority of my plate ended up in the trash.
“He was cute though, right?” Candi brushes through her hair, that dazed look in her eyes. That can only mean one thing. She’s already been given her nighttime dosage. “Of course he was. I only fu*k with the best.”
Zaria, fresh-faced, arms out and exposed in her short-sleeved shirt and blue Soffee shorts, offers a small laugh. “He must have been close to forty Candi.”
“And I thought you only liked ballers?” I wondered aloud from my position on Zaria’s bed. Next to me, she continues to admire the pictures in her book.
“Well, duh. I need a middleman to get to him.” She says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, moving her shoulders from side to side, admiring her reflection. “I think my tits are getting bigger.”
“Your tits or your ego?”
She glares through the mirror and then pouts. “Boo, you whore.”
Zaria frowns. “You know I don’t like that word.”
“You don’t like anything, Zaria.” Candi rolls her eyes.
“Better than liking everything.” Zaria shoots back with a sly smile. I high five her, much to Candi’s chagrin. “If you catch my drift.”
“You guys are mean.” She stomps her feet and resumes brushing her hair.
When Zaria yawns, I realize her that her Clonezepam has already kicked in. Her lids are heavy, and she moves to put her book up.
“Uh oh. I think someone is sweepy.” She says in a baby voice and moves to pinch Zaria’s cheek, but Zaria swats her hand away. Candi laughs and sits on the bed, giving her a half hug. “Night, ladybug.” She kisses her cheek and brushes the top of her head.“You know I’m right down the hall if ya’ need me, sugar.”
“And I’m right next door,” I add on, lightly punching her on the arm. “Sleep tight, kid.”
“Thanks, guys.” She smiles gratefully, getting up at the same time we do so she can pull back the covers. She doesn’t even care that the horizontal lines on the inside of her thighs from not even two years ago are on full display. In the privacy of her room, even with Candi and I, Zaria is true to be herself.
We all are.
Candi yawns loudly with outstretched arms. “I’m wiped.”
“Doesn’t take much.” I chuckle, but hug her side. “Good night Candi Cane.”
She smiles brightly, her pearly whites distracting the small mole on the right side of her chin. “Night, babycakes.” I don’t even react as she squeezes my butt. I simply shake my head and walk over to my door.
I stop when I go to turn the handle, noticing the light peaking through the bottom of the door.
Smirking, I walk in and shut it behind me.
“Can I help you with something?”
He’s sitting on the green, faux leather chair in the corner of my room. I narrow my eyes, wishing that I could wipe that smug grin off his chiseled face. He leans forward, his green scrubs a contrast against his sun-kissed skin, the short sleeves clinging against solid muscle.
“I’m here for night check.”
I chuckle, purposely taking my time as I make my way over to him. “Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you Mr..,” I look over at the badge on his shirt. “Collins, but I have level 5 access. I don’t need a night check.” My body is jolted forward, my knees immediately separating so that I’m straddling him. “This is highly unprofessional and extremely inappropriate.” I moan as one hand goes to stroke my already hardened nipple and the other slips into my shorts.
He mimics my chuckle, satisfied when he feels the wetness already pooling from my core. “I’ve seen your records, Ms. Young.” He stands us up, his hand still in my shorts, teasingly running his finger up and down my folds. “Breaking rules is your specialty.”
I look down at him, his blue eyes holding nothing but pent up lust. Using my index finger, I run my finger down his cheek, parting his mouth and tugging on his bottom lip.
“Then what are you waiting for, Doctor?”
With a guttural growl, he throws me on the bed. I don’t think I need to tell you what happened next.
Two hours later, he’s long gone, and I’m out like a light.
Just another typical day at Lakeshore Mental Hospital.
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Top 10 Plus Size Hijabi Fashion Bloggers You Need To Follow Outfit Trends - Ideas How to Wear & What to Wear
New Post has been published on https://www.outfittrends.com/top-plus-size-hijabi-fashion-bloggers/
Top 10 Plus Size Hijabi Fashion Bloggers You Need To Follow
Top Plus Size Hijab Fashion Bloggers: For the longest, we have all believed beauty as it was defined by others in terms of colors, shapes, and sizes. However, the new shift in trends promotes body positivity and talks about how important it is to be confident in your own skin.
Self-acceptance is essential when it comes to celebrating body positivity. Uplift yourself and others around you by redefining beauty and loving yourself with each passing moment. Here, we talk about 10 beautiful Hijabi women that choose to celebrate themselves with strength and courage. These plus size women do not fear to talk about body shaming, self-acceptance, and self-love which were previously believed to be topics that not everyone could speak about. Their strong will and positive attitude are worth looking up to. Get ready for a dose of inspiration which will leave you wanting to know more.
What Plus Size Hijab Bloggers to Follow?
Beauty is not size-zero nor is it in curves. Beauty is resilience that each of these 10 beautiful ladies encompasses. Spread across the globe, these women take each day at a time, spreading smiles wherever they go. Their fashion sense and beauty choices are unmatchable and are all worn with absolute confidence. We are in awe of how they beat social standards effortlessly and are now creating examples for others. They flaunt their Hijab proudly, making them stand out amongst the rest. They juggle between their responsibilities and prove that they are nothing less than superheroes. Like it is said, “not all superheroes wear capes.”
↓ 10. Iyza Aryff
Iyza Aryff is a freelance Plus-size model and a fashionable one at that. Her Instagram feed is super aesthetic and we love how she puts together outfits that are modern and creative. Here is her wearing a gorgeous pink shirt that she chose to tuck inside a pleated skirt. Her super cool fashion sense and her confident self make for a killer combination. Her everyday style is definitely on fleek and we are taking notes.
Here is another one of her uber cool outfit and we wonder how she does it all. With an audience of over three thousand, she is super impressive. We absolutely love how Iyza is detail-oriented and makes sure to capture every angle of her outfit. From her jewels to her shoes, everything is picked very carefully to go well with her outfits. She is inspirational when it comes to fashion for young girls.
↓ 9. Nazirah Ashari
Nazirah, also known as Nazz, is a feminist, traveler and a woman who loves accomplishing it all. She is based out of Malaysia and makes sure that her style matches the weather there. The images from her trip to Turkey left me amazed and I was compelled to want to visit the country myself. Her captions come straight from the heart and there is always so much that she expresses through them. On her Instagram, she often jokes about her double chin, calling it her triple chin.
This is her portraying her 80’s self for a series and we are blown away by her sense of style. The turban wrap, funky shirt, and the wide-legged jeans are all stealing the show here. Following Nazz and reading more into her life, here is what we learned. The beautiful woman takes every chance to travel around but does not forget to count her blessings in life. For someone with an audience of over 3,600, it would be convenient not to talk about one’s vulnerabilities, but I love how she is able to do it with such ease. Another lesson we got from her was to love one’s own self. Despite being curvy, she loves to dress up and does so flawlessly. It would be a shame for wasting your life dressing up in boring outfits each day.
↓ 8. Afrah
Afrah is a super mom who is based out of UAE and loves talking about lifestyle, makeup and more. She is a big foodie which gives you ever the more reasons to follow her. She has a very comfortable and laid back sense of style that we absolutely adore. Many mommies out there often look for inspiration in terms of people who are comfortable enough in their skin to practice their own fashion sense. While being a stay-at-home mom may seem like an easy job, it definitely is not. We love how Afrah is able to handle it all with ease while juggling between all her responsibilities. Here is a picture of her from her trip to Washington DC, which only proves her love for travel.
Despite being a plus size, Afrah loves dressing up in floral outfits and pashmina scarfs. Watching her smile and go about her tasks with such confidence is definitely inspiring. She seems to own a large collection of Hijab Scarfs and we definitely want to see more of them. Additionally, Afrah also talks about motherhood and it is impressive how she is bringing up her 6-year-old son Rahil. With a following of over 4,700, she is definitely someone to look up to.
↓ 7. Plus By Mai
Mai Alsaudi behind the Plus By Mai blog is a Middle Eastern blogger and is a mother to a beautiful baby girl named Ameera. She is all about body positivity and also talks about the difficulties that she faced as a mother. 116 million women worldwide have been affected by PCOS which is a hormonal disorder. Not many people openly talk about it, but through her blog, she talks about her own struggle with it. We love her chic and casual fashion style which appears super comfortable.
We have not seen a better-looking mom wearing wedges and sling bag so effortlessly. Being an Arab, she practices Hijab and we admire her love for neutral colors that she is able to pair with almost every kind of outfit. She adds her personal touch to each look by picking out gorgeous pieces of accessories like sunglasses, handbags, and footwear. If you are a new mother or a mother-to-be and are looking for inspiration, Blog by Mai is the place for you.
↓ 6. Happily Hafsa
Hafsa is a motivational Muslim mom based in Chicago who claims to help moms be happy with themselves and their bodies. Despite having a simple and minimalistic style, she is definitely someone we take much of our fashion inspiration from. Her winter coats and stunning scarfs are enough to brighten our Instagram Feeds. Hafsa often talks about body shaming in terms of skin color and weight. On other times, she talks about her beautiful family and the relationship she shares with her husband. She saw him for the first time on her university campus where he was draped in a Canadian flag, running about and screaming as Canada had won the World Junior Hockey Championship. That is when she told her friend, “I feel so bad for whoever marries this crazy guy.”
The ways in which Hafsa chooses to talk about her struggles, vulnerabilities, and shortcomings are commendable. More often than not, bloggers choose to filter out the happy moments of their lives when displaying their lives publically. This gives the impression of how perfect their lives are, which is often far from reality. Hafsa’s struggles with her weight, motherhood, and work are genuine. The way she deals with it all is a true example of resilience.
Via
↓ 5. Arfa Shahid
Here is one of our favorite Fashion bloggers who is also a journalist. She is a Desi at heart and currently resides in Dubai. She is Pakistan’s first plus-size reporter and an amazing one at that. Her statement style involves wearing a head wrap as a Hijab along with some super quirky outfits. Arfa often gets questioned about her body positive messages which are construed as promoting obesity. She defends herself by talking about how she has lost over 20 kilos and continues to struggle with weight loss. She promotes compassion and kindness by speaking against negative body images and abuse against people of all sizes.
She has immense love for makeup, dressing up and reporting. She also has a thing for concerts and is often spotted at them. Being a Pakistani, we love how she carries Eastern attire along with her Hijab. If you are a plus size Hijabi and love all things beauty related, Arfa is the person to follow. We love her super cute videos and reviews of makeup brands. She also talks about Mental well-being as someone who has struggled with depression and anxiety. She is a genuine person who talks about her shortcomings freely. The message we get from her is all about self-love and self-acceptance.
↓ 4. Sarah Aziz
Sarah Aziz is another one of the most followed Plus Size Hijabi fashion bloggers. She has an eclectic fashion sense that is worth every praise. Being from Malaysia, she has a Southeastern style of doing the Hijab which goes very well with her Western outfits. What we absolutely adore about her is that she does not believe in beauty standards, something that body positivity is all about. She posted the picture below with a Mean Girls reference which gives us more reasons to follow her.
Sarah’s fashion sense is something all young girls would want to replicate. We love her burnt orange winter coat that she added to elevate her simple everyday look. We love how Sarah does not allow her weight to stop her from dressing up. She believes that style knows no size and we could not agree with her more.
↓ 3.Had You At Salaam
If sweet and sass had a face, it would be this supremely talented woman. Leopard prints, bold colors and a thing for makeup, are these not enough reasons to want to follow her? We love how she often takes to Instagram to talk about body shaming and how damaging it is. She talks about how she spent years obsessing over her weight and often looked into the unhealthy means of losing weight. Weight gain and weight loss are daily struggles that we all share but often do not feel the courage to address it. With individuals talking about it on such platforms, it gives a sense of relief to know that we are not alone.
Learn all the right tips and tricks to doing makeup and skin care with her. Her casual style and positive outlook are definitely worth following. Being an African, she loves talking about her culture bringing it to light through her posts. We love how she is able to pull off both her heritage clothing, as well as, modern fashion outfits both effortlessly.
↓ 2. Yasmine
Yasmine is a Canadian living in Saudi Arabia and is all about Modest fashion and Body Positivity. She is currently pregnant and we are loving her transformation. Her optimistic outlook at life and the hardships that she has faced make her who she is and we are super proud of her. Yasmine is an avid traveler and loves showcasing different cultures and places. One thing we absolutely admire about her is how she expresses her gratitude publically.
Yasmine often talks about toxic relationships and how important it is to break ties when it becomes harmful. She talks about finding love and accomplishing goals, not limited to time. With how fast paced our lives have become, it is nice to unwind with some positivity thanks to her. Looking at the picture below, we cannot help but love her fashion sense. While there seems to be a blend of colors here, we love how they seem to be going together. Despite being a Hijabi, she is able to keep up with all fashion trends and pull them off easily.
↓ 1. Intan Kemala Sari
Kemala Sari is a young Indonesian Blogger who talks about all things fashion, travel, and beauty related. The 27-year-old is also good at self motivate and has a WordPress blog where she puts her thoughts to words. The tagline to her Blog, To my Mind, reads, “Honest and sometimes random.” Her Instagram features some super cool images of her that scream Fashion goals. She redefines the definition of beauty and we are all for it. Kemala also happens to be one of the most followed Plus Size Hijabi bloggers.
This adorable image of her tells us exactly how to do Winter fashion for Plus size girls. Being a plus-size and a Hijabi does not get in her way of expressing herself. She often takes to her Instagram to talk about body shaming and here is what she has to say, “Body shaming on social media is like a natural thing done by almost everyone. So natural, they do not consider it an act of abuse because they are used to seeing it on Social media” and we could not agree more. We love how she is a source of positivity and can help many with her words of wisdom.
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unfriending my phone
So the leaves are finally starting to drop off the trees around here, giving me all the autumnal/winter pinterest-your-way-to-Halloween vibrations. Nature has a canny way of living and dying and getting rid of what it doesn’t need, taking time out, taking a rest and putting its feet up while the cold weather sets in. It doesn’t need to tweet about it, or update an instagram story with the caption “Branches are dying off lolz.” Autumn marks the beginning of death and decay, it won’t be long until we start posting pictures of our favourite streets coated in leaves (I’m into it). It’s amazing; so many of us love the colours of the fall but in essence, it is the death of living things that we celebrate, so that everything can start anew next year.
That’s reality, and I think that’s beautiful.
Here’s my point. I wish social media would take a break; I wish it would curl up in front of the fire, maybe die off and come back better for everyone next year. I know so many people who now log out of their apps, only to be sent emails from the apps themselves trying to help them “get back online.” This happened to me two weeks ago.
I don’t know whether I was suffering from PMS, or if I’d been sitting around too long, but my anxiety came on through flood gates I’d obviously forgotten to shut, so it took me a little while to realise the frequency had returned and was buzzing underneath everything before I tried to counteract its presence. I’ve realised I find it quite difficult trying to relive just how my anxiety feels in those moments, because everything seems like a big grey, squishy worm that bleeds into each passing minute, floating midair, making the atmosphere dreadful and vehr wormy. So there are no definitive emotions. Just worry, dread, pressure around my brain and the existential worry that I am not enough.
What I can recall, though, is that I was on social media so often I must have feared it was going to miss me. I have noticed that in times of my quarter life existentialism, the less I have going on around me, the more I automatically, without thought or intention, find myself immersed balls deep in social media. It takes around an hour of surfing absolute dink before I even realise how deep my balls are in the first place. I scrolled mindlessly, and through that open window of my phone, that little ignorant bitch named anxiety flew in as easily as a mother-fucking pidgeon, and I felt just as bad as that time I accidentally pronounced Pinot Grigio as Pee-not-Gri-guy-O. But alas! What did I do, but continue to swipe my poor little finger, as if it would find some answer, some pick-me-up that would relieve the overwhelming feeling of I-HAVE-FAILED (and believe me, when I ordered a Pee-not-Gri-guy-O to that waitress in the restaraunt I did feel that same sense of existential failure). I couldn’t explain to you or myself what I was looking for, and yet the more I found myself looking the worse I felt.
Let me tell you, that shit is as dangerous and addictive as gambling.
Did you know, Twitter was the first application to develop the pull-to-refresh feature, which was essentially mimicry of a slot machine? It wasn’t long before all the others followed suit (Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat et al); ever wonder why you keep refreshing your pages? Do you hope to see something new? Something more beautiful? Something you’ve been tagged in? What’s the difference between you and the fella in Aspers, feeding in twenty after twenty into the machine, in the hopes that this time, this time, he’ll be rewarded? What about the woman who keeps getting four fifties changed at a time, laying all her chips on the roulette table, and losing it all, only to change more money, because this time, this time, she might win?
It’s not about the money any more. It’s about seeking the reward, the win, the fulfilment, and in social media’s world, validation.
https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2018/may/08/social-media-copies-gambling-methods-to-create-psychological-cravings
So I’ve known for a while the power the internet and social media apps have had over me; all the articles I read in research for my novel really opened my eyes. Sometimes, though, I’m just as good as all the other people on the bus; neck craned, eyes cast downwards, quickly researching Ariana Grande’s insta feed to salivate over her aesthetic, or to see why everyone thought she was responsible for Mac Millers death (hint: she wasn’t).
It’s because, just like everyone else, I’m totally addicted to my phone.
Aside: I’m not blaming my bout of anxiety on social media, I’m just noting that it is a huge factor in how I perceive my life.
I use social media as a drug for my restlessness, and I receive sweet fuck all from it. Every time I look, it’s a reminder of how little I’m working, because I’m spending all my time thinking about working and looking at other people succeeding. It integrates this sense of failure, the smallness of my successes look in comparison, to be puney and frail. My lovely living room, amidst the quaint backdrop of my London suburb, looks boring against other artists hanging out in studios and lounging against LA backdrops online. What a failure I am; I’m eating into my savings to pay rent and afford food, I can’t buy that nice contouring set they’re selling to look the part, I’m flogging my clothes on Depop for spare change, I can’t afford flights there, I can’t afford any of this and I’m still chasing this pathetic goal of making money from my art. Every time I leave my parents house, my Dad hugs me and says, “Keep your head up, it’ll happen,” even if I haven’t spent the last two days complaining, even if I’m content, even if I run a bloody half marathon. Everyone’s still aware that she’s still trying, she’s not there yet. It’s really quite easy to lose yourself in those thoughts, it’s easy for me to reel all this off for the sake of a blogpost, but in the end I have to remind myself of the reality.
And that is, I’m fine. I’ve been doing better than I have for a long time. I’m excited, I’m getting motivated, I’m trying, I’m earning, I’m positive about the future. I’m looking after myself.It’s uncertain at times, but life is uncertain. I’m not stepping forward to play the victim in the play of me life. But that’s the kind of outlook I have in hindsight when I haven’t been on my phone all day, because social media does not help my anxiety, or hinder its progress at all. It encourages it. Instagram feeds off of my insecurity and isolation, Twitter feeds off my desire to be all knowing, Facebook creates the illusion that I’m connected when in reality I’m more separated from everyone on there than I’ve ever been.
https://www.theguardian.com/society/2017/may/19/popular-social-media-sites-harm-young-peoples-mental-health
As a generation, we’re so very disenfranchised but we’re all part of this huge market. It feels as though we’re connecting, and don’t get me wrong, social media is great for self expression and identity and openness. But at the end of the day, it’s a business, and we’re it’s blind, salivating customers. It’s a marketplace for everyone to sell themselves, even when they have no goods to offer. We’re advertised products that an algorithm predicted we’d like, we’re told to post daily to reach more followers, but most of them are bots or strangers who won’t look at your page more than once. Everyone follows each other but we don’t support or give like we used to. I get the odd comment on Instagram complimenting me on my “content,” but that “content” is just my life, I don’t plan it, I don’t create it, it just is. When did our lives become fictional?! I’m all about real action, not figurative or hopeful. I’m about judging my relationships on how they are outside of an app, not what’s said inside of it. It’s too easy to lose ourselves in the virtual version of reality, where we can create how we’re seen.
That’s the side of social media that I see, in terms of how it reflects back to me; it’s dark and foreboding, it’s void of meaning. And that is why I’ve been logging out. I want to enjoy it when I’m on there, not reminded of every flaw in my makeup. I rarely login in to Facebook now. I allow myself, twice a day, to look at Instagram (my main vice and source of all my first world anguish), and now I’ve been off-line, my desire to browse the app has diminished dramatically. I notice my boredom better than before; It doesn’t hold my attention. I caught myself scrolling half loaded pictures (bad wifi connection) this morning, and realised fifteen seconds in that I wasn’t actually looking at anything, I was swiping, endlessly, but the pictures were blurry and it was only the subconscious idea that something would appear that kept me going. So I put my phone down and finished my poop.
Has anyone else found themselves doing something similar? Has anyone else tried logging out? What kind of an effect did it have on you, on your mental health? What kind of an effect does your active participation on social media have, as a whole, on your mind? Do you feel less connected to the world, or more connected to those around you? Perhaps you have a better relationship with your phone than I do. *shrug*
I know I sound like a real doomsayer with my dark cloak (I’m not really wearing a cloak, but damn I think I’d like to) and and my seemingly pessimistic outlook. It’s not my intention to negate social media’s power to instigate positive change; just look at iWeigh, Help Refugees, Political Jules or Coppafeel. All good people using a Instagram to better spread their message of good health, equality and better body image across all platforms.
I also believe the people who have really nailed social media are the heroes, the mums and dads of Facebook and Instagram, using Facebook to share with friends and family. That’s the whole point, and I personally think that we’re missing it as a younger generation. It’s so easy to lose ourselves in a business who’s main priority is traffic across all its apps. It doesn’t care what the traffic is, whether its bad or good, friend or foe, wizard or troll (I’ve been re-reading the Harry Potter books again), only that we’re there and we’re active.
I reckon I really am an old woman at heart; so shoot me. I love my plants and painting, and I dream of living in some log cabin with an art studio, with a huge allotment, my main man and a couple of dergs, Bob Ross style. I love making music and getting on stage and performing, I love acting and I love media and I love galleries, I adore bookshops, beaches, forests. The whole, soppy whack. So what? I’m a romantic.
(That’s the only cool old lady gif I could find)^^^
I’m tired of stalling real conversations because either they or I have been sucked into apps, emails or jigsaw puzzles (it me). I want to live in this real world and create in this real world, but the discontent and conflict I feel is sometimes really, really irritating; I don’t want to use social media for my art, but it seems the only way you’re to be judged by labels and music makers. How much of a following do you have? How many likes do you pull in? How often do you post? It’s not about your art any more, it’s how good you are at selling it. I have enough trouble dealing with all the cogs turning in my brainbox without thinking about all this bullshit. And it goes beyond all that, it’s really irrelevant what career I choose, social media is addictive regardless of what we do.
So fuck that. I play the game when I have to, but I’m not bending over backwards for it.
#mentalhealthawareness#mentalhealth#mentalhealthwarrior#mentalhealthblogger#mentalhealthblog#mentalhealthandtechnology#mentalhealthandsocialmedia#socialmedia#instagramandmentalhealth#anxietyissues#livingwithanxiety#lifestyleblog#oldlady#pulldowntorefresh#worldwidewhat
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Legion of Net.Heroes Volume 3 #1: “CLASH OF TITANS! Marvel Zombie Lad versus... Marvel Zombie Girl?!; or, The Things We Leave Behind“
A dead man walked the streets of the city, looking for a comic book store.
Leaves that were left over from the fall, waiting for the spring that hadn't quite come, burst into flame and turned to ash as his boot crunched on them. Flies buzzed up to him, gave him a sniff, and scooted away. Not quite the right kind of dead.
Once, decades ago, the man had been a boy. A fan - of Marvel Comics. He had devoured them, the complex webs of plots, the continuity, the angst.
And then - the experiment. The idea that the dead could speak, not through something as simplistic as the letters on a oujia board or the noise of a staticy radio, but through the things they left behind.
The boy had taken his grandmother's comics collection and - after a week's worth of holding back, of not being at all sure the effort would be worth it - carefully, painstakingly, cut it to pieces. Each word bubble, each caption, was taken apart, word by word.
And when the pile of paper was complete, he bade it to speak. And speak it did-- but not in his grandmother's voice! In a voice of flame, a great roar that sucked in oxygen, sucked in his soul, and sent him to - The Fandom Zone!
The Fandom Zone, afterlife of dead fandoms! Whenever a fan leaves a fandom, they leave behind an image of themselves - through their fanworks, through their headcanons, through their arguments and the joy and rage they inspired in others. And this ghostly image lives in the Fandom Zone, pondering and arguing as they had in life!
The boy merged with the psychic essence of everyone who'd ever been obsessed with Marvel Comics and dropped out! From the moment the Fantastic Four blasted off in their rocket to the stars to the latest X-Men miniseries - he absorbed it all! The power transformed him into a revenant with the power to remember every one of those ridiculous, overheated plots, with the Flame Which Sears Men's Soles burning in his veins-- Marvel Zombie Lad!
Yes, and once, decades ago, Marvel Zombie Lad had been a hero - one of the Legion of Net.Heroes! His sincere and fiery passion had drawn other young heroes to the fold, and the Legion had become the greatest team in the world - a team that still lived, still fought against evil and tyranny!
...but... Marvel Zombie Lad no longer fought alongside them. The love of comics, of the Marvel comics of the early '90s, had burned bright for a time... but as the comics industry went for event after event, collector edition after collector edition, as the collector bubble prepared to pop, he had felt the flame fading, guttering out. He had wandered, as many fans do, away from the passions of his youth, seeking something that would inspire the same joy...
And he had encountered...
Something. There was a great emptiness in his memory, a gap like the blasted crater left by a meteor's fall.
Yes, and then... decades later, the LNH had found him again, wandering without memory and without purpose. And by happenstance, they had shown him something that inspired-- inspired him not to joy, but to RAGE! They had shown him - the words twisted on his tongue, turning acid - Secret Empire! And he had sworn to burn the bloated, polluted comics industry to the ground!
...but... he still lacked direction, still lacked something to turn to rather than away from. So when the East Coast Brotherhood of Net.Villains, a team of career Bad Guys whose various incarnations had fought the Legion since the early days, had offered him a place in their ranks, he had accepted.
And now, he was walking down these late-afternoon sidewalks with the measured pace of one whose undead body does not tire. He was on a mission. Somewhere near by, tucked away on an unassuming side street just off the main drag, was the most powerful comic book store in Net.ropolis - the Comics Cooperative! And he was to destroy it!
He didn't understand what value this would have to Mister Homage, the Brotherhood's leader. But it didn't matter! For in this moment, Marvel Zombie Lad was taking his revenge! Revenge on the corporate structure that had taken his favorite characters and cast them into the dark, that had folded and spindled them until they were unrecognizable, that had stomped their hob-nailed boots on his soul! This, Marvel Zombie Lad swore!
Lo! There it was! A seemingly harmless two-story building, wedged between a restaurant and an office supply store! A brightly-painted facade and a neon "OPEN" sign! Wide windows gaily decorated with posters! Squirrel Girl! Ms. Marvel! Ironheart! Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur! Icons of Marvel! Icons of what he must destroy!
The guttering flame in his heart burned bright now, wreathing his body, his fists in rolling, roiling red-yellow flame. It was time!
"Hold, ye who intend evil!"
Marvel Zombie Lad looked up toward the voice. There, on the concrete buttress atop the second floor-- a silhouette in the blinding sun! With a leap, the figure landed on the pavement! A young woman, black, wearing a leather jacket - and wreathed in curling, coruscating, red-yellow flame! "This place is defended! So swears-- Marvel Zombie Girl!"
He took a step back. "What!?"
And yet-- it should not have been surprising. He had been gone for so long, and it was a feature of the genre that new, young people stepped into the shoes of previous heroes. And yet, and yet-- he had lost the spirit-- how could he have considered that another would have it?
No matter. He would show her what ebon night of the soul she was stepping into, and see if she wanted the mantle after! "'Ware, girl! The power of Marvel Zombie Lad is the memory, branded upon the brain, of every plot back to the very beginning!" The flames leapt high around him, wind scattering the candy wrappers and cigarettes on the sidewalk. "Do you believe you possess the strength to handle the convolutions and the retcons, the glory and the defeat?"
Marvel Zombie Girl smiled, with dark eyes, eyes that had seen the shadows beyond the veil. "I have no such pedigree. My fandom began with the Avengers movie." She took a step forward, into a fighting pose, the flames swirling high around her. "But I have the same depth of passion! The same furious investment! The same thundering disappointment at being let down-- by Joss Whedon-- by the post-DeConnick Captain Marvel writers-- by the very throughline of the company that was supposed to protect my dreams! I have the same burning rage, and--" With a crackle, the flames around her burned hotter, rising to blue-white! "I have the hope you left behind!!"
And for a moment, that hope, in his breast-- but no! "Bah!" Marvel Zombie Lad leapt forward, swinging his burning fist! "Once, such hope felt real! Now, I know it to be false! Another tool of that loathsome corporation, the bait on the hook to keep you reading, keep you buying issues!"
She parried his blow and went in with a kick! "And has your apathy brought you newer, better stories? Has it created a comics company without these flaws?"
"Perhaps not-- but perhaps razing the grotesque rot that remains will bring some new life to this blasted heath!" He thrust out his arms, and his aura flared, a wave of pressure exploding out from his body.
Marvel Zombie Girl managed to block at the last moment, arms held up in a Claremontian X in front of her, blue-white aura flowing back in the wave of pressure like a windsock in a tempest. When it ended, she shook herself out and stood unbowed. "This place is not your enemy, fool! It is full of those who are absorbing the good that still exists - the representation and the joy and the promise and struggle of a million young heroes that might be! They deserve a chance!"
"A chance to be betrayed?" Marvel Zombie Lad pressed his attack, charging forward with a right and a left. "A chance to feel the same blazing pain we have!?"
"They already have!" A lance of blue-white fire from her chest! It scored him across the cheek, spinning him to the side! "How much of their lives have been run by the uncaring men whose greed and exploitation have wounded you so?" A kick in the belly, knocking him in the other direction! "They see the grinding of the world's gears, yet they snatch joy from them! And not just joy, but inspiration! They see the things they desired so hard for so long, and get to hold them, truly experience them-- even if for just a moment before they're taken away!"
And while Marvel Zombie Lad was off-balance, with a leap, Marvel Zombie Girl pressed an arm across his chest, pinning him to the brown brick facade of the restaurant next door! "And they channel that understanding of what it's like to see yourself there on the pages into their own creations! Fanfiction! Webcomics! Their own stories!" He could see her eyes wide, burning, yearning to be understood. "Can you deny them the chance to speak those stories into existence, the opportunity that Lee and Kirby and so many others who built this monument had?"
He looked away, flame churning in his gut, feelings, thoughts in chaos. "No... but... nnn... GHH!" Flame BURST from his body, knocking Marvel Zombie Girl away - a wave of pressure that was deeper, darker and more desperately powerful, like the smoky warmth of Hell! "They will have the chance - once I sever the connection to those awful men! Once I knock down the temples of false worship! Once I free you* from my curse - the curse of this damned emotional attachment, this love that only causes pain! I do this now, in your defeat!"
Marvel Zombie Girl landed, hard, on the pavement, scraping her elbows and hands. Her flame faded to a blue-white flicker.
Marvel Zombie Lad stepped forward, standing over her, flaming fists high. "Go. You're beaten."
She rolled over, looking up at him... and grinned. "You're the one who's lost this battle."
"??" Marvel Zombie Lad took a step back in shock. Preposerous bravado! A bluff! But-- "How!?"
"Don't you see?" Marvel Zombie Girl rose fluidly to her feet, the Flame Which Sears Men's Soles rising up around her, as if the blows had never happened. "You're trying to get rid of the younger, female, legacy character of color who's stepped into your heroic role... just as Marvel has done with its heroes, so unfairly, so many times! You have become everything wrong with modern Marvel Comics... ALL YOU HATE!"
Her eyes locked on his, opening wide. She tapped into the power at the heart of the Flame - the Penitence Gaze, seeking out and revealing the guilt in his heart - revealing her words to be TRUTH!
"NOOOOOO!" Marvel Zombie Lad cowered back from the burning truth, mind aflame with searing Angst.
"You dismissed the joy others took from your lost love!" The merciless gaze burned him unabated. "You fought against our hope! You became the fandom bully!"
It was true, it was all true! Marvel Zombie Lad staggered back, fell to his knees. His flame drew low, turned to a heat shimmer, went out.
His rage-- his mission-- a sham! What profit it a man to find his purpose - if he lose his soul!?
Suddenly he could no longer feel the Penitence Gaze upon him. He looked up. Marvel Zombie Girl stood there, flame low, holding out a hand.
"I... I don't understand," he said.
"Your actions were wrong. But your feelings are valid," she said. "There is so much to be frustrated about, so much wrong with this industry, this world. You are not the only one raging. Instead of fighting against us, you can fight *alongside* us. Add to our flame. You were a hero once. You can be again."
"...I..." He looked away, hands clenched. "I don't..." This could be it. The direction, the purpose he'd been looking for.
...but... he wasn't ready. Finally, he admitted it to himself. He wasn't ready to let his rage lessen, burn down to the levels of a hero, not a destroyer. He had to get it out first. Else it would consume him.
He wasn't ready to join her. He couldn't reject her. His hand went down to his belt, and he thumbed the emergency East Coast Brotherhood of Net.Villains teleporter, and he was gone.
Marvel Zombie Girl watched him disappear, leaving behind a trail of blue sparkles, and burn marks on the pavement, and...
She nodded, once, hand curling into a fist, pressing to her chest. "Someday." She looked off, toward the sun, as it sank below the horizon. "Someday."
★★★★
Author’s Note:
Legion of Net.Heroes Volume 3 is going to be a new-reader-friendly ongoing title by the writers of the LNH! And you can write it too! Stop by rec.arts.comics.creative to join the community, and stop by the LNH Wiki to learn more about the LNH!
#Superheroes#Adventure#Comic Books#Marvel Comics#Fandom#Original Fiction#Legion of Net.Heroes#Classic LNH#Legion of Net.Heroes Volume 3
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Fairy Tail Chapter 545 Review
Okay guys. Here it is. After 11 years the story of Fairy Tail finally comes to a close. So let’s dive into Chapter 545 “Irreplaceable Friends”
We open at a big fancy party thrown in Lucy’s honor for her best selling book, “The Adventure of Iris”. Honestly... Good to know Lucy gets a successful career in her ending.
and we now get the cover page...
It’s a little crowded, and I think there has been better shots of all of Fairy Tail together, but nostalgia is really kicking in.
The next few pages is just shots of FT being FT.
So Lucy begins to narrate some things that have happened in the last year. First about her book and then...
Oh god. Not you. Yes, Anna gets to live in this time period, with no consequences and not even a meaningful conversation with Lucy. To top it off, she’s now a teacher. Yeah, seeing as how all of Anna’s “intellect“ just kept making things worse and worse, I don’t think those kids are in for a good academic future.
Seems like Levy is pregnant. Cool. Not that this isn’t bad, but after the whole Bradman thing, this was kinda obvious.
We then cut to other guilds. Like Lamia scale and we find out that Chelia...
Are you fucking kidding me? I guess this war really did have no lasting consequences for our heroes!
This is the last of Sabertooth. Which I swear is just a copied image from the Avatar arc when the “Tora Tora eating festival” was introduced.
I guess Ichiya is Blue Pegasus’s master now? Well he did survive a suicide trip pushing Acnologia into a portal, guess he earned this title.
Wow this arc has done well at stripping away Kagura’s dignity. From getting striped by Dimaria, to giving Jellal CPR shirtless, to being given a magic induced orgasm, and now she’s a model. Okay there’s nothing wrong with being a model, but this is Kagura. Stoic, Badass Swordswoman, I didn’t see becoming a magazine model as a future for her character. She doesn’t even seem to like this! Actually wait! The caption says that Mermaid Heel’s girls all became models... Wow, way to treat the female only guild.
We cut to the party where...
Oh god, Gildarts no... Also Juvia, I know you spent time with Gray and developed the striping habbit, but you usually did it in combat... I don’t get why you’re doing it now.
Gray drags off Juvia and begins to lecture her on her scar...
So they’re canon... I think? Kinda... Sorta... No well explained... Hey wait! I just realized that this whole big plot point about how Gray will give Juvia an answer and keep her from being left hanging, doesn’t end in a straight answer, but a maybe?! AKA still left hanging! Dude, grow a spine and say it!
Wait... what’s this...
I love this scene! Mashima you glorious bastard~
We then cut to see that King Toma has abdicated, making Hisui queen. Yeah... Hisui... She totally earned it... What have you even done?Well she does make peace with Alvarez. Which is most likely going through a civil war to determine who is now the ruling body given the emperor and most of his top men are dead.
But Hisui also pardons Crime Sociere...
Y’know her telling them to live, would be a bit more powerful, if she interacted with Erza and not Lucy.
Yeah now the most controversial part of the chapter...
Erza and Jellal don’t get together. In fact, they don’t even talk. Y’know I did a brief post on my thoughts about this and I still stand by, Mashima is under no obligation to get them together, but he does at least owe them a conversation. At least. Because when you tease something like that, you really can’t leave open ended. If they aren’t going to get together you should at least give them a conversation that at least leads to them making the decision not to get together.
(Also Erza’s hair was that gorgeous without brushing it?!)
And Makarov can’t walk anymore... Oh god it must hard for him to make it through each day now, old, numerous heart attacks, lost the ability to walk. At this point just mercy kill him. Wait, he’ll probably live through that too.
Oh yeah and the other controversial scene...
Yup. Mavis and Zeref have been reincarnated and are now destined to fall in love again... Oh god... Why? You concluded their story! The whole journey of them as a couple had a great ending. Granted I felt it was weighed down by the Alvarez arc really dropping the ball with the whole relationship thing, before their conclusion. So this really feels like it ruins that big curse breaking moment, because they actually don’t escape their eternal cycle. Instead of being immortal they’re just reincarnated. Also one month is a short time for these reincarnations to be born and then make it to their teenage years
We get a montage shot of FT acting like FT and...
Wow... A ship with no canon interaction gets acanon ending. Mashima, you glorious bastard...
We cut to the next day in Lucy’s home, where... (For old time’s sake)
Natsu is in her living room. Appears she passed out after getting drunk, and brought her home.
And then this scene.
I know there are some upset that Natsu and Lucy didn’t get together, but this scene is really heartfelt. Regardless of the quality of every arc in question, I genuinely feel that these are two people who’ve been through thick and thin.
So they run off on another adventure... But not just on any adventure...
A 100 year quest.
So we close out on another montage showing off FT.
Umm looks like Fairies don’t have tails...
Anyway that is the conclusion, and after 11 long years the stories of Natsu, Lucy, Gray, Erza, Wendy, Happy, and Carla, come to an end, but the adventure of Fairy Tail lives on...
Post Chapter Follow Up: I’m going to start with the negatives only because I want to end on a positive note.
The biggest issue with this conclusion, is a lot of the individual ends feel iffy... Weather they don’t seem to fit the character like Kagura, or give a level of finality to their story like Jellal, or even acknowledge there has been a change to get us to this point like sabertooth. It really hurts because these are the last time we’ll see these characters and leaving them off with those conclusions is bitter sweet.
Let’s also talk about the controversial stuff. The biggest is the ambiguity. The “story” has to end without the story ending, thus it doesn’t go against a never ending adventure. There are things I think you can leave ambiguous, like Natsu and Lucy going off on an adventure, or what happens to all of the guilds as a whole. But there are some stuff that really you can’t do given the time spent on it. As I said, I am fine with Mashima not making pairs canon. Afterall, he isn’t under obligation to, just because the ships have large fanbases. That said he needs to at least give a straight answer. WIth all the time spent, you need to show us how you come to the end for these pairs and why that might not get together.
Another thing that really hurts is the Zeref and Mavis thing... Why? It’s not a bad scene, but it’s bad because it really ruins their already good conclusion. Doesn’t destroy it, but does make it a lot lesser.
So with all that said... Lets get to the positives,. First of all, I really do want to give Hiro Mashima for attempting something different for his conclusion than the typical shounen ending. I do think it is muddled a bit in execution, but this could’ve very well been just a repeat of Rave’s ending. I’m glad he ended it, his own way.
Another thing is the FT hijicks. I know a lot of the cast of FT didn’t do much this final arc, but it’s so nice to see them all get to show of their personalities one more time before the curtain draws to a close.
And finally, that moment with Natsu and Lucy. I know people are upset that the two are not together as lovers, but that doesn’t take away this really is two characters that share a genuine bond. Maybe not romantic, but it really feels like a finale for these two.
So this is the last time I’m going to do this for FT...
Final Verdict: 5/10
It’s too ambiguous
It does have some head scratching edings for characters
It has very sweet moments of characterization
Reminds of the jiy these characters brought me.
Before we go,This is it, this is the last review for a chapter of Fairy Tail I’m going to ever write. It’s been an honor and pleasure bringing you a review week to week. I wouldn’t be anything without this series, I could’ve never made my blog what it is without this series help, and all of your help dear readers. We had a lot of fun. Sure, at times it wasn’t always good, we had ups and we had downs, but that was what Fairy Tail was, a ride. And it’s a ride I don’t regret getting on. I hope it left everyone with some good memories. So till we see each other again, stay gold!
#fairy tail#natsu dragneel#fairy tail 545#ft 545#lucy heartfilia#gray fullbuster#wendy marvell#erza scarlet#happy the cat#carla#Nalu#gruvia#jerza#gajevy#Gajeel Redfox#Levy McGarden#zervis#crime sorciere#jellal fernandes#meredy#oracion seis#makarov dreyar#laxus dreyar#mirajane strauss#thunder god tribe#elfman strauss#Juvia Lockser#kagura mikazuchi#chelia blendy#rhapsode reviews
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